Archive of Our Own ^beta

Do not forget. Always, somewhere, someone is fighting for you. 

As long as you remember her, you are not alone. 

The wind billows through salt-and-pepper pillars, leaves rustling in the trees around the thin, tall diorite tower. From the very top, dull black eyes watch- from below messy blonde hair, light yellow strands as still as the person they once belonged to. 

The air dances, weaves, plays through and around buildings of wood and stone. A weary wolf or two pant, a chicken clucks in the distance. Fields of golden wheat stretch as far as the eye can see, some shoots still sprouting- growing under the pale sun, that illuminates remains of a long gone past. Not a human in sight, yet this place is so full of sound, movement, soul . 

This place is alive. 

“Oof,” Aimsey huffs, placing the last log of spruce they have. It hasn’t even been a few weeks on this SMP and they’ve already had a couple of run-ins with its residents. First, they got evicted, then found out their friend was actually a ghost this entire time, and then lost one of their canon lives.  

“What a mess, huh, chat?” they say, not talking to the walkie-talkie in particular. It’s just a habit at this point, and sometimes it got too tedious to fish it out of their inventory and press the buttons. Aimsey has a feeling they can hear them anyway. They take a step back to admire their handiwork. Well, it’s not too bad for now. Nothing compared to their wif- mansion , but they’d never know what to do with all that space anyway. It always felt so damn lonely . 

They lean against their walking cane. 

“Hello Aimsey.” 

Boo. 

“Hello R- Boo,” Aimsey sighs, facing the enderman hybrid. 

“Seems like you’ve finished building?” he peers at the structure curiously. It’s not like he even needs to, the guy probably has been watching this entire time. 

“No thanks to you,” mutters the shorter. 

“I’m sorry for lying to you.” 

“Are you?” 

“I am.” 

“If you’re really that sorry, I’d appreciate it if you gave me some space.” 

“...sorry.” 

The static in the air dissipates as Ranboo dematerializes from where he towered over them. 

“What a mess.” 

How long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? 

What had it felt like- to fall? The wind in your hair. The sun, glaring almost accusingly, it’s harsh rays as if tearing through your eyes. The ground, as it approached almost in slow-motion, sealing your fate- the inevitable reply to the choice you made. 

Had you made that choice? 

Aimsey simply can’t put their finger on why the people on this goddamn server were so keen to start wars. Not only have they been killed by their dead ex(?)-friend’s husband (apparently), but now they have to deal with a (presumably) angry owner of a rival business. 

(A treacherous voice whispers in their mind of an old friend. A friend who’d warned them that all SMPs end in war.) 

They have no clue why the owner of McPuffy’s would have an issue with their coffee shop, when their little ghost friend had told them that they were free to build as they pleased (then again, he had lied to them about the whole being dead thing). 

Confused musings brew in their thoughts as Aimsey heads over to have a chat with Captain Puffy. Best case scenario? She’d be willing to talk and they’d sort out any miscommunication the two might’ve had (which is strange considering they’d NEVER communicated before but okay). Worst case scenario? They’d probably lose another canon life (Aimsey could still feel the air rushing all around them, the occasional pain in their leg and the subsequent limp being the only proof of anything bad happening to them at all). 

Death was strange on this server, but Aimsey was no stranger to death. 

They shake their head slightly. 

No point in wallowing in such thoughts. 

Positive thoughts. Happy thoughts. 

“I’m only simply saying- chaos isn’t needed,” the say aloud. The walkie-talkie had started to play static, a normal occurrence whenever Aimsey hadn’t talked to them for a while, so they began to continue their musings aloud. 

Not everything, though, but they knew it probably didn’t matter much. 

Chat always seemed to more a bit than Aimsey themself. 

“Captain Puffy?” they call out, upon approaching the empty McPuffy’s establishment. “Captain Puffy, it’s Aimsey- the owner of Aimsbucks? You know, the café you waged war on, for some reason?" 

There was no answer. 

Long brown hair sways as they poke their head through the door.  

Nope. There was no one around. Except for rats. 

Then, something colourful catches their eye. 

“What the fuck?” Aimsey exclaims, thoroughly bewildered. 

A poster- picture of their likeness with signs that bore less than friendly wishes of war and bloodshed on Captain Puffy and their establishment stares back at them. 

Aimsey has no idea what in the stars’ name is going on. 

