Intruder

by youpcup

Summary:

check tags pls

basically a what if, where the eyes on Z’s hat is an entity that slowly corrupts him

Chapter 1: Koalas have fingerprints

The house flooded with aggressive, echoing coughs and sounds of jester shoes slipping on the fancy, pearly white floor. Reject sneezed, coughed and shrieked at the same time, about to hit a full real-life screenshot combo. Moe, seemingly upset, slipped with her body pressed against the floor, head-hitting it.

 

Darn it, maybe they should’ve had listened to Z when he said that it would be better for Reject not to touch Monella’s greasepaint. After all, there’s a reason why Z is always the one doing it for her.

 

“OW !!! shit- shit- m- moe ???? MOE ARE YOU OK ?????? holy shit-“ — Reject coughed the powdery substance off his.. non-existent mouth. Damn this guy is dramatic.

 

Moe left out a sad honk.

 

The place was crashed — like, crash crashed. Or not. I dunno on what scale of crash are we rating this, but it was certainly something to deal with. Especially before Z comes back from the mines, and sees all of this mess.

 

Last time when Z was in the caves for longer than 30 minutes, he came back to a view of all windows being barricaded by, somehow, bedrock, the walls having rabbit mean hanging on them, Moe shivering under the table because for some reason the house was flooded with snow (like, dude??? It’s November????), and Reject himself ran around, shouting that ‘the agent is here’, and they’re all doomed. Also there was some random well in the bathroom, and a back, smiley figure peeking out of it.

 

Z was mad, because after that the bathroom exploded and all his items fell in the well. And, I mean, there was no way he’s jumping there to get them back, so all of the efforts to get those 5 diamonds were a waste.

 

And now, the house was coloured in rainbow powder, and they had.. approx 5 minutes to clean this mess up. Also, the addition to the chaos was that Moe’s brilliant collection of water bottles broke, and messed up all of the greasepaint together, getting all sticky and quickly drying — and that stuff is dead hard to get off once it’s dry.

 

Plus, Moe was extremely miserable by her collections getting destroyed.

 

“Oh- uh- shit, shit. I’m cooked, okay, uh- eugggh.” — Rej stood up shakily, rushing to Monella. — “Mo- Moe- okay, umm, we’ll fix this, ‘kay?? And I uhh.. will get you as much new water bottles as you like, just, um- don’t cry-!”

 

Reject awkwardly consoled Moe, giving her head pats and trying to help her stand up, yet the clown was just looking at the floor with her face down, her hair almost deflating and falling below her shoulders, downwards to her collar.

 

A small, quiet honk broke through the silence, and the entity sighed with slight relief.

 

“Okay, um- you sit there, I’ll just clean this up before Z comes. Okay? Okay…”

 

Moe was sat on the couch further away - pearly white, just like the whole interior. It hadn’t been affected by the rainbow powder in the air, but the surfaces around it surely had.

 

Reject slid through the house, desperately searching for something that could help to clean that horrendous colourful puke up and make their living room look like something beside a unicorn crime scene.

 

Okay, what do people normally use for clean ups? What does Z normally use whenever Reject and Moe cause a mess?? Probably water, yeah? Okay. A bucket of water. Maybe some cleaning substance, like a spray or some powdery thing. But there’s enough powder around there anyway, so a spray would fit better, if they even have one. Something to rub with? A towel, or a shred of some cloth, maybe a rag.

 

Reject genuinely has no idea. Usually, if there are any actual damages to the house, he just builds them over and fixes it. Z is always the one who fixes minor inconveniences like these, mostly because 80% when there’s a mess, Moe and Reject sit in a corner, guilty as hell.

 

The entity teleported to the kitchen - opening every chest or barrel. Carrots, a few stakes, a stack of cobblestone, some raw meat, one single golden apple and a half-broken fishing rod, some random entity that just started living in their fridge. Also, a spray bottle. Okay, nothing significant..

 

Oh.

 

A spray bottle?

 

Reject shook the bottle next to his ear, hearing the liquid inside it hit against the vessel’s surfaces. Well, there’s something in there. Hopefully something that can wash off stuff.

