#pixels imperfect

---

Smajor1995

Location: Cleo’s unit, Core District, 2nd Floor, 872

💙  🧡  💚

Mother Moon wears white like a bride, but her sword is poison-tipped. She yanks his eyelids back like they’re hooked on marionette strings, nostrils flaring at her command. With every step he takes down the hall back to his and Cleo’s room, Scott walks with his head high, as if a warm metal blade is pressed against his throat. Something red and hot and boiling blossoms in his chest, Cleo tugging the allay bond from just a chunk away. It’s cool. It’ll be cool. It’s… It’s weird, for sure, but it’s one conversation. He’ll be fine.

It’s like I’m talking to Irene and Linda. The Rotten Dragon and the Phantom Dragon. A lie, sure, but when he sets the scene inside his head, somehow it turns discussing what happened with Martyn and Cleo into a thing he can survive. If he can converse with their mums, he can converse with them. They’re on equal footing here.

When he eases the apartment door in again, Cleo and Martyn have moved to the couch, where they’re whispering with heads bent close. Scott can feel Cleo’s spiking nerves, but not their spoken words. Um. He veers mid-step towards the sink to fill a cup of water. Gods, he hates all of this. The people who like throuples seem to work them out, like it comes naturally. Scott’s far too particular about what he likes to gamble it all on juggling, but he admires those willing to risk the mess. To be clear, he isn’t bothered by Martyn specifically, but he wishes they weren’t talking in the room. This is his space too.

He drinks his water. Keeps his feelings folded at his chest. His duty is service with a smile. He’s not here to alter behavior; he’s just here to observe.

And I’d really like to drop my head in Cleo’s lap.

Scott jolts. He feels Cleo’s heartbeats startle, which it nothing he’s not used to. That thought about their lap, though, is something else. And Scott has seen Cub watch a squall with Scar curled peaceably against him enough times to recognize it.

Oh my gods… I really am becoming a vex! Even in my brain. With a shaky hand, Scott lowers the cup to the sink. He stands for three seconds, then rinses it out. He can feel two pairs of eyes burning the back of his neck. Why does this feel even worse than when everyone confronted him in Pearl’s apartment about possibly eating Sniff? Scott swallows, dries his hands, and walks over to join them in the living room.

“Hi. So, um…?”

“Yeah.” Cleo takes Martyn’s shoulder, gathering floppy head feathers in her fist. He looks at her in question. She guides his head down, nestling his cheek against her lap. “You can cuddle if you want, but you have to go on Deafen. I want to talk to Scott in private.”

Scott’s muscles tense up. Um. It’s not exactly polite - or super safe - to expect someone to shut their ears off, muting all surrounding sounds… But when Martyn looks up at her, Cleo’s stare is very firm. He gives the faintest nod. And Scott’s throat fills with scuttling endermite claws. My gods, how long have they been partners?

Martyn feels behind him for a pillow, which he moves into Cleo’s lap. Right. Smart; that will stop him from sinking through. Cleo scruffs her fingers in his feathers and Martyn Deafens without complaint. A couple clicking noises trickle through the air as internal systems adjust. He looks… pliable? Ready for instructions. His eyes dart up; Cleo lowers a hand to block them out.

“And no peeking, Mr. ‘Grew Up With Otters and Can Lip-Read.’”

“Ooh, hot,” Martyn says, but Scott can tell his hearts aren’t in it. He guides one wing towards his beak and starts chewing around one of his few feathers despite the awkward angle. He might be Deafened, but he isn’t Silenced, and every rustle of beak against phantom membrane sends a twitch down Scott’s back. He clears his throat against his fist. Should he sit? Maybe he’ll stand. No, maybe he’ll sit… on the coffee table. Erm. Maybe not. He settles for bracing himself on his hands, tapping lightly at the wood.

“So, um. You and Martyn?”

“It’s not…” Cleo looks unsure, waffling their bond. It twangs against his skin. “It’s only physical. Just, you know… settling down the mob brain. I don’t get my costumes out for him.”

Scott bites his lip. You never let me see you in costume.

Oh, shoot- Something wildly tangled and undefinable flares like a star inside his chest. Scott puts a hand there, pinching skin with respawn-sharp claws. He didn’t mean to come across this cranky. Um. He and Cleo don’t- They actually don’t talk about her costume thing. He’s hung around long enough to catch them working on a sewing project, but they’ll usually finish a thread and put it up shortly after he arrives. She’s shown him current projects, but never anything from The Closet Drawer. No. That place, even if he is her allay, isn’t his to touch.

