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Teeny tiny ficlet based on this by @panklocalbard
(tw unreality? It gets glitchy)
Emmet
His name was Emmet.
In a thousand realities his name was Emmet.
Alone
He was alone.
In two thousand realities he was alone.
The weight piled on as light streamed in harshly from above him, fracturing into so many colors by the time it reached him. So too did he fracture in the weight of the memories that flooded in.
Desperation after desperation, a million voices all his own were crying out for an answer, a solution. Some shared memories. Wormholes, pokemon, tears in the fabric of reality. Most, like him, had nothing to offer.
Ingo was gone.
That truth was the only unifying factor as the fracturing continued. He was Emmet, had been Emmet, what was he now? Who were they now? A million cries at once, a million colors painting the floor in meaningless shapes.
Ingo was gone.
Their body broke down in the chair, hands clenched together against their forehead as the sob ripped through in a thousand horrendous echoes.
Reality couldn't hold the magnitude, it broke as well. Glitched. Colors desaturated, leaving merely red white and black.
He felt in motion even while still, duplicated yet detached, destroyed yet not dead. Colors, memories, feelings not his own were banished. The game righted itself.
What game?
He was Emmet.
He was alone.
He would find I̶̧̛̮̖̣̠̪̲͙̝̬͍͉̪͚͓̻̤̙̞̙͈͙̩̭̤̤̐̍̾̅̒̓̇̄̓͗̎̇̈́̽̈̽̑̾͌̈́̈́̕̕͜͝͝͠ń̷̢͚̰̝̠̣̭̻̖͍͉͔̹͚͍̬̻̲͓͉͚̪͚̫̫̰̯̔̀̑͑̽̌̂͋̀͂̀̓̄̑̏̔͋̍̈́͆̋͐̔̐͊͘̚̕͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅģ̸͕̠̭̣̪̬̮͕̠͈͍͈͉̙͔̮̻̪̗͎̱̟̩͕͇̬͉͖̪̹͉̠̰̟͈̃̀͌̉̿͆̇̍̈́̀͂̽̈́̑͋͐̅̏̈́͋́͋͌̆͝͝͝ͅǫ̷̧̡̢̛̠͖̞̣̼͈̲̝̮̙͓̫̰̘̰̲̠̳̟̦̰̹̣̜͓͚̹̤̒͊́̈́̒͛͊̂̈́̊̈́͑̓̂̋͋̆͛̓̿͐͛̈́̄̌̀̂͗̈́̓̕͜͜͝͠