#lyzer writes

He thought back to one of his last skirmishes. The one with Spoke—his little brother. His brows furrowed at the thought. How could he do that to him? Why? He remembered how happy he was to see Spoke finally visiting after months of living in the End. He hadn’t seen him since the Mafia ended. He remembered the confusion followed by betrayal as Spoke led an army of players in to destroy the island, his home. 

What reason did he have to do that? His brother has always been a tad… reckless, per se, but how could he possibly rationalise doing that? 

Minute realised that he had turned onto his side and was somewhat curled up around himself, tail wrapping around his leg anxiously. Once he felt the slightest of wetness gathering in his eyes, he quickly let out a shaky sigh and blinked for a bit, pushing the tears and thoughts back.

The man rolled back onto his back, letting all of his thoughts get absorbed into the void surrounding him. The ever-present emptiness he’s grown accustomed to. The nothingness he would now call a friend—he was a voidling after all. 

A quiet but noticeable whooshing sound echoed across the pillars, indicating someone had come through the portal and putting a halt to Minute’s thoughts. He slowly pushed himself up off the rough ground, groaning slightly as the sensation of lying on uneven terrain for so long finally caught up to him.

As he started to walk over to the entrance, he mumbled his usual monologue to himself quietly, practising it even though he’d had it memorised since forever. He gingerly stepped down into his two-way door system before strutting up to the window into the entrance room.

“What brings you to the En- Whoa, what happened?”

Minute’s spiel was instantly cut off when he saw the player he was talking to. A tall seraphim was curled up on the floor, cradling his shoulder, which seemed to be leaking a lot of golden blood. The guardian of the End immediately sprang into action, moving to the control panel to open the door and then impatiently waiting for the netherite to move out of the way.

The moment the door opened, Minute rushed to the seraphim’s side, dropping to his knees and letting his hands hover over their trembling form. Now that he was closer, Minute could make out an arrow lodged deeply into their shoulder. 

He also realised the player was Eggchan, a friend of Wemmbu. He didn’t know much about Egg, but there was no way Minute could ever just leave him like this. It was his job as guardian of the End to ensure the safety of all that came through here.

Minute carefully rested a gloved hand on Egg’s uninjured shoulder, trying to provide the pained man any sort of comfort.

“Egg, can you hear me?”

Through his staggering breaths and tight expression, Egg cracked open his eye and hazily glanced up at Minute. Minute tried to keep his expression and voice as calm and clear as possible, but he couldn’t help but knit his eyebrows together slightly at the sight of Egg’s terrified expression.

“I’m going to take you to my medbay, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

As gently as possible, Minute hooked his hands under Egg’s knees and neck and delicately raised him into his arms, trying his best not to jostle the seraphim much. 

A lot of Egg’s blood stained Minute’s impeccable suit on the way over, but that was the least of Minute’s worries right now. He could always wash it later. This couldn’t wait. 

The overwhelming smell of potions filled his nose as Minute turned into the medbay. Truth be told, the medbay went mostly unused, mostly just providing a place for Minute to store all of his potions, but he was grateful he had installed one now.

Minute warily sat Egg on one of the beds, taking extra care as not to shift the arrow still hanging out of his arm. Egg’s head fell limply to his own chest, too tired and pained to keep it up. Once assured that Egg wouldn’t immediately fall off the bed without his support, Minute turned around to grab some potions from the cabinets lining the wall.

After a few seconds of pure agony for Egg, Minute hastily returned to the side of the bed with two bowls and a clean cloth.

The first bowl he set aside on the table, while he dipped the rag in the other. Before attempting to put the serum on the wound, Minute fetched a pair of shears from the bedside drawer and gingerly cut the fabric of Egg’s suit around the arrow, providing clear access to the wound. Egg was far too out of it to notice or care.

Now with proper visuals of the area, Minute grabbed the cloth and began to dab the potion into the skin around the injury. Soon, a weird static-y and floaty sensation bloomed from the area. Slow-falling. It was a good numbing agent when applied to wounds to prevent the inevitable pain when Minute had to remove the arrow.

Putting the bowl aside and placing a firm hand around the wound, the voidling leaned over to get a better view of the seraphim’s face. Egg’s neck was still craned forward, and he was constantly heaving deep and shaky breaths. His eyes were slightly watery and wide as he stared directly into his lap. 

“Ok, Egg, this is going to hurt, alright? Just… breathe for me.”

The only response Egg could muster was his eyes squeezing shut in preparation. Without waiting another second, Minute placed his other hand around the base of the arrow, frowning at the twitch it caused from Egg’s shoulder. Then, without any more hesitation, Minute tore the arrow from his skin.

