#I know you're coming from AO3
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Universal Translator head-canon
In case youāre actually coming to this post because you like my Tumblr, instead of coming from the AO3 link in my fic, I should probably mention that Iām kind of hijacking my account here in order to break down some of the quite frankly ridiculous amounts of worldbuilding that goes into the stuff Iām starting to write. Iām autistic, which in my case means that I was the kid who sorted her legos for hours (by color, by width, by length etc) and never did get around to building anything. For me, the worldbuilding is the fun part, while writing the story is the work (though I do hope Iām pretty decent at it too, or at least getting better).Ā
I donāt want to put the worldbuilding itself into the fics, that would just distract from the story (my acting teachers would always say, never act your homework. When youāre on stage/camera, you have to be in the moment) - but just in case youāre curious, or if you want to use my aliens in your fics, or if youāre just a nerd like me who loves sorting details for their own sake, here it is.
This one is my head-canon for how the Universal Translator works.Ā
Well, actually I donāt have any idea how it works - do you hear a real-time voice in your head translating, does a text-based translation pop up in your field of vision, does your brain just know what they mean? Not a clue.
But what I do figure is that you can choose how itās translated - both for words, and for numbers and systems.
There are a number of levels that are preset for you to choose.
Thereās translate everything, where everything you hear is turned into the closest approximation that you would understand. If someone said āpara mi es chino,ā you would hear āitās all Greek to me,ā even though the Spanish version actually references Chinese. Idioms are converted to the closest with a similar meaning.
Then thereās the level where you get the meanings at the level of phrases and expressions, but idioms are left intact. So if someone said āme gusta pasta,ā you would hear āI like pasta," but if they said "para mi es chino," you'd hear "for me, it's Chinese" instead of the closest English idiom.
At the next level down, you would instead hear āpasta is pleasing to me.ā The literal meaning of the words is preserved, although the word order is rearranged to make the most sense grammatically.
Thatās probably as minimalist a translation as anyone whoās interested in the unique beauty of a language would choose to go, and thatās the most minimalist of the pre-sets available.Ā Ā
If you actually want to LEARN the other language, then youāll switch to manual settings. Ok, thereās one more pre-set, which is the āvocabulary onlyā setting. Every word is translated literally, and left in the exact order of the other language. So if someone said āme gusta pasta,ā you would hear āto me, pleases pasta.āĀ
From the vocabulary-only setting, you can manually adjust all sorts of things - you can set specific words or phrases to be entirely untranslated whenever you hear them, you can have a literal translation but use the native-speakerās original prefixes or suffixes. You can have the parts-of-speech information thatās embedded in the grammar be added to the translation (so āme gusta pastaā might include information like reflexive verb first person singular etc). The skyās kind of the limit with the manual settings - you can even take a preset level and modify it so that you hear the native suffixes to your own words (which I suspect is where fan-terms like āfederajiā come from).Ā
My headcanon is that when they recorded the episodes, there is a universal translator embedded in the recording equipment, and which settings it is on is chosen by the director for the purposes of his or her artistic vision for the episode. Thatās why we hear Klingons speaking English - except when we donāt.Ā
Thereās a whole other set of settings when it comes to numbers and units of measurement etc, which I may or may not get to in another note. For now, suffice it to say that the settings that both Garak and Julian use translate numbers automatically, but leave the units untranslated. So if I had those settings, and I were to travel from the US to the UK and hear people talking about a heat wave of 39 degrees, my translator would not automatically translate the centigrade to the 102.2 degrees fahrenheit Iād be able to picture - Iād hear 39 degrees and have to learn just how hot that actually is.Ā
I think, as xenophiles, both Julian and Garak would find that appealing.
#Anzoni worldbuilding#excessive worldbuilding#I know you're coming from AO3#Universal Translator#star trek headcanon
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DP x DC Prompt #88
Superman didnāt know how to handle having a clone. He was fighting the urge to get close to Kon, guide him in a way no one had been able to Clark, with feeling violated every time he saw the boy. He didnāt want to hate Kon, but he didnāt know how to balance his own emotions.Ā
When Clark admits this to Batman, he suggests someone who can help: Phantom. Dani Phantom.
#finemeal prompt#dp x dc#superman#clark kent#dani phantom#i just think there's a lot of personal feelings clark has about kon#and instead of hating on clark for having emotions and not knowing how to deal with them#we have some compassion#plus in young justice he does come around and try to have a relationship with kon#he just struggles#and that's so real of him#i love you superman#you're trying your best#also i feel like dani would be able to help him from a clone's perspective#and maybe one day he'd have a conversation with danny#who knows#this was inspired by a fanfiction#The Prettiest Star by DisillusionedDanny#it's on ao3#look it up#it's so good#there's a scene in there that inspired this prompt#you'll know it once you see it#dis you're literally so talented and i love that fic btw
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#some thoughts incoming idk if i should share but i need to put them somewhere#it's hard being in the yr fandom since the finale when you don't share the same vision and opinion as the rest#and people make future wilmon posts or write post s3 fics (which many exist now) they just don't align with your idea at all#and they're not exciting to me at all and the whole concept just makes me upset#i don't wanna imagine Wille as a 'normal' person (not that that's ever possible anyway which the show loves to ignore)#like I'm sorry but i didn't come to the show to watch an ordinary love story and have them lead an ordinary life#the idea of Wille being a future king and them navigating that royal life together is so much more interesting#i hate that that isn't canon anymore and when ppl make posts about them it's not about that or that would only be seen as a negative thing#i don't wanna imagine a life where they are 'normal' that isn't appealing to me at all and it sucks seeing everyone embrace it#and it's like you're not allowed to want something else or think differently bc that makes you the bad person and you're just wrong#i can't be excited about their future (also bc i don't really see them going strong in the future with how they messed them up in s3)#(i also didn't want to know what could possibly happen in the future i wanted that to stay open and just be in the present)#and seeing everyone else excited and happy about it makes you feel horrible and very alone and disconnected in the fandom#i don't wanna take it away from them but i also would love to see other takes but that's basically impossible now#am i the only person who feels this way or are there any other who can relate? pls let me know#i already feel like ppl are gonna attack me for this but it's been hard especially now with Simon's month and seeing so many interpretation#navigating ao3 has also become difficult now#it's hard finding fics to read where wille stays crown prince and you don't have to be scared for that to change#i just can't read any canon compliant fics anymore and i hate it bc i hate to disagree with canon#i normally don't do that bc canon is important to me and i don't want to reject it and create my own fantasy#and that's what's upsetting#anyway sorry i had to write this#personal
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going crazy. goobbye.
#the scanner really shows off how bad this paper smudgesss#got a moleskine from the op shop and am very excited about the storyboard page layout and paper thickness. but its a smudgey guy.#anyway. what#i KNOW ppl ship them i know you're out there come party with me. and get them to double digits on ao3.#ive seen a couple ship names but i just keep calling them jo'shea in my head...#which is arguably a terrible ship name when two of the main guys names start with j but also who is out here shipping john and molly.#anyway. they could've fixed each other#i mean obviously they DIDN'T#but y'know. under better circumstances. maybe#karen jones#molly o'shea#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#i literally actually don't know what ship name we use in tags lads. jo'shea it is#jo'shea#goes crazy goes insane. they kiss each other.#also btw btw it's cut off very slightly at the bottom but molly is standing on a thing okay she's not taller than karen. there's a thing#my art lol#click for quality PLEASE it's 600 dpi i promise#WAIT#mary beth gaskill#abigail marston#i forgot. they were there. got so caught up......
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your negative takes on recent tennis rivalries pleaseeeeššš
ps. youāre a treasure
okay so I'll do the copy paste thing from what I did just cut from the initial post, which was my polite 'I'm attempting to write a reasonably neutral post' approach
so, this may come as a shock, but obviously I'm a bit of a fan of rivalries. we do have some bangers in tennis history, rich narrative texts, but... well. the landscape out there hasn't been great for the past decade or so. sometimes you can get invested in match-ups between specific players that are fun to watch and interesting tennis-wise, but it's all very much about the sport rather than the personal relationships between the different players. I enjoy matches between all three or ryba, sabs and iga!! but also. they are coworkers. you do kindaaaa get the sense sabs and iga aren't particularly fond of each of other, but it's all perfectly cordial. again, the tennis is great, I support them in all their endeavours, but it's very much the tennis itself you need to look for for the drama (also they don't play each other as much as I'd like, but that's a conversation for a different day)
you do still sometimes get some fun beef but it's very much isolated dumb stuff like the fritz/rinderknech "have a nice flight home" thing. this isn't going anywhere story-wise but it's fun in the moment
speaking of men. obviously the most important rivalries for the last however many years have been between various big three/four members, and federer/nadal specifically is extremely popular. tennis-wise, I still think federer/djokovic was the most fun match-up, and at least there was a little tension there because federer used to hate djokovic. they've played a lot of matches that are worth watching!! also they've finally mostly retired so it's not super relevant any more, but well tennis fans as a collective are very big three-pilled so you'll hear a lot about these blokes
and now there's alcaraz/sinner. they've only really had one match that was good start to finish (uso 2022), but definitely some fun ones (miami 2023 and wimbledon 2022 are probably the other ones that stand out, their most recent match was very much in the 'long does not equal good' category). plus, they're quite good at producing highlight reel content, like this one point everyone remembers (shown here from every angle... tennistv produces longer videos for single points than the wta releases for most finals). it's an interpersonally warm rivalry between two young guys who are both very successful and will presumably win everything for the next decade. again, I'd suggest trying to become a fan of one of those two
this was the polite way of phrasing it!! everything below here is quite rude and negative, peace and love to all
okay, let's ditch the thin veneer of neutrality, here's what I actually think: it is completely baffling to me how popular quite a few of these rivalries are, I don't get it, I have never understood it, I will never understand it. tennis went 'what if we had rivalries without narrative tension' and everyone just kinda rolled with that? mind you federer/nadal early confrontations were happening at the same time as clijsters/henin, who were like?? dude it got so bad henin said she had never been friends with clijsters so nothing clijsters and her father said could hurt her ("nothing was broken between us because there was nothing to break" ???? ffs). which is obviously not true!! but it's so... she denied the friendship ever existed and called it all pr like that's so SAD! look, this is beside the point, I'm not talking about henin/clijsters here, I do understand why people aren't that into a rivalry that was at its peak like two decades ago and federer/nadal were still playing slam finals in 2k17 (a dark dark time for some fans, federer had already HAD his decline and then he was suddenly winning slams again like tf). and to some extent I go 'well clearly people will just be into anything if you have two successful blokes' but there's clearly quite a lot of genuine passion there? like I'm not denying the passion EXISTS, people do clearly care about these guys, it's not all a psyop by Big Fedal who have suckered people into caring for these two dudes. and I'm not denying the tennis is great! I still personally prefer the match-ups that involve djokovic, and also the match-ups that involve none of those three, but fundamentally I have been watching these matches for like!! so many years! it's part of my childhood, I have enjoyed plenty of these matches, the tennis is obviously otherworldly. I have hot takes on a bunch of their matches, I can have the goat debate with you, I can give you the rundown on surface-specific match-ups and how long since nadal won a set on hard court against djokovic and federer's peak year domination rate and what they all did at madrid and blue clay and yec and golden masters and all that shit, of course it's part of my dna as a tennis viewer too!! I did usually have a slight order of preference in my head when I was watching big three match ups to have someone to root for (it's different now but back when I was a kid it was djokovic > nadal > federer, these days federer's redeemed himself a little bit in my eyes by having the decency to retire and I was radicalised against nadal). but like!! what's the narrative hook! I need somebody to explain to me what the story here is. these guys are all very good at tennis and they are racking up their titles and it's so!! whatever!! no tension no arc no real interpersonal development once federer stopped being so bitchy about djokovic. twenty plus slams who CARES, what are they doing this for! it's all so?? ugh
anyway now that I've taken a potshot at the most popular rivalry in men's tennis, I should quickly back it up by saying I feel almost the exact same way about the second most popular one (at least on tumblr) and also feel nothing for alcaraz/sinner. that one was still like... vaguely palpable? when alcaraz was clearly a way better player but struggled in that match up and also was way more invested in the rivalry than sinner was. but well, sinner is world number one now so THAT'S been ruined. again, sit me down and explain to me what the narrative stakes here are. like, if sinner wins that roland garros match, he'll be fine? alcaraz will be fine? everyone will be fine? their relationship is basically 'friendly coworkers', zero chance of anything more substantial developing there. now, don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna pretend like I'm massively into the current state of the women's game when it comes to rivalries either, but at least I have a base level of fondness there for the top players and am ideologically inclined to hype up any rivalries there whenever they come along. also, quite frankly, it DOES matter viscerally more to them!! iga spends a lot of her time kinda like,,, on the edge, the way she was in tears when getting physio after the naomi match, united cup last year, a bunch of her 2021 matches, like she's so intense and so tightly strung on the court that you do really get the sense that a loss could just cause her to have an existential crisis. there's so many unanswered questions about her ultimate potential off clay, I'm still proper curious about her story develops. and then with aryna, she's obviously ALSO so intense but in a different way, and she feels every single emotion so completely and entirely and iga has beaten her in one of those infamous semifinal chokes and it's kinda... you know, aryna also feels like she has something to prove, and you can tell they both really really want to beat each other. there's something there!! it's something real! I'm always seated whenever we actually get to see them play
that being said, yes, obviously I do think we're not exactly peak rivalry potential in either gender. the men's is more egregious because the way the game has shaken out since like,,,, 2004, is incredible top level domination by just a few guys. and now, yes, I'm aware I'm a fan of another sport where this was also incredibly true. but. the key difference is that the aliens had the decency to not be so fucking boring about it. sure on paper they were as a PACK winning everything, but good lord were they screaming crying throwing up whenever things went mildly wrong for them. like!! they despised each other and they needed to beat each other, which makes ME care!! I'm not saying I NEED rivals to hate each other, though it sure does help for my investment levels, but I need a narrative hook! borg/mcenroe had a narrative hook, evert/navratilova had a narrative hook (unfortunately that narrative hook these days is 'being united in transphobia'), agassi/sampras had one HELL of a narrative hook. noughties wta tennis about fifty million narrative hooks!! when I watch alcaraz/sinner, I just try and enjoy the tennis (though their roland garros match was mid as shit so what's that all about) but like... I don't care? or I care because one of them has pissed me off recently. I do fundamentally watch most of men's tennis as a hater, and admittedly this is accumulated bitterness over way too many years, but I do also think it's frustrating! tennis gets in its own way with this whole gentleman's sport business, the amount of wanking people do over federer/nadal in particular is truly insufferable... this is a sport filled with millionaire tax evaders and they'll have you believe that smashing a racquet is not only not fun (obviously it is) but also some kind of arbiter of morality. congrats to nadal for not smashing a racquet in his career!! could we please get his thoughts on gender equality in prize money? oh... okay. hm. this isn't supposed to be some gotcha, these guys all suck. but ultimately I would prefer not to engage with this sanitising and pearl clutching, given they do all suck, over shit that fundamentally does not matter while giving them a pass over all the stuff that DOES and instead maybe just have some fun. maybe you need to be single-minded and kind of dull to be good at men's tennis these days, maybe it's inevitable, doesn't mean I don't find them boring and pointless. there's some people who just enjoy like,,, watching greatness, endlessly racking up numbers and reaching the pinnacle of the sport or whatever, that's not me, I need there to be a story
thing is, right, obviously I'll still watch these matches (though I have massively turned it down this year, especially on the men's side - I did have a kind of breaking point this january where I was like 'wow I don't think I can ever care about anything any more?' and broadly speaking this has proved to be correct). I've tried hard to like a lot of these men because, god knows, it'd be a way more pleasant experience if I could trick my brain into it, but I can't! I think they're dull! fundamentally I'm too embedded in this world to ever be able to leave it. but I think it's funny when fans go 'oh people who are into drama don't appreciate the actual sport' like buddy I can basically guarantee I know more about the sport than you do. I Just Think that actually interpersonal relationships do also enhance the actual sports, like this shit is a conversation right,,, it has its history, it's a development over time in terms of your tactics and your knowledge of your opponent's tactics and so on, your expectations going into every match. when you have an interesting interpersonal dynamic, the sport also becomes more interesting... it's actually pretty straightforward lol. a lot of tennis is in the head, rivalries are also in the head, you're playing the other guy (gender neutral) as much as you are the actual ball. I get super annoyed by fans who are too busy being nostalgic to actually enjoy the players we have now, and I really don't like it when people call iga boring for instance, but I do also have a little bit of that. love the game, hate a lot of the players, simple as. bring back agassi calling his pet parrot more interesting than sampras in his autobiography, we used to be a proper sport
#an exciting post because any potential readers either a) don't know what tf I'm on about or b) hate most of what they just read#I just googled like. rankings of tennis rivalries out of curiosity#and I just found one that had murray/djokovic above the williams sisters which... no? obviously not?#how do NONE of these have clijsters/henin like come on. you people all suck#if feminism were real they would have fifty million fics on ao3#agassi's 1995 had more narrative juice than most of these fuckers can manage in a lifetime#//#batsplat responds#gonna do the other tennis asks tomorrow because I did realise I wanted to add. one or two things to those too#this is still the toned down version like some of my messages include some proper nasty rants but that's. not going public#this is obviously NOT going in the main tennis tag... eh. I'll come up with my own at some point#my most toxic tumblr trait is following a bunch of people for motorsports purposes#and then having a 'one strike and you're out' policy for any tennis I see from anyone who isn't a mutual#get that shit OFF my dash I do NOT want to see it#well I suppose I wouldn't unfollow for women's tennis but I never see that now do I
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STOP MAKING "PLACEHOLDER FICS" ON AO3 FOR YOUR WORK IN PROGRESS. AO3 IS AN ARCHIVE. IT IS NOT A FYP. THERE IS NO "TAGGING FOR REACH". IT IS BY DATE AND TIME OR RELEVANCE.
WRITE WHAT YOURE GOING TO WRITE AND THEN POST IT. EDITING YOUR PLACEHOLDER DOES NOT PUT IT BACK ON THE FRONT PAGE.
#ao3#fanfiction#archive of our own#idk where this trend is coming from#but it really drives me insane to see a fic posted with less than 14 words#and all it says is āthis is a placeholder for my upcoming fic...ā#thats not how this works#that isn't what an archive is#and then will complain that their fic isnt getting the attention it deserves#this is why#youre editing something that was posted weeks ago and now its pages and pages down in the archive#of course nobody is seeing it#or worse#you're getting muted/blocked by anyone seeing it because its basically spam#there's no need to overcomplicate this.#post when you're ready and tag properly#you don't need to ask who all is interested in what youre writing before you write it#write it for you!! be self indulgent!!#there are people out there that will read it i promise#but make sure it sees the light of day so that people know it's there!!#okay im done
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I'm sorry but my comments is generic and if that makes me look like a bot then I may as well stop. Because I do not have the mental capacity to think up something unique for every comment I write, or to try and recall what line I liked or something about a character. I just want to give the writer the added encouragement when I read, usually re-read and therefore can't leave kudos, but that is unwelcome now I guess.
Hi anon. I'm sorry you feel that way, but that's not what was said. You don't have to leave something unique for every comment you write! You don't have to try and recall anything complex if you can't! We're not expecting complete originality - of course not! And no comment is unwelcome. We just want to know you're not a bot.
What I said was, word for word:
Readers: if you comment like this usually, add in some identifying detail from the fic (a character name, a line you liked, the name of the fandom, etc.). Don't let this stop you from commenting, please!
What this means is:
Write the comment exactly the way you would normally. Then, if you want to, before you hit post, add in one identifying detail. Even by tacking it on the end, if you like.
(Pro tip: Ought always implies Can. What that means is, if something says 'do this' and your response is 'I can't', then that suggestion wasn't for you.)
Examples using modified versions of the comments from the original post:
Fantastic story! I couldn't stop reading it, and the character development was incredibly engaging, especially for [Crowley]. Bravo!
The way you describe the settings is incredibly vivid. I felt like I was right there with [Aziraphale and Anathema], experiencing everything. Fantastic writing!
The dialogue in this fic is so natural and true to the characters. It felt like I was eavesdropping on their conversations, especially the [dolphins] one. You've captured their voices perfectly.
Or alternatively, add one of these onto whatever you wrote otherwise:
(Not a bot, btw. Thanks for writing for the [Good Omens] fandom!)
My favourite line was "[pasted line you highlighted and copied while reading]".
The [Good Omens] fandom is so lucky to have you!
I love [Madame Tracy] so much!!!
(The bits in bold are my additions to the originals. You would just swap out the [bracketed] sections for the identifying detail relevant to the fic. Very minimal changes to the comments as they existed, but immediately more personal.)
That's it! That's all that was suggested.
Again, suggested. Sorry if you thought anything else, but this is fandom and everything you do here is completely up to you. This is advice! It's not compulsory! Not mandatory! Not essential! Just a nice idea to stop a writer from worrying that you're a bot and fearing that their fic was just scraped for an ai.
And I've said it before, but I'll say it again - if you don't have the energy for actual sentences, that's fine!! Emojis are a fantastic way of getting your emotions across, and the bots aren't using them yet. They also appear to be going for dictionary words, so keyboard smashes ("asdfghjkl") and extended screaming ("aaaaahhhhh oh my goddddd") are also great! As are "extra kudos" or "came back for a re-read, thank you again!" or "re-read number five, this fic is incredible" or whatever else. We're not expecting essays. (They're appreciated when they show up, of course! But never expected.) We just want to know there's a real person there.
Anon, I'm sorry you feel dispirited by my comment on that post. But I hope this makes it clear that you're not required to do anything at all if you really don't want to. It was just a simple idea to help someone out. I (and others in the notes on that post) thought it would just be a nice gesture to save an author from stress, if you can.
Please keep commenting. If you don't have the mental capacity to change what you're doing, then don't. But if you do, adding just a couple of words can make all the difference.
#commenting#ao3#ai bots#I'm not trying to be mean anon I'm genuinely trying to explain the logic. it really doesn't have to be complicated!#and your current method of commenting isn't doing anything wrong! it's just nice to know from a glance that you're a real person#if you want to keep going the way you are then please do! as i said Don't let this stop you from commenting#it's just a suggestion of something quick and simple you can do to bring joy to someone's day. like comments are meant to do.#sorry if this comes across patronising. I'm really not trying to insult anyone. I'm just sleep deprived and trying to be understood#however you comment is valid! and please do keep commenting even if you change nothing about how you do it! please!#there's already such a lack of comments in fandom. please don't stop if you already are commenting#all I'masking is that *if you can* you add in a character name instead of 'character' or the specific setting instead of 'setting' or or or#okay i'll shut up now#comment on fanfiction!#please#response to anon
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How I learned to write smarter, not harder
(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)
A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.
The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.
As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!
Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!
2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)
Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.
Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.
I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.
Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!
This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.
As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.
When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD
People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.
What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!
What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.
You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.
And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.
And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.
If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?
And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD
In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.
Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.
Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)
And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)
#creative writing#writers block#writblr#writers on tumblr#writing#writers and poets#writerscommunity#fanfic writing#writeblr#writing advice
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been debating on what to say for longer than i've expected, going anon for this ( although i mayyy suspect you may already know who i am just by my writing style but- welp! xd ) ; if i say anything even remotely wrong, you are free to ignore this ask /gen
you're enough. i think one big step is learning you don't have to be enough for everyone else because it's impossible to do that. you can't please everyone, you can't not please everyone aswell ; 8 billion people in the world, it's almost destiny that atleast 100 of them will be bothered by your existence, and other 100 will not.
although, it's okay to feel that way. it's okay to feel like you have to please everyone, to feel like you have to make everyone happy, to feel worthless if that's not the case. it's okay and you're allowed to feel that way. you are not to blame for feelings that you cannot control.
i won't say i understand, but as a fellow people-pleaser, i can say that i can atleast get the feeling. and i want you to know that it's okay. feel free to open up, to be vulnerable, to cry, to feel worthless, to feel like you're not good enough, to feel like your entire existence is entitled to only making people happy - you're allowed to feel all of those things and more. that's okay.
embrace those feelings instead of shoving them away, be kind to yourself by allowing yourself to just feel. it's okay.
it's so easy to just say you're worth, but you're not gonna believe me if i say you are. so i ask you to say those things to yourself instead, and the multiple times you feel like that's just luck, or you're being a fraud ; that's when you know you're doing great. that's when you know you are worth much more than what that voice in your head tells you.
your worth as someone is much more than what your acchievements tells you ; accept yourself as someone who is allowed to feel, to mess up, to regret, to cry, to be successful, to be kind to oneself, to feel and be all of those things and more.
that can be quite hard to do, but look how far you've gotten. you're still here, aren't you? easier said than done, i know. and it won't get easy, not even one bit - but, and i mean it genuinely : you got this. you genuinely got this.
not sure what to say anymore, so i'm just gonna say that i'm here if you wanna talk. my dms are open for you , and i will be there to give my support to you just as much as i can.
<- sincerely, a moot.
...
hey. thanks. /gen
I'm surprised that you even bothered to write out the message. it's odd because I had a weird thought of "they'll just ignore it"/"I want someone to notice this."
I'm still here. Yeah. That is something.
(Holy shit you made me cry with this /gen /pos)
I think I've grown relatively desensitized to people caring about me (not because of them, but because I've truly forgotten what it's like to have someone actually comfort you, especially when said person barely knows you.) but I seriously, seriously appreciate people (like you!) that bother to send me messages like this.
it does help make things better. like- seriously.
(still somewhat in shock because why would anyone care about how I'm doing and take time out of their day to write or do anything for my sake?) but I want to say this did make me feel a lot better. not okay, but a lot better. /gen /pos
be kind to yourself. now hang on a minute didn't I write something literally about this-
oh. i guess i'm just not taking my own advice.
#ghost's smol ask box#ghost vents to the void#for the record: yeah. i do know who you are. most likely.#and i want to thank you. i know i did but thank you. thank you.#my blog is currently titled as āimposter syndrome. stop coming in uninvited.ā and it sums it up pretty well#it would be so easy to just tell someone to stop. like snap your fingers and suddenly you can internalize the fact that#you are enough and you deserve everything#but it isn't as easy as just saying it to someone#it's so easy to judge people who have a depleted sense of self-worth from an outsiders perspective#and go: āpsh- why is this person bending over backwards to please everyone? they are clearly good enough.ā#āall of the validation they could ever get is right there in front of them." (even if it's more complicated than that)#*cough cough*#i might not just be talking about me here. there's a certain someone who this also may or may not apply to (try and guess who)#problem is: even if the whole world tells you that you're good <- highly unlikely you'll still see yourself#as undeserving and worthless and everything inbetween#validation/approval addiction is very much a thing and even at the end of the day you KNOW you can't please everybody#you still try even though it's a lose-lose situation at the end.#oopsies i turned this into rambling lol currently trying to get back to writing on ao3 but i'm contemplating deleting all the things#people might not like or might be sick of.#...OH NO-#did the new episode teach me NOTHING š#but i'm being serious. this takes so long to try and untangle. especially when your entire life feels like to please people for your worth#maybe i'll write something about it. idk.#it's really hard to be kind to yourself. but I'm trying. /gen#i wish younger me can hear this. they seriously need this.
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Do you have an ao3 account? Even if it is just for bullet point fic's I would love to read your stuff there.
I do not, might make one at some point tho. Probably going to if I keep making parts lol
#you're funny if you think i know how to write on AO3 everything I post on Tumblr comes from is is written on tumblr#AO3 scares me a little
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Why six is an important number in Anzoni culture
Back on the subject of the ridiculous amount of math-based worldbuilding I ended up doing for a simple Star Trek: Deep Space 9 fanfiction, we get to the part that doesnāt really come up much all in this first fic. Because, with the number settings that both Garak and Julian keep their universal translators on, any numbers they hear are going to be automatically rendered in the base ten number system that is ubiquitous in the Federation. I donāt actually KNOW if Cardassians use base ten or not, but at the least as someone who does a lot of trade with multiple species and cultures, Garak is quite familiar with it. For that reason, the way that the Anzoni people THINK of numbers isnāt going to come up much in the main fic. But since sixes and twelves are really important numbers in Anzoni culture (hence the sixth anniversary being a big deal), I think itās relevant enough to put this out there now.
--- --- ---
Because itās really practical for mental math, the Anzoni number system is built around base twelve, which the universal translator calls dozenal. The base place values (each twelve times the previous place value) are ones, dozens (12), grosses (144), zengrosses (1728), grubbs (20736), tooks (248832), thags (2,985,984) and buches (35,831,808).Ā
Ones, dozens and grosses are the actual English terms, a zengross is my coinage and comes from a dozen grosses, and the last four are from Bilboās birthday party speech in The Fellowship of the Ring (book version), in which he mentions the number 144 and refers to it as a gross. Grubbs and Tooks are the family names of guests, and Thag and Buch come from his recounting the time in the Hobbit when, on his fiftieth birthday, he had a terrible cold was unable to say much beyond āthag you very buch.ā
In practical terms, this means that Anzoni people think of numbers in clusters of 12. We actually do that too, in the right contexts. So a carpenter might think of a window as being 54 inches across, but in their head, theyāre probably picturing it in terms of four and a half feet. If your tape measure reads 306 inches, youāre probably more interested in the side that says 25 feet 6 inches.Ā
Iām not going to get into the details of how to translate back and forth between dozenal and base ten, because if youāre mathy enough to follow it, youāre probably mathy enough to either already know, or interested enough to google it and learn how from someone whoās a lot better at explaining than I am.Ā
A side effect of using base twelve instead of base ten, the Anzoni people are all really comfortable with mental math (when youāre just dividing things into fractions of half and third and variations thereof, itās much easier to make a picture of what youāre working on, so itās easier to hold numbers in your head long enough to manipulate them at will). While they recognize that other species often have a hard time sorting out numbers in their heads, the skill is so ubiquitous that NOT being good at it is as puzzling as someone being illiterate is in our culture. So theyāre always amused at aliens who get lost on the simplest of sums.
