Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1 Spoke, Minute and Mapicc - Lonely

Chapter 2  Mapicc & the daycare - Biting

Chapter 3  Saparata x Fluixon - Dreams

Chapter 4 Flame x Wemmbu - Cuddling

Chapter 5 Naked and Afraid cast - Death

Chapter 6 Pangi x Minutetech - Butler AU

Chapter 7 Parrot x Wifies / Parrot and Wifies - Doomed

Chapter 8 Wemmbu and Rejoice - Flower

Chapter 10: Dev x Kier - Folktale

Chapter 11: Rek x Jaron - Love game

Chapter 12: Yungy and Pentar - Safe

Chapter 13: Parrot x Theo - Courting

Chapter 14: Jaiden and Wemmbu - Fight and acceptance

Chapter 15: FlameFrags and Manepear - reminisce

Chapter 16: Mapicc x Roshambo - Warmth

Chapter 17: Spoke - Exploits

Chapter 18: Ken x Wat x Wifies - Morning

Chapter 19: Subz x Vitalasy - Gifts

Chapter 20: Boosfer x Kier x Dev - Trap

Chapter 21:

Chapter 22:

Chapter 23:

Chapter 24:

Chapter 25:

Chapter 26:

Chapter 27:

Chapter 28:

Chapter 29:

Chapter 30:

Chapter 31:

Chapter Text

Spoke couldn’t remember the last time he saw a friendly face. Actually, no. He could, he could remember it very well. When he still thought that he had some sort of control over the Spoke galactic empire. Before he realized that the players didn’t need saving, they didn’t want saving. Before he was alone.

Mapicc, his best friend, who had stayed with him nearly his entire time on the server, who had on multiple occasions seeked him out, to help him. Who had always worried for him, throughout everything and now he was nowhere to be found.

For the first time he had genuinely no idea what had happened to Mapicc, if he had enough of Spoke and left for good, if he chose to stay and help Minute or if he needed help, but was unable to ask for it.

And Minute. He had been so happy and excited when he and Mapicc arrived. Wanting to show them around, to catch up, to just be together. And then he went and immediately ruined it, his heart dropped to his stomach as soon as he spawned and heard Minute’s voice. Worst of all, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the army from attacking, from griefing and destroying everything the other man had worked on.

That was probably the last time Minute would ever want to see or hear from him, he would also never want to see himself if he was in Minute’s shoes. Actually no, if anyone did that to him he would have hunted them down until he got his revenge.

Minute wasn’t that type of person, he would probably just keep his distance until he forgot about Spoke all along. Mapicc would stay away until he wasn’t overwhelmed with emotions, then slowly integrate his way back into Spoke life. He would be less trusting, more careful, but he would finally be here.

Spoke had of course been alone before, like when he was with the Mafia, a good portion of the time he wouldn’t really be around Mapicc and Leo, they tried to regroup as often as possible, but since they didn’t want to attract Ash’s or any of the higher up’s attention, he spent a lot of the time alone.
Maybe that’s where it all started, around the fourth sleepless night after the Rose incident. The overwhelming feeling of loneliness and selfloathing, stuck in constant paranoia of being caught. Drifting in and out awareness throughout the day with little to no recollection of what’s happening.

In need of something to make it go away, to stop it from gnawing at everything that is his being. In need of someone to make it go away. At some point he had stumbled across an old crafting table in some hidden corner with a bunch of trash surrounding it.

Apparently Something in his mind clicked and decided that this is something he was going to make something… Hopefully.

The first one he made was Mapicc.
He had thrown together a bunch of different torn red and beige fabric from anything he could get his hands on, he had clumsily sewed the pieces together similar to what he remembered of Mapicc’s outfit. Mismatched button eyes— that looked so wrong, but felt right. And to finish it up, Mapicc's signature red bandana.

Then came Minute.
He remembers struggling more with that one, The fabric was just not looking how he wanted it to be, not understanding how to mimic a suit. The ears kept coming lopsided, never staying in place. He couldn’t quite get Minutes sharp expression right, or how to make a tie, so he got a bow instead. When he was done, he almost felt like he’d been forgiven.

As soon as the morning came he had instinctively gone back to his dorm, a strange feeling of clarity had struck him leaving him with embarrassment over his latest action, of his vulnerability and weakness.

While he is usually trying to ignore what happened, he feels he should be allowed to be selfish right now. He has done so much for everyone, and now he’s alone, with everyone hating him again. He should be allowed to have comfort without anyone taking it away from him.

Actually now that he looks at the dolls again: they were awful— probably the worst thing he’s ever made. The fabric was barely holding on by hopes and prayers, but that was fine. This was for him and him alone.

It wasn’t like he was really talking to them. They can’t move, give him the usual sarcastic remark or a tired sigh like the real people would do. Though it was nice, to freely talk to “someone” with no judgment, only being able to say what he wanted to hear.

“Good job Spoke, you’re doing so much for the server!” Mimicking voices has never been something he was good at. If anything it sounded terrible, if anyone were around they would probably think he was suffering from… something.

Even so he kept going. It felt nice hearing someone believing in him, praising him, even if that someone was himself. “Keep going, you can’t fail. You're unstoppable.”

He sat quietly staring at the dolls in his hands for a while, not knowing how to continue. His voice stuck in his throat. Struggling to choke out his own words. “Awwwh, thank’s guys.”

He didn’t know what else to say, it didn’t feel like this was something he would ever hear someone else say, so for once in his life he was at a loss for words. No one could respond or help with his needs, but when he closed his eyes and let his imagination run wild, surrounded by handmade reminders from an easier time, it almost felt like they had.

We love you Spoke

Even if it’s his own voice, that it was all created in his head, it was enough to stop the tears for another night.

Chapter Text

It’s common knowledge that some hybrids inherit attributes and a lot of instincts from their respective animals. Obvious things like ears and tails, wings, a heat or rut here and there. On servers like Lifesteal you never, ever want to let anyone see your weaknesses or know how you function. There are only two ways to survive, you either hide them or make them seem so terrifying that it would be a disadvantage to fight you, no in between.

Of course some people do choose to share their more vulnerable nature with the ones closest to them, Mapicc included. While he is quick to bite, scratch and lash out to any potential threats. He is surprisingly soft with his teammates and close friends. Cuddle sessions after a particular bad fight, gentle touches exchanged throughout the day.

Normal stuff you know, like biting all your teammates, on a regular basis. Originally it wasn’t something that was supposed to happen, actually the only reason it began was because back in season 1 after the sourPatch Nation accused him of using commands. In Mapicc's frustration snapped whenever he saw them in the only way he knew how— teeth first.

After the season ended it had become some sort of habit that people around him— namely Spoke, would tease him or acting as if he actually was a dog, tossing out things like “Sit,” “down boy” or yelling out “bad dog” whenever Mapicc would respond by nipping at the limbs closest to him. Which was basically every time they saw each other.

Unluckily for him and luckily for Spoke is that it’s incredibly hard to see any form of the bites because of his skin. He would love nothing more than to see shame or embarrassment in Spoke’s eyes while being teased and “bullied” by being mauled by what Spoke claims is “nothing more than a harmless puppy.”

While it is very hard to see the bruising, it’s not impossible. As long as you know where to look you can see the small distinction from Spoke’s skin and soft purple and blue hues littering across his neck and arms. Maybe he’ll tell some of the other lifesteal members and they’ll gang up on Spoke once he logs back on the server.

Another thing is biting and being bitten back by Manepear. Since they’re both hybrids who have experienced teething season and often use their advantages in combat, Mane probably also grew up play-fighting with his parents or siblings— if he had any of those. He probably fought flame, that would make a lot of sense.

So what better way to rid themselves of excess energy than fighting. Usually Mapicc is the one starting their fights with a game of “catch,” darting towards him, nipping at his arm before rushing away. Leading to Mane lunging after him causing chaos around them until Mane can successfully pin him to the ground.

Ending it when one gets pinned to the ground would be no fun, it wouldn’t even rid them of energy. So they keep going until they have none left.

Rolling around on the ground, until Mapicc can escape Mane’s grip only to once again try to Nipp him or tackle him from behind when he lowers his guard.
They have a rhythm, they run and tumble across the ground, swatting, biting and clawing at each other— The lion hybrid trying to pin and win with brute force and the dog hybrid refusing to stay down using his speed and agility to continue their game.

It’s a weird mix of a wrestling match, a game of tag and a tickle fight. It’s full of energy and life, but it’s theirs and Mapicc wouldn’t want it any other way.
On the other hand he and Leo had a pretty chill relationship. There was no real big thing between them and biting. They talk, have fun and every now and then they’ll tease and make fun of each other. Mapicc bites anyone who tries to tease him, Leo being no exception, though unlike a lot of other lifestealers Leo is the only one who bites him back. He doesn’t know why, but whenever he bites or plans to bite, Leo bares his teeth and playfully acts like he’s going to bite Mapicc, until he does bite.
But once again, nothing big just Bro’s being bros.

He wouldn’t say he has the closest relationship with Ash, if anything their relationship is built upon respect. Ash supports him and provides him with things he may need from the sidelines.
Like when Ash lent him three hearts.

And he in turn uses the resources to gain the upper hand and if he has anything left to spare he gives it back.
They also haven’t had the best chance to interact with each other this season, but Mapicc still makes sure to bite him and reassure that Ash still is valuable for the team.
I mean he bites all his other teammates so it would be weird if he didn’t bite Ash, you know. But still Ash carries the mark and indirectly tells everyone to get lost, cuz he has a team who is very willing to fight for him.

Anyways, life is good. He has a team he would die for and they in turn would die for him. So who really cares about what they do for themselves. Everyone on Lifesteal is weird and has their unique quirks. So what if he bites his teammates.