 

THEN A SKELETON RUNS BY and reject is like “Omg fridgentity did u just see that” and fridgentity is like “glabaglabadu” and like wow uh

 

Sorry I’m kinda running out of ideas You see what I did there Running Like the skeleton running Isn’t that cool No? Ok I’ll shut up sorry Guess I’ll die

 

He grabbed the spray under his arm, teleporting to a different room. Z’s bedroom. He doesn’t really sleep nor stay here, though. The sheets on the bed are untouched, yet the chests are flooded with stuff, mostly rubbish that the protagonist lacks a need of. So, overtime, Reject stopped calling it a bedroom, more like a storage room.

 

Or a bit garbage can, however you call it. The entity searched for a mop, brush, rag or cloth. Anything you can scrub with, genuinely. The only cloth that he could find though was Z’s shirt, the one that he wears the least amount of the time. Sure, he wouldn’t even notice if it was gone, right?

 

Reject grabbed the clothing from the crafting table it was laying on, almost getting dusty now from its longtime placement there. Alright, that’s.. two outta the checklist!

 

One more teleport - now, the bathroom. A pretty obvious place to look for a bucket of water in. Reject looked around, spotting the well against the wall. Huh, weird. He thought that Z took down and barricaded it. Maybe he can ask the guy in the well for water though! Yeah, that makes sense.

 

“Hey dude, do you like, uh, have water down there?” — Rej looked down the well, only to notice an unsettling smile peeking up at him.

 

The entity’s eyes glowed white in the complete darkness of the well. — “WHY DON’T YOU COME DOWN HERE AND LOOK FOR YOURSELF?”

 

“Look man, I don’t have time for this shit right now, ‘kay? Our tap is broken cause of those pirates breaking into our house on Thursday, and I could really use some water right now. Just- just gimme it.”

 

“OKAY. THEN TELEPORT IN AND I’LL GIVE YOU IT.”

 

“I can’t teleport.”

 

“YOU- YOU JUST DID THOUGH.”

 

“I dunno what you’re talking about.”

 

“…YOU DISAPPOINT ME. WHAT A FAILURE OF AN ANTAGONIST.”

 

Well, there’s a reason they call him ‘Rejected’. The entity upwards just wanted to argue and prove the drowned guy wrong, but before he could, a bucket of water flied up from the well, Rej’s arms quickly grabbing it. — “Thanks man. Next time, choose someone else to call on the well.”

 

“I’LL CONSIDER IT.”

 

Rejected teleported back to the living room, glancing up at Moe holding a couple of glass shreds in her hands, probably from the broken water bottles. The sight was almost painful to watch.

 

With Moe’s expression still miserable and shattered, Reject started to clean that mess like a bloody housewife. Wow why did I just turn British halfway there wow

 

Reject held into his knockoff cleaning equipment. Not really good, not gonna lie, disappointing, even. Yet, that’ll do. Now, scrub that greasepaint, boy!

 

“Eighguguhh.. jeez. And you wear that on daily? Damn. How does Z even wash that thing off..” — Reject mumbled. The makeup has kind of washed off the floor, leaving some seemingly non-washable spots behind. He sighed.

 

A minute or two passed. Maybe twenty. I don’t really know, I can’t count past three.

 

Reject has washed off a good half of the mess, tripping and spilling a bucket of water on himself while sliding down the wet floor, dramatically face-planting (not sure how, since there’s not face.) the cold tiles. That was kinda funny, so Moe’s mood was a bit lit up by that.

 

Now, all that Reject had to do was to clear up evidence of anything happening and throw away the impossible to fix carpet, then replace it, and Z would never know!

 

“Hey, I did a pretty good job here!” — Reject rested his arm against the couch, standing next to Moe. She honked with a smile, her makeup still slightly wonky. — “Really. Z won’t even guess that we crashed this place, like, seriously, hello, he won’t even suspect any-“

 

The door shrieked open. Z stepped in, slouching and quietly groaning, his breathing tempo uneven and slightly concerning, clearly struggling to stand still. But for all that Reject and Moe knew, that they were now cooked.

 

“Oops.”

