#Zealous Pictures

[hybbat]

I do think a good chunk of the 'cringey atheist' stereotype did come from the fact that, especially americans, regardless of their actual religious status are just casually christian and refer to things through a religious filter and that isn't seen for how overwhelming/obnoxious/frustrating it is. Its absense, such as when writing a story and things like "oh god" or other casual references are remove or replaced, is seen as notable the same way people find the cast being all women or queer being 'abnormal'.

And I think more people, especially here on tumblr, should take a moment from ragging on some kid being "cringey" saying god doesn't exist or making atheist jump around like dancing monkeys to establish they're one of the good respectful ones before they ever even begin to talk about their own thoughts, and examine why so much content just inserts god into a conversation that had nothing to do with religion like it's the expected norm, the same way they examine the invasiveness of casual heteronormativity.

[gr3yearl]

robin buckley as chappell roan and steve as her backup dancer and platonic soulmate (obviously)

something something they go to the vmas, perform, look cool as fuck whilst doing it, and eddie munson, lead guitarist of corroded coffin, is physically incapable of not making a fool of himself on social media, much to his manager's chagrin

everything goes along swimmingly between the two and with robin's career until someone, probably a rabid corroded coffin fan, digs into steve and discovers robin and steve are married, and have been for years

cue an extensive media circus where a not-small minority of robin's fandom cancels her for lying about being a lesbian. robin and steve work together to search for the patience to explain midwestern homophobia and lavender marriages to 12 year olds on tiktok and are reasonably successful, much to their surprise

roughly half a year after the fiasco had died down -- besides the occasional over-zealous kid trying to remind people why their fav is #problematic -- eddie tweets 'i <3 sleeping with married men', followed by a frantic reply of 'THERE WAS MNEAT TO BE A PICTURE WITH THIS', before he finally manages to post the intended picture of him and steve

robin, Shit-Stirrer Supreme, innocuously posts a week later a wedding picture of her and steve, captioned 'the only man i'd trust to always be faithful to me' and eddie quite publicly unfollows robin

the groupchat with all three of them in it is full of screenshots and videos of reactions for them to laugh over, reaching its peak when robin features on a corroded coffin song

[shidouryusm]

✿༝༚༝༚ Wrapped in red ✿༝༚༝༚

・❥・Kuroo x reader

・❥・synopsis-> hey siri, what are the consequences of surprising your fiancé with a lingerie under a coat for his birthday?

・❥・ word count-> 5.6k words (nobody look at me)

・❥・content warning-> mdni, explicit smut, fem!reader, cun!lli!ngu$

・❥・a.n -> this is the last time I'll be reposting this if tumblr still doesn't like me I got nothing to do. Tagging a bunch of my mutuals so that atleast they can enjoy. may your cheese rot tumblr. Also happy kuroo day ignore I'm this late everyday is kuroo day stfu. dividers by @cafekitsune , @benkeibear and @quirrrky

Kuroo can feel the chills of the winter already settling in mid-November. The expanse of his living room is veiled with a thin layer of frigidness. The tiles were cold and a siren of silence rings through till the ends, until the little clock resting on the small table breaks through the curse with the beginning of a new day. 17th November. He stares at the clock. The slick hands points to 12, busy announcing his 29th birthday. It is a small, black, cat shaped clock that you found from god knows where and gifted him out of blue. Your justification being “it looks like you”. Kuroo snickers at the sudden wave of memory.

A whole lot of other things around his house are also extensions of you – the little section of potted plants on the shelves, the matching coffee cups, the red mittens hanging over the oven handle, kitchen magnets comprising pictures from both of your trip to Paris. They all are like pockets of your shadow scattered around, giving little hints of the day when you’ll ultimately mark your reign as the Mrs. of this house.

But as of tonight, each of them wildly indicates your lack of presence. Kuroo discerns that the silence was not any call of winter, rather it’s the sheer absence of your chortles and excited squeals around the house, especially tonight.

Kuroo was never that big on celebrating his birthdays, being on a competitive position in corporate asked for lot of compromises and Kuroo had wired himself to do that in his early years on job, not caring about forgetting his birthdays and stuff. Still, he manages to dig up time when it comes to yours or others. The man that he always is - relentless in his acts of services. 

However, you being around never quite made it possible for Kuroo to actually forget about his day. Always the more excited one, the best planner and as always, a little better than the previous years. Whether it be by throwing a grand party in a club for him or just by yourselves, with home cooked mackerel and rice, catching the golden sunset above and just savouring the day with a casket of good memories to look back on. Or it may be simply you by his side that makes each of his birthdays something to look forward to, even while being clutched by stress and non-stop work.  

He was indeed getting spoiled by such pampering because, as of this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be around you. To bask in the incessant warmth of your hugs and engulf himself in the pool of your kisses. Fuck. he really wishes you weren’t drowned in your work right now just so your singsong voice of Happy Birthday could reach his ears the first. He peers at his phone, several texts from his co-workers and friends wishing him were flooded in his notification bar, along with your last text, sent over an hour ago. 

Love♡♡ : work is so crazy right now, they should pay me for even gracing them my time this late >:(( anyways, good night. love you tets &lt;;33

Nothing after that. He stares at the text. You weren’t online which meant you are either too busy in work or have already fallen asleep…without wishing him? 

A small twinge of hurt pinched his heart at the thought of it. Although he tries to reason it with your pressure at work. But it’s been like this for a few days, you completely submerged in work, barely getting the chance to even facetime, not being overly zealous atleast 3 business days before his birthday.

The little red demon above his head tries to play tricks yet his heart works with rationale – leading two projects at the same time meant things will slip up. Distance may be bound to form. Who knows? even paths of life may deviate from one another and eventually-

His train of thought cuts short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. It’s 12:30 already. Kuroo internally pleads that it’s not some surprise by his former teammates because without you, he doesn’t think he will indulge even a slightest bit. 

The door swings open and so does kuroo’s jaw. You, in your full glory, a ginormous beige jacket wrapped all over you, hair dishevelled from the wind, yet framing the most beautiful face in the world, stand at the threshold, panting and holding a large box of what seems like a cake. 

“Oh my gosh tetsu, I was almost about to punch the baker. Dumbass messed up my whole timing”

Kuroo was still busy steadying himself but he shifts from his place, allowing you to scoot past him and settle yourself in the dining seat, placing the cake there. 

Weren’t you asleep? Weren’t you way too busy to come? What is going on? 

He looks at you, making yourself comfortable at his space, like you are just meant to fit inside these 4 walls. The frosty silence suddenly vanishing by the cauldron of warmth you bring with you everywhere. He can’t wait for the day when it will be regular sight. 

“Baby, are you gonna stand there the whole night?” you giggle, striding towards his still figure beside the doorway. You hook your arms around his waist, your head tipping back as you stand on your toes, planting a soft kiss over his lips.

Kuroo’s eyes flutters shut as he draws himself into every fleeting moment of this kiss. His hands find your cheeks and large palms cradles them as gently as a rose petal, head dipping down to take in more of the feeling of your lips against him. The taste of your cherry balm engulfing him. 

You part from him, merely inches away as your lower lips bruses against each other. You whisper into the small gap, “Happy Birthday, my love. I’m not too late, am I?” 

“Doesn’t matter when your wish is what makes it worth. I almost thought you forgot” he hums, hands curling up against your neck, urging you to look at him. You crane your head up, meeting those honeyed eyes pooling with a multitude of emotions. 

“Awe you miss me that much? I have been real quiet this year on purpose. Trying something a little different”, you cheekily say, poking your tongue out. Kuroo quirks an eyebrow, “always a step ahead, aren’t you?”  he pecks your forehead while a small whisper of “I love you. Thank you for making this day something to look forward to” grazes over your skin. Your feel the kaleidoscope of butterflies zooming inside your ribcage, for the way his words echoed through the drums of your heart. As if the resonance between his and your heart just created more love to harbour.

"Tetsu", you grab his face, dipping his tall frame downwards to place another kiss. This time between his eyes. Hoping this kiss was equivalent to the million words he said with those gaze a few seconds ago. 

You take his hand, pulling him towards the cake, “now now,  it’s not the time to be all mopey. I fought for this cake and now you get to commemorate this day of high significance”. Kuroo chuckles, you were full of beans indeed. 

To think just a few moments back his thoughts were spiralling, he registers that that how much you being by his side grounds his inner monologue of hidden insecurity. Kuroo is always the epitome of  confident man but the inner cloud of anxiety yet rumbles time to time. Until, your presence acts like the yellowy sunshine after rain, banishing any grey thoughts that dare to delude him. 

“Why such high significance, may I ask?” you roll your eyes, amusement twinkling in your eyes and you answer like this is the most simple question ever, “Because you got to be born and be my boyfriend and then my groom-to-be, duh”, wiggling the left ring finger, you laugh. Shaking his head, he tunes into the peals of laughter with you. He cuts the cake, feeding you a piece before noticing you were still in your coat. 

“Baby, are you that cold? You know you could wait a bit more for your winter cloth haul” he gestures at the neck high coat. You squirm a little. He finally noticed.

“y-yeah, I know. there’s a…reason”, you send a sheepish smile on his way, effectively avoiding his gaze. 

Kuroo reaches towards you, curious at your shift in demeanor. He leans down, meeting your gaze with his ever sharp ones and you found yourself faltering a bit, heartbeat pacing higher than normal. 

“Princess, are you okay? you got a fever?” he runs his hand over your forehead to which you shake your head. Taking his fingers in yours, your fingertips glides over his knuckles. Unable to stall in any longer, you slung your arms around his neck. 

“Actually, I have your gift”, bringing your mouth closer to his ear as you whisper, “right under”, you murmur. His hand is now brought on your lower back, the feel of your skin right underneath the coat, clearly evident. 

Kuroo sucks in a breath, catching on to your innuendo immediately. Palms migrates towards your shoulder blades where he can feel the thin strap and bare skin over the coat. Curiosity killed the cat and now he just got fucking murdered.

“Hmmm? Should’ve said it earlier, princess.” kuroo hums, a mellowy timbre coating his voice. You gulp audibly, anticipating his moves. 

His hands trail over your shoulders, reaching up and stop around the collar of your coat, playing with the top button as he flashes his Cheshire like smile. Demeanor changing from concerned to smug in a flash of light. You keep your eyes on him, heavy breaths escapes your nose and mouth. Kuroo leans forward, his voice now merely a whisper tickling your ears.

“Should I guess what my present is?” he asks coyly. You can feel the teasing glint the words carry.  

“You can open it already, y’know?” your voice had an air of neediness, wanting nothing more than to indulge in his touches and losing yourself in him for the night. 

Kuroo tuts, shaking his head in faux disappointment, “tsk tsk tsk. it’s my present, princess. Let me enjoy it. in my way”. With that, he flicks the button open, his eyes catching a hint of red around your neck. A dark chuckle escapes his throat.

“Red, huh? You surely did some homework before”, another button pops open, this time, the base of your throat open up and a little red ribbon wrapped around the middle like a bow greets him. 

Kuroo felt his heart thrumming loudly, imagining what he could find after fully unbuttoning your coat. The suspense of the act spiking his blood and rushing downwards towards his crotch, he can already feel himself getting hard. God, you really knew how to outdo yourself every single year. 

Kuroo presses a kiss right beside that bow, feeling your erratic pulse against his lips. It curls into a smirk, right against your skin. You tip your head back, eyes closing and hands finding their way to the hem of his shirt. 

“Uh-uh, princess. Not so early.” Kuroo envelopes his hands over yours, before bringing them together behind your back, caging you between his hold. His right hand, once again,  flits back in its previous mission while his left hooks both of yours ; effectively locking them behind your back. “Not until I’m done unwrapping my present”. A kiss plants underneath your ear; the skin tingling with its effect. 

“You sure are taking a hell lot of time” you scorn. Kuroo chortles, popping another button open. This time a part of your sternum peeps out, he can make out the hint of cleavage from the skin exposed. More blood runs downwards and kuroo fights the urge to tear the coat off and bend you against the table to ravage you then and there. 

“Good things take time, princess. Moreover, you seem to enjoy it.” Kuroo muses, his hips roll against yours and you could feel the hardness of his crotch brushing up against your lower belly. “Take this as a punishment for being late to my birthday” he opens another button and the lace cupped cleavage makes their way.

“But it wasn’t my fault.” you pout. You’re so adorable, kuroo thinks. He laughs under his breath before pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. His hands trail over your sternum, dipping down towards the fat of tits spilling out before he ghosts over them ever so slightly, drawing a whine out of you from the untouched touch. 

“Oh but you were…” he drawls, “to think you went outside like this. Being a naughty little girl, are we now, princess?”. You open your mouth to say something  but his lips silences yours. His tongue almost immediately finding its way in your mouth and playing with yours. 

The kiss was sloppy with the way kuroo laps at your top lip, engulfing it in his mouth, saliva smears over your upperlips and drips down your lowers. The steamy makeout session in addition to the his hips grinding against your coat covered crotch leaves you staggering. 

One by one, he unbuttons the whole coat till the end, each time kissing a part of you he passes in the process, to all the way down, where he is kneeling. He looks above to see your figure hugged by this beautiful dark red fabric, only covering the bare necessities. 

He is eye level with your bare thigh, the plush skin adorned by a thin lacy garter, linked to the equally thin panties with a small band of cloth. You feel his hand runs across the back of your thigh, the cool band of your engagement ring gliding smoothly over your skin. The pads of his fingers dip down a little deep when he reaches your almost bare ass. 

“Fuck. what I’d do to you” you hear him murmur against your lace clad thigh. He scrapes his teeth against the fabric, peeling it off and exposing the beautiful skin out. The sharpness of his teeth mingles with the softness of his lips as he sucks and nips at the skin, leaving a purple well of mark around that area. Your breath hitches as you feel the dull throb of the hickey while he continues his ministration all over your inner thighs. 

“We better take this to the room before I end up taking you right here” his teeth still ghosts over your skin, now attaching around the band of your garter, tugging it gently before releasing it back, the elastic smacking your skin, causing a whine to tumble out your throat. His actions causing your pussy clench around the fabric.

He continues his journey up with his mouth before reaching your pussy. The material doing nothing to hide the outline of your cunt and looking closely enough he sees the dampness that is caused by your arousal. His fingers join in, smoothing upwards over the fabric gently. A moan leaves your lips, with the way he is being tantalisingly slow. If you could, you would have shoved his fingers inside. 

“Already wet and I barely did anything, baby. Wait for the real action atleast” his voice sardonic and praising simultaneously. He plants a kiss right over your crotch before trailing upwards. 

“Tetsu, you little-” you whine to which kuroo snickers. He loves you to death but he loves it more than anything when he is edging you and you are writhing and pleading.This is when he gets the chance fill you to brim with pleasure. The power surge he gets from this is immeasurable, when nothing leaves your mouth except his name. 

“What, my darling?” kuroo kisses below your navel, his lips smoothing over the surface with no friction. He peppers your stomach with nips and kisses before reaching under your breasts. A small kiss between the valley of your tits and then he finally rises up. He caresses the sides of your breats before holding you by your waist, squeezing you gently,pulling your figure flush against him. His hardened member now rocking against you with less obstruction. 

Kuroo tugs the coat off of your shoulder and it pools around your ankle, revealing your whole set to your fiance. Kuroo gawks at your figure, as if time stopped its track for him to drink your body with his eyes. 

“God you’re fucking beautiful” his voice low and husk filled. Kuroo peppers kisses on the curve of your shoulders, hiking his lips up into the crevice of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses trailing towards your jaw.

You have always been the prettiest for him but this colour on you has popped out every feature of yours in the most alluring, elegant way. Kuroo huffs out short breaths as his eyes find it difficult to tear away from you, he eyes you from down to up before his eyes land on that ribbon. 

Oh fuck that ribbon. The way you made yourself like a present, kuroo is positive there isn’t any better gift in the whole planet than the one before his eyes. His lips find you again, passion and lust permeating through the kiss. His hands reach up to your breasts and he gives them a good squeeze. The nipples pert and poking through the cloth against his palm.

He guides your body along with his towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss, stumbling along the way but nonetheless reaching towards the edge of the bed. He pushes you, still connected with your lips, cradling your head before you fall into the heap of soft mattress. His body hovers over yours and one of his knees positions dangerously close to your cunt. 

“We gotta take this off before I tear it and that is the last thing I wanna do” kuroo husks, his hand deftly working their way to take off the top. 

Not that it did anything to cover what’s underneath, yet as he removes the bra and sees your tits spill out, he couldn’t help but take one in his mouth. Fondling the other one with his hand.

The feel of his mouth finally somewhere on you has you teetering on the edge, you let out out a moan. Your hands rake through his ink black locks while he tugs you nipple with his teeth. His knee presses against your almost bare pussy the sensation spikes your insides. 

Your hands reach for his shirt once again, urging him to take it off , to which he obliges but not before remarking something about it. 

“Can’t wait to see me naked, guess I can indulge in your desire a little bit”, you roll your eyes. Smug bastard. You feel him shift downwards, his knees touching the floor while leaving you sprawling on the bed, he adjusts your legs around his shoulders before scooting downwards.

His hands plays around your nipples, twisting and turning while his mouth travels south. He lets his teeth do the work, pulling at the underwear and tugging it off of you, finally letting the sight of your clenched cunt soothe his eyes. The way he keeps a unbreaking eye contact while doing the dirtiest of act makes your arousal seep down your cunt even more. He tugs the panties halfway through before teething at the garter again, slowly dragging it across you skin and pulling it off. 

“Practising for the big day, princess” he grunts, taking them off of you fully. You let out a light croon, even amidst the unholy acts of provocation, the gentle reminder of your promised near future sends you into a blissful train of thought. 

Kuroo’s sharp nip at your inner thigh brings you back. He stares at you with drooping eyes, silently challenging you to not break the contact as he lowers himself over your slit. He licks a stripe of your pussy, the feel of his tongue like millions of fireworks inside your nerves. You silently breath out a gasp while kuroo begins his onslaught of kitten licks over your cunt. Gradually reaching to your clit. He presses a kiss over the nub before capturing it with his mouth, gently sucking on it.

His tongue flicks your now swollen clit as you rock your body, bringing him closer, as if it’s anyways possible. Your mingled sounds of squeals and moans and whines mixes with the soft squelch of his fingers entering you. He prods them gently over your walls, knowing where to stretch and poke to evoke the most raw reaction from you.

“Tetsu…fuck...aah..” your voice are nothing more than little tufts of breaths as he shifts his pace every so often, while never leaving your puffed clit unattended. The alternate of his tongue and fingers works wonders to roll you over the edge. 

“Cum for me, baby” you hear his raspy voice vibrating across your skin, he sloppily makes out with your slit before driving his tongue inside, his face tilts as he tries to reach as deep inside you as he can. The grip of his hands on your thighs tightening. His cock feels heavy and the burning desire to replace it with his tongue flames his inside – but not before he makes you cum like this atleast twice. 

Two of his fingers drum over your clit while his tongue prods inside you. His jaw hurts but nothing matters when he gets to see the expression he draws out of you. Mouth falls open, while your head tips back. Not giving a damn about keeping eye contact because fuck if you could have exploded out of your body, you would. 

Kuroo groans at the irresistible feel of your essence around his tongue, “tastes so good for me”, he hums around your pussy. You could feel the wave of arousal waiting to burst and as you hear the words escape his mouth, your body reacts on accord. Back arches beautifully as you release yourself against kuroo’s lips.

Your mind levitates in the cloud of bliss while you feel Kuroo laps at your essence, the drag of his lips against you too euphoric. to joyful to get down from. But even while being on the daze, you feel Kuroo going at your pussy once again. 

“T-Tetsu…hnnggh”, you can feel the added force that his tongue applies as it drives inside you once again. 

“You thought I’d leave you to come around my tongue only once.” he rasps, his nose brushes against the overstimulated clit. He nuzzled himself against your cunt, his hands reaching over your ass and kneading the soft flesh. You let a wanton moan, too loud for the neighbours to not hear. Kuroo smiles, tongue thrusting inside your cushiony walls even more. 

You could feel your body quivering, preparing itself for another wave of orgasm not long after the previous one. You tug at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. Your other hand grabs at your breast to hold onto something. A sight Kuroo savours from behind his bangs that cover his face.

“I’m gonna…” you whine, thighs jolting around his arms while he keeps them locked. “Make a mess around my face, darling. Let go.” Kuroo was getting delirious at your taste. His cock nearly bursting his load in his pants. He rubs against the board of the bed, releasing some friction. He can sense your orgasm looming and naturally, he increases the pace, tumbling you over the edge for the second time. His teeth grazes the clit, giving it some attention before a harsh suckle has you going for the 2nd time that night. 

Your back arches, juices spraying out of your pussy. Kuroo is enthralled seeing you this dirty, this sexy, this sinful. You didn’t hold back  your sounds either, sweet melodies of his name with pleasured moans ringing throughout the room and satisfying Kuroo’s ears as he succeeds in making you spent. 

Not that he intends to stop yet.

Your body is still quivering, the afterwave of the pleasure still gushing inside your body. Kuroo caresses your thighs and hips, coaxing your body to relax. 

“You did so well, my sweet baby. looking gorgeous cumming around my face like that”, kuroo engulfs your mouth, his tongue shoves yours around and you decide to suck the tip of his tongue, relishing in the tangy essence of yours. A moan erupts from the man above as your wrap your hands around his sculpted back, losing yourself in the kiss. 

Kuroo helps you get down from the high before flipping you over. You notice the way he positioned you both, you are right in front of the dressing mirror. 

When did he even do that? 

Kuroo kneads your ass from behind, while another hand grabs your chin to make you look at the mirror. 

“Eyes up there, baby. Watch how I fuck this little pussy into oblivion”, you can feel his clothed cock grinding against your ass. Whimpering, you wiggle back, feeling more of him, causing Kuroo to suck in a breath.

“Behave, darling.” Kuroo lightly smacks your ass, watching the flesh ripple and groaning at the sight. 

You look over your shoulders at him. He looks so broad, the toned sculpture of his long hours at gym and sports really gifted you with a goldy sight. His face flushed with crimson and copper eyes blown out with lust. The contour of his abs to sexy to not gawk 24/7. His sweatpants are already hung low, cock whipped out, hard and swollen. The tip angry with precum dripping down the globes of your ass. You try to shift back, intending to return the favour he generously gave you a while back. 

But Kuroo , not-so-gently puts you back on your position, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you against the sheets. Your ass hiked up more to flash the clenching pussy in the air. The cold draft blowing around your sticky folds making you shiver. 

“Tetsu!” you exclaim, as he starts dragging his length over your folds, adding more of his arousal with yours, the spot lubed and moist for Kuroo to slide right in. 

“What did I say about behaving, princess? Are you looking for to get punished?” his voice dark and menacing, only reserved for you, in the bed. You shake your head, eyes locked with his through the mirror. Your nipples brush against your sheets with the way you are bent, adding more to the sensation.

You try to tug off the red ribbon, not wanting any ounce of fabric on your skin when kuroo grabs your hand, harshly. Hooking it over your back, he hikes your body up a little higher, his cock straight against your fold, the tip hitting snug the clit. His eyes are narrowed, eyes a little menacing, 

“Don’t you dare take that off. This stays on.” his voice low. You mewled an okay, too entranced with the way he looks behind your back to notice his manhandling. 

“That’s my girl”, kuroo hums before sliding inside you with ease. The remnants of previous shenanigans making it easy. Your mouth falls in a O as you feel the ridge of his cock gliding past your walls. With each of his inch bottoming inside you, you let out a moan, voice deliriously filthy. The sounds like a dulcet for him. 

He rams the last of his inch at once, making your body lurch forward. Your face scrunched in a beautiful frown, teeth digging at your lips. Hair falls over your face as you dip your head down to adjust to his size.  Kuroo becomes too busy admiring your features through the mirror. You look like a goddess, a goddess he brought down on her knees before him. 

He was probably too enticed because it wasn’t until the roll of your hips around his pelvis that dragged him down to where he was. “T-tetsu. movee” , he hears your plead. 

“As you say, baby girl.” kuroo starts drilling his cockinside, sliding in and out of you, the head colliding with the gummy walls near your cervix. You were pushed forward with the intensity of his thrust yet the feeling of his prominent vein grinding inside your wall was too heavenly to complain.

It was him and you, intertwined with each other, knocking the door of lust but beneath it was promises of love.  

The grip of his fingers around your hip was deathly. It sure is gonna leave a dent. Kuroo grunts and groans as he watches the base of cock froth with both of your juices. The squelching sound everytime he enters you fills the room along with the slaps of the skin. 

You could feel his balls hitting you right above the clit, light strokes against them making you dizzy . His hands snakes around your stomach, reaching your clit. He takes the nub between his two fingers, rolling them around and pinches it. You squeal at his actions, back bending away from him, but the grip of his arm around keeps you flush. 

“Your pussy is made right for me. Almost made me bust a nut the moment I slid my cock inside, sh-shit. so fucking tight and clenching” , his words are so vile, yet so sweet to hear. He bends down, back flush with his chest as he presses a hoard of kisses around your nape and shoulders. Suckling the skin and leaving out purple marks in its wake. 

“Tetsu..more…you feel so good against me” you cry, eyes rolling with the way he is snapping his hips against yours. The constant assault over your g-spot inside and the clit outside once again announces the impending avalanche. 

“More you say? Greedy girl.” he rasps before hoisting you up, one hand still playing with your clit while the other finding your left breast. 

Cupping the whole fat of it, he squeezes the mound hard. His hips unrelenting with their strokes. The bed creaks from the sudden movement. The headboard banged against the wall once. Now the neighbours are definitely gonna know.

“So fucking beautiful. Truly the best gift ever, princess. I love you so much”,  you turn sideways to face him, his molten amber eyes mirroring the heart eyes you are sending him across. 

You capture his lips in a soft kiss, your hands reaching his face to cradle the sides and pulling the front tufts a little. Vibrations of hums and moans share between you two in the kiss, while both your bodies work on their own accord. The golden light of the  lamp falls over your skin, the golden iridescence  reflecting of your skin makes you nothing less than a fallen angel. The halo like glow of your body makes Kuroo's heart gallop loudly. Makes him wonder how he managed to find someone as perfect as you are.

“Look at the mirror. See how ethereal you look while taking me like that. God really took time while making you” , you chuckle at his cheesy words. No matter how dominant he acts in bed, at the end it was still your dorky, corny Tetsu. 

You zero in the way he fucks you, the outline of his cock visible as he drills into you. A dragged moan fills the air. kuroo kisses around your temple, his thrusts erratically hits you, losing rhythm. You realise he’s close, so you arch your back, feeling more of him inside. Fucking himself inside you. 

Kuroo hisses at the act, his fingers pinching your clit in return. Your walls clamp around his shaft, making him lose all the threads he had been holding onto ever since he buried his face in your cunt.  

“Shit, baby...take me…take all of it. Let's cum together”, his babbles choking in his throat as he thrusts in you one last time before warm ropes of his cum fills your pussy. You came around the same time, pooling his thighs with hot, sticky mess. 

He kisses you throughout the high, a level of euphoria never felt before. He realises he didn’t use any condom today neither did you retorted against it. Kuroo slides out of you, your cunt clenches from the lack of his heavy cock. He gently lays you down, bringing a wet towel and cleaning off the spilled cum from your thighs and his. Your face beams with the post-coital bliss as you spread your arms over your head, breathing heavily. 

“You good?”, kuroo asks, his voice regaining the gentle hold back. You nod, closing your eyes and relaxing yourself. 

“If I knew you’d go this crazy over a lingerie set, I’d have thought it through before buying.” you breathily say, seeing Kuroo’s face turn a little red. The debauchery dawning on him a little.

“You could wear an overalls over a trash bag and I’d still fuck you the same. It’s you who’s this hot”, Kuroo plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek, his hands smoothing your hair. He scoots you over, finding himself a space beside, pulling you against his side. His fingers work through your scalp while you find warmth in his body.

The comfortable setting almost lulling you to sleep before you lurch up, face palming yourself. Kuroo sits back, concerned at your sudden leap, while you look at him with guilty eyes.

“I forgot your actual gift at home, while being too excited for this one.”, you hide your face between your palm, whining and falling back on his chest. A hearty laughter rolls out of Kuroo at your state while he rubs your shoulders. His mind already bent on to tease you.  

“Wanna suck me off to balance that out?” kuroo sends a sly grin your way, his voice holding a glint of tease but really not expecting you to wallow in.

To his surprise, you part away from his chest, face filled with a challenging gleam. Without any words, you straddle him, holding his cock by the base. A dopey smile spreading all over your face. 

“Say less. I’ve been meaning to do that since forever.”

a.n-> aint nobody leaving the house without giving him a sloppy. if tags dont work and it flops then im giving him an even intense sloppy

comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated

tagging : @stsgluver , @kuroosexuall @shotorus + @satoruhour @hannzai @tetzoro @mrs-kurooo @quirrrky @pastelle-rabbit @planetnini @selarina @sookisaurus @itadorey @utahimeow @this-is-still-mia @kamorikiri @shoyostar @screampied-main

[lixie-phoria]

ੈ✩‧ ➛ han jisung thinks he's subtle as he pines over you

pairing : han x gn reader ; genre : fluff | warnings : none ; word count : 0.8k words

summary : han jisung couldn't be more subtle as he pined after you. ranging from eagerly buying your merchandise to watching your favorite shows just so he has more reasons to talk to you. it would've been adorable if it hadn't been going on for so long.

chan's ver. | hyunjin's ver. | jeongin's version | felix's ver. | lee know's ver. | changbin's ver.

if there was one thing han jisung would never judge overly zealous kpop stans for, was their passion. Never for the way they would viciously defend their bias or spend an unnecessary amount of money when trading photocards. He would never question their excitement. He couldn't. Not when he was on the same boat as them.

You were a rookie idol, so new to the world of kpop, so full of life and love for what you did, never letting the fame get to your head. Nobody could blame han for falling for you, really. The poor boy was so in love it was comical. He thought he was subtle with the way he was always steaming your music and buying your merch. He thought nobody would notice the secret fan account he ran for you on Twitter and Instagram. Han jisung thought he was a mastermind for the way he "skilfully" kept his crush a secret. But the boy could fool absolutely nobody, not his members nor yours. yes things were hard because of JYPs dating ban for rookie idols but did that stop him from being delusional? absolutely not.

the members caught him multiple times giggling to your instagram posts or marveling at your vocals during a performance. it was like watching a teenage boy fall in love for the first time, complete with the dreamy sighs and feet kicking.

when changbin caught jisung eagerly watching a show in their dorm early one morning, he wasn't that surprised. but when he found out it was a romance show? that raised a few questions because nearly everyone knew han was more of a horror lover. that was until the older man found out the shows name. of course han jisung was watching the show you had recently revealed in an interview you were obsessed with. the excited grin on his face and slight furrow between his brows as he concentrated on the plot would've been adorable if changbin hadn't been so exasperated. This was the seventh k-drama jisung was watching for you. just so he could find more reasons to talk to you, as if he didn't spend nearly half his time texting you either ways.