Egg let out a wail of anguish as his wings puffed up and shot out, hitting poor MinuteTech square in the cheek. Minute pulled back and cradled his cheek as he watched Egg let out a few more choked sobs before crumbling again, wings falling back and limbs loosening their tension.

Minute set the bloodied arrow on the table and replaced it with the other bowl and towel. The guardian of the End scooted closer to the seraphim, who was now relying on the bedframe to prop him up. Minute doused the rag in the liquid, which was full of a watered-down regeneration potion.

Minute began to carefully put firm pressure on the wound with the cloth, letting the skin absorb the potion. After peeling it back, the broken skin glowed a faint pink around the edges, and the bleeding had slowed. Minute wiped away some of the crusted blood from Egg’s shoulder as best he could without tearing the skin further.

Now with a better visualisation of the injury and no more fear of Egg bleeding out, the voidling tutted as he stood up to retrieve a needle and spider silk. Before starting with the stitches, Minute reapplied more of the slow-falling onto Egg’s shoulder to ease a bit more of his pain.

Egg tensed up and squirmed a bit as Minute inserted the needle into his skin, mostly feeling uncomfortable more than anything. Minute went as carefully and quickly as he could; after all, it was just a small puncture wound and the regen had already sealed a bit of it, so Minute wasn’t working for long.

He finished up, tying one last knot before snipping the thread and putting it away. By this time, Egg had righted himself and watched quietly as Minute worked—surprise surprise, he was a lot more attentive when he didn’t have an arrow piercing his flesh.

As the voidling began wrapping the area with gauze so the stitches wouldn’t get pulled out, Egg finally got the energy and confidence to say something.

“Yo, you ruined my suit!”

Egg’s voice sounded drowsy and a bit hoarse, but Minute still let out a low chuckle at his comment, gesturing vaguely at his dress shirt.

“Could say the same about you.”

The younger man’s eyes trailed down to take in Minute’s full outfit. It looked like he had just come from a massacre with how much of Egg’s blood illuminated Minute’s outfit. Egg winced a bit and looked up at him with a sheepish expression, but Minute returned it with a reassuring smile. 

“Are you feeling alright?-”

Minute’s question was interrupted by the familiar sound of someone coming through the portal. He cursed under his breath before turning up to face Egg.

“I have to go check who’s there. Will you be ok staying here?”

Egg nodded firmly and jokingly saluted Minute with his good arm. The voidling responded with a huff of a laugh and left the medbay to check the door. 

Once out of sight, Minute hurried to the entrance, not wanting to leave Egg alone for too long. He quickly stepped up the stairs and peered through the thick glass into the room.

The unmistakable bright purple hair and clothes instantly made Minute recognise the figure as Wemmbu. It did make sense; the two were practically inseparable. Of course, if Eggchan comes tumbling through an End portal, Wemmbu wouldn’t be far behind.

But past his basic observations, Minute noticed Wemmbu was off. Blood was splattered over his clothes and skin, which—now that Minute was thinking about it—wasn’t all that out of the ordinary. It was hard to tell how much of it was someone else's and how much was his.

However, Wemmbu was missing his usual cocky smirk. In fact, his usual boastful demeanour was completely gone. He was rigid and breathing heavily, adrenaline still slowly fading. 

He was just staring blankly at the voidling, not really staring at him but rather staring through him. It could almost be considered scary how the demon glared at Minute with wild eyes, panting as he was covered with blood.

But Minute couldn’t find it in himself to be scared of Wemmbu. So instead, he returned with a slightly confused and concerned look. His brows furrowed just a bit, and his mouth parted in an unasked question.

That expression of pity was what finally broke Wemmbu out of whatever trance he was in before. He straightened his back to appear taller, and his lips curled up in a small grimace. He almost looked annoyed at Minute as he stepped closer to the glass, now avoiding eye contact.

“Let me out, Minute.”

His words were short and stiff, barely able to be grunted out. Minute didn’t make any attempt to open the door; instead, he tilted his head and continued to stare down at Wemmbu. It felt demeaning, like he was some pathetic chungy that Minute felt obligated to care for.

“Let me out.”

Wemmbu tried again, putting more force into the word as his glare filled with venom. The threatening stance did not affect Minute as he just craned his head the other way, still taking in the younger man. Wemmbu snarled and tightened his grip on Gambit, still dripping with blood and brain matter—he had half a mind to shatter the glass with his mace and force himself out if Minute didn’t start moving soon.

Minute sighed and turned to open the door, watching as the mechanism slowly sank into the floor, letting Wemmbu free. He stood there panting for a few more seconds before coming to his senses and shoving past Minute, heading straight for the portal and letting Gambit disappear into his inventory.

