#depiction of injuries

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

[bucketwritingpail]

Voice Crack Pt. 1

Prolouge

Adrenaline coursed through Danny’s veins as he made the mad dash to Wisconsin. Vlad had been right, they had turned on him. He could still hear the shrill whine of his mother’s blaster as she aimed it at his chest. He could see the tears in Val’s eyes as she told him to leave before she destroyed him.

Danny blinked away the memories, the tears they had brought getting lost to the wind and the rain.

His injuries were screaming at him, vying to make themselves known. Wisconsin never seemed so far away. A searing pain, like a fire lit against the skin of his abdomen, sent him careening into the trees below. Branches and twigs tore at him as he fell, each clawing for a chance to leave their own mark on the ghost boy, stopping only when the ground itself rose up to meet him.

And suddenly he didn’t feel the pain anymore. He knew he should. There was a pool of something warm and wet spreading out from beneath him, which definitely wasn’t good. It could just be the exhaustion mixed with the adrenaline. Right? Maybe he just maxxed out on pain and his brain decided to turn off the voicemail. Except all that was worse.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt, he could fix this. His bag had landed a few feet away, if he could get to the first aid kit he could put himself back together enough to get to Vlad. He was sure of it. He would be okay. He always ended up okay.

No matter how much he stretched, how much he told his body to just get the hell up and grab the kit, he couldn’t. All he could do was lay there as the pool of liquid beneath got deeper and deeper. He was going to die here wasn’t he? For real this time. No more second chances. No more transforming in back alleys, no more going back to being alive. This time he would just be gone.

He should have listened to Vlad. Or at least told him what he was planning to do. He should have listened to Jazz, should have taken more precautions, should have had an actual plan. There were so many should have’s, so many thing he could have done differently. But instead he put his faith in the ghost hunting fanatics. The parents who had accepted him in almost every other timeline, and now he was bleeding out, alone, in the middle of the woods, unable to even sit up. Helpless to do anything but think about all the things he hadn’t done right.

Then a light broke through the black. Small at first but soon blinding in the dark and the rain and the trees. For a moment Danny thought it might be that white light everyone warns you not to go towards when you’re dying. Which was ridiculous in this situation, Danny couldn’t even sit up much less move towards something.

Then it started moving towards him, and he worried just a little bit more.

But then there was shouting too, as the light got brighter, and footsteps. And people. Maybe he wasn’t dying. Maybe he was saved. He let his eyes close as the relief washed over him. Someone had found him.

There were hands sliding around his limbs, then he was moving. The pain bloomed across his body with a new vigour. Their movements were sharp and jarring. What little air had been left in Danny’s lungs escaped with a painful gasp, and a bad feeling formed in his chest that screamed danger, but he dismissed it. He’d been found, he was safe.

They finally stopped in a bright area and Danny was set down on a hard surface, the back of his head hitting hard against it and lolling to the side. Then there was a prick in his arm. It was hardly noticeable through all the pain, but it felt like a… a needle.

That- why was there a needle?

Danny forced his eyes open, just to check. He was sure everything was fine. He was- he was safe now.

The men in white suits milled around in his vision just as something heavy clamped around his wrists.

He was not safe.

A grinning face leaned in close as Danny tried and failed to struggle free.

“Sleep well abomination, you’ve got a big day tomorrow,”

Danny woke slowly this time.

The gradual return of his senses brought alot of pain though. He couldn’t even count all the places that hurt. He was sweating bullets, his sheets soaked through. (huh, sheets, those were new.) ‘

He was still breathing, that at least was a good sign. He focused on keeping his lungs doing that and his eyes stuck shut as he took stock of his surroundings, he was in a new place, he had to be careful.

The ever present smell of antiseptic was potent, barely masked by the faint citrus scent he had picked up on last time he was awake. There was also a faint buzzing in the air, accompanied by the slow beeping of medical equipment. He could exactly where each line pierced his skin to connect him to the accursed things. He couldn't feel anyone watching him though, making this the perfect time to escape.

In an Instant, Danny’s eyes were open and he began the arduous task of removing each and every one of those needles and tubes. Ridding himself of whatever poison those bastards were pumping into him. There was a ridiculous amount of them, monitoring literally everything that could be monitored, like whoever had put them in didn’t even know what they were looking for. Idiots.

Once they were all off, Danny swung his legs over the side of the cot he’d been put on. (No straps either, must be more security measures than he could see. That or they were getting cocky. Danny hoped for cocky.) Sitting up so fast had caused a headache to bloom behind his eyes, but he pinched it back, it was just another pain to deal with later.

This room was sparse but still a lot better than any of the other GiW holding cells he’d been in. In fact, it was set up more like an ICU than a holding cell. A row of cots lined one wall, and shelves stocked to the brim with medical supplies on the other. It was… different. They usually just shoved him back in a dingy cell that hadn't been cleaned in months, after messing with him.

“You’re awake.”

The ectoplasm in Danny’s blood ran cold, his breath catching. He had been certain the room was empty. His back was to the door, so he couldn’t see whoever had spoken, but his mind was wiring almost as fast as his eyes darted around the room, searching for an exit, any chance of escape. He couldn’t get caught. Not now that he’d been seen up and moving, trying to get away.

The walls were probably coated with a ghost repellent, no chance of phasing through them. No vents either. The door behind him would be the only exit, but with it blocked fighting would be his only way out. Could he do that? Could he have the energy to actually get out. There was no doubt there were more agents. Getting past whoever was in the doorway would only be the start. Could he do that? Really?

Danny forced himself up onto wobbly legs. He could. Fighting was what he did best. He’d had two years of practice. He took a steadying breath ( It was a real testament to his nerves that he hardly felt it past his chest) and turned around, coming face to face with… a girl?

She looked about his age, but with a sandier, more monochrome complexion. Her eyes though, they were a piercing, icy blue. They cut into him, sharp, critical. Danny felt himself wobble a little under that unnerving stare, but the girl didn’t say anything, didn’t move even, just stared.

Danny took a shaky step back, then another, keeping his eyes on the girl the whole time. Every step was harder than the last, every breath was worse. Each pass of air rubbed at his throat, stinging like the biting wind during flight. Each movement was a battle against gravity to maintain balance and to lift his feet just enough to shuffle backwards. His feet dragging against the course concrete, the cold of it sending shivers up his spine.

A stray power chord was all it took to throw his hard won balance to the enemy, and he stumbled. The backs of his knees collided with something hard, and gravity, ever unsatisfied, took hold and brought him down.

Searing pain struck like lightning through his body, Stabbing pains where his skin pulled and twisted across his chest. Fire burnt deep in his muscles, the tense pressure all along his arms and legs, he swore he heard popping. It all hit him at once, shoving the air out of his lungs in one dizzying wave. He gasped for air but that hurt too.

“Are you alright?” The girl’s voice was much closer now. Danny opened his eyes (He hadn’t realized he had screwed them shut) to find her face mere inches from his.

He cried out, or he tried to. He felt the air pull from his haggard lungs. He felt it push through his throat, tearing and burning, but all he heard was a raspy hiss as he scrambled backwards over the cot he had fallen on, kicking out with both feet as he went. His first kick landed with a weak thump against something soft, the second sailed straight through the girl’s torso, sending a shiver through his whole body. Then he fell over the side of the cot, twisting violently and landing on his right shoulder, hard. He definitely heard popping this time as he rolled onto his hands and knees and scrambled away.

He heard her say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Probably an order to stop. Danny kept crawling. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, he just wanted away. Preferably before reinforcements showed up.

He reached a corner and stopped. Two stone walls met seamlessly in front of him. The angle perfect and smooth, as if the room had been carved from the rock rather than built by it. Just like his parents’ lab. Just like the corner a much smaller Danny would tuck himself into while his parents worked.

This Danny wedged himself between the walls, tucking his knees up to his chin and his hands clasped behind his neck. He looked back. The girl was advancing on him, looking much less happy than before. Her form was blurring at the edges, particles swirling around her in an angry cloud, almost like smoke.

“Hey,” she said, voice tinted with a forced sounding sweetness to hide the rougher tone that sat just left of anger. Danny knew that tone, knew what it meant when people spoke to him like that.

We promise not to hurt you Danny.

We’re glad you're here Phantom, don’t worry it’s just a few tests.

I promise I won’t be angry, Daniel, just come here.

His body moved on instinct. He just grabbed and threw.

Whatever it was sailed right through the girl’s forehead.