"Enjoying the story, han?"

of course han hadn't noticed changbin walk into his room. not when he was dutifully remembering every moment playing on the screen so he could talk to you about it later.

"yeah it's a nice show."

"i bet the person who recommended it is real nice too, huh?"

"hyung!"

changbin wished he could take a picture of the blush spreading across jisung's face and down his neck and send it to you with a message in big bold letters reading THIS MAN IS IN LOVE WITH YOU PLEASE ACKOWLEDGE HIM!!! but jisung would go wild so he chose the safer option of leaning again the younger boy's door frame, a teasing smirk playing at his lips.

"do you like this show better than the one you finished watching last week, which was also recommended by y/n?"

"i am not watching these shows just because y/n likes them."

"oh ok, so you're not going to text them about this episode the instant you're done watching it?"

"nope."

"good! so you don't mind if i text them about it instead? because i just finished the show last night."

it was a lie, obviously, but han was immediately scrambling up from his position on the bed, trying to convince changbin against it while trying not to blow his cover.

"just tell them you like them, jisung, y/n's not gonna avoid you for it."

"chan hyung just finished teasing me about this too, please don't start again."

changbin wished he could record han whining his denials too, because he couldn't believe how whipped someone could be.

that was until jisung's phone vibrated with a notification, and his disbelief only grew as he watched his member's eyes light up. jisung kept only your notifications on, so it was obvious who had texted him. all thoughts of changbin were forgotten as jisung eagerly read whatever you had sent, typing back his response immediately, earning a snort from changbin. jisung was known among their friend group for being a ghoster, but of course he was texting you back immediately. changbin knew he wasn't going to get any more responses when han didn't even look up from the screen.

"you better confess soon or im going to text them from your phone one day."

"you wouldn't dare!"

"i most certainly would."

changbin cackled as he left the younger boy shouting indignantly from his room. he knew the seven of them would breathe a sigh of relief only when han finally came clear to you about his feelings. until then, all they could hope for was the boy mustering the courage required to do so quick.

©lixie-phoria, 2023

tags : @lethallyprotected @dreamingaboutjisung @selcayuri @bangchansbae @aak22 @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba (send an ask to be added/removed!)

[chwefan]

made4me | vernon

ex-babydaddy!vernon x fem. reader | 7.6k words

i do NOT condone having a baby with a man you're not married to. i do not condone having unprotected sex. please do not be like them omg. this is also a reworked fic of mine so don't worry i am NOT stealing from anyone other than myself.

contains: vernon is the father of your child, you two broke up, unprotected sex, pining, yearning, mentions of a failed realtionship

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

you don’t know how you ended up in front of vernon’s place. even if you were the one behind the wheel, the one shifting the gears, and the one rolling through red stop signs and impatiently tapping your wheel at the lights, you don’t know how you ended up there. 

you looked out your driver side window to the house across the street. a long time ago, back when the wooden mailbox had your painted hand print on the side, you used to call this your home. now the place almost seemed unfamiliar. the car parked in the driveway was not yours and the mailbox was metal now. atleast you were in your right mind enough to not park directly in front. but you also knew this was just as bad. a car rolling to an ominous stop in a residential area like this would flag the attention of the over zealous neighborhood watch. looking across the street at a house in the dead of night would not work in your favor.

you knew you could’ve gone home. you could’ve let out a deep sigh to clear your head and recenter yourself. then once you realized how crazy you looked you could’ve put your car back in drive and come back in the morning when you were supposed to. you could’ve picked up your daughter the next day and pretended like none of this happened. but you knew yourself better than that, and you knew that reeling from your failed date you came to the old place that used to bring you comfort. 

you turned towards your phone, hoping that something would distract you. but when you opened your phone you saw your lockscreen—your happy little daughter trying to hold a pumpkin the size of her body as you and vernon helped. instead of taking your mind away from the situation you were pulled deeper into it. you remembered how happy you were that day, the vivid memories of talking pictures and experiencing a pumpkin patch with your daughter for the first time. like you were a happy little family again you sat next to vernon with your daughter between the two of you, stealing the occasional glances before pretending like you two were only hanging out for the sake of your daughter.

vernon even found it in himself to have a heart to heart with you. while your daughter went off to play with the other kids he initiated the conversation, talking about how introspective he’s been lately. you watched him with wide eyes as he talked about how you two were too young to have a child, and at an awkward stage in life starting your careers to have a baby in the mix. you nodded your head as he nervously shuffled and looked down at the crackling leaves underneath his feet. you saw his shoulders visibly loosen when you repeated the same sentiment, that you wouldn’t trade your daughter for the world but you often wondered what your lives would be like if you had her later in life. the question hung in the air, you could see vernon contemplate asking you what would’ve happened if you met him later in life. 

you didn’t want to answer his question. the pang in your heart and the urge to reach for his hand made you leave his side all together, running to your daughter on the playground to get away from him.

you still didn’t have the answer as you sat in the drivers seat of your car. all you knew was that you still could vividly see your daughter holding vernons finger tightly in one hand and holding a small pumpkin in the other. 

you knew that your date didn’t stand a chance once he got you started on your little family, and that he didn’t try to hide the knowing look on his face when he saw that your ex was still very much involved in your life. selling the idea that you two were simply co-parenting was alot harder to sell when the three of you occupied your homescreen and lockscreen. he noticed your wandering mind, it was obvious in the way he cleared his throat after you stared at the picture for a little too long. 

trying to comprehend your relationship with vernon was difficult. when you were with him you thought about all the shortcomings in your relationship—the lack of communication, hiding your feelings, keeping things bottled up until they exploded. neither of you were able to save your relationship before it was too late, and it could be argued that you two were better apart. but when you weren’t with him, the only thing you could think about was trying to make it work. you saw pieces of vernon in the man you were seeing, you imagined he was with you in that restaurant. maybe it was the familiarity, maybe you shouldn’t have made the mistake of seeing vernon before going on your date. because the only thing you could think about was him, if he was going on dates in secret and if he was thinking of you too. you thought about your daughter, how much you wished you were with her instead of pretending the fancy food on your plate was good.

you knew the moment you started thinking about your family that the date was already over. when you walked yourself to your car you added another endeavor to your long list of failures, all you could think about as you sat in your car was how you gave up a day you had with your daughter for this. you deleted your message history with the man, staring at your most recent text conversations. vernon sat at the very top, his unread message appearing in the form of a tiny blue dot next to his picture-less icon. determined to keep it casual, even if he was the first thing you would see when you closed out of that app as well. 

you clicked on the message thread, revealing a series of pictures of your daughter and little updates through the night.

vernon: she likes strawberries alot.

vernon: playing zelda and animal crossing on the big tv.

vernon: she’s better than me at zelda now.

vernon: she told me mommy is going on a date?

vernon: i hope it goes well.

vernon: she ate all of her food. gonna lay her down for bed soon

you don’t know why you felt guilty reading the last message. vernon didn’t have the right to know, and you knew that. you had simply told your daughter in passing that you were going on a date night with your friends, knowing that she would repeat whatever you told her to her father. you typed your reply over and over again, trying to figure out what approach to take. 

lol i was going out with some of my friends from wo\

that’s none of your busin\

the date went we\

are you awake?

your mind came up with a million things to say, but none of them felt right. it felt like all of them were attempts at sounding casual. you threw your phone into the passenger seat beside you, and you rolled your neck to try and relieve some of the tension. you let out a sigh and turned your keys in the ignition, letting your car come to life around you.

you pulled out from the parking lot and headed down the road trying to go home. you were positive you were trying to get home, you just took the wrong turn. 

then the wrong light.

then the wrong street.

your mind confused on where to go from the restaurant, you were sure of it. when you had the chance to go back the way you let the thought come and go, and you continued heading down the same road. you took another turn, you even waited at the red light with an unexplainable energy as you tapped the steering wheel. the tension in your neck was gone as you accepted where you were heading.

you knew you didn’t have the right to act confused when you finally turned down vernon’s road.

you let your head rest against the steering wheel when you parked across the street. each time the thought of leaving your car invaded your thoughts, you gently shook your head, feeling the worn leather of the steering wheel cover against the creases in your forehead.

“don’t do it.” you said to yourself.

you looked back at the house again, looking at the window to your daughter’s room. you knew that on the other side of the house you couldn’t see, was the window to the room you used to sleep in. you started thinking about vernon in that big bed by himself, drowning in the california king that was too large even for the two of you. you started thinking about if he thought of you before going to bed everyday, if he thought about you tonight and where you were going in your pretty dress. 

“don’t do it.” you repeated.

saying it a second time was unnecessary. you said it purely for effect, trying to seem like your better senses were trying to put up a fight. but you didn’t even finish your sentence by the time you were taking your keys from the ignition. 

you had already taken your first step out of the car when you repeated the phrase again. you cleared the road quickly, hearing your heels click on the paved road with each step. by the time you made it to the sidewalk you had accepted your fate. you were still weary, slowly making your way across the lawn to the stoop. 

when you made it to the small set of stairs you looked to the door in front of you. the last chance you had to go back in your car before you undid all of your hard work. you knew you were being recorded by the ring camera beside the door. you could simply lie if vernon ever brought it up. you could just say you considered coming to get your daughter before realizing how late it was. vernon most likely wouldn’t believe you, and you would most likely lie some more trying to tell a convincing story. but your gaze went from the ring camera to the potted plant that stood tall beside you. you looked even lower to the painted rocks that circled the bottom. you let the ring camera catch you crouch down to your heels. the same hand that drove you here picked out the discolored rock that felt hollow. 

you held the rock in your hand, feeling the three engraved letters side by side. you held it away from your shadow, letting the moon illuminate the letters. you laughed to yourself for a moment before bringing your other hand to it, feeling for the split in the middle. it was too easy to slide the fake rock open, and to grab the key to the front door out of it.

you stepped through the door, turning the knob so it closed quietly behind you. you took off your heels at the door, hanging your jacket on the coat rack. you felt like an intruder, walking through the house on the balls of your feet trying to be as stealthy as possible. you lurched past your daughters toys in the living room down the hallway to vernon’s room.

“don’t do it.” you said one more time putting your hand on the doorknob.

you pushed open the door to vernon’s room slowly. you cursed at the creaky hinges, only letting it fully open when you saw that vernon’s bed was empty. you looked around the dark room, eyebrows furrowed and confused. when you didn’t see the light from the bathroom you pulled away from the door. you turned around, looking at the pink door of your daughter’s room. you ran your hand over the paint, remembering the day you spent painting it together. she was insistent on putting BOYS NOT ALLOWED on the front until she realized that included her father. it was the same day you painted the rocks outside. memories flooding your mind made you gently push the door open, looking for that home you so desperately wanted, the home that didn’t change even though you left years ago.

when you silently opened the door, you saw your daughter take up a majority of the bed. her stretched limbs forced vernon’s body to balance on the edge. his arm was slung over the side, and he was so close to falling that his hand touched the ground. vernon was on his stomach and your daughter was on her back, both of their snores filled the room. even when the sounds were disturbing the stillness in the air you felt at peace. you felt that sense of belonging, and you felt the pang of missing something so dearly it nearly took your breath away. your own flesh and blood laid next to shared history that was so massive it had it’s own gravitational orbit. 

another revolution and your heart started speeding up. you could stay here for the rest of the night, leaned against the doorframe gushing over the sight in front of you. but vernon was pulling you towards him without even knowing it. you started feeling 

all of your steps towards vernon were careful, walking on the flat part of your foot to not cause the floorboards to creak. the good memories replaced the bad ones as you looked at how blissful they were asleep. you had your eyes trained on your sleeping daughter, making sure she didn’t open her eyes while you crouched close to vernon’s body.

another revolution. his eyelashes casted the tiniest shadow on his face, and he looked so serene in front of you. everything was so familiar, even the things you thought you would’ve forgotten came back to you. he pulled you in even closer. you reached your hand in the space between your chest and vernon’s shoulder with no hesitation. 

you were frozen when you felt your hand rest on his body. looking at vernon and his cheek pressed into the mattress and his mussed black hair. you hadn’t seen him like this in god knows how long. after you called things off, vernon put his stoic resolve back up. he put on a mask for you, a facade of furrowed eyebrows and emotionless stares. you had been deprived of vernon’s softness for so long you almost forgot it existed. now you crouched next to your ex beside the flower lamp on your daughters dresser resisting the urge to run a finger over his soft parted lips or his smooth skin. you almost didn’t want to wake vernon up, afraid that you would once again have the gentleness taken away from you. 

you didn’t know you could miss the view of someone you claimed to hate so much. 

something inside of you wanted vernon to know you saw him like this, unsullied in middle of the night just like when you were together. maybe he would even talk to you in that raspy voice he’d always get in the morning. maybe if you woke him up fast enough you would be able to experience the vernon you loved before his mind fully realized to make him robotic towards you again. so you applied force behind your hand, touching his shoulder completely before you let your hand fully cover the area.

you shook vernon gently at first. his body was limp underneath your hand, moving whichever way you applied force. you looked past vernon to your daughter, who had at some point moved to sleep like you. you drew in a breath, applying more pressure behind your hand trying to rouse him. 

finally he did something, letting out a sigh before shrugging your hand his shoulders.

“go back to sleep baby,” vernon swallowed and turned his head, facing away from you. “we can play zelda in the morning, i promise.” he mumbled.

even if his voice was barely audible, you still clenched your teeth in worry. your daughter was by no means a light sleeper, but all it could take is mentioning one of her favorite things to have her head shoot up in the middle of her sleep. vernon ignored you trying to wake him up again, and you had to lean in close to the back of his head.

“vernon,” you shook him a little harder “it’s me.” you whispered.

as if you yelled straight into his ear, vernon shot up from the bed. you were spooked, almost letting out a sound when he turned to you with wide eyes.

“what are you doing here?” he sounded lost as he looked around your daughters dark room. his eyes were wide as he tried taking in his surroundings. “is something wrong?” he asked.

“no i just.” you looked over vernon’s shoulder to look at your daughter. she was still snoring, but had turned to face her father. if she woke up now she would never go back to sleep. “i need to talk to you.” you whispered.

vernon blinked hard before looking at the flower-shaped clock hanging on the wall behind you. he squinted his eyes trying to make sure he was reading the time right. he rubbed them just to make sure he was really reading it right.

“at two in the morning?” he asked, voice still raspy.

in that moment you realized it was a mistake coming. nothing good as ever happened between you and vernon after midnight. but you also realized it was too late to go back, and a small voice in your brain already convinced you that you weren’t sleeping in your own bed tonight. so you nodded your head again as vernon carefully moved off the bed to not wake your daughter. 

vernon motioned for you to walk towards his room but he still led the way. he didn’t care to walk on his tiptoes or avoid the creaky parts of the floor as he rubbed his face. 

you looked back to your daughter once more before closing the door behind you. she moved to the center of the bed, taking up the little amount of space vernon was occupying. you slowly pulled the door closed until you heard it click behind you. when you turned back into the hallway you saw vernon past the opening in his door, looking at you through the space. he was no longer tired and he didn’t have his eyes squinted in confusion anymore. he held eye contact with you from his room, still as he watched your every movement. the living room was the neutral area between the two of you, the common meeting space. you didn’t know the last time you had seen vernon in his bedroom, or when you were extended the silent invitation to come in. 

the implications made your bare feet timid in the hallway, lingering behind each creak on the floorboards. you looked briefly down the hallway to the front door. the last bit of pride you had was on the other side. you knew vernon, if you left now he’d never mention this again. you coming to his house in the middle of the night would just be another story of something more you two ignored to avoid feelings. he walked towards you, and you took another step. his gravitational pull made you clear the hallway and the threshold of his room.

as if you had never been in the room before, you waited by the doorframe as vernon closed the door shut beside you. he gave you a second to collect your thoughts, leaning against the closed door as he looked down at you. you tried matching his calm, leaning against the wall until the light switch poked your back. when vernon crossed his arms you breathed in deeply.

“what are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

you didn’t have an answer. all you could do was cross your arms against your chest and avoid his gaze.

“i don’t know.” you answered just as quiet.

you could hear vernon let out a dry laugh from beside you. even in the darkness of his room you could make out the framed photo of you two that sat at his work desk. he followed your gaze and cleared his throat when he saw what you were looking at.

“did you enjoy your date?” vernon asked.

“that’s none of your business.” you quipped.

vernon pushed off of the door, and your eyes followed his back as he walked towards his bed.

“i’ll take that as a no.” he said quietly.

when he turned around to face you, you shrugged your shoulders.

“i’m seeing him again.” you lied.

the smug look on vernon’s face didn’t fade away as he crossed his arms to match you. you saw him lean against your former side the bed, head tilted as he caught onto your lie.

“oh i’m sure.” he said.

you felt the familiar rage blossom in your chest. suddenly you felt regret, reaching beside you for the doorknob.

“this was a mistake.” you seethe.

vernon is quick to move in front of you. you can’t even turn the doorknob completely before he clears the space, coming so close to you that you can smell him. he gets even closer and you’re forced to look up at him.

vernon moves his hand to clasp over yours on the doorknob. the warmth coaxes you to let go of the, and he brings his other hand to hold yours. you can already feel the heat across your cheeks, and you can see the blush dust across vernon’s face the longer he looks down at you.

you don’t know why he humors you even though you’re no longer together. you don’t know why you feel so shy like it’s the first time you two have ever been intimate. you don’t know why he takes his time teasing you, to let the tension build to the ceiling. you came to him in the middle of the night in a tight short dress after a failed date. he could’ve taken you in the hallway or bent over the couch in the living room. god knows you deserved it. but he was flirting with you, bringing his hand to brush underneath your chin to keep your head tilted up at him.

“you look so pretty tonight.” he said.

even though the words rolled off his tongue awkwardly from not being in this situation for so long, your mouth still goes dry. your hands reach across to grab onto the bottom of his white shirt. he smiles down at you and you hold the fabric a little tighter.

“you really don’t know why you’re here?” vernon asked again.

you silently shook your head, hoping he’d show you why. he looked at your lips before going back to your eyes. your hands went to his waist, desperate to hold onto something solid as he pressed his leg between yours. 

the movement made your dress ride up. you spread your legs even wider. the thought of him taking you right here flooded your mind. as if you didn’t know the person you used to claim as the love of your life you thought he was going to only give you relief in the form of his clothed thigh. as if he didn’t buy you this dress you thought he’d be careless with it, telling you to leave it on as you rutted your hips desperately on his leg. torturing you would’ve been better. removing emotions from this situation would’ve been better, if this just became a desperate fuck then you could just chalk it all up to being horny after a failed date. 

but vernon started caressing your face before he moved his hands gently behind you to pull down the zipper of your dress. he still remembered that he had to hold the fabric straight to get the zipper to work, and he pulled it down in one smooth motion. 

you got up from the wall to aid him, and you didn’t protest when the dress became loose on your skin. you only continued to look up at vernon, feeling your eyes become glassy as the fabric pooled to your feet.

“you still don’t know?” he asked quietly. 

vernon brought his fingers to run over the trim of your bra, letting out a sigh when you tilted your head back in approval. you didn’t have to answer vernon for him to know your response. he didn’t even have it in him to laugh. something was serious as he bent down to graze his lips on the ball of your shoulder. 

when vernon moved to your neck you brought your hands to his shoulder. you kept him there, letting your legs bend slightly to rest some of your weight on his leg. he was strong underneath you, the flexing muscle in his thigh made you want to grind against him. before you could move your hips, vernon worked his kisses up to your ear then completely pulled away.

“let’s go to the bed.” he said.

you complied immediately, making your way to your old side of the bed as vernon walked around to his. 

both of your stood next to the bed, staring at the other. you waited for his instruction, but vernon stared at you waiting for your next move. the authority made you swallow your nerves, and you reached behind you to undo the clasp on your bra. vernon watched you fully clothed on the other side, completely still as you moved to your underwear. vernon watched you push your underwear past your knees and lower, until you could step out of them. 

as you brought your arms to cross against your chest, vernon let you watch as he pulled his shirt over his head. you looked at his toned stomach, how he ran his hand down his body before getting to the waistband of his sweats. you moved from foot to foot, trying to not make it obvious how much of a mess you were already becoming. getting undressed slowly made it feel like the first time again, both of you trying to remember what your bodies looked like now. you no longer felt like the young adult you were when you first met him as vernon pulled down his sweats to reveal his white briefs. as he reached for the waistband he motioned to the bed, silently telling you to get on first.

you pressed your hands into the foam and crawled to vernon’s side. you sat back on your legs, perched and ready to listen. vernon grabbed your hand that was balled up at your sides, kissing your palm after spreading out your fingers. you wanted to press your hand into his toned stomach and travel down until you could squeeze him over the fabric of his underwear, but you let vernon kiss every single one of your knuckles as he kept burning eye contact with you. when he let your hand fall back to the bed he reached into the top drawer of the night stand. when your mind caught on you shifted on your knees.

“i’m not seeing anyone.” you said quickly.

“what about your date?” vernon asked.

you shook your head, hoping that vernon wouldn’t make you say it out loud. the smug smile that blossomed across his face was enough of a response. he moves towards the bed and you make space for him, scooting over until you’re in the middle of the bed.

“so no condom?” he asked.

vernon eyed you carefully as he put the foil packet back down on the bedside table. the option was staring at you both. he watched you shrug your shoulders and look away, focusing on fluffing his pillows. he sat back on his haunches the same time you went to lay on your side. 

vernon watched you in silence as you started getting comfortable. too much time has passed since he’s seen you like this, naked and getting ready for him. seeing the line of your body settle on his sheets makes vernon want to tell you how much he changed. how he’s not the same twenty-year old who broke your heart by hiding his feelings. he wants to tell you that he’s a responsible adult now, and that his therapist tells him every session he’s making real progress. 

when you settle onto the mattress you turn to face him. vernon notices how you fail to hold eye contact with him longer than a second before turning away. your hand that was rubbing up and down your body goes to fraying thread on the sheets, and your eyes dart away to focus on the wall behind vernon.

“hurry before i change my mind.” you were anything but convincing. your words had no bite as you patiently waited for vernon to fall into his place beside you. “you should be thanking me. god knows when’s the last time you had sex.” you said.

even if you tried to seem threatening, vernon saw your body seize in anticipation when he shifted on the bed. he took his time, going to his back first to fully take off his underwear. he enjoyed seeing you trying to take quick peaks over your shoulder to look at his bare body and hearing your nails scratch the sheets to try and collect yourself. 

vernon put his hand on the side of your knee when he shifted his body again. he ran his hands up slowly, his touch light as a feather to try and make goosebumps erupt across your skin. he scooted his body closer to yours, his arm that was between his body and the mattress fell into place underneath your neck. 

the two of you went into your old routine, muscle memory of your past together in bed guided your movements. you both told yourselves your bodies were acting on their own accord. that was the excuse echoing around in both of your heads as you scooted your body back to meet vernon’s and why he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder blade. you gasped from the feeling, and suddenly the familiarity between you two filled the room. the closeness of your bodies was nearly blinding, you put your hand over vernon’s that had found it’s place on your ass. 

vernon foolishly thought that this position would protect him, that not being able to see your face would help him have emotionless sex with you. but feeling your fingers seamlessly intertwine with his made his heart pound against your back. each time he tried to slightly pull back you only followed him, chasing after the warmth of him against you. 

he thought fast to distract you from his heart thudding in its cage before you could point it out. he reluctantly separated his hand from yours to lift your leg, making it come over his. the change made you lean forward to put your hand on the mattress to stabilize yourself. vernon leaned forward, and bringing his arm that was under your neck to hold your chest to bring you close.

“the last time i had sex?” when your leg was locked over vernon’s he made quick work of you. ignoring everything else he used his free hand to reach between your legs. before he could even make contact, you preened your ass backwards, making a sound of embarrassment at how wet you were. “it was when i came over to put our daughter’s dollhouse together, remember?” he whispered.

vernon let the memories flood over you as both of your bodies shivered. it was months ago, you needed help putting together the dollhouse you got your baby for christmas. you were ever much of the handyman, and vernon wanted an excuse to come over to your new place. so while she was at daycare vernon was invited over, and just like now one thing led to another until you were on top of him. 

he remembers trying to kiss your knees that were bruised from being pressed to the ground and you told him to go away. he also remembers after the fact you used the excuse that you were lonely due to the holiday season. but now it was summer and you were moaning for him like you always used to. when vernon pressed his lips to the side of your face you didn’t tell him to go away, you only turned your head to give him better access.

“you said you hated me then.” vernon said.

vernon pushed two fingers into your heat and a satisfied smile spread across his face when your lips parted. he sees you nod your head, trying to form a coherent sentence.

“i do.” you respond.

you can barely get through your sentence without your voice pitching upwards. vernon feels you attempt to push your hips back to meet hie fingers. 

“you still hate me?” vernon slips in a third finger to try and change your mind. “after all this time?” he asks.

“i do.” you say, shaking your head.

vernon takes your mixed signals as a sign he’s doing something right. maybe by the third time you come to him like this he will get you to say no, maybe even have you initiate the kissing first. he uses it as motivation to keep pumping his fingers into your heat, and bringing you closer by the hand that’s on your chest. 

when you try wedging your hand between your bodies to find vernon’s dick, he moves out of the way. he shakes his head in the crook of your neck. he imagines the look of frustration on your face, the one that’s seared into the back of his eyelids as he lifts your leg further. you fall forward once again from the new angle and vernon lets you. 

“fuck me please, vernon.” you whine into the sheets. 

you use the rest of your strength to push your body back to its side and you moved vernon’s hand down to your chest. he can feel your heart jumping in its cage as you continue whining for him. his chest swells when he feels your desperate hand reach down again to grab his dick. he lets you and looks down to guide his dick to your hand. 

when you hold him it’s his turn to whine. he forgot what it was like to be touched by you that he has half a mind to ask you to just jerk him off. he wants to see if you’ll. get that same desperate look in your eye as your hand speeds up. maybe he’ll turn you around, just so he can see your eyes blow out with lust as he finishes all over your fist. but just like always does he keeps his thoughts to himself and lets you decide what you want. when you pull his fingers out of your hole he leans forward, letting his hard dick press against your ass.

both of you are so desperate your movements become rushed. vernon ruts his dick into your ass from the haste, and you clench your hand around his tip. you have to take a second to regain your composure before you pump his dick again. he thinks you’re doing it just to hear him sigh contently and feel him impatiently rut into your hand. you continue to do it, letting the slick sounds of his precum between your hands fill the room until his sighs turn to quiet whines. 

“turn around.” vernon kisses your shoulder, pressing his lips into your skin to muffle his words “look at me.” he begs.

you ignore him, even though you both know you can hear him. you both know that the spooning position you’re in currently is too intimate for people who claim to hate eachother. you both know that eye contact is dangerous, that it would only bring back feelings you both put so much energy into denying. so vernon lets you ignore him and plays off his pleads by lightly biting your skin. you moan from the pain that lights your body like a fire, and vernon puts his hand over yours to guide his dick the rest of the way.

“ready?” vernon asks.

vernon says it just as quiet as his previous plead. when you nod and whimper out a yes he feels his heart drop. he knows it was an act of self preservation, but he wished to see your face. he had to settle for his imagination and your sounds when he pushed his tip past your entrance, pushing every inch inside you you until his hips kissed yours. you sucked him in and kept his dick in place, fitting around him like a glove. there was no better feeling in the world, nothing tasted better than the salt from your skin that stayed on vernon’s lips. he put his hand on your ass to spread you out enough to draw his hips back. he heard you fist the sheets and he felt you grab his hand on your chest to steady yourself. he slid back in just as slow, cursing each time your walls seized around him. 

it had been too long. vernon was actively abandoning all of his instincts feeling you around him. he felt himself caring less and less about not wearing a condom the closer he got.

“i’m gonna cum if you keep clenching around me like that” he grunted into your shoulder.

vernon moved his hand on your ass to press his hand deep into your lower stomach, causing you to push your hips further back. he swore he could feel himself inside of your stomach, and the sound that ripped from your throat made him believe you felt it too. the new angle let vernon push his hips further into you. you could no longer hold your head upright as you let it fall into the pillows to muffle your sounds. even now you held back, trying to keep some shred of your dignity.

vernon lifted his head to try and look down at you. he could see your eyes closed from the pleasure, and the thin layer of sweat that glistened across your face. the tiny beads and your supple skin caught in the moonlight. 

vernon bent down to kiss your cheek, trying to entice you to turn your head again. for the second time, he could tell you were ignoring him. he forgot what you were trying to protect yourself from as he felt your walls seize around him again. it was getting sporadic, and your breaths were turning into quick huffs. when your hand tightened over his vernon used his leg to raise yours even more. his hand on your stomach found your clit quickly, rubbing circles that complimented his thrusting. you finally turned your head from the mattress, you even turned a little further to look vernon in the eyes.

“i’m so close, sol.” you whispered.

vernon saw you close your eyes and catch your bottom lip between your teeth, another telltale sign of you trying to focus. you dragged his hand that gripped your chest to your neck. you looked down at you trying so desperately to take the tenderness from this moment. if vernon squeezed his hand around your neck like you wanted, it would be easy for you both to claim this was simply just a horny mistake, a borderline hate-fuck. he made that mistake the first time, hand around your neck as he told you how much he hated you. he looked into your eyes when he said it, trying to revel in the way your eyes flashed in pain between the moments of bliss. he didn’t mean it then but he definitely didn’t mean it now—like he said before he has changed. 

so instead of pressing his fingers into the veins on the side of your neck he traveled up to your chin, turning your head so you were forced to look at him. you were shocked, eyes so wide and your face so close to his vernon could see himself in the reflection of your pupils. he placed a kiss right on your lips, not pulling back until he felt your lips move against his. he sees himself in your eyes again, and he sees his spit glistening on your lips. he feels himself inside of you, and he feels your warmth cover his entire being.

“i think i was made for you.” 

vernon meant to say it quietly just for himself as a silent realization, but the way you nod makes him believe it to be true. vernon feels you get your strength back as you push your hips backwards to meet his hard and deep thrusts.