One thing they do know, however, is that they definitely weren’t the one who’d put this here. 

Which could mean only one thing. 

“Did Ponk and Seepeakay set me up?” 

They were the last ones they’d talked to, and what they’d heard from both hadn’t eased their mind. 

Aimsey’s stomach swirles. 

They couldn’t have backstabbed them, surely not. They had no reason to. Why would they? 

That’s rich coming from you.  

They feel sick. 

Rockie-talkie crackles, snapping them out of what definitely would’ve been a downward spiral into memories. 

“Thanks chat,” they murmur, swaying a little as they stumble a bit where they stand. 

Okay, enough. 

That was well and truly in the past. 

Aimsey squeezes their eyes shut, trying to clear the static in their head. With a laboured sigh, they crack open their eyelids, chocolate-brown eyes sweeping over the building in front of them. Well, now that they’re here, why not try to set the record straight and help out Captain Puffy a bit by clearing out the rats and bugs? It might help calm her down and make her willing to talk the entire situation out. 

With another shaky sigh, Aimsey gathers themself together and gets to work. 

Everything is grey. Or so it feels like. 

In reality, it isn’t. 

The sky is still blue, the sun still yellow, the grass still green, the ocean still blue, the trees in the forest still brown and green, the daisies in the field still white and yellow, and the pigs in the field still pink. 

Dull, dark eyes stare unseeingly. 

The sky is blue. The sun is yellow. The grass is green. The ocean is blue. The trees in the forest are brown and green. The daisies in the field are white and yellow. The pigs in the field are pink. 

Blonde hair hangs in greasy clumps. 

The sky is blue. The sun is yellow. The grass is green. The ocean is blue. The trees in the forest are brown and green. The daisies in the field are white and yellow. The pigs in the field are pink. 

An arm hangs limply from a worn and faded patterned red sleeve. 

The sky is b̷l̴u̵e̷. The sun is y̷͉͂e̸̗̕l̴̠̈́l̶̙̏o̶̜͛ẅ̴̬. The grass is g̸̰͈͑͝r̴̬̀̚ě̸̲̑e̴͇̖̎͊n̵̤̠̂. The ocean is b̷̧̲̌ľ̸̮̥̝ū̶̟e̴̻͑̍. The trees in the forest are b̵̮͍̩͙͛͂͐͝r̵͔̮̯͑͗́ő̵̟̱w̷̺͖͆n̴̹̭͋͜ ̶̣̤̰̀̈́͘͜a̷̠͒̓͘͝ṉ̸̢̑̾̌̕d̵̢̡̤͔͊̈̚ ̸̠̇̔̚ͅg̸̛̮̽̚͘ṙ̷͔̹̔̈̄͜ͅē̴̯̓̐ḙ̴̱͖̾͗ņ̵̡̛̬̞̈́͒̽. The daisies in the field are w̴̧̰͔̭͛̆̈́ḣ̷̙̱̫̹̑̆ǐ̶̙̭̗͒t̵͍͆ȩ̷͔̖͍̣̌̓͘ ̶͈̥̌̎́ä̸̙̰̮n̶̦̽͊̈́d̵̯͒̈́̌ ̶̈́̀͗ͅý̴̲͖̹̓́͠e̸͈͕̱̙͋ḻ̴̱̜͓̮͐͒͑̆l̸͚͎̈́̿̌̋͝o̶͔̞͐͑̊͗w̶̭͉̏͛̈. The pigs in the field are p̴̡͉̽̚͜͝͠ͅï̴̹͓n̶̢̟͎̳̺͔̈́̽̇̾̌͠ḵ̷̄͊̋͜͝. 

Are you lying? 

No. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

Yes. 

In Aimsey’s defence, they had been the one to fix Ponk’s lemon tree in the first place. With the help of Seepeakay, of course, but they had done it. 

So it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if either one of Boomer or them, ahem, trips and accidentally sets the entire thing on fire. 

Surely not! 

Boomer was a fun guy. Sure, he seemed like a bit of a fire-hazard, but you couldn’t blame the guy- er, frog! Plus, he’d been randomly murdered by a person too! 

Aimsey made sure to remember the name of the person who’d decapitated him- Sapnap. They’d heard of him before, so he must’ve been relatively famous on the server. Which meant that it probably wouldn’t be a great idea to run into the guy while Aimsey was still the new kid. 

Didn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side for no reason. 