#Anzoni worldbuilding#excessive worldbuilding#mathy worldbuilding#I know you're coming from AO3#base twelve for mental math
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WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST
Welcome to Whumptober 2024 ā Seventh Time's a Charm!
Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.
This yearās AO3 Collection can be found here.
This year's playlist can be found here.
The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.
And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.
Weāre very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!
Best of luck and happy whumping,
Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro
(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)
Whumptober 2024 Prompt List
No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK
Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.ā (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)
No. 2: TRUST ISSUES
Amusement Park | Role Reversal | āYou got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.ā (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)
No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE
Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."
No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS
Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | āYou're still alive in my head.ā (Billy Lockett, More)
No. 5: SUNBURN
Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)
No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED
Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."
No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES
Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."
No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION
Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)
No. 9: OBSESSION
Broken Window | Bruises | āFrame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.ā (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)
No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD
Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."
No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE
Convenience Store | Loneliness | āLeave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.ā (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)
No. 12: STARVATION
Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."
No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY
Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)
No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD
Hunting Gear | Blackmail | āBecause I want you to know what it feels like to be hauntedā (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)
No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA
Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"
No. 16: NECROSIS
Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."
No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO
Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."
No. 18: REVENGE
Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | āI see what's mine and take it.ā (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)
No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL
Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)
No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST
Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."
No. 21: BODY HORROR
Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | āLet the bedsheet soak up the tears.ā (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)
No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES
Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."
No. 23: FORCED CHOICE
Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."
No. 24: RADIATION POISONING
Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | āI never knew daylight could be so violent.ā (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)
No. 25: SURGERY
Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."
No. 26: NIGHTMARES
Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | āI'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.ā (Poe, Haunted)
No. 27: VOICELESS
Laboratory | Muzzled | āI have no mouth and I must scream.ā
No. 28: DENIAL
CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."
No. 29: FATIGUE
Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"
No. 30: RECOVERY
Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"
No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP
Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)
Alternatives List:
Body Swap
Communication Barrier
Finding Old Messages
Forgotten
Friendly Fire
Motion Sickness
No-Holds-Barred Beatdown
Regret
Secrets Revealed
Shivering
Survivor's Guilt
Time Loop
Used As Bait
Venom
Vermin
Event Info & Rules
WHUMPTOBERĀ is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There areĀ 31 official themesĀ this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way youād like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you donāt have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is āflame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an āold flameā - an old relationship. Itās truly down to you!
In total, there areĀ 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.Ā We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.
Creators canĀ PRODUCEĀ work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators canĀ PARTICIPATEĀ as much or as little as they want (i.e. you donāt have to do ALL the prompts if you donāt want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.
When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:
#whumptober2024 ā¦..(the event tag)
#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, ā¦..(theme number)
#bruises, #stabbing, ā¦..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)
#altprompt ā¦..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)
#fandom or #OC, ā¦..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)
#medium ā¦..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)
#teeth, #etc ā¦..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add ātwā in front but only use the word/trigger itself)
#nsfwhump ā¦..(only for nsfw content)
#your own tags go here
PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the officialĀ @whumptober-archiveĀ blog. They must be tagged in the order above.Ā An elaborate post about our tagging system can be foundĀ [here]
Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.
Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are consideredĀ event completionistsĀ and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.
Frequently Asked Questions
Please read this before you send an ask!
TIMELINE
July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. Itās up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.
PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION
Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this yearās prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? Weāll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And youāre not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if youāre writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, itās okay if that fic isnāt finished by the time October ends, youāll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though itās only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.
PROMPTS
Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you donāt like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a characterās mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as youād like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you donāt have to produce 31 separate works.
WORKS
Q: Whatās whump? Hurting a character, whether thatās physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if itās whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic āwhumpee,ā OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything weāre not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, itās fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.
POSTING
Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You donāt even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if itās not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldnāt it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We wonāt be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a dayās themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. Weāll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, thatās fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! Weāve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (donāt out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).
Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!
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Hey author, did you really have to punch me in the heart like that?
And do it again? And again? In fact, tore my soul apart by the seams.
Y'know what, just entirely incinerate me won'tcha?ā annnd I'm outta tags. Aw dang it.
And JESUS the artwork for this, Gods./pos
A picture is a moment in time captured forever - A reminder of the key events in your life, preserved for eternity. As you gaze into the past, you might even feel like you can reach through the frame and pull those feelings, those events, those people back into the present.
Thanks to The Second Coming, this feeling becomes reality for Mango, giving him a second change he'd never thought possible. Together with Purple and his past self, he may be able to change fate and have his whole family together. Of course, things are never that easy. Especially when the sins of the past still hang heavy over his head.
------------------
With a single click, the moment was captured forever.
Mangoās kid, his shimmering Gold, grinned brightly at the lens from her spot on top of the podium, arms stretched up to triumphantly display her silver trophy. Sheād been disappointed to have lost the final round of the tournament, of course, but the young stick had always rebounded quickly. Sheād wiped her eyes, offered a handshake to the kindly Ruby kid whoād won, and accepted her place on the second highest podium with victorious pride.
The picture Mango took was glorious; not quite as precious as the real sight of his childās accomplishment, but it would serve as a fond reminder. A window back on this precious day for years to come, even long after his child was grown and far from his side. A wistfulness grew in the tall stickās chest at the thought. The day heād be without his child was still a long ways away, but he knew heād never be prepared for Goldās inevitable departure from the nest and into the greater world. He couldnāt even begin to imagine a life without her.
āWoohoo!ā The excited proclamation broke the older stick from his thoughts, looking down at his child just in time to see Gold kick open the front door of their abode. A broad, excited grin stretched from cheek to cheek across her face, illuminating the room like the little ray of sunshine she was. The trophy in her hands was thrust up into the air above her head as Gold continued to cheer, exclaiming wordlessly in her zealous excitement.
Mango took a moment to chuckle at his childās antics before switching into dad mode to parent her out of this sudden hyperactive state, setting his camera aside for the moment to focus entirely on the present Gold. āEasy there, honey.ā He gently scolded, taking the trophy into his own arms. It wasnāt particularly large, only about as long as Mangoās forearm, but it was more than heavy enough to break something if Gold got overexcited and began swinging it around. āLetās put this somewhere we can show it off, eh?ā
As he spoke, Mango hoisted the trophy onto the nearby bookshelf, where the sunlight from the window caused the metal to sparkle. It stood tall and proud, glittering silver standing out against the more earthy tones of their living room.
āOkay, okay!ā The young stick agreed, a bubbly laugh mixed in with her words. She bounced on her heels as she gazed up at the silver trophy. āBut Iām not stopping here! Next tournamentās in six months, and this time-ā Her first pumped excitedly in the air, ā-Goldās going for the gold! Youāre gonna be so proud!ā
āIām already proud!ā Mango insisted joyfully, delighting in Goldās squeal as he scooped his kid into a firm embrace and spun them around, āYou worked so hard for this, Iād be proud even if you got last place!ā
Goldās only response to Mangoās praise was to continue to laugh, pretending to struggle in his hold while reveling in the twirling motions. He brought them down slowly, gently, only releasing her when her feet touched the ground. She bolted from his hold as soon as she could, little firecracker that she was. How Gold could still have so much energy after a fifteen-round tournament was beyond Mangoās comprehension. Just watching that final round had made Mango tired.
But still, he kept his chin up as he informed the younger stick, āAfter all that hard work today, I think itās only fair that I let you choose dinner tonight. You can have anything you want-ā
āSecret ingredient pie!ā Gold cheered, throwing her arms up in celebration.
Mango frowned, annoyed for more reasons than that heād have to throw together the family-famous, overly complicated secret ingredient pie. ā-Anything you want thatās an actual dinner food.ā He amended. āIāll make the pie for dessert later, but you need to eat real food too, honey.ā
āAww.ā Gold groaned, momentarily put out, before springing right back up. āTacos, then?ā
āTacos sound good.ā Agreed Mango, already compiling a list of ingredients in his head. āIāll need to grab a few things from the store, but that shouldnāt take too long-ā
āWait!ā
Mango had not taken but three steps towards the door when his childās call caused him to spin around. She barreled towards him, the discarded camera clutched in her hands, and her skid to a stop came a few seconds too late, resulting in Mango having to reach out and steady her before she bowled him over. Gold didnāt miss a beat, immediately hopping back and holding out the camera for her father to take.
āWe gotta take one more picture!ā The younger stick insisted, āYou took like a million pictures of me at the tournament, but we donāt have any of us together!ā
Taking the camera, Mango briefly flicked through the photos and found that Gold was right: though he had taken plenty of her preparing for the tournament, at least one from each match, and had those perfect, precious shots of Goldās triumphant smile at the podiums, there were none of the two together. Of course there werenāt. This was Goldās special moment, Goldās time to shine, and the fact that her only complaint of the day (besides no pie for dinner, which was just typical kid nonsense) was that her dad wasnāt sharing in this victory with her wasā¦ just so Gold.
How a stick like him ended up with a kid like her heād never know.
āSo we donāt!ā Mango agreed lightheartedly, playfully tussling the kidās hair. āGo get your trophy, weāll take one real quick before I head out.ā
While she did just that, Mango took the time to adjust the settings on the camera so the indoor photos wouldnāt be too dark to see. Mango heard her thundering footsteps approach before he was ready to look up. Gold, the little rascal that she was, pressed the cold metal of her trophy into the side of Mangoās face as she whined at him to hurry it up. Mango chuckled at her, chiding her gently even as he obeyed her request.
His arm outstretched to put some space between them and the camera, Mango alerted his child he was ready with a simple, āSay cheese!ā
Trophy held high above her head, Gold cheekily replied, āMascarpone!ā
A click, a flash, and the moment was captured forever.
Gold snatched the camera out of Mangoās hand before he could move it back, trophy quickly discarded on the ground, and the older stick could only shake his head in response to her overeager antics. Her bright smile shined brilliantly as she gazed down at the photo, but in the span of a few seconds it grew duller and duller, until her smile transformed into a confused frown and her eyes reflected apprehension.
As a father, Mango was well aware that he had a weakness for his childās frown. Logically he knew that he couldnāt just magically make everything in her life all sunshine and rainbows all the time. That just wasnāt realistic. But knowing this didnāt stop the curdling in his stomach at the thought that something in her life just wasnāt perfect, or the urge to fix it, no matter what it took.
āHoney?ā He asked gently, āWhatās the matter? Did the photo not come out right?ā He leaned over her shoulder to take a look himself.
Gold didnāt resist, tilting the camera so her father could see the picture. āThereās something else in the background. I thought it might be a smudge, butā¦ it has eyesā¦ā
Mango didnāt need his child to point out the problem with the picture ā he could easily see it for himself. At first glance it did indeed look like a bit of grime had gotten on the cameraās lens, but a closer look indicated that this wasnāt the case. The top of the figure looked like a stick, with a hollowed out head and brilliant emerald eyes, but the bottom half was more distorted, like a number of monstrous limbs sprouting out from their body in distorted blobs of flesh. Locking eyes with the figure caused Mangoās entire body to stiffen.
It was like it wasā¦ staring at him through the camera.
Unease stole the breath from Mangoās lungs, leaving him unable to vocalize his confusion. There was nothing like thatā¦ thing in their home. He was certain there wasnāt, even before he whipped his head around to stare at the spot in their kitchen where the figure would have been. Of course there was nothing there, just the scratched up kitchen table standing where it always did.
Now Mangoās expression matched his childās confusion, āWhat is that-?
A strange noise, like the distorted buzzing of television static, drew the tall stickās attention back to the photo. Mangoās breath stilled again, for an entirely different reason this time. The figure had moved. Its arm was stretched out towards them, hand open as if inviting the two sticks to take it, to pull them into that picturesque world with it and remain in that moment of time.
A chill ran down Mangoās spine. āDelete the picture. Now.ā
The sudden command ā or maybe the unnaturally stern tone in which it fell from Mangoās lips ā caused Gold to jump, briefly fumbling with the camera as her little fingers search desperately for the delete button. When Mangoās eyes connected again with the picture, he could feel his heart stop as the ghostly imageās eyes seemed to glow brighter, its hand extending to grab rather than invite. Goldās fingers found the delete button, but one tap did nothing. The second tap did nothing. Third, fourth, fifthā¦ Gold mashed the button repeatedly, but the picture remained, the figure remained, the emerald illumination of its eyes growing brighter and brighter, closer and closer-
āItās not working!ā Goldās obvious panic jolted Mangoās brain back into place and jump-started his fight-or-flight instinct. He snatched the camera out of her hand, noting how the glow of those eyes seemed to have reached the other side of the cameraās screen, threatening to melt through the frozen image and into reality. The only thing Mango could think to do was hurl the camera as far as he could and put himself between that ghoul and his kid, holding her close so that every inch of her was protected from the green light that had finally broken free of its glass prison. The emerald beam engulfed them both, expanding to completely swallow the father-child duo without even a second for them to move out of its way.
Then, in a flash, the green light vanished. All that remained of the Ochre family was a camera, cracked and abandoned on the floor of their small home.
-------------------
ā-And weāll finish this off with some fresh basil on top. Then, voila! The perfect lasagna!ā Mango concluded, sprinkling the green leaves atop the lasagna with a touch of dramatic flair. Purple, predictably, was enraptured by the showmanship, their eyes alight with enchantment as they clung to his every word. It was always like this with them, though ā whether it be cooking or fishing or whatever hobby of the week Purple had picked up, the kid would drag him through all of it with those same warm eyes, like the āOld Manā, as they oh so affectionately called him, could do no wrong. It melted Mangoās heart, and heād often wonder if Purple was doing this to him on purpose.
He wasnāt the same stick heād been on the day heād lost his child, and heād never be again, but slowly, surely, Purple was helping Mango grow into somebody new. That was a debt heād never be able to repay.
Purple hummed over the meal, inspecting it exaggerated scrutiny. āNot bad, not badā¦ā They agreed, nodding in approval, āBut itās missing a little somethingā¦ā
āOh?ā Mango cocked a brow at the younger stick. Knowing Purple, this could be a pleasant surprise worthy of a Michelin star restaurant, or the grossest thing heād ever put in his mouth. Never in his life did Mango think heād become a gambling man, and yet, here he was.
āYeah, I think it could use a littleā¦ā Purple quickly whipped a white bottle from behind their back. A wild grin spread across their face as they held it precariously over tonightās dinner, āMAYONNAISE!ā
āNO!ā Mango yelled back. He reached out to snatch the squeeze bottle, moving just slow enough for Purple to yoink it back with ease.
Vicious cackles fell from Purpleās lips. āIām kidding! Iām kidding!ā They assured him between chortles. The kid laughed like a jackal, far louder and scratchier than Goldās delicate giggles, but Mango still found it charming all the same. So much so that it took actual effort to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upward.
āYouād better be.ā Mango warned with faux gruffness in his tone. āYouāre enough of a heathen as it is. Thereās only so much blasphemy one stick can take in his own home.ā
āHmph.ā Purple huffed dismissively at him, the effect somewhat diminished by the wide grin they couldnāt keep off their face. āIf you ask me, you donāt blaspheme enough. Still,ā A subtle change in Purpleās demeanor signaled the end of the game. Mango let himself relax and lean against the counter, confident that Purple wouldnāt destroy their dinner now that theyāve had their fun, āwe havenāt even put this in the oven yet, and it looks incredible! I didnāt realize cooking was so much fun!ā
Honestly, neither had Mango, before Goldās presence had forced him to make the jump from an all-instant food diet to cooking from scratch. āItās quite relaxing.ā Mango agreed. āIf youāre interested, I can teach you to make all sorts of new stuff.ā
āOh?ā Purple glanced at him from the corner of their eye before looking down and beginning to play with the hem of their shirt, which Mango had quickly come to learn was something the kid did when they were nervous. It happened more or less whenever they tried to ask him for something, which just about broke Mangoās heart. āThen maybeā¦ maybe you could teach me how to make your secret ingredient pie?ā
Mango tried not to wince, but couldnāt help the sudden stiffening of his shoulders. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted from Purple to the picture hung beside them; The day of his last tournament, with the luster of Goldās second place trophy being completely out-shined by her smile as she playfully pushed the trophy into her fatherās face.
There were more differences between Purple and Gold than Mango could possibly count, but every day he seemed to find just as many similarities. One of which was their shared love for that confounded secret ingredient pie. It wasā¦ fine, as far as pies went. Sweet and soft, with a hint of tartness. Nothing you couldnāt get from any bakery standard fruit pie, and certainly not good enough to warrant the ridiculously complicated recipe that had been passed down through the generations of the Ochre family. And yet, somehow Mango had managed to end up with not one, but two kids who absolutely adored the taste of the stupid treat.
For every special occasion, little Gold would trail at his fatherās heels and tug at his pants, begging to lick the spoon or mix the filling. With age Goldās interest in the pie hadnāt wavered, begging time after time for her dad to teach him the recipe. But it was always such a pain, so Mango put it off. Not right now, heād say. Iāll do it later. Maybe next time, again and again, and thenā¦
And then Gold was gone. There would be no more ānext timeā.
Some part of Mango recognized that this was a chance to make up for his mistake, to knock away one of the many regrets he carried on his shoulders, and yetā¦
āWell, itāsā¦ a bit much for your first time baking.ā Mango waved away Purpleās request with a too wide smile. His cheeks hurt from forcing his grin so large. āWhy donāt we start with something simplerā¦ like cupcakes?ā
Purple deflated a little, but much like Gold before them, they bounced back quickly, matching his fake smile with a sincere, if mildly sad one. āI do like cupcakesā¦ā They brought their eyes up to meet Mangoās, and the sheer affection reflected back at him, even after being denied, was almost too much for his heart.
āThen we can make cupcakes tonight.ā Mango compromised, talking over the twisted wrenching of his heart. He then gestured over to the pile of dishes from their dinnertime prep work that laid in the sink. āAFTER you finish cleaning the kitchen, of course.ā
āAww, what?!ā Purple whined.
āWell, I warned you, didnāt I?ā Mango laughed off the complete horror on Purpleās face at the prospect of doing their daily chores. āI told you, āitās your turn to clean the kitchen, so think carefully about what we cookā, and you still chose lasagna for dinner.ā
An adorable pout was the only response Purple had for Mangoās proclamation, crossing their arms and glaring menacingly at the pile of prep dishes soaking in the sink. After a moment of the dishes not being intimidated into cleaning themselves, Purple spun around towards Mango and fluttered their lashes, sidling up to Mango and staring up at him with big, watery eyes. āOld man~!ā
āNo.ā Mango responded coolly, slipping and letting his smile show at Purpleās aghast expression.
āBut- but- we both made the mess, so we should both clean it up!ā They argued back.
Already the older stick was shaking his head. āNope. We already agreed on a chore schedule, and Iāve done all my chores for today, including cleaning up many of your messes. You canāt change the rules now just because they donāt suit you anymore.ā
With that the oven timer dinged, and Mango redirected his attention back to tonightās dinner. He slipped on a pair of oven mitts and delivered the lasagna to the oven, all the while Purple was muttering agitatedly behind him. āSo not fair.ā
āLifeās not fair, kiddo.ā Mango replied back, slamming the door to the oven shut. āGet used to it.ā
The kitchen then went silent, save for Purpleās irritated muttering, which in itself was slowly petering out. Mango liked to think that Purple was maybe going to accept their lot and just do the stupid dishes, but he knew that it was far more likely the kid had only shut up to try and scheme their way out of their chores. There were only so many ways one could escape the ever-present threat of dirty dishes, however, and Mango was confident enough in his counter-strategies to not pay Purple any mind, instead directing his attention to setting the table.
Peace reigned for only a short time in their home, however, before a cacophony of shouts and blur of colours tore through Mangoās kitchen like a tornado, sucking Purple in as the colourful gang that made up Purpleās friend group trampled through his kitchen. The five sticks emerged in waves; first Green and Red, leading the pack with enthusiasm and gusto as they embraced Purple eagerly. Following suit was the Yellow one, the bright kid to whom Mango had entrusted that stupid staff heād made, easily slipping behind the others to startle Purple with a poke to their back. Blue was next, a little slower but with no less fervor that her friends as she pulled Purple into a headlock to grace them with a playful noogie. Finally, there was Second. They hung back a little from their friends at first, only approaching the group once everyone had calmed down to throw their arm around Purpleās shoulders in greeting.
Now, Mango didnāt necessarily dislike the kids. He honestly thought their positive and forgiving nature was a good influence on Purple. That saidā¦ āHow the hell did you all get into my house?ā He demanded flatly.
Yellow grinned back at him, using Purple as an armrest to prop herself up. āYou left the front window unlocked.ā She informed him breezily, entirely too calm.
āI did not.ā Mango crossed his arms as he retorted, subconsciously bristling as five of the six kids began to snicker at him. The last one, Second, merely twiddled their thumbs in the back of the party, focused entirely on their fingers even as their entire body stood tensed behind the others.
āNot the bottom front window.ā Blue chimed in, pointing to the clerestory window just above the front entrance. Sure enough, the thing was open, but Mango was absolutely certain heād have heard the kids come in through that thing. They were many things, Purpleās friends. Subtle was not one of them.
Sharp squealing cut the conversation short, and before Mango could find its source Purple suddenly yelped and fell to the floor. Mangoās heart jumped into his throat, suffocating him for a prolonged, painful second before playful laughter restored his breath. In the middle of all that commotion, nobody had noticed the friend groupās infamous pig until it had tackled Purple to the ground to shower the young stick in licks and snuggles. Purple responded in kind, petting the pig atop its head with a little chuckle.
āWhoops!ā Red ran forward to scoop his precious pet up. āSorry Purple! Reuben hasnāt seen you in a while, so he got a little too excited, didnāt you boy?ā Redās voice went high-pitched and cooing as he praised his pig. āYes, you did! Yes you did, you silly little man!ā Purple could only laugh at the tone of Redās voice and continue to scratch the top of the pigās head.
As precious as the moment was, Mango couldnāt even bring himself to savour it before reality caught up with him. āOh no,ā He interrupted, pushing himself to the center of the crowd. āNo, you all know the rules: No Minecraft stuff on the main floor! Keep it in the basement, or take it home!ā
Red gasped, holding the pig close. āReubenās not a stuff! Heās a member of the family, arenāt you boy?ā Red scratched under the pigās head as Purple scratched its ears, utterly lavishing it in attention.
āI donāt care if its your twin!ā Interrupted Mango. āIām not getting arrested for video game smuggling because of you chuckleheads!ā Back during the āPlanā, Mango hadnāt really cared about taking such risks, but now he had something to lose if he went to jail. He was willing to make exceptions for Purple ā this was Purpleās home too, after all, and he could trust the kid to be careful with their elytra. The rest of the gang? Not so much. āIt stays in the basement, or it goes home. Pick one.ā
Red made a show of his reluctant acceptance, sighing theatrically as he picked up his pet. āIām so sorry, Reuben.ā Sobbed the sorrowful stick, clutching the pig close as if this were a eulogy and not just sticking it in the basement. āYouāre just too much pure goodness for thisā¦ sinful world!ā
The display had even Purple, monarch of melodrama themselves, rolling their eyes. āWeāll go down and spend some quality time with him later.ā They promised, āWe canā¦ uh, play catch?ā They suddenly looked a little lost, āDo pigs like catch?ā
This seemed to be enough to placate Red, for now. As they walked towards the basement, Mango turned to Yellow. āAnd you-ā
āStaffās already down there.ā Yellow promised, briefly flicking through her inventory to demonstrate its emptiness. āTeleported it when we got here, donāt worry.ā
That suited Mango perfectly fine. In addition to the whole not being arrested thing, heād rather not have to handle that staff again. It was a brilliant feat of engineering, a masterful display of game code. It was also the catalyst to a near apocalypse Mango himself had caused for the sake of punishing everyone ā anyone ā for Goldās fate. By the time heād realized what heād done, Mango had nearly lost a second child, and almost killed Notch knows how many innocents.
So, needless to say, heād prefer to not have to look at that thing.
By this point Red and Purple had returned, sans pig. Greenās elbow into his side and whisper into his ear caused Red to suddenly perk up, dour expression brightening exponentially as if suddenly reminded of something. Blue and Yellow, on the other side of Purple, exchanged a knowing look as they smirked at each other. And Second, whoād taken advantage of Redās scene to withdraw to the shadows behind the group, was suddenly pulled back to the forefront with the others.
Alarm bells once again rang in Mangoās head. āDid you kids, uhā¦ want to stay for dinner?ā A whole lasagna was probably enough to feed all seven of them. Though heād hoped to have leftovers for the next few days, Mango supposed he could make the sacrifice. For Purpleās sake. āWeāre having lasagna.ā
Blueās eyes immediately lit up in interest. āOoh~! Lasagna! Thatās a recipe I donāt have yet!ā As if by magic, a pencil and paper appeared in Blueās hands. āIāve been meaning to try recreating a dish from taste alone. I bet I can identify all the ingredients-ā
āThe food can wait!ā Unable to contain the excitement heād clearly been holding this entire time, Green finally let loose, cutting Blue off at the pass as his patience ran dry. He jumped on his heels before rushing towards Purple, taking the startled stickās hand to pull them forward. āWe came here because we have big news! Huge news! GIGANTIC news! And youāll never guess what it is!ā
Purple squirmed back and forth in the otherās hold. āUhhā¦ā They leaned away from Greenās entirely too close face, and Mango took that as his cue to intervene before the kid exploded from embarrassment or something.
āGo on, guess!ā Insisted the green stick, his hold on Purple not loosening until Mangoās firm grip pulled Purple out of the smog of excitement to get some calming fresh air.
Once he was certain Purple had gotten a gulp or two of tranquil space, Mango set the young stick down and directed his attention back to Green. āJust get to the point.ā Mango insisted for all of their sakes.
The denial didnāt do anything to diminish Greenās excitement, or the enthusiasm of the four fighters as they worked together to push Second into the limelight. Being thrust into the center of attention only caused the already nervous stick to grow ever more anxious, their entire body going stiff at the sudden sensation of eyes trained on them from every direction. Now, Mango didnāt know know these kids quite as well as Purple did, but heād squared off against Second more than once in his quest to destroy Minecraft, and the orange stick never showed fear like this, even when things were at there most dire. So what could be causing them such distressā¦? Combined with the excitement of the other four sticks, Mango could hear the alarm bells getting louder.
Oblivious to their friendās blatant discomfort, Green blurted out, āWe just found outā¦ that Sec has super powers!ā
Mango could feel his eyebrows skyrocket up as he stared at the excited group of children, mouth agape. At his side, he could hear Purple exclaim, āYo, what?!ā Followed by the sound of excited arm flapping.
Second scratched at the skin on their arm, holding themselves with all the rigid attention of a child at the principleās office. āYeah, heh. Surpriseā¦ā
āWhoa, thatās so cool!ā Purpleās proclamation only brought Second more discomfort, and Mango reached over to take hold of the kid and force them to calm down, lest the downcast and blushing Second keel over and die on the spot, but Purple slipped away before he could make contact. In a blink of the eye Purple was in Secondās face, bouncing energetically on their toes as they eagerly questioned, āWhat kind of powers? What can you do?ā
āOh, you know, just the typical stuffā¦ā Second trailed off, their eyes focusing on a spot on the ceiling instead of Purpleās wide, bright expression. āFlying, telekinesis, healing, electricityā¦ uh, eye lasersā¦ā
Each item added to the list only caused Purpleās smile to grow and grow, until a wide grin was stretched across their face. In any other circumstance such a look would cause Mangoās heart to melt, but at this moment it only caused an electric tingle along his spine to signify incoming danger. Flapping their arms again, Purple demanded, āYou HAVE to show them off!ā
A cacophony of agreements came from the rest of Secondās friends. They were all varying levels of excited; Green seemed most eager, strongly encouraging Second by lightly shaking their shoulder. Red squealed in open excitement, and Blue immediately started pleading with wide puppy-dog eyes. Only Yellow kept some modicum of self-control, but curiosity and excitement still lit up her eyes. Despite the discovery being fairly recent, it seemed none of these kids had any experience with Secondās powers, and that caused a pit of dread to form in Mangoās stomach. This was a recipe for disaster.
Hurriedly, he tried to speak up, āI donāt think-ā
Mangoās attempt to interrupt was completely bowled over by Purple in their excitement. āWhat should we have you do?ā They wondered aloud. āMaybe we can set up some targets for you to shoot down?ā The other kids seemed eager, nodding along to that idea. āOr you can race me flying with my elytra! Or-!ā Purple suddenly gasped, hands covering their mouth as they smiled wider, āOr you can use your powers to clean up our entire kitchen!ā
For a brief moment, annoyance trounced Mangoās anxiety, āPurple, thatās your chore for the day. You canāt just use your friends to do your chores for you.ā
Purple only paused to give Mango a smug, satisfied look, before completely disregarding his words. If anything, Mango was certain his disapproval had only prompted Purple to go ahead with the request. āPlease, wonāt you clean the kitchen? Pretty, pretty please?ā
The fluttering lashes and puppy dog eyes worked better on Second than Mango himself, but not quite enough to completely convince them. Conflict clear on their face, Second shrunk in on themselves and dug their nails into their arms. None the wiser to Secondās inner turmoil, each of their friends began pilling into them, begging incessantly.