“you still are.” you moaned.

he tells himself that you are just talking to fill the void of silence. vernon also tells himself that you can’t bring yourself to ignore him for the third time this night when you’re looking him right in eyes. regardless, vernon can also feel himself getting closer as you clench repeatedly around his twitching dick.

“oh my god.” you moan.

vernon pulls your body closer when he feels you shudder against him. you start driving your hips back without rhythm, trying anything you can to keep the stimulation going. vernon still looks down at you as you cum, and he smiles at the irony of you trying so hard to keep eye contact. you give into closing your eyes when he slips a finger into your mouth, and he can feel the vibration of your moans around his digit. 

when you start getting weaker, and settling into vernon’s hold he pulls his hand from your clit to pull out. when you open your eyes again they’re glassy. they’re no longer half lidded as you grab vernon’s wrist, stopping him from pulling out.

both of you look down at your hand. you look almost as shocked as vernon, like something came over you to stop him from pulling out. vernon takes it in stride, pushing back into you with a force that has you moaning around his finger. you turns your head even further to face him. he kisses the apple of your cheek and then your lips, smiling against your pout.

“you want another baby?” vernon moved down from your cheek to your jaw. “you really wouldn’t be able to get rid of me then.” he whispered once he made it to your ear.

before you could say anything back, vernon latched onto the skin right below your ear, sucking and pressing his teeth in the area below your jaw. the stimulation made your lower half sink further down onto the mattress, until you were relying fully on vernon’s strength to keep your body up. memories flood back to vernon, but the way he still remembers how you sound and respond to everything makes him think he never forgot in the first place. both of your bodies move simultaneously, when he pulls away from your neck you tilt your head to give him access to the other side. you preen your neck towards him, whimpering quietly when he lingers above the spot.

“oh my god.” you start shaking and vernon feels your nails dig into his skin. “too much.” you whimper.

vernon turns your head back around to press let his face rest against yours. you still suck around his fingers, and he can feel you turn your head to kiss whatever parts of his face you can reach. you still clamp around him, your cum adds to the lewd sounds that fill the room.

“can i cum inside?” vernon asks.

vernon closes his eyes and focuses on everything about you. he hold back until he feels your head nod against his.

“please.” you bring your hand behind you to run through his hair. “i miss you so much” you whimper around his fingers.

“i miss you more.” vernon whispers.

he doesn’t hold back anymore as he empties into you. he turns to the crook of your neck, sucking harshly at your skin to relieve even more of the tension. when his hips still you take the lead, plating your hand onto the mattress to give your hips more stability. vernon grips your ass, kneading the flesh desperately to try and ground himself. he pulls away from your skin to whimper into your ear. 

you two can no longer speak, only communicating through the hushed sounds of euphoria. vernon brings both of his hands to wrap around you, bringing your body as close to his as possible. you can no longer push your hips back from the new angle and that’s exactly what vernon wants. he forces you both to stay still, to feel all of it—the way his dick pulses inside of you as he cums deep inside of you. even when vernon gives you all he has, you both stay in that position. you both settle deeper into the bed, catching your breath as your skin doesn’t break contact. 

neither of you want to be the first to speak or to force the other one to come back to reality. so you two remain silent as vernon pulls out. you don’t say a word when vernon turns your body around to face him, or when he pulls the covers over your sweaty bodies. he returns the favor by saying nothing when your nestle into his chest and you guide his arm to wrap around your body. 

if you liked this story and would like to support me further here is my ko-fi :)

[pressplay-if]

Please please please I'm begging on my knees Lincoln nsfw alphabet 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Now by popular demand, the makers of "Angel alphabet" bring you

The Lincoln alphabet

A = Aftercare Lincoln keeps a cool, wet towel by the bedside in case the MC is overheated. Also, they'll bring MC something to drink, clean them up and rub their shoulders if needed. Note how I wrote "MC" instead of "their partner"? That is significant.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Lincoln likes their own blue eyes, and their facial structure. They are overall very confident, although they sometimes wish they were a bit taller. Only sometimes. Lincoln LOVES the MC's vocal chords, they want to cut them out and keep them... kidding, of course. But really, vocal chords should count, right?

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Cum is... cum. Lincoln has no strong feelings about it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) A) They have a voice kink. B) Being humiliated by MC is a big turn-on for them. They want to crawl on all fours, sleep on the floor next to MC's bed, be forbidden from speaking, that kind of thing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Lincoln has a lot of experience, but with few people. They have had two semi-serious relationships by the time MC meets them, and they pick the people they hook up with very carefully. Lincoln is very good at what they're doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Lincoln likes being on their knees for the MC. In any way whatsoever.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Very serious. Lincoln lives for whatever intimacy happens between them and the MC. There's nothing more important than MC, especially in that moment.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Lincoln is smooth like a dolphin. Male Lincoln, too. Wax. Wax all the way.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Devout. Zealous.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Lincoln has touched themself to the MC's songs SO many times... A picture alone doesn't do it, though. They need to hear their voice.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Hoooo boy. Okay. Voice kink, degradation kink, power play, bondage, body worship, begging, overstimulation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere MC wants. But, gun to their head, Lincoln would have to say their own bedroom. They have everything they could ever need or want in there, endless possibilities, unlimited time...

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Well, given they're obsessed with the MC, the motivation is... there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) They are very submissive towards MC and will be turned off by MC wanting to be humiliated by them. They can play the dominant one for a while if that's what MC wants but they refuse to degrade them in any way.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) They're really good at it, prefer giving but will absolutely not say no to receiving it either.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Whatever MC wants.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) If MC wants to, absolutely yes. In fact, it would turn them on to be "used" for a quick stress relief.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) hahahahahaahahaaaaa

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Lasts very long but will be ashamed if they come prematurely. Need a little breather before they can go again after.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) They have all sorts of stuff. Big range, lots to choose from. And they're sorted by solo or to be used on a partner. Also by color. Lincoln is neat.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Not at all. They are there to provide.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) They are as loud or as silent as MC permits them to be. They get louder the more overstimulated they get.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) They would really like to take an intimate, vulnerable picture of the MC sometime. Not a naked picture. But like, a picture of MC's face right after orgasm, or while they're sleeping. Only if the MC is ok with it, tho.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Lincoln has nooooo problems showing off their body. If you've picked a female Lincoln, you might remember her party outfit. Yeah. Lincoln likes being naked, they have full confidence that they look good. They're lithe, lean, but strong. Also, they have that lovely tan...

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Outside of a relationship, it's pretty nonexistent. They pick and choose their flings very carefully. But with the MC, it's at 100, pretty much always.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) THEY WILL NOT REST.

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 12

Part 11

@spectrum-spectre before you say anything, there's no smut in this one so go to sleep and read it at a more reasonable hour

In Eddie's fantasy world, he took off in a plane with Steve, escorted him back to Indiana, dropped him off at the door of the home he'd be staying at, giving him a very thorough scenting before letting him go.

But Eddie had work to take care of and Steve said he would be fine. And Eddie had gotten the hang of figuring out when Steve meant what he said. It wasn't hard. Whenever he wanted to be spoiled, he put that bratty lilt to his voice. They parted ways, Eddie having rubbed himself all over Steve before they exited the car, then again before getting to the check out counter.

Eddie was avoiding notice by wearing his hair in a braided bun and big sunglasses. He insisted on getting Steve a first class ticket. It was the only way to keep too many people from rubbing against him and thus making his scent fade sooner.

"Don't miss me too much", Eddie teased, looking over the rim of his shades.

Steve wrapped his arms around his neck. "I already do, Daddy", he whispered. He kissed him and then murmured against his lips. "Can't stop thinking about it. In less than ten days..."

Eddie put his hands to Steve's waist. He couldn't wait either. They'd be reuniting for Steve's heat. But they weren't coming back together just for that. While Steve was pretty regular and was 99% it would come when he said it did, Eddie would have Steve on the first jet to Texas on January 1st.

Steve thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of first class and landed back home with less than half the stress of a normal plane flight. Eddie had been a little zealous in spending on him sometimes, and it reflected in how much money he sent to Steve so that he could get a ride at the airport. Steve had specifically told him that Lucas could have picked him up and then he'd be with family for the rest of the time.

Eddie must've heard something different because when Steve checked his venmo, he was several hundred dollars richer. When Lucas picked him up, he decided that money could be well spent doing some last minute shopping.

"You know, I'm actually kind of relieved", Lucas said as they packed the last of the stuff into his trunk.

"Why?", Steve asked.

"I thought when you started being a sugar baby and junk you'd turn into a different person. But you're still Steve."

Steve smiled. "Didn't go through a name change last I checked."

"You know what I mean. You were still cursing out the ref at the game back in DC. And you got Robin a mug with a weird picture, not like a diamond encrusted dog bowl or something."

"She's gonna love the mug more than that. And the ref had his blinders on for the whole first half."

Steve didn't realize how relieved he was to hear that though, that he had retained the real parts of himself even though he felt completely changed by Eddie. Would he start to change in time? How long would it take? His reverie was broken when Lucas pulled into the driveway of his home.

"Okay, so Dustin told my parents you were seeing someone and Mike told them it was someone famous but they don't know it's Eddie Munson."

Steve felt his stomach drop. "Do they know that I'm?"

Lucas shook his head. "You get to tell them that."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me", Steve groaned.

The last thing he wanted to tell the people who helped him through the final years of high school and the first couple of college was that he was getting dicked down by a celebrity and was falling for him too. The Sinclairs were more like his parents than his actual mom and dad.

They didn't hold back either, bringing it up the moment he entered and they got their hugs.

"Dustin told us you're seeing someone?", Mrs. Sinclair said.

Steve snuck an ear twist as Dustin walked by with a grin, one that the Sinclairs definitely noticed but let him get away with. He had to be honest not just because of how important they were, but because they'd find out everything sooner or later. New traveled fast online and he was honestly surprised they didn't know more already.

"I met him one night at a bar. He covered my dinner when I was a little short", Steve said as his hands were kept busy helping with the food preparation.

"Sounds like a gentleman", Mr. Sinclair said.

Lucas and his friends were sitting in the living room, which Steve was thankful for. He knew they'd want to spill every last bean. He got away with giving them minimal info: Eddie's first name, the fact he was a musician, an alpha, and that they'd been on a few dates.

That night, he cornered Dustin and Mike and made them swear to keep their mouths shut about anything else.

"Lucas got basketball tickets. We should get something to", Mike said.

"How's about you don't get a tanned hide?", Steve offered, eyes hard.

Christmas went as usual, Steve spent the day of and day after in the Sinclair home, then returned to his own apartment where Robin was already waiting to celebrate New Years. He didn't get two feet into the door before she was feeling his stomach.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not-"

"But you could be. I know you and your cumslut tendencies. So I know you're not making him wrap it up."

"But I'm still taking my birth control", Steve said.

"You just know that if you get knocked up I'll have no choice but to move back in with you and help you raise this pup", Robin said.

"There is no pup. And I wouldn't make you do that."

"I would though. For you", she promised.

"I know Robs. That's why I'm not gonna let it happen. If I wanna have his baby, you'll get a six month notice before we conceive."

"Thank you for that."

They spent December 31st ordering take out from three different places and binging Empire. When it got to the time for real festivities to begin, they turned the tv to where Eddie said he was going to be performing.

"So that's your beau. He's not bad", Robin complimented. "How's the rest of the band?"

"They're great. I think you and Jeff would really get along. He's actually really into brass instruments too. And Gareth knows a bunch of nerd languages."

"You mean like Klingon and Elvish?"

"And apparently he's learning Atlantean."

Midnight came and Steve kissed her forehead and Robin kissed his cheek.

--------------------

The next day, he was packed and ready to hop on his flight. Robin dropped him off and hugged him tight enough to hold him over until the next time they met. His ticket was first class again and when he landed in Austin, he was already feeling a tingling under his skin. He missed his alpha. Need his scent, his touch, the rumble of his voice.

Because of this, while he loved the other CC boys, he was a little disappointed to see them awaiting his arrival and not Eddie.

"The Ed-man had to finish something in the studio last minute", Gareth explained as they led Steve to the car.

"Thanks for picking me up, guys", Steve certainly preferred them over a stranger from Uber.

Grant drove the way back, taking them to a mansion that had Steve's jaw dropping. He was no stranger to big houses, but he was used to them being simply for status. They'd been grand but sterile, devoid of any personality. The moment Steve stepped in, he could see that wasn't true for this place. He could pick out each of the resident's scents, could see each of their quirks as he was given a tour of the place.

They saved Eddie's room for last and he found out when Eddie barreled down the hallway to meet them at his door.

"They're really good pack", Steve said as Jeff, Grant, and Gareth left the two of them alone.

"I knew I could trust them with you." Then Eddie kissed him about six times. "For all the missed mistletoe." Then again. "For New Year's."

Steve laughed against his lips. "You gonna show me the bedroom anytime soon? I'd love to lie down, Daddy."

Eddie bit his lip, looking nervous all of a sudden as he slowly opened the door. Steve wanted to take in everything. After all, a bedroom could tell you a lot about a person. But his attention was immediately grabbed by the bed situation and what was sitting on the bench in front of it. There was a thin quilt turning it into a canopy bed, much like the den Eddie had made in their hotel room back in New York.

Steve recognized the pattern from what he'd heard before. Jeff's handiwork. And by the foot of the bed was a small bench where a collection of clothes sat. Steve went right to them and took a whiff of the first shirt. It was so undeniably Eddie, he would have thought his neck was pressed to his nose were he not still by the door.

Then he picked up a tank top and caught notes of lemon and ginger. "Are these...?"

"I tried to scent a lot of stuff before you got here, the boys helped out too. I hope that was okay?" His hands were stuck in his pockets and his back was tensed like he might run.

"It's more than okay", Steve reassured him.

"And the den? You like it? I can always change it if you don't. We've got tons of linens here, all that can be scented in a moment's notice and-"

"Eddie", Steve put a hand to his arm. "It's great. Now...", he held up one of the garments. "Help me nest?"

Eddie swallowed and nodded. He followed Steve's lead as they arranged everything on the bed for maximum comfort. Once Steve was satisfied, he sank down into it, smirking when he saw the way Eddie gingerly lied down next to him.

"Your first time doing a heat?", Steve asked.

"I've been around omegas in heat before. Just not as the uh, let's say star alpha", Eddie admitted.

Steve turned so his back was against Eddie's chest and pulled his arm over him. It took Eddie a moment, but he got comfortable and melted against his body. The exhaustion from the flight and being up for hours finally got to him and Steve closed his eyes.

When he opened them hours later, his body was warm and he felt a wetness between his legs.

Part 13

Tag Team CLOSED

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie  @sllooney  @starman-jpg  @oxidantdreamboat  @xxbottlecapx   @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast  @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds  @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord  @beckkthewreck  @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx @lilpomelito @goosesister @libraryofgage @aresthelostboy @royjaimie4eva @silenzioperso @she-collects-smut @lost-wondering-souls @eddielives1986 @marklee-blackmore

[elioslover]

Run-Ins- Harry Styles x reader

Premise: Harry decides to challenge a heatwave, If it weren't for a surprise run-in with an over-zealous puppy and its disgruntled owner, things would have been much worse.

Warnings: Sexy, sexc sweaty Harry. Gender neutral!

Word count: 3.2k || Other Writing

☀️

Skin sticking to shirts, the breeze carrying summer in full swing. It hadn't even reached ten am, and the weather was already swelting, only increasing by the minute. Harry had already tried to beat the heat, changing what was supposed to be an early afternoon run to one he was currently stepping out the front door to attend.

The rays of the sun had followed him since waking up, shining on him throughout the act of making coffee, blinding him from sitting on the porch and checking his phone for emails and notifications.

Harry didn't have a strict schedule for the day; the only thing he wanted to complete with certainty was his daily run. It was criminal enough that he had missed out on two opportunities last week and with the promise of a pure, stress-free fifty minutes, something that becomes increasingly sacred as more and more responsibility is piled onto his plate.

Without this one piece of his habit, he had zero routines to fall back on, and he felt stir-crazy at just the idea of sitting out his run for the sake of avoiding possible heatstroke.

Besides, the weather was still reasonable; he would just have to dress lighter and take extra care remembering to carry a bottle of water in case. Showering could wait until later- after all, he was unlikely to see or be seen by anybody.

So, with that, Harry rushed through his breakfast of a fruit salad, laced up his trusty sneakers, and grabbed a water bottle on his way out of the front door. He hadn't even taken a full step out into the summer sun when his skin was greeted with the feeling of opening an oven, steam sending a rush of heat straight to his face.

Without thinking, he walked back inside with determination, sifting through his suitcase for a pair of shorts even tinier and cooler than the ones he currently wore; his thighs were thankful, and so was his head once he threw an aged navy baseball cap on. 

He was ready now, certain this run wouldn't get the best of him. His day would be tainted, and that was embarrassing enough for him to admit, so when he stepped out into the heat once more, he tried his best to ignore the way his temperature began increasing like a reptile, instead focusing on the route he was going to take.

The usual park he had frequented recently was quiet for the most part- trimmed neon green grass stretching as far as the eye could see, and on a few occasions when Harry had forgotten his earphones, the singing birds were a welcomed replacement- something he found himself humming along to. 

But, his favourite part of this park was the little stream that started from the walkway and looped all the way to the end and back. If he was lucky, he might run past a duck with her gaggle of ducklings or pass by a couple having a cute picnic.

Five minutes into the run, Harry hasn't seen anything or anyone; he thinks he actually got lucky by choosing to run earlier than usual. This is as quiet as he has ever seen it, and with the wind on his back only blowing hot air around, he rids himself of the only item left holding him back. His flimsy black tee is off and strung lazily over his shoulder. His hands are empty, hat shielding a sunburn... why are his hands empty?

Harry suddenly pictures the forgotten bottle of water, sitting patiently on his side table, discarded when he had hastily decided to switch his shorts. The mere thought of water has him thirsty, and he looks forward to finishing this run more than usual.

Pushing his way up the incline of the dirt pathway, he promises himself a rewarding break once reaching the peak. But, with each step, his skin glistens sweat, heart thudding harder in his head, and he's slowing down for sure, forcing his muscles forward, ignoring the resistance created by the hill- certain he would be fine, just a little tired. Besides, it was good to be challenged- he needed to switch things up now and then.

Every muscle is asking him to stop, but he mistakes this for motivation and only presses on, relieved when the pathway shows an end in sight. Exerting the last he has to give, Harry looks down at his shoes, focused on putting one step in front of the other. His fists balled, arms flexed and pressed against his torso; Harry gives one final push before reaching the summit. 

And when he does, it's a lot harder to catch his breath than expected; every part of him feels like it's beginning to float away, and his ears are ringing with desperation to gasp for air.

He tries to steady himself, folding over, his hands resting atop his hips- skin warm to the touch- bending forward in an attempt to better open his airways, but the need to sit down is only encouraged, and Harry has to concede.

He finds himself sitting now, his legs stretched out before him, wrapping his arms like a chain atop his bent knees, and with a bowed head, he works to regain breath control. The wind wisps through the long blades of glass, whistling in tune to the songs of little birds, and the stream is strong; he wishes he had the strength to make his way over, at least dip his feet in the cool water.

The sounds all blend into one sweet symphony, so relaxing that Harry almost feels himself starting to relax. But his tongue is like sandpaper sticking to his palate; with each suck-in, his body begs for water.

The only thing that could distract him- and does- is the sudden feeling of something rustling against his side, trying to make its way into the gap between his arms and lap. It has a wet nose and makes familiar snuffling noises that can only be attributed to that of a puppy dog.

Lazily lifting and tilting his head to see better, Harry is greeted by the enthusiasm and curiosity of a very cute and very excitable golden retriever- wearing a pretty pink bandana, big brown eyes smiling up at Harry as if he were heaven itself.

Turning all of his attention to the pup- who is trying desperately to climb up onto him- giving it a rough and thorough ear scratch. 

"You're a friendly one, aren't you?" Harry chuckles, opening himself up to be further fussed over by his new friend.

"What's your name, huh?" Harry shifts and lets the dog continue sniffing him, reaching over to get ahold of its collar- a sparkly little disk covered in silver gems holds both a phone number and the name 'Beans'.

"Beans... Well, it's very nice to meet you, Beans." He smiles even wider as the pup reacts to its name, tail wagging, hopping all over him in the hopes of somehow getting even closer.

"Beans!” A voice called in the distance, quickly swept away by the breeze. Harry looked around, unable to spot anyone nearby, turning back to the pup currently occupied with trying to remove his baseball cap clean off of his head. He chuckled and scanned the area again, “I think someone’s looking for you, bud.”

“Beans!” The same voice sang, carrying over the hill straight to Harry’s heart. This time, Beans stops chewing and looks off in the direction of the searching song, and Harry follows suit, gaze settling just as the silhouette of someone starts to get closer. A harsh ray of sun forbids him from getting a good look at the person who is seemingly searching for his new companion.

“Is that your owner, Beans?” Harry asks, patting the pup with his free hand- the other working hard at helping shield the sun from blinding him further.

Beans' excitement only increases, tail wagging in all directions, eyes darting between Harry and the mystery person- still uncertain of whether to make a run for it or stay put. But, as the owner gets closer, amping up to call out for the cheeky dog once more, Harry is spotted sitting side-by-side with your dog.

And at the mere sight of you exiting the rays of sunshine, Beans is a jumble of jumping and excited barking. You release a relieved sigh, one you hadn’t known was trapped in your lungs, hyper-focused on the fact that you had lost control over your pup again. In fairness, what were you supposed to do? You had trusted her to stay, for just a second, whilst you fiddled with her matching collar and leash, but the promise of chasing an unsuspecting bird was just far too much for Beans to ignore.

You weren’t nearly fast enough to catch up to her- the whole point of walking with Beans was the promise of building better stamina, on your part- and once she was far enough ahead, you weren’t even sure which direction she had gone.

With dread, you followed your instincts up the hill, hoping she would have tired herself out by this point- she had done a splendid job of ensuring you were. What you hadn’t expected, hoped for, or even considered, was that someone might beat you to it. Seeing your naive little dog practically in the arms of some stranger was more than your nerves could handle today.

Legs starting to ache, you make your way over to the pair, thinking up some sort of jumbled-up apology for both your dog and the mere existence of yourself. But the man is smiling up at you- such a very pretty smile- and you almost lose all sensibility, startled as Beans hops up with vigour, bounding over and almost tripping you.

Harry starts to rise; the dull throbbing of his muscles is easily ignored as he gets a proper look at you. Beans is bouncing about, making it hard for you to walk much further, and the eagerness to meet you in the middle is what carries him your way.

He can see you perfectly now, and even though you’re mostly squinting, Harry likes how pretty your eyes look, being lit up by the sun. Trying to pacify your pup, hands patting at her, cooing to her to calm down, you do your best to examine Bean’s supposed new friend. His cheeks are so flushed that you feel warmer just looking at him, little droplets of sweat sneaking past his forehead, his skin glistening, muscles flexed. He’s very handsome, and you’re rather grateful for stumbling upon him, but he looks like he just completed a marathon, and with the way his chest rapidly rises and falls- shallow breaths evidently stopping him from cooling down- you actually feel concerned for his health.

Other than a discarded t-shirt, he seems to be empty-handed, and considering this may be the hottest day of the year, there’s no way he had chosen to go on a run without at least a little bit of water… right? He doesn’t seem to be too bothered because he’s still smiling at you with a fondness that you just know is a result of spending time with your dog.

Harry is still dying inside, an irritating sharpness at the back of his throat following each breath he dared to take, but long ago decided he could put up with it a little longer. After all, Beans is still circling his ankles, and you seem far too pretty to just give a greeting and a goodbye. Your own cheeks are slightly flushed, and Harry wonders if it’s from working up a sweat or simply shyness.

It happens to be both, with a hefty sprinkle of embarrassment and a dollop of regret for even leaving the house this morning. 

Beans running off, you could deal with. Having to make it seem like you weren’t, in fact, a moron of an owner- who on many occasions could be seen chasing after their pet- was a damn nightmare.

The quicker you said it, the closer you would be to putting this mess of a morning behind you. He’s just so pretty, though… and you’re thankful that he doesn’t seem to be the type to reprimand someone over a trivial mistake. So, with a much-needed inhale, the formalities begin,

“I’m so sorry about my dog-”

“Please, don’t apologise-”

“I swear, I’m usually a better owner than this.” You try reasoning, but it’s only for your own sake.

“I’ve seen much worse, honest.” Harry smiles reassuringly, the corners of his eyes scrunching cutely as he crouches down to give Beans another rough petting,

“Besides, I got to make a new friend.” He beams up at you, “I’m quite fond of her already.”

“She majored in likeability.” You add with a playful eye roll.

He smiles at that, turning his attention back to Beans, scratching her belly as she rolls over sillily, moving side-to-side to ensure Harry gave her the best belly rub ever.

“I like you very much, Beans.” He beamed down at her fondly,

“Yes, I do. Yes, I do.” Beans loves all of the dotings, her tongue wagging in tune with her tail. Harry continues, 

“I love your silly brown eyes and your goofy smile, and I especially like your bandana.” He admires, glancing up at you.

“She picked it out herself.” You inform proudly.

"Oh, is that right?" His gaze shifts between you and Beans, smiling fondly at the situation he has found himself in, 

"You're a good girl, aren't you?" He hums, and you scold yourself for the way your thoughts turn filthy, stomach clenching at his praises.

Harry finds his feet once more, towering over you with ease. And, you can't even begin to ignore the sight before you- a practically naked man, desperately trying to cool down and enamoured with your dog. Every part of him is on full display; his chest still glistening, his tattoos shimmering in the sunlight, abs flexing and contracting on impulse.

He suddenly understands the utterly distracted gaze swallowing your features, finally sane enough to remember the lack of clothing he donned- how damp and frazzled he must appear. If possible, his cheeks are turning even pinker, all calmness replaced with the same heat he had worked so hard to dispel.

When Harry can't help but take a sharp inhale, you have enough reason to stop gawking at him and instead assist him in regaining his strength. Reaching into the tote bag currently slung over your shoulder, it takes only a second to retrieve what you were searching for, pulling out a mostly-full water bottle.

The bottle itself looks custom-made; probably something you had stumbled upon in a store, deciding it was too cute and camp to pass up on. Decorated in bright pink and pastel blue, two My Little Ponies prancing on either side.

You extend the bottle his way, and Harry looks at you curiously, taking a moment before registering what you're trying to offer. 

He feels bashful, but the mere presence of water makes it impossible to ignore the burning in his throat. So, he sheepishly accepts, his fingers brushing over your own. The water feels like a miracle as he welcomes it, and Harry thinks you might be a saviour disguised as a very pretty, very kind dog owner. When your face morphs into one of relief, the shame he felt is long gone.

After a hefty sip, you're tempted to reach out and wipe the small droplet that slips down his lip, and when Harry attempts to return your gift, you only shake your head in dismissal, getting ready to argue over the ownership of the bottle,

"Keep it." You insist, "You need it more than me."

"I couldn't-" He tries.

"You must."

Harry prepares to protest, but he can feel your sternness swallowing the space between you two, threatening to double down if he even tries. Instead, he accepts defeat, secretly grateful for your gesture,

"That's very kind of you." He commends, totally enamoured and already praying for a second meeting with yours truly.

"It's nothing, promise." You smile shyly.

Harry wants to use this opportunity to at least ask your name- this may be the oddest meet-cute he's had so far- but his mind is a scramble for what to say next, and by the time he manages to string words together, you cough awkwardly,

"Thanks again for taking care of Beans... And sorry again." You glance down at your feet bashfully, and Harry chuckles at your soft shyness,

"It's not a problem, promise." He reassures playfully, enjoying the way your eyes crinkled with a matching smile, 

"If anything, I owe you." 

You hope to god you're not blushing, and when you glance down at his hands, you almost lose all sanity watching the way the water bottle looks so small in his hand, thinking that they may be the perfect size to wrap around.... 

Thankfully, Beans barks enthusiastically, and you manage to pull it together enough to remember that home awaits; your body aching to kick its feet up on the couch, pour some fresh fruit juice, and perhaps take a well-deserved nap. 

"Well, good luck with the rest of your...run?" You confirm, and Harry chuckles heartily, 

"I'll give it my best shot." He promises before crouching down to address your puppy once more, 

"Thank you for keeping me company, Miss Beans, be a good girl for...?" 

"Y/n." 

"For, Y/n." He nods avidly, enjoying the way it rolls off of his tongue, smiling up at you sweetly. Beans lends him one last lick before retreating to your side, ready to follow you to the ends of the earth. 

"C'mon, Beanie baby." You nod at Harry in final departure, a shy smile still swallowing your lips as you turn on your heels and leave.

Harry stays put, watching as you slip further away, ready to descend this monstrous hill, excited puppy in tow. Glancing down at the bottle still clutched in his palm, he feels his heart racing- but this time, there was no physical exertion required. 

He wonders if he might get the opportunity to return your gift- to see you in general. 

But, what Harry does know with certainty is; Almost passing out from heatstroke can have its perks, after all. 

[ador3him]

Hello! How do you think fans and friends would react to the dt dating a Billionaire business women hcs? 😭 like they dead just start tweaking out LMAOOOO

- 👻

pairing: dream team x billionaire!reader

requested? yesss by 👻 anon

authors note: this is such a good idea!!! (kinda based them off some books I'm reading atm shhh)

---------------------------------------------------

DREAM

-dreams girlfriend is the owner of a luxury event planning business (Vivian Russo coded)

-they met when dream wanted to plan a welcome party for George.

-INSTANT CONNECTION

-at first he didn't know she was the CEO, but when he found out he was a bit zealous.

-he didn't want you to pay for anything, absolutely nothing.

-and he def couldn't help but search up your networth.

-his eyes bulged at the number.

-he def flaunted you when you guys went public, the tabloids went CRAZY

-he loves to promote your business on his platform and to all his friends when they need to plan an event.

GEORGE

-george's girlfriend is the owner of an internationalal real estate business.

-when he was selling his place in London she personally worked on his place due to his online presence.

-she legit flew from the US to do this.

-george was in awe of her dedication and straight up looks.

-he asked her out after escrow because he didn't want to be embarrassed whenever he saw her if he did it before.

-obviously she went out with him, they went to a fancy Italian place near George's old place.

-when George moved she would come visit whenever she was in Florida.

-soon she relocated from New York to Florida.

-george didn't want to go public but they were seen in a restaurant by a fan and they leaked pictures.

-his fans went crazy when they found out who she was and her networth.