As they were on the topic of murderers (of course that was the main topic) and getting murdered by said murderers, Boomer blabbers something about learning to exorcise ghosts. 

“...You’re saying you can talk to the dead?” Aimsey asks, turning to face the taller, wide-eyed. 

“Something like that,” Boomer shrugs nonchalantly. 

They could talk to the dead. 

Not just a ghost like Boo who showed up whenever he pleased, but the dead as a collective- as Boomer pleased. 

Aimsey’s heartbeat begins to pick up pace. 

Talk to the dead. 

The ghost of oddly bright, black eyes narrowed in laughter snakes its way into their mind. 

Their stomach churns. 

“I may take you up on that offer soon. When I'm feeling lonely.” 

When you’re feeling lonely.  

Loneliness didn’t seem to matter when I was feeling it, did it?  

Aimsey lurches forward as their gut does the same, lighting Ponk’s lemon tree on fire. Boomer gives them a grin, striking his own flint and steel, watching as the brown bark quickly catches on fire- bright, orange reflecting in their eyes. 

Was she still there? 

Back in the lava-lit quartz pocket of hers in the side of the hill? 

Would they still be visiting the town-hall, talking to the air, waving their goodbyes to figments of the past? 

Or would they have gone home- one of the myriads of portals they’d made, finally lighting up with a glow not unlike the raging fire that burned before Aimsey’s eyes right now? 

“Was this a mistake? Should we have done this?” 

They weren’t too sure if their question was aimed at Boomer or themself. 

What is your name? 

Name? It’s been far too long- I may have forgotten. 

What is your name? 

What use is a name, when there is no one to call it? 

What is your name? 

There was a name, once. Many, in fact, all belonging to different people. 

What is your name? 

They weren’t particularly close friends, these people, no, they were strangers in the beginning. 

What is your name? 

They didn’t seem to fit together in any shape or form. 

What is your name? 

But that was the beauty of it. 

What is your name? 

A place anyone could belong. 

What is your name? 

A grumpy old bear, who’d seen far too much, too many times and hated everything and everyone. 

What is your name? 

A soft-spoken angel. 

What is your name? 

A masked man who was clearly a squid. 

What is your name? 

A lost skeleton full of mischief.  

What is your name? 

A survivor from a far-off land full of war and sadness. 

What is your name?  

A fairy who lost her wings. 

What is your name? 

A deerling who’d forgotten the warmth of companionship. 

What is your name? 

A ghost who spoke in music notes. 

What is your name? 

A human person. An adventurer, a knight. One who’d swore to protect, to love. With brown hair and brown eyes, a loud voice that shook when they were nervous, but was still strong and full of determination. An impish sort of mischief in their eyes, which could soften to tender fondness for the people they love. 

What is your name? 

Along with many others. 

What is your name? 

Name? 

What is your name? 

What is your name? 

I have no name. 

The confidence with which Aimsey had reassured Rockie-Talkie that nothing was wrong and that everything was fine vanished faster than Boo whenever Tubbo happened to be within a 10-mile radius of him. 

Their house and café, were gone. 

Poof. 

Into thin air. 

Or ashes, by the looks of it. 

That wasn’t even the worst part- their llama Nellie was nowhere to be found. 

There was no indication that the llama had been killed, but a treacherous little voice in Aimsey’s mind whispered snidely of death and suffering. 

This SMP had a life system, didn’t it? Surely that would apply to pets too. 

“Nellie!” Aimsey calls out desperately. “Nellie, where are you girl?” 

Wandering about the site of the incident, they hear a rather disgruntled bleat that definitely sounded like a llama. 

“Nellie?” they yell, hopeful. 

Another, more irritated cry rings out. 

A few steps away stands Nellie the llama, looking extremely ruffled, but nevertheless alive. 

“NELLIE!” AImsey launches themself at the animal, who lets out something like a rumble. “I’m so glad you’re okay! I was so worried!” 

Were you this worried about me?  

The llama huffs and perks her ears up, alert. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s alright, I’m here now- no harm will come to you,” Aimsey soothens, stroking the llama’s neck. 

Nellie continues to look around, craning her neck once she seems to spot something in the distance. 

“Hey, Nellie, what’s wrong? Is someone coming?” 

Aimsey whips their head around, long brown hair almost hitting their pet in the face as they do so. 