They have never once actually complained, if anything they have all encouraged him to do so on multiple occasions, often baring their necks or telling him that his bite mark is fading. So take that.
They are not just a simple team. No, they’re better than that. They are a pack, a family. And they all proudly show their mark in their daily life. They are stronger, more connected, nothing can keep them from splitting up.

Chapter Text

It’s been two months since Fluixon's death and Saps has not been handling it well. He thought that this would be the easy part, he was finally back home with no one hunting him anymore. So how come it’s affecting him like this, why could he handle and persevere when he was betrayed, hunted down— even fighting in the war, but the aftermath of his enemy is the thing that he couldn’t cope with.

It had hit so suddenly too, he was completely fine during the celebrations, when coming back to his summerhouse and fixing it up and then it hit. He didn’t want to leave his bed because everything reminded him of the past, he didn’t have energy to eat or meet up with any of the other survivors. Now he spends his days laying in bed waiting for sleep to take him, waking up wishing that things could change and going back to sleep. It was the only time he felt like himself again, the only time he could see Fluix again. 

— — — — — 

Warm arms were wrapped around him as he awoke from his restless sleep. A hypnotic voice pulling him in with soft kisses keeping him grounded. Another perfect morning, just him and Fluixon, together in their parthenon. 

Well it would be a perfect morning if these damn nightmares would stop haunting him. He doesn’t want to dream of killing or being betrayed by Fluxion. It’s honestly so irritating, plaguing him whenever sleep takes control over his body. 

Anyways, happy thoughts, Saps, happy thoughts. Like how Fux is running his fingers through your hair, or how he is now kissing his cheeks, nose, mouth. anywhere he can reach.

“Finally back with me, Saps?”

And that voice, gosh his voice. Saps was convinced it was created in heaven by god himself, there is no other explanation for why it sounds so good. He can spend the rest of eternity just listening to Fluixon’s voice.

Once Saps opened his eyes, trying to press himself closer to the other man. He finally became aware of his surroundings. There is no Fluix. Fluixon is dead and Saps is actually going crazy, completely losing his mind. 

— — — — — 

Mornings are always peaceful now after the war, birds chirping among themselves, the ocean waves making rhythmic sounds as it rolls into the beach. There has been no disturbance ever since, everyone keeping to themselves, trying to support each other without showing their own struggles.

Recently he has taken up baking. Saps doesn’t think he remembers ever having been able to do it before, but it’s a nice way to pass time, to get his mind off of things. Just him rolling his bread, or finishing up a cake, the peaceful, domestic life he didn’t know he needed. 

«And what is my favorite guy making today? Something new or did you just grab some ingredients and do the rest on autopilot?"

«It’s apple pie. Though you might like some after you finish working, which you should be doing now." That’s been another constant in his life, after the war Fluixon decided to stay with him instead of going back to Luminaria. It has been to be together again like before the war. 

«Fine, fine I’ll be going, since I’m clearly unwanted here. I’ll see you during lunch, I will be expecting that pie you have." With that he kisses Saps cheek like he always does begging he leaves to most likely make some new furniture. 

Life has played with him for a long while, but if this is the end result of all his struggles then he would do it a thousand times over.

Now that he thinks about it he can’t really remember what happened during the war, everyone was against him, then Fluix. How he managed to survive and get off the hook he might never know. Fluix doesn’t seem to pay any mind to what happened, so it’s probably okay, no need for him to worry about something already sorted out.

— — — — —

He remembers when they were still building his parthenon.  When they would stand at the top of the hill looking over their progress as night took over. Remembers when they had to sleep in a too small tent, laying side by side completely pressed against each other.

That’s what kick started their relationship, spending countless days together, working, relaxing and truly getting to know each and every little thing about the other. 

He remembers it being the most peaceful time, no one was worried about island 2 except for Fluixon and even then it was relatively easy to get his attention away from it. All Saps needed to do was to leave a couple of touches here and there soft kisses leaving Fluix wanting more. And within an hour he would have the most gorgeous man in his bed, laying on top of him, reduced to nothing more than putty in Saps arms.

They should do something like that again, since they are back in a peaceful place. Once Fluix comes back home, comes back to him they should definitely spend the night together at the beach, just like old times.

He just needs to wait for a little while.

— — — — — 

Saps tries to come up with excuses for what Fluix was doing.

The worst part of being in a war, of being betrayed, was the countless nightmares he faces. Every other night he wakes up crying without fail, because some stupid brain desires he hadn’t suffered enough and continues to torment him with memories from the past. 

It wasn’t even really Fluixon's fault if you think about it, he was scared and did what he thought was the best course of action. Saps knows him— knows him. Fluix cared, he cared so much that he would do anything to keep people safe.

All that happened was that he was pushed too far, no one listened to him and he took action. Honestly if anything Saps is a big reason for what happened. Had he just caught Fluix, noticed he was struggling and tried to help him instead of brushing it off.

Saps was supposed to be his best friend, his partner. He was supposed to be there for Fluix, listen to his problems, and figure out solutions together. But no he did none of that, he ignored it assuming it was fine, that it was just a bit of paranoia that would soon be over.

He could have done so much, anything and that probably would have spared hundreds of people— Fluix included. If only he had reacted before it was too late. Oh how he wished he had done things differently, if only he had another chance to try again— another chance to see his dearest Fluixon.

Chapter Text

This is it. There is nowhere Flame would rather be. Here in bed, cuddling with his beautiful girlfriend Wemmbu, life is perfect. This was his final form, laying halfway on top of her with his head on her chest, gently running her fingers through his hair.

He has reached eternal bliss, no fight, strength or title could top this euphoric feeling. Wemmbu was just so warm and comfortable under his skin, as long as Flame could continue to lay here he was good until the end of time.

She looked so pretty sprawled out across his bed, their bed. Soft features luring him in, waiting to be worshiped by him, like the goddess she is. And he would, any fantasy, wish even a simple fleeting thought. He would do anything for her, to keep her in his arms, never to let go.

How did he get so lucky to end up with her? He’s thankful for whatever past him or him from another life did for him to deserve her. He will do his best to prove that he deserves her in this and all the ones to come.

That doesn’t even really matter, what matters is that he has her and he will raise hell if anyone tries to separate them. Their fate will be so much worse than what death can bring. For example PrinceZam. Sure he used to work with the guy at one point, but he has become better, so much better after getting with Wemmbu. So the next time he sees that yellow thing it’s on sight.

Like they have been lifelong rivals always pushing each other to become the best and strongest versions of themselves, plus he never once went in to get her trust only to break it, to torment her and leave her behind when she was at her worst or even trying to genuinely kill her unlike the smiling yellow thing.

Actually even the thought that he used to work for Zam leaves a bitter feeling in his stomach, that there is a possibility that could have genuinely hurt or left her struggling.

The universe gave him Wemmbu, it has constantly led them together again and again, he would be a fool if he didn’t do anything to care for her the way she deserves, to worship her in any way he can.  

She deserves so much more than what he can give, but he is also so much better than everyone else. No one can even compare to his PvP skills or will be able to keep up with Wemmbu like he can, well maybe except for Eggchan but it would just be laughable if he began competing with the other male, plus Wemmbu wouldn’t be very happy with him.

“Watcha thinking about there buddy?” Haaah… her voice, life can’t get more perfect.

“Firstly stop calling me buddy, besides I wasn’t really thinking about anything.” As much as he loves and will worship Wemmbu there is no way in hell he will ever openly admit it to her, that’s like asking to be bullied or teased until the end of time by her. 

“Awww, you were thinking about me weren't you” Ignore everything Flame said earlier, he hates Wemmbu, her annoyingly patronizing voice and their entire life. She’s now moved onto his kill list as a first priority. 

“Bro you’re so annoying, I literally just said I wasn’t thinking about anything. How did you even manage to link that up with yourself?” 

“because you love me.” Gosh, Flame is so in love with her. There has to be something clinically wrong with him to find this madman even remotely attractive.

“Hey Flame Can—”

Oh how he wishes the ground will open up underneath and swallow him whole. Sadly that won’t happen so hiding his face between Wemmbu’s neck and shoulders until the embarrassment is over. Frick his life and everything in it, knowing his luck this kid is going to mention this to everyone they meet and it’s going to become this huge thing neither he nor Wemmbu is going to lie down. Lord above give him strength and patience or else he might actually kill this kid. 

He doesn’t want to know why they came here or why they're still in his room. Obviously he can feel the vibrations of Wemmbu speaking, but once again he doesn’t want to know what they could possibly be talking about. What Flame wants is for them to leave, to never speak of this and for them to never come back.

«Okay, thank you! I’ll be leaving now, so sorry please don’t kill me!" thank goodness they left,  he cannot peacefully go right back to comfortably laying on his girlfriend, sharing soft words and kisses. 

Honestly this kid ruined their perfectly planned lazy day— at least this gives him the excuse to do it all over again without Wemmbu lying through her teeth about how she has taken a break, she has pampered herself and so on. 

Now that Flame thinks about it this should become a weekly thing. To simply drag her to bed, ignoring all of her protests in order to focus on pampering her until she becomes the most loved person in existence. How nice that sounds.. 

Just the two of them against the world, sharing small moments of pure love with each other. Hiding away at a secret base where no one can bother them. No combat, no stress or anything remotely taxing, just the two of  them like it should be.

Chapter Text

Why did he decide to try and loot a pillager outpost. He was so confident too, like why did he do the worst possible thing to do 10 minutes in. One second he is walking towards the pillagers preparing to fight them, next he is hit— or well, shot and he’s consumed by excruciating pain. He needs to run, to flee. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, he’s panicking, desperately trying to get away and then he’s standing in front of his own dead body.

This was not what was supposed to happen, who even made this a thing? Cuz they suck.
He did not agree to this. All he wanted was to play with his friends, sure this was high risk, but it’s a game nonetheless… or it’s supposed to be a game. 