āCome on, please~!ā Red whined, pulling on Secondās arm.
āIāll make you all the cookies!ā Blue promised from their other side, pushing her head into the crook of their neck. āLike, so many cookies!ā
āWith that much stuff? Itāll be epic to see if flying all around!ā Yellow mused. āI bet with enough practice you could pull off a āWizardās Apprenticeā!ā Her arms flapped at the thought, āOoh, man! That would be the coolest!ā
āYou gotta show Purple what you can do!ā Green pleaded, giving Second a sorrowful pout that would put even Purpleās best acting to shame. āPlease! Please! Please! PLEASE!ā
The kid demonstrated an iron will as they shook off their friendās clutching hands and pleading eyes to put some distance between them. āGuys, I dunnoā¦ā Second kept their eyes away from their friends, focusing instead on a spot on the wall. āIām still pretty new at thisā¦ and I donāt want to mess anything upā¦ā
Despite their clear reluctance, Secondās friends kept egging them on, and Mango stepped forward to put a hand on Secondās shoulder. āI agree.ā He stated, giving the kids a glare when they started to protest. āThese powers sound like theyāre still new, and using them so haphazardly would be blatantly irresponsible, especially for chores. You kids could stand to be a bit more thoughtful about this.ā
Mango looked down, prepared to reassure Second that they were indeed doing the right thing, only to find Second staring up at him. Their lips were pressed thin as they pierced him with a burning, non-laser glare for a long, long moment, as if trying to see into his very soul. After a moment, the orange stick turned back to their friends. āOn second thought, letās do it.ā
āWhat?!ā Mango shouted in disbelief, his exclamation drowned out by the cheers and hollers of the others. The rainbow whirlwind sucked Second back in and absconded to the center of the kitchen, their voices blending into a single tangle of noise as they discussed the upcoming show. The sudden change in Second caused Mango to freeze in place, staring stupidly after the group. Thisā¦ well, if Mango was being honest, this was far more like the Second he knew from their previous encounters than the skittish stick that had stepped into their home only a few minutes prior. But the fact that Second had even been that nervous to begin withā¦
Well, there was nothing else Mango could do but swallow his apprehension, make a silent vow to try reverse psychology on the rebellious brats next time, and trail after them.
By the time Mango had rejoined the group, the others had forcibly propped Second up onto the table Mango had just set like, not even ten minutes ago. Though clearly still wracked with nerves, they took a moment to gain their balance atop the structure, knees a little wobbly.
Despite the resistance heād faced previously, Mango tried one more time to talk sense into Purpleās friends. āYou donāt have to do this, you know.ā
Mango was surprised to see that Green was the first to turn to him, a fierce glare aimed directly at the protesting adult. Everyone else seemed to have varying levels of exasperation and confusion at Mangoās interference. After a moment of silence, Second responded. āYeah, I know. But itās fine. I can do this.ā Second looked down at their own hands, gaze unfocused. āI can do this.ā
Secondās eyes fell shut, and when they opened again, their natural green colour had sharpened into a bright, illuminating emerald shine. Electricity crackled and zapped as it crawled over their form, stretching away from Secondās body to spread across Mangoās kitchen. The faint scent of ozone began to permeate the air. Mango could feel static run across his exposed joints, causing him to shiver. After a moment of just this, Secondās body lifted off the table, hovering in the air a few meters above the floor. Soon enough, other things in the kitchen began to lift up as well ā the clean dishes on the dining table, the table itself, the chairs. In the span of maybe thirty seconds, everything in the kitchen lighter than the microwave was hovering weightlessly in the air, as though being touched by Secondās sparking power had turned off the gravity.
In spite of his early complaints, Mango couldnāt help the awe that washed over him as he took in the display of power. There was a pattern to the movement of the objects, to the flowing of electricity, that was nothing short of graceful. To his side, Mango could hear Red oohing and awwing over the display, drowning out Yellowās mumbling as she thought aloud to herself. There was buzzing on Mangoās other side as well; whispers between Blue and Purple as they observed the show. When he glanced over at the kids, Mango found Green also present at Purpleās side, watching Second with a painfully familiar expression. One Mango saw every time he looked at a picture of himself and his Gold: Pure, unadulterated pride.
Secondās power soon brought order to the chaos theyād made of Mangoās kitchen, conducting the flying dishware in a delicate ballet. Every single item bobbed and weaved around each other to the rhythm of an intricate melody nobody but the Second Coming could hear. The swishing and swirling of water drew everyoneās attention to the sink, where a stream of water began to bend and twist upward to form rings between the layers of dancing cutlery.
āHydrokinesis!ā Yellow gasped. āThatās a new one!ā
The scratching sound of pencil meeting paper was only barely audible over Blueās inquiry, āIs it really hydrokinesis, though?ā She scratched her chin, āOr justā¦ telekinesis used on water?ā
āIs there a difference?ā Red asked.
All three of them were immediately hushed by Green, āLet them do their thing.ā He scolded roughly. Mango hadnāt considered that there was a second in command among the group of friends, but given how everyone immediately shut up at Greenās order, it seemed the most melodious stick took that role when Second was out of commission.
Once everyone had quieted down, Mango returned his attention back to Secondās show. Along with the ring of water, globs of what Mango assumed was soap had joined in the choreography. The tempo and melody of Secondās inaudible song changed, transforming the ballet into something more of a waltz. The dishes flowed from water to soap to water, two steps forward, one step back, before the clean dishes were added to an entirely new ring of floating tableware to dry. On and off flickered the ceiling lamp as Secondās power crawled across it, and combined with the jade sparks of lightning that flowed freely through the room, it completely transformed Mangoās kitchen into a much larger, more ominous space. Mangoās fingers twitched, itching with sudden nerves, and to sooth them he reached around Blue to take one of Purpleās hands. Though he couldnāt see Purpleās face, Mango could feel the kid squeeze his hand back, and for a moment all fear was erased from his mind.
Then a plate broke.
Its shattering echoed loudly through the entire house, trampling over any thought Mango could have formed and forcing all attention on it. Throughout the entire performance, Secondās face had been one of pure concentration, serenely focused on the energy surging about, but the sound had utterly destroyed any illusion of control Second had beforehand. Panic flittered in their illuminated eyes as they stared down at the shards of ceramic littering the kitchen floor, no longer affected by Secondās power.
āAhh!ā They cried out, startled by the mistake. Immediately Secondās body language changed, shrinking in on themselves as they focused their attention on the broken plate. Their power forced the shattered remains into the air once again. āUhh, d-donāt worry, I can fix it!ā
The change of attitude caught them all off guard, and Mangoās dread returned tenfold, churning his stomach. Green was the first to speak up, stepping forward with arms held out in an attempt to placate Second. āHey, dude, itās okay-ā
Unfortunately for Green, his attempt at reassurances only startled Second further, and a glass cup exploded into millions of tiny shards against a wall. Mango subconsciously pulled Purple closer at the sound, heart beating a mile a minute in his chest. Second themselves squealed frightfully, their attention redirecting again. The once meticulous dance had grown discordant in response to their distress, the dishware weaving and bobbing in random, quickening movements around the kitchen. Secondās uneven breathing could be heard over the sharpening crackle of lightning and thunder that was slowly growing louder and larger as the kid lost control. One of the larger bowls hit the corner of a chair, chipping it and causing more distress to the stick in the center of the chaos.
āSec! Stop!ā Red cried out. It was unclear if Second had even heard him; they were hunched over in the center of the room, practically hyperventilating as all their focus centered on the broken objects. More things began to break in the chaos; A cracked cup here, a bent fork there. The longer their panic continued, the faster the rings of crockery spun until the kitchen had become a veritable tornado. At this point even the appliances had begun to join in the anarchy.
Purple, still firmly clutching Mangoās hand, stepped forward. Not enough to be caught in the tornado, but enough that Mango could see fear in their eyes, and it only made him hold on all the tighter. āDude!ā Purple called over the noise. At this point the chaos had created a cacophony so loud Mango could barely hear the kid over it. āYou need to calm down! Youāre gonna destroy the entire house at this rate!ā
The loud hiss of, āPurple!ā From Mango came too late. The idea was already out there, and it only increased the sense of panic from every stick present. A pathetic whine signaled an increase in the speed of the spinning kitchenware. Green surged forward the instant he heard it, with Yellow barely being able to pull him back before he could get clocked in the head by a flying food processor.
āH-hey!ā Blue worked her way in front of the group, hands held out placatingly in front of her. āSecond, try and focus on me, okay? Itās going to be alright. Iām going to approach now ā slowly.ā True to her word, Blue made small, cautious steps forward. The wild winds whipped her hair violently, but she showed no signs of distress against their might, āIām going to make my way to you, and youāre going to calm down, and nobodyās going to get hurt. Weāre going to be fine.ā
And, for a brief moment, it seemed like she was right. Secondās eyes were glued to her approaching form, and the sight of her smile eased the tension from their body.
āLook out!ā Red shouted suddenly, then tackled poor Blue just moments before a spinning plate shot through the air where her head once was. Instead the dish continued to whirl through the kitchen, straight over the ceramic shards of another broken plate and right towardsā¦ towards the photo on the wall-!
Mangoās heart leapt into his throat. Without thought he started forward, maybe to throw himself between the flying dishware and one of his last memories of Gold, but by the time heād released Purpleās hand and made the first step it was already too late. Though it took only a second in real time, to Mango it felt like it was playing out in slow-motion. The plate shattered against the frame, shards of ceramic and glass flying in every direction, and the frame fell to the ground. Wood splintered apart with a deafening crack as it finally hit the linoleum. The picture fell, face down, on the ground.
Around him, Mango could barely hear the sound of audible gasps and whispered exclamations over the ringing in his ears. The tips of his fingers felt cold and numb. For just that moment in time, nothing existed but him and the broken remains of Goldās memory.
Green sparks crawled over the pictures, shaking Mango from his stupor and forcing him to tune back into reality. From the center of the kitchen he could hear a tangle of jumbled words and accelerated breathing, āNo, no, this is okay, I can fix it, itāll all be fine, I can fix itā¦ I-I can fix itā¦!ā Once the picture was levitated up, a miracle was revealed to Mango; though the frame was broken beyond repair, the picture itself appeared mostly in tact.
āKid, hold up-ā Mango tried to call out, turning to look at Second. Sharp emerald lights met his eyes in return, freezing the tallest stick in place for a bone-chilling instant.
āI can fix it, I can fix it, I can fix itā¦!ā The haphazard promises fell from Secondās lips along with their labored breaths. Then they clutched their head and screamed, āI CAN FIX IT-!ā
An explosion of emerald light knocked everyone back. Mangoās body tumbled maybe a meter or so before coming to a grinding halt. Mango winced at the burning sensation on his limbs, but the second he was able to move he immediately crawled over to the kids in order to put himself between them and the violent storm Second had made of his kitchen. The green energy had formed an opaque tornado, completely hiding The Second Coming from view. Through the chaos Mango could see shattered remains of plates, randomly bent cutlery, and even full-on appliances that had been forced airborne by Secondās power poke out of the squall before being sucked back in.
Mango barely had a minute to take in the catastrophe that Secondās show had become before the kidsā chatter redirected his attention. āOkay, letās not panic!ā Yellow instructed, pushing her glasses up as she picked herself off the ground. āWe can- uh, we got this! If we just ground the lightning-ā
āGround it with what?!ā Red snapped back, gesturing wildly at the mess in front of them. āSecās power isnāt like normal lightning, that wouldnāt work!ā
āAnd you have any better ideas?!ā Purple demanded. Thankfully for Mangoās poor heart, the kid stayed down close to the ground, even as they joined in the argument.āWe canāt just do nothing!ā
Blue joined Yellowās side quickly, fidgeting with her fingers. āIt-Itās just because Secās panicking! We just need to wait for them to calm down, and-ā
āAnd what, just leave them like this until then?!ā Yellow questioned sharply, causing Blue to flinch back. If Yellow noticed, it didnāt show on her face. āI am not going to abandon them! Not after everything, I canāt-!ā
Everyone seemed to wince in response to Yellowās outcry, and the following tense silence was quickly filled with a pitiful, mournful wailing from the kitchen. The sound seemed to echo in Mangoās head, plucking at the strings of his heart painfully. And he barely knew Second; he couldnāt imagine how this must feel to the kids, who had known The Second Coming for their entire life.
A hitched breath drew Mangoās attention behind himself; Green had gotten a little lost in the chaos, overshadowed by the others yelling over themselves in an attempt to find a solution. That cry, however, had him marching ahead of everyone until he was standing directly in front of the entryway, his green form seeming to glow in the luminescence of the emerald lightning that surged along the tornado. Greenās fists were shaking, but if the expression on his face was anything to go by, it was not fear that caused him to tremble, but sheer determination.
After a moment of simply staring ahead, Green finally spoke aloud. āScrew it,ā He said, and that was the only warning any of them had before he charged forward. āHang on, Sec! Iām coming!ā
Everyone watched him disappear into the chaos in stunned silence, before Yellow gritted her teeth and shouted, āDonāt worry, weāre on our way!ā as she followed suit.
Blue and Red spared a moment to glance at each other, nodding as they each reached the same conclusion. Though they both jumped up at the same time, Red was on his feet first, running directly into the tornado with a battle cry.
Trailing directly after the others, Blue cried out, āItās going to be okay, Second! Weāre on our way!ā as she barreled ahead.
Movement at his side jolted Mangoās attention as Purple stood up against the winds of the storm. Though their body was rigid in fear, conviction was strong on their face as they, too, began to run forward. Everything seemed to slow in that instant. Tension squeezed Mangoās lungs in his chest. All air escaped him in one startled gasp. Purpleās body seemed to transform, going from violet to deep yellow. The green light threatening to engulf them turned to black corruption. Red lights flashed at the corners of his vision. A fatal error has occurred, this connection is terminated.
āNo!ā Mango managed to force out, leaping to grasp Purpleās hand once again. His hold on them was tight like a vice. Though he could hear his own heavy breathing, his lungs burned with a craving for oxygen.
Though startled, Purple quickly began to struggle against Mangoās hold. āWhat are you doing?!ā They asked, voice laden with desperation and fear in equal measure, and it only made Mango hold on all the tighter. āWe- I have to get in there! Sec needs us- needs me!ā
āI need you!ā Mango forced out in a single, painful gasp. āI- I canāt lose anotherā¦! Iām not going to let you run to your death!ā
Though the slip up made Purpleās expression soften some, they still held firm. āIf we do nothing, then Secāll, like, I donāt know, explode or something! Then weāll all die!ā Instead of trying to get away, Purple clasped Mangoās hand with their other, meeting the taller stick's gaze with fire alight in their eyes. āI can do this! I promise, nothing will happen to me!ā
Mango glanced down at their intertwined hands, Purpleās fingers gently rubbing soothing circles into his skin. Subconsciously his breathing began to follow the rhythm of the motions, and the burning fire in Mangoās chest was extinguished. With a deep breath and one final look into those pleading eyes, Mango relented. āOkay,ā He said, but refused to release Purpleās hands. Instead he pulled the both of them up to a standing position. āThen weāll go together.ā
After a serious nod, Purple broke the tension with a playful wink. āTry to keep up, Old Man.ā They teased, and something in Mango felt lighter, even in the face of oncoming danger.
With his hold firm on Purple, Mango began walking against the fierce winds of Secondās maelstrom. The gales of the tornado roared louder and louder the closer and closer they got, until its rumbling was all Mango could hear ringing in his ears. The sharp cold of it stung at his face, but Mango kept firm, doing his best to stay in front and shield Purple from the worst of it. One of Purpleās hands slipped from Mango, and a near heart attack was mitigated when he looked back to see Purple pulling Red down from where heād been sent flying back. Looking around, Mango could make out the three other friends scattered in various directions, struggling to walk against the wind only to be pushed aside by a particularly strong gust or forced to jump away from a large piece of debris haphazardly flying around.
āWe canāt get close!ā Red yelled over the rushing tempest. āWe keep getting knocked back by all the stuff flying around!ā
As if to demonstrate, a chair flew straight at them, only visible once it was moments away from hitting them. King quickly moved to pull Purple and Red down to the floor, covering their heads with his arm in order to protect them.
Purple was the first to lift themselves up, gritting their teeth. āThen how are we supposed to get throughā¦?ā
Yellowās shout, barely audible above the roaring winds, drew Mangoās attention up and towards the irritated stick as she charged forward. She got close to the eye, a mere arms length away from the goal, before Green yanked her out of the way of a swarm of flying knives set to impale her in five different ways. His heroic efforts were rewarded by Blue being tossed into him and Yellow, knocking all three back to where Mango, Red, and Purple were hunkered down.
Not even a second after being tossed back, Blue was already back on her feet. She went to charge forth one more time, but was stopped by Green grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back. āThis isnāt working!ā He scolded, sounding angrier in his attempt to yell over the hurricane. āWe have to try something else!ā
āWell, what else can we do?!ā Blue asked tearfully. In lieu of an answer he couldnāt give, Green instead took hold of her hand.
The gears in Mangoās head began to turn. They couldnāt get anywhere near the center of the storm; the winds were too strong, blowing so hard that it was impossible to make it to the center before being hit by the dangerous debris flying haphazardly around. A stick alone wouldnāt be able to breach the maelstrom without getting blown away, but there was no way a group could move through without getting hit by one of the large appliances or pieces of furniture caught in the tornado. Not without a shield to guard them.
Mango knew what he had to do. With a shaky breath he picked himself up, bracing his knees to stand against the storm. Purple made a concerned noise as Mangoās hand slipped away from theirs, but in spite of that Mango instead focused on his surroundings, on every little sliver of glass or lump of wood flying around that could hurt them. As he focused, Mango called back to the kids, āI have an idea!ā Everyone looked up at him, all of the young sticks suffering various degrees of battery from their attempts to reach Second. āAll five of you, huddle together and move in tandem! If you keep a firm hold of each other and work as a unit, youāll be able to stand against the wind!ā
āBut what about all the stuff flying around?!ā Red asked, even as he and the others moved to take hold of each other. Red was at one end, Blue next to him, then Green in the middle, with Purple at his side and Yellow on the opposite end.
Mango took a deep breath, focusing on the rapidly approaching microwave as it flew closer and closer. Once it was within range, Mango demonstrated exactly what would happen with all the stuff flying around. He braced himself against the floor and was only pushed back a few centimeters as he gripped onto the heavy appliance. Though taking the force and weight of the microwave made his arms ache, Mango spun around and tossed the now useless contraption to the side.
āIāll take care of that.ā He assured the children as he turned to them, forcing down the anxiety and pressure he felt and forcing up an encouraging grin. āYou all just focus on getting Second out of there.ā
Purple swallowed down their nerves before matching Mangoās smile. āJust be careful, Old Man. Iām not taking care of you if you throw your back out.ā
Snorting, Mango turned away from the kids to focus on his job. āIf youāre my nurse, I think Iāll take my chances with the lightning.ā His voice then dropped, turning serious. āNow get moving!ā
All of Mangoās attention then focused on the winds around him. He played the role of guard for the children as they inched along, using each other as support against the harsh gales. The friend group moved together in near perfect harmony. Purpleās inexperience, in comparison, was obvious. They stumbled where the others stepped smoothly, needing to glance at their feet or their friends while everyone else seemed to simply trust that the others would step where they needed to. Even with the handicap of Purpleās inexperience, however, they made surprisingly quick progress through the raging storm. Mango moved as quickly as he could to knock back any debris, any heavy machine, any sharp piece of glass or ceramic that could harm the kids. They were encouraging each other behind him, counting down the steps until they reached their goal.
āJust a little closer!ā Purple cried out as Mango wrangled a cabinet door away from the group. Their voice was almost entirely lost in the wind that surrounded Second. āJustā¦ a littleā¦!ā
And then the five disappeared into the heart of the storm. Mango breathed a sigh of relief, switching up his focus to dodge the hazardous kitchenware instead of blocking it head on. Nothing in the tornado ventured any closer to the eye than where the children had just entered, so Mango could be certain theyād be fine from then on. A bone-deep ache made itself known as Mango let himself relax a touch, but he didnāt fall back. Instead Mango rooted himself firmly nearby, alert for any kind of disturbance in the maelstrom; any sign that the kids were distressed or injured.
That was all he could do for now, besides put his trust in them.
---------------------
Second could barely hear the sound of the winds whipping about over their own heart pounding in their ears. Every part of them burned; their throat, their lungs, their arms, their eyes. Shaking fingers yanked at their long, flowing hair. The cycloneās violent winds pressed down on them harder with every haggard breath they took, stealing the air from their lungs as they slowly suffocated in their gale storm of despair.
The storm had started as a seed of panic within them, planted as the sound of shattering ceramics itched at their skin. With very new mistake, every blatant screw up, every near miss on their dearest friendsā lives, the seedling began to sprout, bringing with it a harsh, ashy wind that left a bitter sensation on their skin. The photographās destruction had been like bone-meal, escalating the growth of the squall until it swallowed Second whole. The winds raced at the same rate as their heart as it pounded within them, fighting to escape the cage of Secondās body. With each forced beat the ache inside of them grew and spread. They were dying, Secondās thoughts screamed at them from within their fuzzy brain.
They were going to die here.
They were doing to die here.
And it was allā¦ theirā¦ faultā¦
This wasnāt the first time Second had ruined everything. Every new experience they brought to their friends was marred by pain and death in some form. The darkest corner of their mind swirled with memories of their torn-apart, dying bodies slowly fading into distorted code, or disappearing in a puff of gray smoke as their programs were ended without a second thought. Their own hands tingled with the memory of a cold steel blade pierced through Greenās body, or violet bruises ringing on their fists as they looked down at Redās frightened face. At every step, through carelessness or powerlessness or their own unhinged actions, Second was always forced to watch the most important parts of their life suffer and agonize and absolutely languish in pain.
Why had they thought they could fixthis? Second knew theyād lose control, knew that this power would poison what theyād built, but theyād made the mistake of giving in, and now they were going to die.
They were goingā¦ to dieā¦
All aloneā¦ after ruining everythingā¦
Theyā¦ they wereā¦ going toā¦
āSec!ā A sharp voice cut through the cyclone, jolting Second out of their thoughts with a wave of prickles along their body. Before they could even register the origins of the sound, a pair of arms encircled their waist. The touch was soft and sweet, causing the burning of Secondās body to ease just a little bit; just enough that they could make themselves look down to lock eyes with Green. He smiled up at them, not so much as flinching against the blazing heat of Secondās shining emerald gaze. āIām here! Iāve got you!ā
Stunned, Second couldnāt even bring themselves to return the embrace before another pair of arms forcibly wrapped around them. āDonāt worry, Sec!ā Red assured through a large, vibrant grin. āItās just a little thunder, nothing we canāt handle!ā
Another jolt to their side signaled Yellowās entrance, squeezing them so hard that rough burning churning within them was squeezed out, to be replaced a soft, bittersweet pressure. āTold ya, didnāt I?ā Yellow asked, never once letting her hold loosen. āIām not letting anything tear us apart.ā
Next to join in the group hug was Blue, her shimmering eyes taking in the fierce, violent green of the lightning and reflecting back only a soft, gentle aura of emerald. āI know you must feel so scared right now,ā She consoled, her voice feather-light on their skin, āBut youāre not alone ā everyoneās here! Weāre all here with you!ā
Last but not least, Purple forced themselves into the hug by worming their way between the others to snake their arms around Secondās middle. āPfft, if youāre trying to get rid of me,ā They scolded jokingly, āItās gonna be a lot harder than that, Sec.ā
Though the storm raged on, Second found themselves unable to tear their focus away from their friends. The many arms around them were velvety smooth, sweet on their skin with a tang of desperate heat. Their voices caressed Second with gentle softness as they whispered fluffy comforts for the winds to carry to their ears. Warmth flooded over Secondās entire body, forcing out the various aches from all over. Secondās shoulders relaxed as they took in a deep breath. Oxygen hit their lungs for the first time since the picture broke. Secondās eyes fluttered shut as they let themselves relax.
What had they been so worried about? Despite the accidents, the threatening villains, the near-death experiences, they always came through it together on the other side. Mistakes were forgiven, wounds were healed, and no matter what came their way, Second could stand against it, firm in the knowledge that their loved ones were at their side, supporting them all the way.
As long as Second had them, theyād be okay. They could fix anything.
Second opened their eyes. Beyond the twister they found a pair of silhouettes, a tall one and a short one. Second couldnāt make out their faces, but the tension in their limbs betrayed their obvious fear. The emerald eyes of the super-powered stick remained trained on the nervous figures,
Itās okay, Second tried to tell them, to reassure the clearly frightened figures, but all that escaped their mouth was a staticky noise that made their friends hug them all the tighter. Upon realizing that their voice was turned off for the time being, Second instead reached out to the pair, to try and show them that it would be alright, that they werenāt alone, that help was right there and ready for them.
The strangers grew more panicked, and Second stretched their arm further to reach for them. All of Secondās attention was hyper-focused on the two upset figures, to the point where everything beyond them and the arms around Secondās waist disappeared from their mind. All they wanted was to give the two strangers a little taste of the comfort that everyoneās presence granted them. To fix the pain they could sense on the pair and stop the fear that was clearly growing stronger and stronger within them as they fiddled anxiously with something in the smaller oneās hand. Second felt something deep inside them urging them to keep extending their arm, to keep pulling at the two figures. To fix the distress on their face and bring them home.
All they had to do was reach a little furtherā¦ furtherā¦ just a bit moreā¦
And then everything disappeared in an explosion of brilliant emerald light.
--------------------
Between the ringing in his ears and the throbbing in his head, Green was certain heād be in for a world of hurt the moment he opened his eyes. Despite this, the distant murmurs of fear and horror from his friends had Green forcing his eyelids up, inviting a piercing beam of light and agony into his brain. Seconds stretched into years as Green waited for the discomfort to fade enough for him to focus his eyes and look out over what was once the Ochre familyās kitchen. Now the room was in absolute shambles; everything, from the smallest plate to the gigantic refrigerator, was damaged in some way. The linoleum floor, cool on Greenās aching legs, was positively littered with shards of glass and ceramic. A food processor was stuck in the wall, its cord dangling uselessly over a crack in the tile beneath it. Water formed small pools throughout the room, one dangerously close to an electrical outlet on the opposite wall. The only electronic in the room that still functioned a little bit was the ceiling light, which flickered on and off rapidly enough to compound Greenās growing headache.
Green forced down a swallow as he took in the wreckage. The memory of Secās pleading, of the fear on their face, played in his mind like a broken record, and then his eyes began to burn anew. Just a few minutes ago theyād all been having fun, and Second had finally begun to relax. Heād thought that maybe, just maybe, they were finally starting to accept themselvesā¦ and then everything exploded. The thought of how Second must be feeling was like his heart was sinking to the bottom of his stomach, swirling its contents into bile.
Still, there was much to be done, so despite the nausea and tears threatening to break through Green pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing as the pounding in his head compounded. He fought through the fuzz at the edges of his vision and the painfully loud ringing in his ears to focus on his friends, to try and ascertain their current condition. Mango was the first one he was able to pinpoint, and naturally the taller stick had rushed to Purpleās side. Other than a few bumps and bruises, neither of the two looked too badly injured. Red appeared to be fine too, sitting next to Yellow and speaking unintelligible words to her. Yellowās one leg was splayed out in front of them, and when Red made contact with her ankle she winced. Green couldnāt see how badly it was swollen, or if there was any sign of a break, but the fact that she was injured at all nearly brought Green to tears again. He forced it down and left Yellowās care to Red, scanning across the room until he found Blue, also mostly unharmed, hovering anxiously over Secondās body with her hand on their neck.
The sight of his motionless friend caused Greenās breath to catch in his throat. Noā¦ were theyā¦ did he cause his best friend toā¦?
Mere moments later Blueās shoulders relaxed and she visibly exhaled, a small smile forming under her tired eyes. Green echoed her relieved sigh. Second wasā¦ alive, at the very least.
In the little time between awakening and checking on his friends, the ringing in Greenās ears had died down. Not completely gone, but low enough that he could now hear the others chattering amongst themselves. Their voices blended together into a cacophony of noises, and Green found himself unable to tell his friends apart. He could catch the occasional word, but without context they made virtually no sense.
Mango unexpectedly stood up at the other end of the room, his shoulders stiff with tension as he immediately stood to put himself between Purple andā¦ something. Because they hadnāt moved Green had initially overlooked them, but following Mangoās gaze Green could seeā¦ someone in the corner of the room. An extra person- no, two extra people, lying unconscious on the floor nearby. Green struggled to focus entirely on them and Mango, who made a hush motion in response to Purple opening their mouth to say something, before steadily approaching the two new entities. His face was set with grim determination as he approached the figures, but as he got closer, it gradually shifted. Mangoās eyes widened, beginning to bulge out of his head, and Green forced everything into focusing on the older stick as he inched over to that dark corner, truly taking their new guests.
And then he started laughing.
A loud, humourless cackle that reminded Green more of the mad king whoād almost killed them all than Purpleās sarcastic guardian. Green continued to push through the fuzz in his brain as Purple picked themselves up and raced over to the old man. They paused once they reached him, staring in shock at the source of Mangoās distress.