In the distance, a blonde figure wearing something purple approaches them. It looks like Purpled, another member of the SMP. Aimsey tenses. From what they’d managed to piece together, the guy wasn’t too keen on talking things out and rumour had it that he’d do anything for the right price. 

They aren’t too sure if Ponk, Seepeakay or Captain Puffy were wealthy enough to hire a mercenary to do their bidding for them, but Tubbo, on the other hand, seems wealthy enough to maintain his huge mansion and Stars know what else. Or, at least his ex-husband was. 

“Hello? Purpled?” Aimsey begins. “I don’t know who asked you to do this, man, but look- you've already destroyed my- my house and almost killed Nellie, I think you’ve done enough.” 

The figure continues to head their way. 

Was Purpled’s hair that long? 

“Purpled?” 

The person’s face looks clearer now. 

“Pur... pled?” 

Their face. 

Aimsey could never forget that face. 

Their heart drops, ice-cold and still, just like the person in front of them should be. 

“Guqqie?” Aimsey manages to choke out, chest tight. 

There she stands, all of Aimsey’s joys and regrets- very much alive and breathing. Their cheeks are flushed pink, black eyes reflecting the stars they yearned for so much, both arms clutching a flimsy wooden sword they hold in front of themself defensively. Guqqie stares back at Aimsey, mirroring their surprise. 

“Guqqie?” Aimsey repeats, remembering how to breath- everything rushing back all at once. “H-how-” 

“Hello!” Guqqie smiles, eyes narrowing. “You know my name!” 

“I- Of course I know your name!” 

“Oh,” Guqqie blinks, looking surprised. “I didn’t know this SMP has such a system!” 

“What?” it’s the brunette’s turn to look confused. 

“Sorry, I’m new here and I don’t know how things work,” Guqqie looks sheepish. 

“Wh- how did you even get here?” Aimsey asks desperately, searching their once-friend's face for any giveaway that this might be a prank or a dream. 

“I sort of... crash landed? My ship-” the blonde gestures. “-fell a bit further away. I’ve been walking around for ages and didn’t see a soul- except for these strange creatures who tried to attack me, so I made a weapon!” She brandishes the wooden sword she’d been holding proudly. 

Aimsey takes a step back. 

“You- do- do you not remember me?” 

Guqqie tilts their head to the side, confused. 

“Am I supposed to remember you?” 

The pit in Aimsey’s stomach grows to an endless void. 

“If-” they cut themself off, holding tears back. “Guqqie if this is meant to be some sort of revenge, just stop it.” 

The alien looks bewildered. 

“R-revenge? I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” they shake their head. “Have you mistaken me for someone else?” 

“No! No, I know- I know you, I- I- could never forget you, I know who you are,” Aimsey stumbles forward, hands reaching out for the blonde who shifts cautiously out of their reach. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are.” 

And Aimsey breaks. 

But the questions don’t stop. 

No matter how many answers she gives. 

What colour is your hair? 

Perhaps it was honey, like the colour wheat swaying in the light of the lanterns. 

What colour is your hair? 

Or maybe pale, shining yellow of the stars in the night sky. 

What colour is your hair? 

A shade of gold, like the circular floret of an oxeye daisy. 

What colour is your hair? 

Yellow, like the sun blaring down almost mockingly. 

What colour is your hair? 

Yellow, like the rotting teeth. 

What colour is your hair? 

I have no hair. 

Most hesitantly, Aimsey lets themself be helped up by the imposter who wore their friend's face. Once they’ve calmed down a bit, they sit on the makeshift white bed under the night sky, and study the person’s face. Aimsey is hit with a nauseating wave of nostalgia as they take in her appearance. They look identical. 

The brunette listens silently, as not-Guqqie rambles about the places they saw once they’d freed herself from the wreckage, still in shocked disbelief. 

Who was this person? 

Was this their Guqqie, back from the dead, wiped of all memories? 

Or were they just pretending, and plotting their revenge for what they felt AImsey had done to them? 

Was this a completely different person, who had no idea what had happened to Guqqie? A relative, perhaps, a twin?  

A clone? 

A malicious spirit? 

Aimsey says nothing. 

What colour are your eyes? 

Black, like the void of space. 

What colour are your eyes? 

Black, like the darkness that consumes when you hit the ground. 

What colour are your eyes? 

I have no eyes. 

Over the next few days Guqqie-not-Guqqie insists on staying with Aimsey every waking hour (the brunette supposes it’s because she feels guilty). 