-george felt so bad that he made a post saying that they broke up to get his fans away from their relationship.

so sad:(

SAPNAP

-sapnap met her at VIDcon. she was a fashion blogger who owns a luxury jewellery line.

-after a couple dates she gifted him a sliver chain with diamonds incrusted into it. And he went feral.

-she was a full on sugar mommy, and they both loved it.

-they went public a bit early because they were so in love with each other.

-the fans ate it up!!

-they loved the collabs on her fashion blog when she styled him.

-he also loved it.

-and the money

-you bet the fucking house she bought for the two of them was fucking crazy. full on mansion on acreage.

-they last for ever and ever.

[knightmareaceblue]

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.

Mango’s 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. She’d been disappointed to have lost the final round of the tournament, of course, but the young stick had always rebounded quickly. She’d wiped her eyes, offered a handshake to the kindly Ruby kid who’d 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 child’s 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 stick’s chest at the thought. The day he’d be without his child was still a long ways away, but he knew he’d never be prepared for Gold’s inevitable departure from the nest and into the greater world. He couldn’t even begin to imagine a life without her.

“Woohoo!” 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 child’s 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. “Easy there, honey.” He gently scolded, taking the trophy into his own arms. It wasn’t particularly large, only about as long as Mango’s forearm, but it was more than heavy enough to break something if Gold got overexcited and began swinging it around. “Let’s put this somewhere we can show it off, eh?”

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.

“Okay, okay!” 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. “But I’m not stopping here! Next tournament’s in six months, and this time-” Her first pumped excitedly in the air, “-Gold’s going for the gold! You’re gonna be so proud!”

“I’m already proud!” Mango insisted joyfully, delighting in Gold’s squeal as he scooped his kid into a firm embrace and spun them around, “You worked so hard for this, I’d be proud even if you got last place!”

Gold’s only response to Mango’s 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 Mango’s comprehension. Just watching that final round had made Mango tired.

But still, he kept his chin up as he informed the younger stick, “After all that hard work today, I think it’s only fair that I let you choose dinner tonight. You can have anything you want-”

“Secret ingredient pie!” Gold cheered, throwing her arms up in celebration.

Mango frowned, annoyed for more reasons than that he’d have to throw together the family-famous, overly complicated secret ingredient pie. “-Anything you want that’s an actual dinner food.” He amended. “I’ll make the pie for dessert later, but you need to eat real food too, honey.”

“Aww.” Gold groaned, momentarily put out, before springing right back up. “Tacos, then?”

“Tacos sound good.” Agreed Mango, already compiling a list of ingredients in his head. “I’ll need to grab a few things from the store, but that shouldn’t take too long-”

“Wait!”

Mango had not taken but three steps towards the door when his child’s 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 didn’t miss a beat, immediately hopping back and holding out the camera for her father to take.

“We gotta take one more picture!” The younger stick insisted, “You took like a million pictures of me at the tournament, but we don’t have any of us together!”

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 Gold’s triumphant smile at the podiums, there were none of the two together. Of course there weren’t. This was Gold’s special moment, Gold’s 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 wasn’t sharing in this victory with her was… just so Gold.

How a stick like him ended up with a kid like her he’d never know.

“So we don’t!” Mango agreed lightheartedly, playfully tussling the kid’s hair. “Go get your trophy, we’ll take one real quick before I head out.”

While she did just that, Mango took the time to adjust the settings on the camera so the indoor photos wouldn’t 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 Mango’s 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, “Say cheese!”

Trophy held high above her head, Gold cheekily replied, “Mascarpone!”

A click, a flash, and the moment was captured forever.

Gold snatched the camera out of Mango’s 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 child’s frown. Logically he knew that he couldn’t just magically make everything in her life all sunshine and rainbows all the time. That just wasn’t realistic. But knowing this didn’t stop the curdling in his stomach at the thought that something in her life just wasn’t perfect, or the urge to fix it, no matter what it took.

“Honey?” He asked gently, “What’s the matter? Did the photo not come out right?” He leaned over her shoulder to take a look himself.

Gold didn’t resist, tilting the camera so her father could see the picture. “There’s something else in the background. I thought it might be a smudge, but… it has eyes…”

Mango didn’t need his child to point out the problem with the picture – he could easily see it for himself. At first glance it did indeed look like a bit of grime had gotten on the camera’s lens, but a closer look indicated that this wasn’t 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 Mango’s entire body to stiffen.

It was like it was… staring at him through the camera.

Unease stole the breath from Mango’s lungs, leaving him unable to vocalize his confusion. There was nothing like that… thing in their home. He was certain there wasn’t, 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 Mango’s expression matched his child’s confusion, “What is that-?

A strange noise, like the distorted buzzing of television static, drew the tall stick’s attention back to the photo. Mango’s 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 Mango’s spine. “Delete the picture. Now.”

The sudden command – or maybe the unnaturally stern tone in which it fell from Mango’s lips – caused Gold to jump, briefly fumbling with the camera as her little fingers search desperately for the delete button. When Mango’s eyes connected again with the picture, he could feel his heart stop as the ghostly image’s eyes seemed to glow brighter, its hand extending to grab rather than invite. Gold’s fingers found the delete button, but one tap did nothing. The second tap did nothing. Third, fourth, fifth… 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-

“It’s not working!” Gold’s obvious panic jolted Mango’s 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 camera’s 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.

-------------------

“-And we’ll finish this off with some fresh basil on top. Then, voila! The perfect lasagna!” 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 – 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 ‘Old Man’, as they oh so affectionately called him, could do no wrong. It melted Mango’s heart, and he’d often wonder if Purple was doing this to him on purpose.

He wasn’t the same stick he’d been on the day he’d lost his child, and he’d never be again, but slowly, surely, Purple was helping Mango grow into somebody new. That was a debt he’d never be able to repay.

Purple hummed over the meal, inspecting it exaggerated scrutiny. “Not bad, not bad…” They agreed, nodding in approval, “But it’s missing a little something…”

“Oh?” 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 he’d ever put in his mouth. Never in his life did Mango think he’d become a gambling man, and yet, here he was.

“Yeah, I think it could use a little…” Purple quickly whipped a white bottle from behind their back. A wild grin spread across their face as they held it precariously over tonight’s dinner, “MAYONNAISE!”

“NO!” 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 Purple’s lips. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” They assured him between chortles. The kid laughed like a jackal, far louder and scratchier than Gold’s 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.

“You’d better be.” Mango warned with faux gruffness in his tone. “You’re enough of a heathen as it is. There’s only so much blasphemy one stick can take in his own home.”

“Hmph.” Purple huffed dismissively at him, the effect somewhat diminished by the wide grin they couldn’t keep off their face. “If you ask me, you don’t blaspheme enough. Still,” A subtle change in Purple’s demeanor signaled the end of the game. Mango let himself relax and lean against the counter, confident that Purple wouldn’t destroy their dinner now that they’ve had their fun, “we haven’t even put this in the oven yet, and it looks incredible! I didn’t realize cooking was so much fun!”

Honestly, neither had Mango, before Gold’s presence had forced him to make the jump from an all-instant food diet to cooking from scratch. “It’s quite relaxing.” Mango agreed. “If you’re interested, I can teach you to make all sorts of new stuff.”

“Oh?” 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 Mango’s heart. “Then maybe… maybe you could teach me how to make your secret ingredient pie?”

Mango tried not to wince, but couldn’t 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 Gold’s second place trophy being completely out-shined by her smile as she playfully pushed the trophy into her father’s 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 was… fine, as far as pies went. Sweet and soft, with a hint of tartness. Nothing you couldn’t 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 father’s heels and tug at his pants, begging to lick the spoon or mix the filling. With age Gold’s interest in the pie hadn’t 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, he’d say. I’ll do it later. Maybe next time, again and again, and then…

And then Gold was gone. There would be no more ‘next time’.

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 yet…

“Well, it’s… a bit much for your first time baking.” Mango waved away Purple’s request with a too wide smile. His cheeks hurt from forcing his grin so large. “Why don’t we start with something simpler… like cupcakes?”

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. “I do like cupcakes…” They brought their eyes up to meet Mango’s, and the sheer affection reflected back at him, even after being denied, was almost too much for his heart.

“Then we can make cupcakes tonight.” 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. “AFTER you finish cleaning the kitchen, of course.”

“Aww, what?!” Purple whined.

“Well, I warned you, didn’t I?” Mango laughed off the complete horror on Purple’s face at the prospect of doing their daily chores. “I told you, ‘it’s your turn to clean the kitchen, so think carefully about what we cook’, and you still chose lasagna for dinner.”

An adorable pout was the only response Purple had for Mango’s 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. “Old man~!”

“No.” Mango responded coolly, slipping and letting his smile show at Purple’s aghast expression.

“But- but- we both made the mess, so we should both clean it up!” They argued back.

Already the older stick was shaking his head. “Nope. We already agreed on a chore schedule, and I’ve done all my chores for today, including cleaning up many of your messes. You can’t change the rules now just because they don’t suit you anymore.”

With that the oven timer dinged, and Mango redirected his attention back to tonight’s 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. “So not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, kiddo.” Mango replied back, slamming the door to the oven shut. “Get used to it.”

The kitchen then went silent, save for Purple’s 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 Mango’s kitchen like a tornado, sucking Purple in as the colourful gang that made up Purple’s 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 he’d 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 Purple’s shoulders in greeting.

Now, Mango didn’t necessarily dislike the kids. He honestly thought their positive and forgiving nature was a good influence on Purple. That said… “How the hell did you all get into my house?” He demanded flatly.

Yellow grinned back at him, using Purple as an armrest to prop herself up. “You left the front window unlocked.” She informed him breezily, entirely too calm.

“I did not.” 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.

“Not the bottom front window.” Blue chimed in, pointing to the clerestory window just above the front entrance. Sure enough, the thing was open, but Mango was absolutely certain he’d have heard the kids come in through that thing. They were many things, Purple’s 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. Mango’s 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 group’s 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.

“Whoops!” Red ran forward to scoop his precious pet up. “Sorry Purple! Reuben hasn’t seen you in a while, so he got a little too excited, didn’t you boy?” Red’s voice went high-pitched and cooing as he praised his pig. “Yes, you did! Yes you did, you silly little man!” Purple could only laugh at the tone of Red’s voice and continue to scratch the top of the pig’s head.

As precious as the moment was, Mango couldn’t even bring himself to savour it before reality caught up with him. “Oh no,” He interrupted, pushing himself to the center of the crowd. “No, you all know the rules: No Minecraft stuff on the main floor! Keep it in the basement, or take it home!”

Red gasped, holding the pig close. “Reuben’s not a stuff! He’s a member of the family, aren’t you boy?” Red scratched under the pig’s head as Purple scratched its ears, utterly lavishing it in attention.

“I don’t care if its your twin!” Interrupted Mango. “I’m not getting arrested for video game smuggling because of you chuckleheads!” Back during the ‘Plan’, Mango hadn’t 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 – this was Purple’s home too, after all, and he could trust the kid to be careful with their elytra. The rest of the gang? Not so much. “It stays in the basement, or it goes home. Pick one.”

Red made a show of his reluctant acceptance, sighing theatrically as he picked up his pet. “I’m so sorry, Reuben.” Sobbed the sorrowful stick, clutching the pig close as if this were a eulogy and not just sticking it in the basement. “You’re just too much pure goodness for this… sinful world!”

The display had even Purple, monarch of melodrama themselves, rolling their eyes. “We’ll go down and spend some quality time with him later.” They promised, “We can… uh, play catch?” They suddenly looked a little lost, “Do pigs like catch?”

This seemed to be enough to placate Red, for now. As they walked towards the basement, Mango turned to Yellow. “And you-”

“Staff’s already down there.” Yellow promised, briefly flicking through her inventory to demonstrate its emptiness. “Teleported it when we got here, don’t worry.”

That suited Mango perfectly fine. In addition to the whole not being arrested thing, he’d 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 – anyone – for Gold’s fate. By the time he’d realized what he’d done, Mango had nearly lost a second child, and almost killed Notch knows how many innocents.

So, needless to say, he’d prefer to not have to look at that thing.

By this point Red and Purple had returned, sans pig. Green’s 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, who’d taken advantage of Red’s 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 Mango’s head. “Did you kids, uh… want to stay for dinner?” A whole lasagna was probably enough to feed all seven of them. Though he’d hoped to have leftovers for the next few days, Mango supposed he could make the sacrifice. For Purple’s sake. “We’re having lasagna.”

Blue’s eyes immediately lit up in interest. “Ooh~! Lasagna! That’s a recipe I don’t have yet!” As if by magic, a pencil and paper appeared in Blue’s hands. “I’ve been meaning to try recreating a dish from taste alone. I bet I can identify all the ingredients-”

“The food can wait!” Unable to contain the excitement he’d 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 stick’s hand to pull them forward. “We came here because we have big news! Huge news! GIGANTIC news! And you’ll never guess what it is!”

Purple squirmed back and forth in the other’s hold. “Uhh…” They leaned away from Green’s entirely too close face, and Mango took that as his cue to intervene before the kid exploded from embarrassment or something.

“Go on, guess!” Insisted the green stick, his hold on Purple not loosening until Mango’s 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. “Just get to the point.” Mango insisted for all of their sakes.

The denial didn’t do anything to diminish Green’s 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 didn’t know know these kids quite as well as Purple did, but he’d 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 distress…? Combined with the excitement of the other four sticks, Mango could hear the alarm bells getting louder.

Oblivious to their friend’s blatant discomfort, Green blurted out, “We just found out… that Sec has super powers!”

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, “Yo, what?!” 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 principle’s office. “Yeah, heh. Surprise…”

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Purple’s 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 Second’s face, bouncing energetically on their toes as they eagerly questioned, “What kind of powers? What can you do?”

“Oh, you know, just the typical stuff…” Second trailed off, their eyes focusing on a spot on the ceiling instead of Purple’s wide, bright expression. “Flying, telekinesis, healing, electricity… uh, eye lasers…”

Each item added to the list only caused Purple’s smile to grow and grow, until a wide grin was stretched across their face. In any other circumstance such a look would cause Mango’s 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, “You HAVE to show them off!”

A cacophony of agreements came from the rest of Second’s 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 Second’s powers, and that caused a pit of dread to form in Mango’s stomach. This was a recipe for disaster.

Hurriedly, he tried to speak up, “I don’t think-”

Mango’s attempt to interrupt was completely bowled over by Purple in their excitement. “What should we have you do?” They wondered aloud. “Maybe we can set up some targets for you to shoot down?” The other kids seemed eager, nodding along to that idea. “Or you can race me flying with my elytra! Or-!” Purple suddenly gasped, hands covering their mouth as they smiled wider, “Or you can use your powers to clean up our entire kitchen!”

For a brief moment, annoyance trounced Mango’s anxiety, “Purple, that’s your chore for the day. You can’t just use your friends to do your chores for you.”

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. “Please, won’t you clean the kitchen? Pretty, pretty please?”

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 Second’s inner turmoil, each of their friends began pilling into them, begging incessantly.

“Come on, please~!” Red whined, pulling on Second’s arm.

“I’ll make you all the cookies!” Blue promised from their other side, pushing her head into the crook of their neck. “Like, so many cookies!”

“With that much stuff? It’ll be epic to see if flying all around!” Yellow mused. “I bet with enough practice you could pull off a ‘Wizard’s Apprentice’!” Her arms flapped at the thought, “Ooh, man! That would be the coolest!”

“You gotta show Purple what you can do!” Green pleaded, giving Second a sorrowful pout that would put even Purple’s best acting to shame. “Please! Please! Please! PLEASE!”

The kid demonstrated an iron will as they shook off their friend’s clutching hands and pleading eyes to put some distance between them. “Guys, I dunno…” Second kept their eyes away from their friends, focusing instead on a spot on the wall. “I’m still pretty new at this… and I don’t want to mess anything up…”

Despite their clear reluctance, Second’s friends kept egging them on, and Mango stepped forward to put a hand on Second’s shoulder. “I agree.” He stated, giving the kids a glare when they started to protest. “These powers sound like they’re 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.”

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. “On second thought, let’s do it.”

“What?!” 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. This… 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 with…

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 he’d faced previously, Mango tried one more time to talk sense into Purple’s friends. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

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 Mango’s interference. After a moment of silence, Second responded. “Yeah, I know. But it’s fine. I can do this.” Second looked down at their own hands, gaze unfocused. “I can do this.”

Second’s 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 Second’s body to spread across Mango’s 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, Second’s 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 – 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 Second’s sparking power had turned off the gravity.

In spite of his early complaints, Mango couldn’t 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 Yellow’s mumbling as she thought aloud to herself. There was buzzing on Mango’s 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 Purple’s 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.

Second’s power soon brought order to the chaos they’d made of Mango’s 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 everyone’s attention to the sink, where a stream of water began to bend and twist upward to form rings between the layers of dancing cutlery.

“Hydrokinesis!” Yellow gasped. “That’s a new one!”

The scratching sound of pencil meeting paper was only barely audible over Blue’s inquiry, “Is it really hydrokinesis, though?” She scratched her chin, “Or just… telekinesis used on water?”

“Is there a difference?” Red asked.

All three of them were immediately hushed by Green, “Let them do their thing.’ He scolded roughly. Mango hadn’t considered that there was a second in command among the group of friends, but given how everyone immediately shut up at Green’s 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 Second’s show. Along with the ring of water, globs of what Mango assumed was soap had joined in the choreography. The tempo and melody of Second’s 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 Second’s power crawled across it, and combined with the jade sparks of lightning that flowed freely through the room, it completely transformed Mango’s kitchen into a much larger, more ominous space. Mango’s fingers twitched, itching with sudden nerves, and to sooth them he reached around Blue to take one of Purple’s hands. Though he couldn’t see Purple’s 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, Second’s 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 Second’s power.

“Ahh!” They cried out, startled by the mistake. Immediately Second’s 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. “Uhh, d-don’t worry, I can fix it!”

The change of attitude caught them all off guard, and Mango’s 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. “Hey, dude, it’s okay-”

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. Second’s 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.

“Sec! Stop!” 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 Mango’s 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. “Dude!” Purple called over the noise. At this point the chaos had created a cacophony so loud Mango could barely hear the kid over it. “You need to calm down! You’re gonna destroy the entire house at this rate!”

The loud hiss of, “Purple!” 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.

“H-hey!” Blue worked her way in front of the group, hands held out placatingly in front of her. “Second, try and focus on me, okay? It’s going to be alright. I’m going to approach now – slowly.” 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, “I’m going to make my way to you, and you’re going to calm down, and nobody’s going to get hurt. We’re going to be fine.”

And, for a brief moment, it seemed like she was right. Second’s eyes were glued to her approaching form, and the sight of her smile eased the tension from their body.

“Look out!” 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 towards… towards the photo on the wall-!

Mango’s 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 he’d released Purple’s 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 Gold’s 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, “No, no, this is okay, I can fix it, it’ll all be fine, I can fix it… I-I can fix it…!” 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.

“Kid, hold up-” 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.

“I can fix it, I can fix it, I can fix it…!” The haphazard promises fell from Second’s lips along with their labored breaths. Then they clutched their head and screamed, “I CAN FIX IT-!”

An explosion of emerald light knocked everyone back. Mango’s 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 Second’s power poke out of the squall before being sucked back in.

Mango barely had a minute to take in the catastrophe that Second’s show had become before the kids’ chatter redirected his attention. “Okay, let’s not panic!” Yellow instructed, pushing her glasses up as she picked herself off the ground. “We can- uh, we got this! If we just ground the lightning-”

“Ground it with what?!” Red snapped back, gesturing wildly at the mess in front of them. “Sec’s power isn’t like normal lightning, that wouldn’t work!”

“And you have any better ideas?!” Purple demanded. Thankfully for Mango’s poor heart, the kid stayed down close to the ground, even as they joined in the argument.“We can’t just do nothing!”

Blue joined Yellow’s side quickly, fidgeting with her fingers. “It-It’s just because Sec’s panicking! We just need to wait for them to calm down, and-”

“And what, just leave them like this until then?!” Yellow questioned sharply, causing Blue to flinch back. If Yellow noticed, it didn’t show on her face. “I am not going to abandon them! Not after everything, I can’t-!”

Everyone seemed to wince in response to Yellow’s outcry, and the following tense silence was quickly filled with a pitiful, mournful wailing from the kitchen. The sound seemed to echo in Mango’s head, plucking at the strings of his heart painfully. And he barely knew Second; he couldn’t imagine how this must feel to the kids, who had known The Second Coming for their entire life.

A hitched breath drew Mango’s 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. Green’s 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. “Screw it,” He said, and that was the only warning any of them had before he charged forward. “Hang on, Sec! I’m coming!”

Everyone watched him disappear into the chaos in stunned silence, before Yellow gritted her teeth and shouted, “Don’t worry, we’re on our way!” 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, “It’s going to be okay, Second! We’re on our way!” as she barreled ahead.

Movement at his side jolted Mango’s 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 Mango’s lungs in his chest. All air escaped him in one startled gasp. Purple’s 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.

“No!” Mango managed to force out, leaping to grasp Purple’s 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 Mango’s hold. “What are you doing?!” They asked, voice laden with desperation and fear in equal measure, and it only made Mango hold on all the tighter. “We- I have to get in there! Sec needs us- needs me!”

“I need you!” Mango forced out in a single, painful gasp. “I- I can’t lose another…! I’m not going to let you run to your death!”

Though the slip up made Purple’s expression soften some, they still held firm. “If we do nothing, then Sec’ll, like, I don’t know, explode or something! Then we’ll all die!” Instead of trying to get away, Purple clasped Mango’s hand with their other, meeting the taller stick's gaze with fire alight in their eyes. “I can do this! I promise, nothing will happen to me!”

Mango glanced down at their intertwined hands, Purple’s fingers gently rubbing soothing circles into his skin. Subconsciously his breathing began to follow the rhythm of the motions, and the burning fire in Mango’s chest was extinguished. With a deep breath and one final look into those pleading eyes, Mango relented. “Okay,” He said, but refused to release Purple’s hands. Instead he pulled the both of them up to a standing position. “Then we’ll go together.”

After a serious nod, Purple broke the tension with a playful wink. “Try to keep up, Old Man.” 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 Second’s 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 Purple’s hands slipped from Mango, and a near heart attack was mitigated when he looked back to see Purple pulling Red down from where he’d 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.

“We can’t get close!” Red yelled over the rushing tempest. “We keep getting knocked back by all the stuff flying around!”

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. “Then how are we supposed to get through…?”

Yellow’s shout, barely audible above the roaring winds, drew Mango’s 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. “This isn’t working!” He scolded, sounding angrier in his attempt to yell over the hurricane. “We have to try something else!”

“Well, what else can we do?!” Blue asked tearfully. In lieu of an answer he couldn’t give, Green instead took hold of her hand.

The gears in Mango’s head began to turn. They couldn’t 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 wouldn’t 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 Mango’s 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, “I have an idea!” Everyone looked up at him, all of the young sticks suffering various degrees of battery from their attempts to reach Second. “All five of you, huddle together and move in tandem! If you keep a firm hold of each other and work as a unit, you’ll be able to stand against the wind!”

“But what about all the stuff flying around?!” 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.

“I’ll take care of that.” He assured the children as he turned to them, forcing down the anxiety and pressure he felt and forcing up an encouraging grin. “You all just focus on getting Second out of there.”

Purple swallowed down their nerves before matching Mango’s smile. “Just be careful, Old Man. I’m not taking care of you if you throw your back out.”

Snorting, Mango turned away from the kids to focus on his job. “If you’re my nurse, I think I’ll take my chances with the lightning.” His voice then dropped, turning serious. “Now get moving!”

All of Mango’s 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. Purple’s 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 Purple’s 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.

“Just a little closer!” 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. “Just… a little…!”

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 they’d be fine from then on. A bone-deep ache made itself known as Mango let himself relax a touch, but he didn’t 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 cyclone’s 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 friends’ lives, the seedling began to sprout, bringing with it a harsh, ashy wind that left a bitter sensation on their skin. The photograph’s 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 Second’s body. With each forced beat the ache inside of them grew and spread. They were dying, Second’s thoughts screamed at them from within their fuzzy brain.

They were going to die here.

They were doing to die here.

And it was all… their… fault…

This wasn’t 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 Green’s body, or violet bruises ringing on their fists as they looked down at Red’s 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 they’d lose control, knew that this power would poison what they’d built, but they’d made the mistake of giving in, and now they were going to die.

They were going… to die…

All alone… after ruining everything…

They… they were… going to…

“Sec!” 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 Second’s 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 Second’s shining emerald gaze. “I’m here! I’ve got you!”

Stunned, Second couldn’t even bring themselves to return the embrace before another pair of arms forcibly wrapped around them. “Don’t worry, Sec!” Red assured through a large, vibrant grin. “It’s just a little thunder, nothing we can’t handle!”

Another jolt to their side signaled Yellow’s entrance, squeezing them so hard that rough burning churning within them was squeezed out, to be replaced a soft, bittersweet pressure. “Told ya, didn’t I?” Yellow asked, never once letting her hold loosen. “I’m not letting anything tear us apart.”

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. “I know you must feel so scared right now,” She consoled, her voice feather-light on their skin, “But you’re not alone – everyone’s here! We’re all here with you!”

Last but not least, Purple forced themselves into the hug by worming their way between the others to snake their arms around Second’s middle. “Pfft, if you’re trying to get rid of me,” They scolded jokingly, “It’s gonna be a lot harder than that, Sec.”

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 Second’s entire body, forcing out the various aches from all over. Second’s shoulders relaxed as they took in a deep breath. Oxygen hit their lungs for the first time since the picture broke. Second’s 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, they’d 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 couldn’t 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,

It’s 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 weren’t 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 Second’s attention was hyper-focused on the two upset figures, to the point where everything beyond them and the arms around Second’s waist disappeared from their mind. All they wanted was to give the two strangers a little taste of the comfort that everyone’s 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 one’s 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 further… further… just a bit more…

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 he’d 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 family’s 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 Green’s 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 Green’s growing headache.

Green forced down a swallow as he took in the wreckage. The memory of Sec’s 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 they’d all been having fun, and Second had finally begun to relax. He’d thought that maybe, just maybe, they were finally starting to accept themselves… 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 Purple’s 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. Yellow’s one leg was splayed out in front of them, and when Red made contact with her ankle she winced. Green couldn’t 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 Yellow’s care to Red, scanning across the room until he found Blue, also mostly unharmed, hovering anxiously over Second’s body with her hand on their neck.

The sight of his motionless friend caused Green’s breath to catch in his throat. No… were they… did he cause his best friend to…?

Mere moments later Blue’s shoulders relaxed and she visibly exhaled, a small smile forming under her tired eyes. Green echoed her relieved sigh. Second was… alive, at the very least.

In the little time between awakening and checking on his friends, the ringing in Green’s 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 and… something. Because they hadn’t moved Green had initially overlooked them, but following Mango’s gaze Green could see… 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. Mango’s 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 who’d almost killed them all than Purple’s 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 Mango’s distress.

“It’s finally happened!” Mango declared between laughs, his eyes completely glazing over with a sheen of distress. “I’ve finally gone insane!”

Purple, eyes wide, stepped in front of Mango with their arms stretched out in an attempt to placate him. “No, no!” They assured him, words rushed in their panic. “You’re not crazy, I promise, I see them too! P-please stop laughing-!”

“-I’m fine! I’m not the one who, exploded, you need to go help Blue-!”

Green winced, struggling to stay focused as everyone else’s voices began to pick up volume, fighting each other for his attention.

“Okay, c’mon, wake up-!”

“You can’t walk on that, are you nuts-!”

The voices pounded in Green’s ears to the rhythm of his racing heart.

“H-hey, come on, take some deep breaths-!”

“Seriously, let go-!”

“Please, Sec, please-!”

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.

“I- This isn’t real. There’s no way this is real, this has to be-!”

“C-come on, Old Man, focus-!”

“Yellow, will stop trying to-!”

“Get off of me-!”

“Come on, Blue, think-!”

“Will you all just SHUT UP?!” 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. “Yellow, let Red help you to the living room.”

“I’m fine-!” The injured stick tried to object.

Green immediately shut that down. “No, you’re not. If you were, you would have walked away from Red by now.” Green sighed. “Look, I don’t want to be mean, but if you try to walk on that ankle you’re going to make it worse. And the last thing we need right now is for things to get worse. It’ll only take a few moments for Red to help you walk to the armchair. Let him do that, and we won’t have to worry anymore, alright?”

Any protests died on Yellow’s lips as she absorbed Green’s 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 Red’s shoulders. The two began to stand in order to limp out of the room, and Green shifted his focus.

Mango’s breakdown had been halted by Green’s 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 Second’s 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 he’d 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 Green’s brain, but there were more important things to focus on at the moment.

“Once Red’s done helping Yellow,” 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. “He’ll help you guys get these two somewhere more comfortable. Should we put them in Mango’s room?”

A moment of silence fell over the two. Purple suddenly couldn’t meet Green’s eye, glancing awkwardly to the side, while Mango seemed to take a moment to process the question. Eventually, the old man answered, “We can put them in Gold’s room. It’s a little dusty, but it should be fine, I guess.”

Green cocked a brow at the taller stick. “Wait, Gold’s room…?” That answered some of Green’s questions and raised so many more, but for the moment Green restricted himself to the most important one. “There are only two bedrooms in this house. Where does Purple sleep?”

“I gave them my old room,” Mango answered without hesitation. Purple seemed to flinch at the confession, something like shame crossing their face. “These days I’m usually not sleeping through the whole night anyways, so I’m good with just the couch.”

Well, at least Purple had a real bedroom. Still, something about this revelation left a sour taste in Green’s 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 Red’s fast movements caused his head to spin.

“Uh, Red and I can handle, um, the old man- the other version of you, I mean.” Purple muttered, stumbling over their words. “You can take Gold- i-if you’re okay with that, that is.”

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, Mango’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched as he approached the two with heavy, slow steps. Gingerly he pulled back his other self’s arm to expose Gold, who stirred slightly but did not awaken. Mango’s 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 Mango’s 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. “Um, sorry.” Red scratched his head, a little awkward in the face of current tensions. “But, err, I don’t know where the bedrooms are, so I was thinking you could take the feet and direct us, and I’ll grab the head. You good with that?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” 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 couldn’t slow down now. Not when he hadn’t even dealt with the worst of the damage he’d caused yet.

Taking only a moment for a calming breath, Green slowly waltzed over to Blue. She held Second’s 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. “How are they?” He asked instead.