āItās finally happened!ā Mango declared between laughs, his eyes completely glazing over with a sheen of distress. āIāve finally gone insane!ā
Purple, eyes wide, stepped in front of Mango with their arms stretched out in an attempt to placate him. āNo, no!ā They assured him, words rushed in their panic. āYouāre not crazy, I promise, I see them too! P-please stop laughing-!ā
ā-Iām fine! Iām not the one who, exploded, you need to go help Blue-!ā
Green winced, struggling to stay focused as everyone elseās voices began to pick up volume, fighting each other for his attention.
āOkay, cāmon, wake up-!ā
āYou canāt walk on that, are you nuts-!ā
The voices pounded in Greenās ears to the rhythm of his racing heart.
āH-hey, come on, take some deep breaths-!ā
āSeriously, let go-!ā
āPlease, Sec, please-!ā
He groaned as he held his throbbing skull. Every noise was blending together; the voices of his friends, the dripping of water from the sink, the buzz of the malfunctioning light as it flickered on and off, on and off, on and off, poking at his brain through his pupils. The bile in his stomach churned again, fighting to rise up his esophagus.
āI- This isnāt real. Thereās no way this is real, this has to be-!ā
āC-come on, Old Man, focus-!ā
āYellow, will stop trying to-!ā
āGet off of me-!ā
āCome on, Blue, think-!ā
āWill you all just SHUT UP?!ā Green shouted over all of them. Every single stick in the room went totally silent, finally relieving a little bit of the pressure in his skull. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Green used the wall to help himself stand. Though his limbs ached, the worst of the pain was in head, allowing Green to stand without opposition. Looking out over the chaos, Green felt something well in him at the scared, desperate looks his dearest friends were giving him; Guilt and determination and sorrow. It fueled the flame within him, and Green took charge, immediately pushing past the pain to issue commands. āYellow, let Red help you to the living room.ā
āIām fine-!ā The injured stick tried to object.
Green immediately shut that down. āNo, youāre not. If you were, you would have walked away from Red by now.ā Green sighed. āLook, I donāt want to be mean, but if you try to walk on that ankle youāre going to make it worse. And the last thing we need right now is for things to get worse. Itāll only take a few moments for Red to help you walk to the armchair. Let him do that, and we wonāt have to worry anymore, alright?ā
Any protests died on Yellowās lips as she absorbed Greenās argument. Though she may not have been happy about it, the logic won her over, and she huffed in irritation even as she hooked an arm around Redās shoulders. The two began to stand in order to limp out of the room, and Green shifted his focus.
Mangoās breakdown had been halted by Greenās sudden cry, too stunned to continue, and Green used this opportunity to make his way over to him and Purple. The violet stick quickly moved to the side to let Green through, and for the first time Green was able to get a clear look at the new sticks summoned by Secondās power. His eyes immediately went wide as he absorbed the sight before him.
The first of the two newcomers, the taller one, looked nearly identical to Mango. The very few differences were entirely cosmetic; his hair was a little shorter, his clothes a little neater. There were no bags under his eyes or scars on his body from the fight for Minecraft. Small though the differences may be, they made a huge impact, making this version of Mango look ten years younger than the reformed tyrant Green knew. Curled under his arm, as though shielded from the entire world, was the second, smaller stick. Their body was a deep gold, and despite not knowing anything about this stick, Green was immediately struck with a sense of deja vu. It felt like heād seen them somewhere before, but the context entirely escaped him.
Green was not, however, stupid. Given how the other Mango was curled protectively around this new stick, and the real Mango had a mental breakdown at the mere sight of them, Green was certain this new stick was someone of great importance to Mango. A few theories were already cooking in Greenās brain, but there were more important things to focus on at the moment.
āOnce Redās done helping Yellow,ā Green informed the two, drawing their attention to him. Though Mango was no longer laughing like a madman, his eyes were almost entirely blank. Purple was more present, holding themselves anxiously as they focused entirely on Green. āHeāll help you guys get these two somewhere more comfortable. Should we put them in Mangoās room?ā
A moment of silence fell over the two. Purple suddenly couldnāt meet Greenās eye, glancing awkwardly to the side, while Mango seemed to take a moment to process the question. Eventually, the old man answered, āWe can put them in Goldās room. Itās a little dusty, but it should be fine, I guess.ā
Green cocked a brow at the taller stick. āWait, Goldās roomā¦?ā That answered some of Greenās questions and raised so many more, but for the moment Green restricted himself to the most important one. āThere are only two bedrooms in this house. Where does Purple sleep?ā
āI gave them my old room,ā Mango answered without hesitation. Purple seemed to flinch at the confession, something like shame crossing their face. āThese days Iām usually not sleeping through the whole night anyways, so Iām good with just the couch.ā
Well, at least Purple had a real bedroom. Still, something about this revelation left a sour taste in Greenās mouth. It would have to be dealt with at some point. Not now, though. Now, Red had returned, and Green flagged him over to assist, flinching a little as Redās fast movements caused his head to spin.
āUh, Red and I can handle, um, the old man- the other version of you, I mean.ā Purple muttered, stumbling over their words. āYou can take Gold- i-if youāre okay with that, that is.ā
It took Mango a moment to recognize what Purple was saying, eyes glazed over as he stared vacantly at this Gold character. Upon realizing what was being asked of him, Mangoās breath hitched. His fingers twitched as he approached the two with heavy, slow steps. Gingerly he pulled back his other selfās arm to expose Gold, who stirred slightly but did not awaken. Mangoās hand lingered above them, hesitant to touch them. Slowly it lowered, flinching away from them several times in the process. Eventually, his hand met their face, and Mangoās eyes welled with tears when their body held solid against his touch. From there things moved quicker, Mango taking the younger stick into his arms with delicate care. Cradling them like a baby, Mango took long, careful steps out of the kitchen.
Purple watched after him until the two were gone, twiddling their thumbs. It took a gentle tap from Red to bring Purple back to reality, the other jumping a little at the touch. āUm, sorry.ā Red scratched his head, a little awkward in the face of current tensions. āBut, err, I donāt know where the bedrooms are, so I was thinking you could take the feet and direct us, and Iāll grab the head. You good with that?ā
āUh, yeah, sure.ā Purple agreed. Green watched as the two set about lifting the taller stick up and out of the room. His aching head was absolutely throbbing, pounding in rhythm to the flickering light on the ceiling. But he couldnāt slow down now. Not when he hadnāt even dealt with the worst of the damage heād caused yet.
Taking only a moment for a calming breath, Green slowly waltzed over to Blue. She held Secondās head in her lap, whispering soothing words and little pleas to awaken as she ran her hands through their long mane of hair. Though he knew Sec was alive, the sight of them shocked Green; their eyes had dark shadows under them, their limbs weak and limp. Second looked worse than Green had seen them since the day they had-
Green shook his head, ignoring another wave of nausea that rolled over him. āHow are they?ā He asked instead.
āWell, I canāt find any serious injuries,ā Blue updated as she continued to stroke the fluffy mess of bedhead, āBut they may have internal injuries? Itās hard to tell- Iām equipped to deal with minor wounds and Minecraft ailments. Notā¦ this.ā
āWouldnāt their healing powers take care of that?ā Green asked, kneeling down next to Blue to take their dear friendās hand in his own. It was cold and clammy against Greenās skin, which made him clutch all the tighter, willing some of his warmth into it.
As if to answer, Blue pointed out a number of bruises on their body. āIt hasnāt kicked in yet. Maybe theyāre too tired to do it? Or maybe itās a good sign!ā Blue forced herself to perk up at the thought. āEvery time Secondās used their healing powers itās because someone got seriously hurt. Maybe theyāre not hurt bad enough for it to activate on its own.ā
āMaybe,ā Green agreed, even though that didnāt really sound right to him. Since Sec had become aware of their powers, theyād shown the greatest connection to their healing. It was one of the strongest abilities. āStill, I donāt think theyād be too comfortable sleeping on the floor. Is it safe to move them?ā
āOh! Uh,ā Blue thought for a moment, her eyes scanning over Sec uneasily. Moments passed into minutes before she answered, āI- I think so. As long as weāre careful.ā
Green nodded, already standing to take hold of Secondās legs. āOkay, Iāll walk backwards with their legs, you take their head.ā Blue nodded, taking a firm hold of Second as she slowly stood up. Between the two of them the limp stick weighed almost nothing, and Green carefully walked backwards into the living room. He could see Yellow resting in Mangoās giant armchair, leg propped up on the coffee table with a pillow. Her eyes followed their movements like a hawk as Green and Blue, working in perfect harmony, brought their unconscious friend to Mangoās couch and slowly, gently, set them down. Second didnāt so much as stir during the transfer, which only made Green all the more worried. What he wouldnāt give to have his best friend suddenly sit up and throw a pillow at him for disturbing their restā¦
For now, Green once again took hold of Secondās hand and watched their drained, pale face as they slept. He didnāt know where heād even begin to apologize for this.
----------------------
While Purple had snuck into this room to learn more about the illusive Gold in the past, this was the first time theyād been allowed to enter Goldās bedroom, and it made their heart beat a thousand miles per second. The Old Man stood to the side, cradling his kid as he allowed Red and Purple to maneuver theā¦ er, other Old Man into the twin-sized bed. He was barely able to fit, but once they set him on the mattress some sense of familiarity must have kicked in, causing him to curl in on himself to fit a little more comfortably. Once he was set down, Mango waltzed over and slowly, reluctantly, put his child to rest next to the bizarro world Mango. Immediately Gold curled around his father, her arms wrapping around him in search of comfort, and even unconscious the handsome version of Mango immediately returned the embrace.
Something sour slithered in Purpleās gut at the sight, a bitterness that immediately made them disgusted with themselves. As much as they coveted the same kind of love so easily given to Gold when they were feeling off, to feel this kind of jealously towards a dead kidā¦ well, it wasnāt like they hadnāt known they were a bad person, but still. Not cool, Purple.
They were a little lost in thought, so Mango suddenly lugging himself up to the bedās side to stare at the two intertwined sticks startled them. Though he was looking directly at them, the Old Man seemed to not see the two, instead staring at something far, far away.
āUhā¦ā Redās awkward voice reached Purpleās ear, and they turned to look at the stronger stick as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. The old man didnāt seem to hear him. āSo, Iām gonna go, uh, check on the othersā¦ yeahā¦ weāll be in the living room if you need usā¦ uh, sorry again about your kitchen.ā
Purple watched as Red sidled towards the door, staring at them with wide, unblinking eyes, as if expecting them to come at him. When nothing happened, he turned around and hastily walked back to the living room. That left Purple alone in the houseās forbidden room with an Old Man, an unconscious Old Man, and a ghost.
Swallowing past their nerves, Purple approached Mango and reached across the sudden chasm between them to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. āHey,ā They addressed softly. Mango didnāt so much as twitch at their touch. āAre you feeling okay?ā
It took a moment for Mango to respond. āSweetheart, Iām feeling a lot of things right now,ā He droned, not taking his eyes off of the two sticks curled up on the bed, āand none of them are okay.ā
Purple winced. Sweetheart only tended to come out when one of them was feeling particularly bad. Usually Purple themselves. Still, they pressed onward, āYeah, thatās fair,ā They agreed. Then, with a little hesitation, they asked, āHowā¦ how do you think Secondā¦ brought them here?ā
Mango sighed, bring his hand up to hold his forehead. āI dunno. Cloning, maybe? They have art powers or something, right?ā He stumbled back, and, thinking quickly, Purple pulled the chair from the nearby desk and got it to Mango just in time for the Old Man to collapse into it. Once he was seated, Mango nodded his thanks to Purple and leaned over the two bedridden sticks. āIām not exactly in a state to think too hard about that.ā
Okay, fair. Purple tried to think of something else ā anything else ā that they could do in order to make Mango feel better. After fumbling over their words for a moment, they eventually asked, āIs there anything I can do to help?ā
āI thinkā¦ā Mangoās breath hitched. āI think I just some time alone, kiddo.ā
Something deep inside Purple shattered at the request. Still, they nodded obediently. āOkay, Iāll go check on the others, then. Weāllā¦ be in the living room.ā
Purple knew if they turned back to look at Mango, whatever theyād see on his face would push them to tears, so instead they kept their eyes trained on the floor as they walked out the door and shut it behind them. Despite their proclamation, Purple lingered for a few moments, just long enough to hear soft sobs come from the other side of the door. Their heart ached, urging them to go back in, to let him know that it would all be okay, but that single, weak request kept Purpleās twitching fingers at their sides. With great effort they forced themselves to trail back from the bedrooms, leaving the Ochre family alone to process the events of that day.
Once back in the living room, Purple was met with another tense scene. Each member of the gang was idling around in total silence. Green was sat by Secondās side on the couch, holding their hand and petting their hair as he watched them warily. Blue also hovered over their orange friend, fretting over them as she searched for any change in their condition. Red stood in place in between the armchair and the couch, tapping his foot impatiently. Yellow was the only one who was entirely still, slouched uncomfortably in the armchair with her foot propped on the coffee table. Her eyes were trained firmly on the wall opposite the couch. The air was thick with tension and nerves.
Steeling their nerves, Purple asked, āHowās everyone doing?ā
āOkay,ā Green murmured, briefly looking up to meet purpleās gaze.
āIām good!ā Red assured, plastering on a huge smile that didnāt quite meet his eyes.
āDonāt worry, Iām fine.ā Blue assured gently, tapping her fingers on Secondās arm as she checked their pulse again.
āPeachy,ā Yellow spat sarcastically, glaring at the ground.
Then, after a pregnant pause, all four turned towards Secondās unresponsive form. The tension returned tenfold.
Red finally spoke up, cutting off the pressure as he smiled awkwardly at the group, āYou know, if Sec were awake, theyād probably say something like, āAt least they let me sleep in for onceā.ā The turn of phrase was made in a terrible impression of Secondās voice, followed by a nervous laugh that quickly petered out, āHehe, hehe, heā¦ā
More silence.
āTheyāll be okayā¦ right?ā Blue asked softly.
āOf course they will!ā Cut off Green, looking mildly insulted at even the suggestion that they wouldnāt be. āTheyāre Sec! Theyāre always okay!ā
Yellowās already haggard face wrinkled, making her look far more tired than just a few moments prior. Her eyes reflected the ghosts of memories past as she once again cast her gaze away to avoid looking at Second. āYeah,ā She agreed absently, though she sounded like her mind was somewhere far, far away. āTheyāre always okayā¦ā
Immediately Purple got the sense that they were missing a few pieces of the puzzle. Like, maybe half of the pieces. And the box. And it was was one of those obnoxious white puzzles, so it was hard to put together in the first place.
Desperate to escape the pressure of the moment, Purpleās eyes scanned over the group, and soon came to rest on Yellowās ankle. Though mildly swollen, it didnāt look broken, so Purple hazard a guess that it only needed rest and icing. They piped up, āUm, why donāt I get you some ice, Yellow?ā The query broke through whatever spell Yellow was under, dragging her mind back into the present.
Before she could respond Blue let out a sharp gasp, immediately turning to Yellow and waving her hands in a placating way. āOh my gosh, Yellow, I am so sorry! I didnāt even think about that- I was so focused on Second that I forgot- I canāt believe I-!ā
āHey, hey,ā Yellow consoled, sitting up straight for the first time, āItās alright. We all know the rules: The one whoās hurt worst gets priority treatment. And itās just a little sprain, itās not like itās broken or anything.ā
āBut stillā¦ā Blue kept her eyes trained on Yellowās propped up foot, swallowing audibly past a lump in her throat.
Purple winced, mind racing as they searched for a way to cut through the tension, but Red beat them to it with a cheery, upbeat proclamation: āPersonally, I blame Green.ā
āWhat?ā Green snapped back, looking vaguely offended by the accusation.
āYou have two working legs,ā He explained in a matter-of-fact manner, āYou couldāve gotten up up at any time to take care of Yellow, but noooā¦ā
Purple snickered openly at the look on Greenās face, which only got louder when he turned his glare at them. Yellow, snorting, chimed in, āYeah, Green, arenāt you supposed to be the responsible one?ā
āOh, we all know thereās no āresponsibleā one!ā Green put strong finger quotes around the word responsible, causing a wave of roaring laughter to engulf the living room. And just like that, the atmosphere grew lighter.
While the others fell into their normal banter, Purple used this opportunity to slip into the remains of Mangoās kitchen. The place certainly looked like a tornado hit it, with every object damaged in some way or another. Purple stepped around cracks in the ground and puddles of water splattered around on their way through, taking note of the damage as they went. Literally all of their cutlery and tableware was in pieces. The food processor was firmly embedded into the wall, its glass cracked and its cord swinging sadly in air. Purple stepped over the dented door of the microwave, and had to glance around for a moment to find the rest of it crunched up and tossed to the side.
Convincing insurance that a super-powered stick created a twister in the middle of their kitchen would be a pain in the rear, Purple mused as they sidled over to one of the cabinet drawers that had been forced out of its place. There they found a cloth rag, which they quickly grabbed before heading towards the tipped over, broken refrigerator. If they wanted a payout good enough to rebuild their kitchen to its former glory, theyād have to come up with a good story. The damage was too extensive to be explained by a burglary turned fight, so they doubted that would pass the smell test. A bear attack, maybe? Were there even bears in this areaā¦? Honestly, the best thing Purple could come up with was an explosion. The microwave was relatively new, and still under warranty, so with a little ingenuity Purple was certain they could alter the scene of the crime to fit that narrative. Perhaps theyād even get a bit of a payout from the company that made the microwave.
Nodding in satisfaction, Purple paused in front of the fridge. Theyād have to go over the story with Mango later to smooth over any mistakes, but they were certain they could get a full remodel covered with ease. The satisfaction the thought put on their face disappeared when they opened the freezer door a bit too roughly, resulting in it falling off its hinges and dangling from Purpleās hold. Gingerly they set it to the side and dug out a few pieces of melting ice to wrap in the cloth before finally making their way out of the kitchen to return to the others.
ā-and so I said, āThatās positively blue-tiful!āā Red recited, and Yellow groaned lightly while Green and Blue cracked up. Somehow Purple got the feeling that they were laughing more at Yellowās misery than whatever joke Red had set up.
Purple suppressed a smile as they approached, holding up the makeshift ice bag as if to explain their absence. āThanks,ā Yellow grumbled with a pout. She winced as the ice was set on her swollen ankle. āYou got anything for the headache Redās puns are causing?ā
āCome on, Redās just trying to make you feel better.ā Purple scolded playfully, āIt isnāt very ice of you complain.ā
They almost cracked at the complete and total betrayal that befell Yellowās face. āPurple,ā She gasped in horror, āI trusted you.ā Green, Blue, and Red all howled with laughter, Red even doubling over and clutching his side.
āThat was your first mistake,ā Purple informed her ominously, their grave tone in contrast to the wide grin stretched across their face.
A sudden, deep voice broke through the merriment. āI see youāre all doing well,ā Mango noted, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Purple could tell that his eyes had a hint of redness to them, but that was the only sign that there had been anything amiss. If anything, he wasā¦ too composed, which made Purpleās gut curl in on itself. How many times had the Old Man cried in secret, hiding his pain from Purple? How often had they stumbled across Mango post-crying session and bombarded him with their pointless complaints, completely oblivious to his suffering?
Their self-deprecating musing were ground to a halt when Mango made his way across the living room to Secondās side, taking a look at them himself. āHow bad is it?ā He asked.
āN-not that badā¦ no serious wounds or anything, I think theyāre just drained,ā Blue filled him in. She again checked Secondās pulse.
Mango hummed aloud, āStill, Iād rather be safe than sorry. We should get them to a hospital or something.ā
āA hospital?ā Green questioned, suddenly looking uneasy. It quickly spread to Blue and Red.
āUm,ā Yellow interrupted, āLook, the details are tooā¦ complicated to get into right now, but that would be a really bad idea. Especially if they decided to isolate Sec.ā
Red and Green both went pale. Blue looked close to tearing up. The argument Mango was clearly about to get into died on his lips at the sight, but he still didnāt look quite ready to let this go. Knowing how the old man worried and figuring that it wouldnāt be the greatest idea in the world to give a vulnerable super-powered stick to the government, Purple decided to step in. They moved from Yellowās side to place a comforting hand on Mangoās arm, redirecting his attention back to them.
āI donāt think you have anything to worry about,ā They confirmed, āSecās got super healing powers, so theyāll be able to patch everyone up once theyāre rested up.ā
Still Mango looked unconvinced. "I donāt knowā¦ā
āTrust me,ā Purple pleaded, and they were pleased to see a little crack in the old manās armour.
After a moment of hemming and hawing, he sighed, āAlright, fine, for now,ā Mango agreed. The others slumped in clear relief at his resignation, āBut if theyāre not up by sundown, weāre taking them to the nearest doctor.ā
āThey will be,ā Green stated with unyielding confidence.
Mango nodded, then glanced over at Yellow. āYour ankle isnāt broken?ā He asked.
āSprained,ā She confirmed, āJust need to ice it and keep it elevated. Iāll be fine.ā
Satisfied with that, Mango nodded affirmatively. He looked a little more at ease than he had been back in the kitchen. āThat just leaves one more. Green,ā Said stick flinched at being called out, āHold still for a moment. You hit your head pretty hard back there. I want to make sure youāre not concussed.ā
Purple winced. Come to think of it, they had heard a pretty hard thump after Second had exploded. Had that been Greenās head hitting the wall? There had been so much going on theyād barely taken note of it.
Nearby, Purple heard Blue whisper under her breath, āI didnāt even noticeā¦ā They didnāt respond to her, but placed a gentle, consoling hand on her shoulder.
Some simple questions were exchanged between Mango and Green, each one Green answered with ease and clarity. Finally, Mango asked Green how he felt, āI was nauseous and dizzy at first,ā The musical stick explained, āBut after I sat down and relaxed a little it went away. Now I just have a raging migraine.ā
āHmm,ā Mango scratched his chin, āWell, try to take it easy, just to be safe. Head injuries are no joke. Iāll ask you again later, but so far you seem fine.ā
Some relief returned to the room at Mangoās unofficial diagnosis. Red and Yellow tossed some concussion related jabs at Green while Blue smiled warmly down at him. Laughter returned to the living room, and it felt like their friends were finally at peace ā save one glaring omission to the group.
They hoped Second would wake up soon.
--------------------
Line after line, form after form, their art came to life.
Through careful craft of masterful strokes, an animation came to be. Tiny little paws made contact with an invisible floor as a kitten was gently coaxed into existence. Nose pointed straight, tail upturned in the air. Little bits of fuzz were represented by stroke after stroke of line. The small kitten stood proud, ready to make the step forward, and The Second Coming looked down at her with pride. Then they clicked to the next frame, and began the process again. Frames of the same drawing were gradually altered, until the little kitten made her way across the ground in order to explore the brand new world she was brought into.
The Second Coming nodded at her, turned to save her existence, and came face to face with the Second Coming.
A reflection stared back at them, eyes aglow with soft emerald light. No words were exchanged ā they were seldom needed when the Second Coming faced themselves. The quiet contained no tension, no fear. Only a sense of peace. Some moments passed, and then the mirror turned and walked away. The Second Coming tried to follow after them, as they were usually expected to, but a hand held up in a universal āstopā motion kept them in place.
Carefully maneuvering down beneath them, The Second Coming waltzed through the timeline of the kittenās animation without concern. Their gaze remained focused and forward until, quite suddenly, they stopped at the very first key frame of the animation. It held firm in place as they pulled at it, harder and harder, until a perfect copy was pulled free, along with a brief flash of a fresh, entirely blank timeline. Seeing the timeline empty of their creation caused a moment of panic in the Second Coming, which quickly quieted when they looked back to see the kitten sitting there, unharmed, licking her paws with perfect grace and serenity.
Quick as theyād made their way across the timeline the Second Coming returned, carrying the key frame with the same care as though it was the kitten herself. A hand gesture beckoned the Second Coming over, and the Second Coming joined themselves at the precipice of the timeline and the canvas. They looked at themselves, and their self looked down at the key frame. Gently their hand stroked the top of it, before it took hold and began to stretch it larger, and larger. The Second Coming leaned forward to get a closer look, and was rewarded with a kitten jumping into their arms.
The kitten stared up at them, mild confusion on her face. She also stared at them from across the canvas, hackles raised as she noticed her other selfās presence. In response the version of her in Secondās arms hopped down, carefully skirting around herself as kitten and kitten inspected each other.
For a while the Second Coming and the Second Coming watched as the two kittens came to terms with each other and began playing. Though they were the same kitten, they may as well have been simple litter-mates with how easily they came together. A tap on the shoulder drew the Second Comingās attention over to their other self, who gazed at them with strong, unblinking eyes. They held up the key frame, then gestured to the kittens. The Second Coming followed their movements.
From the key frameā¦
To the kittensā¦
To the key frameā¦
To the kittensā¦
And the Second Coming understood.
--------------------
Second shot up from their resting position, crying out, āHoly heck I broke space time-!ā
Just as theyād made it into a sitting position they froze. Pure, unadulterated agony spread across their entire body. Burning tears built up in their eyes, and Second desperately blinked them back even as their breath hitched. It was like every single one of their muscles were trying to pull away from their bones, burning as they struggled to break free.
āAhā¦ā They winced, and tried to ease back into a laying position. This only caused another flare of horrible pain from every muscle that was forced to move. āOw, ow, owā¦ā
āEasy, Sec!ā Blue consoled, the gentle heart being by their side in an instant. She carefully positioned her hands on their back and chest to help them back down. āTake slow, deep breathsā¦ there you go, youāre almost thereā¦ā
Slow and steady, Second pushed past the pulses of torment to lie on their back. The worst of the pain faded, though uncomfortable aches still wracked their entire body. Following Blueās advice, Second began to take in deep breaths, holding them for a short time before exhaling. Breathing clearly made it easier to relax their muscles, which in turn made the painā¦ not disappear, but lessen just a tad.
Blue was suddenly shoved to the side, and Redās face appeared in her place. āSec! Oh man dude, you had us so worried!ā Out of the corner of their eye, Second could see Purple nod in agreement.
āHey, give them some space!ā Green scolded as he pulled Red back.
Yellow snickered, and Second tilted their head as much as the pain would allow to glance at her. She was sat in Mangoās ridiculously large armchair, her leg propped up on the coffee table before her with an ice bag on top. Looking over their friends, Second found that they were all sporting various bruises, cuts, and lumps. Even Mango, the least harmed of the sticks, had clearly irritated eyes and dark purple spots on his forearms.
They did this, Second realized. After everything, theyād hurt the people they cared about most. Again.
āAre you alright?ā Mangoās voice, unusually kind, cut through the self-loathing that was starting to dominate Secondās thoughts. He towered over Blue as he gazed down at them. āI know you have healing powers, but it might be best to let a doctor look you over. I can get you to the hospital in less than ten minutes.ā
āHospitalā¦?ā Second repeated, swallowing down a fresh lump of nerves. A hospital meant doctors ā scientists, men in coats, isolated in tiny space, donāt move, itās for your own goodā¦ āN-no, Iām okay. Iāll heal myself once Iāve got a little more energy.ā
āYouāre sure?ā Asked Mango. When Second made a small sound of affirmation, he relented, albeit a little reluctantly. āAlright, Iāll let it go for nowā¦ but Iād like to change the topic, if you donāt mind.ā Mango took a spot on the couch, careful not to touch Second in any way. āWhat did you mean when you said you ābroke space timeā?ā
There was a glint in Mangoās eyes that brought an entirely new sense of discomfort to Second, but they ignored it and did their best to explain, āItās like I said,ā Their throat was already beginning to ache from just this amount of talking, but it was easy enough for Second to ignore, āI- my powers used the picture as a sort of key frame, like in animation. You can jump between key frames to get to dynamic moments in the piece, to- to plan the pacing of-ā Judging from the look on Mangoās face, Second guessed that they were getting a little off-topic and tried to steer themselves back on track, āEr, anyway, the key frame created a portal back to the moment it was created and- and basically made a āsplitā, to bring them back here.ā
āA split?ā Yellow asked, stroking her chin curiously. āSo, does that mean theyāre copies?ā
Second shook their head instinctively, then winced at the resulting ache. āNot quiteā¦ itās more like, I split the timeline? Since everyoneās memories of Purple and Mango are in tact and history clearly didnāt change, itās likely I created an alternate worldline where those two sticks mysteriously vanished one day. You know, because I pulled them into the future.ā
āUmā¦ā Red looked completely lost, āOkay, can you explain that again, but in a way that makes sense?ā
Thank goodness Yellow took point, because Secondās head was already aching, their thoughts spinning as they tried to come up with another way to put it. Instead they laid back and listened as Yellow explained, āItās basically just alternate universes.ā She stated smoothly. āLike, instead of the timeline exploding or all of our memories altering to account for Mango mysteriously being brought into the future, instead thereās another world entirely identical to this one, except that Mango and that other stick donāt exist there, because theyāre here.ā
āIām still confused,ā Red said.
āFor now, just know that these are past versions of Mango and Gold Ochre.ā Purple summarized, āBut, manā¦ thatās incredible. We knew you were strong, dude, butā¦ā
Every pair of eyes was on Second, pinning them with a sudden pressure on their chest. More little murmurs broke out between Secondās friends, whispered words that they couldnāt quite make out, and Second forced their eyes shut. Unable to hear their friendsā conversations, Secondās traitorous brain filled in the blanks, shouting at them about how different they were, how dangerous they were. How they no longer belonged with these amazing, wonderful sticks. Second groaned and tried to drown out the chattering both in and out of their head, but it only made the voices louder.