( Why should I be the guilty one? ) 

They look so alive, and happy- talking with such a carefree manner, Aimsey hadn’t seen them like this in so long. 

Despite being eager to get to know other people, Guqqie-not-Guqqie sticks close to the shorter human. 

“I’ll be your knight in shining armour!” they’d declared, excited. 

( You promised to protect me. ) 

Aimsey says nothing. 

Are you lying again? 

I was never the one who lied. 

Are you lying again? 

No. 

Not-quite-Guqqie gets along well with Boo (ironically). The ghost had started to visit both of them more often when he’d found out Aimsey’s house had been destroyed (he felt guilty). The brunette supposes he’d taken their silence as anger directed towards him and Tubbo, although Aimsey didn’t hold either of them at fault (did they?). 

Their blonde alien friend tries her hardest to lift their spirits, but the shorter can only stumble their way to a new place to build a home for them. 

Do you exist? 

Maybe. Once. 

Do you exist? 

No. 

“What’s that?” Guqqie asks, tilting their head as they always do when they’re curious. 

“A memory,” Aimsey simply replies, taking a step back to look at the grave. 

A pink tulip sways in the wind nearby. 

How? 

How? 

Aimsey groans as they spot Guqqie hard at work in their humble wheat farm. 

“You!” they yell. “How many times have I told you not to touch the wheat field?” 

“Sorry!” comes the reply. “It’s just that I feel guilty when I see you work alone, and want to help!” 

“You’ll be helping more if you just stay away from it,” Aimsey shouts back, sighing. “I’m coming over there, just give me a sec.” 

Guqqie throws them a thumbs up, grinning from below hair that’s just a shade lighter than the tall plants around her. 

A stranger invites you in. You don’t know this person and have only heard negative things about them. What do you do? 

Go inside. 

“Nice place you’ve got here,” comes a voice. 

The brunette whirls around, only to come face-to-face with an unpleasantly familiar face. 

“Tubbo,” Aimsey’s voice is clipped. “What brings you here?” 

The horned boy hums, eyes sweeping over their house behind them. 

“Your strange little friend invited me over,” he says. “I can see you’re doing well for yourself, with your own house.” 

The shorter grits their teeth. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” 

Tubbo stares at them with an unreadable expression, before shrugging and holding his hands up placatingly. 

“Okay man, whatever you say.” 

He turns to leave. 

“Do you still love him? Ranboo?” Aimsey find themself asking before they can stop. 

Tubbo pauses, and looks back at them. 

“Silly Aimsey! You can’t love a dead thing.” 

With that he disappears through the trees. 

You are starving. Your only choice of food is a freshly cooked meal or a rotting piece of meat from an unknown source. What do you eat?  

Rotting meat. 

Aimsey wipes their brow with their wrist, bits of dirt falling onto their hair. The sun was shining above them in the sky, hot and blinding as they crouched amidst the flowers. A moment of respite comes in the shape of a person standing directly behind them. They didn’t have to glance back to know who it was. 

“I hope you get into trouble with anyone Guqqie,” Aimsey lectures, poking around the dirt with their gloved hand. “I just managed to convince Ponk not to burn down Daisy Hollow, you know how hard we’re working on it.” 

Guqqie remains silent for a moment, and Aimsey can imagine them pouting like a child. Then, they speak up. 

“Why are you planting so many of them?” 

The alien’s voice sounds... hollow. 

For some reason, Aimsey feels the hairs on the back of their neck prickle, and a cold dread settles in their bones. They freeze, heartbeat picking up pace- something in the back of their mind screams to not turn around. 

“T-these?” Aimsey gestures to the multitudes of pink tulips surrounding them. “I just... like them. I’m planting them ‘cause I can, I mean, if I've got the choice why not take it right?” They tried not to let the fear in their voice show, joking lightly. 

It sounded fake even to their own ears. 

“Really?” Guqqie quips, and Aimsey feels their head lower until it’s right next to their own. Slowly, the brunette shifts their gaze to their friend’s face. She looks the same as always, dark eyes burning with wonder and life. 

(So why had Aimsey been expecting a grotesque, gaping void instead?) 

“I like them too,” the blonde says, turning to smile at them softly. 

And oh, how brightly she shone under the rays of the sun, so very full of love and life. 

Maybe, someday, Aimsey could join them. 

Are you still lying?  