He swallows spit again. What if I want to see you dress pretty someday, though? He gets that it’s a sensual thing for Cleo - He gets it, he GETS it - and knows playing dress-up is something she’s very sensitive about, what with her past life as a villager before she got bitten by a zombie young. Olivia can’t just raise zombies with her villagers for the exact same reasons Alice and Sylvia were never friends. So Cleo left her mum, left her home, and moved to Underdark Crossing instead. Maybe it was needed for the greater good, but the world of villager role-swapping was ripped away from her. She pours love in every stitch of every robe, cloaking herself in power (and control).

… Scott knows he has no right to see her wear her silly things. He’s curious for purely fashionista reasons. If Cleo ever flirts with him while wearing her gear, then wires got maaaajorly crossed- He likes men, and that’s never changing. No matter how much he wants to watch anime and eat giant pretzels with Pearl again, or how jealous he is of the way WellsGlazes looked at Scar like he held the best territory in the whole perimeter. What’s that even about? Ugh. That better not become a thing. Literally no one wants to see them gooey-eyed. If she were still a guy, Scott’d be tempted to ask her out. Might as well show her what an allay can do that a vex cannot.

He’s happily gay. Don’t forget that for a second. Cleo does not owe him a peek at her sewing projects. Those are her private things.

“I could bring your gear out when you’re with Martyn,” he blurts, then claps a palm over his mouth. The sting jolts his whole system. It hurts his hand; the flash of a glitch makes Martyn jerk up his head. “Cleo, I did not mean to say that.”

“It’s… it’s fine,” she says, cupping Martyn’s eyes again, but she looks as shaken as he is. Scott’s legs get jelly-wobbly. She doesn’t want him in the room. Not when she’s in costume. Scott tries not to let that rattle him, even though allays are a player’s friend. Maybe friends would just be in the way.

Renthedog

Location: Ren’s bedroom, Core District, Central New Star Station

💙  🧡  💚

Ren is by no means an illager. He wasn’t raised near them, he’s never lingered in the Cherry Peninsula, and he makes absolutely no claims of being familiar with the culture. All his learning comes from hefty books and what friends like Cub, Hypno, and BigB have told him about life where they grew up. Mmmaybe a dash of Welsknight and Tango on the side, through the sheer nature of where the blaze spawner stands. Plus Impulse and Skizz’s adventures, of course. Doc’s long-distance friends. Joel and Lizzie’s wild tales. A dashing pinch of Martyn from long summers he spent in the otter spawn hub. There was a time in Last Life when he, BigB, and Lizzie cooked food and washed their skins, which gave them space to talk. BigB answered honest questions, and Ren learned a side of Illager life he never had before.

Ren is Ren. He knows what he knows; he rolls up his sleeves and fact-checks what he doesn’t. You can’t be too careful out there. Either way, he does his very best.

“Doc and I can make some food,” he says to BigB, laying one of his stumps against the man’s glowing elbow. BigB’s fully flared, absolutely: cyan from head to toe. Y’know, some people ask Ren why he wears the shades indoors. Flared friends frolicking fearlessly for friendship frequently fits the reason why. Let’s not get funny about the details, all right?

Look at him, though… BigB stands like an enderman in the middle of his room, his hands stuffed inside his sleeves. He’s a bit stooped in the shoulders, blinking like he might summon phantoms overhead at any moment, but he paints a regal portrait standing there.

Ren scratches his brain like he’s going at it with a back paw. He can’t quite recall the last time he saw BigB in his illusioner robes. He does reveal them on occasion- There’s a hunting sport a good lot of the Illager folks are into, and Ren’s cheered in the stadium for all his friends when they’re out running the field. The fabric’s blue and speckled beneath the all-consuming glow, rippling like a river down his body to the ankles. He’s still wearing leather boots.

Now, there’s a good-lookin’ man. Ren won’t force BigB to show his hands. Be a bit inappropriate, don’t you think? Illagers do all their magic with their hands, so to hold one is to rob them of the ease of self-defense! Most affronting! BigB swivels his head, gazing at him with fuzzy vision. He says nothing. Ren tries again, gently, and brings his other stump up to brush BigB’s cheek. “Busy day, right? Let’s get you out of those robes. You wash up and we’ll cook a meal you won’t forget.”

“I am hungry,” BigB agrees in the soft tones of Illagealt. Oh, baby- They sound like butter on his lips. “That’s very sweet.”