 

Z stepped in, throwing a tired glance at the two. Reject was hiding behind a plant, some random fern, very visibly, and Moe was nowhere to be seen. Well, then she was - running in the window, then somehow falling through the ceiling. Z’s expression wasn’t even mad or confused like it was expected to be like.

 

“Oh, uh.. um.” — Z couldn’t seem to say anything, his tone slightly unbothered, yet mostly tired and dizzy. — “You- you, uh.. scattered Moe’s greasepaint.”

 

It took him a while to blink or say anything after a pregnant pause. Reject tension slightly vanished, turning into confusion. Monella continued laying on the floor around some bits and scraps of the broken ceiling surrounding her.

 

A good minute of silence passed. Z seemed to say nothing, just observe everything tiredly with heavy lids, glancing from Reject to Moe, who now was sitting on the floor, dusting herself. Rej awkwardly looked around - what has gotten into this guy?

 

Slouched like a shrimp, Z finally snapped out of his zone-out, blinking slowly. — “Oh, um… shit- There, uh.. should be acetone in the fridge or something, try- try to use that. I’ll go take a nap, I have a.. migraine… I think-”

 

With a zombie walk, the protagonist left the room. Reject stepped out of his perfect hiding spot and Moe stood up next to him, both confused. You know things are bad when Z doesn’t even walk away angrily mumbling that he hates Reject, freaking hates him.

 

“Gee, what has gotten into that guy?”

 

Moe honked twice, concerned.

Chapter 2: Z, Reject and Moe are like a love triangle but replace love with mental illness. They’re like a mental illness triangle.

Summary:

Reject needs to become more responsible and quit gambling. Moe is amazing. Z is dying. Cool summary am I right lads

Notes:

sorry sORRY SORRRYYY IFORGOT ABOUT THIS SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG
i really poured my soul in this though

The storage room door creaked open, slowly, a small amount of light filling the pure dark space, yet even that made the patient in it softly groan.

 

“Eugggh… close the door,” — A familiar, tired voice came out from the pits of the room. Reject couldn’t really see anything, but he knew that Z was somewhere there. — “The light hurts my eyes.”

 

And suddenly, the bedroom that was meant for Z actually starts to look like one. Reject closed the door behind him, leaving the light away as the room once again was left in darkness only.

 

“What do you want.” — It was not much of a question, more like a statement. Z tried to sound annoyed, but the exhaustion was overtaking so all that came out was a bark with no bite. Also I know that no one is actually reading the actions so I wanna complain that I’m in a car right now and my eyes are hurting like they hurt so much I wanna cry but they hurt from crying at the first place so I can’t really do that uh

 

Reject seemed to wave his hands around blindly to try and find something solid with his hands, ending up sitting on a crafting table near the protagonist’s crashed bed. — “Feeling any better, dude?”

 

“Does it look like it? Dumbass.”

 

“OBVIOUSLY NOT ??? How do you even expect me to see shit here ???”

 

“Y— You- ugh. Kill yourself.” — Z sighed. Reject rolled his non-existent eyes. Or at least it felt like it. — “Anyways,” — The protagonist seemed to look up, noticing something warm radiating next to his face, the stem (is that the word ??? idk bro eng is not my first language) from it leaving the window nearby slightly blurry. — “Wuzzat?”

 

“Stew.”

 

“Why ??? It’s a migraine, not a cold.”

 

“Yeah ?? Yeah ???? Your ‘migraine’ have been continuing for a week now.”

 

Z would’ve raised an eyebrow right now, but his head was cracking open so much even his forehead felt flayed. Also, the entity wouldn’t see it anyway. — “And?”

 

“You sound like a dying eagle, man. Not that there’s a difference between it and how you usually sound,” — At this point, Rej could feel Z silently grumble from his words. — “But I thought this could help.”

 

“I—“ — Z froze. This is.. suspiciously nice. Bitterly sweet, actually, especially coming from Reject. The same guy who cheered him by saying to die in a pit and intentionally made him visit a cursed IKEA. Yeah. And now the same Reject is crafting for him when he’s sick, like this is a rom-com. Weird.

 

“…I’m not eating that.”