No. 

“Aimsey.” 

There is someone whispering in their ear. The brunette sits up in their bed, eyes still half-closed with grogginess and mutters a sleepy, “Who?” 

“It’s me.” 

Two faded eyes peer back at them in the darkness. One red, one green. 

“Boo?” Aimsey rubs their eyes. “What’s up?” They ask, yawning. 

“Nothing, I was just checking on you since I haven’t seen you around in like, days, man.” 

“Hm? I was building and stuff, taking care of the farm and garden and all that. I don’t expect you to understand, with you being dead and all.” 

Boo doesn’t answer, just looking back at the grumpy human with an unknowable expression. 

Stars, Aimsey could figure out why him and Tubbo had gotten married, those two were like peas in a pod. 

The tall ghost steps back and phases out of vision. 

“Prick,” Aimsey mutters, and tries to fall back asleep. 

You are drowning in water. You don’t know how deep you are. What do you do?  

Wait to die. 

“You know, I was thinking,” Guqqie begins, stabbing their potato with a fork. “Should I try to go back home?” 

Aimsey pauses mid-bite, appetite now gone. 

What? 

“What?” they manage to spit out. 

“I was just wondering if it’d be worth a try, what do you think Aims?” she tilts her head at the human. 

“I- I-” Aimsey stammers, anxiety pooling in their chest. Their lungs feel like they’re slowly filling up with water. 

“Hey, Aims? Woah, woah, woah, breathe.” 

Their head feels like it’s under water, Guqqie’s worried voice distorted and unclear. 

( Fun fact- did you know, that the average time a human can survive for underwater is 90 seconds? ) 

They feel warm hands on their shoulders, seemingly dragging them back up and out. 

“Aims? Aimsey? Can you hear me, love?” 

Gasping, they nod. 

“Okay, okay, good- try to breathe with me, okay? In, and out- just like that, in, and out.” 

Aimsey breathes. 

You get attacked by someone stronger than you. What do you do to survive?  

Don't fight back and black out. 

Ever since Guqqie expressed interest in finding a way back home, Aimsey hasn’t been able to sleep properly. They keep waking up in the middle of the night, sneaking into the blonde alien’s room; they know it’s creepy and invasive, but the mental image of an emaciated, sickly shell of a person with a missing arm is all that they can think of. 

Brown eyes desperately rake over a lump that snores contentedly from under a purple blanket. They breathe a sigh of relief. 

Everything is fine. 

It is getting dark outside. There is a safe inn that will allow you to stay the night or a dark forest that has strange noises emerging from it. Where do you go?  

Forest. 

The next scare comes when Guqqie innocently asks, “What happened to the person you knew who looked like me?” 

Aimsey drops the sword they were carefully sharpening with a clatter. 

“Careful!” the blonde cries, rushing over to them. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” Aimsey mumbles, eyes cloudy. “No, I’m okay. I’ll just- I'm going for a walk.” 

“Aims?” 

The brunette ignores Guqqie’s call. 

“Aims! Aimsey!” 

They wander past Daisy Hollow’s spruce walls. 

“Aimsey! Come back!” 

The alien’s please fall on deaf ears. 

A stranger approaches you with an offer that will change your life but ruin the life of someone who calls you a friend. Do you take the offer?  

No. 

“Aimsey? Is that you?” 

Aimsey startles, whirling around with eyes blown wide. They raise their sword defensively. 

“Woah dude, chill out- it's just me.” 

Boomer jumps back, arms up in the air. 

“Boomer,” the brunette acknowledges, not lowing their sword. “What do you want?” 

“Can’t a frog just come pay his friend a visit? Especially since he hasn’t seen that friend in a good couple of weeks,” he says, sounding concerned. “Is everything okay? You don’t look so hot.” 

“I’m fine,” Aimsey snaps. “So you can leave now.” 

“Jeez, so cold,” Boomer rubs the back of their neck. “Whachu been up to man?” 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” 

“Okay, okay, chill, I got it. Hey, I heard you got yourself a roommate, apparently she’s pretty well known around the SMP now, real helpful and nice and stuff.” 

What? Guqqie had been going around talking to random people? How many times would Aimsey have to warn them not to just talk to strangers, especially since the members of this server seemed so keen on just murdering people for no reason? 

“Thanks for telling me, Boomer,” Aimsey draws a step closer to the taller. 