There was a second when nothing happened, just silence. Then the cloud swirled faster and faster as she descended on him, filling the room in seconds. There was no more forced compassion. Her anger and indignity was almost tangible in the air. The overwhelming emotions pressing in on him as cold bursts of air tore themselves from his chest.

The girl was gone, but she was still there, swirling in the cloud as the pressure built and built. Danny clamped his hands over his ears and pulled himself into a tight ball. Hot tears ran down his face as he did everything he could to block it all out. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t- why did he think he could fight this. Fight them. It all ended the same. Always back on that table. Trying only made it worse. Why- Why -why whywhywhyw-

Then it stopped. The pressure in the room eased substantially, and it finally felt like he could breathe again.

“Robin!” the girl cried, her tone suddenly cheerier, “He won’t listen to me,” she whined, “I’m trying to help and he won’t let me!” there was a pause. Danny didn’t dare uncurl himself enough to see why.

“Secret…” Someone started

“What happened?” A slightly higher voice cut in. It was laced with a sort of clinical calm that set Danny’s nerves on edge.

The girl huffed, “Why are you mad at me? He’s the one that won”t let me help!” Danny flinched, he could feel the new eyes turn on him. He just wanted them gone. He wanted to be gone.

There was a deep measured sigh before the second voice spoke again. “We’re not mad at anyone,” they said in a carefully regulated tone, “I just need to know what happened so I can know how to handle this.” Handle? Was the owner of that voice his new handler? What happened to agent H? No, no it didn’t matter, he couldn’t go through anything like him again.

“Oh,” the girl said, “Well, he woke up again so I tried to talk to him, but then he, like, freaked out and attacked me. He’s not responding either.”

A hand grazed Danny’s back without warning, he threw himself forward and batted it away with a feral hiss. The hand pulled away and he shoved himself back into the corner.

“Did you fight him back?” the first voice asked. It was alot closer. Probably the owner of the hand.

“He attacked me.”

Someone sucked in a sharp breath.

“Thank you Secret, we’ll take it from here.”

“No problem Rob!” A few seconds passed before her presence was fully gone, leaving Danny alone with two unknowns. Not that three enemies was better than two.

What was her deal? She felt- well, she felt like a ghost. The way her emotion had felt so tangible in the air around her, that was unmistakably a Ghost Thing ™. But he’d never seen a ghost like her.Not only in the way she looked but also in the way she acted. Danny had definitely never heard of any right- minded ghost (Or as right-minded as any of them were) working with the GiW. What had they done to her?

Danny tensed as something was set down inches from his face.

“Hey.” The voice was a lot softer than it had just been. It was using that same tone. “Sorry about her, Secret isn’t too great with people yet.”

“Isn’t that an understatement,” the other voice snarked. Then there was a pause and a mumbled sorry.

“I’m Robin, and this is Superboy,” Superboy? The Justice League publicity stunt? What was he doing at a GiW facility? Danny loosened the tight knot he had curled into, just enough to peek at the two people kneeling in front of him. Sure enough, he recognised Superboy from TV. The Kryptonian was the one sitting closer to him. He looked more nervous than the other one. Robin, he had said, that name sounded familiar he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“We’re here to help you in any way we can, okay?” the barest hint of a smile crossed Robin’s face. It was hard to tell if it was sinister or genuine. “We have water, if you would like it.”

Danny would be a liar if he didn’t admit how much he actually would like some. His throat was insurmountably dry which was only making breathing harder. A task that was getting more and more difficult by the minute. But that didn’t mean he could trust anything they gave him. It was probably drugged. That’s the only reason they would have to even offer. Afterall, ghosts didn’t need food or water, it was just a vanity for them. Or at least that’s what they would always say whenever he had begged for just a scrap.

Still, he couldn’t help but want.

The two were still watching him. And, well, they didn’t really look GiW. They were both dressed up in hero outfits. Superboy was obviously wearing his signature look with the jacket and the S crest. The other boy, though, was dressed like a traffic light. Yellow cape, green gloves and boots, and a red suit. Most of all though, they looked Danny’s age. What were they even doing here? This was all too bizarre to trust. Or… too bizarre to not trust?

Ancients, he was thirsty.

He risked breaking eye contact to let his eyes flicker over to the clear plastic cup they had placed in front of him. The liquid inside looked like water, but that was no guarantee. Slowly, he reached a hand out to snatch the cup. Neither of them flinched, just watched. The liquid was clear. Even with his senses dulled as they were, Danny’s were still better than most. There were no floating particles, no odd smells, no physical tells that this wasn’t just ordinary water.

He took a hesitant sip- a small one, just in case- and still nothing. It tasted like water, clean water, no dirt or minerals to hide the taste of the sedative. At least 80% sure that the water was just water, Danny downed the rest of the cup in one go, swiping the excess off of his parched lips with the back of his hand. The immediate relief on his throat was bliss, but he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had to be a reason they had given him that.

Superboy took the cup and got up.

Where was he going? What was he doing with that cup? Had that just been a ploy to get his DNA? No that was ridiculous, if they wanted his DNA they would just cut him open and take it. But then why did he take the cup-

Then Superboy was back, the glass refilled. Oh.

Danny took the cup gingerly, eyeing the Kryptonian curiously.

“Can you tell us your name?” Danny’s eyes snapped back to Robin as he spoke. Strange. Shouldn’t they already know his name? Agent H had known his name, boasted about it even, used it against him. Were these people attempting an opposite approach? Pretending to be friendly to lure him into a false sense of security? That sounded like something they would do, but something about that thought felt wrong in an unexplainable way. Whether they were playing a game or not, though, his name, that was a powerful thing to give to people he didn’t know. They had given their names though. Obviously they were codenames, but still, that was more than he’d gotten from previous agents. They had never introduced themselves, Danny had had to learn their names by listening to conversations. So maybe…

“My..” name is Phantom, he said. Except, he didn’t. He choked on the first word, his voice was raspy and cracked and his throat felt weirdly full as he took a sip of water and tried again. “My-” It wasn’t even a whisper. His throat was burning as if set on fire. He was moving his lips, forming the words, but nothing was coming out. Even though he could feel the air moving through his throat. Robin only looked, disappointed? Sad? As he watched Danny struggle for his words.

Danny was only vaguely aware of his breathing getting faster and faster. Each breath bringing only more fire. His hands flew up to clutch at his throat, maybe to check it was okay, maybe to stifle the increasing speed, but there was something wrong. It felt wrong, it- One of his fingers slipped into a channel, feeling the ridges where his skin met with some rubbery material.

Ancients, there was a hole in his neck.

His lungs kept pulling in air at a rapidly increased rate. Why? He was a ghost, ghosts didn’t need oxygen. It was a non-necessity and all it did was hurt. He just- he needed it to stop.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me okay?” Robin said, trying to soothe him. Danny tried to look at him, but there was a light flickering just behind his head. It was just- on and off, on and off, again and again and again and again- Danny looked away. His gaze fell on Superboy. He was glaring at Robin.

“Here, try to match my breathing, okay? In for six, hold for three, out for six. Got it? Again.” Robin was demonstrating the technique, trying to get Danny to follow along. But Danny didn’t need to breathe, he needed to stop.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re at Mount Justice, the old Justice League base. We rescued you on a mission. You sustained multiple injuries from your captors. Chiefly to your voice box, we had to install a laryngectomy tube so you could breathe, but you have to calm down before you damage it further.” If Robin thought that little infodump would calm him down, the dude seriously needed to work on his people skills.

It was only by some miracle that Danny managed to get it under control. He started by matching Robin’s pace, then slowing it down until he was hardly breathing at all. For some reason that seemed to worry them more than the hyperventilating. There really was no pleasing some people. He chugged the rest of the water to hopefully relieve his throat a little.

“Hey, hey, hey, you still need to breathe, okay? You can’t just stop.’’

“Back off Rob.”

“Not now Superboy, I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t think you do. Back off a little.”