 

“???WH ????Y ????BRO I MADE IT FOR YOU CHOKE ON IT UNGRATEFUL ASSHOLE”

 

“It smells terrible. I don’t- I don’t think that’s edible.”

 

“Everything is edible!” — Reject objected. — “Just, sometimes, for once.”

 

“EXACTLY! ARE YOU TRYNA MAKE ME FEEL BETTER OR POISON ME???!!!!”

 

“CAN YOU NOT. YELL AT ME ?!?!”

 

“SHUT UP !!!!!!”

 

A moment of silence hanged on the pure darkness. Oh my god the moment killed itself

Z sighed after a minute of uncomfortable lack of sound in the room, almost as if the world stopped breathing. — “Alright. Let me try it.”

 

The protagonist felt a hot bowl being placed on his hand, but not hot enough to burn or leave a mark. He was quiet for a second, then, seemed to look up at the entity like he was the dumbest creature around, debating either not to ask if Reject have ever considered reproducing. Wait. How would he even do that? He- he doesn’t have nuts, right?

 

…Okay. Z is definitely using “nutless” as an adjective to describe Rej later.

 

“Where’s the spoon?” — A metallic spoon was yanked at Z’s face with maximum strength, hitting against his forehead, sliding down his nose and falling onto the bottom of the bowl. Z remained unfazed.

 

As the spoon drowned in the substance, which, now, was the only thing Z could describe it, as a stew cannot sizzle and dissolve a fucking spoon in it, Reject coughed. Awkwardly, not deciding to question how did the oily liquid not melt the bowl itself.

 

“It’s acid, isn’t it.”

 

“Yeah, it’s aci- D- Well- COME ON !!! Me and Moe tried so hard to cook something for you!” — The antagonist snapped, justifying himself once again. Z’s expression seemed to soften after a mention of Monella, yet it was unnoticeable due to the gloom around them. — “And- and somehow you cooked- sulfuric acid. Right. Sure.”

 

“Oh? Oh ?? Oh ??? Shut up. It’s not our fault! Blame Fridgentity! It- it said it was gonna add spiciness, ‘kay? How was I supposed to know it was- I dunno- H2SO4 ????”

 

“You actually know the formula?… Wait- Why the hell does Fridgentity posses a chemical?? Isn’t that like.. a health hazard or some shit?”

 

“Blocks and shit. We’re in fucking Minecraft, Z! You install a mod and you get whatever weed you want!”

 

“Dude. Acids are not weed, as far as I know.”

 

“Shut- shut up. Shut your up.” — Reject felt Z silently snickering. — “Shut your up ❤️”

 

The entity stood in silence again, listening to the substance in the bowl sizzle and boil more as Z’s grip around the vessel tightened. The protagonist sat up a little, him kind of ripped blanket slightly rolling down from his torso on his feet.

 

“So, are you gonna eat that, or-“

 

“Fuck no.”

 

Reject yanked the bowl from Z’s hand and yeeted it into the window, following with a loud glass crash, which made Z’s head hurt even more, and a yell from down there, which made the two a little dumbfounded. The entity, without a word, just closed the window with dirt blocks. Not their problem, let the guy get severe burns and dermatitis.

 

“…How did you even craft that thing?” — Z finally spoke up after a while of silence. Based on the soft thump against the wall, the protagonist could assume that Reject had leaned against it. — “Oh, we didn’t craft it, we cooked it, man.”

 

“Wh- how ??? We don’t have a, I dunno, a stove for that or whatever.”

 

“We have 7 furnaces though.”

 

“How does one cook a stew on a furnace?..”

 

“No clue,” — Reject shrugged. At this point, he questioned why he even bothered to make any movements, as his companion wouldn’t see any of them. But, charismatic bitches slap, so we persist. — “But we had a week to figure that out.”

 

A soft “hmm..” followed from Z’s lips. He was still curious, and the damn headache that made him face burn on fire and his neck stiff would not let him go to sleep anytime soon, anyways, so.. — “That doesn’t explain anything.”

 

“Oh, you want a bedtime story, huh?”