Ren hopes he’s translating all that right. BigB’s body language supports the chill way he’s speaking, though Ren’s grasp on the words is rockier than he’d like admitting. He knows a lot of words that relate to blocks and actions. He knows ‘hungry.’ Sweet? It’s blurry, but he feels like he learned that once upon a time. Ender’s always come a little easier to him; it’s what dragons speak, you know. Had some motivation to figure that one out early on.

“Would you appreciate any help with your dresser-age?”

BigB nods, grunting in the affirmative, so Ren moves his hands to the front of the robes. BigB does the buttons and Ren pulls them up and over his head like a towel off a wet crafting table. He turns away to fold them, and BigB bends to remove his boots on his own. His movements are slow - awkward, undeniably - but he gets them unlatched without assistance. B slides off first one boot, than the other. These, he hands to Ren.

No problem. Ren accepts, resolving to set them by the front door. For now, he vanishes them into his inventory. Illagers freshly back from a patrol seek connection with their tribemates, right? BigB’s giving him the boots on purpose. A sort of, You’re part of the crew gesture that Ren won’t violate by tossing the shoes aside right in front of him.

BigB’s fingers scratch his sweater vest. Taking the invitation, Ren helps him out of that too. It’s not a simple thing to do when you’ve got stumps for hands! Nonetheless, off comes the shimmery cyan shirt, and then the glowing trousers. Easy breezy. “You’ve been here before,” he says, watching BigB cross his hands uncomfortably in front of his chest. Without the sleeves, he’s got nowhere else to put them. Sweet-lookin’ bod, though. Not that he ever forgot. BigB doesn’t spend much time building in Minecraft, but regular jogging sessions and whatever else he does in Roblox (among other worlds) has certainly carved his abs. Nice. “Should I walk you to the tub?” Tub’s new. Toilet’s still in the same place it’s always been.

“Yes. Help. Ren, please- I’m so close, so close-”

Oh no. “To starting a raid?” he asks gently, and BigB grunts. His fingers itch his arms; his chest. Ren eyes the Bad Omen mark on his right-hand shoulder. “Okay. Uh. You’re doing quite well, for a first-timer! Can I bring in Doc to help?”

BigB exhales. His shoulders loosen up a bit, and maybe (Maybe) he’s finally learning to let go. “Yes. Protect the city.”

“Got it.” He turns to walk away, and BigB’s footsteps tail him down the hall. A soft, chirring whine trickles through the air. Ren twitches his ears. He glances at BigB just once, to which the man pulls back his head. If he weren’t already cyan, he’d probably be flushing.

“I need supervision.”

“No problem. If you want to hug me at any time, you’re more than welcome to.”

BigB hums in approval. “To stop my hands. Clever.”

---

PearlescentMoon

Location: Pearl's unit, Simmers' Quarter, 4th Floor, 552

🖤  🧡  💚

Scott’s exhausted, riled up on moonfluence, and worst of all… embarrassed. He doesn’t clarify all that, but Pearl would be the same. They untangle from the bed and spend a few minutes walking around. Scott’s got moonlight to shake like water off his wings. Break time offers Pearl the chance to follow up with Bdubs, because if she doesn’t, he’ll probably lose his mind. She checks her comm, but he hasn’t sent another ‘Still good?’ since she asked he keep his distance. Hm. Maybe he’s treating her like an adult who can make her own choices after all.

She sends another whisper anyway. Adulting’s a two-way street and she’s not gonna drop the ball on keeping Bdubs in the loop. She sits at the bar counter while Scott’s on the other side, eating another brownie. He sees her typing. He’s not near enough to read the screen and he doesn’t ask who, but Pearl glances up and their eyes meet anyway. He doesn’t look thrilled she’s talking to someone on the side.

“I’ll put it away,” she tells him. “Just writing someone back while we chill.”

“About the cat?”

“What?”

“You said you might adopt a second cat. You, uh… don’t date, so you-” And he laughs, tossing back his head. “You sort of glitched out my go-to options there! I was like, ‘No, Pearl doesn’t  like women; can’t gush and ask her who,’ and ‘Oh no, she doesn’t like men either.’ Pearl, that’s all I have.”

She laughs along with him, and exchanges a glance with herself inside her head. You can’t think of anyone else I’d talk to if I’m not trying to pick them up?

Sigh. She’s pouring words down his throat with a ladle. Deep breath. Remember… If Cleo and Martyn made it work, she and Scott can too. Open communication. Honest expectations. No judgment. Apologies. That’s how it all goes down.