Danny flinched away from the yelling, curling back into himself just a bit more. It would be nice if they could both leave, actually. Danny had a lot to process right now, and their bickering wasn’t helping. There was already so much noise, and their voices were getting louder, and that light was still flickering just at the corner of his vision. On and off and ON and OFF and ON AND OFF AND-

The door flew open with a loud bang, there was a streak of red and white light then-

“Morning! How are you feeling dude? These two bothering you? Are you hungry? Want a snack? I have Trail mix, Mars Bars, chips, fruit leather, and a granola bar. I just came form school though so they aren’t the good ones y’know? Just the gross high calorie ones that Max makes me carry around in case of emergencies. Actually- scratch that. You probably shouldn’t eat those unless you have, like, a suuuuper fast metabolism. They might, like, destroy your liver or something. That or give you the sugar high to end all sugar highs.” The boy was in Danny’s face before he had even had time to process his arrival. A buzzing started in his ears, getting louder and louder as the boy talked, his fire engine red hair bouncing with each wide gesture he made.

Danny pressed himself further against the wall, willing his body to just go through it already. Anything to get him away from all this.

The buzzing sound hitched, then something lurched in Danny’s chest, and suddenly he was falling. Falling through the cold stone and away from the noise.

He landed in what looked like a supply closet, amongst seemingly endless rows of dusty shelves and unopened cardboard boxes. It was dark, though, and the floor was cold, the chill was grounding. The buzzing had stopped, leaving him in total silence. It was nice. He almost didn’t want to try standing or leaving. Maybe he could just stay here for a bit.

He crawled under the nearest shelf and curled up with his back pressed against a heavy crate.He shivered as his exposed skin made contact with the frigid stone. The only thing separating him from the floor was the thin hospital gown he had been changed into at some point. The front was soaked with blood and ectoplasm, which were probably the stitches he’d popped earlier. He pulled at the fabric a bit to see if that was a now problem or a later problem. He settled on later. Just the thought of getting up now made him feel nauseous.

Which meant he probably wasn’t escaping anytime soon. Even with the new knowledge that walls were not, in fact, ghost proofed, if he didn’t even have the energy to sit up and look through a few boxes, then he definitely didn’t have the energy to phase himself out of the- Robin had said they were in a mountain? Yeah, that wasn’t happening. He couldn’t even feel the ectoplasm under his skin, the ever-present, comforting hum wasn’t in his chest anymore. That buzzing had been the closest thing he’d felt to it since that third week when they had started the operations.

One hand found its way to his neck, bare fingers ghosting over the uneven ridges left behind by careless stitches. He could still smell the rubber, feel the sting of the antiseptic, see the leering grin on his face as they poked around his chest cavity, knowing just where to squeeze to force a scream.

He shook his head to dislodge the memory. Ancients, Ancients help him.

—------

He woke up later, back in the cot. The lines were returned to his arms and face. The light was still flickering. There were no people.

There was a glass of water set on the side table, next to a note.

‘We’re sorry. You are safe here. We promise.’

Danny didn’t know what to believe anymore. He crushed the paper into a ball, and threw it away.

Ahhhh, i know its been literal months since i posted the og part, but ive been working really hard on this and i finally think im ready to post it? Maybe? It will not be a quick update schedule bevause im always changing things, but i hope you all like it.

[rainyyyyyyyyyy]

resource guarding blues, by me

[an-albino-pinetree]

Today is the Winter Solstice! The longest night of the year, and in my family, more important to celebrate than Christmas :]

My solstice gift to me is this really self indulgent festive doodle

I got really lazy with the background so tackiness levels are at critical I am so sorry-

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I love this blog so much :0

I was wondering if you had any fics where Crowley's and/or Aziraphale's wings get clipped or broken?

Thank you! <3

Hello! We have a #wing injury tag you can check, and here are more wing injury and wing loss fics. Mind the tags on these, folks!...

7:41pm by CaspianTheGeek (M)

When Aziraphale disappears from Crowley's arms, the demon needs to find him. But it's not as easy as he would hope. "“Crowley. Crowley something’s wrong.” It was a whisper. Aziraphale’s eyes looked pained. He watched Aziraphale seem to shimmer in front of him. No. He tightened his grip on the angel. “Crowley, something is pulling me, I can’t. I can’t-” Aziraphale looked at him, fear growing in his eyes. His hand came up but it was already shimmering again. Crowley forced back memories of Aziraphale in a bar on the day of the apocalypse. “I’ll find you, Aziraphale. I promise I’ll find you.”"

To Build a Home by 1Lunabug7 (T)

They thought that they were safe, they had tricked the entirety of Heaven and Hell after all, but after Aziraphale suffers a traumatic event, leaving him mute and unable to move without assistance, Crowley realizes that they will never be safe. Now, he has to take care of Aziraphale and not crack under pressure. Will Aziraphale ever be the same again?! Or will Crowley lose him, as well as himself, forever?!

The Sins of Love by FeatherBlack (T)

Crowley goes missing for a decade and Aziraphale isn't sure whether or not he should be worried. That is, until Crowley crashes onto the floor of his shop in a state almost worse than death.

To Plant New Seeds by momentia (E)

It's sometime later, still dark or maybe dark again, when the door to his flat opens. He wakes, startles, then whimpers. Every tiny movement feels like the knives are still hacking away at him. Where was their cold efficiency then? No, they'd wanted him to suffer. They'd succeeded. "Oh." That voice again, and in the room this time. Crowley would weep, but he's not sure when he last stopped. "Oh," Aziraphale says again, "oh, Crowley." "They took them," Crowley moans, pitiful even to his own ears. "They took my wings."

Crossing a Line by Bookwormgal (T)

The world should have ended four years ago. That was how it was written. The Great Plan was very clear on that much. Six thousand years after the creation of the world, the Anti-Christ would arrive on Earth. And after his eleventh birthday, when he came into power, he would lead the demons into the Final War. All of humanity would perish while angels and demons clashed in one final glorious confrontation. But no one had accounted for a few little snags. Like a couple of traitors. Or a disobedient Anti-Christ. And then, as if the Apocalypse not happening wasn’t already bad enough, Heaven and Hell couldn’t even punish those to blame for that entire mess. That was unacceptable. If Michael couldn't have the promised War and if she could not kill at least the demon involved, then she would at a minimum make him suffer. She could at least make him suffer until he wished that holy water could end his miserable existence.

Behind Glass by EdosianOrchids901 (M)

After a summoning, Crowley manages to stagger back to the bookshop and collapse into Aziraphale’s arms. He’s incoherent, injured, and clutching a pair of bloody scissors. What exactly happened to him, and how did he escape?

- Mod D

[knightmareaceblue]

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

Index

AO3

Ugh, Tumblr -_- I'm going to have to split this chapter in two. Consider this part one, and part two will be up in a jiffy.

Also, I have not yet seen the Victim episode, but I feel this is a good time to mention this will be non-canon compliant as of the Box. I'll add that to the tags later.

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

The first rays of a new summer dawn trickled through the window, stretching across the tidy room until their warmth caressed Purple’s face. They stretched, yawned, and rose out of their bed the same way they did every morning. As if everything was perfectly normal.

As if there wasn’t a ghost sleeping in the next room over.

Shaking off the thought, Purple pulled themselves out of bed to begin their typical wake-up routine, basking in the early morning warmth before it could give way to the intense heat of midday. The rest of the house was blanketed in unusual stillness. The only sound perforating the blanket of calm was the sweet serenade of songbirds fluttering outside the window. Their music kept Purple’s mind still as they went through the same motions they did every day: select their clothing, make their bed, get dressed, grab their phone, do their hair. As they brushed back their violet locks, Purple couldn’t help but frown as they noticed dark shadows reflected under their eyes; testament to a night spent drifting in and out of torturous what ifs. Nowhere near as dark as the ones under Mango’s- King’s eyes, but certainly enough to concern the doddering Old Man.

Well, it was nothing a little make-up wouldn’t fix. They were probably a little out of practice, but Purple certainly remembered how to blend the right shade of concealer to hide any… unsightly blemishes. Their fingers drifted from their hair to their cheekbone to gingerly rub at the skin around their eye, then trailed down further to the ugly bruise that marred their face. Honestly, Purple was sorely tempted to hide the reminder of yesterday’s chaos too. But that would raise questions, and questions were the last thing Purple wanted right now.

So instead they performed one more quick check to make sure no hair was out of place, then made their way from the bedroom to the bathroom. The rest of the house was unusually still – Purple was an early bird, but Mango- KING’S abnormal sleep schedule usually had him up before the sun rose, so it was rare that Purple was the only one awake in the house.

Of course, before Mango didn’t have his real-

Purple pinched the skin on their wrist sharply at the thought. No. Bad Purple. They were supposed to be better than that now. With firm focus, Purple kept their eyes glued to the door of the bathroom across the hall and managed not to so much as glance at Gold’s door. It didn’t even occur to them that they’d been holding their breath in their effort to concentrate until they shut the door to the bathroom and exhaled deeply. Their arms pressed against the doorway felt… oddly heavy.