Now that Wemmbu was out from the dark, thick glass, Minute could properly take in his form. Minute could clearly make out a handful of scratches and cuts littering his skin, some more worrisome than others, though the worst of them were laced over with the faint golden glow of golden apples.

More concerningly, he looked incredibly dishevelled and famished—almost like he hadn’t eaten anything except gapples in days. He had deep bags under his eyes, and his hair was matted with filth covering it. To put it bluntly, Wemmbu was a mess.

Minute bit his lip, debating on saying anything for a bit as Wemmbu brushed past him, headed straight for the portal. Before the demon could ascend the steps, Minute grabbed his wrist firmly, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wha- Minute, let me go!”

Minute didn’t release him however, pursing his lip in hesitation and giving Wemmbu that obnoxious pitying look. Wemmbu scowled at him in disgust, attempting to pull his hand from the voidling’s iron-clad grip to no avail. Minute clicked his tongue before opening his mouth.

“Let me help you.”

Minute tried to keep his voice as level as possible, not trying to sound too desperate as not to unsettle the demon too much. It didn’t work well as Wemmbu gritted his teeth together and tried his hardest to glare at Minute through his exhaustion.

“I don’t need your help.” 

Wemmbu was finally able to pull his wrist from Minute’s claws, giving the voidling one last dirty look before turning tail to go to the portal. Minute contemplated for a moment, watching as Wemmbu staggered towards the door at the center of the island. 

Just as Wemmbu reached the center, Minute darted in front of him, towering over him and blocking the portal. Minute’s eyes were narrowed and lips pursed in a fine line. His tail thrashed around behind him, slightly agitated. After a few tense seconds of the two staring each other down, Minute finally relented and crossed his arms.

“As the guardian of the End, it would be…irresponsible to let you back in your condition.”

Wemmbu merely grumbled at that excuse, still set on leaving without the older man treating him. He just wanted to go back to spawn, pick up Egg, and go blow up Flame with his new cannons. Why was that so hard for Minute to let him do?

“Oh, and I have Egg”

~~~

“Wemmbu, please try to hold still…”

The demon didn’t respond but did lift his shoulder so Minute could reach it better. Wemmbu was sitting up on one of the beds in the med ward with Minute sitting right next to him on a stool. Just across the room, Egg was propped up on his bed, still clearly weak but a lot better than how Minute found him. His shoulder was now tightly wrapped with gauze. 

Minute had been listening to the two of them bicker as he patched up Wemmbu—something about ‘self-sacrifice’ and ‘not trusting the random people we met out in the Farlands’ and ‘Egg, what were you thinking’ and ‘Don’t scare me like that ever again’. Minute was just glad he got Wemmbu to sit down; he had to practically pry the purple-haired man away from Egg’s side when he saw him.

The arguing eventually settled down, which Minute was grateful for, and now the two of them were lightly chatting about god knows what. Their conversation was occasionally interrupted by Wemmbu wincing or groaning as Minute tightened his bandages or wiped disinfectant over a particularly nasty wound, all of them being returned by a soft apology from Minute.

Once Minute was finally done patching Wemmbu up, the older man took a step back to admire his handiwork. Wemmbu paused mid-sentence at the sudden lack of hands on him and glanced up at Minute. Wemmbu was sitting quite comfortably now, resting his head against the pillows stuffed up on the bed frame. With his armour off (don’t question how Minute was able to convince him to take it off), he looked a lot smaller and less threatening, which Wemmbu was painfully aware of.

Despite his wounds being treated, Wemmbu was still a mess. His hair was matted, and his excuse of a ponytail was barely holding now. His wings were almost worse, feathers bent at awkward and uncomfortable angles, likely unable to be used until they were properly cleaned. Minute didn’t even bother to consider touching his hair or wings however; that would just end up poorly for everyone involved.

Minute’s tongue clicked as he took note of how thin and frail Wemmbu still looked. That was a problem Minute could solve. The voidling stood up abruptly, cleaning up his first-aid equipment before he marched to the exit of the medbay, pausing in the doorway just before he left.

“I’ll be right back. Try not to die while I’m gone.”

With an amused smile from Wemmbu, Minute turned tail to try and find anything edible for the two refugees to eat.

“Bro, please just eat the soup already.”

Egg finally spoke up from his side of the room after several minutes of Minute hopelessly trying to convince Wemmbu the stew he had given him was, in fact, not going to kill him. Despite the efforts of Eggchan and MinuteTech combined, Wemmbu kept glaring at the stew like it was seconds away from growing teeth and biting his face off. 

With a resigned and frankly exhausted sigh, Minute took the bowl from him and spooned a small amount of it into his mouth, holding intense eye contact with Wemmbu as he swallowed. Without looking away, Minute forced the bowl back into Wemmbu’s hands and glared at him expectantly.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Wemmbu raised the spoon to his mouth and hesitantly slurped down some of the stew, eyes still trained on Minute like any second now he was going to start taking poison damage. He obviously didn’t, so Minute stood up to go get Egg’s bowl, which had laid long discarded on his bedside table.

“Done.”

Minute whisked his head around to see Wemmbu wiping his mouth with his sleeve, the bowl, now completely empty, resting in his lap. Minute stood dumbfounded for a bit, turning to Egg, who only responded with a bored shrug before he handed Minute his bowl.