He pauses for a moment, then says, “I’m sorry you got pulled away from Gem and Impulse. Bdubs… Bdubs mentioned that. I was dragon brain when I had him invite you to tea party. I didn’t know.”

“No worries. You needed me.”

That comment leaves him visibly uncomfortable. He stands there, half a brownie in his hand. Pearl doesn’t pay him much attention, swiftly messaging a couple other people who’d sent her whispers. Look, she might as well. Scott walks away at some point. Pearl hears the balcony door squeak open. He’s probably checking the lock.

… He’s not, when she looks up again. The door is shut. Huh? Pearl crosses the living room, a spatter of nerves curving up her spine as she can’t see Nugget, until she hears a mew from up the hallway. Pearl squints through the window to confirm Scott’s not talking to someone on his comm. He’s definitely there, though… slumped against the rail, fingers tangled at the front of his hair. His bun’s pulling loose. Pearl opens the door as noisily as she can.

“Hey. You all right, mate? We can meet tomorrow if you need a longer break.”

Scott says… nothing at all. He stares down over the small section of New Star that her balcony overlooks. There’s not much to see out here in the southeast corner - Pretty much everything’s on the building’s other side - but the lanterns are nice, all glowing blue and white. Pearl leans against the balcony’s edge, trying to give Scott plenty of space without, y’know… letting the guy who is a dragon and clearly fighting with some strong emotions right now out of her sight.

“I,” he finally says, “feel like I’ve gaslit, gatekept, girlboss’d too close to the sun. I’ve gaslit myself, I think.”

Yeah, and he looks it, too. “You wanna talk longer?” Pearl jabs a thumb somewhere in the west. “My boss needs Moo today, not me. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

“This isn’t something I can talk about. Thank you, though.”

… Not sure what that’s about. “Mind if I hang out anyway?” See also, do not let the dragon stay unsupervised on the balcony. That’s not just a precaution for destructive powers, but if Alice seizes control of his body while his attention’s not all there and gets into trouble, well… Imagine if he careened into a wall and died from kinetic energy. Not good.

Scott shrugs. So together, spaced apart, they wait the minutes out on a little balcony in a little corner of a little city underground, way out here at the edge of the world. Or what may as well be, anyway. Pearl, knowing how much he loves to talk, expects that Scott will spill his thoughts eventually. He mostly doesn’t. After a while, he just asks if he can hug her again. She allows it. He squeezes her tight. They’ve got their collision back enough to feel it. Then he wipes his face and says if she gives him a couple more minutes, he’ll fix the door.

Pearl, maybe against her better judgment, carefully gives him alone time after that. She stays in the living room, though, until Scott’s ready to come back in. He waves his hand, rainbow sparkles glittering, and hands her a brand new key. Locks are changed. She thanks him and says she plans to tell Martyn off. Scott grumbles that she can absolutely report him for this because he had no business barging in if he wasn’t hunting and Pearl assures him that she’ll catch him sometime and talk about it privately. She likes to think he had good reason. He probably didn’t. Martyn doesn’t always think before he goes out wandering.

“Whyyyyy did he have a key?” Scott asks, trying a little too hard to sound casual about it. Pearl shrugs. She could lie to him, or she could be honest and it might be exactly what he needs to snap him out of allay brain (It’s impossible not to notice how he follows her, always staying a little behind and to one side).

“Gave it to him mid-Double Life for co-spawn roleplay.”

Scott freezes. Oh, yeah? Pearl turns on her heels, hands to hips. Her wings flap out to either side. “Don’t ask if you don’t want the answer, silly!”

He looks at her. He just… And she can see him rewiring his brain. The version of her his allay mind painted on a pedestal. The who she is doesn’t fit with who he thought he was doing favors for. He should drop it (Why’s he think he can ask?) but he says, “What?”

“Co-spawn roleplay. Came over and palled around; we pretended he sired my spark. What’s not to get? You and Cleo left us out in the cold, dude; we were lonely between sessions. It’s a long time to wallow.”

He looks very fidgety now, so Pearl changes the subject. “Wanna see my cobble baby?” You can paint them any way you like, but Pearl took her time and gave hers a proper face. Scrunched up nose and little bat ears, swaddled in its wings. She keeps it in a chest for when the nurse urges hit hardest beneath the waning moon.

“Not… really?” He rubs behind his neck. “You’ve made your point; that wasn’t my business.”