It was fine. Nothing some coffee wouldn’t fix. But first things first, Purple had to take care of their gross morning face. First they washed up, simple and easy. The sharp sting of the cold water had the added bonus of shocking the last dredges of drowsiness out of their brain, allowing them to focus on the task at hand. Dry face, mix concealer, apply in soft layers until the shadows under their eyes disappeared completely. Purple stared at their reflection for a long moment, then forced a smile.

…No, too big. Didn’t look natural. They tried again, and this time the smile on Purple’s face was smaller but brighter, with little dimples beginning to form around the edges. Much better. They nodded in approval before turning away from their reflection to return to the stillness of the house.

There was still no stirring from Gold’s room, so Purple crept past the Ochre family and into the living room, where their friends had spent the night. Sometime during their slumber Green, Blue, and Red had gotten tangled up into a mess of limbs on the floor, which was adorable enough to bring a much more genuine smile to Purple’s face, and well worth the risk of getting caught snapping a photo of the trio on their phone. Yellow had been forced to spend the night in the armchair, and was reclined back as far as the chair would let her. In the absence of the staff to hold on to, she’d instead somehow maneuvered her pillow from underneath her head into her arms, and was clinging to it with all her sleepy strength. Meanwhile Second, on the couch, had their fluffy blanket wrapped around them tightly, hiding their slumbering face from view. The only thing visible was their long mane of orange locks, which after a night of slumber had somehow managed to become even more wild than usual.

Purple sidled past their friends, smiling fondly after them, then turned to the kitchen and froze in place at the sight of the ruins. Ah, right. Somehow, in the midst of all the chaos of yesterday’s events, it had slipped Purple’s mind that the kitchen had been caught in a frantic electrical tornado.

Well, shoot. Where were they going to get their cup of morning coffee now?

A soft groan from behind them caused Purple’s ears to perk up. They spun around in time to see Second stirring within the blanket they’d burrito-ed themselves in, peering through bleary eyes up at the intruder on their slumber.

“Mm, Purple?” They grumbled, voice scratchy in their grogginess. From where they were standing Purple could see dark circles beginning to form under Sec’s eyes and a pallor tinge to their face. It seemed like Purple was not the only one to lose sleep that night.

“Sorry, Sec,” Purple whispered, doing their best to be mindful of their volume, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Second shook their head, the movement slow and uneven, “S’okay, I’ve been in and out all night anyways. Do you have any more blankets? Sorry, ‘m a little cold.”

Purple had already taken a step forward to check, but the full meaning of Second’s words suddenly hit them and they paused. Cold? They were cold? It may have been early morning, but it was also the middle of summer. The sun wasn’t even full up yet and it couldn’t have been cooler than 25 degrees Celsius. Warning bells rang in Purple’s ears, but they did their best to compose themselves as normally as possible as they fetched the house’s last spare blanket. Only delaying to check if the blanket was clean, Purple then brought it over to the couch, stepping carefully around the sleeping pile of tangled sticks to lay the blanket over Second. They sighed and snuggled into their pillow, eyes fluttering shut yet again, and Purple took this opportunity to lay their hand on Second’s forehead.

“Purple?” Yellow’s voice called from nearby. They didn’t respond this time, too focused on the task at hand, “Hey, Purple. Is something wrong?”

After a moment, Purple withdrew their hand, frowning as the warmth lingered against their palm, “Sec’s running a fever.”

“They’re sick?” Suddenly Yellow was sat straight up, her brow furrowed in clear worry. She quickly shifted her gaze from the couch to the friend pile on the ground, and unlike Purple she had no qualms about interrupting their peaceful slumber, “Guys, get up! Now! Sec’s sick!”

“Sick…?” Green repeated tiredly, his sleep addled brain struggling to process the concept. Blue was up in a heartbeat, quickly detangling herself from the others and climbing over both the couch and Purple to check for herself. Red and Green were a little slower to rise, taking the time to make sure their separated limbs were in their right places before rising to join Purple and Blue at Second’s side.

Blue hummed and hawed, before gradually withdrawing her hand as well, “They’re right.” An oddly haunted look crossed her face.

Even Red was gnawing at his own lip in worry, “But… Sec never gets sick!”

It was only natural that everyone would be worried after yesterday – especially since Second was only barely able to sit up on their own by the end of the night – but the immediate fear from everyone in the room was… concerning, to say the least. “It’s probably just from overexertion,” The violet stick tried to reassure their friends. None of them so much as looked at Purple, all focused on the slumbering stick on the couch, which didn’t ease the growing pit in Purple’s stomach. It was as if the anxiety was contagious, “I’m sure they’ll be fine-”

“You don’t understand,” Yellow piped up. Unable to hover as the others did, she leaned forward in the armchair with her shoulders tensed, “Sec NEVER gets sick. Never. Like, once we were exploring a snowy biome, and SOMEONE-” Though Yellow didn’t specify, Blue and Green glanced briefly towards Red before returning their attention to Second, “thought it would be a good idea to collapse our bridge and drop us straight into a frozen lake.”

“…well, the bridge shouldn’t have been so icy, then.” Red mumbled, as if that explained the thought process behind dropping himself and his best friends into deathly cold water.

Without so much as a glance to acknowledge Red’s assertion, Yellow continued as if he hadn’t said anything, “Even though we got changed and warmed up, like, immediately, we all get sick EXCEPT for Second. They had to play nurse to everyone else while we recovered. We all kind of assumed they were immune to illness after that.”

“You know,” Blue mused aloud as she tucked Second’s two blankets around them. “I think they probably were getting sick all this time, but their innate healing powers sped up their recovery so much that they never showed any symptoms,” She hummed gently under her breath for a beat, “But since their healing powers aren’t working…”

“What isn’t working?” Asked a familiar voice from behind, and the group turned around to find the Ochre family approaching. King, once again donning his crown, didn’t look the least bit tired for this early in the morning, which was normal for him. Mango and Gold, on the other hand, both trailed along like mindless zombies. They groaned and grumbled like zombies, too. The only thing missing was the mumbling call for braaiiins.

The gang briefly hesitated before Blue, with the air of a messenger about to be shot, answered, “Sec’s healing powers,” King’s brow furrowed in concern as she continued, “Not only are they not working, but Sec’s running a fever now.”

“Oh no,” Gold exclaimed softly, immediately shocked into full awareness. He moved past the two versions of his father to join the group in hovering over Second, taking a spot right next to Purple, “Is it bad?”

Pressure closed in on Purple’s heart as they observed Gold’s face, noting the worry lines that were creasing his forehead. It hadn’t even been half a day since he’d met everyone, and Gold already cared so… deeply. Like they’d all been best friends forever.

It would be so much easier, Purple mused, if Gold wasn’t so nice. If Gold was cold or stand-offish to them, they’d at least have a reason to feel so off around the kid. But of course the universe couldn’t grant them that. No, instead Gold had to be just the sweetest person, on top of being a master martial artist and a flourishing social butterfly. It was almost unfair. And the worst part was even though they knew how genuine Gold was being, it didn’t stop that sour sickness sloshing around inside them, burning every organ as it cried for violent release. Nor did any of that quench the strange desire to reach over and force those lines to smooth into serenity.

Thankfully, Purple was smart enough to only act on one of those instincts, and clasped Gold’s shoulder in a gentle attempt to offer some comfort. The sudden touch caused Gold’s eyes to snap up, meeting Purple’s gaze with clear surprise, though he quickly switched to a gentle smile that made guilt pool in Purple’s stomach to pair with the bitter resentment already burning them from the inside out. “Sec’s gonna be just fine,” They assured the nervous stick, “Trust me.”

Gold’s little smile grew, and Purple found their own growing to match it.

“So what are we supposed to do about this?” A voice cut through the moment, and both sticks turned to find Mango’s critical eye on the lot of them. “My expertise is mechanical engineering. I’m no doctor, and I doubt two years have changed that.” He cast a side eye towards King, who returned the look with a neutral gaze. “If there is something serious going on, they’re going to need-”

“If you’re about to suggest a hospital,” Green interrupted, his eyes narrowed in on Mango with thinly veiled distrust, “then forget it. We’re NOT taking Sec to one of those places.”