Why did they have to be cursed like this? Why couldnāt they just go back to being normal?
āAll that aside,ā Green suddenly said, drawing attention back to him and away from Second. Freedom from the burden of being the center of attention muted the voices in their head, at least for now, āI think weāve waited long enough, so I wanna know. Who the heck is Gold?ā
Mango suddenly went rigid. He frowned coldly, glaring at nothing in particular, while Purple immediately moved to hover anxiously at his side. They reached to comfort him, but didnāt make contact before withdrawing and instead offering gentle reassurances. āItās okay. I can explain if you-ā
āSheās my kid,ā Mango finally revealed. Everything went quiet as the news echoed in their thoughts. āHeā¦ died a few months before I met Purple.ā Mangoās eyes suddenly darted up, meeting Secondās head on. āAnd you brought her back.ā
An awkward feeling settled over Second, as though they were taking credit for something they didnāt do. āI hadnāt exactly planned that,ā They reminded him, āI just wanted to fix what I broke.ā
āFix whatās brokenā¦ā Mango echoed, then huffed out a gentle laugh, āWell, you certainly fixed something. I donāt think I can ever repay this.ā Some sort of weight fell off of Mangoās shoulders, and he gratefully smiled down at them. The weight of his appreciation sat heavy on their chest. It didnāt feel like theyād done anything but mess things up, and yetā¦ theyād saved a life? The duality of their feelings clashed within Second, leaving them unable to vocalize their thoughts. Oblivious, Mango continued on, āNow itās just a matter ofā¦ explaining this whole mess to them,ā He visibly winced, āThatās gonna be ugly.ā
Second, sensing the discord in his tone, immediately volunteered. āI can do it,ā They proclaimed, āIām the one who brought them here, so it only makes senseā¦ā
āAppreciate the thought, kid,ā Despite his words, the disapproval was clear through Mangoās tone, ābut this is kind of a family matter. I wouldnāt feel right about having you do my job. Besides,ā He tossed a side eye to Red, Blue, and Green, all of whom, Second noted uneasily, were watching them with very intense expressions, āI think if you try to get up off that couch, your friends are going to duct tape you to it.ā
Unable to deny that, Second agreed, āOkay, fair enough,ā Then they chuckled, āHeh, at least theyāre letting me sleep for once.ā
For some reason, Red burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
Meanwhile Purple stood up, eagerly rushing to Mangoās side. āIāll come help!ā They offered.
āThatās not a good idea either,ā Mango told them, and if he noticed how their entire form seemed to slump, he didnāt comment on it, āIf I know myself as well as I think I do, then I know exactly how my past self will react to the news that Goldās dead, andā¦ā A haunted shadow fell over the old manās eyes, āI donāt think you need to see that side of me again. In the meantime, hold down the fort here. Iām officially putting you in charge.ā
āWait, whyās Purple in charge?ā Yellow complained.
Mango side-eyed the lot of them, as though they were the ones whoād almost blown up an entire video game world, āBecause theyāre the only ones Iām certain wonāt try and get themselves killed the moment Iāve left.ā Mango stood up and walked towards the bedroom hallway, paused for just a moment, and then picked something off of his bookshelf. A dusty relic, shimmering bronze in a painfully familiar circlet. A crown.
Probably Purpleās, though Mango didnāt seem to have any reservations about borrowing it. He waltzed out with only a wave backwards, which Purple echoed with drained melancholy.
Once Mango was gone, Red took his place sitting next to Second, plopping down with a raspberry. āSo, what, we just wait around for them to wake up?ā
Purple shrugged. āI guess-ā They were cut off by a loud roar, fierce and angry like a lion, and Purpleās face started glow bright pink.
Yellow couldnāt help but poke fun at the suffering stick, āAw, is someone a little hungy~?ā She cooed.
āAgh, will you shut up?!ā Snapped the mess of a stick, āI didnāt exactly get the change to eat after you guys showed up. We did make a lasagna, butā¦ā Purpleās voice trailed off, and without further explanation they disappeared.
Oh yeah. In addition to all the other problems theyād caused, Second had ruined Purple and Mangoās dinner. It wasnāt much of an offense, in comparison to all the other events of that day, but it felt like the sour cherry on top of the melted garbage sundae.
Soon enough Purple returned, oven mitts covering their hands and a casserole dish carefully carried along with them. The look on their face was uncertain and vaguely disturbed as they presented what was supposed to be their dinner to the group. A perfectly normal, if underdone, lasagna, with the added twist that it glowed a sickly green.
āUhhā¦ā Second couldnāt tear their eyes off of the abomination. āWhoops.ā
Red twisted away from the cursed creation, staring at it as though expecting it to attack. Green and Blue each approached to investigate themselves. Greenās nose wrinkled as he got closer. Uneasy silence covered the room as they all wondered just what Secondās power had done to the poor thing.
Then, at last, Blue shrugged and pulled a knife and fork out of nowhere. āMeh, Iāll still eat it.ā
Everyoneās horrified expressions shifted from the monstrous creation to the monstrous stick. Green looked vaguely ill. āDude,ā He stared in disbelief, āThat thingās like, three different kinds of radioactive.ā
āIāve put worse things in my mouth.ā
--------------------
Soft sunlight poured through the window, gently caressing Mangoās face with unseasonable warmth. His eyes fluttered open, his blurred vision gradually clearing to reveal the familiar sight of his childās bedroom ceiling. Spending nights here wasnāt an uncommon occurrence, especially when Gold was younger and afraid of what might be hiding in the roomās darkest corners, but what bugged Mango were the holes in his memory. He and Gold had just returned from a tournament, that he recalled. Theyād celebrated and begun planning dinner, and thenā¦ nothing. Just a deep-rooted sense of unease and a blinding green light assaulting his eyes.
Propping himself up on his elbows, Mangoās attention was immediately drawn to the divot in the mattress right next to him, where Gold was curled up at his side. She was unharmed ā which thank goodness, but why would he think she was hurt? - and slumbering as soundly as she always did, her breath escaping in sweet little whistles.
āGold?ā He grabbed her by the shoulder and gave her a rousing shake.
Like the deep log-sawer she was, Gold grumbled and groaned at his prodding. Her face pinched as she resisted the toll of the living world, grumbling and groaning at Mangoās attempts to awaken her. āFive more minuteeesā¦ā She whined, pulling her pillow around her ears in an adorable fluff sandwich.
Though he couldnāt shake the nerves wracking his entire body, Mango found himself smiling at the adorable sight. āCāmon, honey, get up,ā He nudged her a few more times, and she complied with a ridiculous amount of effort, picking herself up like she had suddenly doubled in weight. She let out a cute little kitten yawn, stretching up so high he was sure sheād reach the ceiling. Turing, who gave this kid permission to get so big? Mango would have to have words with them.
Once she got her bearings, Gold looked around and immediately put on a puzzled frown, āMm, dad?ā He asked, his voice shifting in a subtle way, āWhen did we go to bedā¦?ā
āStill putting that together, hun,ā Mango answered. There was an itching at the back of his neck, a nagging sense of forgetting something important, but whatever it was kept escaping his grasp every time he reached for it.The oncoming migraine was already clawing at his skull.
The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the air, forcing every thought in Mangoās head to a grinding halt. Instinct had him throwing an arm up to push Gold behind him, only barely registering the kidās gasp, before he turned to glare firmly at this intruder. Then his glare dropped in shock as he found himself face to face withā¦ himself.
Or, at least, a man who looked nearly identical to him. Instead of neatly tying back his hair he let it hang haphazardly off his shoulders, with bangs and curls jutting in every direction. Dark shadows lined hie sunken eyes, with little hints of redness indicating a level of exhaustion Mango hadnāt felt since Gold was an infant. Even his clothes were a wreck; ever since Gold became old enough to start doing his own laundry Mango had made a point of keeping his own clothing as neat and pressed as he could, if only to set an example. So while the wrinkled, stained clothes didnāt turn him off as much as it would other sticks, it was certainly startling to see.
āNice to see youāre both awake,ā He commented coolly, not yet addressing the blatant elephant in the room. His voice was like a recording of Mangoās own, altered mildly to add some huskiness.
āWait, dad? But youāreā¦ and youā¦?ā Goldās head spun back and forth as he looked between his father and his fatherās perfect doppelganger. The poor dear seemed so lost. Finally, he pulled his head over Mangoās still extended arm to whisper a little too loudly, āDad, do you have a secret twin you never told me about?ā
Before Mango could respond, Mango- the other Mango, ah heck, that was gonna get confusing ā answered in his place. āNot exactly, honey. Itās a bit more complicated than that, butā¦ā He stepped a little closer, and smiled a tiny, broken smile, āItās so good to see you.ā
A sinking weight began to form in Mangoās gut at the sound of his voice. There was sincere, unadulterated joy there, and while Mango would never be unhappy to see his kid, there was something under the happiness that was far more desperate than he was comfortable hearing in his own voice. His eyes, though darkened by the shadows of exhaustion, were shimmering as unshed tears reflected the sunlight.
āI understand why you might be confused. Iāll explain everything in a moment, but Iād like to begin by re-introducing myself.ā To that end, his other self sauntered across the floor with surprising confidence for someone who was clearly such a mess, grabbing Goldās nearby desk chair and spinning it around to sit backwards in it, in exactly the same way heād always scolded Gold for, and placed some cheap looking prop crown atop his messy mane. āYou may call me āKingā. At least for now, so people can tell us apart.ā
Gold blinked dumbly at his fatherās doppelganger for a moment, then a bright, wide grin stretched across his face, āWhoa!ā He cried out, pure excitement dancing in his eyes, āYou look so cool!ā
āYou look ridiculous,ā Mango informed him matter-of-factly.
āI know,ā King stated, dramatically tossing his hair back with one hand. He didnāt specify who he was agreeing with, āBut to get back to the subject at handā¦ā For a moment this King guy hesitated, slumping and folding his hands in his lap before eventually proceeding, āThereās no real way to ease you into it, so Iām just going to come out and say it: Youāre in the future. About two years in the future.ā
Mango could feel his eyes widen. Goldās fingers dug into his arm as he gasped, āThe futureā¦?ā
āIndeed,ā Confirmed King, and his eyes crinkled in amusement.
This new knowledge had Mango looking over their surroundings with fresh eyes. Something about Goldās room was different. Not in the sense that it had been rearranged or had needed repaired in some way, but that it feltā¦ uncanny. It had a level of order that was very unlike Gold. There were no books left out, no school supplies haphazardly thrown around, no broken boards from Goldās attempts to learn some new move. Everything was arranged like some sort of display room; too nicely, too neatly, contradicted only by the scent of dust lingering in the air.
Kingās broken smile as he looked upon Gold came back to mind, and the knot in Mangoās gut tightened.
āWhoa, thatās- thatās crazy!ā Gold pushed past Mangoās arms to crawl closer to King, totally enraptured by the infinite possibilities the future might bright. āDo you call yourself King because you rule the world? Has there been some kind of crazy apocalypse and youāre leading the survivors? Has the Internet ended!?ā
Before Gold could take his hyperactive, overly imaginative questioning any further, Mango took the reigns and pulled Gold back by his collar, āEasy, Hon,ā Mango scolded lightly, āRemember, itās only been about two years. I donāt think the world wouldāve ended in that time.ā Much less Mango becoming some sort of monarch, but that thought was so ridiculous it didnāt need to be said. What idiot would make Mango a king?
King stood surprisingly rigidly, lookingā¦ too uncomfortable at questions he shouldāve very well expected from his kid, āA lot can happen in two years.ā He informed them both without any further elaboration.
āStill!ā Gold pumped his arms up in excitement, his sunny smile shining so bright that even dull, downtrodden King seemed to lighten up, āYouāve gotta have so many crazy stories! Like that big fair coming up this summer,ā That made King visibly flinch, raising so many more alarm bells in Mangoās head, āor-!ā Gold gasped, āThe next tournament! You gotta tell me how Iāll do! Do I win?! Did I screw it up?! How many people did I beat?!ā
The look on Kingās face was visibly pained, and the weight in Mangoās stomach became a black hole. It sucked in everything ā his feelings, his attention, his damned air ā as a terrible puzzle began to put itself together in his head. The dust on everything. The longing in Kingās eyes. The exhaustion that encumbered every inch of his form.
No. No, Iām just imagining things. Thereās no way-
A sigh, and King sunk in on himself, looking every bit like a monarch burdened with the weight of the world. āThere areā¦ some things you need to know. Donāt get up, this is going to be a long storyā¦ā
--------------------
Of all the things Purple had thought theyād be doing with tonightās dinner, playing some odd combination of keep away and football was not what they expected.
The ball, also known as the āradioactive lasagna abominationā, was held high above Purpleās head as Blue stretched herself to try and steal it from them. It was all in good fun; Blue wasnāt seriously trying to fight Purple, and Green had decided it was safe enough to not risk worsening his potential concussion. Instead he sat off to the side, offering wayward advice and vague warnings to help keep the lasagna out of Blueās clutches. Red was cheering over in vaguely the direction of the couch, more on the side of chaos than either of his friends. Meanwhile Second and Yellow, while initially entertaining themselves by watching, had quickly grown tired of the antics and were quietly talking amongst themselves about quantumā¦ something? Purple wasnāt smart enough to be able to figure out what they were talking about from just the little snippets they could overhear. Not when they had to focus entirely on Blue.
The thing about Blue was that she was ever so slightly taller than Purple, tall enough that Purple had to lean back to keep the lasagna away from her. This inevitably lead to them losing their balance and falling flat on their face, nose inches away from the glowing casserole. Its smell smacked Purple with a repugnant odor, like the food was three weeks out of date, and they gagged involuntarily. How could Blue even want to put this disgusting thing in her mouth?
When theyād fallen Blue had landed on top of Purple, and it took almost no time for her to begin scrambling forth to get at the lasagna. Purple sharply butted her chin with their head and slipped out from under her to take hold of the dish once again. They were only up on their feet for a moment before Blue charged after them.
Panicked, Purple began frantically scanning all around the room, from table to window to houseplant, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to get rid of this radioactive time bomb before Blue could make the mistake of eating it. Finally they caught sight of the open window on top of the door, the same one Yellow had jokingly implied the group had entered through earlier, and without a momentās hesitation they got into form and began to spin, building up momentum, all the while aware of Blueās heavy footsteps stomping closer and closer. Just moments before Blue could grab them they tossed the lasagna like a discus, sending it flying over the door, out the window, and into Mangoās front yard.
Everyone froze. Silence fell over them all before slowly, gingerly, three sticks made their way towards the door. Green first, getting up off his chair to inspect the damage, then Purple, then Blue sheepishly trailing behind. The sun was starting to go down, but there was still plenty of summer sun warming their faces as they stepped outside. It took a moment to find the lasagna ā the thing had flown roughly thirty meters once it exited the house, landing food side down in one of the neighborās flowering bushes.
...There was smoke coming from the hydrangeas. The entire plant withered in double speed; its leaves going black and stems drooping down. The delicate pink petals shriveled up and fell off. Soon enough those poor flowers were dead, a single wilted shrub amongst the rainbow that decorated the neighborās front lawn.
Silence reigned for a heavy second. Then Blue made a sound like a small āmeepā, her hands flying up to stroke her jaw, as if verifying that it was indeed still in tact.
ā...And this is why we donāt like it when you put random things you find on the ground in your mouth.ā Green scolded, sounding more tired than genuinely angry. His fingers were massaging his temples in a vain attempt to stave off what was no doubt a resurgence of his earlier migraine.
Blue anxiously tapped her fingers as she murmured in acknowledgment, āYeah, Iām gonna go try and get that pan back before someone noticesā¦ Sorry, Purpleā¦ā
With that Blue trudged out into the big stick world all on her own, tiptoe and tumbling across the lawn as though avoiding the gaze of some non-existent sentry. Nobody was present, of course ā after moving in Purple began keeping meticulous track of the neighbors comings and goings, mostly for safety reasons but also for their own amusement, and knew none of the neighbors who would care would be home for several hours. Everyone else knew how to mind their own business, so Purple gave Green a casual shrug and made their way back inside.
If there had been any tension inside from the Great Lasagna Toss, it had completely dissipated by the time Purple had returned. Second and Yellow had roped Red into joining whatever conversation they were having, and though Red looked to be developing a migraine on par with Greenās, he seemed to at least be beginning to understand what they were talking about.
āSo a āfixed timelineā means that nothing you can do will altar the past and change the future, even if you tried to directly?ā Red asked.
Yellow nodded, seemingly satisfied with how Redās slap-dash time travel education was coming along, āExactly. The most common reason for this is the single timeline theory. If you time travel, you will always have time traveled, and so the time travel was a canonical event from the beginning. But there are versions of this theory that say the universe will altar itself in order to course correct. Things can only go one way, and thereās no changing fate,ā She hummed, stroking her chin, āThatās actually one of my primary concerns with the current situation. Maybe we can stop Gold from dying, but in doing so we may be condemning them to an even worse death later.ā
Purpleās heart jolted in their chest. They jumped over to Yellow, startling the bright stick as she scrambled a little in response to their sudden closeness. āHey, hi. Maybe donāt say that in front of the Old Man? Like, ever?ā Without giving her a chance to respond, Purple continued, āI think heās had enough mental breakdowns for one day.ā
āNghā¦ā Second groaned from where they were still laying on the couch. There had been some positive progress, in that they could now turn their head and make tiny movements without crying from pain, but they still couldnāt pull themselves up into a sitting position, āThe more I think about this, the more I feel like I should be in there with him. I mean, Iām the one who brought them here, you know?ā
āUh-huh,ā Yellow agreed, though her eyebrow was quirked up at the sickly stick.
Second continued to ramble to all the sticks presence, barely paying mind to Green when he joined them, having apparently gotten bored of watching Blue stealth across the front lawn, āHe doesnāt even know about string theory, or multiple worldlines, or- or the risks of tearing a hole in space-time? Like, what if thereās some sort of backlash from using that much energy at once?ā Secondās face grew more and more tense as their rambles continued, āOr what if thereās actually still a microscopic black-hole in the kitchen, and it could tear open and swallow everything at any time?! Or-or-ā Seconds eyes seemed to lose focus as they gazed up at nothingness. Their voice got hoarser, their breathing harder, their speaking faster, āW-what if we were wrong about the multiple timelines thing, and the paradox of having past versions of two people here is slowly tearing the universe apart, bit by bit, until thereās nothing left but the cold, endless void-?!ā
āWhoa there, buddy, reel it back a little bit,ā Red was the first to break free of the stunned stupor Secondās stream of madness caused, but once he did he moved to Secondās side to place his hands on their shoulders. Judging by how Second didnāt so much as twitch at the contact, his touch must have been unusually gentle, āYouāre doing the thing again.ā
Secondās eyes were bulging out of their face, but in a strange way their confusion seemed to ground them, forcing Second to focus on Red, āW-what thing?ā
āYou know, the thing,ā Red leaned over Second to make sure they could see him as he continued, āThat spiraling thing you do, where your train of thought hits, like, this tiny little pebble of random danger and goes flying off the rails into this insane paranoia tornado, until it goes crashing back down into the central station of common sense,ā A grin fit for a clown spread wide across Redās face as he described this phenomenon, āYou know, that thing?ā
Whatever the intention of Redās comment, it at least got Second to calm down, even if it was only by making them more annoyed than worried, āI do not do that,ā They insisted.
Greenās snickering laugh only increased the level of petty pout that Second was putting on, āYou totally do, dude!ā
āMajority rules,ā Yellow added, smugly pushing her glasses up her nose.
In desperation, Second tilted their head towards Purple, āI donāt do that, right Purple?ā
āI may not be a quantum physicist like you and Yellow,ā The violet stick crossed their arms and leaned back, ābut I am not stupid enough to get in the middle of this.ā
Howling laughter erupted from the other three sticks, and Second sighed melodramatically, head slumping back on the couch, āI hate you all,ā They declared in a weary sigh.
āAw,ā Red cooed, moving his hands to cautiously squish secondās face, āIs da wittle cwybaby feewing gwumpy?ā
Secondās face lit up in a bright green blush, āWhat did I do to deserve this?ā
Purple felt lighter as they laughed along with everyone. They hadnāt realized just how rigidly theyād been holding themselves until all that tension was forced out of them by a little dose of joy. That was the nice things about these guys; no matter how bad the circumstances, no matter what horrors life put them through, they always managed to come out the other side whole and together. What was it that got them through the tough times? Was it one anchor that held them together, like Secondās protective attachment, or Greenās compassion? Was it all of their good traits coming together, making something greater than the sum of their parts? Or maybe they just loved each other that much, that they could manifest happy endings for themselves by believing hard enough?
Envy scratched at Purpleās insides, just the same as it did every time they saw the colourful group together, but its insistent scratching got softer and quieter every time they got together. Though their earlier thoughts about Gold proved Purple was still a terrible person, they felt like being around the others was slowly, surely, making them better. At least, they really hoped so.
The merriment of the moment was interrupted by a loud, angry, āYou son of a bitch!ā, followed by a thump that seemed to shake the house.
Second was first to react, immediately trying to sit up, but Red vetoed that idea by pushing down on their shoulders roughly enough that Second winced. āStay down, ya masochist!ā He scolded, āWe got this! Come on, guys!ā
The prompting shook Purple out of their momentary shock to follow Red out of the room, heart racing. Heavy footsteps behind them indicated that Green was following as well, racing along in tandem through the side hallway where the bedrooms were. They filed past Mangoās Purpleās door to reach Goldās, and Red yanked it open to exactly the sight Purple had been afraid of. The younger Mango had knocked down the older one, pinning him with his weight and attempting to punch his lights out. Old Man Mango was barely blocking his blows with his already bruised forearms, wincing visibly with every hit. Purpleās crown, once proudly displayed in the living room along with one of Goldās trophies, had been knocked to the ground in the middle of the chaos.
Purpleās breath hitched.
āD-dad, please-!ā Gold was crying, visible tears running down his face. Her entire body was shaking, āPlease, c-calm down!ā
āHow could you?!ā Younger Mango seemed deaf to everything, even his own child, at that moment, āHow could you let this happen?!ā
All Old Man Mango did in response was grunt as he was hit again.
Nobody was moving forward to stop this mess; Red and Green were utterly petrified, and Gold was clearly not in any state to do anything. So without further thought Purple leapt into action, barreling into the forbidden space and grabbing onto the younger Mangoās arm. The sudden touch had him turning his tearful, angry glare at Purple. Ice spread through Purpleās veins as their eyes made contact, freezing them in place for the entire half-second it took for Mangoās fist to connect with their face.
Pain exploded across their cheek and traveled through their entire head, and for a moment Purple felt so much younger, so much smaller. A tall stick, the same colour as the sunset the night sky towered above them, looking down at his their child with wild, frightened eyes. You need to get up, Purple! Their voice echoed through Purpleās ears, ringing heavily with each throb of pain, You need to fight, Purple! I canāt protect you forever, Purple-!
āPurple!ā
Jolting back into reality, Purple blinked away their blurred vision and found warm orange replacing cold navy. The Old Man Mango had finally stopped letting himself be used as a punching bag and was hovering anxiously over them, hands reaching out but seemingly unable to bridge the gap between them. Beyond the clear horror, Mango wore guilt plain on his face, looking close to tears yet again. Overā¦ Purple? Or scaring Gold, maybe?
Whatever it was, the hysteria of his current mood remained in the old manās voice when he called out again, āPurple! Are you alright?!ā
The throbbing pain lingering in their jaw, but at that moment all Purple wanted was for the Old Man to stop looking at them like they were some kicked puppy. The way his eyes bore into them, with lingering tears and intense focus, was making their heart clench painfully tight and their chest fill with a strange warmth. So Purple playfully smacked away his stalling hands and smiled their biggest, brightest smile, āPfft, Iām fine. Iāve taken hits twice that hard when I was half this size.ā
Mango retreated a little at Purpleās words, no longer bordering on the edge of hysteria but still looking very uncomfortable, āI know youāre trying to make me feel better, but thatās actually doing the opposite.ā
Not even bothering to hide their rolling eyes, Purple quickly surveyed the room again. Poor Gold was the first thing they noticed; their eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as they covered their gaping mouth, horrified at what their father had just done. On the opposite side of the room, Green was being held back by Red. He glared daggers at the younger Old Man, who in turn was staring at Purple themselves with shock andā¦ something else, something dark, that made Purpleās insides squirm in familiar fear.
Why? What did they do besides get punched out?
Some sort of accord seemed to have been reached between Red and Green, the two briefly nodding at each other in the corner of Purpleās vision before separating. Red lazily jogged along the outer edges of the room while Green approached the younger Mango and grabbed his arm roughly, āWell, since you two are clearly going to behave like children,ā Green scolded as he dragged Young Mango over to Old Mango, only to do the same to him, āThen weāre going to have to treat you like children. Red!ā
A sharp squeaking noise flooded the room, signaling that Red had yanked opened the closet door, and without further notice Green pushed both adults inside. Red slammed the closet door closed immediately once the two were inside, and Purple was joining in on their mutiny before their brain could fully comprehend what was happening, grabbing the knocked over chair from Goldās desk and using it to prop the door shut. With the chair wedged firmly in place, the thumps from within the sealed room had no hope of breaking free.
āHey!ā One of the two old men called out from within, beating on the door with such force Purple could swear they could see it shaking, āLet us out of here, you damned brats!ā The pounding of their fists against it matched the pounding of Purpleās heart as they realized Holy Heck they just locked their guardian in the closet-!
Red leaned against the door with a smug aura. From the safety of the outside he taunted, āNope~! Naughty adults have to be punished in the time out zone~!ā
āListen, you little-!ā
āDonāt bother,ā A more tired version of the same voice reasoned with the angry one, āThey wonāt listen to you anyways.ā
Maybe it was how calm the Mango heād always known sounded in the midst of all this chaos, or maybe the shock of the situation was finally starting to wear off, but Purple suddenly found themselves grinning at this ridiculous situation, āCāmon, Old Man,ā They teased, hearing a bristling repetition of the nickname from who they were sure was the younger of the two, āYou know you canāt really come out of the closet until you truly accept yourself.ā
Who the heavy sigh that followed came from didnāt even need clarification, nor did the mumbling of, āPurple, I swear to Turing-ā
As Green and Red went over the security on the door to be sure the two fighting adults couldnāt just bust their way out, Purple found themselves turning back to Gold, who had been watching the entire circus play out with utter shock. Purple had guessed from pictures that they and Gold were around the same height, but the way he curled in on himself made them look so much smaller, so much more fragile. It wasnāt easy seeing a parent lose themselves to their own madness, Purple sympathized. Especially when learning about your own death was the catalyst.
So Purple approached and, making sure not to startle her by speaking too loudly, asked, āHey, how are you doing?ā
Gold jumped a little at suddenly being addressed, anxiously twiddling his fingers as he answered, āUh, fine, Iām fine, Iāmā¦ sorry, I shouldāve done something to stop them, or help, but-ā
āI think we can excuse you for being a littleā¦ out of it today,ā Consoled Purple. They felt like they should do comfort them ā rub the kidās shoulder, hug her, something ā but the full weight of the situation kept them standing awkwardly still. Eventually, Purple managed to break the silence, āIām Purple, by the way. I usually go by they/them.ā
They held out their hand, and after a moment of silent staring Gold took it, āUh, Gold. Iām- Iām a guy, at least for now. Thatāll probably change, but Iāll let you know when it does.ā Despite his clear discomfort, Gold forced a familiar smile onto his face. The family resemblance between father and son was so strong it wouldāve been impossible not to see the Old Man in Gold.
āThanks!ā Red chimed in, sliding up to them from the side, āIām Red, and thatās Green. Weāre guys too! Mostly!ā
Green rolled his eyes as he sauntered up behind Red. āChill out, dude. Cāmon, we should leave Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dork to their suffering and introduce Gold to the others.ā
āOthers? There are more of you guys?ā Gold asked, too stunned to protest as Red and Green practically pushed him out of the room, āD-did my dad start an orphanage or something after I died?ā
Purple couldnāt hold back their snorting laughter, āNah, Iām the only one who lives here. Everyone else is just freeloading until further notice.ā
---------------------
SO. Today hadnāt been going exactly like Gold planned.
He thought heād be winning the tournament today, taking home a trophy just as golden and shiny as his colouring, but managed to flub it up at the last moment. Then, before Gold could even start to lick his wounds, he and his father were thrust years ā literal years ā into the future, where Gold was dead and his dad looked halfway to it. Theyād gotten as far as the incident at the fair before his other father completely lost his marbles and began trying to beat himself to death, only for some poor other kid to suffer the consequences.
Now he was standing awkwardly in his own living room, so familiar yet so different, where a rainbow of strangers were hanging around with a variety of injuries.
āBlueās not back?ā Green asked as they all entered and wait, this wasnāt all of them???
One of them, a yellow stick with glasses, shook their head, āProbably still stealthing her way back. Iām sure sheāll-ā
The front door exploded open with enough force that Gold was certain the old bat next door heard (if she was still alive after two years, dear programmers itād been two years-), and a bright blue stick with a cheeky grin and one of dadās new two year old casserole dishes held over her head triumphantly. āBehold! I have retrieved the evidence!ā She looked around the room, stopped her gaze at Gold, and blinked owlishly for a long moment, āUh, I feel like I missed something.ā
Green openly snorted, āA few things.ā He agreed, waltzing past Gold without concern to plop down next to the messed of a stick laying on the couch. Without even looking he took this stickās hand and continued conversing with the blue stick, poking some eating related jab at them. Looking past them, Gold did a double take as he finally caught sight of the kitchen and holy heck what happened to the kitchen?!
