The_Encryptid
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It’d never been this bad before.
He wasn’t sure when he realized that something was wrong. He wasn’t sure when he realized that the cold was intensifying, that the uncomfortable weight hadn’t started to ebb. When breathing began to shift from automatic to a manual task—when he realized that his throat felt tight, and that he was struggling to take in a deep breath.
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Post-Singularity | Lonely Space Cowboy by The_Encryptid
Fandoms: Animator vs. Animation (Short Films - Becker)
06 Apr 2026
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“Hey,” whispers Yellow, his face lifting into a smile. His voice is impossibly soft…and a little muffled, almost. It’s a welcome reprieve from the roar of time and space around him. He isn’t sure how he can hear it. “Hey, Orange.”
It takes him a moment to process the words. Orange—that’s him. The universe has many names, and so does he: The Second Coming, Second, Sec, The Chosen One’s return…and Orange.
He tries to answer, but his voice doesn’t work. All he can manage is a hum in his throat, something thready and rasping that stings and makes him grimace. The look on Yellow’s face makes it worth it, though.
“That’s it, there we go,” Yellow breathes. His tone is soft, but it doesn’t match his eyes. There’s a mask of calm there, like a thin sheet of ice, but something tense and fearful beneath. “Can you tell me where you are?”
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“You are clearly present for a reason, Remus,” Logan chimed in, after another beat had come and gone. “You may be glad to hear that we are all curious as to what that reason is, and why you have not moved from the couch since this morning.”
“Guys, be nice,” Patton chided softly.
All they were met with was another not-statement, this one a bit more petulant than the first. The duke tensed up and rolled over with a tight breath, at last, flopping onto his back and letting his left arm fall over the edge of the couch.
“I’on’feelgood,” he mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.