Mango folded his arms, staring down Green with the same look King would give Purple when they managed to successfully bypass his attempts to get them to do doddering housework. Credit where credit was due, Green wasn’t intimidated in the least, returning his glare with equal fervor. The air was electric with the spark of tension. Neither backed down.

King pushed himself between them, putting his hands on Green’s shoulders to push him away from King’s past self. He then turned his attention towards Mango, “Under normal circumstances, I’d agree with you. Getting a professional involved would be best.” All four of the friend group exclaimed in protest, then were shortly after cut off by King raising a single hand in an obvious command of silence. “But this isn’t normal circumstances. If Second’s powers are malfunctioning, I highly doubt a doctor would be able to help any better than we could.”

“And we wouldn’t let you, anyways,” Yellow retorted sharply, angry eyes hidden behind the glare of her glasses, “We’re not about to let some stranger do whatever they want to Second without our supervision. THAT is not happening.”

Blue and Red nodded firmly in agreement. Both had moved to take defensive stances around the couch, prepared to protect their vulnerable friend from whatever may come. All the while Gold and Purple were caught in the middle, stuck between a rock of a friend group and Mango’s hard glare.

Then, with a huff, Mango relented. “Fine,” He agreed, and the others relaxed a little. His full attention then redirected to King, “If you’re going along with this, I assume that means you have a plan of some sort?”

King’s eyes shifted away. “My plan is to keep these children from charging out into the wild with an ill stick trying to avoid the hospital.”

“So that’s a no.” Mango responded, massaging a brow sore from furrowing too much.

Silence buzzed in the air between them as everyone wracked their brains for an answer to the pressing questions of ‘How do you heal healing powers?’, and honestly, Purple was stumped. They’d always thought they were good at riddles, but this one was just the tiniest bit out of their wheelhouse.

“Too bad we don’t know any experts,” Gold mumbled grumpily.

Like a bolt from the blue, Red shot up straight and gasped aloud as what could only be described as a burst of inspiration hit him “The Chosen One!” He cried, and Purple could hear the crack from Mango’s head spinning to stare at the excited stick, “They’ve got superpowers just like Second’s! We could ask them!”

“The Chosen One!?” Mango repeated incredulously, “You mean the Animated Terror?! The Burner of Bandwidth?! One half of the DEADLIEST duo of cyber-terrorists to have EVER razed the web?! THAT CHOSEN ONE?!”

Blue smiled sweetly, “Yeah, that guy.”

“No, wait, that’s actually a good idea.” Yellow piped up, stroking her chin in thought. Mango’s eyes all but fell out of their sockets. “Chosen One may be the only one who actually knows how Sec’s powers work. If we consult them, I bet they’ll know what to do.”

Gold’s eyes darted between them, confusion clear on his face. In a split second he’d pressed against Purple’s side, whispering conspiratorially, “Umm, how do your friends know a cyber-terrorist?”

A small twinkle of amusement lit up Purple’s eyes as they responded, “Oh, they’re Second’s dad or something.”

“Excuse me?!” Mango snapped around to direct his stare at Purple, and suddenly being in his line of fire cause the violet stick to flinch back. The bruise on their jawline suddenly ached, and Purple gripped at their shorts to keep themselves from scratching at it. A sudden pressure on their shoulder jolted their attention to Gold, whose hand offered offered grounding firmness. He smiled as their eyes met, and Purple couldn’t help but smile back.

Mango had a good kid.

“Well, it’s less they’re ‘Sec’s Dad’,” Yellow punctuated the words with large air quotes, “And more ‘Second exists because the Chosen One’s creator drew them and they inherited code from the Chosen One that brought them to life… somehow’.”

“They are ‘The Chosen One’s Return’,” Red noted with a hint of laughter in his voice. A mischievous smiled graced his lips. “Never really thought about what that meant until Sec’s powers came in.”

Twisting on his heels, Mango directed his burning gaze at King. “Did you know about this?”

“No one told me specifically,” Those words were accompanied with a sideways glance at Purple, cocked brow and everything. Purple matched his amused energy by playfully sticking their tongue out at the Old Man, “But I’d had a few theories on what they were the ‘Second Coming’ of. Nice to have one of them confirmed.”

“You… theorized about Second?” Green asked with a disturbed monotone.

“Of course,” King casually responded as he leaned against the wall, a teasing smile growing upon his face, “Purple and I gossip about all you kids, in fact. It’s one of our favourite pastimes.”

Purple’s face began to burn. Ooh, that traitor! What they theorized about the five’s crazy lives was between the two of them and nobody else! “Lies!” Purple immediately accused, hoping their face wasn’t as flushed as it felt. They quickly moved in between King and the friend group, who were staring at them like they were the star clown of this circus attraction. “That Old Man is nothing but a dirty liar! He- he doesn’t know what he’s talking about! He’s going senile!”

“Senile, am I?” King piped up with an air of amusement, sauntering past Purple and Gold to take a look at Second himself, “Well, that’s fine by me. Go ahead and put me in the old folks’ home. Of course, while I’m enjoying bingo, someone else will have to take care of the chores… so have fun scrubbing toilets, whelp.”

Cursors, Purple couldn’t come up with a comeback that wouldn’t end up with them doing more chores. Unwilling to concede quite yet, they crossed their arms and huffily turned away from the Old Man. From the corner of their eye they could see Gold giving his father a look, and swallowed past the dryness of their throat.

Right, they had that to worry about too. On top of squashing their own feelings and fixing whatever beef Mango had with them and figuring out what the heck was up with their friends and getting Second’s stupid powers back in order- Oh, speaking of which…

“Anyways, you guys know how to actually reach the Chosen One?” Purple asked.

“We… know where they live?” Blue answered with something of a shrug. “It’s on this cliff side with… all this… water? And these… trees? Umm…”

Red scratched his head, “Isn’t it south of the city?”

“There was this community of sticks with really thick head outlines.” Green pointed out. “It wasn’t too far from Chosen’s base.”

South… private community… trees and water… Purple spent the majority of their time in Minecraft for the past few years, so they were hardly an expert when it came to the structure of the city, but that sounded like-

“Oh! That sounds like the Avery Woods!” Gold exclaimed suddenly, pumping his arms in clear enthusiasm. All Purple could do was swallow back the words they were about to stay and ignore the bitter aftertaste, “It’s south of the city, and right by the ocean, and… big. Really, really big.”

“How big is it?” Red asked, stretching his arms out in comedic exaggeration. Were it not for the worried wrinkles around his eyes, Purple would almost think he wasn’t fully aware of the situation.

Nobody played along with Red’s sorry attempt to lighten the mood. King’s voice was carefully neutral as he answered, fully serious, “Several square kilometers – enough of an area that even with everyone searching, it would likely take days before we found the Chosen One’s abode – and that’s assuming they haven’t relocated.” A disheartening aura swept through the room, leaving everyone despondent, “Thankfully, you mentioned water. The only major body of water in or near the Avery Woods is the ocean, and it’s kind of easy to find. If someone can get to the ocean and walk along the cliff side, they’re bound to come across the Chosen One’s base eventually.” Everyone perked up along with the mood. “That still doesn’t answer the question of what we’ll do if they’ve relocated, but it’s the best lead we’ve got.”

“The only question now,” Yellow continued, “Is who’s going?”

Silence flooded the room, drowning everyone present with tension. Blue’s hands were in Second’s long mane, running through the locks in regular self-soothing motions. Neither Red nor Green seemed able meet King’s gaze anymore. Yellow looked between all of them, searching their faces while biting the inside of her lip before sitting back huffily. At their side, Purple could feel a slight increase in pressure as Gold leaned against them. His brow was furrowed as he stared straight ahead, lost in his thoughts. With everything that had happened, Purple couldn’t blame him.

Eventually, King cut through the silence with a long-suffering sigh, “I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll go alone, the rest of you stay here.”

Ice shot through Purple’s veins. “You mean you’re going by yourself?”

“Yes,” King’s answered was tinged with teasing condescension, “That’s generally what the word ‘alone’ means.”

Thousands of thoughts spiraled through Purple’s mind at once, suffocating all rational thought with a singular, familiar fear. The warm hardwood under their feet became as icy cold as linoleum, and a rhythmic beating of beeps echoed endlessly in their ears. Clenching their shaking fists tight, Purple forced out every counterpoint that came to them, “But- but, you should at least have one person with you! If you get injured or something, you’ll be out in the woods by yourself! And everyone knows if a tree falls in the forest nobody hears it scream!” King’s nose wrinkled, and he opened his mouth to rebuttal, but Purple’s stream of rambles kept him from interrupting, “Plus, you could run into all sorts of wild animals out there! This time of year, mama bears are more likely to have cubs with them, and that increased the rate of fatal attacks by-”

“You’ve been oddly obsessed with bear attacks lately,” Noted the Old Man with slight tinge of suspicion in his voice, “Have you been staying up late watching weird documentaries again?”