“Well, I can’t find any serious injuries,” Blue updated as she continued to stroke the fluffy mess of bedhead, “But they may have internal injuries? It’s hard to tell- I’m equipped to deal with minor wounds and Minecraft ailments. Not… this.”

“Wouldn’t their healing powers take care of that?” Green asked, kneeling down next to Blue to take their dear friend’s hand in his own. It was cold and clammy against Green’s 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. “It hasn’t kicked in yet. Maybe they’re too tired to do it? Or maybe it’s a good sign!” Blue forced herself to perk up at the thought. “Every time Second’s used their healing powers it’s because someone got seriously hurt. Maybe they’re not hurt bad enough for it to activate on its own.”

“Maybe,” Green agreed, even though that didn’t really sound right to him. Since Sec had become aware of their powers, they’d shown the greatest connection to their healing. It was one of the strongest abilities. “Still, I don’t think they’d be too comfortable sleeping on the floor. Is it safe to move them?”

“Oh! Uh,” Blue thought for a moment, her eyes scanning over Sec uneasily. Moments passed into minutes before she answered, “I- I think so. As long as we’re careful.”

Green nodded, already standing to take hold of Second’s legs. “Okay, I’ll walk backwards with their legs, you take their head.” 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 Mango’s 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 Mango’s couch and slowly, gently, set them down. Second didn’t so much as stir during the transfer, which only made Green all the more worried. What he wouldn’t give to have his best friend suddenly sit up and throw a pillow at him for disturbing their rest…

For now, Green once again took hold of Second’s hand and watched their drained, pale face as they slept. He didn’t know where he’d 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 they’d been allowed to enter Gold’s 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 the… 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 Purple’s 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 kid… well, it wasn’t like they hadn’t 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 bed’s 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.

“Uh…” Red’s awkward voice reached Purple’s ear, and they turned to look at the stronger stick as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. The old man didn’t seem to hear him. “So, I’m gonna go, uh, check on the others… yeah… we’ll be in the living room if you need us… uh, sorry again about your kitchen.”

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 house’s 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. “Hey,” They addressed softly. Mango didn’t so much as twitch at their touch. “Are you feeling okay?”

It took a moment for Mango to respond. “Sweetheart, I’m feeling a lot of things right now,” He droned, not taking his eyes off of the two sticks curled up on the bed, “and none of them are okay.”

Purple winced. Sweetheart only tended to come out when one of them was feeling particularly bad. Usually Purple themselves. Still, they pressed onward, “Yeah, that’s fair,” They agreed. Then, with a little hesitation, they asked, “How… how do you think Second… brought them here?”

Mango sighed, bring his hand up to hold his forehead. “I dunno. Cloning, maybe? They have art powers or something, right?” 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. “I’m not exactly in a state to think too hard about that.”

Okay, fair. Purple tried to think of something else – anything else – that they could do in order to make Mango feel better. After fumbling over their words for a moment, they eventually asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I think…” Mango’s breath hitched. “I think I just some time alone, kiddo.”

Something deep inside Purple shattered at the request. Still, they nodded obediently. “Okay, I’ll go check on the others, then. We’ll… be in the living room.”

Purple knew if they turned back to look at Mango, whatever they’d 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 Purple’s 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 Second’s 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, “How’s everyone doing?”

“Okay,” Green murmured, briefly looking up to meet purple’s gaze.

“I’m good!” Red assured, plastering on a huge smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Blue assured gently, tapping her fingers on Second’s arm as she checked their pulse again.

“Peachy,” Yellow spat sarcastically, glaring at the ground.

Then, after a pregnant pause, all four turned towards Second’s unresponsive form. The tension returned tenfold.

Red finally spoke up, cutting off the pressure as he smiled awkwardly at the group, “You know, if Sec were awake, they’d probably say something like, ‘At least they let me sleep in for once’.” The turn of phrase was made in a terrible impression of Second’s voice, followed by a nervous laugh that quickly petered out, “Hehe, hehe, he…”

More silence.

“They’ll be okay… right?” Blue asked softly.

“Of course they will!” Cut off Green, looking mildly insulted at even the suggestion that they wouldn’t be. “They’re Sec! They’re always okay!”

Yellow’s 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. “Yeah,” She agreed absently, though she sounded like her mind was somewhere far, far away. “They’re always okay…”

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, Purple’s eyes scanned over the group, and soon came to rest on Yellow’s ankle. Though mildly swollen, it didn’t look broken, so Purple hazard a guess that it only needed rest and icing. They piped up, “Um, why don’t I get you some ice, Yellow?” 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. “Oh my gosh, Yellow, I am so sorry! I didn’t even think about that- I was so focused on Second that I forgot- I can’t believe I-!”

“Hey, hey,” Yellow consoled, sitting up straight for the first time, “It’s alright. We all know the rules: The one who’s hurt worst gets priority treatment. And it’s just a little sprain, it’s not like it’s broken or anything.”

“But still…” Blue kept her eyes trained on Yellow’s 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: “Personally, I blame Green.”

“What?” Green snapped back, looking vaguely offended by the accusation.

“You have two working legs,” He explained in a matter-of-fact manner, “You could’ve gotten up up at any time to take care of Yellow, but nooo…”

Purple snickered openly at the look on Green’s face, which only got louder when he turned his glare at them. Yellow, snorting, chimed in, “Yeah, Green, aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one?”

“Oh, we all know there’s no ‘responsible’ one!” 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 Mango’s 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, they’d 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 area…? 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 they’d even get a bit of a payout from the company that made the microwave.

Nodding in satisfaction, Purple paused in front of the fridge. They’d 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 Purple’s 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.

“-and so I said, ‘That’s positively blue-tiful!’” Red recited, and Yellow groaned lightly while Green and Blue cracked up. Somehow Purple got the feeling that they were laughing more at Yellow’s 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. “Thanks,” Yellow grumbled with a pout. She winced as the ice was set on her swollen ankle. “You got anything for the headache Red’s puns are causing?”

“Come on, Red’s just trying to make you feel better.” Purple scolded playfully, “It isn’t very ice of you complain.”

They almost cracked at the complete and total betrayal that befell Yellow’s face. “Purple,” She gasped in horror, “I trusted you.” Green, Blue, and Red all howled with laughter, Red even doubling over and clutching his side.

“That was your first mistake,” 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. “I see you’re all doing well,” 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 was… too composed, which made Purple’s 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 Second’s side, taking a look at them himself. “How bad is it?” He asked.

“N-not that bad… no serious wounds or anything, I think they’re just drained,” Blue filled him in. She again checked Second’s pulse.

Mango hummed aloud, “Still, I’d rather be safe than sorry. We should get them to a hospital or something.”

“A hospital?” Green questioned, suddenly looking uneasy. It quickly spread to Blue and Red.

“Um,” Yellow interrupted, “Look, the details are too… complicated to get into right now, but that would be a really bad idea. Especially if they decided to isolate Sec.”

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 didn’t look quite ready to let this go. Knowing how the old man worried and figuring that it wouldn’t 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 Yellow’s side to place a comforting hand on Mango’s arm, redirecting his attention back to them.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” They confirmed, “Sec’s got super healing powers, so they’ll be able to patch everyone up once they’re rested up.”

Still Mango looked unconvinced. "I don’t know…”

“Trust me,” Purple pleaded, and they were pleased to see a little crack in the old man’s armour.

After a moment of hemming and hawing, he sighed, “Alright, fine, for now,” Mango agreed. The others slumped in clear relief at his resignation, “But if they’re not up by sundown, we’re taking them to the nearest doctor.”

“They will be,” Green stated with unyielding confidence.

Mango nodded, then glanced over at Yellow. “Your ankle isn’t broken?” He asked.

“Sprained,” She confirmed, “Just need to ice it and keep it elevated. I’ll be fine.”

Satisfied with that, Mango nodded affirmatively. He looked a little more at ease than he had been back in the kitchen. “That just leaves one more. Green,” Said stick flinched at being called out, “Hold still for a moment. You hit your head pretty hard back there. I want to make sure you’re not concussed.”

Purple winced. Come to think of it, they had heard a pretty hard thump after Second had exploded. Had that been Green’s head hitting the wall? There had been so much going on they’d barely taken note of it.

Nearby, Purple heard Blue whisper under her breath, “I didn’t even notice…” They didn’t 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, “I was nauseous and dizzy at first,” The musical stick explained, “But after I sat down and relaxed a little it went away. Now I just have a raging migraine.”

“Hmm,” Mango scratched his chin, “Well, try to take it easy, just to be safe. Head injuries are no joke. I’ll ask you again later, but so far you seem fine.”

Some relief returned to the room at Mango’s 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 – 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 – 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 ‘stop’ motion kept them in place.

Carefully maneuvering down beneath them, The Second Coming waltzed through the timeline of the kitten’s 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 they’d 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 self’s presence. In response the version of her in Second’s 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 Coming’s 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 frame…

To the kittens…

To the key frame…

To the kittens…

And the Second Coming understood.

--------------------

Second shot up from their resting position, crying out, “Holy heck I broke space time-!”

Just as they’d 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.

“Ah…” 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. “Ow, ow, ow…”

“Easy, Sec!” 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. “Take slow, deep breaths… there you go, you’re almost there…”

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 Blue’s 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 pain… not disappear, but lessen just a tad.

Blue was suddenly shoved to the side, and Red’s face appeared in her place. “Sec! Oh man dude, you had us so worried!” Out of the corner of their eye, Second could see Purple nod in agreement.

“Hey, give them some space!” 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 Mango’s 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, they’d hurt the people they cared about most. Again.

“Are you alright?” Mango’s voice, unusually kind, cut through the self-loathing that was starting to dominate Second’s thoughts. He towered over Blue as he gazed down at them. “I 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.”

“Hospital…?” Second repeated, swallowing down a fresh lump of nerves. A hospital meant doctors – scientists, men in coats, isolated in tiny space, don’t move, it’s for your own good… “N-no, I’m okay. I’ll heal myself once I’ve got a little more energy.”

“You’re sure?” Asked Mango. When Second made a small sound of affirmation, he relented, albeit a little reluctantly. “Alright, I’ll let it go for now… but I’d like to change the topic, if you don’t mind.” Mango took a spot on the couch, careful not to touch Second in any way. “What did you mean when you said you ‘broke space time’?”

There was a glint in Mango’s eyes that brought an entirely new sense of discomfort to Second, but they ignored it and did their best to explain, “It’s like I said,” Their throat was already beginning to ache from just this amount of talking, but it was easy enough for Second to ignore, “I- 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-” Judging from the look on Mango’s face, Second guessed that they were getting a little off-topic and tried to steer themselves back on track, “Er, anyway, the key frame created a portal back to the moment it was created and- and basically made a ‘split’, to bring them back here.”

“A split?” Yellow asked, stroking her chin curiously. “So, does that mean they’re copies?”

Second shook their head instinctively, then winced at the resulting ache. “Not quite… it’s more like, I split the timeline? Since everyone’s memories of Purple and Mango are in tact and history clearly didn’t change, it’s likely I created an alternate worldline where those two sticks mysteriously vanished one day. You know, because I pulled them into the future.”

“Um…” Red looked completely lost, “Okay, can you explain that again, but in a way that makes sense?”

Thank goodness Yellow took point, because Second’s 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, “It’s basically just alternate universes.” She stated smoothly. “Like, instead of the timeline exploding or all of our memories altering to account for Mango mysteriously being brought into the future, instead there’s another world entirely identical to this one, except that Mango and that other stick don’t exist there, because they’re here.”

“I’m still confused,” Red said.

“For now, just know that these are past versions of Mango and Gold Ochre.” Purple summarized, “But, man… that’s incredible. We knew you were strong, dude, but…”

Every pair of eyes was on Second, pinning them with a sudden pressure on their chest. More little murmurs broke out between Second’s friends, whispered words that they couldn’t quite make out, and Second forced their eyes shut. Unable to hear their friends’ conversations, Second’s 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 couldn’t they just go back to being normal?

“All that aside,” 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, “I think we’ve waited long enough, so I wanna know. Who the heck is Gold?”

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 didn’t make contact before withdrawing and instead offering gentle reassurances. “It’s okay. I can explain if you-”

“She’s my kid,” Mango finally revealed. Everything went quiet as the news echoed in their thoughts. “He… died a few months before I met Purple.” Mango’s eyes suddenly darted up, meeting Second’s head on. “And you brought her back.”

An awkward feeling settled over Second, as though they were taking credit for something they didn’t do. “I hadn’t exactly planned that,” They reminded him, “I just wanted to fix what I broke.”

“Fix what’s broken…” Mango echoed, then huffed out a gentle laugh, “Well, you certainly fixed something. I don’t think I can ever repay this.” Some sort of weight fell off of Mango’s shoulders, and he gratefully smiled down at them. The weight of his appreciation sat heavy on their chest. It didn’t feel like they’d done anything but mess things up, and yet… they’d saved a life? The duality of their feelings clashed within Second, leaving them unable to vocalize their thoughts. Oblivious, Mango continued on, “Now it’s just a matter of… explaining this whole mess to them,” He visibly winced, “That’s gonna be ugly.”

Second, sensing the discord in his tone, immediately volunteered. “I can do it,” They proclaimed, ‘I’m the one who brought them here, so it only makes sense…”

“Appreciate the thought, kid,” Despite his words, the disapproval was clear through Mango’s tone, “but this is kind of a family matter. I wouldn’t feel right about having you do my job. Besides,” He tossed a side eye to Red, Blue, and Green, all of whom, Second noted uneasily, were watching them with very intense expressions, “I think if you try to get up off that couch, your friends are going to duct tape you to it.”

Unable to deny that, Second agreed, “Okay, fair enough,” Then they chuckled, “Heh, at least they’re letting me sleep for once.”

For some reason, Red burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Meanwhile Purple stood up, eagerly rushing to Mango’s side. “I’ll come help!” They offered.

“That’s not a good idea either,” Mango told them, and if he noticed how their entire form seemed to slump, he didn’t comment on it, “If I know myself as well as I think I do, then I know exactly how my past self will react to the news that Gold’s dead, and…” A haunted shadow fell over the old man’s eyes, “I don’t think you need to see that side of me again. In the meantime, hold down the fort here. I’m officially putting you in charge.”

“Wait, why’s Purple in charge?” Yellow complained.

Mango side-eyed the lot of them, as though they were the ones who’d almost blown up an entire video game world, “Because they’re the only ones I’m certain won’t try and get themselves killed the moment I’ve left.” 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 Purple’s, though Mango didn’t 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. “So, what, we just wait around for them to wake up?”

Purple shrugged. “I guess-” They were cut off by a loud roar, fierce and angry like a lion, and Purple’s face started glow bright pink.

Yellow couldn’t help but poke fun at the suffering stick, “Aw, is someone a little hungy~?” She cooed.

“Agh, will you shut up?!” Snapped the mess of a stick, “I didn’t exactly get the change to eat after you guys showed up. We did make a lasagna, but…” Purple’s voice trailed off, and without further explanation they disappeared.

Oh yeah. In addition to all the other problems they’d caused, Second had ruined Purple and Mango’s dinner. It wasn’t 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.

“Uhh…” Second couldn’t tear their eyes off of the abomination. “Whoops.”

Red twisted away from the cursed creation, staring at it as though expecting it to attack. Green and Blue each approached to investigate themselves. Green’s nose wrinkled as he got closer. Uneasy silence covered the room as they all wondered just what Second’s power had done to the poor thing.

Then, at last, Blue shrugged and pulled a knife and fork out of nowhere. “Meh, I’ll still eat it.”

Everyone’s horrified expressions shifted from the monstrous creation to the monstrous stick. Green looked vaguely ill. “Dude,” He stared in disbelief, “That thing’s like, three different kinds of radioactive.”

“I’ve put worse things in my mouth.”

--------------------

Soft sunlight poured through the window, gently caressing Mango’s face with unseasonable warmth. His eyes fluttered open, his blurred vision gradually clearing to reveal the familiar sight of his child’s bedroom ceiling. Spending nights here wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, especially when Gold was younger and afraid of what might be hiding in the room’s darkest corners, but what bugged Mango were the holes in his memory. He and Gold had just returned from a tournament, that he recalled. They’d celebrated and begun planning dinner, and then… nothing. Just a deep-rooted sense of unease and a blinding green light assaulting his eyes.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Mango’s 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 – 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.

“Gold?” 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 Mango’s attempts to awaken her. “Five more minuteees…” She whined, pulling her pillow around her ears in an adorable fluff sandwich.

Though he couldn’t shake the nerves wracking his entire body, Mango found himself smiling at the adorable sight. “C’mon, honey, get up,” 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 she’d 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, “Mm, dad?” He asked, his voice shifting in a subtle way, “When did we go to bed…?”

“Still putting that together, hun,” 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 Mango’s head to a grinding halt. Instinct had him throwing an arm up to push Gold behind him, only barely registering the kid’s gasp, before he turned to glare firmly at this intruder. Then his glare dropped in shock as he found himself face to face with… 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 hadn’t 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 didn’t turn him off as much as it would other sticks, it was certainly startling to see.

“Nice to see you’re both awake,” He commented coolly, not yet addressing the blatant elephant in the room. His voice was like a recording of Mango’s own, altered mildly to add some huskiness.

“Wait, dad? But you’re… and you…?” Gold’s head spun back and forth as he looked between his father and his father’s perfect doppelganger. The poor dear seemed so lost. Finally, he pulled his head over Mango’s still extended arm to whisper a little too loudly, “Dad, do you have a secret twin you never told me about?”

Before Mango could respond, Mango- the other Mango, ah heck, that was gonna get confusing – answered in his place. “Not exactly, honey. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but…” He stepped a little closer, and smiled a tiny, broken smile, “It’s so good to see you.”

A sinking weight began to form in Mango’s 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.

“I understand why you might be confused. I’ll explain everything in a moment, but I’d like to begin by re-introducing myself.” To that end, his other self sauntered across the floor with surprising confidence for someone who was clearly such a mess, grabbing Gold’s nearby desk chair and spinning it around to sit backwards in it, in exactly the same way he’d always scolded Gold for, and placed some cheap looking prop crown atop his messy mane. “You may call me ‘King’. At least for now, so people can tell us apart.”

Gold blinked dumbly at his father’s doppelganger for a moment, then a bright, wide grin stretched across his face, “Whoa!” He cried out, pure excitement dancing in his eyes, “You look so cool!”

“You look ridiculous,” Mango informed him matter-of-factly.

“I know,” King stated, dramatically tossing his hair back with one hand. He didn’t specify who he was agreeing with, “But to get back to the subject at hand…” For a moment this King guy hesitated, slumping and folding his hands in his lap before eventually proceeding, “There’s no real way to ease you into it, so I’m just going to come out and say it: You’re in the future. About two years in the future.”

Mango could feel his eyes widen. Gold’s fingers dug into his arm as he gasped, “The future…?”

“Indeed,” Confirmed King, and his eyes crinkled in amusement.

This new knowledge had Mango looking over their surroundings with fresh eyes. Something about Gold’s room was different. Not in the sense that it had been rearranged or had needed repaired in some way, but that it felt… 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 Gold’s 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.

King’s broken smile as he looked upon Gold came back to mind, and the knot in Mango’s gut tightened.

“Whoa, that’s- that’s crazy!” Gold pushed past Mango’s arms to crawl closer to King, totally enraptured by the infinite possibilities the future might bright. “Do you call yourself King because you rule the world? Has there been some kind of crazy apocalypse and you’re leading the survivors? Has the Internet ended!?”

Before Gold could take his hyperactive, overly imaginative questioning any further, Mango took the reigns and pulled Gold back by his collar, “Easy, Hon,” Mango scolded lightly, “Remember, it’s only been about two years. I don’t think the world would’ve ended in that time.” Much less Mango becoming some sort of monarch, but that thought was so ridiculous it didn’t need to be said. What idiot would make Mango a king?

King stood surprisingly rigidly, looking… too uncomfortable at questions he should’ve very well expected from his kid, “A lot can happen in two years.” He informed them both without any further elaboration.

“Still!” Gold pumped his arms up in excitement, his sunny smile shining so bright that even dull, downtrodden King seemed to lighten up, “You’ve gotta have so many crazy stories! Like that big fair coming up this summer,” That made King visibly flinch, raising so many more alarm bells in Mango’s head, “or-!” Gold gasped, “The next tournament! You gotta tell me how I’ll do! Do I win?! Did I screw it up?! How many people did I beat?!”

The look on King’s face was visibly pained, and the weight in Mango’s stomach became a black hole. It sucked in everything – his feelings, his attention, his damned air – as a terrible puzzle began to put itself together in his head. The dust on everything. The longing in King’s eyes. The exhaustion that encumbered every inch of his form.

No. No, I’m just imagining things. There’s no way-

A sigh, and King sunk in on himself, looking every bit like a monarch burdened with the weight of the world. “There are… some things you need to know. Don’t get up, this is going to be a long story…”

--------------------

Of all the things Purple had thought they’d be doing with tonight’s dinner, playing some odd combination of keep away and football was not what they expected.

The ball, also known as the ‘radioactive lasagna abomination’, was held high above Purple’s head as Blue stretched herself to try and steal it from them. It was all in good fun; Blue wasn’t 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 Blue’s 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 quantum… something? Purple wasn’t 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 they’d 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 moment’s hesitation they got into form and began to spin, building up momentum, all the while aware of Blue’s 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 Mango’s 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 – the thing had flown roughly thirty meters once it exited the house, landing food side down in one of the neighbor’s 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 neighbor’s front lawn.

Silence reigned for a heavy second. Then Blue made a sound like a small ‘meep’, her hands flying up to stroke her jaw, as if verifying that it was indeed still in tact.

“...And this is why we don’t like it when you put random things you find on the ground in your mouth.” 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, “Yeah, I’m gonna go try and get that pan back before someone notices… Sorry, Purple…”

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 – 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 Green’s, he seemed to at least be beginning to understand what they were talking about.

“So a ‘fixed timeline’ means that nothing you can do will altar the past and change the future, even if you tried to directly?” Red asked.

Yellow nodded, seemingly satisfied with how Red’s slap-dash time travel education was coming along, “Exactly. 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 there’s no changing fate,” She hummed, stroking her chin, “That’s 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.”

Purple’s 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. “Hey, hi. Maybe don’t say that in front of the Old Man? Like, ever?” Without giving her a chance to respond, Purple continued, “I think he’s had enough mental breakdowns for one day.”

“Ngh…” 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 couldn’t pull themselves up into a sitting position, “The more I think about this, the more I feel like I should be in there with him. I mean, I’m the one who brought them here, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” 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, “He doesn’t even know about string theory, or multiple worldlines, or- or the risks of tearing a hole in space-time? Like, what if there’s some sort of backlash from using that much energy at once?” Second’s face grew more and more tense as their rambles continued, “Or what if there’s actually still a microscopic black-hole in the kitchen, and it could tear open and swallow everything at any time?! Or-or-” Seconds eyes seemed to lose focus as they gazed up at nothingness. Their voice got hoarser, their breathing harder, their speaking faster, “W-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 there’s nothing left but the cold, endless void-?!”

“Whoa there, buddy, reel it back a little bit,” Red was the first to break free of the stunned stupor Second’s stream of madness caused, but once he did he moved to Second’s side to place his hands on their shoulders. Judging by how Second didn’t so much as twitch at the contact, his touch must have been unusually gentle, “You’re doing the thing again.”

Second’s eyes were bulging out of their face, but in a strange way their confusion seemed to ground them, forcing Second to focus on Red, “W-what thing?”

“You know, the thing,” Red leaned over Second to make sure they could see him as he continued, “That 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,” A grin fit for a clown spread wide across Red’s face as he described this phenomenon, “You know, that thing?”

Whatever the intention of Red’s comment, it at least got Second to calm down, even if it was only by making them more annoyed than worried, “I do not do that,” They insisted.

Green’s snickering laugh only increased the level of petty pout that Second was putting on, “You totally do, dude!”

“Majority rules,” Yellow added, smugly pushing her glasses up her nose.

In desperation, Second tilted their head towards Purple, “I don’t do that, right Purple?”

“I may not be a quantum physicist like you and Yellow,” The violet stick crossed their arms and leaned back, “but I am not stupid enough to get in the middle of this.”

Howling laughter erupted from the other three sticks, and Second sighed melodramatically, head slumping back on the couch, “I hate you all,” They declared in a weary sigh.

“Aw,” Red cooed, moving his hands to cautiously squish second’s face, “Is da wittle cwybaby feewing gwumpy?”

Second’s face lit up in a bright green blush, “What did I do to deserve this?”

Purple felt lighter as they laughed along with everyone. They hadn’t realized just how rigidly they’d 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 Second’s protective attachment, or Green’s 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 Purple’s 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, “You son of a bitch!”, 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. “Stay down, ya masochist!” He scolded, “We got this! Come on, guys!”

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 Mango’s Purple’s door to reach Gold’s, 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. Purple’s crown, once proudly displayed in the living room along with one of Gold’s trophies, had been knocked to the ground in the middle of the chaos.

Purple’s breath hitched.

“D-dad, please-!” Gold was crying, visible tears running down his face. Her entire body was shaking, “Please, c-calm down!”

“How could you?!” Younger Mango seemed deaf to everything, even his own child, at that moment, “How could you let this happen?!”

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 Mango’s arm. The sudden touch had him turning his tearful, angry glare at Purple. Ice spread through Purple’s veins as their eyes made contact, freezing them in place for the entire half-second it took for Mango’s 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 Purple’s ears, ringing heavily with each throb of pain, You need to fight, Purple! I can’t protect you forever, Purple-!

“Purple!”

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. Over… Purple? Or scaring Gold, maybe?

Whatever it was, the hysteria of his current mood remained in the old man’s voice when he called out again, “Purple! Are you alright?!”

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, “Pfft, I’m fine. I’ve taken hits twice that hard when I was half this size.”

Mango retreated a little at Purple’s words, no longer bordering on the edge of hysteria but still looking very uncomfortable, “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but that’s actually doing the opposite.”

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 and… something else, something dark, that made Purple’s 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 Purple’s vision before separating. Red lazily jogged along the outer edges of the room while Green approached the younger Mango and grabbed his arm roughly, “Well, since you two are clearly going to behave like children,” Green scolded as he dragged Young Mango over to Old Mango, only to do the same to him, “Then we’re going to have to treat you like children. Red!”

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 Gold’s 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.

“Hey!” 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, “Let us out of here, you damned brats!” The pounding of their fists against it matched the pounding of Purple’s 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, “Nope~! Naughty adults have to be punished in the time out zone~!”

“Listen, you little-!”

“Don’t bother,” A more tired version of the same voice reasoned with the angry one, “They won’t listen to you anyways.”

Maybe it was how calm the Mango he’d 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, “C’mon, Old Man,” They teased, hearing a bristling repetition of the nickname from who they were sure was the younger of the two, “You know you can’t really come out of the closet until you truly accept yourself.”

Who the heavy sigh that followed came from didn’t even need clarification, nor did the mumbling of, “Purple, I swear to Turing-”

As Green and Red went over the security on the door to be sure the two fighting adults couldn’t 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 wasn’t 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, “Hey, how are you doing?”

Gold jumped a little at suddenly being addressed, anxiously twiddling his fingers as he answered, “Uh, fine, I’m fine, I’m… sorry, I should’ve done something to stop them, or help, but-”

“I think we can excuse you for being a little… out of it today,” Consoled Purple. They felt like they should do comfort them – rub the kid’s shoulder, hug her, something – but the full weight of the situation kept them standing awkwardly still. Eventually, Purple managed to break the silence, “I’m Purple, by the way. I usually go by they/them.”

They held out their hand, and after a moment of silent staring Gold took it, “Uh, Gold. I’m- I’m a guy, at least for now. That’ll probably change, but I’ll let you know when it does.” Despite his clear discomfort, Gold forced a familiar smile onto his face. The family resemblance between father and son was so strong it would’ve been impossible not to see the Old Man in Gold.

“Thanks!” Red chimed in, sliding up to them from the side, “I’m Red, and that’s Green. We’re guys too! Mostly!”

Green rolled his eyes as he sauntered up behind Red. “Chill out, dude. C’mon, we should leave Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dork to their suffering and introduce Gold to the others.”

“Others? There are more of you guys?” Gold asked, too stunned to protest as Red and Green practically pushed him out of the room, “D-did my dad start an orphanage or something after I died?”

Purple couldn’t hold back their snorting laughter, “Nah, I’m the only one who lives here. Everyone else is just freeloading until further notice.”

---------------------

SO. Today hadn’t been going exactly like Gold planned.

He thought he’d 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 – literal years – into the future, where Gold was dead and his dad looked halfway to it. They’d 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.

“Blue’s not back?” Green asked as they all entered and wait, this wasn’t all of them???

One of them, a yellow stick with glasses, shook their head, “Probably still stealthing her way back. I’m sure she’ll-”

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 it’d been two years-), and a bright blue stick with a cheeky grin and one of dad’s new two year old casserole dishes held over her head triumphantly. “Behold! I have retrieved the evidence!” She looked around the room, stopped her gaze at Gold, and blinked owlishly for a long moment, “Uh, I feel like I missed something.”

Green openly snorted, “A few things.” 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 stick’s 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 wasn’t quite sure what to make of Purple; they’d been so nice, even after Gold’s dad straight up punched them in the face. A part of Gold felt like they were taking advantage of Purple’s hospitality after what dad had done, but an even bigger part was grateful for something – anything – to cling on to in the middle of this insanity.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout the mess,” Purple gestured vaguely to the ruined room, shrugging, “As it turns out, time travel has some wicked side effects. Including literally exploding.”

The stick on the couch, who Gold had assumed was asleep (or maybe in a coma), mumbled an exhausted, “Sorry…” before rolling a little to better face the others.

“Ah, right, let me introduce everyone!” 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, “Firstly, presenting the perilous potion pilferer, the gluttonous god of the grill, the mighty Miss Blue!” The blue stick had seated herself on the arm part of Dad’s armchair, snickering at Purple’s introduction, “Sitting next to her, measuring up at a whopping 1500 grams of brains and 50 grams of muscles-”

“Hey,” 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.

“-Her sassiness, the Unyielding Miss Yellow!” Purple spun around the armchair to stand between it and the couch, “Now, you’ve already been introduced to the Wrathful Red,” Purple presented Red who, despite his title, was grinning like he’d just won the lottery as he posed, “And Green the Guileless!” Green rolled his eyes playfully, “But be prepared, for our last friend is certainly not our least. They are the world’s deadliest mom friend, a hot-headed herald of hibernation…” Purple presented the stick on the couch with jazz hands, “The Second Coming~!”