And now he was out, he died. What should’ve happened was him either spectating the world and watching his friends or him just logging off, not being stuck as a ghost. A ghost with arrows lodged into his body, the pain of his final moments repeated on loop.

Was he supposed to deal with all this pain until the server ended? To watch his friends play and enjoying themselves, while he had to stand on the sidelines practically dibbling over in pain.

He can’t do this, no way. He needs this game to end as soon as possible, like right now, it’s over, finished, done. It feels like he can’t breathe, can’t think clearly– Can he even breathe anymore or is he just gasping like a madman.

No. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore he’s already dead, but he needs this game to end, now. No matter the cost.

— — — — — 

Darkness. He was surrounded by complete darkness, with no one around him, no Rek, 

no Brock. He’s completely alone— well that’s a lie, he has a warden on him… somewhere around. If only he could see and actually have a bigger opportunity to survive, but oh well, it sounds good for now at least.

All he needs to do is focus on pillering up and making his grand escape. Oh, it’s closer, that’s not good. He’ll be fine, he has some distance between them. He can survive this no problem and— Oh shit. No he can not, It’s nearly right under him, that’s not good. 

How did it even get there, he has been very quietly digging up this should not be possible. Did Rek and Brock leave, is that why. Is he now the only player down here? It’s no point hiding anymore since the warden’s already this close, just focus on escaping Clown, he can do this. He’s the deadliest player for a reason, he’s got this in the bag no point panicking. 

He only needs to dig a few more blocks up and he’s safe, then he will meet back up with the others, joke about how they left him and how he’s simply better and survived the encounter. 

One block left, five seconds max and he’s— There’s gravel. Uh oh, he’ll need to run. That’s fine he can do this, he’s quick he can do this, just jump behind the warden and run. Just a small challenge.

Nope, now he’s in front of the warden, not a challenge he basically lost. He can not escape this, there’s no possible way. He is stuck in the darkness, completely alone having a staring contest with the warden. He’s dead, he’s so dead. Oh no, he’s being attacked by the sonic boom or whatever it’s called. This is it, his final moments.

Clown closes his eyes, it’s easier no point trying to run that will probably only hurt more. Soon the feeling of his body being ripped away will stop and he’ll go on about his day. Soon, any moment now.

A couple of seconds pass with the pain only increasing, he opens his eyes and the warden’s definitely gone, but his body is laying in a tangled mess on the ground. No death screen. He’s just standing in front of his body, totally normal. 

Honestly he kinda wants to throw up, he wants to throw his mask off, get actual air. Not whatever mush is in his mask. And he would if he could actually get the mask off, but no it’s stuck and the pain is worse. Every movement feels like his body is still getting ripped apart, every limb feels wrong. It doesn’t sit in the right place, it’s weaker, destroyed.

Everything hurts, he’s probably dead. He is dead! He’s standing in front of his very dead body. Whoever made this game mechanic should be fired. This is too much for a game, was it even a game from the start?

Does he have to stay here until it’s over, or is he supposed to continue like it never happened. Is he even able to do that, by the way his corpse looks he shouldn’t be able to move. Actually no, he has to stop looking at that or else he’s just going to be more nauseous.

He’s half blind and basically broken beyond repair, what was the logic behind this. Let’s see who will suffer the most? 

And is that Mogswamp? 

— — — — — 

He called it, he was going to die this session. At least he had come to terms that it would eventually happen. Not in a depressive way, more like all odds are against them so if he were to die it wouldn’t be surprising. Though he didn’t expect it to be over before he could even process what just happened, and now he is stuck in a weird ghost-like state.

Honestly Mini feels like he shouldn’t be reacting like this. Not this calmly at least. Being mad, scared or even sad would have been better than this numbing sensation.

It’s everywhere. His feelings? Muted, pushed so far down he might as well have known how he was going to die.
His body? uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel right, like it isn't his anymore— that he is intruding in his own body, waiting for the owner.

Are the other members also stuck in this situation, cold and empty, are they in pain or do they have it well. Are they even in this situation at all or is he just extremely unlucky and just got caught by a glitch.

The real question is what is he going to do from here, the others— the ones alive still have 3 more sessions. Will he even be able to go through the portal once they defeat the dragon.

And there goes Jaron, well flyes Jaron. He’s been very deliberately pushed by the dragon, there is no way Jaron could possibly survive this or Mini doesn’t think it’s possible. 

At least there is a chance Mini won’t be completely alone in the end, if the glitch also strikes Jaron that is. He should probably check on Jaron either way, see if he’s okay, how he’s handling dying and coming back. It certainly looks like Jaron will have a way  worse time than he had— has.

Yeah, he should definitely do that.

— — — — — 

He won’t survive this, there is no way. His body is already messed up by two hits from the dragon alone. The purple particles floating across his vision blocking most of his sight is definitely not helping.

Even if he was able to perform a miracle and land this clutch, it probably wouldn’t do him any good. He is far too injured— his body is a tangled mess, most limbs definitely not sitting correctly, his clothes melting into his skin, twisting it into something unrecognizable and to top it off most of his vision was gone.

If he were to survive this he would just hold everyone else back. Rek, Loony, Brock and Wunba, he doesn’t think he would be able to face them after this, they would all try and help him, he knows they would. It just seems like more trouble than what it’s worth.

At least he had fun while the game lasted.

…

Everything hurts. His every cell and nerve is screaming at him— to get up, to stop the pain. To do anything else than just laying there heaving for his breath. He shouldn’t be here, he should have been dead on impact, not just lay here in a mess that once was his body.

Actually he’s pretty sure he can see his body from where he is laying, which is not helping heel any better. He really does not want to be here, to feel this. He wants to be back home, to curl up in his bed surrounded by warmth and safety. Not the harsh cold ground, that makes everything feel worse by the second.

Someone's talking to him, it’s impossible to understand what’s being said, who is talking to him. They’re cold to the touch, Jaron doesn’t know if he wants to lean in or curl away and cry.

“Jaron, Can you hear me? No, don’t curl away from me. Jaron” Oh it’s Mini. S he is dead, it’s just that the afterlife doesn’t exist and he’s stuck here. Maybe it wouldn’t have been worse if he had survived the clutch.

“Jaron, I need you to work with me here, man. Talk to me.” He doesn’t think a voice has sounded so annoying to his ears before, no shades to Mini. Actually no, all the shade to Mini because why is the guy lifting him up to his own feet. Frankly he is letting Jaron lean his full weight on him, but still. Couldn’t he have waited and let Jaron wallow in his misery. “Seariusly Jaron, what do you need? Can you even hear me?”

“Yes Mini, I hear you.” While he probably should be happy that he isn’t alone and has someone willing to help him, he genuinely can’t feel or think about anything other than his own anger and desperation to make the pain stop. He doesn’t even know why he’s mad. “And what I need is this pain to stop.”

Forget what he said about Mini’s voice, his own is definitely so much worse. The perks of being crushed by the ground, it will completely destroy your vocal cords. 0/10 experience, would not recommend.

«yeah, yeah. Okay, we’ll figure something out, don’t worry. Soon enough we will be out of here." Honey Jaron kinda stopped listening and letting sleep finally pull him in. Mini can deal with everything for now, what he needs is a long nap that might last the rest of eternity.

Don’t judge him, it takes a lot of energy to die, to feel so many emotions in such a short time and to be in this much constant pain. It doesn’t really matter, he deserves sleep so that’s what he’ll do, safely by Mimi’s side.

— — — — —

Today’s the last day, last session and then he has succeeded. The only thing between him and victory is a battle with the ender dragon, not something he particularly wants to do, but he’s as prepared as it gets. Now or never, he will either win together with Rek, Wumba and Loony or he will die fighting.

In the distance, when he focuses he can see them standing side by side. Mini, Jaron and SB, their faces look weird, messed up— well duh, they look like they have walked through hell. 

But they're just staring at him. Anger and resentment clear on their faces, though they’re not doing anything. Just staring, waiting for something. It’s kinda creepy what your mind can create when you’re grieving. 

All he can hope for is that they’re there watching over him when he fights the dragon, he’ll win it for them, for everyone of his fallen friend. And after they will all celebrate the victory together just like how it started.

No matter how much he wants to pull away and stop looking at his deceased friends something keeps getting his attention. He can’t stop looking, he should probably focus on the fight in front of him, but he can’t. His body is frozen, struck by an immense guilt that increases the more he stares. 

There is something they are waiting for and it doesn’t seem like it’s something positive if they’re expressions are anything to go by. 

Then he hears it— the sound of wings cutting through the void. The dragon closing in on them all and suddenly his courage feels nonexistent. They all launch themselves into their air, everyone quickly trying to avoid getting hit.

He pushes forwards, launching rocket after rocket in hopes of getting away. In the end it was all for nothing, the air bends with force from the dragon sucking him in. 

Even as he tries to veer away he knows it’s too late. The impact of colliding with the dragon sent him flying over the void. The world around him spins, there is no way to orientate himself, he’s too high up.

Is this what Jaron felt before he died. Flying through the air, waiting, preparing for when he eventually will hit the ground and get crushed. 

What a terrible feeling, knowing you’re going to die, but being unable to pinpoint the exact moment it will happen. 

The knowledge that his body is quickly plummeting faster and faster towards the ground, the main i-land coming into view. Two groups standing under him. One in shock, frozen over the realization of what’s happening.

The other one is made out of dead people that are still looking at him, though they’re not angry anymore. They’re mapping out the space, where he will land— where he will die. Hopefully they will meet him on the other side. He misses them a lot.

Yet as the void rushed loudly in his face, he felt a strange sense of calmness settling into him. After he dies he will reunite with the rest. Mog, Clown and the rest will all be there beside him. He wants them to have been waiting for him, to praise him for his effort, to south any negativity that comes with dying in the last seconds. 