~~~

Soft snores came from the other side of the room where Egg slept deeply. Still sat up with his arms crossed, Wemmbu stayed propped up on his bed, clearly determined not to fall asleep. His emerald green eyes pierced through the darkness and hovered over Egg’s resting form, as if at any second he could just disappear. 

Minute stood nearby, leaning against the entryway as he looked over the two like a father waiting for his rambunctious kids to go to bed. With a soft exhale, Minute walked over and sat on the edge of Wemmbu’s bed. To Minute’s surprise, the demon didn’t react, keeping his gaze locked on his sleeping friend.

“You should get some rest.”

Minute peered over his shoulder at Egg, making sure his voice didn’t disturb the seraphim before turning back to Wemmbu. 

“…not tired.”

Wemmbu’s voice was nothing more than a low grumble, quiet but leaving no room for arguments. Minute’s lip hung open for a few moments, searching for the right words before shutting them and letting his eyes drop to his lap. 

As much as Minute wanted to fight Wemmbu on this, seeing that he just came back from—the Farlands? Is that what Egg had said?—he desperately needed the rest, Minute knew it would be no use trying to cause a dispute. Despite Minute not interacting with Wemmbu that much, he’s picked up one thing about the man; it took a lot to gain his trust. 

Wemmbu was reckless to put it bluntly. He’s incredibly overconfident in his abilities, which consistently leads to him and the people around him getting hurt. He picks fights he knows he can’t win. He’s cocky and obnoxious at times, but shuts down the moment things don’t go his way. Overall, he’s just kinda a nuisance.

But Minute could see through the walls he had built up. After all, he did remind Minute quite of his younger self. Behind that tough exterior, Wemmbu just wants to survive—to live—can anyone really fault him for that? Minute had seen that Wemmbu, that Wemmbu that laughed with Egg, that Wemmbu that nearly had a heart attack at the mere thought his best friend was hurt, that Wemmbu that he saw for the briefest moment through that door. 

That Wemmbu that was trying oh so hard not to give in and finally rest.

Minute scooted closer to Wemmbu, testing the limits before the demon inevitably pushed him away like he always did. Surprisingly, Wemmbu made no effort to move, even as his head was millimetres away from touching Minute’s shoulder. Still, Wemmbu kept his firm gaze locked on the air in front of him, not daring to show any signs of exhaustion despite it being painted in every crease of his face. 

“Thank you for helping me protect the End from Fantst and Baablu.”

Those were the words Minute eventually landed on; light and casual enough to allow the demon room to continue the conversation if he pleased. Wemmbu’s tail lazily swaying beside him was the only sign that Wemmbu even heard Minute at all. The silence that followed was thick, shoving its way down Minute’s throat and rendering him mute once more. He was just about to get up and leave the demon alone when

“Thank you for helping Egg”

“and helping me.”

Wemmbu bit his tongue, not letting the rest of the sentence escape. Minute was caught off guard, turning around to face Wemmbu. Wemmbu still refused to make eye contact with the voidling, but his eyes lost their blank expression, becoming much more present and emotive. 

“Of course.”

Just as Minute shifted back down onto the bed, he felt a weight press on his shoulder. He didn’t need to look down to realise Wemmbu, the feared mace wielder and one of the strongest players on the server, was leaning against his shoulder. Minute didn’t let himself react; instead, he just slowly let the tension melt off Wemmbu’s body as he got comfortable. 

Wemmbu’s eyes were half lidded as he stared at his lap, every one of his blinks getting longer and longer. Eventually, his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and he let out a soft sigh as his eyes slipped shut, now fully resting against MinuteTech. 

His eyebrows still held a bit of rigidity even as he slept, and Minute was sure by morning Wemmbu would be brushing this off, threatening Minute to never tell a soul about what happened. But, at least for the time being,

They were here

lyzer yaps - us yapping about random stuff

lyzer draws - any drawings we make

lyzer commentary - talking about shows or fandoms were in

lyzer writes - any fics or writings we feel like posting (spoiler alert, we probably won't finish most of them)