A violet hand on his shoulder made Gold jump momentarily, glancing back to see Purple smiling kindly despite the fresh bruise on their face. He wasnāt quite sure what to make of Purple; theyād been so nice, even after Goldās dad straight up punched them in the face. A part of Gold felt like they were taking advantage of Purpleās hospitality after what dad had done, but an even bigger part was grateful for something ā anything ā to cling on to in the middle of this insanity.
āYeah, sorry ābout the mess,ā Purple gestured vaguely to the ruined room, shrugging, āAs it turns out, time travel has some wicked side effects. Including literally exploding.ā
The stick on the couch, who Gold had assumed was asleep (or maybe in a coma), mumbled an exhausted, āSorryā¦ā before rolling a little to better face the others.
āAh, right, let me introduce everyone!ā Purple leapt out from behind Gold to take center stage. It was obvious to Gold how they reveled in the spotlight, every gesture made being grand and graceful, āFirstly, presenting the perilous potion pilferer, the gluttonous god of the grill, the mighty Miss Blue!ā The blue stick had seated herself on the arm part of Dadās armchair, snickering at Purpleās introduction, āSitting next to her, measuring up at a whopping 1500 grams of brains and 50 grams of muscles-ā
āHey,ā The Yellow stick warned, not bothering to wipe the amused smile from their face. Gold brought a hand up to his mouth to help hold in his giggling.
ā-Her sassiness, the Unyielding Miss Yellow!ā Purple spun around the armchair to stand between it and the couch, āNow, youāve already been introduced to the Wrathful Red,ā Purple presented Red who, despite his title, was grinning like heād just won the lottery as he posed, āAnd Green the Guileless!ā Green rolled his eyes playfully, āBut be prepared, for our last friend is certainly not our least. They are the worldās deadliest mom friend, a hot-headed herald of hibernationā¦ā Purple presented the stick on the couch with jazz hands, āThe Second Coming~!ā
The others let out a round of whoops and hollers that didnāt seem particularly appreciated by this Second Coming character, who waved everyone off with a grumpy frown. āYou can just call me Second,ā They informed Gold in a mumble. While they werenāt as visibly injured as everyone around them, they made up for that by looking deathly ill. Their eyes were practically swallowed by dark circles, and their exposed flesh was clammy and pale.
Dropping the act, Purple seemed a little more serious as they informed him, āSecondās the one who brought you here with their super powers. It kinda drained them.ā
Goldās mouth was open before he could even fully take in the information, āOh, so thatās why they look like a drowned cat.ā
Immediately his eyes bulged out of their sockets, and howling laughter flooded the air from the other sticks. Why did he say that?! What in the Outernet made him say that to the stick who SAVED HIS LIFE?!?!
Second looked like they were suppressing a grimace, āGee, thanks.ā
Waving his hands frantically, Gold immediately tried to eat his words, swallow them, anything to take them back and redo his introduction, āI am SO sorry! I-I donāt even know why I said that, that was SO stupid-!ā
āHey, hey,ā Second awkwardly consoled, slowly lifting themselves up into a sitting position. Everyone who could stand immediately stood at attention, watching their change of position with hyper-vigilance, āItās okay, letās justā¦ start over,ā They lifted their arm with shaking effort, managing a grin for Gold, āHi, Iām Second.ā
Feeling a little relief wash over him, Gold reached over and carefully took his hand, giving it a light shake, āIām Gold. Itās nice to meet you.ā
Secondās eyes remained trained on Goldās face the entire time, watching him as if looking for something, and Goldās muscles locked up as he struggled not to look away. It felt like those emerald eyes were trying to pierce through his very soul. After a moment, a wide smile spread across Secondās face, āWhatās wrong? You look like a cat thatās about to be drowned.ā
Everyone laughed even longer and louder than before as Goldās jaw dropped. Once his brain caught up with the present, Gold found himself joining in on the merriment, āOkay, okay, thatās fair.ā He agreed. Greenās arm slung around his shoulder, and Gold found himself feeling surprisingly warm. Despite how crazy his life was right now, even with his dad locked in the closet for actual assault, Gold found himself feeling genuinely relaxed. He felt likeā¦ things would be okay.
A pained stomach grumbling out interrupted Goldās thoughts, and everyone turned to Purple with various levels of amusement. āGeez, you still havenāt shut that thing up?ā Green teased, his arm still around Goldās shoulders.
āWith what?!ā Purple asked, āIn case you havenāt noticed, the kitchenās still wrecked!ā
Gold perked up a little. All this time he had been allowing himself to be drawn along by the chaos, going along with everyone else and allowing himself to be comforted by the generosity. But this was Goldās house too, and a little nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that Gold had the power to give back, at least a little, for everything theyād done for him. Like giving him comfort and taking his mind off things and saving his damn life.
āOoh! I can handle that!ā Gold informed the others triumphantly, before pulling away to sprint towards the living roomās bookshelf. Once it had been neatly arranged; there had been a separate shelf for dadās manuals, dadās novels, Goldās novels, and Goldās comic books, but now books of various genres and owners were mixed up. There were also books about flower meanings and game guides mixed in, as well as novels from medieval fantasies that Gold assumed were Purpleās, on account of this being a genre neither Gold nor his father were into. But pressed against the very same spot as it was two years ago was One Hundred and One Ways To Pick Up Sticks. Dad had told Gold it had been a tasteless gift after a bad breakup, but it did have its uses. Like, for example, being ridiculously large and thick for the type of book it was.
Gold opened the hollowed out book and took a wad of the large amount of cash ā not as much as two years ago, he noted, but still plenty ā before turning around to wave the fistful of bills for the others to see. Yellowās eyes lit up as she squealed, and everyone else seemed to freeze in place at the sight of real money.
Purpleās mouth fell open in shock, āWait, he had a secret stash this whole time?!ā They scowled, āThat cheap Old Manā¦ā
āNice!ā Blue recovered first, grinning wickedly. She rubbed her hands together and licked her lip. On the opposite side of Yellow, Green and Red exchanged a high-five, grinning wickedly.
Only Second seemed to hold some reluctance, āUh, is it really okay for us to use that?ā
āGeez, you really are the mom friend,ā Purple rolled their eyes, plopping down on the couch near Secondās feet.
Still, the worried look on their face was making Goldās stomach squirm, so he held up a finger and declared, āWell, why donāt we ask him?ā Turning towards where his bedroom was in the house, Gold raised his voice and shouted, āHey, Dad! Weāre gonna use some of the emergency fund to order out! If thatās not okay, say something!ā Gold held a hand up his ear to amplify his hearing, and waited.
And waited.
And waitedā¦
After a few more seconds of nothingness, Gold shrugged, āGuess itās okay.ā
Second weakly smiled in response, āHeh, alright then.ā Their eyes fluttered a little, trying and failing to resist the siren song of slumber.
āPizza cool with everyone?ā Purple asked, already pulling out a cellular device. It was sleek and dark, with a protective jacket covered in adorable stickers. After receiving a round of affirmations, they nodded and began dialing.
āOh, make sure no meat for me!ā Red suddenly piped up.
Blue nodded thoughtfully, āIāve never gone full vegetarian with a pizza. That actually sounds pretty good!ā She licked her lips, no doubt imagining the taste of red sauce and vegetables on her tongue.
āIām good with whatever,ā Green piped up, āBut make sure to get something simple for Sec. They tend to like the more traditional pizzas, and theyāre already not feeling well, soā¦ā His hand found its way to Secondās head, gently petting through the long orange tangle of hair, and Second subconsciously pushed back into his touch.
Purple nodded along to their requests, taking clear note, āOkay, so weāll get three pizzas. One classic pepperoni, one veggieā¦ā Gold perked up, and quickly leapt to interrupt Purple and get his own favourite pizza added on.
āOh! Oh! Could the last one be Hawaiian?ā
ā-And the last will be Hawaiian, obviously.ā
The two sentences, spoken in perfect harmony, echoed through the living room as Purple and Goldās eyes met. Silence lingered in the air between them; It held no awkwardness or tension, only a strange sense of warmth and understanding. Somewhere deep inside of him, Gold could feel the spark of a new bond ignite.
Purple smiled, sauntered over to Goldās side, and tossed an arm over his shoulder, āGoldie,ā The violet stick smiled as they cheerfully proclaimed, āI think you and I are gonna get along juuust fine.ā
---------------------
Thump.
āArgā¦ come on!ā
Thump.
āWhy wonāt this stupid thing-ā
Thump.
āOpen?!ā
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Behind Mango, the so-called King sighed from the spot on the ground where heād made himself comfortable, āGive it a rest. Those kidās arenāt going to make it so easy for us to get out of here.ā
Spinning around on his heels, Mango glared furiously at this pathetic future version of himself. How could he just sit there, all poised and collected like their his child wasnāt out there, alone, grappling with the knowledge of his incoming death and stuck with a bunch of strangers. If anything he seemedā¦ detached, staring at the wall in front of him without an ounce of concern for what was going on. The expression on his face was completely and utterly devoid of emotion.
His blood began to boil.
āMaybe itād be a little easier,ā Mango sneered out under his breath, āif you did anything other than just sit there, you useless piece of-ā
King cut him off, āOh, shut up. Youāre giving me a migraine.ā As if to emphasize this point, King began digging his fingers into the temples of his skull, āTake it from someone whoās been there: You donāt want to fly off the handle at any little thing. Trust me, youāll end up regretting it.ā
Spinning on his heels, Mango leveled a glare at King. āThis isnāt any little thing!ā His fists twitched at his side, begging Mango to let them fly forth, to punish, to hurt. He held off for now, āThis is my baby! My Gold! Dying! How could you not be furious?!ā Just the thought of Goldās suffering constricted Mangoās lungs in his chest, making each inhale of air a fight, āHow could you just let this go?! Heās the only good thing in this cursors damned world, and heās gone!ā Turmoil churned in Mangoās gut, making him vaguely nauseous. He pushed through the pain, spitting it all back out at King, āHe was pulled into some game attraction, glitched out of existence, and you just sat back and watched! YOU LET HIM DIE!ā
He could see it now. Gold, pushing back against the pull of that accursed game, desperately reaching out to him, Dad! Dad, help me! Iām scared! Before his body would be overwhelmed by the errors, horror and pain spreading across his face as he was eaten alive-
Struggling to speak against his own heaving lungs, Mangoās volume lowered as he growled, āI donāt care what you say, I am not you. I would never sit back and do nothing while my child was murdered.ā
Throughout the tirade, King didnāt once speak up. Didnāt so much as twitch. He kept his gaze level and even on the wall opposite of him. āYouāre not telling me anything I havenāt already told myself,ā He responded coolly, far too coolly, once Mango was done. His vacant, uncaring eyes wouldnāt meet Mangoās, which boiled his blood hotter, āBut Iāve been where you are. I know exactly how youāre feeling, and I know that giving into that anger will just make things so much worse. If you donāt cool off, youāll end up doing something you regret.ā
āRegret more than letting my kid die?ā The idea was almost laughable, if it wasnāt so painfully stupid.
Finally King got off his lazy butt, standing and at last meeting Mangoās eyes. They were as cold and empty as King himself. āEarlier, when that kid tried to stop us from fighting, you swung your fists without even looking,ā The phantom pressure of that childās face danced across Mangoās knuckles, causing him to flex his fingers on impulse. He supposed the kid had been innocent in all this, but it was hard to feel bad when heād caught the look on his future selfās face; how could he have so much concern for this random bystander when his dead baby was right there? Oblivious, King continued, āDid it ever occur to you that it could have easily been Gold whoād tried to stop us instead?ā
Now that made Mangoās blood run cold, because he was certain his future self was right. If those kids hadnāt run in to interfere, Gold wouldāve tried to stop him as soon as the shock wore off. That was the kind of kid Gold was; sweet and selfless. And then he wouldāve punched his own child.
Pushing that thought of his head, Mango immediately redirected, āAre you sure itās Gold youāre worried about? Because you seemed awfully concerned about that other kidā¦ Purple, was it?ā Kingās brow furrowed in irritation, and Mango felt a small bit of pleasure in finally getting a reaction out of him, even if it confirmed his worst suspicions, āWho are they, anyways?ā
āTheyāreā¦ā King tripped over his tongue, looking away from Mango as he no doubt realized what Mango had, āItās complicatedā¦ā
āDoesnāt seem too complicated to me,ā Mango stepped into the otherās space, backing him into the wall. For a so-called King, he didnāt seem to have any of the qualities of a king: the decisiveness, the bravery, the poise. He was just a cowardly old man, with fear in his heart and sweat on his brow. āIt seems like you just picked up some random kid off the street to fill the hole in your life,ā King seemed to bristle at that, which only spurred Mango on, āYou disgusting, pathetic bastard. What kind of father are you, to just forget your child and replace them with-ā
That was as far as Mango got before he was thrust against the opposite wall, a bruised arm threatening to crush his windpipe. The Kingās eyes had gone wide and wild, like a feral dogās, and Mango reveled the fury, āPurple is NOT a replacement for Gold,ā He growled, voice low and dangerous, āNo one could EVER replace Gold.ā
Despite the pressure on his throat, Mango gave the other his biggest, smuggest grin, āWhat was it you said about giving into anger?ā
The single sentence caused King to remember himself, and he quickly retreated, leaving a vacuum of tension between them. He sighed, and attempted to wipe the anger from his eyes, and didnāt quite succeed, āI know how you feel because Iāve been there,ā King grumbled, āDo not presume to know how I feel in return. Purple is not Gold. They will never be Gold, and I donāt expect them to be Gold. I was going to tell the full story before you lost your shit, but to make it short, after Gold died, Iā¦ hurt people. A lot of people,ā As he spoke, Kingās eyes lost focus, staring at the wall in front of him without seeing anything, āI was going to kill them. I was going to kill myself. And I failed because of Purple. They saved me. I owe them my life- No. My life isnāt valuable enough. I owe them so much more than that.ā
A ghost of a smile formed on Kingās face. Mangoās stomach turned. How could thisā¦ sick monster smile while his baby was dead?
āIāve already been angry about Goldās death,ā Continued King. He sounded less angry with every sentence, which began eating away at Mangoās limited patience yet again, āI know what that feels like, what it does to me. But this isnāt a time to be angry. Thanks to thisā¦ miracle, I have a chance to change fate. Iām elated,ā Kingās hand reached up to brush his too long hair out of his face, smiling softly, āI can save my child.ā
āMy child,ā Mango interrupted insistently. Owlish blinking was what he got in response, and he sharpened his glare as he elaborated, āYour child, if youāll remember, is dead. Gold is my kid, and Iām not going to become you. I wonāt let anything happen to him.ā
King pressed his lips together thinly and stared at Mango, but did not protest. āFine. Whatever,ā He brushed off, āThatās not whatās important. The only thing that matters right now is Gold,ā For once, the King was speaking sense, āI wonāt try to make you like me, or pretend thatās even possible. But for Goldās sakeā¦ā An empty hand reached out, an olive branch of peace, āWeāll need to work together.ā
There was no need to elaborate further. This King was his and Goldās only connection in this world. It was still unclear if there was a way for the two to return to the past. Theyād need a safe place to say, and while this had once been Mangoās home, it now belonged to King. Two years was not a terribly long time, but it was more than enough to rock their worlds upside down. Theyād need to rebuild everything from scratch, and as much as he loathed this carefree version of himself, this King who as good as murdered his own child when he turned his back on Gold, they needed the safety and security he could provide. Furious as Mango was, he at least maintained enough pragmatism to see that.
So Mango stared the Usurper of his home in the eyes, and took the offered hand, āFine. For now. But the second Iām on my feet, Iām taking MY kid and weāre leaving.ā
āAs long as Goldās safe and happy,ā The King smiled a weary smile as he shook his hand, āThatās all that matters.ā
Once the truce was firmly established, Mango pulled his hand from Kingās grip and wiped it on his shirt. King took this opportunity to gently shove his way in front of Mango to inspect the sealed door. He first tried the knob, then knelled down and began banging at the door in random spots. āIf youāre trying to break through, youāre going to need more force than that,ā Mango advised, folding his arms, āI figured if we both hit it in tandem-ā
āWeāll break down the door,ā King put a single finger up, shushing Mango like a child, and then he beckoned with his hand to his seething younger self, ābut before we resort to destruction of property, hand me one of those hangers, will you? I want to try something.ā
Automatically, Mango reached up and took hold of one of the wire hangers. Letting this bastard boss him around was far from Mangoās idea of a good time, but at this point he just wanted out of the stupid closet.
King spun the wire hanger and began to methodically deconstruct it. Even the weakest of sticks were more than strong enough to bend the metal without use of any special equipment, so it was only a matter of seconds before King had untwisted the hanger out of shape. He then carefully bent the top into a hook-shape and slipped it through the crack on the side of the door. Mango leaned against the wall and simply watched. He was more than capable of putting together the plan, but wondered if it would really work, or how long it would take for Mango to take hold of the chair. If the wire metal would even have enough hold to pull the chair down with breaking or bending out of shape.
It did, in the end, but it took long enough that Mango had begun to nod off while leaning against the wall. The crash of the chair meeting the floor had been what startled him back into the world of the waking. Once his eyes were open, Mangoās eyes met Kingās, and it was only then that heād realized that his response had been to jump at the sound. There was an unpleasant crinkle of amusement around the foolish Kingās eyes as he stepped out, took back his crown, and mockingly bowed.
Smug bastard.
---------------------
Madame Marroneās Pizzeria wasnāt the best pizzeria Purple had ever eaten at. Heck, it wasnāt even the best one in delivery range, but it was fast and cheap and good for what it was, so it was Madame Marroneās chocolate brown visage on their pizza boxes when theyād finally arrived. Everyone was eager to dig in, and despite the initial scramble for the best, hottest slices, everyone worked in tandem to best serve each other. Green poured soft drinks with showmanship and flair, and Blue took care of Yellow and Second, so that they could get their fair share despite not being able to stand.
The Hawaiian pizza, which everyone else had stupidly left untouched, was shared equally between Gold and Purple. The Old Man had stared a hole through Purpleās head the first time theyād ordered pineapple pizza, looking like heād just seen a ghost. And now that they knew the reason, Purple could barely contain their laughter. Whoād have known that the crotchety Old Man would have such an amazing kid?
Because he did. Have an amazing kid, that is.
Over pizza, it became obvious to Purple why Goldās loss had hurt the Old Man so deeply. It wasnāt just that Gold was his kid ā it was because Gold was a one in a million child, especially kind and especially sweet. They had only known the gang for a few minutes, but they already fit in far faster than Purple had. It was like theyād always been one of them, joining in the jokes and ribbing as if it was second nature. Watching them interact made Purple feel cold and lonely.
They were a bad person.
Gold told them all what the Old Man had shared, and it had quickly become apparent that theyād only gotten partway through the tale before the Old Man who would be known as Mango assaulted the Old Man who would be known as King. The fact that Gold had no idea who any of them had been should have been Purpleās first clue, but in their defense theyād had more important things to focus on at the time. Theyād only managed to get to the point of Goldās demise before the chaos had broken out.
Red had winced, hearing the details of Goldās passing. āIām sorry, man,ā He sympathized, āMinecraft glitches are rough.ā Though the Booth Thirty incident and the āHerobrineā incident were two very different circumstances, it was likely the closest any of them could ever come to understanding what Gold went through.
āItās not like I actually experienced that,ā Gold shrugged off the show of empathy. Theyād all rearranged themselves after the pizza had arrived, and Gold had taken over the arm of the Old Manās armchair, right next to Yellow. āBut itās so weird to think about. I mean, I knew death was a thing, obviously, but Iāve never even lost someone before. Iāve never thought seriously about what happens after death. Have you guys?ā
Nobody seemed to be in a rush to answer that question, only exchanging nervous looks amongst themselves. Yellow stared directly at Second, while Blue and Red leaned in closer to them and Green took their hand. The group had all had their near death experiences in the past, but this didnāt feel like that. It felt like earlier, when the idea of taking Second to a hospital was brought up. Like they were keeping something from them.
Ignoring the tightening knot in their chest, Purple spoke up to finally respond to Gold. āI have,ā They confessed. It was hard to avoid that topic, when your last remaining family was slowly fading away in front of your eyes, āThey say when dataās deleted from a hard drive, itās never really completely gone. That some trace of it always remains. I donāt know if thatās true, but I want to believe it is.ā
Because it meant, in some way, that Purpleās mother had remained with them after her death. That Purple hadnāt been entirely alone. It was a cold comfort in the darkest of nights, when Purple had no company but the chilling moonlight, but a comfort nonetheless.
āIā¦ hope thatās true, too,ā Gold agreed.
It occurred to Purple that they could tell the rest of the story right then and there. The details theyād been missing from the Booth Thirty Incident had been covered by Goldās retelling of the event, and everything else theyād been present for. But the look on the Old Manās face when he left to finally speak with Gold, that utterance of āThis is a family matterā, muted their voice. It wouldnāt be right for Purple to tell Gold what theyād done. That was- that was Kingās job. From family to family, no room for anyone else.
...Purple was a really bad person.
āWell, personally, I donāt,ā Yellow declared, āI can barely handle one Green. The army that would arise from his many, many foolish Minecraft deaths? No thank you.ā
Green scoffed at Yellowās complaints, āYouāre just jealous. You couldnāt possibly compete with an army that awesome.ā
āH-heyā¦ā Secondās mumbling broke through their ribbing, āCan we maybe change the subject? Iām not really up for talking about this right nowā¦ā
A round of worried looks passed around the room. While Purple lacked context for many of the groupās misadventures, they knew Second well enough to know that the fact that they were asking so pleasantly was more of a red flag than anything else they couldāve done. The group instead decided to tell Gold a story from their shared history. It seemed subconsciously unanimous that they not share the memory of their first meeting, what with Purple leaving Blue and Green to drop down a pit and then getting their first home in years burnt down. That could come later, when there was a little less tension to go around.
So instead they told some tales from League of Legends, a place renowned for its lack of sportsmanship but where, ironically, Purple and their friends had some of their most pleasant memories. Purple themselves took the limelight, being the experienced storyteller that they were, and weaved a tale of swords and sorcery to enrapture the bright golden stick. Green hopped up and joined as co-host, abandoning his second slice of pepperoni at his spot, while the others chimed in at timely moments. Red interrupted with humorously over-embellished assertions. Yellow added a dash of sarcasm to every mistake any of them made. Blue would defuse the little tension that popped up with expert ease. Even Second, as exhausted as they were, acted as the straight man for their comedic shenanigans. Between the six of them, it was all too easy to make Gold bust a gut.
This was the state the two Old Men found them in, when they finally escaped their imprisonment. The one who Gold told them would keep the name Mango was first, crossing the room in long, quick strides before anyone could even register that he was there. The second he was able to he took Gold in his arms, peppering his face and curls with sweet, soft little kisses. Gold giggled and laughed and proclaimed his embarrassment, but Mango didnāt relent, only holding on all the tighter.
ā¦Purple was a really, really bad person.
The Old Man who would be King emerged afterwards, staring at the embrace between father and child with a wistful wanting that made Purpleās stomach turn. It was so obvious how much he yearned to be his other self, to be able to hold his real kid tight and never let them go. Then, in the blink of an eye, the mask of a calm, collected king slid onto his face. He adjusted his crown, pushed back his bangs, and began marching straight towards Purple.
āāBout time you broke out,ā Purple said in lieu of a proper greeting.
The backhanded remark was barely acknowledged. Instead Old Man King tenderly took Purpleās face into his grip and inspected the still sore side where the punch had landed. A strange tingling sensation drew Purpleās gaze over the old manās shoulder to the other old man, glaring daggers at them from over Goldās fuzzy curls, and they couldnāt help the flinch in response.
Whether or not King could feel it too was unclear, but he shifted positions to block Mangoās view of Purple, and they allowed themselves to relax a little.
āItās not as bad as Iād feared,ā King spoke in clear relief, though his small smile was dampened by clear hints of guilt, āHow do you feel?ā
Eager to clear that remaining fog of regret from the Old Man, Purple scoffed and tossed their hair back, preening dramatically, āAlas, despite Mangoās best efforts, the curse remains in full effect. Iām still tragically beautiful.ā
King snorted, āAt least your egoās still in tact,ā He then glanced down at the plate of pineapple and ham pizza sat nearby. It was Purpleās third slice, which they had no shame about. It wasnāt like theyād have to share with anyone but Gold (and maybe Blue, though she seemed content with her veggie pizza), āAh, you ordered out?ā
āYup!ā Purple chirped, breaking away easily from the Old Manās fragile hold to take their food, āWe tried to salvage the lasagna, butā¦ā
āIt killed a bush,ā Blue blurted out, a haunted look in her eye as she recalled just how close sheād come to swallowing the rancid thing.
Both Mango and King wore comically identical expressions of shock at the news. King, more used to their mayhem than his younger self, broke free of his stupor first. He sighed and buried his face in his palm, āOf course. Of course it did. If the neighbors ever sue me because of you brats, Iām dragging you all down with me.ā
āWouldnāt be the first time!ā Red chirped, like he was referring to casual criminal mischief and not that time King nearly killed them all. Purple couldnāt help laughing along with the others as they all cracked up. Nearly dying hadnāt been funny at the time, obviously, but among the many lessons these chaotic gremlins had taught Purple was that it was important to be able to look back at your pain and find the joy in it. It hurt, but it also gave Purple everything they had today, so it was hard to see it as all bad.
Someday, they mused, looking up at Kingās grimacing face, theyād manage to convince the Old Man of the same.
For Gold, however, all the vague reference and laughter caused was confusion. āWhat do you mean?ā
It had been so easy to forget, in the wake of all the revelry, that Gold still wasnāt aware of everything that had gone down. Purple could see the Old Man tense and pale as he realized what was coming, and without thinking Purple immediately took his hand, folded behind his back where nobody could see. They squeezed it tight, pouring all their care into their grip, letting the Old Man know, in their own way, that they were here, right here, and that it would all be okay. He wasnāt alone anymore. Their reward was seeing King slowly relax, his shoulders slouching and his breathing smoothing into an even, pleasant rhythm.
After a moment of drinking in each otherās comforting presence, King released Purpleās hand and exhaled, āIāve brought this up toā¦ your father before,ā There was a strange intonation to those words, your father, and the implications made Purple frown, but they didnāt interrupt, āBut there was more to the story I was telling you earlier. Things that happened after you died. Youā¦ deserve to know.ā
Mango looked to the side. It wasnāt clear how much King had revealed to him, but it was enough for him to avoid his childās confused eyes searching him for answers.
āOh boy,ā Yellow sighed, pushing back into the armchair and making herself comfortable, āGreen, pass me another drink. This is gonna be a long one.ā Green did so, and everyone made themselves comfortable on the couch. With tender care Second was shifted over to make enough of a spot for Purple to take a seat on the couch, which they did with a grateful smile. King grabbed the desk chair and took over Purpleās spot at the center of attention. Unlike Purpleās showmanship and jolly energy, however, he held himself solemnly, like a man trudging along to the guillotine.
It took them a moment to settle down enough for Kingās satisfaction, and once they did he sighed and began, āWhen youā¦ died,ā The light in Kingās eyes completely left him, āI lost everything I had. My hopes, my dreams, my faith in this worldā¦ it was all gone. How could I hold on to any of that when my baby was deadā¦?ā Unrestrained tears fell from the Old Manās eyes, and Purpleās fingers itched with the desire to reach out, to take his hand yet again. But the eyes around them, the burning anger in Mangoās face, the repetition in their head of āthis is a family matterā kept them frozen in place.
Gold, however, had no such restraints, and even Mangoās hold couldnāt stop the bright stick from slipping out of his grasp and over to King. His arms wrapped around the Old Manās neck, grounding him with the pleasant weight of warm sunshine. Purpleās fingers dug into he fabric of their pants, wondering why couldnāt they just be happy to see that? Why did it hurt so bad? Why couldnāt they just be a good person?
āIām so sorry, Dadā¦ā Gold cooed, and Kingās breath hitched, āI didnāt mean to hurt you like this.ā
āOh, honey,ā Even through the tears, King managed to smile for Gold, āYou never hurt me. Losing you was painful, but that was not your fault,ā Purple turned to glance at Mango, and found him frowning in open displeasure at the sight before him. Well, at least Purple wasnāt the only bad person. King allowed Gold to hold him for a moment longer before gently, reluctantly, pushing him back, ābutā¦ please go sit down. I need to finish telling the story.ā
With a great amount of effort, Gold broke away, sitting down next to where Mango was standing. The second he was within armās reach, Mango had him back in his embrace, holding him tight so he wouldnāt disappear again. His worried eyes stayed glued to King the entire time.
āNothing mattered anymore. All I could think about was that moment, that terrible moment where Iād lost everythingā¦ I saw it every time I closed my eyes, every time there was a red light or a blaring alarm, every time I saw that cursed game symbol. It was all could think about. Every day and every night forā¦ who knows how long. I was hurting, and I wanted to hurt the monster that took you from me.ā
Silence fell over the room. While the friend group had known, in a general sense, that King had undergone some sort of trauma and went mad, this was the first time theyād truly realized why King had done what he did. Goldās eyes widened, and Mangoās narrowed.