Whatever happens next he will have them with him. Watching over him until it’s time to join them.

Chapter Text

 “Ummm, I brought you water Sir Minutetech.”

An anxious voice brought him out of his thoughts. A young man stood before him with a glass of water in his hand, his body shaking as much as his voice. Honestly it was a miracle he hasn’t dropped the glass or spilled its contents.

Pangi, a distant voice in his mind tells him. A new hire, he had been working as a butler for roughly three months and from what Minute’s seen he is the human incarnation of a wet cat. Though he would be lying if he didn’t say it wasn’t a bit charming in some weird way.

How he immediately tensed, carefully listening to whatever order was given out. How he would clumsily fulfill the order to the best of his abilities. While what he did often came out a bit sloppy, his eagerness to learn and improve was something that made it up, probably because he was the only one with that mindset.

«Thank you, I originally asked for tea, but don’t worry this works… Good job."

Why did Minute say that? He had no idea, had this been anyone else he’d gently tell them their faults before asking them to repeat the task. Maybe it was the way Pangi seemed to light up whenever he got praised, or simply because they were understaffed and he really couldn’t afford anyone quitting or being fired.

They were all stressed, so this might honestly not even be how Pangi works, he might actually be good at his work, just started in a very stressful period and haven’t had time to completely familiarise himself with his workplace. Actually now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen Pangi talk  to anyone else unless he is obligated to.

Just as Minute was about to take the glass, Pangi’s entire body froze for what couldn’t be more than a couple of seconds before sprinting the way he came from, quickly disappearing from Minute’s sight. 

“I apologise Mr, sir Minutetech. I will be right back in a bit!”

Somehow he’s still able to not spill any of the content in the glass. At least he doesn’t have to find someone who has to clean up the floor again today. Maybe they will be able to stay on schedule for today. 

If anything, maybe he can utilize pangi’s apparent great balance to get ahead of their work. Instead of him working in the kitchen or any other menial task, if he can get Pangi to serve more as an errand boy.

It could be genius having someone quickly being able to transfer whatever item without having any delay. To have word go around the entire estate that would be perfect. If he can get the man to agree, they can actually get ahead of everything for once. 

The other man seems to be driven by praise for some reason, or any positive word now that Minute thinks about it. What a weird fellow, but if that is what’s going to give him good results and fast work. Then Minute guessed he could give out praise here and there more often.

Maybe it will help improve the workplaces mood, it will definitely help Pangi’s mood, with all that smiling and how he just lights up, the sun or a God has to be on his side because what he does should be impossible. Though he should be careful since every time he receives something from Minute he nearly melts into a puddle on the ground. 

“Minutetech sir! I am back with the tea, the right tea. I have to go, the hallway needs fixing. I totally did not crash into a bunch of things. Did not happen. Okay bye now— Agh! ” 

Oh he’s back— and there he falls. Yikes. 

On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t ask Pangi to act like an errand boy if this is the second time he falls or crashes into something within the past five minutes. That wouldn’t lead to anything good for the people who will end up cleaning his mess or Pangi. 

He would feel terrible if something were to actually happen to the man. Firstly Pangi is under his watch, meaning it would somewhat be his fault if the man gets seriously injured or sick. 

Secondly he cares for Pangi, the guy is funny, kind and very easy to talk to, he bounces over whenever they are in the same room, actually he often deliberately seeks him out. Minute can’t say that he hasn’t been looking forward to their encounters, who could possibly complain when a cute guy talks to you and wants to listen to you rambling about Batman or Star wars. 

Oh, where did that come from, since when has Minute thought he was cute?

My goodness, he was attracted to one of his coworkers, to Pangi.

No, Nope Minute’s not dealing with this right now, this is a problem for future him. There is no way he is ever going to unravel all of that anywhere in the near future.

Chapter Text

My darling Parrot,

Next time, we’ll do better

I promise, I won’t let you go.

We’ll stay where we belong

Beside each other, 

with the spyglass as proof of our friendship.

I won’t mess it up, not this time

So please, 

Let me try again, let me fix it.

Your’s truly,

Wifies

— — — — — 

Wifies,

It seems our time together is out,

Even though we had so much more to do.

Let’s meet up again soon,

In another universe maybe.

Somewhere we can stay together,

Have more adventures,

Where we don’t need a goodbye.

So please, until then

Wait for me.

Until our paths cross again,
Parrot.

Chapter Text

Welcome to Lifesteal, you have lived here for as long as you can remember. 

Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. 

No matter what.

Jepexx Journal:

Day 1

Today I started of season 7 alone, but I accidentally died by a creeper. Thrice, today. 

Wow, Shocker! “Jepexx has died,” that has never happened before. It wasn’t even my fault, I had my shield up, it’s the lag’s fault. This had nothing to do with him.

And to make everything worse, when I met up with Chief I was instantly killed by him after a small chat and THEN once I respawned back at spawn, I was once AGAIN immediately killed by Poafa. Like what is these guys' problem? What did I ever do to them? 

The only thing that’s been going my way today is the fact that Redoons offered to his and Speps team “Socks Inc.” For once I am actually okay with giving or losing my heart.

This day has been pretty bad, but everything is probably going to be okay.

Day 13

Today I joined Hannah's, Jojo’s and Woggie’s Pillar events. It didn’t end too well. Firstly I tried to kill Pangi, you know knock him off, but no, of course it’s not going to go my way, because why would it.

Once again because the world absolutely hates me it decides “why not make Jepexx life worse” and there’s only one way to do it correctly, death. Woggie killed me, AND Pangi for that matter. 

Isn’t he supposed to be the judge or something? Why isn’t he doing his job? Like what was the point to firstly kill MY target, THEN deciding he was going kill me too. Life is just amazing…

Today sucked, but everything will probably be okay.

Day ???

I died, deathbanned by a damn CREEPER?! What’s with all these creepers this season, none of these deaths have even been remotely my fault. And yesterday I was killed by a creeper falling from the ceiling! Since when was this a thing.

Thank goodness for Youngy who revived me and gave me an extra two hearts. Thank goodness.

Yesterday was the absolute worst, but today was better. It was good.

Soon everything will be okay.

Chapter Text

No, no, no, no, no, NO! Where is it, it can’t just have magically disappeared— items don’t work like that. He can’t have lost it, ‘there was no way he threw away that flower’, no way that he accidentally put it away, swapped it out for another item. There exists no item with more worth than the flower. Wemmbu may be stupid sometimes, but he is not an idiot, an emotionless asshole who doesn’t care for the people close to him.

It shouldn’t be this hard to find a singular sunflower. He knows it is somewhere in one of his shulkers, in which one is the problem. He has gone through every single shulker he owns thrice already, but panic drives him to start all over again. Even though it should lie in a shulker from his enderchest, it doesn't mean he won’t go through every single one he owns in his own panic.

He has never once let it out of his sight. It is either in his shucker, safely tucked into his enderchest or in his hand. At all times, no exceptions. No one has touched it except for him and Rejoice, no one has seen it and knows of its existence except for him and Rejoice.

So there is no logical explanation for why he isn’t able to find it. Even when he was in the farlands and lost nearly everything, by some weird miracle the flower has still somehow stayed in his hands. If the farlands can’t take it away from him, he’s sure as hell not going to let his own messiness be his downfall.

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing it, his last reminder of Rejoice, the last thing that showed that Rejoice had existed. Wemmbu would much rather lose his own life than lose their flower, maybe if he dies he might actually see Rejoice again.

Egg is safe in the end together with Minute, everyone already thinks he’s dead and the remaining few who were aware have been sworn to secrecy. He won and has been successfully avoiding Flame at all costs. There really is no one waiting on him or expecting him at all. He pretty much has done everything he has wanted to do, maybe except for exploring unstable further, which really isn’t that interesting anymore.

There is little to nothing holding him to this world, he has his maces— Gambit and Crucible, his sunflower from Rejoice— Rejoicin, which he is desperately trying to find, but that's it. On a serious note, if he can’t find that damned flower when he goes through his entire enderchest once again, he’s either going to cram everything back in or give his things to Egg, maybe even Minute before jumping into the void.

It’s one enderchest, where he has 25 shulkers, split into 5 white ones, 2 green ones. 5 yellow ones, another 2 in orange, 1 in black, lime and dark blue, 2 red, 4 in cyan and lastly two slots filled with wolf armor and the compass he used to find Flame.

Wemmbu really doesn’t know how he’s going to handle the probability of not finding the sunflower, he doesn’t even know how he’s handling the fact he’s about to go through his enderchest for the fourth time today, but what can he really do, give up? Of course not, Wemmbu’s going to rummage through it over and over again until he finds that flower, even if it’s the last thing he’ll be doing.

The white shuckers, filled to the brim with netheright armor and some shields. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to put it there because that's basically asking for the destruction of his sunflower. The yellow shulkers, two filled with golden apples, one with strength potions, weakness potions and one filled with his elytra, some rockets and Crucible, with no Flower in sight.

Three pink ones stuffed with rockets and some extra breeze rods and ender eyes. Three cyan shulkers with splash potions of speed together with two orange shulkers with splash potions of fire resistance. Maybe it would have been smart of him to place the flower together with the more fragile items.

Two shukers filled with ender eyes, two filled with his orbital strike cannon fishing rods. He has two shulkers left, if he still can’t find it he'll seriously just offer himself up to the next enemy he sees. The dark blue shulker, breeze rods with no flower in sight.

And at long last his final shulker box, containing his totems. Ten singular totems are peacefully laying, 2 well was peacefully laying before Wemmbu desperately tore through it with shaking hands. Their carved faces staring up at him in their silent judgement, what once felt like safety looks like mockery, each painted eye reflecting his past failures. They should feel like safety, he desperately wishes they still felt like safety— to know they'll keep him alive no matter what, when all he wants is the actual thing that keeps him alive, that keeps him going.

