#hhhhhh...

[Punz centered]

The corrupted mercenary goes for a walk on the SMP to think about himself. After loosing track of time, a familiar voice keeps him company till dawn.

[Its about the whole “Punz has no gender” thing. Fluff, no angst]

[Oneshot starts here]

‘Punz, are you okay,’ the familiar voice cooed in his head, laced with concern.

The hooded blonde looked to the red vines that grew on his chain and around his neck, from an outsider’s point of view, it looked like he was being strangled. Candy red pupils that glistened in the light of the glowstone lampposts flickered around the area.

He rubbed the sleep from underneath his eyes, “Yeah, m’ fine, just confused.”

The growing vines responded, curling evermore at the gold, ‘What is on your mind, is it not quite late at night?’

“Oh, has time passed that quickly? I swear,” Punz looked at the moon, which was reaching for its peak in the noir sky, “it was only sunset just a bit ago…”

‘What’s on your mind?’

He grasped the trident in his hand, hopping into one of the nearby bodies of water and propelling himself away, towards a familiar blackstone and obsidian structure. Landing on one of the watchtowers of the vault, a sigh escaped his throat.

‘Must I repeat myself, Punzie?’

Pulling his hood down to feel the chilling snow, he chuckled, “Don’t call me that, please.”

‘Hmph, that helps me bring up my next question, I haven’t obtained your pronouns,’ Its voice was optimistic in the statement.

Upon the silence, the egg’s light humming suppressed. It felt a tang of regret.

‘I’m sorry, I know I’ve asked you before-- I just want you to feel comfortable when I speak to you or about you to your leader or his cat friend.’

Punz hunkered down with his legs crossed, a torch held in his left palm melted some of the encircling frosts, “I know what you mean, I just don’t really know how to answer the question because… I don’t really know, myself. I don’t know what gender I am and classifying as ‘they’ or ‘it’ seems like it doesn’t fit-- I don’t want to stand out, really.”

‘You’re more masculine, would you like to be referred to as ‘he/him?’’

“I mean, everyone calls me that… I think I’m fine with that.”

‘You aren’t obligated to take what I say, you know. I want you to feel comfortable underneath my control!’

Punz considered the different possibilities, he enjoyed the fact that the egg was helping him.

“Actually, I presume I like ‘they/them,’ but I also want to use ‘he/him.’”

‘Do you like ‘he/they?’’

“That... That sounds nice, I like that,” He smiled, the continuous flurry of white specks dusted his face.

Leaning back and eventually laying in the snow, a warm, content feeling heated his body. Happiness, a feeling he enjoyed above the sorrow and angst on the server.

‘Do you… mind visiting me?’

“After this, Not at all,” Punz got up and looked around again. It was surprisingly dawn, “I’ll be there in a bit.”

‘Thank you!’

.

.

.

“No,” He chuckled, pulling the hood back over his hair, “thank you.”

And even louder shout out to all the “medium” and “small” blogs that follow me bc you guys are the ones I see in my notes most and it makes me really happy to see people so invested in all my stupid shitposting :’)

Magnus, thinking: Ok so I haven't aged in years. Am I just aging like a fine wine or did I stop aging? Did I stop aging a long time ago and just looked too old for that age or too young? I have no idea how old I look like. How do even certain ages look like? I guess late teens uhhh...