...Oh, right. They weren’t supposed to do that anymore; not after the ninety minute presentation on why they should absolutely invest in tsunami preparation gear had ended with Mango King gingerly explaining that they don’t live in an area afflicted with tsunamis. He’d then strongly advised them to cut back on the late night doom binges, “Uh,” Purple’s scrambled mind ended up spitting out the very first thing that it came up with, “You can’t prove it in a court of law!”

The only response King graced them with was a long-suffering sigh.

Seeing the Old Man virtually unaffected by their logic, Purple then turned to the pathos arguments, “Come on, please, at least let me tag along!” They pleaded, “I-I’ll be quiet and I’ll do whatever you say-”

“Okay, now I KNOW you’re messing with me,” King huffed. His eyes met Purple’s, and something in them seemed to soften. “Look, kid, I get that you’re worried, but I’ll be fine. The Avery Woods are big, but the danger is minimal. Most of the documented animal inhabitants are small herbivores, and the few that would pose a threat can be easily outrun or outsmarted. I have my phone, so I can call for backup on the off chance I do get hurt. You have yours too, don’t you?” Absently, Purple’s hand went to the bulging pocket that stored their cellular device, and Purple nodded. “See? I’ll be just fine. The only real threat in those woods is the Chosen One,” King then directed a nervous gaze to Green and friends, still gathered around Second like a pack of protective wolves, and directed a question to them, “The Chosen One isn’t going to, you know, kill me on sight, are they?”

Red had the gall to shrug casually at this very valid fear, “Eh, probably not?” He sounded… not so sure.

“You’ll be fine,” Assured Yellow with far more confidence than her red companion. Her uninjured leg was slung leisurely across the arm part of the armchair, which left it dangling haphazardly in midair, “Chosen One won’t do anything to hurt one of Sec’s friends They’re a little weird, but they do care about Sec.”

As if explicitly disagreeing, Green let out a huffy snort.

Yellow raised her brow at the musician, “Something you want to share with the class?”

For a moment, Green was entirely silent. His expression was deadpan, eyes unfocused in just the right way to suggest that his mind was somewhere high up there in the clouds. After a sufficiently uncomfortable amount of time, Green casually replied, “Nah, I’m good.”

This got Yellow humming curiously, but beyond that she didn’t dignify Green with a response.

“...My point is,” The Old Man got them back on track, directing Purple’s attention back to him, “That I can handle this. I’ll be fine, the only thing I need from you is to stay here and look after Gold.” His eyes, with the same bizarre softness that made Purple feel so vulnerable, stared directly into their own. “Think you can do that for me, bud?”

Purple was nodding before King could even finish, “Of course.”

A gentle smile, tired but full of affection, was Purple’s reward, “Thanks, kiddo.” He then tussled Purple’s hair with a strong, gentle hand. All Purple could think to do was playfully smack the hand off of them and hope their face didn’t look as warm as it felt.

If the Old Man’s chuckling was anything to go by, it most likely was.

“Now, you’ve got everything you need?” Purple asked as seriously as they could with their freshly combed hair a mess and their face lit up like a neon sign, “You have your cell-phone, but you might want to bring a water bottle, and something energizing to eat, like a granola bar or trail mix. We can put something together real- Oh, no, wait,” They frowned, “Kitchen blew up.”

That darned Old Man couldn’t quite keep the mirth out of his voice. “If you’ll remember correctly, someone pressured me into making an emergency wilderness survival kit.” The backpack that contained said kit was stored on the bottom shelf of King’s bookcase, which he proceeded to pull out and toss onto the nearby table, “It’s more than enough for a day of hiking the coastline.”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Purple stroked their chin as they pretended to mull the situation over, “I seem to recall someone else saying that it was a ‘waste of a perfectly good afternoon’ putting that thing together,” With a smile, Purple shrugged, “They seemed very adamant that we’d never need it, so…”

All the Old Man could do was shake his head, “Okay, okay. You were right and I was wrong. Happy?”

Purple put on their smuggest smile, just for King. “Hey, you said it, not me.” It was easy to focus on the light ribbing, the easy teasing that came so naturally to them, and not the dread still pooling in the pit of their stomach.

But as King swung the rough sack onto his back, the unease compounded exponentially. Its piercing claws desperately dug through Purple’s mind, trying to pull out all the bad thoughts that Purple had so carefully been burying throughout the entire morning. King took a quick inventory of the pack. Purple expected seeing the various survival tools might pull the breaks on their anxiety, but instead each tool conjured a corresponding thought about all the dangerous things out there in the woods that could take away Purple’s- the Old Man. And none of that even accounted for the Chosen One.

“Okay, that should be everything,” King noted, swinging the bag onto his back. He looked past Purple to Mango. “Keep a close eye on Second. If you think they need it, I have fever reducer in the usual place. Probably.”

“Probably?” Repeated Mango with a quirk of his brow.

“I tend to only buy things like that ‘as needed’ now,” Revealed King. Purple couldn’t help but tug at the fabric of their shorts. When one was seeking suicidal retribution, they tended to neglect more minor parts of their lives, like a proper livelihood. For the past few months while he’d been revitalizing his repair business and regaining the trust of his clients, the Old Man’s plate was always much sparser than the one he’d give Purple. It was only more recently that King had become a bit less thrifty, going out of his way to get Purple little gifts, like books and funny accessories.

Mango hummed a little, leveling King with a disapproving gaze that made Purple’s heart jolt reflexively, “Right. I’ll keep an eye on things here, then,” Mango’s gaze then fell to the pack crowding around the sick stick on the couch. Now that the business of who was fetching the Chosen One was settled, they’d all resumed fretting over Second with a little too much attention. The fact that they were getting so worked up over a simple fever was honestly worrying Purple far more than the fever itself.

The only response King provided to him was a nod. “Take care, kids.” He called over his shoulder as he opened the door. With the light silhouetted around him, King’s colour seemed to shift darker and bluer for just a fraction of a second, and Purple’s breath caught in their throat.

“…Dad, wait,” Gold’s sudden call pulled both King and Mango’s attention without effort. He had, at some point, moved away from Purple and started leaning against the wall, and now he was bolting forward to meet King in the middle. Mango’s eyes narrowed in on the two.

Seeing the determination on Gold’s face, Purple wondered if Gold might ask to come along, despite the discomfort of yesterday’s revelations. They wondered if King wanted him to, from the look in his eyes.

Instead of opening that can of worms, Gold wrapped his arms around King, burying his face in the Old Man’s chest. King was too stunned to respond immediately, but after a moment his own arms awkwardly lowered to return the embrace. “Stay safe,” Gold’s wish fell from his lips as softly as the morning breeze. The request brought a tired, genuine smile to King’s face.

Come on, Purple, begged something deep inside them, its nagging itch making Purple’s hands twitch. Go on and give your own hug. If the Chosen One or some other random danger took him out, this could be the last time you see the Old Man. Hug him. Hug him and thank him while you still have the chance-

“Of course,” King promised, his hands running a soothing circle into Gold’s back before reluctantly retreating, “And you do the same. Take care of Purple for me, alright?” Once Gold nodded affirmatively, King gave one last wave to the others inside and then stepped out, closing the door behind him.

Coward.

Wordlessly Purple walked passed Gold, who briefly reached out to touch Purple’s shoulder before the violet stick slipped away. They watched from the front window as the Old Man hike away from the house, from them, without a single glance back. Slowly he became smaller and smaller in the distance, and Purple watched the entire way, until the tiny dot that was King disappeared over the horizon.

There had to be something they could do to make sure he came home. Were they really about to let him go after a cyber-terrorist all on his own…?

Mango’s voice behind them, issuing instructions or suggestions or whatever, was nothing more than a buzzing in the background. The others were scurrying about behind them, but Purple paid them no mind. Their thoughts began to race as their eyes stayed glued to the spot where King had vanished. They could tail him, Purple realized. It’d be easy, as easy as pie. Granted, Purple had no clue what they’d do if King ran into any trouble, but they were smart. They could figure it out. And it wasn’t like they didn’t know where he was going, so…

THUD. “YOU BROUGHT THAT TRASH INTO MY HOUSE?!”