There pressed at the bottom of it all, hidden and well blended between the totems, rests his precious sunflower. Its petals have begun to fade, but are still as beautiful and delicate as the day he got it. Its glow felt so much brighter than what any totem could think of achieving.

Finally, it felt like he could finally breathe again. He slumped over himself, cradling the sunflower to his chest, his breathing coming out in ragged, relieved sobs. He whispers Rejoice’s name over and over again under his breath as if the flower could carry through the universe. That Rejoice will be able to both hear and see him if he says it enough. His hand trembles, but he holds onto the flower as carefully as he can, terrified that if he lets go for even a second it will once again vanish, for good this time.

Slowly everything feels just a bit better, he has the flower that keeps him going, the proof that Rejoice has existed, that Wemmbu still carries them with him, even in the chaos that is Unstable. Maybe he isn’t quite ready for death yet, at least not while Rejoicing is in his hand.

Chapter Text

At some point you are going to have homoerotic thoughts about your best friend or roommate, especially if they’re the same person. It’s normal, a fact and Jaron lives with this every day and just like any other person, he ignores it and continues on with his day.

All you need to do is push the feelings away long enough to last you throughout the day, freak out and scream into your pillow at night praying that your roommate can’t hear you. To make his situation worse, Jaron had for some reason agreed to play gay chicken with him— which has been ongoing for the past three years! Context: they have only lived together for two years, meaning Jaron has willingly put himself in this position.

Why you might ask why, is it because he wants to torture himself. No he just didn’t think about it, got too excited talking with Rek about moving together he completely forgot about it.

And he has been pretty good at keeping it under wraps if he can say so himself. Rek has no clue because Jaron is just that good and is going to win their elaborate game of gay chicken— Rek will have no idea what has hit him once Jaron is done with him. Though he will give it to Rek for being able to keep up, whatever Jaron does he reciprocates ten times more.

Like once he tried to make lunch for them after having joined Rek for his workout, leaving him in the great position to make it shirtless while Rek went to shower, but instead of him squirming or giving any sort of reaction— no Rek hugged him from behind and complimented his knife skills. Which ended up reversing their positions with Jaron squirming around all flustered.

Or the time he tried to lean against Rek during a movie, just a little shoulder bump to see what he’d do—and Rek pulled him all the way in, arm draped around him like it was the most natural thing in the world. When he tried to further test boundaries by playing with Rek’s hair, expecting him to bat his hand away— Rek only tilted his head into the touch, softly murmuring about how good it felt.

And! There was the time when they were travelling together and had to share a bed, though instead of getting another room or sleeping on separate sides like normal people, Rek decided to throw him onto the bed before collapsing on top of him. The entire night Rek slept comfortably with his arm slung across Jaron's waist, completely undisturbed, while Jaron on the other hand laid awake having every possible crisis known to man.

No matter what Jaron does it continues to end with absolute failure, every single time without fail.

Obviously he’s not complaining about how Rek treats him, like who would possibly complain if an attractive guy gives you their full attention, the absolute princess treatment— the answer is once again no one, absolutely no one would complain. Except if you were an idiot, but that is a different matter altogether.

“Hello sweetheart, I noticed you forgot your phone on the kitchen table last night, so not only do I have it right here, but I have also charged it up for you”

“Oh, thanks- Sweetheart?!”

“Yeah, I was thinking the other day, how come we’ve been dating for the past years, but we’ve never used any pet names for each other. So I'm trying to figure out which fits best— Ummm, Jaron you good? You’re looking a bit pale over there.

“I— We, what. We’re dating? As in together together, we’re— Oh my gosh… why didn’t you tell me?

“Huh? I thought you already knew, are we not together? You have been stealing like half my hoodies, you fall asleep on my chest at least three times a week, and we literally hold hands in public… Jaron you should have told me if you felt uncomfortable. You should know that I value our friendship far more than a possible relationship. Actually what did you think this was?”

For a moment he just stands there, mouth agape. Thoughts that he normally burrows deep down, slowly unravels and begins to resurface to the light once again. There’s no way Rek has actually liked him this whole time. No way. Because if that’s true, then Jaron hasn’t just been playing gay chicken for two years—he’s been losing. Badly.

Him and Rek, it’s always been them against the world, but he has never once considered the implications that Rek thought they were dating, loved him for years on end without ever expecting something in return, and he didn’t even know!

I mean, sure he thought about it more often than he would like to admit, because who wants to openly say "ah yes, I am stupidity, horrendously in love with my best friend." no one, the answer is absolutely no one.

When did this even happen, how did this happen?

It’s Rek! The most perfect man he knows. He’s amazing at speedrunning, escaping nearly every time someone has tried to trap him and every now and then he joins in on Jaron’s crazy ideas. It just doesn’t make any sense that Rek is interested in him.

And sweetheart, SWEETHEART! How was Jaron even supposed to handle this? This is not a normal nickname, you don't just call your apparent partner that. This is basically like a marriage vow— how did he end up in this position…

He was dating Rek, the man he’s been in love with for the past three years. Apparently Jaron has been horridly losing in the longest-running gay chicken game of all time towards his own boyfriend. From now on there should be a picture of him whenever you search up the words "oblivious", or in the Guinness World Record for Most Oblivious Idiot.

Gosh, what has his life come to.

“Umm, Jaron? You okay there buddy?”

“Yes, yes. I'm good, sooo good. I don’t know? I just… I thought we were having a really, really long and elaborate game of gay chicken or something… that doesn’t even really matter, Oh.. How did I even miss this?”

“Oh... Did I read everything wrong, do you want me to stop—

“Oh, no, no, nononono. This is so much better. No take backs, you are stuck with me for the rest of eternity, you chose this. Though we are dating, like actually dating. This means we can do the stuff, like cuddling or kisses— oh my gosh, I can kiss Rekrap.”

Jaron’s brain has short-circuited too much from the past ten minutes. He clutched his chest, leaning forwards until half of his weight was splayed onto Rek. “I can kiss Rekrap,” he whispered to himself, and promptly began to cry-laugh into his hands.

He could feel Rek softly laugh against him while running his hands through Jaron's hair. He could understand why Rek liked this so much last time. Oh, Rek was kissing his forehead— he could finally die happy.

Chapter Text

The fight was complete chaos, but so is every other fight on lifesteal. People quick dropp or haven’t enough gear, betrayals happen, it’s just something you have to take into account when joining anarchy servers. It’s like Murphy's law, what can go wrong will go wrong, so it's better to be overly prepared than not.

This fight however just kept getting worse the longer it went on. Firstly they were jumped with little to no gear on them, secondly Yungy had been complaining the entire day that he wasn’t feeling too good. Which turned out to be true, because only a couple of minutes after he and Pentar began fighting, Yungy kept glitching all over the place, randomly taking damage here and there, unable to use both positions and gaps for some reason. So it wasn’t too much of a surprise to Pentar when Yungy quickly dropped, though that didn’t erase the burning rage he was feeling.

One second they were both there fighting off the others trying to find a leeway, the next a familiar static pulsed around them and just like that Yungy began glitching, fighting against their cruel world. If Pentar had anything to say it was one of the worst feelings, not knowing who is going to be targeted, all he can do is stand there and hope it will pass without anything happening-- it’s wishful thinking he knows, but he’d still much rather prefer that nothing actually happened. Of course he’s not that lucky and the one being struck is his only teammate that’s present. Actually there wasn’t much room for thinking because  before he could process anything before Yungy had been killed.

As much as Pentar had his rivalry and pretend fights with Yungy, he was pretty sure he could never truly be mad at the other man— They have gone through too much together for that to happen. No he felt a blinding rage at himself for freezing up, for not being aware and noticing Yungy being attacked. At them for attacking, they know how disorientating it is, how much everything hurts, that you’re scared and so caught off guard. It didn’t help with his anger, not at all. If anything every swing of his sword felt heavier, sharper, better, fueled by this maddening feeling and his own guilt. 

The fight ended faster than what normally happened because for the first time in a long while he had willingly retreated, as soon as he saw a possible escape he bolted trying to make the most distance between them as possible. They are probably still chasing him, but that’s not important, he didn’t have time for them, they were the most meaningless people right now. All that is important is that he can make sure Yungy’s safe… Of course he’s safe, he’ll wake up at their shared base, hidden far, far away. Yet he still needs to make sure he’s still there, that he doesn’t blame himself, that he knows he’s safe and sound, surrounded by someone who loves him more than anything. 

The world blurred around him as he ran through the different biomes with a single thought in mind— get to Yungy as fast as he possibly can. His lungs burned, begging for more air, but he didn’t slow down, not when he slipped on the wet grass or when an arrow zipped past his shoulder. The only thing that mattered was getting home, the path is all too familiar having done this thousands of times with Yungy by his side.

Pentar bursts into their base, his boots roughly hitting the floor echoes throughout the entirety of  their home. His heart was still hammering in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. The main room was empty, completely silent. For a singular second his heart dropped. The thought of Yungy not being here, of still suffering towards the errored code. 

He tossed his armor and weapons onto the nearest chest before marching in deeper, eyes darting over every corner in the rooms just in case Yungy left the bed to re-gear. Each step felt heavier without being able to see the other man— if he wasn’t there, if the respawn glitched.

Pentar hurriedly pushed open their bedroom door, breath ragged and his eyes wildly searching for him. 

— — — — — 

Fuck, Yungy really hated his luck— or the lack of it. How come he was the only one affected by the glitches. Especially today, why did it decide that the best time to plague people was in battle, a very unfair and a mostly one-sided battle. Which ended up being the death of him, because of course his enemies attacked him at the same time. 

He could still feel the static pulsing around him, crawling onto his skin and settling down only to cause him more pain. He’s suffocating in lag and glitches all alone while everyone else were continuing on with their days with no complications. 