“Yeah, no problem dude,” he chirps. 

“Now fuck off.” 

The brunette presses the sword against his throat. Boomer sputters, eyes widening in fear. He opens his mouth to say something, but Aimsey cuts him off. 

“I really don’t want to have to clean this blade again Boomer,” they warn. 

Boomer stares at them with a broken expression for a few seconds, and turns tail, running off into the distance. 

Do you feel safe?  

Yes. 

“FUCK,” Aimsey cries as they fall flat on their face in the middle of the wheat field. 

Their leg that had healed incorrectly after Tubbo had pushed them off the bridge those few months ago had started giving them more trouble than usual. Now, it seemed to have completely given up. 

“Aimsey!” 

The brunette hears Guqqie’s cry coming from their treehouse, and watches as dirt and wheat spray with the alien’s rushed steps. 

“Aimsey,” the blonde gasps, now on their knees beside the human. “Aimsey what’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

All the brunette can do was groan in reply, trying- and failing, to prop themself up on their arm. 

“Aims!” 

“I’m fine,” Aimsey coughs. “I’m fine, just- just help me up will you?” 

The two struggle up on their feet, the brunette leaning almost completely on their friend. Guqqie’s face is contorted into a frown- eyes welled up with worry. 

“Aimsey,” she repeats softly, clutching them close to her. “Let’s sit you down, alright?” 

The two hobble over to their house, the alien practically dragging Aimsey to their bed. They sit down with a huff, and Guqqie hurries to get them a glass of water. 

“Here,” she gently eases it into the brunette’s hand.  

“Thanks.” 

Guqqie takes the now-empty glass from Aimsey’s hands, lips pursed. They crouch next to them. 

“Aims,” they take the other’s hands in their own. “I’m worried about you, Aims, it’s been almost two weeks now and you haven’t let me help you with anything- your leg has been paining you and it’s only getting worse.” 

“I’m fine, it just... healed wrong. I’ll get it fixed.” 

The blonde says nothing, instead standing up and giving Aimsey a one-over before seemingly coming to a conclusion in their mind. 

“I know you told me not to wander around the SMP- but this is not looking good. I’ll just pop in and grab a couple of healing potions from somewhere, I won't be too long, okay?” 

“What?” Aimsey immediately snaps their head up, and raises themself slightly. “No. Don’t go. Stay here.” 

Guqqie shakes her head. 

“I’m going to help you, okay? I can’t bear to see you like this.” 

“Guqqie. Guqqie, stay here. Don’t go. Please.” 

The alien gives them a pained look, and leaves their treehouse. 

No. 

No no no no no. 

Guqqie can’t leave. 

Not again. 

Weren’t you the one that left?  

Aimsey looks at their busted leg. 

Useless thing. 

It’ll have to go. 

You are in a room with a door and no other exits. What do you do?  

Run out of the door. 

Guqqie approaches Aimsey as they work- adding another layer of reinforcement to Daisy Hollow’s walls. The blonde had tried to convince them to stop, saying their home was starting to look like an ugly, grey bunker, but in Aimsey’s mind it’d be better to be safe than sorry. 

Especially with all those warmongers about. 

“Aims,” her voice sounds unusually serious. 

“Guqqie? What’s wrong? What happened?” They swivel around, staggering a bit. It would take some time before they were fully used to the prosthetic, but it was much better than hobbling around in pain. 

Now all Aimsey could focus on was the grave tone of Guqqie’s voice. Had something happened? Had someone tried to break in? 

“No, no,” the blonde rushes to reassure. “I just- I wanted to ask if you’d want to go somewhere together. I- I've prepared a surprise- I’ve been working on it for a while now.” 

“A surprise?” 

All of a sudden? What kind of surprise? Was Guqqie in danger? 

“A good one. You’ll love it, I’m sure.” 

“I don’t know, Guqs,” Aimsey begins, unsure. “Where is it? In Daisy Hollow?” 

“...no,” the taller looks a bit guilty. “But it’s not far from here! I promise!” 

The brunette narrows their eyes. They didn’t like the idea of putting either of them at risk. After all, they were the one responsible for protecting Guqqie. 

“Okay,” they say, after a moment of deliberation. “We’ll go there, together.” 

Guqqie looks relived and ecstatic. She launches herself at the other, jumping with excitement. 

“Yay! I can’t wait!” 

Aimsey cracks a small smile begrudgingly. 