The others let out a round of whoops and hollers that didn’t seem particularly appreciated by this Second Coming character, who waved everyone off with a grumpy frown. “You can just call me Second,” They informed Gold in a mumble. While they weren’t 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, “Second’s the one who brought you here with their super powers. It kinda drained them.”

Gold’s mouth was open before he could even fully take in the information, “Oh, so that’s why they look like a drowned cat.”

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, “Gee, thanks.”

Waving his hands frantically, Gold immediately tried to eat his words, swallow them, anything to take them back and redo his introduction, “I am SO sorry! I-I don’t even know why I said that, that was SO stupid-!”

“Hey, hey,” 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, “It’s okay, let’s just… start over,” They lifted their arm with shaking effort, managing a grin for Gold, “Hi, I’m Second.”

Feeling a little relief wash over him, Gold reached over and carefully took his hand, giving it a light shake, “I’m Gold. It’s nice to meet you.”

Second’s eyes remained trained on Gold’s face the entire time, watching him as if looking for something, and Gold’s 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 Second’s face, “What’s wrong? You look like a cat that’s about to be drowned.”

Everyone laughed even longer and louder than before as Gold’s jaw dropped. Once his brain caught up with the present, Gold found himself joining in on the merriment, “Okay, okay, that’s fair.” He agreed. Green’s 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 like… things would be okay.

A pained stomach grumbling out interrupted Gold’s thoughts, and everyone turned to Purple with various levels of amusement. “Geez, you still haven’t shut that thing up?” Green teased, his arm still around Gold’s shoulders.

“With what?!” Purple asked, “In case you haven’t noticed, the kitchen’s still wrecked!”

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 Gold’s 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 they’d done for him. Like giving him comfort and taking his mind off things and saving his damn life.

“Ooh! I can handle that!” Gold informed the others triumphantly, before pulling away to sprint towards the living room’s bookshelf. Once it had been neatly arranged; there had been a separate shelf for dad’s manuals, dad’s novels, Gold’s novels, and Gold’s 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 Purple’s, 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 – not as much as two years ago, he noted, but still plenty – before turning around to wave the fistful of bills for the others to see. Yellow’s eyes lit up as she squealed, and everyone else seemed to freeze in place at the sight of real money.

Purple’s mouth fell open in shock, “Wait, he had a secret stash this whole time?!” They scowled, “That cheap Old Man…”

“Nice!” 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, “Uh, is it really okay for us to use that?”

“Geez, you really are the mom friend,” Purple rolled their eyes, plopping down on the couch near Second’s feet.

Still, the worried look on their face was making Gold’s stomach squirm, so he held up a finger and declared, “Well, why don’t we ask him?” Turning towards where his bedroom was in the house, Gold raised his voice and shouted, “Hey, Dad! We’re gonna use some of the emergency fund to order out! If that’s not okay, say something!” Gold held a hand up his ear to amplify his hearing, and waited.

And waited.

And waited…

After a few more seconds of nothingness, Gold shrugged, “Guess it’s okay.”

Second weakly smiled in response, “Heh, alright then.” Their eyes fluttered a little, trying and failing to resist the siren song of slumber.

“Pizza cool with everyone?” 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.

“Oh, make sure no meat for me!” Red suddenly piped up.

Blue nodded thoughtfully, “I’ve never gone full vegetarian with a pizza. That actually sounds pretty good!” She licked her lips, no doubt imagining the taste of red sauce and vegetables on her tongue.

“I’m good with whatever,” Green piped up, “But make sure to get something simple for Sec. They tend to like the more traditional pizzas, and they’re already not feeling well, so…” His hand found its way to Second’s 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, “Okay, so we’ll get three pizzas. One classic pepperoni, one veggie…” Gold perked up, and quickly leapt to interrupt Purple and get his own favourite pizza added on.

“Oh! Oh! Could the last one be Hawaiian?”

“-And the last will be Hawaiian, obviously.”

The two sentences, spoken in perfect harmony, echoed through the living room as Purple and Gold’s 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 Gold’s side, and tossed an arm over his shoulder, “Goldie,” The violet stick smiled as they cheerfully proclaimed, “I think you and I are gonna get along juuust fine.”

---------------------

Thump.

“Arg… come on!”

Thump.

“Why won’t this stupid thing-”

Thump.

“Open?!”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Behind Mango, the so-called King sighed from the spot on the ground where he’d made himself comfortable, “Give it a rest. Those kid’s aren’t going to make it so easy for us to get out of here.”

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 wasn’t out there, alone, grappling with the knowledge of his incoming death and stuck with a bunch of strangers. If anything he seemed… 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.

“Maybe it’d be a little easier,” Mango sneered out under his breath, “if you did anything other than just sit there, you useless piece of-”

King cut him off, “Oh, shut up. You’re giving me a migraine.” As if to emphasize this point, King began digging his fingers into the temples of his skull, “Take it from someone who’s been there: You don’t want to fly off the handle at any little thing. Trust me, you’ll end up regretting it.”

Spinning on his heels, Mango leveled a glare at King. “This isn’t any little thing!” His fists twitched at his side, begging Mango to let them fly forth, to punish, to hurt. He held off for now, “This is my baby! My Gold! Dying! How could you not be furious?!” Just the thought of Gold’s suffering constricted Mango’s lungs in his chest, making each inhale of air a fight, “How could you just let this go?! He’s the only good thing in this cursors damned world, and he’s gone!” Turmoil churned in Mango’s gut, making him vaguely nauseous. He pushed through the pain, spitting it all back out at King, “He was pulled into some game attraction, glitched out of existence, and you just sat back and watched! YOU LET HIM DIE!”

He could see it now. Gold, pushing back against the pull of that accursed game, desperately reaching out to him, Dad! Dad, help me! I’m 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, Mango’s volume lowered as he growled, “I don’t care what you say, I am not you. I would never sit back and do nothing while my child was murdered.”

Throughout the tirade, King didn’t once speak up. Didn’t so much as twitch. He kept his gaze level and even on the wall opposite of him. “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t already told myself,” He responded coolly, far too coolly, once Mango was done. His vacant, uncaring eyes wouldn’t meet Mango’s, which boiled his blood hotter, “But I’ve been where you are. I know exactly how you’re feeling, and I know that giving into that anger will just make things so much worse. If you don’t cool off, you’ll end up doing something you regret.”

“Regret more than letting my kid die?” The idea was almost laughable, if it wasn’t so painfully stupid.

Finally King got off his lazy butt, standing and at last meeting Mango’s eyes. They were as cold and empty as King himself. “Earlier, when that kid tried to stop us from fighting, you swung your fists without even looking,” The phantom pressure of that child’s face danced across Mango’s 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 he’d caught the look on his future self’s face; how could he have so much concern for this random bystander when his dead baby was right there? Oblivious, King continued, “Did it ever occur to you that it could have easily been Gold who’d tried to stop us instead?”

Now that made Mango’s blood run cold, because he was certain his future self was right. If those kids hadn’t run in to interfere, Gold would’ve 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 would’ve punched his own child.

Pushing that thought of his head, Mango immediately redirected, “Are you sure it’s Gold you’re worried about? Because you seemed awfully concerned about that other kid… Purple, was it?” King’s 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, “Who are they, anyways?”

“They’re…” King tripped over his tongue, looking away from Mango as he no doubt realized what Mango had, “It’s complicated…”

“Doesn’t seem too complicated to me,” Mango stepped into the other’s space, backing him into the wall. For a so-called King, he didn’t 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. “It seems like you just picked up some random kid off the street to fill the hole in your life,” King seemed to bristle at that, which only spurred Mango on, “You disgusting, pathetic bastard. What kind of father are you, to just forget your child and replace them with-”

That was as far as Mango got before he was thrust against the opposite wall, a bruised arm threatening to crush his windpipe. The King’s eyes had gone wide and wild, like a feral dog’s, and Mango reveled the fury, “Purple is NOT a replacement for Gold,” He growled, voice low and dangerous, “No one could EVER replace Gold.”

Despite the pressure on his throat, Mango gave the other his biggest, smuggest grin, “What was it you said about giving into anger?”

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 didn’t quite succeed, “I know how you feel because I’ve been there,” King grumbled, “Do not presume to know how I feel in return. Purple is not Gold. They will never be Gold, and I don’t 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, I… hurt people. A lot of people,” As he spoke, King’s eyes lost focus, staring at the wall in front of him without seeing anything, “I 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 isn’t valuable enough. I owe them so much more than that.”

A ghost of a smile formed on King’s face. Mango’s stomach turned. How could this… sick monster smile while his baby was dead?

“I’ve already been angry about Gold’s death,” Continued King. He sounded less angry with every sentence, which began eating away at Mango’s limited patience yet again, “I know what that feels like, what it does to me. But this isn’t a time to be angry. Thanks to this… miracle, I have a chance to change fate. I’m elated,” King’s hand reached up to brush his too long hair out of his face, smiling softly, “I can save my child.”

“My child,” Mango interrupted insistently. Owlish blinking was what he got in response, and he sharpened his glare as he elaborated, “Your child, if you’ll remember, is dead. Gold is my kid, and I’m not going to become you. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

King pressed his lips together thinly and stared at Mango, but did not protest. “Fine. Whatever,” He brushed off, “That’s not what’s important. The only thing that matters right now is Gold,” For once, the King was speaking sense, “I won’t try to make you like me, or pretend that’s even possible. But for Gold’s sake…” An empty hand reached out, an olive branch of peace, “We’ll need to work together.”

There was no need to elaborate further. This King was his and Gold’s only connection in this world. It was still unclear if there was a way for the two to return to the past. They’d need a safe place to say, and while this had once been Mango’s 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. They’d 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, “Fine. For now. But the second I’m on my feet, I’m taking MY kid and we’re leaving.”

“As long as Gold’s safe and happy,” The King smiled a weary smile as he shook his hand, “That’s all that matters.”

Once the truce was firmly established, Mango pulled his hand from King’s 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. “If you’re trying to break through, you’re going to need more force than that,” Mango advised, folding his arms, “I figured if we both hit it in tandem-”

“We’ll break down the door,” King put a single finger up, shushing Mango like a child, and then he beckoned with his hand to his seething younger self, “but before we resort to destruction of property, hand me one of those hangers, will you? I want to try something.”

Automatically, Mango reached up and took hold of one of the wire hangers. Letting this bastard boss him around was far from Mango’s 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, Mango’s eyes met King’s, and it was only then that he’d realized that his response had been to jump at the sound. There was an unpleasant crinkle of amusement around the foolish King’s eyes as he stepped out, took back his crown, and mockingly bowed.

Smug bastard.

---------------------

Madame Marrone’s Pizzeria wasn’t the best pizzeria Purple had ever eaten at. Heck, it wasn’t even the best one in delivery range, but it was fast and cheap and good for what it was, so it was Madame Marrone’s chocolate brown visage on their pizza boxes when they’d 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 Purple’s head the first time they’d ordered pineapple pizza, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. And now that they knew the reason, Purple could barely contain their laughter. Who’d 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 Gold’s loss had hurt the Old Man so deeply. It wasn’t just that Gold was his kid – 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 they’d 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 they’d 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 Purple’s first clue, but in their defense they’d had more important things to focus on at the time. They’d only managed to get to the point of Gold’s demise before the chaos had broken out.

Red had winced, hearing the details of Gold’s passing. “I’m sorry, man,” He sympathized, “Minecraft glitches are rough.” Though the Booth Thirty incident and the ‘Herobrine’ incident were two very different circumstances, it was likely the closest any of them could ever come to understanding what Gold went through.

“It’s not like I actually experienced that,” Gold shrugged off the show of empathy. They’d all rearranged themselves after the pizza had arrived, and Gold had taken over the arm of the Old Man’s armchair, right next to Yellow. “But it’s so weird to think about. I mean, I knew death was a thing, obviously, but I’ve never even lost someone before. I’ve never thought seriously about what happens after death. Have you guys?”

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 didn’t 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. “I have,” They confessed. It was hard to avoid that topic, when your last remaining family was slowly fading away in front of your eyes, “They say when data’s deleted from a hard drive, it’s never really completely gone. That some trace of it always remains. I don’t know if that’s true, but I want to believe it is.”

Because it meant, in some way, that Purple’s mother had remained with them after her death. That Purple hadn’t 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.

“I… hope that’s true, too,” Gold agreed.

It occurred to Purple that they could tell the rest of the story right then and there. The details they’d been missing from the Booth Thirty Incident had been covered by Gold’s retelling of the event, and everything else they’d been present for. But the look on the Old Man’s face when he left to finally speak with Gold, that utterance of ‘This is a family matter’, muted their voice. It wouldn’t be right for Purple to tell Gold what they’d done. That was- that was King’s job. From family to family, no room for anyone else.

...Purple was a really bad person.

“Well, personally, I don’t,” Yellow declared, “I can barely handle one Green. The army that would arise from his many, many foolish Minecraft deaths? No thank you.”

Green scoffed at Yellow’s complaints, “You’re just jealous. You couldn’t possibly compete with an army that awesome.”

“H-hey…” Second’s mumbling broke through their ribbing, “Can we maybe change the subject? I’m not really up for talking about this right now…”

A round of worried looks passed around the room. While Purple lacked context for many of the group’s 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 could’ve 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 didn’t relent, only holding on all the tighter.

…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 Purple’s 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.

“’Bout time you broke out,” Purple said in lieu of a proper greeting.

The backhanded remark was barely acknowledged. Instead Old Man King tenderly took Purple’s face into his grip and inspected the still sore side where the punch had landed. A strange tingling sensation drew Purple’s gaze over the old man’s shoulder to the other old man, glaring daggers at them from over Gold’s fuzzy curls, and they couldn’t help the flinch in response.

Whether or not King could feel it too was unclear, but he shifted positions to block Mango’s view of Purple, and they allowed themselves to relax a little.

“It’s not as bad as I’d feared,” King spoke in clear relief, though his small smile was dampened by clear hints of guilt, “How do you feel?”

Eager to clear that remaining fog of regret from the Old Man, Purple scoffed and tossed their hair back, preening dramatically, “Alas, despite Mango’s best efforts, the curse remains in full effect. I’m still tragically beautiful.”

King snorted, “At least your ego’s still in tact,” He then glanced down at the plate of pineapple and ham pizza sat nearby. It was Purple’s third slice, which they had no shame about. It wasn’t like they’d have to share with anyone but Gold (and maybe Blue, though she seemed content with her veggie pizza), “Ah, you ordered out?”

“Yup!” Purple chirped, breaking away easily from the Old Man’s fragile hold to take their food, “We tried to salvage the lasagna, but…”

“It killed a bush,” Blue blurted out, a haunted look in her eye as she recalled just how close she’d 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, “Of course. Of course it did. If the neighbors ever sue me because of you brats, I’m dragging you all down with me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time!” Red chirped, like he was referring to casual criminal mischief and not that time King nearly killed them all. Purple couldn’t help laughing along with the others as they all cracked up. Nearly dying hadn’t 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 King’s grimacing face, they’d manage to convince the Old Man of the same.

For Gold, however, all the vague reference and laughter caused was confusion. “What do you mean?”

It had been so easy to forget, in the wake of all the revelry, that Gold still wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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 other’s comforting presence, King released Purple’s hand and exhaled, “I’ve brought this up to… your father before,” There was a strange intonation to those words, your father, and the implications made Purple frown, but they didn’t interrupt, “But there was more to the story I was telling you earlier. Things that happened after you died. You… deserve to know.”

Mango looked to the side. It wasn’t clear how much King had revealed to him, but it was enough for him to avoid his child’s confused eyes searching him for answers.

“Oh boy,” Yellow sighed, pushing back into the armchair and making herself comfortable, “Green, pass me another drink. This is gonna be a long one.” 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 Purple’s spot at the center of attention. Unlike Purple’s 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 King’s satisfaction, and once they did he sighed and began, “When you… died,” The light in King’s eyes completely left him, “I lost everything I had. My hopes, my dreams, my faith in this world… it was all gone. How could I hold on to any of that when my baby was dead…?” Unrestrained tears fell from the Old Man’s eyes, and Purple’s fingers itched with the desire to reach out, to take his hand yet again. But the eyes around them, the burning anger in Mango’s face, the repetition in their head of ‘this is a family matter’ kept them frozen in place.

Gold, however, had no such restraints, and even Mango’s hold couldn’t stop the bright stick from slipping out of his grasp and over to King. His arms wrapped around the Old Man’s neck, grounding him with the pleasant weight of warm sunshine. Purple’s fingers dug into he fabric of their pants, wondering why couldn’t they just be happy to see that? Why did it hurt so bad? Why couldn’t they just be a good person?

“I’m so sorry, Dad…” Gold cooed, and King’s breath hitched, “I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”

“Oh, honey,” Even through the tears, King managed to smile for Gold, “You never hurt me. Losing you was painful, but that was not your fault,” Purple turned to glance at Mango, and found him frowning in open displeasure at the sight before him. Well, at least Purple wasn’t the only bad person. King allowed Gold to hold him for a moment longer before gently, reluctantly, pushing him back, “but… please go sit down. I need to finish telling the story.”

With a great amount of effort, Gold broke away, sitting down next to where Mango was standing. The second he was within arm’s reach, Mango had him back in his embrace, holding him tight so he wouldn’t disappear again. His worried eyes stayed glued to King the entire time.

“Nothing mattered anymore. All I could think about was that moment, that terrible moment where I’d lost everything… 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 for… who knows how long. I was hurting, and I wanted to hurt the monster that took you from me.”

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 they’d truly realized why King had done what he did. Gold’s eyes widened, and Mango’s narrowed.

“But I’d already beaten the game’s technicians to a pulp,” 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 who’d been trying to run the game, they’d certainly felt it for days, “And the company had me sign a waiver. It’d been foolish of me not to read it, I know, but I couldn’t undo it. There was no legal recourse for me. I could’ve gone vigilante with it, but I didn’t have the resources or know-how to do such a thing without getting caught. And besides…” King’s eyes darkened, “My attention had focused… somewhere else.”

“On the game itself…” Green realized aloud. Red and Blue exchanged a look over Second’s 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, “I… don’t understand…”

“From my perspective,” King began to explain, “it 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 wasn’t 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,” A mad gleam fell across King’s eyes, “No matter what it took.”

Mango’s posture had stiffened, looking over at his other self in something like astonishment, “...huh,” He muttered, “You weren’t kidding…”

“But- but-” Gold sputtered, confused and grieved and horrified by what he was hearing, “But it’s a game! An entire world filled with monsters, and npcs, and other players, and- and- innocent people!” Gold’s 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, “It wasn’t the game’s fault the fair booth was glitched up! You can’t punish innocents for something that wasn’t their fault!”

King sat silently, unable to meet Gold’s haunted eyes.

The utter anguish on Gold’s 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 parent… well, nothing cut quite so deeply. Eager to push that pain out of Gold’s fragile heart, Purple intervened, drawing the spotlight to themselves, “But we beat him~!” They spoiled, hoping that knowing King lost would mitigate at least a bit of the heartache, “And we undid all the damage King and I did! No sticks were harmed in the making of this final showdown!”

“Uh, yes, sticks were harmed in the making of this showdown,” Yellow interrupted incredulously, “MANY sticks were harmed in the making of this showdown, actually.”

“Quiet, peg-leg,” Purple hissed back.

“Back up for a moment,” Mango suddenly interrupted, standing rigidly straight, “You said ‘all the damage King and I did’.” Purple winced. Yeah, they had let that slip, hadn’t they? “What do you mean by that?”

This was where King regained control of the narrative, taking back the spotlight from Purple to spare them the interrogation. “In 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 itself… 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 I’d envisioned, but nothing I acquired was strong enough. They could break things, sure, but they weren’t 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.

“I didn’t 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 didn’t sleep, I barely ate. I wandered the city aimlessly, asking anyone who’d give me a second of time, ‘Have you seen this icon? Do you have any information? Please, anything, I’d give anything…” King’s voice cracked, which signaled him to take a moment, take a breath, before continuing, “Then, I finally found it. Through a YouTube video, of all things.”

A chorus of groans came from the couch and the armchair. Second buried their face in their hands. Green sighed and muttered, “That’s how you found us? Cursors damn it, Alan…”

“We’re gonna need to have another long talk about this,” Blue moaned, “Ugh, as if the last one hadn’t been bad enough.”

“Alan’s the human you all live with, right?” Purple asked, receiving some half-hearted confirmations in response.

Gold seemed confused by the mere concept, “You all live with a human?” He arched his eyebrow at them. Though his haggard eyes indicated King’s 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, “I thought all humans were violent, stick-killing psychopaths.”

That wasn’t so uncommon a belief in a city run by Rocket Corp: everyone knew the tragic tale of its recently deceased leader, how they’d been created for the sole purpose of suffering and dying, how they’d manage to drag themselves from the Recycling Bin and rose to power, creating a safe haven where humans couldn’t 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.

“That’s not… always true…” Second protested, but it sounded weak and shaky for reasons beyond Second’s physical state.

The tension returned with a vengeance.

“...actually, that kinda proves King’s even dumber than we thought,” 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 King’s back, but one of the few insults he couldn’t stand was one to his intellect. It was, to put it in King’s own words, one of the few things he hadn’t lost that day, “I mean, you saw Alan’s videos of our adventures and you still thought it was a good idea to threaten and steal from us? Talk about moronic.”

Seething, King spoke through grinding teeth as he responded, “Well, I hadn’t exactly planned on fighting you kids…”

“You shouldn’t be fighting anyone,” Gold scolded, and though his glare bore into King, Purple didn’t miss his side-eye at Mango as well, “Or stealing anything.”

Thoroughly scolded, King winced and looked away, “Right, sorry. But, to continue, I used what I learned to seek out the sticks who had the Icon. That’s what lead me to Purple. Or, rather, them to me. I… wasn’t exactly honest with them.”

Purple snorted. “That’s 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!” Purple pumped their first up, as though in example, “...Of course, I didn’t know what the staff was really capable of, or what the Old Man intended to do with it. If I had, I don’t think I’d have gone along with it.”

Or at least Purple would like to think they wouldn’t have. They didn’t want to ponder too hard on it – given Purple’s thirst for power and how nice the Old Man had been when Purple was obedient, Purple wasn’t sure they’d like the answer they’d come to.

“So, the Old Man and I conquered a fortress in the game… even without the Icon, the staff was ridiculously powerful, it was so easy. Then we set about following his plan. I’d go find the others and lure them into a trap, then I’d get the Icon for King and we’d conquer the world,” Purple looked over at their friends, and felt a familiar kick in their gut, “Again, I am so sorry about that. I had my reasons, but…”

“We know,” Green consoled, patting Purple on the shoulder, “We’ve already forgiven you.”

“You know what they say about trusting people,” Blue chimed in, grinning cheekily, “Third time’s the charm!”

“Don’t think that’s about trust…” Second rebuffed jokingly from the comfortable cushion of Blue’s shoulder.

Warmth flooded into Purple’s cheeks. They couldn’t say what miracle allowed their friends to forgive them after all the garbage they’d pulled, but Purple would never take it for granted. Er, this time.

Red had taken over story-time in the meanwhile, “So, we ran into Purple after an already pretty long day,” Purple could hear Blue mumbling under her breath. They couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but it made Second chuckle, “And they lured us into this parkour course. It was pretty fun at first! But, then I won, and I realized the others weren’t coming, and the guards wouldn’t let me leave…”

“We were trapped,” Green summarized, “Stuck there so King wouldn’t have worry about us while he stole our Icon… hey,” Green’s brow furrowed, “Were you just going to keep us there? While you blew up Minecraft? Did you at least have some way to get Purple out?”

This question made Purple look away from the Old Man’s face for the first time throughout the entire story. It was done and over with. They didn’t need to know. They didn’t want to know. King’s mistakes, however painful, were done and over with. They were happy now. Questions like these shouldn’t be haunting Purple. They shouldn’t.

“There 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 hadn’t planned to sacrifice anyone else to Minecraft,” King answered, and Purple let out a breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding, “Things got… out of hand after you all broke out, though.”

“Seems they were out of hand for a long time before that,” Green quipped dryly.

Gold nodded along, staring blankly ahead of him, “Yeah, no kidding…”

The dismissive scoffing from Gold seemed to stun both King and Mango, but nonetheless King continued on, “When the kids realized what I was planning, they tried to stop me. We fought. I… didn’t hold back. Purple had succeeded in getting me the Icon, and after that I stopped caring about anything but reaching my goal. And… I succeeded.”

“Wait, what?!” Gold jumped up, alarmed, “No, but… no! Everyone here’s fine, that means you- did you actually destroy a whole…?”

Taking in shallow, rapid breaths, Gold backed away from King and held his head in his hands. Mango’s 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, couldn’t seem to bridge the gap between them.

Well, if King couldn’t 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, “Hey,” They put on their biggest, most confident smile for Gold, “Remember what I said earlier? I turned on King, and the good guys won. Minecraft’s still in one piece. King screwed up, but nobody died, I promise.”

Too distressed to respond verbally, Gold just swallowed and nodded. His father drew Gold closer and hugged him tight, and though Gold’s hands gripped at Mango’s arms, he didn’t look any more at ease.

King’s longing eyes clung fast to Gold’s anxious form, but after a moment he continued, “With the Icon’s 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,” Gold’s hands flew up to cover his mouth in shock, “But Purple… didn’t give up. Even when the beam was pointed right at them and their body was disintegrating…” The Old Man’s voice shook as he remember. Purple winced, rubbing at their arm to soothe an ache that wasn’t there, “They kept pushing forward, and… and by the time I’d realized what I was doing to them… they were almost…” The Old Man’s 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, “I… will never be able to apologize enough for that.”

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.

“...So you almost killed Purple?” Gold spat. Purple pried their gaze from the flooring to where the other kid was staring, “It wasn’t 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?!”

King didn’t have a response. He didn’t even try to defend himself, merely hanging his head in shame.

Mango, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to reassure his child, “Don’t worry, Honey,” He tried to console, unaware that his soothing words made Gold grit his teeth all the harder, “This isn’t going to be our future. I’ll make sure of it-”

“Right, because you’re not going to do anything like that!” Gold snapped, pulling away from Mango’s attempts at comfort, “It’s not like you just started throwing punches at literally everyone the second you heard something you didn’t like!”

The poor Old Man couldn’t 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. “Hey! Hey! It’s okay, it’s all gonna be-”

“It’s not okay!” Gold screamed at Purple, his tear-stricken face a near-perfect mirror of Mango’s. Unlike Mango, however, Gold immediately retreated when he saw Purple flinch away, “Sorry, ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I just…. I don’t understand,” His head fell into his hands again, tears flowing free and unashamed down his face as he repeated, “I don’t understand… he hurt you. He almost killed you,” Purple idly rubbed at their arm, unsure of what to say, “How can you forgive that?” Gold looked past Purple, to the many sticks sitting at attention on the couch, “How can any of you forgive that?”

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, “I can’t speak for the others, but now that I know, I can kind of understand why Mango- King did what he did.

“When you lose someone… or even think you’re going to lose someone… it’s like there’s 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,” Second took a brief break to cough before diving right back into it, “but, one of those things you feel is anger, and anger is different. It… tricks you, because even though it's just as bad as the other stuff, it feels constructive. Like, even though everything’s breaking down around you, there’s something you can do. Some power you can take back. And by the time you realize it was lying to you…” Second’s eyes fell, clouded by dark thoughts, “You’ve already hurt the people you wanted to protect.”

Without exchanging words, Red reached over and took Second’s hand into his own, squeezing it tightly. Green’s 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, “But that doesn’t make it okay.”

“No,” King agreed, quietly surprising Purple. With how heavily his sins were weighing down on him, Purple hadn’t expected the Old Man to speak up again, “It doesn’t.”

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, “How did you beat him?”

“It was all Sec, baby!” Green cheered, proudly displaying his orange friend.

Second rolled their eyes at him, “It 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!” After that proclamation, Second sunk further into Green, somehow looking even more tired, “For real, though, I wouldn’t have gotten close without you guys.”

“What would you do without us?” Yellow teased, a smug grin settling on her face. The friends shared a round of chuckles amongst themselves. Gold didn’t partake, only staring blankly at the wall behind the group. He only broke out of this trance when Yellow’s gentle touch on his arm caused him to jump, “Hey, I get it. You only just learned that you were going to die in less than two years,” Yellow spoke those words so casually, but the ripples of pain they caused through the room were all too palpable, “and then we dumped all this on you. It’d be a lot for anyone. You should take a break and get some rest. Looks like it’s getting pretty late, anyways.”

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 weren’t injured, they’d likely be staying the night anyways. It was simply too dangerous to traverse through the Minecraft world at this time of night.

“Okay…” Gold acknowledged, hugging himself. Mango once again attempted to reach out to him and was once again rebuffed, “I’m… I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

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 couldn’t 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 they’d 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 didn’t 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, “Hey,” They broke the silence hesitantly, “You doing okay?”

For a moment, it was like King hadn’t even heard Purple. They were about to repeat themselves when he finally responded, “I did the right thing, didn’t I?” He asked.

“Yup.” Immediately responded Purple.

That, at last, broke the mask King wore, making a small smile appear, “No hesitation, huh?”

“Look,” Purple leaned their full weight on the Old Man, “I may not be an expert on ‘healthy family dynamics’,” They punctuated their words with air quotes, “but I’ve 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 hadn’t told him yourself now, then he’d find out from someone else later, and that would have been far worse.”

Just the thought of that put a visible wince on King’s face, the poor Old Man nodding, “That’s true. I just wish I didn’t have to make him hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” They reassured, carefully watching King’s face to make sure he wasn’t getting too upset, “He’s scared, and hurt, and really overwhelmed. Give him some time. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

Well, Purple couldn’t really say that for sure. They weren’t in Gold’s 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 couldn’t 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 Man’s eyes, “You think so?”

“I know so,” Purple, master of ‘fake it ‘til you make it’, proclaimed.

Their reward was a pair of arms wrapping tightly around them, so quickly Purple couldn’t help the instinctual flinch in reaction, but once they recovered they immediately moved to return the embrace. Hugs weren’t uncommon between the two, per say, but there was something bittersweet about this one. After all, King had his own child back. This… 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 King’s sake, they’d be a good person, just this once.

“Ahem,” 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, “Sorry to interrupt,” He actually looked anything but sorry, but Purple wasn’t about to call him out and get punched again, “but I looked around, and I couldn’t help but notice that I no longer have a bedroom.”

Right… Purple had also taken over the Old Man’s 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 Gold’s, not the Old Man’s. 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 King’s kid and past self.