There’s not much for him to do, everything hurts— the small twitches his body keeps making, his ragged breath, everything his body comes in contact with something hurt. And all he can do is lay there staring up to the ceiling, hoping it will end soon enough. Even if the pain were to disappear, what could he really do, all his stuff is gone, his only teammate who’s on isn't even here, his pride has been completely shredded apart, there is no way anyone can make him leave his room for at least a week. 

In the back of his head he can hear everyone mocking him. He had dragged Pentar into agreeing to fight instead of fleeing, knowing they were under geared, tired and at half strength. Pentar’s going to be so mad at him when he returns to base and Yungy can’t do anything about it or how to fix it.

Maybe if he had focused harder, if he had continued to swing, to eat some gapples a couple of seconds earlier. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been the first person to die, maybe Pentar wouldn’t have seen him dying, he wouldn’t have had to pick up Yungy’s slack. 

Yungy pulled the sheets over his face, hot shame burning behind his eyes. He hated himself for being so careless. For glitching. For dying— Oh and Pentar has returned home.

He can hear Pentar's uneven footsteps pounding against the stone floor as he arrives together with the sound of armor being chucked at something. His ragged breath and frantic movement as he makes his way through their base. His heart stutters in his chest, shame curling tighter around his lungs. He can’t face him. Not like this. Not when all he can think about is how badly he failed.

He squeezes his eyes shut as if he could make himself invisible beneath the sheets, but it’s useless. The footsteps grow louder, heavier, until the bedroom curtain is shoved aside with enough force to rattle the hooks.

“Yungy?” Pentar’s voice cracks with urgency, rough from the fight and the run home.

The sound slices right through Yungy’s defenses, because there’s no anger in it. No disappointment. Just pure worry.

And that, somehow, makes it hurt worse.

— — — — — 

“Yungy?” 

Thank goodness he’s okay or as well as he can be after respawning, curled up hiding under his sheets. Pentar gives out a shaky breath, his knees nearly giving out from his intense relief. Ever since Yungy began glitching and died, all he could imagine was Yungy caught up in some death loop or that he would accidentally glitch out of existence.

“Hey.” Pentar says in the softest voice he can muster, no need for the normal edge in his voice, he always uses when bantering with Yungy or when he’s fighting people. He inches forwards carefully as if Yungy’s going to shatter if he isn’t too careful, as if he himself is going to collapse upon himself if he moves any faster. 

“You’re here. I managed to lose them… we’re good, safe.” The words felt clumsy and wrong, like no matter what he’ll say it wouldn’t change anything. He doesn’t have the right words for this, he has never and probably never been good at this. There is so much he can say, that he’s sorry, he should have been more prepared, that he should have done so much more, but all of his words got stuck in his throat.

Instead, he kneels at the side of the bed, hand reached out, hesitating just above the sheets where Yungy lies. He’s aching to pull it away, but he can’t bring himself to remove Yungy’s safety barrier. 

“Yungy… please” To be honest Pentar doesn’t really know what he’s begging for. Anything is enough, just a singular move from Yungy and he’s happy. He slowly lowers himself the rest of the way onto the floor, every ounce of his energy drained during the fight, his escape, his panic. His head slumps onto the edge of the mattress in silent pleas. 

“I’m sorry, I should have done more, should have covered you when you started glitching, but I didn’t and I’m so, so, so sorry.” His voice came out hoarse and muffled by the mattress. For a long moment, the room is filled only with Pentar’s ragged breaths and the faint rustle of the sheets as Yungy shifts beneath them. Maybe Yungy really does blame him, the silence serves as his punishment for not helping him. 

Then Yungy continues to move underneath the sheets. small movements upwards, but Pentar’s breath catches like he’s been given air after drowning. A corner of the sheets is pulled down, just enough for a pair of tired eyes to peek through.

“...You’re stupid, completely and utterly stupid.” Yungy croaks, voice rough. At least he was feeling better if he could still banter with Pentar. “I lagged. I dropped. That’s on me, not you.” He knew Yungy’s voice well enough that he was choking out his words before shame overtook him completely

Pentar shakes his head violently against the sheets. “Don’t say that. You think I didn’t see what happened? I froze, Yungy. I just stood there. You died, and I just let you” The sheets slip fully down as Yungy sits up and freezes. For a second, Pentar swears he’s about to retreat again, back into hiding, but he just continues to sit there. 

The silence between them is unbearable, one drowns in his own shame while the other drowns in his guilt. “You didn’t. Let me that is. It wasn’t your fault, if anything you stay longer than what anyone else would." it comes out as a soft murmur as if he didn’t really want Pentar hearing him.

“Still, I should have done more, I can’t lose you like this. That there is a chance you one day will just not come back to me.” A calloused hand brushes across the top of his head and for a moment he prepares for a battle, but the hand continues to gently strokes his head until Pentar fully relaxes and leans into the touch.

“You didn’t lose me,” he whispers. “I’m right here, I’m not leaving.” Pentar swallows hard, eyes closing as he leans into the touch, but he doesn’t move from the floor. He stays kneeling there like he deserves it.

“You’re impossible, get up here. I’m not doing this with you on the floor like some dumb dog.” Yungy impatiently tugs at Pentar’s hair, softly enough to not hurt him, but still get his point across. 

Pentar lets out something between a laugh and a sob, before giving in to Yungy’s demand and hesitantly climbs onto the bed beside Yungy. Where he is quickly wrapped in the cocoon of blankets he made for himself

They end up laying down chest to chest, foreheads resting against each other, gripping each other as if it’s their lifeline. Him and Yungy together once more, just like it should be.

Gradually the tension in their bodies eases as exhaustion takes over. The fight, glitching and panic feels like background noise compared to Yungy’s steady heartbeat under his hand, his even breath brushing against his skin.

No words pass between them. They don’t need them. The closeness says it all—the way Yungy’s hand knots in Pentar’s hair or the way Pentar has gently cupped one of Yungy’s cheeks with one hand and rubs slow circles on his side with the other. Their grip softens as their warmth lulls them into a peaceful slumber.

They’re both there, completely safe wrapped up in each other’s warm embrace. 

Chapter Text

Life is terrible. How come every single one of his shawls are in need of a wash.— Actually that’s not true, what he has been doing is wearing the colourful ones nonstop for the past three months, only leaving the sad and colourless ones left. What he hasn’t been doing is actually washing them, all he has done is put them in a shulker and pushed it away to deal with later, which he clearly hasn’t been doing.

Damn it Parrot. This is like the Wifies situation all over again, except instead of Wifies it’s Theo. One of the only other bird hybrids he knew of, who would not only notice if Parrot suddenly changed into more earthy and dull shawls instead of his usual colourful ones. He will also bother him until he figures out why.

Unlike Wifies who simply didn’t know of the meaning behind his shawls, or any type of bird instincts, Theo on the other hand is a bird and understands these instincts and whatever nonsense his birdbrain does better than anyone else. It would be so easy for Theo to find out and call him out on it too.

How could Parrot even possibly begin that he had unknowingly started courting Theo and once he actually realised what he was doing, something just clicked in his brain. He found out he actually really liked the idea of them together, so he never stopped doing it.

To be honest, Parrot has no idea how Theo actually hasn’t caught onto what’s happening. Sure they are different types of birds, him being— as his name oh so bluntly tells you, a parrot, Theo on the other hand being a tawny eagle, but they had a surprising amount of courtings, habits and rituals that were nearly identical. If you asked a non-hybrid they would probably say they were identical, which they’re not, because Parrot had done his research about this.

He really is thinking way too much about all of this, there isn’t a minute that goes by in their shop where he is not thinking about Theo or a possible future where they were together. Which is not going to happen, at least not in the foreseeable future.

If he’s lucky, he can maybe get away with not wearing any shawls at all, while he would still be questioned, he can probably make an excuse along the lines of it being hot enough to not need them for awhile or that he needs to become more comfortable without a shawl since he’s been wearing it religiously for the past four months. It would also be the only thing he could somewhat, maybe get away with.

Besides if he got too cold he could just puff out his feathers, which wouldn’t be too unusual since Parrot had been unknowingly turned knowingly puffing them up, making them all colourful and pretty for Theo’s eyes.

It’s too early to deal with this crisis, like the sun isn’t even fully up, barely peaking over the horizon, but Parrot had decided his best course of action would be to sneak out long before anyone in their right mind would wake up. It’s a simple plan really— grab his colourful shawls, stuff them in a shulker and bolt to the nearest river before Theo leaves his nest.

Simple. Flawless. Completely foolproof.

The shawls themselves aren’t the problem— Why would they, what could they possibly do. No, the problem is him. His claws scraped faintly against the shulker lid, his wings twitched every time he thought he heard movement, and his feathers puffed at the thought of Theo waking up. He was basically a walking noise machine that only got worse over time.

Of course the universe wants to have one last laugh at him, one of his wing feathers got stuck in the shulker so when he tried to move he accidentally ripped the whole feather off. Now like any other person, Parrot yells out loud when he’s hurt— and it was a yell, because Parrot doesn’t do screaming.
He clutched his wing to his side, muttering curses through his teeth as he blinked away the sting in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, Theo had somehow slept through that and Parrot could finally sneak away.
Unfortunately for him this also seems to have woken Theo up, because only a few seconds later there’s the unmistakable sound of a shifting mattress and before he knows it there’s movement behind him joined with a tired yawn that can only belong to the other bird.

“…Parrot? Are you okay, what happened?” Oh Parrot was so fucked, he couldn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest, both from accidentally walking Theo, but also from hearing his worry about Parrot feeling him this close to his own body, if he were to lean back just a bit they would be touching or would cuddling be the right name for it. “And is that laundry you're doing?”

