mech_514
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“So…” Juan started awkwardly, drumming his fingers against the mug. “Are you coming to karaoke tomorrow? Most of the North is gonna be there.”
Graf looked up, parted his lips, but said nothing for a moment. Then he glanced back toward the window, as if whatever was beyond the glass had suddenly become more interesting than this conversation.
“Perchance.”
“Perchance…?”
“I’m not sure if I’ll come yet.”
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or what if the events of date 3 never happened, Juan didn't reject the Graf and they just continued hanging out as if nothing was happening (everything was happening)
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“So,” Quackity finally spoke, straightening and pushing off from the table, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes, framing a face that seemed to blend curiosity with a faintly provocative smile, “when are you finally going to do something? The things you do when no one’s watching?”
Multi froze. Literally. His eyes widened slightly, the sheet in his hand bending under the pressure of fingers that automatically clenched tighter. For a moment, absolute silence reigned, as if time in the laboratory had stopped.
“…What do you mean?” he asked calmly, almost too calmly, his voice cold, measured, masking the sudden rush of adrenaline in his veins.
Quackity shrugged, taking a slight step to the side, moving slowly along the table, observing every motion of Multi.
“You know,” he murmured, smiling faintly, “what you really do.”
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Ewron, for fun, blocks the reactor door, leaving Multi and Quackity inside. Together, they come to some conclusions.
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Seconds passed slowly, stretching into something that was hard to call time. Silence filled the space, but it was not empty — it was tense, as if something was about to break it at any moment. Ewron listened to it, catching every smallest sound: a faint vibration in the air, a barely audible rustle of fabric, a distant echo of something that might have been an illusion.
Nothing changed. And that was exactly the problem.
'How much longer?' crossed his mind, though it had nothing to do with impatience. It was purely analytical — how long can such an illusion of calm be maintained before it breaks?
And then—
“Will you come out on your own… or should I pretend I don’t see you?”
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Ewron is hired to kill Ash. Sometimes he should better check his employers.
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The forest is silent. His eyes begin to sting. It's his fault. He left him alone. He let him go. He let him die.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, though no one is here to hear.
And then he sees the feather. It's lying on the ground beneath the window. One of his feathers. Broken. Wifies doesn't remember running out of the house. He kneels beside it, his hands shaking so much he can barely lift it. It's warm.
Why is it warm? Why is it fresh?
Behind him, something moves.
"See?"
He freezes. That voice. He slowly turns around. Parrotx2 stands a few meters away. But something is wrong. His wings are in worse shape than ever. The feathers are torn. Blood. Too much blood. It's running down his back, his arms, his hands. His eyes are empty.
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or, wifies saves a parrot from a cult and then falls into paranoia. sort of.
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i thought that lilies died by winter then they bloomed again in spring by mech_514
Fandoms: Unstable Universe (Web Series)
11 Feb 2026
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The whole thing takes maybe three minutes, and Eggchan hasn’t even properly disinfected the burn on the demon’s hand yet.
“You’re awful at this,” Wemmbu mutters, closing his eyes. “I’d do it better myself.”
Eggchan knows it isn’t malicious. It never is. Still, he leaves the cotton pad in Wemmbu’s hand, silently suggesting he take care of it himself. Wemmbu looks away, muttering under his breath, making Eggchan chuckles quietly.
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or, wemmbu takes a lot of damage, goes back to the end, so eggchan helps him. well at least he tries.