dream smp oneshots and unfinished fics

ufo

Everything was going great. Which, in hindsight, should have thrown up at least some of Purpled's alarm bells.

He isn't really used to things going as smoothly as they did. Quackity is a creep -- that much was evident by the time they got to the banquet, what with Quackity telling Purpled and Techno to stay back, even while hearing Foolish get murdered -- but it wasn't Purpled's first time working with weirdos and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He'd always been told to ignore the people. They mattered far less than that job, and even that mattered less than the reward.

It was an easy enough philosophy to comprehend, but it was much easier said than done. He could never execute it like Punz could, he couldn't stop himsel from feeling sick at Puffy's guttural scream of unfiltered loss and despair, even if it was only because he knew her. If it was a stranger's job and he had no connections to anyone there, it would have been different. He wouldn't have felt bad. He wouldn't have felt.

...that's what he tells himself, and it might as well be true. As long as he can completely ignore the feeling, it's like not having it there at all. Isn't it basically the same thing?

Quackity is a freak -- that much is evident, but he still paid well and upheld his end of their deal. The chest Purpled opens has the agreed amount of diamond and gold and emerald blocks, along with a couple of things Purpled had requested for his own personal projects.

Everything is in order. Everything is going well. Purpled is just about to leave and go back to hiding from the rest of the server, hiding from reality, when reality catches up with him and shatters his world.

And the reality is that he isn't like Punz. He isn't like Dream. He isn't like Quackity.

He's Purpled, as much as he hates to admit it. He's Purpled and he still cares. He still has attachments. He still has feelings.

And one of the main sources of those emotions, that attachment, that care is being blown up in front of him.

It might have been a button, a lever, it might have been a pressure plate for all Purpled knows, all he knows is the sound of the explosion. It's unlike anything the boy has ever heard before. When L'Manburg blew up for the first time, it was loud, but it wasn't unbearable. It was everywhere at once, spaced out, and it felt like he was suffocating, but it only lasted a few seconds before he hit the ground and sprained something and was left to deal with it and move on. When New L'Manburg blew up, it was constant. It was patterned. It hurt his brain in ways he couldn't possibly describe, and he had to leave before its terrifying steadiness and volume drove him into a panic attack that he'd either have to get out of himself or have his brother help him with, which wasn't much better.

This is worse. This is so much worse.

He heard the first fuse and whipped around to the source of the noise, and he stares in shock and terror as his UFO, one of the first builds on this stupid, shitty server, his only home, his everything aside from Punz and the contents of his enderchest, explodes into pieces in front of him. It sounds like fireworks going off in his brain, like popcorn folding in on itself and bouncing around the confines of sound. It almost deafens him. He screams and ducks away as metal debris and glass gets sent flying in all all directions, covering his head as he cowers in fear. Quackity doesn't even flinch. He stares, almost like a statue, as he destroys everything that was Purpled's.

When the boy straightens, trembling and shaking, he can barely stop himself from bursting into tears -- he would never forgive himself for that -- and he can't stop the sharp tug in his chest from teleporting him onto one of the floating pieces of metal, only suspended in the air by the remaining energy from the UFO. He stumbles when he lands, the piece moving with his weight before stabilizing, and he can barely hear Quackity's loud cackles over the roar in his ears as he gazes over his completely home and feels...