And there his wings go puffing themselves up. “I’m… uhh, good and yeah laundry, a totally very normal morning actually, why?” Theo doesn’t answer right away. Just tilts his head, eyes carefully studying over the room.

Parrot swallows hard, forcing out a small laugh. This is it. This is how he’s going to die. Theo leaned closer, his voice softer now but edged with concern. “Parrot. You’re bleeding. And that’s one of your primaries. That doesn’t just happen without any means.”

Parrot hated—no, he loved that look, sharp, worried with intent to fix something. It meant Theo was paying attention to him. It meant Theo cared enough to notice. Theo continues to lean in, gaze flicking from the stray feather on the floor to the way Parrot clutches his wing. His wings puffing out resting over Parrots shoulders in comfort.

“Come sit. I’ll clean the wound and get you something to eat.” Theo didn’t wait for an answer, instead pressing his wing steadily against Parrot's back to guide him towards their kitchen.

Parrot is seriously not going to survive this day. He‘d been trying to win Theo’s attention with colours, food and a nice home to get back to. And now Theo was the one wrapping him up, pampering him with comfort as if it were second nature.

Parrot stumbled along under the quiet pressure of Theo’s wing, too flustered to resist. The kitchen was still half-dark, lit only by the pale yellow light spilling in from the horizon. Parrot sat stiffly, wing still curled protectively to his side.

Theo moved around the kitchen with a quiet efficiency, feathers still slightly ruffled from sleep. He set a cup of water down, tore clean strips of cloth with careful hands, where he gently applied pressure for where his missing feather should have been, quietly humming as he worked.

Parrot sat frozen with his eyes closed, letting Theo do whatever he pleased. He isn’t sure how long he sat there, but when he opened his eyes again, Theo had placed a warm plate of food in front of him. The smell should have made his stomach growl, but all Parrot could focus on was the way Theo nudged the plate closer, like feeding him was the most natural thing in the world.

He ate in small bites, more to appease Theo and the way he was closely watching him than out of hunger. Oh how Parrot loved this. His heart kept pounding in his chest and his feathers kept fluffing up.

If his mornings kept going like this he might actually not survive, but he also wouldn’t want it any other way.

Chapter Text

“No, you are not leaving, come right back here. You don’t get to help me, saying you’ll do anything so I can get my crew back, only to leave when I found out who you were” Even after having fought Jaiden on multiple occasions, having worked with him for weeks, Wemmbu had never heard this tone coming from the other man. There was no anger in his voice, no bite or venom like Wemmbu had expected. No it was just stern, with hints of sadness? 

“You don’t get to run now. Not after everything we’ve just been through and even if you were to leave, where would you go? You said you left everything behind." Jaiden was right, Wemmbu had left everything behind, he faked his death just to get away from everything. 

“Stay here, you’ll actually have some place to stay, do whatever you want— no one needs to know who you are, you can continue to keep whatever secrets or riches you own, just stay here.” 

Wemmbu’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as he played with the idea in his head. On one hand this could be really good for him, he had enjoyed his time with Jaiden and he was offering a permanent space with him. A place he can always return to with players who will help him. On the other hand he still has to hunt down and kill boosfer, to truly make sure no one will ever reveal his identity and until that happens nothing can truly be his again.

He kept looking back and forth between Jaiden and the ocean around him, before letting out a big sigh and moving towards Jaiden. It wasn’t a full agreement into staying, but he wasn’t leaving just yet. Jaiden seemed to have understood him, because he gave Wemmbu a relieved sigh and a smile.

“Thank you, whatever you need, we’ll deal with it together. You want Boosfer gone, that's what’s going to happen. We’ll assemble a crew and we will hunt him down until he dies.” He gave a slow nod. It wasn’t a thank-you or an agreement, only acknowledgment for what is to come.

If Jaiden meant what he said, then this base could be their biggest tool— where they enlist people to join them, a place to regroup, gather information and start their hunt.
“We’ll start tomorrow,” he said. “I’l find people to join us. You’ll write down and find as much information on Boosfer, then we’ll go from there.”

He would stay. He would use what the base offered. And when the time came, he would find Boosfer and make sure the loose thread was cut clean. Then they’ll decide what will happen after, if Wemmbu actually stays with him in his pirate empire or if he will take off and continue on with his life. 

“I’ll meet up with the capital city guards, I know they want Boosfer gone. That’s at least twenty ish people… Eggs probably have more information too.” Jaiden’s face sharpened at the name, tilting his head in confusion. “Speaking of Egg, where is he? Last I remember he was following you wherever you went. ”

Wemmbu’s mouth tightened into a thin line, deciding if it was worth it to tell the other man. “In the end. His spawn point is thousands of blocks in the Farlands, so he’s stuck there with the end guardian for now.” The less information people knew, the easier it would be to keep Egg safe, far away from battle. 

Jaiden’s confusion quickly turned into understanding and let the topic be, no point trying to involve someone who’s not here at the moment. “I see, anyways it’s already late. We should find a bedroom and turn in for the night. We will deal with this in the morning.” He once again used that tone which left no room for Wemmbu to argue with, no matter how much he wanted to. 

Wemmbu gave his agreement like Jaiden expected, before falling in steps with the other man, both trying to navigate the raided base for a place to rest. Tomorrow would be relentless: tracking Boosfer’s movements, cooperating with the capital city guards, assembling a crew, getting information from Egg, and lastly planning their strike. Every detail mattered if they were to succeed, and neither could afford mistakes.

At the same time their new found base demanded a lot of attention too before it would be liveable in it. Cleaning the remains of their battle, fixing what’s destroyed, sorting through their stuff and making a lot of systems for communication, navigation and security. 

Jaiden’s stride was steady beside him, but Wemmbu could feel the tension in his shoulders from when they brushed alongside each other. The incoming weeks would truly test their patience and future working together. 

After some time, they had finally found a section of the base that had mostly escaped the fight all together, luckily the fates had lined up together and it was the sleeping quarters. The walls were damp in need of a fix, but it would do for the upcoming days. 

“Rest well Wemmbu, I’ll see you tomorrow." Jaiden gave a courtesy nod while opening a room ready to enter and go to bed. He in return gave a brief nod in return, walking into his own room for the night. It had to be one of the worst rooms he had ever stayed in    before— the mattress was thin, the boards creaked under his weight, and the damp smell clung to the corners, but he could deal with this for a short while.

He flung himself on the mattress, choosing to not be bothered by anything. What he needed was sleep and nothing was going to stop him. For the first time in days, Wemmbu allowed himself a moment of stillness, to close his eyes and relax. And for the first time in a long while, sleep effortlessly pulled him into their realm.

Chapter Text

Every now and then when Mane looks at Flame he can’t help but see the little child from their childhood. The child he has helped and protected over and over again, the child he will keep helping and protecting, because no matter what Flame says he will always be Mane’s little brother no matter what.

Time moves strangely. Sometimes, when Mane turns, he still half-expects to find a small boy clinging to his sleeve rather than the grown man Flame is now. Call him hypocritical if you want, but those two years between them can feel like an entire lifetime of difference.

Those two years meant Mane was the one walking first, making sure there weren't any traps. He was the one taking the first blow, testing the waters before his brother ever had to. It was a role he naturally slipped into, because if Mane could spare Flame a fraction of pain or danger,he would.

They have been together nearly for the entirety of their lives. Always hoping servers together, trained together, constantly fighting side by side no matter what. Mane can’t really remember a time before him and Flame, it probably wasn’t that eventful either. Both were too young to have done anything at that time.

They're a family, a pack. It has been shown time and time again that their loyalty knows no bounds, that it’s impossible to come between the bond they have built with their own hand after years of years of standing by each other. Every loss, every win, every scar experienced together has only brought them closer.

Even now when they’re both adults Mane finds himself watching over Flame more often than not, making sure he’s eating and drinking enough throughout the day, that he always has enough gear and hearts. A quiet vigilance where he can take care of Flame and where the other man can’t complain about his “mother henning.”

It’s an old habit— instinct, woven into their every move. That no matter how far Flame stretches himself, how far he’s planning to go Mane will always be there, proudly watching over him prepared that if anything were to happen, Flame would not fall alone.

Flame has never really said anything about it, but Mane knows that the other has always known about it. From when he was still scraping his knees after running too fast, into his teenage years where he was constantly trying to one up himself and Mane, even in adulthood he lets Mane fuss and worry without too much complaining, quietly indulging himself in the soft moments between the two.

At least when they’re alone. He’s pretty sure would kill him with no hesitation if Mane were to talk about their childhood to others, especially if it was before or during when Flame was learning PvP.

Where he would recklessly jump into battle, severely overestimating his own abilities and understanding everyone else around him. Where he would complain about his losses while Mane would patch him up and make him something to eat. Where he would constantly seek out something to become the strongest.

Mane vividly remembers those nights when Flame would slam his fists against the table in frustration, swearing he’d never lose to anyone again, only to crawl back for another round the very next day and all Mane could do was to watch and guide, knowing that one day he would reach his goal of becoming the best.

And he did. Somewhere along the way, the boy who tripped over his own feet grew into someone who stands toe to toe with the best of them, laughing as they attack him. The fiery determination that once seemed too big for his small frame had settled into something sharper, steadier, yet still just as relentless. Mane sometimes wonders if Flame even realizes how much of that journey he’s already conquered, or if he’s still chasing after an invisible finish line only he can see.

But no matter how much Flame has changed over the years, some things between them have stayed the same. He still lets Mane hover nearby, still rolls his eyes when Mane nags him about eating enough throughout the day.

Though sometimes Mane catches himself thinking about how other people saw them. To the outside world, Flame is the immortal demon, a figure that inspires awe and fear. Mane, just like his brother, had gained his own fierce reputation for fighting. Two sides of the same coin— a pair with unmatched strength, who no one could keep up with.