The unexpected noise jolted Purple out of their thoughts. It came from behind them, and the young stick quickly snapped their attention backwards to gawk at its source. The first thing that caught their eye was Blue, her mouth agape, pinned against the wall by her shirt. Mango’s tightly clenched fists shook as he kept her held up, eyes wild with blind rage. Shouting came from various corners of the room as each of Blue’s friends reacted with the expected vigor. Though initially stunned, it didn’t take long for Blue to bounce back. She gritted her teeth and wrapped her hands around Mango’s wrist, using his larger size as leverage to swiftly kicked upward. Her foot planted itself into Mango’s face with a satisfying smack. Mango’s grip loosened, allowing Blue to drop to the ground like a stone as he stumbled backwards. A weak orange hand suddenly reached out and tugged at the fabric of Mango’s pants. Under ordinary circumstances, such a pathetic grab would’ve easily been shaken off by even the most novice of sticks. But Mango, as disoriented as he was, didn’t even see Second reach out, and so he didn’t register the tugging at his clothes until he was knocked off balance, where a single toss of a pillow from the armchair had him falling to the ground with a hard, painful sounding thump.

Once upon a time, King had comforted Purple after they’d lost a sparring contest with the gang by confiding that he, too, was not much of a fighter. Every battle he’d ever won, claimed the Old Man, he’d won through quick wit and fast thinking. Purple hadn’t quite been able to believe him at the time. Who would? But seeing the Old Man waste time stumbling instead of righting himself and losing track of his surroundings so easily, suddenly the idea of him once being a clumsy sod didn’t seem so far-fetched.

Yellow glared firmly at Mango, her arms braced on the sides of the chair as though to launch herself at him. Second, with sweat beading on their forehead and mildly heavy breathing, spat out, “Calm down, you-!” before breaking down into a violent coughing fit.

At this point Purple and the others had reached their sides. Gold took point, standing over his father with crossed arms and the type of scowl that screamed ‘not disappointed, just angry’. Second’s coughing fit was eased by Green’s gentle hands running soothing circles on their back, while Red and Purple flocked to Blue’s side.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” She waved off their concern with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

“What happened?” Purple demanded, doing their best to keep their tone steady even as their heart tried to beat through their chest.

Poor Blue scratched the back of her head, sheepishness marring her normally calm expression, “Um, I guess that was my bad. I volunteered to make breakfast, and when he asked how I’d do that with the kitchen being, you know, totaled, I told him I’d use the stuff in the basement, and…”

Ah. So he found out they had Minecraft in the house. Shoot, that really should have been brought up earlier. This probably wasn’t the worst way Mango and Gold could have found out about King and Purple’s dabbling into illegal game smuggling, but it definitely wasn’t the best way, either.

“Sorry,” Blue finished off with downcast eyes.

Was Blue talking? Dang it, Purple should’ve been paying more attention. She might have said something important. But still, Purple took the time to give her a calming, sweet smile as they reassured her, “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault.”

They gave her a brief pat on the shoulder before turning their attention back to the wild beast that was Mango, whose foaming rage was only slightly pacified by Gold’s presence.

“They brought MINECRAFT into the HOUSE, Gold!” Mango was desperately explaining to the stone-faced stick that stood as a barrier between him and others, “That irresponsible- he let the thing that KILLED you into our HOME!”

“And you don’t think that freaks me out too?!” Gold snapped back, his arms flying outward in a full display of fury. One of his hands was clutched around a rattling bottle; the fever reducers, if Purple had to guess. Each bold display of anger from the golden stick was accompanied by an undermining clattering not unlike maracas. “I’m the one who actually DIED, Dad, but I’m not going around attacking people!”

When the word ‘died’ fell from Gold’s lips, Mango’s entire expression changed. The rage left him, along with any energy he might have gotten from last night’s sleep, leaving him to collapse to the floor like the broken old man he was. Purple could feel their heart pounding in their throat at the sight; like this, he was nigh indistinguishable from King.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m…” The whimpering utterance got Purple to actually wince. Not the words themselves, per se, but the raw, broken tone that they’d been spoken in. Though they’d been living together for some time, Purple had only heard that tone of voice once; just after the Final Battle in the Nether.

They’d hoped to never hear him sound like that again.

“I know, dad,” Gold consoled, kneeling down to sit on his toes next to his fallen father. One hand reached out to cut off the suppressed sobs from the stick in front of him with soothing circles, the other extended towards the nearby coffee table to put down the bottle of medicine. Once both hands were free, Gold began to focus completely on comforting his shivering dad, “I know. But you can’t just lash out like this. It isn’t fair, especially since they’ve done so much to help us.”

For a long moment, the Old Man was silent and still, leaving a ringing silence of tension in the air. Purple tried to keep their restlessness to themselves, but couldn’t quite help bouncing on their heels. From the corners of their vision Purple could make out the others standing stock still and alert, like prey on the alert for their predator. Then finally, at long last, Mango spoke, “You’re right,” He said, his voice dragged down low with the weight of his shame. Using Gold as a crutch, Mango forced himself upwards again and looked over at the rainbow of disapproval his rage had left in its wake. “I’m… sorry.”

He sounded sincere enough, at the very least. Sheepish hands scratched at the back of his head, which was kept ducked down to avoid making eye contact with any of the kids he’d offended.

Purple bit their tongue, torn emotions keeping them mute. Second, grouchy from being forced awake in their sickened condition, huffed grumpily and collapsed back against their pillow, “I guess it’s fine for now, but I’m going to make you sorry-” A cough interrupted their attempted threat, “If you ever attack my friends again-!” More coughing, eased only by Green’s gentle touch as he soothed their anger with a consoling hand on their head.

Mango, in his first smart move of the morning, nodded politely in agreement to Second’s threat, “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

With the danger passed, Yellow had plopped back into her armchair and crossed her arms grumpily. She was more than happy to speak aloud what Mango wouldn’t, “Dude, I’ve seen wet tissue paper that’s more intimidating than you right now.”

A flicker of outrage flashed through Second’s eyes for a brief moment. They tried to sit up, but halfway through the attempt their arms gave out and sent them crashing back into their pillow again.

Green, still sat by their side, frowned and fretted over them, “Come on, dude. Stay down and let us handle this.”

“But-” The ill stick tried to protest.

Their efforts were in vain, as Red and Blue both backed Green up with firm instances and pleading eyes. Again, Green told them, “We’ve got this,” and tucked them under the covers yet again. With no other option, Second finally relented and settled down, though it seemed sleep had lost its hold over them, leaving no option for Second but to watch the others from their place on the couch.

Mango looked briefly to Gold before, with his approving nod, stepped forward and approached the friend group. Purple moved to stand defensively next to Blue, taking the other’s hand in a silent reminder that they were with her.

The silence stretched between them like a chasm.

At last, Mango broke through the tension with a simple but succinct, “I really, truly am sorry.” Though he was speaking broadly, all his attention was focused on Blue. Which, to be fair, was exactly where it should have been. “This Minecraft food… it’s safe to eat?”

“Yes, one hundred percent!” Confirmed Blue confidently, “We eat this stuff all the time at home. There’s still the risk of grease fire, but as long as Green’s not cooking, we’ll be good.”

With exaggerated frustration, Green shouted to the heavens, “You drop ONE doughnut and suddenly you’re the worst cook!”

“But you are, though.” Red pointed out. Something about his blunt delivery had Purple in stitches.

Green snorted and stuck up his nose, but spoiled the bit with a laughing smile. Blue patted him on the back before returning her attention to Mango, “Like I said earlier, I can handle breakfast all on my own. Actually, after everything, it’d be nice to just unwind a little bit.”

Purple felt that. They felt that so hard.

The group broke apart again. Each one had their own assigned task, it turned out: Red was gathering bedding to wash, Green was tidying up after everyone, and Blue, as promised, retreated to the basement to prepare food for everybody. Gold watched after Blue as she vanished for a long moment, almost long enough for Purple to reach out and ask after his well-being, before he snatched up the medication and handed it to Mango. The elder stick took it, but shook his head and calmly explained that Second needed food before they could give them any medicine. His face was already starting to turn reddish blue from its violent introduction to Blue’s foot.