“Nope,” she says, grinning back at him. He makes a face. Scott tolerates the late-night bar conversations about what it might be like to have little sparks running around, but nursehood’s not for him. He’s a sire if he’s either one at all. Mob allays duplicate themselves without a partner, so maybe there’s something in his instincts that feels like it’s kind of gross. Or it’s some suppressed dragon thing. Rebellion. Who knows.

- One and a Half Birds takes place entirely in a server hub (in the Between dimension). This means it's not on a server. Only one inventory slot is active (the soul slot). Materials are Minecraft-themed, so toothpaste and soap are made from charcoal.

- The server hub is New Star Station. It's built in a perimeter that's covered at the top; everyone is underground. Lots of deepslate and bedrock.

- All characters are mob hybrids. They're hatched from eggs laid by the 100 mob-themed dragons. Grian is a parrot, Mumbo a wandering trader, and Scar is an allay who became a vex (His player file broke and he became a vex after Cub rescued him from the death loop this sent him into). Grian and Scar have wings and can fly. Scar can clip through walls.

- Player files look like end crystals when placed on crying obsidian. Otherwise, they look flat. These are important; it's their life force. They're also kind of like Poké balls.

- This story's Grian swapped places with the Grian who USED to live in the digital universe. This plays into Grian's Watcher lore: he came from a universe where the Life Series was real and scary. It's left him traumatized. The fic will explain this in more detail (as early as Chapter 2).

- Grian, Scar, and Mumbo are close friends (Platonic). They each have apartments in different places around the perimeter. Grian's is on the second floor, Mumbo's is on the ground floor (Next to his llamas). The fic starts in Grian's living room.

- Players are digital. Their bodies are made of code and light. In this story, Mumbo deals with a problem in his code. Players can't easily carry each other because they're made of light, so they can only touch briefly before their bodies fade through each other.

- There's no sex in the digital world. Players were created by developers and they weren't designed with those reproductive parts. However, the forehead is a sensitive zone for them, so tapping foreheads is a sign of affection. Players can breed if they eat a lot of golden carrots, but those are on-server only items (Extinct in the Between dimension). No sex scenes or gore in this story. Fun fact, but they use the bathroom by tapping the side of a composter. It just drains their bathroom needs automatically. That's it.

- Martyn and Mumbo are married because this story takes place right after Last Life SMP (where they were married). Grian and Scar don't know Mumbo is married.

- Martyn is a phantom hybrid: second in command of the local flock, under Bdubs. His job is to chase sleepy players back to their portals. If they don't go, he bites them, which automatically kicks them out of the Between dimension and back to their Overworld beds (on whichever server they've told the game is their AFK).

- Skins are clothing items. They can be taken off, revealing the true player form: glowing blue code. Grian is an exception because he's not blue (but his skin does come off). Since skin is clothing, it doesn't hurt when it comes off.

- Souls come in four temperatures: hot, warm, cool, and chilly. This is rarely important except in medical contexts, and it's important in this fic because of Mumbo's medical issues.

- Mumbo really does eat Grian's soul in Hermitcraft canon, so that's the lore I'm playing with. Impulse and Skizz are interpreted as sharing souls due to their Naked & Scared series' lore, so Impulse gives Grian some advice.

- Martyn is an obligate anivore. He can't eat physical food; he can only eat souls. When an anivore bites a player to log them out, this gives them energy. The player is forced to rest briefly before they can return to Between.

- "Soul teeth" don't make contact with a player skin: just the soul beneath. It doesn't hurt to be logged out, but some people like it (It resets their hunger meter and means they don't have to walk home, cook, or do dishes) and some people don't (Preferring to leave Between by exiting through a portal on their own feet).

- Mumbo has an infection (parallel of an STD) because Martyn chews on him as a form of affection, and Martyn's job is biting other people. Due to Martyn not properly brushing his teeth and Mumbo not properly washing his soul, Mumbo's soul is contaminated with other species data. When the story starts, he's taking medicine to fix this.

- Scar has a glitch that moves to different places of his body over time. Sometimes he can walk and sometimes he can't. In this story, Scar uses a cane.

- Camera accounts are people. In the opening scene of this story, Grian's having a party at his house where he's hanging out with Mumbo and Scar while TwoMuchGrian, MumboDrone, and BadTimeWithScar are hanging out in the back room. There's one scene where Two crawls inside Grian's head, which he can do because he has a special camera person body.

- Etho is a self-taught doctor (a nod to him being a programmer IRL). He and Mumbo talk about Mumbo's health.

- Scar is also an anivore (His official vex lore is that "he eats people"), so he's able to advise and supervise the eating process, but doesn't participate himself.