 

“Shut your up.” — Reject felt a pillow hit his non-existent face, which made him dramatically fall on the floor with a loud groan like he was the second tower itself. Z hissed. — “!!!! RESTRAIN THY TONGUE FOR ITS CEASELESS CHATTER DOTH DISTURB THE TRANQUILLITY OF THIS SACRED SPACE”

 

The protagonist sighed as he heard a stiffened screech, assuming that Reject has stood up and quieten himself. — “Soo.. you gonna explain, or what?”

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, basically-“

 

***

 

“Good move, Moe, good move… Damn, I didn’t know you can do that.”

 

Reject and Moe were playing chess, the clown pulling a checkmate over again, taking the entity’s figures off the game with an UNO card. She hit off a pawn from the board with a fling of fingers, slamming a +4 card flat on the surface instead, except the plus was scribbled with a black marker and written over with a minus on it. Just so conveniently, Reject had exactly 4 figures left on the board, which led Moe to another win.

 

She happily honked, winning effortlessly for the 14th time in a row. — “GODDAMN! How do you always do that?? Good game though. Could you teach me?” — Moe honked twice. Reject nodded. — “Huh. Okay, what’s you secret then?”

 

She honked again.

 

Reject’s unreal jaw opened as soon as such words of wisdom hit his, again, non-existent ears. And people still pay for Netflix.

 

He was about to express pure gratitude like he was just handed the Oscar itself, yet was interrupted by a muffled groan from upstairs. Moe looked up at the staircase in concern as she left out a deflated honk. — “Damn, he’s really not getting well, huh.” — Moe honked thrice as an answer. — “Yeah- yeah. I know.”

 

The two just stared at the stairs for a second, until Moe started honking. The antagonist turned his head towards her, listening to every thought she expressed, nodding understandingly. — “Huh. Yea, yeah. That’s a good idea. A stew could do. He has a migraine, not a cold, though.”

 

Monella honked sceptically. Reject nodded. — “True. A migraine, in fact, doesn’t last a week.” — His eyes (OKAY I KNOW HE HAS NONE BUT WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO SAhis gaze averted to the kitchen.

 

“Well, let’s get to it, then!” — The clown honked in excitement at her friend’s note. Hell yeah. Let them cook.

 

Currently, Reject was putting on a chef hat on his absent head. The toque disappeared as soon as he wore it. Maybe the chef hat was the friends we made along the way.

 

Moe was preheating a furnace, crashing out into the kitchen with a bunch of trash she found in the chests and barrels around the house. The ingredients in a dish don’t matter. What matters - is how much love is put in it. Which still makes it suck, but c’mon.

 

“Say,” — Reject turned to the clown, slightly showing off his cool apron, which had big letters on it - ‘Kiss The My Ass’. — “How are we even supposed to cook a stew?”

 

She shrugged with muffled honk, her expression unimpressed.

 

“Well, I guess, Google’s our assistant!” — The entity made finger guns, which was incredibly lame. He then coughed and left the kitchen to quickly search it up on his computer. — “BRB.”

 

He, in fact, did not come right back. It actually took him ages, half of an hour at least, as the living room was continuously crashed with yells and screams, and one singular shout coming from upstairs which carried a kind message, proposing Reject to shut the fuck up, since his roommate’s head did not tolerate loud noises loudly. That, of course, made the crashing out a little quieter.

 

The antagonist awkwardly walked back into the kitchen, holding an unplugged compute mouse and a crystal of a sort. — “Hey, soo.. cooking sites are lame. Like, really lame. And have a lot of ads. Gambling ads. And just advertisements. So, I, like, accidentally ended up buying a corrugated pipe and a full-moon charged crystal…” — He didn’t look up at the room, staring at the items in his hands for a lasting moment, which were delivered surprisingly quick. Well, no one wants refunds or people to change their minds, do they? — “So, Z’s kinda broke now… but my finger slipped, ‘kay? It like- jumped into the cart itself, it’s not my fault it’s— aaaaaand, you’re almost done.”

 

Reject finally looked up, seeing Moe having the kitchen right under control. She somehow got actual ingredients for a generally good stew. Monella was in the middle of cutting carrots and rolling the pieces down into the pot, which was somehow cooking in the furnace. Would be easier to just download a mod for a modern stove, but she’s making it work out anyways, so.. What’s the point?

