Work Text:
Quackity wasn’t sure about all this.
An elevator that came from who-knows-where, a group of boys in a maze with the purpose of who-knows-what. There had to be something he could do. There had to be something that made sense in this shucking… glade.
They’d called it a glade, hadn’t they?
Phil and Tubbo were the two in charge of the place, apparently. Again, Quackity wasn’t too sure what was going on, or even if he trusted the words of the boys that had claimed leadership. Phil definitely was the oldest in the bunch, but seniority shouldn’t always equal superiority.
To be fair, though, the glade seemed pretty well run. Everyone did their job, no one seemed to hate each other. Not really a high bar, but when all that was expected was survival, they were doing pretty good.
It was dinner, on his third or so day. He was going to work with Technoblade the next day, which some people pitied him for, but Technoblade didn’t seem too bad. He just didn’t have that many friends, is all.
Quackity sighed, staring down at the sandwich on his plate. It looked good, but he didn’t feel hungry. Not after working with the slicers all day, even if they did remark at how good he was at it.
“Yo, greenie.” A boy with a white headband tied around his head slid into the seat next to Quackity. “My food not look good or something? Why aren’t you eating?”
He stared blankly at the boy. “I have a name, you know.”
“So do I,” smiled the boy, as if this had been his plan all along. “I’m Sapnap. What’s your name?”
“Quackity,” he said slowly. “And your food looks fine, I just don’t feel that hungry.”
Sapnap nodded sagely. “Yeah, you were working with the slicers today, weren’t you? Don’t worry, if you end up with them, I could probably steal you occasionally to help in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, man.” Quackity couldn’t help the smile that slid onto his face. “I appreciate it.”
-
He’d been drowning in confusion, but Sapnap had pulled him out of his thoughts.
-
Being in the glade wasn’t so bad, he supposed.
It had been a fair few months, close to a year, and he’d gone through a couple promotions to land himself in the position of Keeper of the Slicers. It wasn’t bad, just gruesome sometimes, and if it ever got bad, Sapnap pulled him out of work and let him clean the kitchen or whatever else needed to be done. It was great, and allowed some alone time that they took advantage of.
Technoblade was alright once you got to know him. He was blunt and snide, but he could be funny, too. He hadn’t been the same since the Griever sting a while ago, but in all honesty, Quackity appreciated the pessimistic outlook a little. Not to mention, Techno was a beast- and anyone had to at least respect the dude.
Quackity liked his job. It was a little dangerous, a lot bloody, and involved a lot of looking away from the animal on the chopping block, but he didn’t mind. He got good with a blade, much better than he’d have expected when he was the greenie.
He liked his job, but he didn’t like the situation he was in at that moment.
“Shuck,” He bit out, choosing to look away from the blood that was running down his arm from a blade swung awry. “Uh, Medjack? Can someone get a medjack?”
A couple heads turned, only to make a noise in sympathy. One person, Quackity wasn’t sure who, turned and started to leave the area.
“Should we try to stop the bleeding?” A voice asked, and Quackity grinned tensely.
“That would be a wonderful idea if we had any spare cloth to use. I don’t think that Tommy would appreciate having to wash blood out of our shirts, though. I’m fine, I can wait for the Medjack.” He felt a wave of nausea pass through him, and he laughed lightly. “Maybe I’ll start walking over there. Back to work everyone, I’ll return shortly.”
No one seemed eager to go back, but that wasn’t his problem yet. It would be if Phil caught them slacking, but even then he wouldn’t get in that much trouble. He was injured, after all. He couldn’t help that they decided to rest rather than work.
A little further away, Quackity could see one of the medjacks walking towards him. It was the one with fluffy brown hair that had been there longer than Quackity had- the one that Sapnap was friends with. They’d spoken a couple times, his name was Karl, but they’d never gotten close.
To be honest, Quackity had always been a little jealous of how often Karl and Sapnap could be found together.
It made sense that Karl was the one to help him, though, since the only other one was Corpse, and he was the greenie the previous month, so he was still learning.
“You alright? Heard you cut your arm.” Karl yelled over to him.
Quackity didn’t respond, because if he opened his mouth he was scared he’d vomit. The pain started to set in too, the adrenaline gone, and if he thought about anything other than preventing the onslaught of tears that threatened to fall, he’d cry.
Karl’s voice was much closer this time. “Oh, that… that’s a lot of blood. Come on, let’s get you to the homestead. It’s a long trek from the animal pens.”
He could feel an arm go across his waist and his legs almost gave out, but he forced himself to keep walking. They were out in the open, and showing weakness here meant being dead meat.
Somehow, by some miracle, they made it to the homestead without him passing out. It was an almost lost battle, but still, Quackity sat there and watched Karl fuss over his injury. He retreated into his mind, letting his eyes undoubtedly go cloudy with unfocus.
He couldn’t believe that something like this had happened. He’d let his mind wander for a split second, and suddenly the year of training he’d had was gone. The blade had sliced his arm, and there was nothing he could do. He’d been stupid enough to loose the laser focus that he constantly needed, and now, he’d probably be the one that was teased for everything, considering it was pretty late in the month and the newest addition to the glade had settled in well. Quackity wasn’t looking forward to facing all of the people he was supposed to lead when he went back to the animal pens and slaughter barn. It was his first accident, though, so maybe Phil wouldn’t replace him as Keeper. God, he hoped not. Being Keeper was the only reason he had any ounce of respect at all- and even then, Quackty had the feeling that not many people liked him.
“Hey, stop that.”
Quackity blinked his eyes lazily, letting his gaze fall onto Karl’s face. “Stop what?”
“I can hear your thoughts from here, shank.” Karl said with a little laugh at the end. “You’re doubting yourself and putting yourself down, when you shouldn’t be doing either of those.”
“Oh? And how do you know what I’m doing?”
Karl rolled his eyes. “Because Sapnap does the same thing all the time.”
“Right.” Quackity said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice that the cute brunet knew Sapnap so well. “Sapnap.”
“Hey, listen. I’ve got nothing against you and Sapnap hanging out together if you don’t mind us hanging out. Besides,” Karl smiled, “You’re cute. Maybe all three of us could be friends, because there’s no reason to not like each other.”
Quackity frowning. “Did you call me cute? Are you hitting on me?”
All thoughts from Quackity of how pathetic he was being, or how awful it would be to face everyone else, had gone. They’d left his brain and now all that was left was a confusing muddle of mush. If he’d retained a couple brain cells, maybe he would’ve realized that that was part of the plan.
Karl smiled, and suddenly Quackity couldn’t hold anything against him. “I mean, if you’re okay with it, then yeah I’m hitting on you.”
Quackity wanted nothing more than to give Karl the world and keep that smile on his face. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good with it.”
The door burst open and Sapnap entered. “I saw you guys making your way across the field, I got here as soon as I could- why are you looking at me like that?”
-
He’d been drowning in his doubt, but Karl had brought him out of his haze.
-
Quackity looked at the small wooden carving that sat against the grass as a feeling of dread grew in his stomach and a look of horror took over his face. It matched the one in his pocket, and maybe no one else knew what it meant, but he did.
-
He was drowning in grief, but there was no one to help him this time.
-