āBut Iād already beaten the gameās technicians to a pulp,ā That had Gold openly gaping, and Purple winced as a phantom pain echoed across their cheek. If King had gone that hard against the techs whoād been trying to run the game, theyād certainly felt it for days, āAnd the company had me sign a waiver. Itād been foolish of me not to read it, I know, but I couldnāt undo it. There was no legal recourse for me. I couldāve gone vigilante with it, but I didnāt have the resources or know-how to do such a thing without getting caught. And besidesā¦ā Kingās eyes darkened, āMy attention had focusedā¦ somewhere else.ā
āOn the game itselfā¦ā Green realized aloud. Red and Blue exchanged a look over Secondās head.
Gold still looked confused, but now there was a hint to alarm in his eyes, as though he was beginning to suspect what was going on, āIā¦ donāt understandā¦ā
āFrom my perspective,ā King began to explain, āit had been Minecraft that had ripped you from me. The game was an unstable, volatile mess that promised you happiness and fun and instead robbed you of everything. I know now I wasnāt being rational, but at the time, it felt like the monster that had taken you from me was Minecraft itself. And I swore to myself that I was going to destroy it,ā A mad gleam fell across Kingās eyes, āNo matter what it took.ā
Mangoās posture had stiffened, looking over at his other self in something like astonishment, ā...huh,ā He muttered, āYou werenāt kiddingā¦ā
āBut- but-ā Gold sputtered, confused and grieved and horrified by what he was hearing, āBut itās a game! An entire world filled with monsters, and npcs, and other players, and- and- innocent people!ā Goldās hand flew to his head, holding it high while Mango immediately reached to comfort him. How much comfort he could offer when he was the mirror image of the one who was upsetting Gold, however, was up for debate, āIt wasnāt the gameās fault the fair booth was glitched up! You canāt punish innocents for something that wasnāt their fault!ā
King sat silently, unable to meet Goldās haunted eyes.
The utter anguish on Goldās face struck Purple to their core. They still remembered the pain of being walked out on, and left behind, and having a back turned to their pleading hand. Being betrayed was rough. Being betrayed by a parentā¦ well, nothing cut quite so deeply. Eager to push that pain out of Goldās fragile heart, Purple intervened, drawing the spotlight to themselves, āBut we beat him~!ā They spoiled, hoping that knowing King lost would mitigate at least a bit of the heartache, āAnd we undid all the damage King and I did! No sticks were harmed in the making of this final showdown!ā
āUh, yes, sticks were harmed in the making of this showdown,ā Yellow interrupted incredulously, āMANY sticks were harmed in the making of this showdown, actually.ā
āQuiet, peg-leg,ā Purple hissed back.
āBack up for a moment,ā Mango suddenly interrupted, standing rigidly straight, āYou said āall the damage King and I didā.ā Purple winced. Yeah, they had let that slip, hadnāt they? āWhat do you mean by that?ā
This was where King regained control of the narrative, taking back the spotlight from Purple to spare them the interrogation. āIn order to destroy Minecraft, I needed an immense amount of power. Something strong enough to destroy the game down to its very base coding. Something from the game itselfā¦ to that end, I created a staff capable of harnessing the full power of any game item that I could acquire. I spent my life savings on illegal game smuggling, trying to get an item capable of what Iād envisioned, but nothing I acquired was strong enough. They could break things, sure, but they werenāt able to break down the game in the way I really needed. Then, during my research, I uncovered the secret of the Icon; an in-game item that enabled complete and total creative freedom over the world. You were invincible, able to place any item at whim, and had total control over the game. The only problem was nobody knew where to find it.
āI didnāt give up, though. Finding this thing, and using it to destroy the game that took my baby from me was all I could think about. I didnāt sleep, I barely ate. I wandered the city aimlessly, asking anyone whoād give me a second of time, āHave you seen this icon? Do you have any information? Please, anything, Iād give anythingā¦ā Kingās voice cracked, which signaled him to take a moment, take a breath, before continuing, āThen, I finally found it. Through a YouTube video, of all things.ā
A chorus of groans came from the couch and the armchair. Second buried their face in their hands. Green sighed and muttered, āThatās how you found us? Cursors damn it, Alanā¦ā
āWeāre gonna need to have another long talk about this,ā Blue moaned, āUgh, as if the last one hadnāt been bad enough.ā
āAlanās the human you all live with, right?ā Purple asked, receiving some half-hearted confirmations in response.
Gold seemed confused by the mere concept, āYou all live with a human?ā He arched his eyebrow at them. Though his haggard eyes indicated Kingās actions were still haunting him, Gold was able to put that aside for the moment to indulge a subject many city sticks knew little about: humanity, āI thought all humans were violent, stick-killing psychopaths.ā
That wasnāt so uncommon a belief in a city run by Rocket Corp: everyone knew the tragic tale of its recently deceased leader, how theyād been created for the sole purpose of suffering and dying, how theyād manage to drag themselves from the Recycling Bin and rose to power, creating a safe haven where humans couldnāt touch them. Many older sticks had some human related trauma, from negligence to downright abuse, and though the younger generations were spared the direct trauma of human interaction, the horror stories remained.
āThatās notā¦ always trueā¦ā Second protested, but it sounded weak and shaky for reasons beyond Secondās physical state.
The tension returned with a vengeance.
ā...actually, that kinda proves Kingās even dumber than we thought,ā Red suddenly piped up, mockingly oblivious to the bristling of the Old Man. He picked the perfect insult; most things unrelated to Gold (or, occasionally, Purple themselves) rolled off Kingās back, but one of the few insults he couldnāt stand was one to his intellect. It was, to put it in Kingās own words, one of the few things he hadnāt lost that day, āI mean, you saw Alanās videos of our adventures and you still thought it was a good idea to threaten and steal from us? Talk about moronic.ā
Seething, King spoke through grinding teeth as he responded, āWell, I hadnāt exactly planned on fighting you kidsā¦ā
āYou shouldnāt be fighting anyone,ā Gold scolded, and though his glare bore into King, Purple didnāt miss his side-eye at Mango as well, āOr stealing anything.ā
Thoroughly scolded, King winced and looked away, āRight, sorry. But, to continue, I used what I learned to seek out the sticks who had the Icon. Thatās what lead me to Purple. Or, rather, them to me. Iā¦ wasnāt exactly honest with them.ā
Purple snorted. āThatās putting it lightly. The guy framed the entire thing as a game. More extreme than I was used to, sure, but the end goal was to get complete and total control of Minecraft. With the staff and the full power of the Icon, we could rule together with an iron fist!ā Purple pumped their first up, as though in example, ā...Of course, I didnāt know what the staff was really capable of, or what the Old Man intended to do with it. If I had, I donāt think Iād have gone along with it.ā
Or at least Purple would like to think they wouldnāt have. They didnāt want to ponder too hard on it ā given Purpleās thirst for power and how nice the Old Man had been when Purple was obedient, Purple wasnāt sure theyād like the answer theyād come to.
āSo, the Old Man and I conquered a fortress in the gameā¦ even without the Icon, the staff was ridiculously powerful, it was so easy. Then we set about following his plan. Iād go find the others and lure them into a trap, then Iād get the Icon for King and weād conquer the world,ā Purple looked over at their friends, and felt a familiar kick in their gut, āAgain, I am so sorry about that. I had my reasons, butā¦ā
āWe know,ā Green consoled, patting Purple on the shoulder, āWeāve already forgiven you.ā
āYou know what they say about trusting people,ā Blue chimed in, grinning cheekily, āThird timeās the charm!ā
āDonāt think thatās about trustā¦ā Second rebuffed jokingly from the comfortable cushion of Blueās shoulder.
Warmth flooded into Purpleās cheeks. They couldnāt say what miracle allowed their friends to forgive them after all the garbage theyād pulled, but Purple would never take it for granted. Er, this time.
Red had taken over story-time in the meanwhile, āSo, we ran into Purple after an already pretty long day,ā Purple could hear Blue mumbling under her breath. They couldnāt quite make out what she was saying, but it made Second chuckle, āAnd they lured us into this parkour course. It was pretty fun at first! But, then I won, and I realized the others werenāt coming, and the guards wouldnāt let me leaveā¦ā
āWe were trapped,ā Green summarized, āStuck there so King wouldnāt have worry about us while he stole our Iconā¦ hey,ā Greenās brow furrowed, āWere you just going to keep us there? While you blew up Minecraft? Did you at least have some way to get Purple out?ā
This question made Purple look away from the Old Manās face for the first time throughout the entire story. It was done and over with. They didnāt need to know. They didnāt want to know. Kingās mistakes, however painful, were done and over with. They were happy now. Questions like these shouldnāt be haunting Purple. They shouldnāt.
āThere were plans in place for that, to get you all back to your PC before everything went down. I may have been cruel, but I hadnāt planned to sacrifice anyone else to Minecraft,ā King answered, and Purple let out a breath they didnāt realize theyād been holding, āThings gotā¦ out of hand after you all broke out, though.ā
āSeems they were out of hand for a long time before that,ā Green quipped dryly.
Gold nodded along, staring blankly ahead of him, āYeah, no kiddingā¦ā
The dismissive scoffing from Gold seemed to stun both King and Mango, but nonetheless King continued on, āWhen the kids realized what I was planning, they tried to stop me. We fought. Iā¦ didnāt hold back. Purple had succeeded in getting me the Icon, and after that I stopped caring about anything but reaching my goal. Andā¦ I succeeded.ā
āWait, what?!ā Gold jumped up, alarmed, āNo, butā¦ no! Everyone hereās fine, that means you- did you actually destroy a wholeā¦?ā
Taking in shallow, rapid breaths, Gold backed away from King and held his head in his hands. Mangoās hands rubbing his back and voice speaking soothing comforts did little to ease his panic. Purple glanced back at King and felt their heart ache in what was surely only an echo of the pain the Old Man felt. Though he clearly longed to reach out, to close the gap and squeeze all the pain out of his child, something held him firmly in place. His hand, though outstretched, couldnāt seem to bridge the gap between them.
Well, if King couldnāt bring himself to comfort his child, then Purple would have to take up his job for him. They reached across the chasm between themselves and Gold and gently prodded his shoulder, forcing him to look up at Purple, āHey,ā They put on their biggest, most confident smile for Gold, āRemember what I said earlier? I turned on King, and the good guys won. Minecraftās still in one piece. King screwed up, but nobody died, I promise.ā
Too distressed to respond verbally, Gold just swallowed and nodded. His father drew Gold closer and hugged him tight, and though Goldās hands gripped at Mangoās arms, he didnāt look any more at ease.
Kingās longing eyes clung fast to Goldās anxious form, but after a moment he continued, āWith the Iconās power, the staff was able to create a beam of destructive force that would erase the entire world of Minecraft line by line. And if anyone dared to try to stop me, all I had to do was point the beam at them and wait for them to be erased or give up,ā Goldās hands flew up to cover his mouth in shock, āBut Purpleā¦ didnāt give up. Even when the beam was pointed right at them and their body was disintegratingā¦ā The Old Manās voice shook as he remember. Purple winced, rubbing at their arm to soothe an ache that wasnāt there, āThey kept pushing forward, andā¦ and by the time Iād realized what I was doing to themā¦ they were almostā¦ā The Old Manās eyes, pained and sorrowful, redirected towards Purple. The sheer intensity of emotions forced them to look away. It was so hard to breath when he looked at them like that, so full of regret and guilt and something else, something warm that made Purple feel very, very small, āIā¦ will never be able to apologize enough for that.ā
For once, the natural snark Purple tended to depend on caught in their throat. All they could bring themselves to do was nod. Eyes bored into them from every side, but Purple kept their gaze glued to the ground and ignored them all.
ā...So you almost killed Purple?ā Gold spat. Purple pried their gaze from the flooring to where the other kid was staring, āIt wasnāt enough for you to try and wipe out an entire world, you had to hurt the only person who was trying to help you, too?!ā
King didnāt have a response. He didnāt even try to defend himself, merely hanging his head in shame.
Mango, on the other hand, didnāt hesitate to reassure his child, āDonāt worry, Honey,ā He tried to console, unaware that his soothing words made Gold grit his teeth all the harder, āThis isnāt going to be our future. Iāll make sure of it-ā
āRight, because youāre not going to do anything like that!ā Gold snapped, pulling away from Mangoās attempts at comfort, āItās not like you just started throwing punches at literally everyone the second you heard something you didnāt like!ā
The poor Old Man couldnāt have looked any more hurt if Gold had punched him.
Scrambling to do damage control, Purple hopped up fully out of their comfortable seat on the couch to stand in front of Gold, arms held up placatingly. āHey! Hey! Itās okay, itās all gonna be-ā
āItās not okay!ā Gold screamed at Purple, his tear-stricken face a near-perfect mirror of Mangoās. Unlike Mango, however, Gold immediately retreated when he saw Purple flinch away, āSorry, ām sorry, I didnāt mean that, I justā¦. I donāt understand,ā His head fell into his hands again, tears flowing free and unashamed down his face as he repeated, āI donāt understandā¦ he hurt you. He almost killed you,ā Purple idly rubbed at their arm, unsure of what to say, āHow can you forgive that?ā Gold looked past Purple, to the many sticks sitting at attention on the couch, āHow can any of you forgive that?ā
For a long, long moment, nobody spoke. The silence rang heavy in the air, a blaring siren of tension and pain. Then, with a rigid inhale, Second handed their single slice of barely touched pepperoni to Blue, who gave it a long glance before setting it aside, and sat up straight with visibly pained effort. Their voice was soft as they answered, āI canāt speak for the others, but now that I know, I can kind of understand why Mango- King did what he did.
āWhen you lose someoneā¦ or even think youāre going to lose someoneā¦ itās like thereās a vice grip on your heart. You feel so many things, all at once, and they all make you feel small, and vulnerable, and helpless,ā Second took a brief break to cough before diving right back into it, ābut, one of those things you feel is anger, and anger is different. Itā¦ tricks you, because even though it's just as bad as the other stuff, it feels constructive. Like, even though everythingās breaking down around you, thereās something you can do. Some power you can take back. And by the time you realize it was lying to youā¦ā Secondās eyes fell, clouded by dark thoughts, āYouāve already hurt the people you wanted to protect.ā
Without exchanging words, Red reached over and took Secondās hand into his own, squeezing it tightly. Greenās arm wrapped around Second to pull them in close, allowing their head to rest against his pulse. Surrounded by the comfort of their friends, their tense body relaxed completely.
Gold frowned at the group, āBut that doesnāt make it okay.ā
āNo,ā King agreed, quietly surprising Purple. With how heavily his sins were weighing down on him, Purple hadnāt expected the Old Man to speak up again, āIt doesnāt.ā
Silence lingered in the air as Gold struggled to find a proper response. And evidently failed, as after a moment he looked to the others and asked, āHow did you beat him?ā
āIt was all Sec, baby!ā Green cheered, proudly displaying his orange friend.
Second rolled their eyes at him, āIt was a team effort, actually. I realized we could reset the game if we got the Icon back to our PC, so we ran back as fast as we could and just BARELY made it!ā After that proclamation, Second sunk further into Green, somehow looking even more tired, āFor real, though, I wouldnāt have gotten close without you guys.ā
āWhat would you do without us?ā Yellow teased, a smug grin settling on her face. The friends shared a round of chuckles amongst themselves. Gold didnāt partake, only staring blankly at the wall behind the group. He only broke out of this trance when Yellowās gentle touch on his arm caused him to jump, āHey, I get it. You only just learned that you were going to die in less than two years,ā Yellow spoke those words so casually, but the ripples of pain they caused through the room were all too palpable, āand then we dumped all this on you. Itād be a lot for anyone. You should take a break and get some rest. Looks like itās getting pretty late, anyways.ā
Purple glanced past their friends towards the window and, sure enough, the sun had set along the horizon, leaving the outside world blanketed in a canvas of shadows. Even if Second and Yellow werenāt injured, theyād likely be staying the night anyways. It was simply too dangerous to traverse through the Minecraft world at this time of night.
āOkayā¦ā Gold acknowledged, hugging himself. Mango once again attempted to reach out to him and was once again rebuffed, āIāmā¦ Iām going to go get cleaned up.ā
And without another word, Gold disappeared around the corner of the bedroom hallway.
From there, everything began to unwind. There was an initial awkwardness that had been broken by Second yawning, which prompted everyone to clean down and get ready for the night. Green and Red went to the closet where King had stored extra bed supplies, Red grumbling all the while about how they couldnāt even compete for the spot on the couch. Green teased back easily, carrying probably too much for a guy with a suspected concussion. After dinner clean-up had fallen to Blue, who asked Second numerous times if they were done before carefully wrapping up the single pizza slice theyād been nibbling on for later. She carried stuff to the basement while Yellow, still stuck in her armchair, made herself useful by holding a trash bag, albeit begrudgingly. Mango had, of course, immediately jumped up to trail after his child, and disappeared into the hallway after him.
In the midst of all the chaos, King sat rigidly still, glossed over eyes staring dead ahead at nothing in particular. He didnāt so much as twitch as the flurry of activity picked up around him.
Taking a calming breath, Purple approached, resting a hand on his shoulder. The Old Man remained stationary, āHey,ā They broke the silence hesitantly, āYou doing okay?ā
For a moment, it was like King hadnāt even heard Purple. They were about to repeat themselves when he finally responded, āI did the right thing, didnāt I?ā He asked.
āYup.ā Immediately responded Purple.
That, at last, broke the mask King wore, making a small smile appear, āNo hesitation, huh?ā
āLook,ā Purple leaned their full weight on the Old Man, āI may not be an expert on āhealthy family dynamicsā,ā They punctuated their words with air quotes, ābut Iāve seen a lot of sitcoms in my time, and every time someone hides a big secret, it always comes out in the worst way possible. If you hadnāt told him yourself now, then heād find out from someone else later, and that would have been far worse.ā
Just the thought of that put a visible wince on Kingās face, the poor Old Man nodding, āThatās true. I just wish I didnāt have to make him hate me.ā
āHe doesnāt hate you,ā They reassured, carefully watching Kingās face to make sure he wasnāt getting too upset, āHeās scared, and hurt, and really overwhelmed. Give him some time. Iām sure heāll come around.ā
Well, Purple couldnāt really say that for sure. They werenāt in Goldās head, after all. But speaking from their own personal experience, hating a parent was hard. So much harder than it had any right to be. Even now, in the midst of the happiest time of their life, Purple couldnāt stop their mind from wandering to dangerous what ifs, could have beens, and impossible futures where they had three loving, happy, healthy adults in their life.
Fragile hope sparked in the Old Manās eyes, āYou think so?ā
āI know so,ā Purple, master of āfake it ātil you make itā, proclaimed.
Their reward was a pair of arms wrapping tightly around them, so quickly Purple couldnāt help the instinctual flinch in reaction, but once they recovered they immediately moved to return the embrace. Hugs werenāt uncommon between the two, per say, but there was something bittersweet about this one. After all, King had his own child back. Thisā¦ may be the last hug Purple would get for a while. So they held fast for far longer than King was normally comfortable with, soaking in the warmth of his arms around them.
Purple would be okay with this. For Kingās sake, theyād be a good person, just this once.
āAhem,ā A voice broke shattered the moment, ending the embrace and leaving Purple to retreat into their own cold loneliness. Mango stood there beside them, arms crossed, looking around at everything but Purple, āSorry to interrupt,ā He actually looked anything but sorry, but Purple wasnāt about to call him out and get punched again, ābut I looked around, and I couldnāt help but notice that I no longer have a bedroom.ā
Rightā¦ Purple had also taken over the Old Manās room. King had presented it to Purple as a spare room, and he rarely slept through the whole night anyways, so it had taken Purple a while to piece together that the room next door had been Goldās, not the Old Manās. A part of them felt guilty for not even offering the room back to King, but they selfishly felt kind of glad that he was willing to make such a big sacrifice for Purple. Even so, it was clear in hindsight that Purple should have insisted they make themselves a room in the basement. And now they looked like a selfish prick in front of Kingās kid and past self.
āThatās right,ā King acknowledged, surprising Purple by taking one of their hands into his own, āPurple needed a space of their own, and I donāt sleep much anymore, anyways. Normally when I need to sleep Iāll catch a nap on the couch, butā¦ā He glanced over to said couch, where Green was fluffing a pillow for Second, āI suppose thatās not an option tonight.ā
Purpleās posture straightened immediately. They could sleep in the living room with the others ā all five were used to bed sharing, it wouldnāt be too weird. That way Mango could get his old room back. It was only fair, since it was his room to begin with. And maybe they could start mending bridges with the younger Old Man, or at least get him to look them in the eye without glaring. They opened their mouth to make the offer-
āYou can sleep on the floor in my room.ā
-And Gold beat them to it. Heād appeared from behind the corner of the bedroom hallway, looking just as drained as he had when heād disappeared.
Both King and Mango appeared startled by the invitation. āBoth of us?ā King asked incredulously, and his brow only furrowed further when Gold nodded, āAre you sure?ā
āIf I didnāt offer, youād both just be up all night worrying about me anyways,ā Gold huffed. It was clear from his guarded body language and low voice that nothing was forgiven quite yet ā but for him to make this offer, Purple must have been right on the money with their earlier reassurances, āSo, yeah. You can both sleep in my room with me if you promise not to fight.ā
The two versions of Goldās dad eagerly agreed, and Purple fell back, swallowing the unmade offer, where it lodged in their throat and weighed unbidden on their lungs. Theyāre fine, they told themselves, watching Gold walk away to grab what little linen remained in the closet after the friend group had taken what theyād needed. They were fine with this. The Old Man could be really, truly happy.
And if Purple felt anything other than pure joy at the thought? Well, that was just them being selfish again. Theyād get over it.
---------------------
Mango had always been a light sleeper.
Even before Gold had come along, sleeping just wasnāt something that came naturally to Mango. Heād stay up late, awaken multiple times throughout the night, and be up and out of bed at what his old roommates called āthe unholy hours of the morningā. Having a fussy baby around had only solidified this for him. As a small child Gold would often be up and out of bed for a late night glass of water or trip to the restroom, or to climb into Mangoās bed after a bad dream. He was used to his daily alarm being the sound of the hardwood floor creaking and groaning as Gold tried and failed to sneak into his room.
So when Mangoās fretful slumber was interrupted by the all too familiar rasping of old flooring, he was up before his brain could even catch up with his current situation. āGoldā¦?ā He mumbled, pushing up from the surprisingly hard mattress he was sleeping on.
His full memory only came back to him when another hand, the same colour as his own, rested on his shoulder, reminding him that heād been sleeping on the ground next to his own lookalike. āNo, Goldās still in bed,ā King confirmed, tossing his head in the direction of the bed, where Gold slept with his back to the two, āThatās probably Purple. āM gonna go check on themā¦ be right back.ā
Without waiting for a response, King picked himself up and hobbled silently out of the room. Mango took a long, slow breath in, steadying his mind to recall everything that had happened. Right, he was in the future. King, who claimed to be him, was a failed terrorist, his kid wasā¦ deadā¦ and then there was Purple.
Thinking of Purple made Mango scowl and roll back over. It wasnāt the kidās fault his evil doppelganger had used them as a replacement for his dead baby, but it was hard to separate that reality from the sour taste Kingās blatant affection left in his mouth. The tyrant didnāt hesitate to shower Purple with praise, or shield Purple from Mango with dagger-like glares. And because ofā¦ what? Gratitude to the kid for stopping him from destroying an entire world? Guilt for almost killing them? Why had Purple even come to King in the first place?
You know, thereās an easy way to find outā¦
Mango turned under his blankets to look away from the door. No. No, he wasnāt going out there. He couldnāt leave Gold alone after everything, and Purple wasnāt his problem. It was just a passing curiosity. Nothing more.
And whereās their real parents? Their real home? Who ARE they, anyways?
It didnāt matter. It didnāt matter.
Why were they so content to play therapist to a stick who almost killed them?
Itā¦ didnāt matterā¦
The way they cowered when you hit themā¦ were theyā¦?
Mango forced himself up. It wasnāt like he was going back to sleep, anyways.
Instead, he slipped out of Goldās room, trailing far enough behind King that he wouldnāt take note of Mangoās presence. They both knew which of the floorboards would creak if they were stepped on, and which ones could be traversed safely, so following after King was a simple affair, even in the dead of night. They both cautiously stepped over the gaggle of sticks sleeping like babies in the living room, carefully maneuvered through the completely destroyed kitchen, and Mango watched King slip out the back door before creeping next to it. The wood of the door, while splintered, was one of the more undamaged parts of the room. While the air carried a mildly humid heat, the door was pleasantly cold against Mangoās face as he pressed his ear against it to listen in to the two on the other side.
āHey,ā King began with a greeting, and Mango could hear someone scrambling on the other side of the door.
āAck! H-hey, donāt scare me like that,ā Purpleās scolding voice responded.
Laughter followed, deep but playful, āSorry, sorry.ā
āWhat are you even doing out here? Shouldnāt you be asleep?ā Huffed the younger stick.
This was followed by an exaggerated groan of complaint as King audibly ruffled Purpleās hair, āI barely sleep on the best of days, and todayās beenā¦ a lot.ā Purple mumbled something that sounded like agreement, āSo I was already awake when I heard you leave your room. So, you want to tell me whatās up?ā
A long, silent moment, filled with only the distant sound of crickets in the night, passed before Purple eventually responded, āI- Itās nothing, really. Sorry to drag you out here-ā
āDonāt give me that,ā Chided King, āCāmon, tell me whatās going on. The King demands it.ā
Purple snorted in laughter, though it wasnāt a particularly jolly sound. Rather, it soundedā¦ tired, āItās not important,ā They tried to downplay, āJustā¦ a bad dream. Iāll be fine.ā
āAh,ā Another moment of silence passed, followed by a simple question, āPink or Blue?ā
āWhy do you think it always comes back toā¦?ā There was another pause, in which Mango could imagine King giving Purple the same look Mango would give Gold when his child would come home with unauthorized candy. Purple sighed, āPink.ā
āThat makes sense, given that weāve seen the dead come back to life today,ā King shuffled over on the stoop; closer to Purple, maybe, āDo youā¦ want to talk about it?ā
āNot really much to talk about,ā Purple proclaimed, before elaborating anyways, āMama and Pops and I were up at the beach, north of the city. Do you know it? Itās at the lake with the little island in the middle.ā
āNever been, but Iāve heard good things,ā Confirmed King, āIs it nice?ā
āItās beautiful,ā Purple sighed, their voice tinged with melancholy and nostalgia, āWeād go every year, and we were always there until super late at night. Pops would carry me on their shoulders into the deep water, and Mama would take me to see where all the pretty fish gatheredā¦ then, when it got late, weād have ice cream and watch the sun set together. No matter what else was going on, we were always happy there.ā
Were. Mangoās mind clung to that word, brow furrowing. He knew now that Purple had parents at some point, but the family they came from seemed to be in just as much ruin as Kingās own. That answered some questions, and raised so many more.
āWeāll have to go up there sometime,ā King responded, speaking to Purple like one might speak to a skittish kitten.
āYeahā¦ā Despite the affirmation, Purple didnāt sound particularly enthused at the idea, ābut, normally when I dream of the beach, itās a happy dream. So I was surprised when a storm rolled in and my Popsā¦ disappeared. Then I heard screaming, and I saw my Mama out in the water, where it was really deep. There was something clinging to her. Some kind ofā¦ monster. I couldnāt make it out really well, but it had really big, really sharp teeth.
āIt dragged Mama down into the water. She kicked and screamed, and started coughing really bad, but she couldnāt get away from it. At first I just sat there and watched like a total idiot,ā Mango couldnāt help wincing at the raw bitterness in Purpleās voice, all directed inward, ābut as soon as I was able to move I dove down after her. I swam as fast as I could, but it was like there was some sort of upward current. I couldnāt break free of it, no matter how hard I kicked, and she just got dragged down further, and further, and thenā¦ then I couldnāt see her anymore,ā Purpleās voice shook a little, āIā¦ once I lost sight of her, I froze. All I could think was that I wasnāt strong enough to save her, wasnāt good enough to save her, and it hurt so bad. I didnāt even realize I was drowning too until I woke up gasping.ā
King and Mango both took a tense moment to absorb Purpleās story. The guilt Mango had been suppressing redoubled in his chest, creating an uncomfortable bubble of pressure within him. Despite the way their voice shook and warbled as they recounted their dream, Purple wasnāt crying. Was it because they didnāt want to burden anyone with their grief? Were they too used to the pain to cry? Mango couldnāt say for sure, but the idea of a child pushing their pain down so deeply, when they were being used as a narcotic to drug away someone elseāsā¦
āIāmā¦ so sorry,ā King cooed softly, his voice a careful orchestra of concern and restraint. āYou knowā¦ once Second recovers, we can ask them to do what they did for Gold for your mom. Iām sure they wouldnāt mind.ā
ā...No.ā Purpleās answer was sad, but resolute, āNo, that wouldnāt be a good idea. What happened to Gold was a tragic accident. Mamaās death wasā¦ not. She died of a long, incurable, painful illness, and we donāt know if Secās healing powers work on diseases like that. If we brought her to the future, no matter how far back we went, Iād just have to watch her die again. Not only that, sheās so nice, all my friends would love her, and then theyād have to lose her too. It just wouldnāt be fair to anyone involved.ā
Mango felt a stupor fall over him as he mulled over Purpleās answer. When heād learned about Goldās death, he could only process two things: the fury he felt at the monster whoād allowed his baby to die, and the urge to protect Gold, no matter what it took. The effects on other people, on the world around himā¦ heād never even considered such things. How could he even think of anything but his child? The amount of thought Purple was able to put into the consequences of their actions wasā¦ utterly baffling.