Everything will be fine. 

?  

Die. 

“Guqqie, I don’t like this.” 

Aimsey feels the blonde’s hand give theirs a reassuring squeeze as they lead the former to the place with the so called “surprise”. They hate the fact that they can’t see her through the blindfold- especially since the sun was setting and mobs would soon try and attack them. 

“Relax, Aims. Do you trust me?” 

“I’m just worried Guqs.” 

“I know, I know, just a few more minutes.” 

Aimsey sighs, and lets themself be guided by the other. 

“Alright, just a few more steps and we should be good to go, okay?” 

“Fine.” 

The brunette finally feels Guqqie stop moving in front of them. 

“Okay, one second and-” 

A pair of warm hands tugs on the blindfold. 

“-ta-da!” 

Aimsey blinks. 

They’re high above the ground- below them are hundreds of trees, and buildings illuminating the night like the stars that shone above them. The warm glow of the lanterns made everything look unbelievably cosy. 

“Woah.” 

That was the only thing their brain can formulate, before they hear a giggle and feel Guqqie tug on their hand, momentarily pulling them away from the view. 

“Like it?” the blonde asks, eyes sparkling. 

“I- I love it,” Aimsey breathes, watching as the taller moves away for a second to slip a music disc into a jukebox. 

A familiar tune echoes. 

The alien turns, a wide grin plastered onto their face, and starts shimmying slightly with their eyes closed as the first notes ring out. 

“ You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life ,” 

Guqqie draws closer to Aimsey, taking their one of their hands in theirs, placing one of her own on their waist. 

“ See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the dancing queen ,” 

The brunette sways with the taller in stunned silence for a moment or two before bursting out in loud, unrestrained laughter. 

“ Friday night and the lights are low, looking out for the place to go ,” 

The blonde is smiling, singing along with the lyrics as though they’re second nature- not tearing their eyes away from the person in their arms. 

“ Where they play the right music, getting in the swing, you come in to look for a king ,” 

The human lets out a chuckle as the taller’s voice cracks trying to hit the last note. 

“ Anybody could be that guy, night is young and the music’s high ,” 

The alien draws out the last word comically, earning another laugh from the other. 

“ With a bit of rock music, everything is fine, you’re in the mood for dance ,” 

Aimsey closes their eyes, letting themselves go in the music. 

“ And when you get the chance ...” 

Guqqie releases the shorter’s hand from their grasp, placing her own on the other side of their hip and leans closer to their ear. 

“ You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen ,” 

“You remind me of someone I once loved before,” she whispers. 

The brunette stiffens. 

Did they hear that right? 

“The stars always remind me of you,” Guqqie continues, murmuring sweet poison into Aimsey’s ear. “And how brightly you shine, my love.” 

“G-Guqqie?” comes the brunette’s voice- small and trembling. 

“You left me.” 

No. 

No, this wasn’t their Guqqie, their Guqqie would’ve screamed, cried, hit them the moment they saw each other. 

“Oh, love,” the alien sounds almost amused, as if reading Aimsey’s mind. “Your Guqqie is long-dead.” 

The human feels sick. They can feel the nausea bubbling revoltingly up their throat. 

“I’m just what’s left.” 

“No,” they mutter. “No, no, Guqqie isn’t dead! They’re- they’re just throwing a tantrum, she- she'll move on ev-eventually and- and we’ll meet ou-outside the BearSMP, I- I-” 

“Do you remember the tower I built?” 

“No, no, no, no, no-” 

“This place look familiar to you?” 

“No, no, NO- Guqqie- Guqqie would never-” 

“I died , Aimsey.” 

“SHUT UP, shut up, shut the fuck up-” 

“I jumped. Because everyone left. YOU left.” 

“I- I-” 

“I had nothing. You were all I had. And you took everything away from me.” 

“No, no, no-” Aimsey was sobbing hysterically at this point. 

“So now,” Guqqie’s face is blank. “I’ll take everything away from you.” 

All Aimsey can do is watch. 

“I hope you ever cared for me.” 

Why can’t they move? 

“The sky really is always so beautiful from up here.” 

The sun begins to filter slowly through the clouds. 

“Thank you for coming Aimsey, and I hope you have a wonderful life,” Guqqie says. 

Guqqie smiles. 

Guqqie jumps. 

They hurt you, didn’t they?  

They hurt me too.  

Let me give you another chance.