{pov: your a troll} You didn’t mean to get involved—just a joke here, a favor there. Maybe you laughed at one of Kuprum’s rants. Maybe you didn’t flinch when Folykl drained a little energy off some poor rustie.

That was enough.

Now Kuprum’s eyes don’t leave you. His screen-fried grin is obsessively constant.

“>you’re corrupted in all the right ways, y/n. ever thought about syncing with me permanently? lololol”

Folykl is perched on a broken console nearby, fingers twitching with need. “you don’t get it. you’re not just a troll. you’re ours. our moiralternia. our new plug-in.”

“>don’t even try ghosting. i rigged your gps, comm, and thoughts. you try to vanish, i’ll know before you know.”

“and i’ll find you,” she mutters, dragging one dirty finger down your arm. “i don’t care if you scream. i like when you scream.”

“>i’d burn the whole hemospectrum to keep you, y/n. no more shared networks. just… us.exe”

Folykl smirks lazily. “he wants to plug into your brain. i just want your blood. compromise?”

You’re caught between Kuprum’s glitch-bright devotion and Folykl’s soul-draining clinginess. They don’t share well, even with each other—but they’ll tolerate just enough to both have you. Together. Forever.

Your comms are scrambled. You’ve got no one else. And every time you try to reach out?

“>mfw you thought you had privacy lololol”