āThatās an incredibly mature decision,ā Spoke the King, āand Iām so sorry you had to make it, sweetheart.ā
āEh, those were more like excuses not to ask, really.ā Purple sighed, far more world-weary than any kid their age should sound, āEven if the others didnāt kill me for asking after Sec almost died, it wouldnāt be right to make them risk their life again just for me,ā They paused, then added, āDoesnāt mean it doesnāt hurt, though.ā
āI know,ā Consoled the adult. Mango could hear him gently patting Purple on the back, presumably, and without thinking Mango clasped his own hands together. āIāve heard being in a more comfortable space can help with nightmares. You said you wanted a hammock bed, right? That shouldnāt be too hard to install.ā
There was a brief pause before Purple answered, āYouā¦ donāt mind me modifying your room like that?ā
āYour room,ā King corrected without hesitation. āItās your space now, Purple. Iād like some heads up if you want to, you know, knock down walls or anything, but you can change it up however you like. You deserve to feel at home here.ā
āHeh,ā A little more cheer was evident in Purpleās voice as they absorbed Kingās words. They seemed more confident, somehow, āYeah, thanks. Hey, maybe we can take that trip up to the beach. You know, if you donāt bring any drama.ā
Now that Purpleās mood was on the upswing, Kingās own voice took on a more jovial tone as well, āExcuse you. Iāll have you know that I had absolutely zero flair for the dramatic before you entered my life.ā
Mango couldnāt help but raise an eyebrow. Um, no. Even he had to call bull on that one.
āYouāre welcome~!ā Purple teased back, āBut, seriously, the beach is kind of my happy place. So we can only go together if you promise to keep it a happy place.ā
Context made King respond a bit more seriously, āI promise. Nothing but happy memories at the beach!ā Then he hummed in thought, āIt might be a while before we get to go, then. āDramaā has kind of taken over our lives right now.ā
āWhen hasnāt it?ā Purple joked back, āBut, until then, maybe we can go somewhere else? And we can even bring Gold and your evil twin.ā Mango scowled as King snorted. How did he, the one who wasnāt a terrorist, end up with the title of evil twin? āLike, we can check out the amusement park! Or I can show Gold my tree house-ā
āGonna have to veto that one, bud,ā Interrupted King, āI know it wasnāt the gameās fault, just some malfunctioning tech, but Iām not sure if Iām ever going to be comfortable with Gold going into Minecraft after what happenedā¦ Iām only barely able to handle you going in there alone.ā
Mango flinched away from the door for a moment. The game that killed his kidā¦ Purple played it? And King let them? What was wrong with this guy?
āYeah, thatās fair,ā Purple agreed casually, as if they werenāt talking about a stick-killing murder simulation, āthen I guess we can do something else. Maybe the park?ā
āYeah, the parkā¦ā King sighed dreamily. Which park they were referring to was easy to guess; it had been his and Goldās go-to place for after school playtime since the kid was a kid. His child was a hyperactive angel of destruction, and the park was a perfect place to let out all that excess energy in a healthy manner. Mango smiled at the memory of scrapes on his arms and legs from sword dueling with branches. He could practically feel Goldās weight in his hands as he helped the child across the monkey bars. If Mango had to pick a happy place of his own, that would probably be it. āThat sounds lovely. Gold could show you all his favourite spots, I could use myself as a punching bag to teach you both proper dueling,ā Mango rolled his eyes as Purple let out a snorting laugh, āWe could get corn dogs.ā
āI hate corn dogs.ā Purple answered. Heād suspected it after noting their taste in pizza, but this confirmed it for Mango: Purple was an absolute heathen.
King took this betrayal in stride, āThen the princess can get themselves a pretzel.ā Purple tried to complain, but King cut them off by ruffling their hair. He chuckled fondly at them, all sweet and loving andā¦ how could he not feel any guilt, showing them this kind of affection, when all heād done was use Purple to fill the hole in his life? āHow are you feeling now?ā
āMmā¦ā Purple took a moment to mull it over before answering, āTired, actually. I think Iām ready to head back in.ā
The two were already standing by the time Mango processed what that meant. He scrambled to separate himself, jumping away like it was on fire and hopping across the sprawled out bodies of Purpleās friends like they were hurdles on a track. The echoing creak of the door opening hit Mangoās ears just as he darted out of sight, throwing himself behind a wall to avoid being seen. Purple and King were murmuring softly between themselves as they slowly and carefully walked through the living room to avoid waking Purpleās friends.
That slowness would be Mangoās saving grace. He turned and began creeping through the hallway towards Goldās bedroom at the end. In his haste to escape, he forgot himself, and placed a foot down without thought.
Creeeaaaak
...Damn it. Mango winced. It was doubtful that Purple heard that, given how new they were to the house, but there was no way any version of himself would mistake the sound of the door outside his old room creaking. Not with how many times heād been woken up in the middle of the night by a restless little golden angel knocking at his door.
ā...Purple, hold up a second,ā Kingās voice quietly called out. Purpleās questioning noise turned to one of shock, āYouāve got something on your cheek. Here, let me-ā
āEw, Old Man, no-!ā
Oh. King was giving him a chance to get away without being busted by Purple. Mango didnāt take the time to question his motives; he quickly walked, paying more mind to avoid the squeaky boards on the floor, and cautiously, quietly, pulled the bedroom door open. It made a slight squeaking noise, but there wasnāt really any hiding that, so Mango hurried inside and shut the door as quietly as he could manage.
Gold, thankfully, was still in bed, turned away from where King and Mango had set up their blankets for the night. Even in his sleep todayās events were clearly weighing on him, and Mangoās heart ached at the sight.
At least the poor kid was able to get some rest.
--------------------
Gold hadnāt been able to get any rest that night.
How could he? The joy and excitement of preparing for the tournament this morning felt like a far off, distant dream. All he could think about was that shameful confession his father ā his Dad ā had poured out to him. All the people heād hurt, the world heād almost destroyed for Gold, over an incident that was almost completely separate from the game itself.
Both Dad Mango and Dad King had gotten up at some point, but Gold hadnāt even bothered to roll over and check on them. Were they fighting again? It shouldnāt have mattered, but another knife of betrayal stabbed into Gold anyways. Heād asked them to do one thing, one thing! And they couldnāt even manage that.
As he laid there, Goldās mind flickered through the dayās events like he was mindless clicking through programs on the television. Purple had tried to hide it, or downplay it, or whatever, but Gold knew that his dad had hurt everyone in the living room, including Purple themselves. Whenever he tried to close his eyelids, his imagination conjured movies of the others fighting for their lives, of Dad glaring them down with a maniacal grin on his face, of Purple pushing against the pain of whatever hell Dad had summoned, begging him to stop, glitches and errors threatening to pull them apart pixel by pixel just like they had King Dadās Goldā¦
Tears burned at his eyes, and Gold sniffed and hastily wiped them away. Heād always known his Dad had a temper, butā¦ but heād thought his Dad was a good personā¦
Eventually one of the Dads came back, a near inaudible creak in the otherwise dead silent night signaling his return. Gold didnāt bother to turn over to check which one, or if it was both of them. The idea of talking to his own Dad made him feel worn down ā the bad kind of worn down, where your entire body was sore and you could feel the strings of sanity snapping in your mind. Gold held as still as he could and hoped Dad wouldnāt approach to check on him.
Several moments passed, and Gold felt a sense of guilty relief when he heard the rustling sound of sheets as Dad got back under the covers.
He was followed soon enough by the door opening again, and other Dad entered. The door clicked shut behind him, only audible in the silence of night, and then the air was painfully still. The lack of noise caused Goldās heart to beat louder in his ears. Anticipation stole his breath.
āItās rude to eavesdrop, you know.ā
Gold gulped down his nerves. Shoot.
Thankfully, before he could make the mistake of speaking up, the other version of his Dad, the one whoād entered first, responded from where he laid on the floor, ā...Sorry.ā The voice was soft, and lacked the hostility he had in previous conversations with himself.
āIām not the one you need to apologize to,ā The Dad not laying down answered, āTomorrow youāll be telling Purple, and saying a proper āsorryā,ā His tone was firm, and Gold realized that the one standing by the door was, most likely, King.
āI will,ā Mango replied. He didnāt put up a fight at all, which somehow made Gold more nervous and suspicious than he wouldāve been if heād fought the demand. He paused for a brief second, then asked, ā...Purpleās mom is dead?ā
Goldās breath caught in his throat. Purple wasā¦ was that why Purple went along with everything Dad had wanted? Because they didnāt have anyone else?
King sighed out a long, tired sigh before responding, āYeah. Sheās been dead longer than Gold. Some glitch in her core codingā¦ I havenāt exactly pressed Purple for details, and they werenāt keen on giving them.ā
āAnd their other parent?ā Mango asked gingerly. Gold was reminded of an incident from when he was younger, when heād broken a window with a baseball, and Dad was asking about the damages owed. The dread was tangible.
For a long moment King didnāt respond, and Gold was almost starting to think he wouldnāt when he finally answered, āThatās not my story to tell,ā Kingās voice was tinged with quiet rage, making Gold shiver. Is that what the others heard, when his Dad tried to destroy a world? Or was Goldās father louder in his villainy? āAnd if I tried, Iād genuinely get too angry to sleep. Just know that if I had my way, that stick would NEVER get anywhere near Purple again.ā
āSo my hunch was correct,ā Mangoās voice was quiet, almost inaudible, āThe kidās an abuse victim.ā
Oh, and it just got worse.
āLike I said, Purpleās story isnāt mine to tell.ā King spoke through gritted teeth, āIf you want the details, you can ask them like the adult youāre supposed to be. But Iām not saying anything else about it. I donāt even think Purple knows how much I know about their previous home.ā
Mango scoffed, āNo wonder the kidās so attached. How can you not feel guilty?ā
āGuilty?ā King echoed.
āFor using that kid like you are? For taking in some sad, pitiable orphan just to make them replace your dead child?ā
That- that wasnāt true, Gold forced himself to think. There was no way that Goldās Dad would do that to some poor kid, right? Butā¦ there was no way Goldās Dad would commit attempted murder, or destroy an entire world, either. He searched himself for some sign, any sign, that his Dad wouldnāt do that to Purple, and was met only with a clawing emptiness in his chest.
At this point, Gold didnāt know what to think of his own father.
āIāve already told you,ā Anger crept into Kingās voice, though he kept the volume low, āPurple is not a replacement for Gold. Theyāre not some pet project, or some band-aid solution Iāll abandon now that Goldās back.ā
ā...Well, itās not like itās my business,ā Mango dismissed. Gold could hear rustling as he turned away from King, āOnce I have the money, Gold and I are out of here. After that? You and your sad orphan can play happy house all you like.ā
Bile churned in Goldās stomach. How could his dad talk like that about Purple? After what theyād done for Gold? After what heād learned about them?
Was his Dad always a bad person, and Gold had just been too stupid to see it?
The argument may have continued, but Gold was beyond caring. Bitter resentment and sour guilt pooled in his stomach to create a nauseating mixture. He couldnāt understand; how could his Dad claim to love him while using his death as an excuse to treat the people around him like trash? And poor Purple, caught in the middle. Kingās emotional support and Mangoās target of resentment, allowing themselves to take on the Ochre familyās burdens so the rest of them could be happy. It felt to Gold like someone should take on Purpleās burdens, for once.
And if his father wasnāt up to the task? Well, then Gold would have to do it instead.
---------------------
(Inhale) So.
I've been itching to put this story down for a while. My original idea was to make it a comic, but after some thought I decided to make it a fanfic instead. I just didn't expected it to be so LONG. Seriously, this is a multichapter fic and this is chapter ONE. Oh boy.
Feel free to let me know what you think so far, or if you come across any typos or anything. I did my best to edit, but this ended up being a lot longer than I'd expected. There were just so many little moments I'd wanted to include, I couldn't bring myself to cut anything.
I'm not sure how often I'm going to update this fic. It took like a month of work to write and draw everything, and I do have other things I want to do. But I'll do my best, I promise.
#Okay so I found this through ao3 and I flipped. I'm too scared to comment on there so I'm going feral here.#OHMYBDCHFUCKFIGN GODTV YOUREW THE PERSOEN YOUREE THE THE TFRWLLE yOURE THE FELLA I KNEW FROM MY THSC PHASE!!!!! YOURE THE ONE WHO WROTE VS!!#(Valiant Souls I mean) OH MY GODSHGDHEAVENS!!! I ADOREW THIS#side note: I think I have an inadvertent fondness of sticks BUT that aside#OH MY GOD KING ORANGE AND PURPLE AND TSC AND RED AND THE REST OF THE COLOR GANG!!!!!#(You can tell who's the favorites from who gets mentioned first.)#YOU DON'T KNOW HOW QUICKLY I SCRAMBLED TO READ THIS FIC AFTER I SEARCHED UP VS ON AO3 REREAD THE CLOSING CHAPTERS OF IT#(Can't believe I was still lurking there to see the tumblr banner change during an important chapters release I liked VS a lot did you know)#I looked at your profile there and flipped when I saw AvA there but why was I surprised I thought. Sticks. Of course. Of course you did.#I LOVE THIS FIC??? I LOVE HOW YOU CAN MAKE ME HATE MY THEORETICAL PAST SELF AND HOW I KNOW I'D BE TOO STUBBORN TO SEE MY OWN DOWNFALL??#YOU POTRAYED THAT FEELING SO WELL?? THE IDEA OF LOOKING AT A MIRROR OF YOUR PAST SELF? *cough* sorry anYway. The idea that even as you con-#convince your past self on why falling into this rabbit holeā¢ of rage you know you'll fall into is bad but your past self thinks you're-#you're big bad and stupid and does the Thingā¢ you know will get him into trouble and only hurting others around him in ways he doesn't reali#(I am looking at one person. Hi Mango- no not you King hi King)#Tell Gold I said hi./j#SPEAKING OF GOLD ā CALL ME INSANE BUT IT'S FUNNY HOW PURPLE HAS MUCH IN COMMON WITH GOLD BUT NOT (This was mentioned wasn't it?#āthe more differences I find between them the parallels alike them outweighā or something of the like. Mango(King) you funny man.)#JXNSDKAJFHSJDJSJDJSJD#Okay sorry but I looked at the cover again.#I still sincerely believe that is NOT a trophy#That looks either like an IV bag (what's it called?) or a hamster bottle or like someone else said ā a water bottle. No offense ā#I have severe processing issues./hj#I love that charming mistake.#And final note. I think.#Clearly this fic wasn't designed to be visualized with the design for KO/MT I had in mind because an averagely heavy man pinning down someā#some burly mf who's just taking the brunt sounds utterly comedic. (Mango the former King the latter. Of course.)#I adore this fic I came cause I know you for writing good Sticks and what do I come back to? You writing good sticks. I actually love that.#AvA#AvM#King Orange
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š mascara by @/softstellars (on going)
geto x fem reader
You've never been a particularly good person, you're self-aware enough to know it. It's your only flaw, and recently you've actually been working to better yourself. For example: paying for a 30-dollar Uber so you can take your friend home only for her to ditch you for some guy when it comes down to it. Although youāre pissed, you decide to try and make the best of it instead of get into a screaming match with her. It's an easy thing to do when Getou Suguru is offering you everything to do just that. Everything a party entails: liquor, weed, and sex with a perfect stranger. And Getou knows perfectly well you have a boyfriend, so it's not like he'll want anything serious.
š a pearl by @lemonlover1110 (completed and posted on tumblr!)
toji x fem reader
The Fushiguros needed a nanny, and the pay was too good to not apply, especially since your family needed financial help. You were the perfect nanny for the kids, they loved you as if you were their own mother. Slowly, you built up the perfect relationship with the family. Especially with Mr. Fushiguro. A man who would constantly visit you after dark. A man who you thought had sincere intentions but at the end of the day didn't care about you. A selfish man who just saw you as a tool to make his wife mad. A man who didn't care about you but didn't want you with anyone else. A man that took away your ability to know what a healthy relationship was. You couldn't speak up about it since all the fault would fall at your feet and would be deemed as the "homewrecker".
š you, my angel and my saint by @lemonlover1110 (completed and posted on tumblr!)
toji x fem reader
sequel to a pearl!
After having an affair with your boss, you're left to deal with the consequences, those being: two exhausting new jobs and a child. A child that he never got to know the existence of. Now all you had to do was keep her hidden, which should be an easy task, right?
š rings by @/bungeemum (on going)
toji x fem reader
you divorced the man in front of you for a reason. so why was he standing on your doorstep, guilt plastered on his face, and eyes glinting with hope?
š a dangerous game by @/anaoyuo (completed)
gojo x fem reader
geto x fem reader
Both men agreed to a game about who fucks you first, but they didn't play their cards right. Gojo and Geto changed the course of the game when they decided to keep you around for way longer than intended, making you fall for their sweet way to deprave you, and now you have to face the consequences in a gamble that they call their life.
š fateās gamble by @/anaoyuo (on going)
gojo x fem reader
geto x fem reader
sequel to a dangerous game
ē¼åā a story about predestined affinity, set in a world where the intoxicating thrills of wealth intertwine with amorality.
š him & i by @pharixden (on going)
gojo x fem reader
toji x fem reader
sukuna x fem reader
A cheating husband, a widowed bodyguard and a malevolent fling of the past who owes a favour isnāt a combination for the faint of heart, but not every girl is a damsel in distress.
š changes by @lemonlover1110 (on going also on tumblr!)
gojo x fem reader
From childhood friends to lovers to mere strangers. Your love story with Satoru Gojo was one from a fairy tail, until it wasn't. When you were twenty-one, Satoru left you without an explanation. Five years later, you meet again but nothing is quite the same. Too many things need to be explained, especially the fact that there's another Gojo that Satoru has yet to meet.
š the man in apartment 381 by @lemonlover1110 (completed also on tumblr!)
toji x fem reader
Looking for a new beginning after the death of your husband, you move away from town. That's when you meet him, Toji Fushiguro, a widower with a three-year-old son. You two understand each other, which draws you close. Except you two don't realize that feelings would eventually develop, and neither of you want that. Feelings are the last thing you two want after finding out the great damage that they can cause. When you two discover this, it's too late.
š 4th avenue viewing by @/softstellars (completed)
nanami x fem reader
Nanami Kento is intelligent, serious, reserved and can easily catch someone in a lie. It's his job to do just that, he's renowned for it. So when he comes to your university to offer up an internship, it's quite the opportunity. Anyone would jump at the chance, except for you. But no, you just had to be the one caught in a lie.
š forgotten souls by @/killerpoultry & @/bebobopobo (completed)
sukuna x fem reader
You and Sukuna have been married for years. Even though he is brash, mean, and sadistic, you love him more than anything. While he may not show it much, he truly loves you too. One day you get into a terrible car accident and lose all your memories. You learn to live once more while Sukuna must now get you to fall in love with him all over again.
š love kills by @/sourome (on going)
i actually donāt know š i think toji x fem reader
The wealthy and successful Zenin family, well respected and seemingly perfect. But all that glitters is not gold. Toji Zenin, CEO and face of the Zenin Group acts like a gentleman but is a vile creature that has ruined many lives, such as yours. That married man dared to play with your motherās heart many years ago, destroying her sanity and her life and ultimately killing her. Now years later and being all grown up you decide to seek revenge, he deserves to suffer that same destiny and die of love. With the help of a few friends you plan to become a part of his life and his every thought but you didn't take into account his son, that man had the potential to turn your plans upside down.
š the black swan by @uselesslydamaged (completed)
sukuna x fem reader
Loving someone is easy, but experiencing it is harder.
š bodyguard by @/succybuss (on going)
toji x fem reader
Your Grandfather, a man involved in unsavory businesses that has taken you under his wing, has informed you that you will be under the care of a full-time Bodyguard. Unhappy with your grandfather's decision, you decide to go out for a night of drinking for your last night of freedom. There, you encounter a man you planned on taking home, but life had other plans in store for you...
š violet lights by @septembersummer (completed)
gojo x fem reader
In which you're at a party that you should've skipped when you capture the attention of a boy who looks like an angel and grins like the devil. He looks beautiful in the neon lights, and maybe you just want to make your ex-boyfriend jealous, but trouble with a tongue ring does sound like fun, just for tonight. What's the worst that could happen, you know?
š starboy by @septembersummer (completed)
gojo x fem reader
sequel to violet lights
After your ex-boyfriend gets arrested on national television, you find yourself realizing that you really didnāt know much at all about Gojo Satoru. Well, heās better known in the Yakuza as The Six Eyes, not that he ever told you that.
š sweet little lies by @/mooglepaws (on going)
toji x fem reader
Megumi Fushiguro is the perfect FiancƩ. Caring, loyal, successful, devastatingly handsome and crazy in love with you. So how and why do you end up fucking his Dad? As your wedding looms and the consequences of your affair unfold, you have to make a choice between the Fushiguro men.
This is a Toji x Reader x Megumi but the smut is almost exclusively Toji x Reader focusing on their affair.
š the twist of a knife by @darkcat23 (on going)
gojo x fem reader
This world is dull, colourless in your eyes. You are just trying to keep going with your life, not bothering anyone, trying to support your mother and yourself. So what happens when you agree to help your ex one night? And what if you catch the attention of a certain white haired assassin? And he shows you just how colourful this world truly is. or, a story of a girl with a violent mind and a boy with violent tendencies, finding each other, intertwining, and feeding off one another. perhaps it is fate that has brought them together. or perhaps it's something more sinister, something more cold.
š untameable waves by @/circedemedici
(unknown i guess hopefully i can let you know)
has been taken down i dont know if itāll come back but if it does iāll link it! but iām leaving it here because it was most definitely my favourite :(
please let me know any other fics youāve read because i love reading fics with a LOT of plot and also let me know if you end up reading any and you enjoy them as much as i did! :3
i think i used every tag known to man LOL š
#modern sukuna#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#dilf toji#toji zenin#satoru gojo smut#satoru smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jjk smut#jjk gojo#jjk sukuna#jjk fanfic#jjk fic#jjk x black reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu geto#kento nanami smut#kento nanami x reader#nanami fluff#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami smut#nanami x you
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ā DAY 1 ā SIZE KINK
kinktober 2024. ā masterlist | ao3
ā including. ā capitano, wriothesley, zhongli, childe
ā warnings. ā fem! reader, size kink/size difference, dom/sub dynamics, childe is a lil mean and written like a casual fwb relationship, experienced zhongli
ā ā CAPITANO
capitano's teeth catch your lip as his hips inject a chilling coldness into every rut of his cock pressing into youā in other words, they were calculated and controlled rolls of his length basically breaking your body into two pieces.
rolling your eyes back, you catch a glimpse of the heavy armor that has long since been discarded, practically ripped off his body, revealing the full extent of his massive form and muscles shining of sweat.
yet for some reason, there was no warmth in his gaze, never, even now, you see, with your arms wrapped around his neck and his grip on your waist, his look was devoid of any softness.
"i told you to endure it, take it," he commands sternly, his voice a low growl as he pushes into you again, this time making sure he could get an extra inch buried in you.
you flinch and moan at the same time, you're so fucked out of your mind you just want to cum already, but the size of him alone made you gasp and clenchā it burned, yes, it felt stimulating, it felt like you're about to encounter an orgasm that could simply make you unable to walk for days.
but the way he handles youā no hesitation, no gentleness, every thrust sharp and vigorous, bursting like the freezing winter cold, as if the first harbinger was testing your limits without truly caring about them.
although somehow, despite his ruthlessness, he knows when to stop.
capitano knows exactly how far to push your body, as if he's memorized every inch of you, every reaction.
"take a big breath for me, yeah? you can take some more," perhaps he could become relentless when pleasuring you, merciless, but never cruel.
he fills you over and over, watching keenly how your pussy drenches him, and fuck, you can feel his eyes watching you, making you nervousā whether it was your hole gripping him, red and puffy begging for your break or your eyes admiring his stomach, he sees it all.
ā ā WRIOTHESLEY
without haste, wriothesley wraps his arms around you, indulging in a strong and unyielding love as he presses you against him. right there, you feel it, you notice his breath against your neckā one exhale, the second one coming in shortlyā he's hot, shaking, lips curved up in a smile as the gentle praises already began to spill from his lips.
"you"re so amazing, sweetheart, you know that," he groans, his voice a little shaky as you squeeze him into you, deep and gripping him into your cunt, "look at youā¦ taking all of me aahā so easily."
his size was clearly overwhelming you, crushing you in ways you hadnāt thought were even remotely possibleā although personally his words make it bearable, pleasurable as he smothers his length against your walls, the swollen flesh squeezing him so tightlyā and fuck, the more you took of him the better it felt, the more, the better.
shit, you actually believe you've never been this horny for the duke before.
"you're perfect, so perfect, fuckā" he continues walking you through his clouded praises before one of his hands began tracing the slopes of your trembling body, "so tight, yeahā¦ but handling me like itās nothing."
he pushes deeper, filling you completely, the creaking of the mattress beneath you both only fueling the desire erupting from your very core as his hands easily guide you, ensure you to take him slowly, little by little.
you can take him, right? that's out of the question, but you find yourself wanting more, wanting to prove yourself to him.
ā ā ZHONGLI
zhongli moves with the grace of experience fitting his intimidating size as your walls instantly pulsate around him, the torture of it being so full and burning between your legs, yet at the same time utterly fulfilling and euphoric.
truly, his amber eyes flicker with a quiet intensity, his body towering over you like a domineering shadow that you couldn't possibly get away fromā and at this time, your mind turns blurry, entirely clouded by him and his pretty face.
"it'll be fine, you don't have to worry," he murmurs, his voice soft, "i know what you can take, always." no rush, no urgencyā just the both of you.
well, his experience surely was obvious in everything he did, every slow thrust and your hole gradually getting used to him again.
how come he's so big but his massive form just fits so perfectly in you, every square of his cock filling you? zhongli wonders if you're actually made for him, however in this moment, he was preparing you for just how roughly he was about to ruin every fucking space of your walls.
his hips shift, fast snaps of his hips bouncing off your flesh, then pushing a little deeperā and the man was groaning into your ear because you see, zhongli loves how you squeeze him, how your legs shake against him and how your pussy made the wet, little sounds with every rock of hips.
ā ā CHILDE
"whatās wrong?" even now, as desperate and fucked out as childe made you sound like, he teases you, his voice low as he inches in deeper, making you swallow another ruthless shove of his cock, "hey now, canāt handle it? want me to play with you a lil' more?" his tone was surprisingly light despite him ignoring his own need to cum and cum all over you.
yet the challenge he saw right before him was unmistakably delicious.
the man knew exactly how big he was, how much it affected you, how you always needed him to properly nudge and rub your clit or lap at your tits, suck and pull at your nipples to make the growing stimulation explodeā or well, multiply.
yes, it's evident, his teasing antics were making him all the more attractive and you hated it, despised how ajax knew you got off on him being this way.
he gives another fast snap, the sheer stretch of him feeling like it was about to shut down your body as his hands greedily explored your skin. the torture of being so close to your climax, yet not knowing if childe would take it was driving you into madness.
ultimately, his palm settles above your stomach as he digs into it to not only, keep you right where he needed you to be, but also to make it even more pleasurable, until you're practically begging him to fuck the broad daylight out of your skull.
your legs quake, eyes rolled back and your jaw hanging low, "you can take more,ā he says, pushing deeper, "more, huh," he grinds faster, fucking you harderā you can, right? you've been suck a good fuck for him tonight, always actually, never failing to gasp into his chest so sweetly and stick to his core, your pussy red and swollen but so so full.
Ā©2024 anantaruĀ do not repost, copy, translate, modify
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#capitano x reader#capitano smut#childe x reader#childe smut#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley smut#zhongli x reader#zhongli smut#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#zhongli x you#capitano x you
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Fandom friends, we have won the battle (although we definitely did not win the war).
Yesterday, I wrote this post about lore.fm, an AI scraping app that was being marketed as an accessibility tool. Now, the person that has been promoting this app decided, in the light of plenty of backlash, to backtrack and pull it down, as they "feel uncomfortable" with how authors reacted to it.
Of this video, it's very important to highlight a couple of things:
the video is 3 long minutes of guilt-tripping: she keeps repeating that her (and her team, whose existence wasn't disclosed until yesterday: this app was marketed as being a sole woman's pet project) wanted to do good and create an accessibility tool. This comes with the underlying layer that all the authors who rightfully decided to defend their creations are ableist and in the wrong. It's a manipulation tactic;
there is no acknowledgement of the fact that the app was created by a team that specifically works to create apps that generate AI stories;
there is no explanation as to where the money to fund this app is coming from, and we all know that, when you're not paying for the product, you are the product;
this is backtracking, not genuine conversation: since the other day, the videos promoting this app went viral on r/Ao3, and plenty of people began contacting [email protected] to ask for their works to not be included. Then, the news spread on Tumblr too. They originally thought they could get away with "legally" stealing as much material as possible, and had to cut the project short because authors were doing everything in their power to stop them. The decision to take the app off for "reassessment" doesn't come from the goodness of their hearts.
At this point of the conversation, I think it's clear that the entirety of the project was relying on the perceived naĆÆvetĆ© of fanfic readers and writers, who are oftentimes seen and stereotyped as being silly teens and not adults with real jobs and real knowledge of the law. When they saw dozens, if not hundreds, of authors contacting them to ask their works to not be featured, some of them threatening legal consequences, they had no other choice but to backtrack.
For now, the issue is closed, but don't think it'll be forever. Know your rights, even if you're "just" a fic author, and defend yourself and your works too from these scummy companies that see us as nothing but machines that churn out material for them to steal and profit off of with no consequences.
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