Maybe it was for the best that the world could have their immortal demon who sat on a pedestal no one could dream of reaching, while he could keep his brother who used to come to him for comfort or the quiet laughs they share for some stupid joke only they would understand.

Those are memories no one else is entitled to. They’re the pieces of Flame that Mane has carried through every stage of their lives, from childhood stumbles to adult victories, from the boy clinging to his sleeve to the man who now commands fear with nothing more than a grin. The world can keep its immortal demon, its stories of impossible strength and unshakable will. Mane will keep his little brother—the one who still lets him worry, who still leans on him in quiet ways.

Even now, the small things matter more than anyone else could see. The way Flame lingers a moment longer when Mane adjusts his gear or the subtle smirk that dances across his face when Mane nags about food or rest. The soft evenings they share in silence, side by side.

Those simple, fleeting moments that are Mane’s favorite. The quiet laughter over some ridiculous mistake, the way Flame leans back just slightly when Mane fusses over him, the comfortable silences that need no words. It’s in these tiny pieces of time that Mane feels the full weight of their bond—the trust, the loyalty, the years of shared triumphs and failures woven into something unbreakable.

And for Mane that’s enough.

Chapter Text

Back then his time with the Empire had felt endless, with only himself to fill the deafening silence for any sort of company. He had constantly complained to his teammates that he was completely alone, that when the fights started, no one was there to watch his back. No reinforcements, no voices in call, just his own breath echoing against the clatter of weapons.

He had spent weeks, months hoping that his teammates would log on to no avail and it wasn’t until the Empire had disbanded that the others had begun logging back on the server as if their team wasn’t something worth logging in for, that he wasn’t something worth logging in for.

And that hurt so much more. Every day was a reminder that he was continuing on for something no one else seemed to care enough about. The hours he spent in battles and building meant nothing to the people who were supposed to stand by his side.

For season 7 he had been a bit unsure of what was going to happen. On one hand he couldn’t help thinking that history would repeat itself and was going to happen again, he’ll be left alone waiting and watching the tablist of usernames that won’t turn green. On the other hand he carried a fragile hope that this time it would be different, this was a different team, with goals they had all agreed on and most of his teammates had been pretty active last season.

Unfortunately for him it seemed that his doubts were correct. Launch day came and went they all showed up, but as the season continued on the less they began to show up. By week one Ash and Spoke were barely logging on, but sometimes joining a call to talk.

The only positive thing that happened was Leo joining their team, meaning that instead of being alone he now has both Mane and Leo with him. So he had at least two people to fight with him and make a base which is actually going to be used by more than just himself.

It wasn’t the full team like he wished for, but it was something. He could have ended up with all of his teammates off, so it’s all about the small victories, however fleeting, were better than nothing at all.

Ro logged on a couple of weeks after season 7 launch, while they aren't teammates they are still friends and have helped each other multiple times across teams. And he became another steady presence in his corner. And it was really nice to talk to someone else, especially after Mane banned himself from the server.

Losing Mane had cut deeper than he wanted to admit, sure they often clashed heads against each other and didn’t really agree on a lot, though he had still stayed and made the base feel more alive.

So he decided not to wait anymore. Instead, he would fight and build alongside those who were there, whether they wore the same banner or not. He couldn’t change the past or their actions, but he could move past it.

That’s probably why his alliance with Ro mattered so much to him. Even though they weren’t bound by a team, Ro had chosen to stay with him. When he was in need of materials or manpower for whatever project he was working on, Ro was so willing to help him with whatever he might need. He wasn’t there every second of every day, but when he was, he was reliable, steady and constantly cracking some stupid jokes.

It gave him something he hadn’t felt in a long time. The freedom to stop waiting. To stop refreshing the tablist, hoping for the gray names to flicker back to green. It wasn’t about what or who he was missing anymore— it was about what he already had. And for once, that felt like enough.

He found himself looking forward to those moments with Ro. The late nights on call, when the server was quiet and it was just the two of them, had become some kind of a routine. Ro would tease him over some build choice or make a dumb pun, and he’d roll his eyes, but the smile nonetheless.

It wasn’t just the jokes, though. It was the way Ro listened when he spoke, the way he never made him feel like he was carrying everything alone. And maybe that was why, when he caught himself waiting for Ro to log on long before he even glanced at his teammates who had left him behind.

Sometimes he would wander through the world alone, gathering materials or scouting, only to find Ro already nearby, working on his own projects, but leaving small signs of helping Mapicc. Like a stocked with supplies, or giving him extra of anything Ro already had enough of. Simply just to spare him a couple of minutes of work. Little gestures, never announced, but something he always noticed.

Those small moments started to feel like more than just teamwork. He realized he was noticing them before he even consciously registered it—feeling a small sense of relief, a spark of anticipation, when he saw Ro’s name pop up on the tablist. And even though they lived in separate bases, doing their own work, the world felt smaller, warmer, less lonely, when Ro was around.

He wasn’t sure when it started, but at some point he stopped simply being excited for Ro to log on, rather he was excited to see Ro, to spend more time with him. Even the smallest interactions between them felt so much better. The way Ro’s laughter sounded so nice, his teasing that made Mapicc’s chest tighten with a warmth.

Sometimes he wished that their bases weren't so far away from each other, though that was a dangerous thought he should push away, but the feeling still lingered. It wasn’t even about needing him, Mapicc had and probably could continue on without him, but he wanted to stay with Ro for as long as he could.

Mapicc had found a rhythm he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was about the certainty that Ro would be there for him, his presence made the world feel lighter, warmer, more alive. He liked how their routines had intertwined, he would follow Ro wherever he would go, because for once he found someone worth holding onto, who would hold onto him just as hard.

Chapter Text

He was human, he used to be human.

He used to have a body that belonged to him, that obeyed him. He used to bleed actual blood instead of some weird oozing ichor, he used to have limbs that could break instead of just glitching out of existence and then coming back as if nothing happened. A couple of years ago his voice didn’t become all static whenever he talked for too long or act like a really bad microphone.

His reflection wasn’t even his anymore. He didn’t share any traits with what he used to look like and his body, his body is outlined by patches and errors, a shape that constantly moved around and belonged to no living thing.

The worst part of it all was that he had asked for it. He had built up the wormhole from scratch together with Ash, Subz and Vitalasy in the search of power, and it had given them it. They became gods, but it had taken everything in return.

They had all been so happy when it first happened, they were above human capacity, they could do anything they wanted with no repercussions. And then the new season started and they were still stuck in a body that wasn’t meant for them.

When they had offered up their bodies, their humanity for godhood they thought it would only last for that season, but it wasn't until the next one started, before they realised that they still haven’t become who they originally were and that when they offered up their everything to the wormhole it was going to be permanent.

They would forever be stuck in bodies mostly made out of glitches and exploits that were in constant clash with their world. The bodies wasn’t theirs anymore, all that was left was the wreckage of their own mistakes

And yet he still revered it. He could feel its pull even though it doesn't exist anymore, it continues to hum in the back of his mind, still whispering promises of power he doesn’t want anymore. He used to devote himself to it, and a small desperate part of him still wanted to crawl back to it, to worship, to beg for a fraction more power. Another fragment of control, to continue feeling impossible, an endless thing that the wormhole can do.

The other part absolutely hated it and wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Every scrap of flesh, every certainty, every trace of what he once was is gone, replaced by a glitching vessel that only pretended to be him. He had lost multiple friendships, no one trusts him anymore, no one wants to team with him. He is completely and utterly alone. Not only is he a stranger in his own body, he has also technically become a stranger to the other members too.

Even with all of his new strangeness and wrongness he sometimes feels small fragments surfacing, fleeting reminders of who he used to be. Their brief presence reminding him of what he lost, what his friends lost— of a person who will never return.

Small repeating actions of who he used to be kept plaguing him, A laugh at something the others couldn’t see, spilling from him in distorted bursts like a broken record.
Other times he cried or became hysterical for no reason. They were brief, unreliable, moments and most of the time drowned out by the glitches that had taken over his body.

A memory of the way sunlight used to feel on his skin would hit him at the wrong moment, leaving him trembling, fingers clenching around nothing. Sometimes everything felt like a cruel trick towards him, as if the wormhole itself were mocking him, letting tiny fragments of warmth, life and his humanity seep through only to be ripped away again.

And there is nothing he can do about it, most of the time he can’t even remember who he used to be before the Wormhole. Names, faces, and feelings slipped in and out of his mind, sometimes merging into strange, impossible combinations that made him question what had truly happened and what the Wormhole had made.

Just like he couldn’t fully trust his own body, he couldn’t trust his own thoughts, even the simplest decisions felt so much bigger, he was constantly uncertain, every recollection unreliable, and the more he tried to piece himself together, the more the fragments scattered around.

He wondered if Ash, Subz, and Vitalasy felt the same. Or if they had learned to accept, to enjoy the wreckage of themselves. Had they found a way to comfortably live in their new body or were they also living in confusion, lost in the shadow of who they used to be.

Imprisoned by fractured memories and their own self doubts or were they able to endure and put it behind them, continuing forwards. And if so, how come he couldn’t do that. Why was he so hung up and affected by this? What made him so much different from the others, was it his punishment from lying and betraying Parrot?
He wasn’t human and he isn’t the person he used to be, the one who actually owned the body. He knew that, he knew that better than anyone else. The thought gnawed at him, was he enough to be labeled as his own person. Did others look at him and think he was Spoke, or was he just an exploit who mimicked human behaviour and pretending to be their old friend.

He still looked like he was a living and breathing, he still acted like he was someone,
but was that really enough. He couldn’t tell where he ended and the wormhole began, if there even were actual parts of him left. Does he even count as a he or is it just an it— built up by a patchwork of glitches and exploits, running on borrowed memories and the hollow echo of a life it can’t claim as its.