“That’s right,” King acknowledged, surprising Purple by taking one of their hands into his own, “Purple needed a space of their own, and I don’t sleep much anymore, anyways. Normally when I need to sleep I’ll catch a nap on the couch, but…” He glanced over to said couch, where Green was fluffing a pillow for Second, “I suppose that’s not an option tonight.”

Purple’s posture straightened immediately. They could sleep in the living room with the others – all five were used to bed sharing, it wouldn’t 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-

“You can sleep on the floor in my room.”

-And Gold beat them to it. He’d appeared from behind the corner of the bedroom hallway, looking just as drained as he had when he’d disappeared.

Both King and Mango appeared startled by the invitation. “Both of us?” King asked incredulously, and his brow only furrowed further when Gold nodded, “Are you sure?”

“If I didn’t offer, you’d both just be up all night worrying about me anyways,” Gold huffed. It was clear from his guarded body language and low voice that nothing was forgiven quite yet – but for him to make this offer, Purple must have been right on the money with their earlier reassurances, “So, yeah. You can both sleep in my room with me if you promise not to fight.”

The two versions of Gold’s dad eagerly agreed, and Purple fell back, swallowing the unmade offer, where it lodged in their throat and weighed unbidden on their lungs. They’re fine, they told themselves, watching Gold walk away to grab what little linen remained in the closet after the friend group had taken what they’d 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. They’d get over it.

---------------------

Mango had always been a light sleeper.

Even before Gold had come along, sleeping just wasn’t something that came naturally to Mango. He’d stay up late, awaken multiple times throughout the night, and be up and out of bed at what his old roommates called ‘the unholy hours of the morning’. 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 Mango’s 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 Mango’s 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. “Gold…?” 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 he’d been sleeping on the ground next to his own lookalike. “No, Gold’s still in bed,” King confirmed, tossing his head in the direction of the bed, where Gold slept with his back to the two, “That’s probably Purple. ‘M gonna go check on them… be right back.”

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 was… dead… and then there was Purple.

Thinking of Purple made Mango scowl and roll back over. It wasn’t the kid’s 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 King’s blatant affection left in his mouth. The tyrant didn’t hesitate to shower Purple with praise, or shield Purple from Mango with dagger-like glares. And because of… 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, there’s an easy way to find out…

Mango turned under his blankets to look away from the door. No. No, he wasn’t going out there. He couldn’t leave Gold alone after everything, and Purple wasn’t his problem. It was just a passing curiosity. Nothing more.

And where’s their real parents? Their real home? Who ARE they, anyways?

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

Why were they so content to play therapist to a stick who almost killed them?

It… didn’t matter…

The way they cowered when you hit them… were they…?

Mango forced himself up. It wasn’t like he was going back to sleep, anyways.

Instead, he slipped out of Gold’s room, trailing far enough behind King that he wouldn’t take note of Mango’s 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 Mango’s face as he pressed his ear against it to listen in to the two on the other side.

“Hey,” King began with a greeting, and Mango could hear someone scrambling on the other side of the door.

“Ack! H-hey, don’t scare me like that,” Purple’s scolding voice responded.

Laughter followed, deep but playful, “Sorry, sorry.”

“What are you even doing out here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Huffed the younger stick.

This was followed by an exaggerated groan of complaint as King audibly ruffled Purple’s hair, “I barely sleep on the best of days, and today’s been… a lot.” Purple mumbled something that sounded like agreement, “So I was already awake when I heard you leave your room. So, you want to tell me what’s up?”

A long, silent moment, filled with only the distant sound of crickets in the night, passed before Purple eventually responded, “I- It’s nothing, really. Sorry to drag you out here-”

“Don’t give me that,” Chided King, “C’mon, tell me what’s going on. The King demands it.”

Purple snorted in laughter, though it wasn’t a particularly jolly sound. Rather, it sounded… tired, “It’s not important,” They tried to downplay, “Just… a bad dream. I’ll be fine.”

“Ah,” Another moment of silence passed, followed by a simple question, “Pink or Blue?”

“Why do you think it always comes back to…?” 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, “Pink.”

“That makes sense, given that we’ve seen the dead come back to life today,” King shuffled over on the stoop; closer to Purple, maybe, “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Not really much to talk about,” Purple proclaimed, before elaborating anyways, “Mama and Pops and I were up at the beach, north of the city. Do you know it? It’s at the lake with the little island in the middle.”

“Never been, but I’ve heard good things,” Confirmed King, “Is it nice?”

“It’s beautiful,” Purple sighed, their voice tinged with melancholy and nostalgia, “We’d 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 gathered… then, when it got late, we’d have ice cream and watch the sun set together. No matter what else was going on, we were always happy there.”

Were. Mango’s 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 King’s own. That answered some questions, and raised so many more.

“We’ll have to go up there sometime,” King responded, speaking to Purple like one might speak to a skittish kitten.

“Yeah…” Despite the affirmation, Purple didn’t sound particularly enthused at the idea, “but, normally when I dream of the beach, it’s a happy dream. So I was surprised when a storm rolled in and my Pops… 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 of… monster. I couldn’t make it out really well, but it had really big, really sharp teeth.

“It dragged Mama down into the water. She kicked and screamed, and started coughing really bad, but she couldn’t get away from it. At first I just sat there and watched like a total idiot,” Mango couldn’t help wincing at the raw bitterness in Purple’s voice, all directed inward, “but 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 couldn’t break free of it, no matter how hard I kicked, and she just got dragged down further, and further, and then… then I couldn’t see her anymore,” Purple’s voice shook a little, “I… once I lost sight of her, I froze. All I could think was that I wasn’t strong enough to save her, wasn’t good enough to save her, and it hurt so bad. I didn’t even realize I was drowning too until I woke up gasping.”

King and Mango both took a tense moment to absorb Purple’s 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 wasn’t crying. Was it because they didn’t want to burden anyone with their grief? Were they too used to the pain to cry? Mango couldn’t 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 else’s…

“I’m… so sorry,” King cooed softly, his voice a careful orchestra of concern and restraint. “You know… once Second recovers, we can ask them to do what they did for Gold for your mom. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“...No.” Purple’s answer was sad, but resolute, “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. What happened to Gold was a tragic accident. Mama’s death was… not. She died of a long, incurable, painful illness, and we don’t know if Sec’s healing powers work on diseases like that. If we brought her to the future, no matter how far back we went, I’d just have to watch her die again. Not only that, she’s so nice, all my friends would love her, and then they’d have to lose her too. It just wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved.”

Mango felt a stupor fall over him as he mulled over Purple’s answer. When he’d learned about Gold’s death, he could only process two things: the fury he felt at the monster who’d 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 him… he’d 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 was… utterly baffling.

“That’s an incredibly mature decision,” Spoke the King, “and I’m so sorry you had to make it, sweetheart.”

“Eh, those were more like excuses not to ask, really.” Purple sighed, far more world-weary than any kid their age should sound, “Even if the others didn’t kill me for asking after Sec almost died, it wouldn’t be right to make them risk their life again just for me,” They paused, then added, “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though.”

“I know,” Consoled the adult. Mango could hear him gently patting Purple on the back, presumably, and without thinking Mango clasped his own hands together. “I’ve heard being in a more comfortable space can help with nightmares. You said you wanted a hammock bed, right? That shouldn’t be too hard to install.”

There was a brief pause before Purple answered, “You… don’t mind me modifying your room like that?”

“Your room,” King corrected without hesitation. “It’s your space now, Purple. I’d 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.”

“Heh,” A little more cheer was evident in Purple’s voice as they absorbed King’s words. They seemed more confident, somehow, “Yeah, thanks. Hey, maybe we can take that trip up to the beach. You know, if you don’t bring any drama.”

Now that Purple’s mood was on the upswing, King’s own voice took on a more jovial tone as well, “Excuse you. I’ll have you know that I had absolutely zero flair for the dramatic before you entered my life.”

Mango couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Um, no. Even he had to call bull on that one.

“You’re welcome~!” Purple teased back, “But, seriously, the beach is kind of my happy place. So we can only go together if you promise to keep it a happy place.”

Context made King respond a bit more seriously, “I promise. Nothing but happy memories at the beach!” Then he hummed in thought, “It might be a while before we get to go, then. ‘Drama’ has kind of taken over our lives right now.”

“When hasn’t it?” Purple joked back, “But, until then, maybe we can go somewhere else? And we can even bring Gold and your evil twin.” Mango scowled as King snorted. How did he, the one who wasn’t a terrorist, end up with the title of evil twin? “Like, we can check out the amusement park! Or I can show Gold my tree house-”

“Gonna have to veto that one, bud,” Interrupted King, “I know it wasn’t the game’s fault, just some malfunctioning tech, but I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be comfortable with Gold going into Minecraft after what happened… I’m only barely able to handle you going in there alone.”

Mango flinched away from the door for a moment. The game that killed his kid… Purple played it? And King let them? What was wrong with this guy?

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Purple agreed casually, as if they weren’t talking about a stick-killing murder simulation, “then I guess we can do something else. Maybe the park?”

“Yeah, the park…” King sighed dreamily. Which park they were referring to was easy to guess; it had been his and Gold’s 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 Gold’s 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. “That sounds lovely. Gold could show you all his favourite spots, I could use myself as a punching bag to teach you both proper dueling,” Mango rolled his eyes as Purple let out a snorting laugh, “We could get corn dogs.”

“I hate corn dogs.” Purple answered. He’d 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, “Then the princess can get themselves a pretzel.” Purple tried to complain, but King cut them off by ruffling their hair. He chuckled fondly at them, all sweet and loving and… how could he not feel any guilt, showing them this kind of affection, when all he’d done was use Purple to fill the hole in his life? “How are you feeling now?”

“Mm…” Purple took a moment to mull it over before answering, “Tired, actually. I think I’m ready to head back in.”

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 Purple’s friends like they were hurdles on a track. The echoing creak of the door opening hit Mango’s 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 Purple’s friends.

That slowness would be Mango’s saving grace. He turned and began creeping through the hallway towards Gold’s 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 he’d been woken up in the middle of the night by a restless little golden angel knocking at his door.

“...Purple, hold up a second,” King’s voice quietly called out. Purple’s questioning noise turned to one of shock, “You’ve got something on your cheek. Here, let me-”

“Ew, Old Man, no-!”

Oh. King was giving him a chance to get away without being busted by Purple. Mango didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 today’s events were clearly weighing on him, and Mango’s heart ached at the sight.

At least the poor kid was able to get some rest.

--------------------

Gold hadn’t 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 – his Dad – had poured out to him. All the people he’d hurt, the world he’d 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 hadn’t even bothered to roll over and check on them. Were they fighting again? It shouldn’t have mattered, but another knife of betrayal stabbed into Gold anyways. He’d asked them to do one thing, one thing! And they couldn’t even manage that.

As he laid there, Gold’s mind flickered through the day’s 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 Dad’s Gold…

Tears burned at his eyes, and Gold sniffed and hastily wiped them away. He’d always known his Dad had a temper, but… but he’d thought his Dad was a good person…

Eventually one of the Dads came back, a near inaudible creak in the otherwise dead silent night signaling his return. Gold didn’t 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 – 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 wouldn’t 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 Gold’s heart to beat louder in his ears. Anticipation stole his breath.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know.”

Gold gulped down his nerves. Shoot.

Thankfully, before he could make the mistake of speaking up, the other version of his Dad, the one who’d entered first, responded from where he laid on the floor, “...Sorry.” The voice was soft, and lacked the hostility he had in previous conversations with himself.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” The Dad not laying down answered, “Tomorrow you’ll be telling Purple, and saying a proper ‘sorry’,” His tone was firm, and Gold realized that the one standing by the door was, most likely, King.

“I will,” Mango replied. He didn’t put up a fight at all, which somehow made Gold more nervous and suspicious than he would’ve been if he’d fought the demand. He paused for a brief second, then asked, “...Purple’s mom is dead?”

Gold’s breath caught in his throat. Purple was… was that why Purple went along with everything Dad had wanted? Because they didn’t have anyone else?

King sighed out a long, tired sigh before responding, “Yeah. She’s been dead longer than Gold. Some glitch in her core coding… I haven’t exactly pressed Purple for details, and they weren’t keen on giving them.”

“And their other parent?” Mango asked gingerly. Gold was reminded of an incident from when he was younger, when he’d broken a window with a baseball, and Dad was asking about the damages owed. The dread was tangible.

For a long moment King didn’t respond, and Gold was almost starting to think he wouldn’t when he finally answered, “That’s not my story to tell,” King’s 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 Gold’s father louder in his villainy? “And if I tried, I’d genuinely get too angry to sleep. Just know that if I had my way, that stick would NEVER get anywhere near Purple again.”

“So my hunch was correct,” Mango’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible, “The kid’s an abuse victim.”

Oh, and it just got worse.

“Like I said, Purple’s story isn’t mine to tell.” King spoke through gritted teeth, “If you want the details, you can ask them like the adult you’re supposed to be. But I’m not saying anything else about it. I don’t even think Purple knows how much I know about their previous home.”

Mango scoffed, “No wonder the kid’s so attached. How can you not feel guilty?”

“Guilty?” King echoed.

“For using that kid like you are? For taking in some sad, pitiable orphan just to make them replace your dead child?”

That- that wasn’t true, Gold forced himself to think. There was no way that Gold’s Dad would do that to some poor kid, right? But… there was no way Gold’s Dad would commit attempted murder, or destroy an entire world, either. He searched himself for some sign, any sign, that his Dad wouldn’t do that to Purple, and was met only with a clawing emptiness in his chest.

At this point, Gold didn’t know what to think of his own father.

“I’ve already told you,” Anger crept into King’s voice, though he kept the volume low, “Purple is not a replacement for Gold. They’re not some pet project, or some band-aid solution I’ll abandon now that Gold’s back.”

“...Well, it’s not like it’s my business,” Mango dismissed. Gold could hear rustling as he turned away from King, “Once 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.”

Bile churned in Gold’s stomach. How could his dad talk like that about Purple? After what they’d done for Gold? After what he’d 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 couldn’t 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. King’s emotional support and Mango’s target of resentment, allowing themselves to take on the Ochre family’s burdens so the rest of them could be happy. It felt to Gold like someone should take on Purple’s burdens, for once.

And if his father wasn’t 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.

[carmisse]

The heir of the Noldor ft Fëanor lives AU.

Fëanor : Hello my children!

Amras : Atya, it is so early.

Caranthir : Atar, you cannot summon us this way.

Celegorm : It's not fair. I will not stand for it.

Curufin : Really, we have lives. We have business to attend to.

Fëanor : By businnes do you mean provoking political discussions and getting into trouble that I should ignore?

Maedhros : My word, there are impressionable young gentlemen present.

Fëanor : Impressionable? Trust me, Maitamo, no sexual innuendo makes an impression upon you brothers. I wish it did, that they might get ideas to marry and start fornicating.

Amrod : Atar!

Fëanor : Perhaps, then, I might have grandbabies. Instead; virgins to the left of me, lustful to the right.

Maglor : I believe I am a married elf.

Fëanor : Yes, and where are you babies? You have made zero heirs to the Throne.

Maglor : I am trying!

Fëanor : Are you? Really? Dearest, I explained everything to you? I drew pictures? You are doing it correctly? Make sure you are putting it in the right place?

Maglor : Atar!

Fëanor : The only heir to the throne abdicated and abandoned us!

Curufin : — Sounds of crying —

Fëanor : …

Fëanor : Sorrows, Sorrows, Prayers. — gives him small blows on his back —

Fëanor : I'am stating facts! The princes have had no babies.

Fëanor : We had one heir, one royal and he is gone!

Curufin : — Sobbing —

Fëanor : Sorrows! Prayers!

Fëanor : Children, this is a crisis. I’ve heard from King Thingol on the topic. Worse, Ñolofinwë is talking about it, wich means everyone will be talking about it.

Celegorm : Atar, I think you are being a bit zealous.

Fëanor : No!

Fëanor : It's time to find for respectable husbands, it's time to find for admirable wives. Get started. One of you had better produce to next ruler of The Noldor or your grandfather’s line dies with him.

Fëanor : Make me a royal baby.

Maedhros : Atar, you can't really expects us t-

Amras : I'm still a babe Atya, you can't expect me to have one?!

Caranthir : This is utterly ridiculous. My husband has abandoned me. How will I produce an heir without him?

Amrod : He did not abandon you Moryo, he is dead.

Caranthir : It's the same.

Celegorm : We must get tyelpe back as soon as possible!

Curufin : You will not disturb my baby's peace! In addition, Findaráto won me custody in court.

Maglor : There's no need for that, Daeron and I will make it, eventually.

Fëanor : It is not a difficult task. Your Ammë and I made seven royal babies all by ourselves. I do not see why the would lot of you cannot make just one.

— The noise of arguments and disagreements can be heard in the background. —

[finniestoncrane]

To Use And Abuse

Dano!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 2k Part 2 Here! commission: eddie breaks into the apartment of his no.1 fan to test how much they love him 🐀💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: humiliation/degradation, dubcon if you consider the fact he broke in, public sex/streamed sex

The notification lit up your phone. You hadn’t quite been aware of how dark it had become around you as you stared blankly at your TV until the sudden flash temporarily blinded you. But you could forgive the brief headache it caused when you saw what the notification was for. The two words that were sure to make your evening, regardless of what the day had been like, what your plans were, or where you were when they flashed up on the screen.

Incoming Stream

Luckily, you weren’t exactly the most social these days. It was hard to keep up with friends, or even make any, in Gotham. And those that you could get close to were always the first ones to leave. If you were lucky. Otherwise, it was a never-ending succession of funerals, where you were so numbed by constant grief that it was impossible to cry. No friends, Gotham had taken them from you. But luckily, one man was seeking revenge on your behalf. On everyone’s behalf, actually.

Shifting from your sofa to the second-hand and cluttered desk in the corner of your studio apartment, you set yourself up on the kitchen chair that you used for work. You could feel your heart rate rising as you waited for your shitty laptop to come to life, the browser already opening on the login page for the stream you were so excited for. And after a few moments of darkness, there he was. Dimly lit, covered in his mask and glasses. Commanding your attention. The Riddler.

A moniker he had only come up with the week before, it suited him so well. Gotham’s newest vigilante, a man who worked in puzzles and hints, a man who was a problem solver, not one who created them.

Giddy with almost schoolgirl glee, you leaned your elbows on the desk, your chin in your hands, and sighed as you stared at the screen. You were enthralled by him. In love with him really, or whatever was closest to love that you could experience with a stranger through a monitor. So much so that you could picture yourself, filtered in rose hue, a delicate glissando playing from nowhere as you drew a heart around his face with your finger. It felt like a sickeningly sweet moment from a romcom each time you were graced with the honour of listening to one of his sermons. All you wanted was to offer him your adoration and praise.

So, as you did each week, you began to type your feelings into the chat.

Your sermons mean so much to me. You’re truly like a preacher. You speak the good word. There is no God, there is no Gotham, only The Riddler. I worship you. I want to praise you at your feet. You’re our saviour.

Was it overkill? Maybe. But you were desperate for his attention. And not once had he ever given it to you. Others had been given a shout out when they had something to input, but your zealous and continued support and love were overlooked. It was becoming disheartening, but you were far from giving up. If anything, it only made you want him more.

And you knew how ridiculous that was, but far be it from you to care. Not now, not after months of dedicated lust and desire. Even after the stream had ended, you stayed on the site, staring at the empty, black screen. You could make out your reflection. Pathetic, desperate, delusional maybe. Scrolling through the chat, you scowled at the accolades and compliments that were delivered to everyone but you over the course of the brief time that he had been on the screen.

Eventually, you decided to close the tab, instead reverting to your second favourite hobby of scouring through articles about him. His exploits, so much speculation about his identity and his meaning, his future and the potential behind him, comparisons between him and the Batman. So few pictures of him outside of some lazy screencaps. But you were happy to stare at them for hours. You had, in fact. By the time you looked at the clock at the bottom of the screen, two hours had passed.

Reaching up to stretch, mindful of your horrid posture, you were caught on the inhale of a yawn as two hands reached around you. One clamped your mouth, stifling a quick to form scream, the other pressed tight to your sternum, keeping you still.

“You’re shorter than I imagined. Exactly as pathetic as I thought though. Your living arrangements almost make mine seem pleasant.”

You recognised his voice instantly, your ears and brain immediately catching on, your heart following quickly behind as its pace quickened, blood pumping vigorously, pulse insane, breath shallow and ragged.

“Oh my god… is it really you?”

He let out a soft giggle, his fingers tensing where they held you.

“You tell me, sweetie.”

Letting go of you finally, he watched as you sank into the chair and fell to the floor, clumsily pulling yourself up to stand in front of him. You couldn’t tell what his expression was below the mask, but you could only imagine it was a cruel grin from the way his eyes lit up behind his glasses.

“How… How did you… my door was locked… There was no information on my account… Everything was behind so many layers of security.”

 “Oh-ho-ho! You silly thing. Did you not realise I’d find you?”

“How… How did-”

“Because I’m not a fucking idiot! That’s how. Did you really think you were protected by your pathetic security measures? That site was my kingdom!”

His voice flitted from the tones of anger to a lilting tune, as he delivered the next words in a taunting singsong, wagging his finger with the tempo of the tune.

“And I know everything that goes on in there.”

As you stuttered over confusion, trying to decide if you were more scared or more excited that the object of your obsessive desires was in front of you, he shook his head and sighed.

“Not quite the welcome I expected, a bit of a let-down like everything else in this world. I thought you said you wanted me here?”

He was stifling a giggle, his voice pitched high and strung with giddy glee.

“You do want me here, right? You weren’t lying? Because, heh…” the brief pause that he took to scoff, a derisive laughter that seemed to come from a place of sincere contempt, had you trembling slightly. Whether with anticipation, excitement or genuine terror you couldn’t be sure. Likely all three.

“…you know how I feel about liars!”

The sharp increase in volume was unexpected, but it was the way that he grabbed your waist and pushed you against the wall that made you choke on your breath. The gasp brought sharp and freezing cold air into your throat, not quite reaching your lungs. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, a deep heat spreading through your abdomen, a distinct throb in your clit as you fought the urge to toss your head back and beg him to take you there and then.

Staring back at him, his eyes glinting, the only part of his face you could make out, you bit at your lip. Hidden behind the thick material was a hidden stranger, someone you might never know. He could be anyone, and the thrill of mystery had you salivating. You instinctively leaned into it. He was so unpredictable, committed to danger. There was no telling how wrong this could go if you displayed your desire to submit to him. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“I-I’m not lying… I do want you here. I’m glad you’re here!”

Taking note of the tone in your voice, he felt his heart flutter. You weren’t lying, you were sincere. And you were his for the taking, as evidenced by how desperate you looked, how wide your pupils were, the way your chest heaved, back arching against the wall towards him.

“Then show me.”

His leather-gloved hands were on your shoulders, pushing you to your knees, and you followed easily putting up no fight. Once you were on the ground, you stared up at him expectantly, ready to obey his next command.

“Bow down then, worship me.”

As you slowly lowered yourself to the ground, you felt the sudden pressure of his weight between your shoulders. He pushed you down further, your chest and stomach flush with the ground, his heavy boot refusing to let up.

“Lick them.”

You looked up at him, expecting to meet his eye, the view blocked instead by his cell phone which pointed down at you. It was difficult to avoid the lens as it focused on you, recording your sudden flushed cheeks and trembling lip.

“Show them all how great you think I am. Lick my boots, that’s what you’re all about, huh?”

He watched you staying there, completely still, clearly in need of some more encouragement.

“Or are you suddenly so shy?”

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, straining his ear towards you, placing a hand behind it dramatically.

“Hm? I can’t hear you, little princess. Speak up. Or start licking.”

Still unsure of what to do, your mind telling you to hold off a moment longer, your body trying to follow his demands with foolish zeal, your hesitation brought out a softer side of him. With the camera of his phone still pointed directly at you, he lowered himself briefly to you. His gloved hand brushed your dark bangs away from your face briefly, his wide eyes fixed on yours as he thumbed your cheek. And his voice was surprisingly gentle and cooing, in contrast to the sickening words that it spoke.

“Don’t embarrass yourself in front of the stream. I’m sure they already think you’re a pathetic little slut, you don’t want them to think you’re an idiot too. Or are you? Are you just a stupid girl whose desperate cunt gets hot and wet and throbs at the first sign of a man who takes action?”

You could feel yourself nodding, agreeing with him despite your own morals and ethics shouting against it.

“Well, that’s good news then! Be the stupid little bitch you are and start. Licking. My. Boots.”

You looked directly into the lens of the camera before lowering yourself, determined to give them a show. Committed to letting everyone, not just the Riddler, know how keen you were to please him. And staring into his eyes, you pressed your tongue out, mouth wide and ready. And finally, you let the tip flick over the toe of his boots. A sensation he surely wouldn’t have felt through the thick material, but which made him throw his head back with a sigh regardless.

With a moan, you covered more of the surface area in your saliva, satisfied, body aching with want as you listened to his breath hitch. It stopped suddenly though, his head lowering back down to catch your eyes, his hand on the back of your head, pulling you up.

“See? That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. That’s a good, stupid, pathetic girl. And who do you worship? Who do you belong to?”

“You, sir.”

As you nodded, he mimicked you, his nods more frantic, almost cruel in the way he seemed to be mocking you. Soothing over your cheek with his hand before slapping it twice, you could see the edges of his mask shift as he smiled wide.

“What a good little bitch you are.”

Hooking his thumb over your bottom lip, he felt his chest hitch as you began sucking it. Clearly well trained, even if he had no part in it. There was a lot to you that he was keen to explore, physically and mentally. There was every chance that you would make the perfect subservient captive, a plaything to relieve his stress at the end of a busy day of his own brand of vigilante justice. His disgusting, pathetic slut. His to use and abuse. And you’d probably thank him for it. The thought of which sent a twitch through his cock, which had begun to harden the minute you had opened your whorish mouth and done exactly as he’d commanded. If only the rest of Gotham would bend to his will so easily.

[nakedcows]

Cult Leader Aemond x Reader

So I listened to "Cult Leader" by King Mala and I couldn't help but think of this and i really need this out of my head so.

p.s I haven't written fanfiction for a minute so I'm a bit rusty

picture belongs to @bittersweetarts

It was another insufferable day at Y/N's diner job that barely covered her bills. It was a shit job with coworkers that she had to constantly pick up the slack for, perverted creeps that came in to flip up the skirt of her uniform asking how much she charges for an hour, and drunks that would stumble in ordering food before vomiting and promptly passing out in the booths. Despite the incessant constant work it was decent compared to the seedy backrooms and under the table handies that came with most jobs in Flea Bottom. There weren't many jobs like hers in her unfortunate hometown and she was always grateful she was able to snatch this one up before the late fees on rent and empty fridge made her too desperate.

Y/n had just trudged in from the back door after dragging out a leaking trash bag to the dumpster while her coworker had a smoke outside. After washing her hands Y/n turned only to stumble back a bit as pair of blue robes loomed in front of the counter. The blue robes have been appearing wherever Y/n goes lately. On her walks to work, her occasional trips to the grocery store, and most often during her shifts. But this was new, the blue robes have never approached her they've always just stood next to the entrance waiting and watching sometimes for hours. The blue robes were apart of a religious zealous group. While religious freaks preaching about end of times and eternal punishment weren't uncommon in Flea Bottom, the blue robes had a different method for their gospel. While the rest of the missionaries in Flea Bottom tend to sing endless praises or tell bone chilling stories about their gods to turn sinners, the blue robes were secretive of their god only true followers were permitted the privilege of knowing who they found worthy of worship.

Blue robes travel in pairs wearing dark blue robes with lace sleeves and veils shrouding their faces offering handmade invitations to people they've watched. The owner of the diner has tried to force them out plenty of times when they loiter in the diner. He used to threaten to beat them bloody every time they showed up, but they must of known he was a cowardly man who liked to play the role of a stronger one. Because no matter how loud he shouted or what weapon he brought out to wave in their faces they stood dutifully never moving an inch. It seems today however the blue robes have observed enough as they pull their veils over the top of their heads in unison revealing a man and woman with wide smiles each of them missing their right eye.

"Hello dear sapphire," they said in unison "Father wishes to welcome you home," with each of them holding a corner they hand Y/n a green letter with an indigo seal.

"I'm sorry...what?" Y/n asked

"Father requested for us to help him find his gem," said the woman. "We've told him of you and he is pleased," said the man "And now he wishes for you to come home," they finished together never dropping their smiles.

"Sorry umm, but i don-,"

"This invitation is special," they said. "He wishes to meet you personally it's a gracious offer," they started to sound desperate their smiles beginning to twitch a bit. Y/n looks between the two of them trying to keep a friendly smile as her breathing becomes a bit frantic.

"That's...kind of him, but I'll have say no," Y/n said giving the two an awkward smile. The man and woman begin to shake their once jovial faces begin to twist into that of dread.

"Please please just see Him once? Just come to see Him one time" the woman begged. Y/n eyebrows knit together glancing between the two as their now frightful eyes fill with tears.

"I don-''

"Please don't say no He's expecting you to come you have to come!" the man shouted. They both began to shove the invitation into Y/n's face their tearful eyes staring into hers frantically.

"Alright," Y/n says slowly reaching out and taking the invitation. "Tell your...father that I'll come just this once," the man and woman instantly return to their bright expressions.

"Thank you sapphire Father will be pleased," they say together before pulling their veils over their faces in unison and leaving. Y/n paused as she looks down at the letter. What the hell just happened? Y/n gathers herself and opens the letter.

"My dearest Sapphire, I have been looking for you and wish for you to attend a special dinner with me. I have left you a present in your apartment please wear it for me tonight my gem, Your dearest love ~A"

At the bottom of the letter there was the time of the dinner, an address, and money for transport.

"In my apartment? They've been following me home too?" How Y/n has never even seen them on her street before and she always double checks behind her on her way home. How'd they even get inside she always triple checks all three locks so no one breaks in. There's no way they've actually been in her apartment right? When Y/n finally arrived at home all of her locks were still in place and when she walked inside her apartment everything looked completely untouched not one thing out of place except for a velvety indigo box with blue roses on her bed. Attached to the box was a note reading "For my dearest sapphire." Inside was an elaborate emerald green dress with split sleeves and a layered skirt. The sleeves were lined with lace and the skirt had intricate golden flowers embroidered on the hem and bodice. Y/n stomach was turning. They had gotten inside how did they get inside? Should she move? Where would she even go? Even if she had the money to move would they just follow her there too?