 

The entity quietly approached her, standing and observing how she slid the chopped down vegetables into stewpot. — “Wow. You- you’re actually making it work. I thought you said that you didn’t know how to cook a stew.”

 

Moe honked a couple of times. Reject nodded, impressed. Then, snapping back from his stun, he proudly reached out to the clown and ruffled her hair, just enough to ruin her styling. Hair styling is very important for a jester, you know, Rej. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself.

 

Pretend this is a separator. I wanna like uhh timeskip but I can’t really cause this is a flashback and then it IT WOULD FEEL WRONG OK this is a separator tho like *** thing ok

Ok

 

After a few more minutes, the dish was complete. Surprisingly, it looked actually… eatable. Alright. Well, that’s a something. Now, all they needed was to degustate it. But, you know how it is. It’s not that Reject doesn’t believe in Moe’s cooking skills, but a little reassurance is always appreciated. So, they needed someone to taste it. Someone except them. The two shared a glance. Yeah, they have a candidate.

 

“Hey, Fridgentity.” — The antagonist opened the refrigerator open, seeing two black eyes perk up at him. — “We have something for you, dude.”

 

Without a word of explanation, Reject showed a spoon into its weirdly shaped mouth, making it try out the not-so-deadly-looking soup before him. Taking out the spoon, he raised an eyebrow, almost waiting for a comment.

 

“gleaggegaggleleggghhh…”

 

Reject sighed.

 

“Moe. Translate.”

 

Monella honked repeatedly, the sound making a pattern. She explained that Fridgentity comments the soup to be a little too bland, saying that it lacks spiciness and flavour. Reject scoffed in dissatisfaction. — “Well, then what?”

 

An icy hand raised from the fridge, holding a glass tube, the ones you’d see in a laboratory. Moe reached out and took the vessel, examining the liquid inside it. The antagonist, on the other hand, was still displeased. — “What’s that supposed to do, jackass?” — The Fridgentity groaned once again, explaining something unrecognisable for anyone’s ears. Reject silently turned to his companion. Honking, she explained that this could help to make the dish have a charm.

 

“glalaluggrabbhhhallrrrlllhh..” — It spoke up again. Moe turned to Reject, tearing her eyes from the substance in the tub, translating that Fridgentity commented that the place where Reject shoved the spoon in wasn’t it’s mouth, and that it asked if he wants to know what it was.

 

“WH— No, no.. I don’t- I don’t wanna know.”

 

***

 

Z looked at Reject up and down, unimpressed. — “Why’d ya stop?”

 

“Well, that’s it.”

 

“???HUH?? What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?? You just saw that the stew was now sizzling and went like- uh-“ — The protagonist started waving his hands around weakly, doing a very bad yet accurate impression of Rej. — “‘Oh yeah, this will do!’??”

 

“Yeah, actually, that’s exactly what I said.”

 

Even through it was dark as hell in the room, Reject could feel Z’s stare piercing his non-existent soul. Judgemental. That silence was speaking volumes, paragraphs of complaint, actually. Yet, it remained uncommented. Instead, Z just tiredly sighed, suddenly snapping in realisation.

 

“Wait- did you say you spent all my money on online shopping?!”

 

“WELLLLL I GOTTA GO !!! MOES PROLLY WAITING FOR ME HAHA BYE CYA LATER SUCKER” — Reject waved as he skeddadled outta the room, shutting the door behind him quickly, leaving Z shouting in the closed space about how much he hates the antagonist and wants him to brutally end his life. Bold of him to assume he has one.

 

In the dark, Z clenched onto his head. Gee. This shouting really didn’t help much with his headache, did it. Ouch. Hurts big time. He rubbed on his temples slightly, softly hissing with pain as a loud ring pierced his ears. He felt something gooey, almost sticky brush against his hand.

Notes:

if anyones curious Moe’s secret was “get gud”
what
oh
ok ill shut up

Z angst in the next chapter !!!!!! :D

Notes:

ILL MAKE ANOTHER CHAPTER I SWEAR