𝕄ℂ𝕐𝕋 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕆𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤

𝕊𝕝𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕔𝕝𝕖 ~ ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕞

MCYT: Slimecicle

SMP or AU: 100 Days in a Minecraft Apocalypse AU (SPOILERS)

Type: Platonic, but mostly exposition to set up for a part two :)

Pronouns: They/Them

Notes: Y/N=Your Name (Not entirely canon-compliant with the video)

Premise: You had no idea where you were or what was going on. Or who the slightly panicky green-clad man with you was.

Trigger warnings: References to death, gore, injury detail, swearing, very mild emetophobia warning (wow a lot of triggers today lol)

Y/N's POV

I was conscious. That was a fun thing to experience so sudden and abrupt. I might have gasped for breath, if that was an option. I quickly found out it was not. My mouth opened as a reflex to do so but was immediately filled with an acrid liquid. I gagged as a taste that could only be comparable to the smell of petrol tainted my tongue. Coughing it up didn't help either. It seemed the liquid was surrounding me, choking me. It stung my eyes to open them, my hand taking longer than usual to rub them due to the slog through permeable substance thicker than water.

I reached out an arm blind, fingers fumbling in front of me to find some form of exit, an escape, anything. I was going to drown if I didn't hurry up. Which begged the question of how was I unconscious in here? And for how long? One question led to an alarming number of follow-ups, the most worrying being why the fuck couldn't I remember anything. My spiral was cut short by coated fingertips brushing a smooth surface, almost like glass. I couldn't open my eyes to confirm this, and would only have to hope it was that, or something similarly brittle. I lashed out, feeling my confine shudder. A muffled sound of something splintering spurred me to keep going. It was getting really hard to focus, I needed air.

A final slam of the heel of my palm crashed the world back in with colour, sound and confusion.

I surged forward, carried by the release of whatever awful substance I'd been in. I retched, the back of my throat burning with the yellowish bile that signified my stomach purging itself of any toxins. I lay on the floor for a while, utterly exhausted and struggling for air. My clothes were sopping, but intact, which I could at least be thankful for. The surface below me was (previously) stark white tiles that immediately reminded me of a sterile hospital. That, coupled with a lack of memories and being trapped in something that looked like a giant test tube did not bode well. I couldn't even begin to distinguish the liquid seeping onto the floor that I'd been... the phrase 'preserved in' popped into my head and I fought the urge to throw up again.

"Hello?" I scrambled up, backing into the nearest wall with the croaky call. I had no way to defend myself against what was likely a danger. My head whipped left and right, looking for the source of the noise. I found it, in the other corner, a shortish brunette man picking himself up off the floor, also in front of one of the 'tanks'. He shook out his green jacket, letting the awful substance ooze from the seams. He cringed, wiping circular glasses, also green, before looking up.

I stared him down for a few seconds, both of us caught like a deer in headlights, wanting to see who would move first. Was he a threat? Someone to trust? Someone to fear? I broke the silence first, whether from rash impatience or curiosity, I couldn't say.

"Who the fuck are you?" I demanded, trying my best to seem imposing.

"Who the fuck are you?" He shot back, uncertainly.

"I asked first," I said indignantly, crossing my arms slowly.

"You did, yes." He paused, swallowing. "Um... I'm Charlie." He finally relented.