"Just one night," Y/n breathed. "One night shake his hand give a smile and leave. I can do that just one night."

The address took Y/n into the city of Kings Landing. She had been saving up to move here, but she didn't dare dream she would actually have the opportunity to even visit. Dreaming for things out of reach was dangerous in Flea Bottom. Hoping for more than one was born to usually lead to trusting the wrong people to take advantage of your desperation. Y/n arrived at the location it was a towering fortress bigger than a cathedral. Y/n went up to the giant armed blue robes standing guard almost tripping on her dress invitation on hand.

"Hi I'm Y/n I got a invited today to meet with the uh Father?" she said holding up her invitation while doing her best to apear tall and confident.

"Welcome to the Red Keep Sapphire," the guards said in unison. They open the gates and lead Y/n deep into the Keep. Passing through long hallways and twisting stairs till they reached double doors. Inside was a luxurious room with hardwood floors. The room was lit with candles and decorated furniture fit for royalty, but what caught Y/n's eye the most was the man standing in the middle of the room. He was a tall man with a domineering presence and a sapphire for a left eye. He wore black well fitted trousers and what looked like black ceremonial robes. The robes had intricate blue embroidery on the sleeves and collar.

"Hello my dear Sapphire," he said walking up and embracing Y/n. Y/n's body became rigid as she awkwardly returned his hug before pulling away.

"Hi um...thank you for inviting me," Y/n said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"It's lovely to see you again my dear. I've missed you," he said. Y/n backed up a bit at that.

"What do mean? This is the first time we've met," Y/n said. His smile slowly began to fall only to quickly returned as he grabbed Y/n's wrist and lead her to a small locked box. It was a simple brown wooden box hidden under a part of the floor carefully wrapped in velvet cloth. The box had magnolias engraved into the front Y/n's favorite flower.

"Don't worry my dear I know just what you need to help you remember," He reached into the sleeve of his robes and pulled out a small key to unlocked the box. He gently cradled the box and gingerly opened it. Reaching in he pulled out a small piece of sapphire and handed it to Y/n.

"Do you remember now dear sapphire?" Y/n stared at the jewel. Why did it look so familiar. The sapphire was crudely cut into a strange shape like a crooked tear drop. Where had she seen this before? Y/n rotated the rock before she perked up snatching the matching half out of her pocket. She fit the two pieces together forming a heart.

"Aemond?" Y/n said with an endearing smile meeting his eye. Despite her realization she could still hardly recognize her childhood friend. Aemond had grown out of his curly hair that he use to demand Y/n detangle while he read to her. He was even missing his adorable freckles that got darker when they napped together in the sun.

"My gods Aemond!" Y/n said throwing her arms around him. Aemond put his arms around her waist holding Y/n tightly leaning into the crook of her neck like he used to.

"What are you doing here? This is a weird place to reconnect. We could have met at a restaurant or something you didn't have to rent a room from the blue robes to peak my interest," Y/n said smiling up at him. Aemond chuckled.

"I didn't rent a room my dear. This is our home and I've finally made it perfect for you stay," Aemond said stroking Y/n's face as he began to smirk.

"Stay why would I- what do you mean stay?" Y/n said pulling away from Aemond.

"This is your new home my sapphire exactly as I promised we would have last time we saw each other," Aemond said passionately. He grabbed both halves of the sapphire and held one piece to his heart and placed the other to Y/n's hand before pushing it to hers as well just as they did all those years ago when they first promised themselves to eachother.

"Don't you remember our perfectly beautiful home filled with devotion, happiness, and children to love?" Aemond said leaning his forehead into Y/n's. Y/n's body becomes stiff as she tries to lean away.

"Aemond that was a long time ago. I mean we were children when we made that promise," Y/n said laughing awkwardly.

''I know my love and I've kept our sapphire with me everyday since then to keep you in my heart and remind me of that promise," Aemond said.

"Aemond please that's very kind of you, but you can't just appear out of nowhere after years and expect me to live with you," Y/n said fully backing away from Aemond. Aemond's jaw began to clench as he stared into Y/n. His brows knit together and his breath becomes more uneven. Before he could express his grievances Aemond was interrupted by a horn sounding off. His face relaxes a bit.

"Perhaps my dear sapphire you must see the fruit of my labors to fully embrace the home I've built for us," Aemond says. He the turns to a near by chest and pulls out two intricate headdresses. The one he places on his head was black with a large sapphire in the top of it. The headdress had thick black spikes that sat slightly behind his head like sun rays with smaller sapphires along the base of them.

"Come my dear we must dress properly for the occasion," Aemond said as he walked up to Y/n gingerly placing the other headdress on her head. Y/n's head piece was similar however hers had small emeralds connecting thinner golden spikes that were a bit more curved connected by a forehead piece with a big emerald in its center.

"What occasion?" Y/n asked

"The return of the Mother," Aemond said with a smirk leading Y/n out of the room through a hidden door in the wall. Aemond and Y/n walked through dark passages lit with only candle light until they reached a large door. Aemond looked back at Y/n his smirk growing as he opened the large door to reveal a sea of a congregation all of them prostrated before the alter they now stood on. Y/n gasped she didn't know that there were this many blue robes she hadn't realized how far their reach had gone no one did. The sanctuary was filled wall to wall with blue robes all without veils every last one missing their right eye. When they saw Aemond and Y/n they all immediately stood to their feet their faces filling with an endless joy as they all desperately scrambled as close to the alter as physically possible.

"Aemond what is all of this?" Y/n whispered. Her face was contorted with anxiety and her breathing becoming quick.

"These are our loving children as promised my sapphire. They've worked hard and have stayed loyal to build the perfect home for their Mother," Aemond said with a wide grin. Aemond put his arm around Y/n's waist and led her to the front of the alter. The closer they got to the edge the more blue robes leaned in to see her.

"My sweet children," Aemond said loudly. "I promised you a Mother. One that is loving, one that is gentle, one that will make you whole. I promised you that if you prayed for Her. Worked hard for Her. If you bled for Her that She would come home. That She would bless us all and fill us with Her light. And She has returned home," Aemond said stepping a bit to the side and pushing Y/n more to the front. The blue robes began to rouse with excitement, but Aemond cuts their celebrations short.

"However my loves though She has seen your loyalty seen your devotion She does not believe that it is enough and wishes to abandon you once more," Aemond said. Y/n curtly turned to Aemond face full of a mix of distress and confusion. The crowd erupts with sounds of agony. Some collapse others weep openly they all look to Y/n.

"No Mother you can't leave you have to protect us!"

"Please Mother don't leave us! You can't!"

"Father promised he promised you would stay!"

"I promise to work hard until I bleed for you Mother please stay!"

"Yes Mother we'll bleed for you we swear it!"

The blue robes claw at each other climbing and crawling on top of each other to get just that much closer to Y/n. The ones closest to the alter began to reach for Y/n. Some of them grabbing and pulling at her skirts to keep her from leaving. Y/n stares into to crowd gazing into all of the distraught faces filled with tears all of them begging screaming for her to not leave them behind. Y/n made eye contact with a young woman who looked to be slightly younger than herself. She was heavily sobbing and shaking clinging desperately to the front of her skirt as if she would drop dead were she to let go. Her eye was heavy she looked as if she had been awake for days. She had that same face Y/n saw in the mirror everyday. The look of someone in their prime being used up until there was nothing left begging for someone anyone to save them from the constant agony they've been forced to endure for daring to be born in the wrong place

"Please Mother don't leave!" she hiccuped. "I've tried so hard to make sure you'd come home please Mother I need you!" Y/n felt as though a boulder was dropped into her chest. Her head began to feel as though it was filled with static. Her eyes began to brim with tears. It became hard to focus to even think properly. Her thoughts would string together only to unravel into nothing. The young woman attached to the front of her dress began to crumple to the ground as everyone stirred into a frenzy someone had tried to climb on top of her in an attempt to reach Y/n. Y/n reached out as quickly as she could and embraced the girl squeezing her tightly to her body holding the back of her head delicately. The congregation fell silent instantly all of them frozen as they stared at Y/n. Y/n breathed heavily gazing over the crowd. Over her new children.

"You have done well," Y/n called out.

"I-I will stay with you my children. Please please don't cry," Y/n said her voice starting to break. "I will stay I will protect you so please don't be scared...don't cry," Y/n said. She began so stroke the young girls head as the girl now silently cried in the crook of her neck

"Thank you Mother thank you," the girl said pulling back to look Y/n in the eyes with a relieved smile before returning to her spot in front of the alter. The rest of the crowd quickly went from teary eyed to jovial. Faces once wet with tears of anguish are now reassured with the promise that their Mother will stay with them. Aemond walked to the front of the alter next to Y/n and places his arm around her waist. He puts his hand to Y/n's face and uses his thumb to wipe away her tears just starting to fall. He then leaned gently against her face and kissed her cheek before he addresses his congregation once more.

"Our family is now whole my children. Your Mother has come home for you as promised let us rejoice!" Aemond said. The sanctuary filled with cheers and singing celebrating the return of Mother. Y/n looked around the room at her new children in disbelief and awe with. Aemond smirked proudly leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"Welcome home my dearest sapphire."

Sooo that's all I have for now. I had a ton of fun writing this i forgot how much i enjoyed writing fics!! If you enjoyed it please let me know and don't forget to reblog and like. idk If I'll add more to this or if anyone would be interested in more of this so let me know i guess

[buddiebeginz]

it's funny because aside from the crazies the normal BT fans don't like the scene because it's confirming this relationship is very much just extremely casual and about just sex. this situationship is gonna end in s8 for sure. oliver knows this as well which is why he doeosn't touch this shit wiht a ten foot pole also the way they harass him and ryan in his dm's and attack ryan and they're shocked oliver blocks their asses when they attack one of his best friends whom btw both oliver and ryan are already captains of a ship which pisses them off i'm sure.

I honestly can't wait to see that nothing of a ship go down in flames. That fandom has been insufferable to deal with and not just for the Buddie fandom but like you pointed out some of them have harassed Oliver and Ryan and even journalists. They've also spammed the 911 accounts with B*mmy comments and they message Tim all the time.

I have no problem with people who ship something different than me but I really can't wait for T*mmy to be gone because ever since that ship became a thing the entire 911 fandom has been worse off.

I blame Lou and his cameos for some of this though because if he hadn't been feeding into their delusions and giving them attention some of the more zealous ones might not have gotten as out of hand as they have. I also think without the cameos those fans might have had a more realistic picture of where things were headed. Instead some of them firmly believe that s7 was setting up T*mmy to be Buck's endgame love interest.

I get being hopeful and rooting for your ship but they completely ignore what's actually being shown on screen while somehow also acting like canon is the only thing that matters. Make it make sense. 🤦‍♀️Like they attack people simply for celebrating Eddie as a queer character because they haven't said he's queer on the show so that's not allowed. Nevermind the fact that no one said Buck was queer before season 7 but he still is and has been. They call us delusional for still shipping Buddie and wanting to see them together yet Buddie had way more screen time than B/T. And what screen time they did have was also some of the most important Eddie and Buck had all season. Their relationship came out of s7 deeper than it has ever been.

Mostly I just hope that they're not going to attack Oliver and Ryan when that ship inevitably ends. Because Buddie or no Buddie I 100% don't see B*mmy lasting beyond s8. I know they'll blame us but I don't want to see Oliver disappear from social media when a portion of them get smacked in the face with the reality that this was never meant to be a long term ship. I wish they'd realize this is why he's not promoting that ship. He knows to some degree where this storyline is heading and he doesn't want to get peoples hopes up.

[clangenrising]

Month 9 - Leaffall

Scrap still wasn’t used to eating animals with fur and feathers and everything. She wished that these Clan cats had kibbles or sausage or cheese. Luckily, Branchbark had taken her fishing that morning. She was terrible at it, but he wasn’t that bad and had managed to snag her a small river fish he called a dace which she had scarfed down so quickly she had nearly choked. If she weren’t so worried about upsetting her new hosts, she would have devoured the entire prey pile, fur and feathers be damned. 

Now she sat on the edge of the little clearing, grooming her paws over and over and over again. Last night, Goldenstar had come to her and discussed the possibility of her joining the Clan, officially changing her name and becoming one of their ‘warriors’. She couldn’t imagine herself being a warrior, a fighter. She pictured Razor and his bruisers, or even Van Pelt and the other zealous Chaff, and her legs started to shake. But Goldenstar had assured her that being a Clan warrior was very different from that. If she wanted to, she wouldn’t be required to fight so long as she helped keep the prey flowing and the dens clean and that didn’t sound so bad. Goldenstar had even offered to change her name which was an exciting idea. 

After a bit of thought, she had agreed, and Goldenstar had told her there would be an official ceremony the next day. Scrap was consumed by nerves. She couldn’t help but worry she would muck the whole thing up. What would the Clan cats do? Would they laugh at her? Would they beat her? Starve her? All three? Branchbark had assured her no harm would come to her but, any time she sat still, the thoughts began to overflow. 

And so she sat, grooming her paws over and over and over again. 

Nearby, she spied Branchbark’s friend, Oddstripe, grooming her- his kits similarly. It was still odd to Scrap, being so close to a pretender like that. Back home, Razor would have taken the cat’s massive ears or worse until she had renounced her foolishness. But here she was free- he was free to do as he pleased. Dammit! She had to remember! He, he, he, he, he. She was a he, or- curses! He was a he. Shaking her head, Scrap gave herself a few quick whacks over the head to try and drill it into her brain. 

“Oh, don’t do that,” Oddstripe said, startling her. 

“Sorry,” Scrap said quickly, pulling both her paws beneath her. 

“Oh, It’s alright,” Oddstripe said, blushing. “I didn’t mean- I just meant it makes me sad to see you hurt yourself like that.” 

“Yeah, you gotta be nice to yourself,” chirped the fluffiest of the kits. 

“It didn’t really hurt,” Scrap laughed anxiously. To tell the truth, she liked the pain of it, it was satisfying in a way. 

“Okay,” Oddstripe said gently, “As long as it doesn’t hurt.” 

“Papa!” the girl of the litter whined, “My feathers aren’t right!” Oddstripe turned back to his kits and leaned down to help fix a series of cardinal feathers into the kit’s fur. 

“Here,” he said, placing a few more licks over her shoulders to get the feathers to lie straight. “How’s that?” 

“Better,” frowned the girl. “Thank you, Papa.” 

“Look!” the blue boy whispered loudly, “Goldenstar’s coming out of her den! It’s time!” 

“Shh! She’ll hear you!” hissed the other boy. Oddstripe chuckled and gave them a few more licks over the head. Scrap gave her own paws a few more licks, wincing slightly as her tongue pulled at the skin her previous grooming had made raw. She pulled her paws underneath her and curled her tail close around her, hoping to be as small as possible until she was called upon. Her eyes flitted across the camp to Goldenstar who was speaking softly with Scorch. 

Scrap swallowed dryly. In the time they had shared the camp, Scorch had mostly avoided her, thank the folk, and had not been nearly as smooth and gregarious as she was used to. Still, it seemed she had once again found favor with the local leader. She wondered if Goldenstar had the same kind of fondness for her that Razor had. Given their tolerance for pretenders, there was a decent chance they didn’t mind that kind of behavior either. There had always been rumors Scorch went both ways so Scrap wouldn’t be surprised. 

After exchanging a few words, Goldenstar bunched her powerful muscles and leapt onto the stone above her den. Scrap flinched as Scorch’s eyes fixed on her for a moment. Thankfully, they just as quickly moved away as Scorch turned and padded to the edge of the clearing and settled down. 

On top of the stone, Goldenstar raised her tail and called out, “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Stoneperch for a Clan meeting!” Her voice cut clearly through the open air of the plains and soon all of the cats had emerged from their dens to listen. Scrap felt a strange prickle of unease when she realized how relaxed they all were. Some were excited, sure, but none were afraid. It was like she had stumbled into a garden meeting somehow and she felt intensely out of place. Unconsciously, she gave her tender paws a few more licks. 

“Today,” Goldenstar said, smiling proudly, “We gather together to name three apprentices, the first since we survived the Red Gut plague and my first as Leader. I know we have all been looking forward to this. Naming new apprentices is a sign that our Clan is still strong and thriving and lets us look forward to the day three new warriors are welcomed into our ranks.” Looking down at the kits, who were fidgeting by their father, Goldenstar said, “Barleykit, Sparrowkit, Floodkit, would you please step forward?” 

The two boys bounded eagerly into the middle of the clearing, staring up at Goldenstar with their tail tips curling excitedly. The girl paused nervously until Oddstripe gave her a gentle nudge forward and she scrambled to stand between her brothers.

Goldenstar purred, “The three of you have reached the age of six moons and today you will begin your training to become warriors. Sparrowkit, from this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Sparrowpaw.” The fluffy brown tom grinned and nodded, puffing up his chest with pride. Scrap watched the ceremony enthralled. What strange traditions these Clan cats had. 

“Russetfrond,” Goldenstar said, and Scrap followed her gaze to a burly ginger tom with handsome cheeks and cardinal feathers in his tail. “You have proven yourself to be a dedicated and loyal warrior and I believe it is time for you to take another apprentice. You will mentor Sparrowpaw. I hope that you will teach him to focus his enthusiasm into a similar dedication to his Clan.” Russetfrond grunted with a nod and stood to join the apprentices in the middle of the circle of cats. He leaned down to touch noses with Sparrowpaw who beamed up at him, golden eyes sparkling. 

The rest of the cats suddenly called out, “Sparrowpaw! Sparrowpaw!”, startling Scrap. She took a deep breath and held her ground, wishing there was something close by to hide under. 

Once they had finished, Russetfrond murmured in his apprentice’s ear, “This way.” Laying his tail over Sparrowpaw’s back, he guided the young cat off to the side to sit and then the ceremony continued. 

“Barleykit,” Goldenstar said, causing the kit in question to squeak and straighten herself. “From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Barleypaw. Your mentor will need to be able to teach you a warrior’s skill and how to have confidence in it, and for that reason, I have chosen Yarrowshade to be your mentor.” The creamy ginger cat who had greeted Scrap at the border sat up excitedly, seemingly surprised by the news. “Yarrowshade, I expect you to look out for Barleypaw and help her grow into a brave and powerful warrior.” 

“I won’t let you down,” Yarrowshade said, moving to touch noses with Barleypaw. Again, the cats began to cheer the young cat’s name until she and her new mentor moved off to the side - the opposite side, Scrap noted. The final kit of the litter squirmed in anticipation as he waited for Goldenstar to resume.

“Floodkit,” she said, “From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Floodpaw. After some consideration and discussion with Nightfrost and your father, I have decided that I myself will be your mentor. I look forward to working with you to teach you the skills and mindset of a warrior.” 

Floodpaw was stiff with excitement as Goldenstar leaped down to touch noses with him. The cats raised their voices again to chant his name. Goldenstar smiled, giving her new apprentice a playful cuff over the ear, and then leapt back up onto the Stoneperch. Scrap’s stomach flipped when she realized that she was next. 

“In addition to these new apprentices,” said Goldenstar, “we are proud to name a new warrior. While Scrap has come to us for protection and would be welcome to stay regardless, she has expressed interest in taking a warrior name and learning to follow our code.” Scrap tried to lift her head proudly but she couldn’t manage to rise from her crouch and ended up feeling like a ridiculous turtle. 

Goldenstar continued, “Now, the last time I inducted a cat into the Clan, I changed the words of the ceremony in order to make them more comfortable and I know that that upset many of you. It was never my intention to permanently change the oaths our warriors swear or to turn my back on StarClan and I apologize for giving you all that impression. I simply did not want to ask a cat to swear to something that they don’t fully understand, especially to the death. For that reason, I propose a Soft Oath that new cats can swear. The oath would allow them to take a name and participate in Clan duties until they feel comfortable swearing the True Oath that our warrior apprentices will swear. Are there any objections?” 

Cats shifted, considering the thought. The big ginger tom, Russetfrond, opened his mouth and then closed it. 

After another moment, he said, “No, I see the logic in that.” 

“Agreed,” nodded Nightfrost, the big she-cat who seemed to be second in command. The rest of the cats all nodded or shrugged, except for the elderly Healer sitting near the edge of her den who sat silently, eyes closed. 

“Good,” Goldenstar sighed in relief. “With that in mind, Scrap, could you please step forward?” Scrap flinched at the sound of her name, instinctively. Forcing herself to stand and step forward. The moment she left the safety of the crowd, her skin began to crawl. An overwhelming compulsion to clean her pelt began to tug on her brain. It felt like a fog was closing around her psyche and it took all of her effort to stare through it and focus on Goldenstar’s voice.

“Scrap,” said Goldenstar, “is it your wish to join RisingClan as a warrior, to learn our ways, and to serve your fellow warriors?” 

Scrap had agreed to this last night, but somehow her throat wouldn’t move. Fighting against her own nerves, she managed to eke out a shaky, “Yes.”

“In return, the Clan will serve you in kind,” said Goldenstar. “Would you like to take a new name or keep the one you already have?” 

“Um,” Scrap shifted. “A new one, please.” She had no attachment to her name. It had always been a point of mockery for her, or a term of derision. She honestly wondered what these strange cats would think to call her. Suddenly, she was struck by the fear that they would give her something even worse than scrap. Why hadn’t she considered that sooner? They had all been so kind, but that didn’t mean-

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you a warrior name. From this day forward, you will be known as Aldertail. Your resilience and bravery shine through and we welcome you as a member of RisingClan.” 

The cats cheered her new name. “Aldertail! Aldertail!” The cries were slightly less enthusiastic than those given to the kits, which was to be expected, but they surprised her nonetheless. She looked around in awe. Goldenstar jumped down again and pressed her nose to Scrap- no, Aldertail’s forehead gently. Aldertail blinked up at her, unsure what to do. 

“With that our meeting is concluded,” Goldenstar said to the crowd then, more softly, she added, “I hope you like the name. I tried to pick out a good one.” 

“I’m sure it’s a good one, your excellence,” the new warrior said, bowing her head. 

“No need to use titles,” Goldenstar reminded her, “we’re friends here.” 

“Right!” winced Aldertail. “I’ll remember, I promise.”

“It’s fine, really,” Goldenstar said with a little laugh. 

Floodpaw, who had been waiting nearby, finally decided to cut in. “Goldenstar, can we go do battle training or something?” 

“Ah, yeah, sure, one second,” Goldenstar said, looking down at him. “Why don’t you go grab the others and we’ll talk about what we want to do on your first day.” 

“Okay!” he nodded and sprinted off to the spot where Russetfrond was talking with Sparrowpaw. 

“I have to go,” Goldenstar said, “but make yourself comfortable. Our home is yours now too.” 

“Thank you,” Aldertail nodded. “I will.” With that, Goldenstar headed off, and the rest of the crowd dispersed as well. Branchbark and his friend, Ospreymask, approached. 

“How are you feeling?” asked Branchbark. 

“Good,” Aldertail said, feeling nauseated. 

“Your name is so perfect!” chirped Ospreymask. “Your tail looks just like a catkin!” 

“A what?” Aldertail asked.

“A catkin!” Ospreymask said, “They’re the flowers that hang from alder trees.” 

“Oh,” she nodded in response. “That’s what the name means.” 

“Have you never seen an alder tree before?” Ospreymask asked. 

“We don’t get many trees in the city,” she said, shaking her head. 

“We can show you one,” offered Branchbark. “They might not have a lot of catkins on them though.” 

“S-sure,” Aldertail nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.” 

“It’s no trouble at all,” he smiled. “Come on!” 

The two Clan cats turned and led the way out of camp and Aldertail, turning her name over in her head like it was a toy, followed. She wasn’t sure she was happy, but she felt better than she had. Perhaps she could put the horrors she had seen behind her, out here in the open fields. Perhaps she could bury Scrap and start over. She liked the sound of that.

UPDATES:

Scrap joined RisingClan and took the name Aldertail. Floodkit, Sparrowkit, and Barleykit have been made apprentices! Floodpaw was apprenticed to Goldenstar Sparrowpaw was apprenticed to Russetfrond Barleypaw was apprenticed to Yarrowshade

[astrolovecosmos]

The 9th House: Spirituality, Religion, Rituals

Part 1: Aries - Virgo

Aries in the 9th house can be impulsive and righteous with their beliefs. They won't hesitate to fight for them. At times this may indicate an opinionated or zealous person, but Aries in this House may also easily get impatient or burn through beliefs and causes. Spirituality may be focused on what works for the self or one's desires. They can be adaptable and open-minded in some ideological and academic realms - their passion and fiery nature geared towards learning and teaching. Introspection can be a complex subject for them, tending to either lack it or have an overabundance of it. Aries in the 9th may find empowerment through higher education, traveling, teaching, studying, religion, or through a belief system. They likely aren't creatures of habit or strict ritual, and they may get a thrill out of learning about how other's tick, their culture, their values. Some with this placement may also be competitive with their beliefs or may have a short-fuse in philosophical debates and discussions. This is the warrior in the house of theory, knowledge, and religion and they are ready to play that role.

Taurus in the 9th House may be big on "believe it when I see it." They can be highly realistic and may be stubborn with their ideals and philosophies. Taurus in the 9th may have a strong skeptical side. They may also have a close connection to nature, finding inspiration or value in it, or even spirituality. Despite a practical or rigid approach to ethics, they can be very patient and willing to listen or at least be level-headed when dealing with others' beliefs. This placement can easily fall into materialism or greed, valuing hard work, loyalty, and reliability but also pleasure, reward, and security of the self. They may want the status of certain degrees or schools, or be most interested in the fashion, food, the tangible aspects of a culture or place. Their spiritual world and their hunger for knowledge is strongly connected to the physical world. Taurus is a routine sign that craves comfort, from this they can find it challenging to get into a different mindset or set of rules in terms of beliefs. They may crave belief systems that have a lot of structure. This sign can also be about beauty in life and peaceful ideologies.

Gemini in the 9th House can be incredibly curious and open-minded in the areas this house influences. They were likely the kid who always asked a million questions in school or church. But they can also be argumentative or opinionated about their beliefs. They may love a good debate, but that can sometimes go overboard into heated arguments. While Aries may act as a warrior or crusader for their beliefs, Gemini can also put up a fight for their ideals, especially via arguing. Gemini in the 9th can also have a talent for spreading the word, teaching, and persuading others to see their side of things or to follow different ethics. This placement may love to try new practices or rituals for the fun of it or for educational purposes. Someone with this placement who is very devoted to a faith or philosophy may still be open to new ideas or to learning about others spirituality or values, even if they are vocal about theirs being the "right one" or "best one". This placement could also struggle with the depth and focus this house sometimes demands. The 9th House is of long-standing vision and goals, study, theory, bettering the self or expanding horizons, abstract or very tangible beliefs and consequences. Introspection, patience, focus, depth, possibly planning or at least seeing the big picture work well in the 9th House's sphere. Gemini is a scattered, fast-paced, impatient, possibly shallow sign that is focused on the daily gossip, facts, or problems. Gemini in the 9th can swing back and forth from conformity to questioning. They may have a great love/hate relationship with things like higher learning, the media, storytelling, and long-distance traveling or foreign affairs. Overly simple beliefs or beliefs that can encompass a lot of variety and change may make sense to them.

Cancer in the 9th House may take things personally easily. This sign indicates a very deep and emotional connection to beliefs, spirituality, and growth. They may be very private about their beliefs. They can be loyal to their ideals and may have strong rooted beliefs that come from traditions or parents. They may also insist that their family should follow their same ethics. Cancer in the 9th may feel most at home with beliefs that are more understanding or that can stir emotion. Beliefs that promote introspection, looking to the past or at heritage are connected to them. They may be protective over their beliefs or those who share their values. Beliefs that can give them security, reassurance, and structure are likely of interest to them. Religion or a certain philosophy may encourage them to be more kind, compassionate, giving, or forgiving. Their spirituality can be a great source for inspiration. Cancer in the 9th may not long for faraway travels and may not desire the boasting rights of going to an impressive university. Cancer in the 9th finds a lot of growth and fulfillment from their family, community, or through more heart-to-heart relationships.

Leo in the 9th can be passionate about their beliefs. They may also be leaders in some form when it comes to their ideals or spirituality. Maybe this is seen by them inventing new and popular rituals or through preaching and teaching. They can certainly have pastor, priestess, or cult leader vibes. They may also act as a role-model by following their beliefs faithfully and/or hopefully. Leo in this house can be either open-minded or closed-minded with their beliefs, but whichever approach they take they are likely to make this clearly known. Leo in the 9th House may be outgoing and brave about their values or spirituality, or it may be a distinct part of their personality. Even without a personal planet in this house, Leo creates an atmosphere that encourages powerful and strong beliefs, ethics, or meaning. Those with this placement might find a lot of confidence through their philosophies on life, relationships, and humanity in some form. Feeling stable and inspired by their beliefs, through the knowledge they take in, or through their travels and exploration is important to them. Not feeling secure or feeling dull here can be a great source of struggle or pain. This placement might also find empowerment through beliefs or the exploration and learning about beliefs, culture, foreign affairs, and the world. The self-centered and stubborn part of Leo can make them blind at times to certain teachings. They may also be too focused on the big picture of things; they may struggle with details and important steps of a belief system. Getting carried away or easily disillusioned with beliefs may happen. They may need to be careful about becoming too biased, zealous, self-righteous, or power hungry in this area of life. This sign is very generous, and this may be someone who helps and takes impactful action due to their beliefs.

Virgo in the 9th House can be a studious placement that thrives in higher education or an intellectually challenging or stimulating environment. They can have a special devotion and interest or even obsession towards religion, spirituality, or philosophy. Their patience, humility, and need to help or be useful may be compatible with many beliefs and be a virtue in their practices. Virgo's need to always be improving may manifest in self-help verbiage and beliefs or be a source of meaning and inspiration for them. However Virgo's perfectionism and judgment may distance themselves from their spirituality or distract them from what they truly enjoy and/or believe in. Virgo in the 9th house can manifest as being highly critical of their beliefs and others. They may feel like they need to prove themselves through tasks, study, or sacrifice. They can be highly habitual and routine in their beliefs, traditions, or rituals. Virgo's overthinking may cause moments of frustration, misunderstanding, or confusion surrounding their own beliefs. They may easily swing from doubt to dutiful. Their wired mind may lead to unease, nervousness, or existential crises. But through spirituality or following an ethic code this placement may find a lot of depth, reward, and contentment. They need a sense of moral stability and a way to constantly understand and analyze the world. They may be cautious and practical when it comes to travel and worldly themes. But they can also be adaptable and clever in that area. Their curious yet grounded traits can lead the way in the 9th House.