Purple’s stomach turned at the sight. And that was just Blue. If King wasn’t careful, and his meeting with the Chosen One went south…

A scenario came to Purple’s mind unbidden: King, with a burning scar to match the bruise on Mango’s face. A smear of blood dribbling from his mouth being wiped away by his bruised up arm. Towering over him was the dark silhouette of the Chosen One, red eyes glowing against the shadows. They would hold out a palm, from which a plume of fire sprouted, illuminating their face. You shouldn’t have come here alone, The Chosen One would say in their deep, villainous voice. Maybe if you’d brought someone with you, you’d be able to go home to your (children) child alive. And then, in a flash of flames, King’s life would be extinguished.

Shivers ran down Purple’s spine at the thought. That couldn’t happen. That wouldn’t happen. Purple wouldn’t let it. Glancing around one more time to verify that everyone’s attention was otherwise occupied, Purple began taking slow, cautious steps backwards towards their room. It wasn’t hard to slip through the cracks when things got chaotic. Experience had taught Purple that all they needed to do was stay silent and calm, and they could escape the notice of even the most seasoned-

“Purple.”

Freezing at the sudden call, Purple forced themselves to slowly, slowly turn around, so as not to arouse any further suspicion. The fact that it was Mango’s voice only heightened Purple’s sense of anxiety. Desperately Purple tried to wrangle their scattered, racing thoughts. It was fine. He probably had some chore for them to do. Purple could take care of it real quick, and then skip out the back. No big deal, it was no big deal.

“Yeah?” They answered with a slight crack in their voice that caused Purple to cringe on the inside.

If Mango noted it, he paid it no mind. Instead, much like King before him, he got straight to the point, “There’s something… important I need to talk to you about.”

Oh. Purple’s heart stopped. A million theories ran through their mind about why Mango would want to have a private conversation with them. Maybe he was scrounging for more information, to find out if there was anything else King was hiding from him, and Purple would have to choose between upsetting him or betraying King. Or maybe he wanted them to answer for the chaos their friends had caused, or- or maybe-

Maybe he’d kick Purple out. Remind them that this was his house and his room and his life and Purple was nothing more than an intruder, a cheap replacement for a dead child that was no longer dead, and Purple would be out on the streets and all alone again…!

“Uh, maybe later!” Insisted Purple, hands held out to signal for Mango to stop, “I need to change my sheets and clean out your room- so we can move Second to an actual bed. And I don’t think anyone wants Minecraft stuff on the main floor right now, so…”

The logic made Mango hum, but he still pushed, “It won’t take long-”

���In that case, it can wait until everything’s settled down!” Purple reasoned. They could feel the hairs on the back of their neck tingling. A tight knot was forming in their lungs already.

“Really, it will only take a minute.”

Please, no. Not yet, they weren’t ready, please-

“Dad, they said later.” Gold interrupted snappily. Like a guardian angel he appeared at Mango’s side, suddenly grabbing on to his sleeve to pull him away from Purple, “Whatever it is, it can wait until King Dad gets back.”

Although surprised, Mango tried to protest, albeit far more weakly, “But-”

“It can wait.” This time Gold was much firmer in his tone of voice, and that, at last, got Mango to back off.

“...Alright, then.” He agreed at last, and although the dismissal of the topic didn’t dismiss all the built up anxiety it brought up, it did bring Purple a sense of relief, “We’ll save this conversation for later.”

With that the discussion was officially shelved, and Mango was called away by the sound of Green shouting a request for garbage bags. Purple exhaled sharply, releasing a breath they hadn’t been aware they’d been holding, attracting Gold’s attention again in the process. “Hey,” He greeted, “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah, uh-huh.” Purple affirmed with a confidence they definitely did not feel, “I’m fine. Just a little… worried about my friend.” It was the easiest excuse Purple could come up with at the moment and, in a way, wasn’t even a lie. They were just referring to a different friend than Gold might initially expect, “I’m, uh, going to straighten my room up so we can move Second in there. It’s a bit of a mess, though, so it may take a bit. But I can definitely handle it myself. Just… save me a plate?”

Gold’s eyes scanned them up and down, staying silent for long enough for Purple’s racing mind to wonder if he suspected anything, before Gold grinned and gave Purple a cheerful thumbs up, “Sure! You got it! I’ll make sure we leave you some grub!”

A weight fell off of Purple’s shoulders. They matched Gold’s smile and echoed his thumbs up gesture, “Thanks! I’ll see you later, then.”

With that Gold waved them off, and Purple gleefully retreated back to their- to the Old Man’s room. In complete contrast to what they’d just told Gold, the room was depressingly sparse. They had a closet to store clothing in, a table with a mirror to prepare for the day, and a bed that Purple supposed belonged to King at one point, though it seemed a little on the small side for such a tall stick. It wasn’t like Purple had much stuff to add when they’d moved in, anyways. They had some clothes, a toothbrush that King had insisted on replacing basically immediately, their collection of flowers and accessories, and, most relevantly, a backpack. Purple picked it up and briefly assessed their own emergency supply on the inside. Granola bars, a water bottle, their elytra, two rockets, some medical supplies… some of their supplies had since drifted to King’s own, and though they’d meant to replace them, Purple never ended up getting around to it. Oh well. It was too late for that now.

Everything they could prepare was already taken care of. Purple briefly patted their pocket to check that their phone was still there. Once they were sure they were ready Purple made their way to the back of the room, to the window where sunlight streamed in unobstructed; the rays warming Purple’s face as they stood in front of it. Twitching fingers reached forward to grip at the edge of the window. With sweaty palms Purple gripped tightly and pulled upward, allowing the gentle breeze to carry the fresh scent of freshly cut grass and morning dew to their face. They inhaled, and pulled their leg over the sill of the window, pulling themselves through-

And the door behind them burst open in a sudden explosion of noise. “AHA!” Proclaimed Gold, his face lit up like a Christmas tree, “I knew it!”

The sudden appearance of Gold caught Purple off guard, causing them to lose their balance and topple out the window and on to the damp grass. A small groan escaped their lips as the impact registered.

Unaware of the chaos he’d caused, Gold stuck his head out of the window after them, looking at them like he’d been told Halloween had just come early. “I knew you were going to try and sneak out!”

Oh, damn it all to the Recycling Bin! Purple picked themselves up off the ground, not even bothering to brush the dirt and grass off of their clothes as they scrambled for an excuse. “W-wait! I know it looks bad, but- but you know your dad’s an idiot, and if I’m not there to look after him, he’s going to get himself killed, so please don’t tell-!”

“Who’s telling?” Gold replied cheekily. “I’m coming with you.”

Somehow Gold had managed to pick the one option that was even worse than stopping them. “That is a TERRIBLE idea!” Purple proclaimed, “If you go missing, your dad is going to flip! And- and he won’t notice me going out, but he’ll definitely notice if you weren’t here! And besides, I promised King I’d take care of you! That means I have to keep you safe!”

“But then who’s keeping you safe?” Argued the golden child, little tidbits of his father’s aggressiveness seeping into his tone. “King Dad told me to take care of you too! As your big brother, it’s my responsibility to protect you!”

Any argument that Purple could’ve come up with died on their tongue with that single word, “Brother…?”

“Well, yeah,” The fight in Gold entirely left him, leaving him with nothing but positivity and, if Purple looked closely, a hint of anxiety, “My dad’s taking care of you now. That basically makes us siblings.”

Oh. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Admitted Purple, dazed at the mere idea. From a young age their family had been fragmented and unstable. Sometimes it had felt like they’d barely had parents growing up, what with the separate issues both their Mama and Pops had gone through. Siblings had been out of the question entirely.

“And that’s why I’m here!” Cheered Gold, already crawling out the window after Purple. Before the violet stick could even think to begin to protest, Gold hopped out and threw his arm around Purple’s shoulder. “To show you the ropes! As siblings, it’s our job to keep our idiot dad from doing idiot things. Like, you know, charging into the den of a terrorist all by himself.” Gold scratched the back of his head, and it suddenly occurred to Purple: Oh. They were probably scared about King too. Of course they were. No matter how mad he was about what his father had done, King was still his dad. It simply couldn’t be helped.

Purple couldn’t stop a little smile from forming on their face.

“So, we’ll go together,” Gold decreed, “I know there’s a risk, there’s always a risk, but… I want everyone to get out of this okay. So, please? I don’t like the idea of you going it alone, and-”

That was the last straw. Purple wasn’t sure if it was the idea of going alone that triggered it, or the genuine concern that Gold was showering them with, but they could feel their resistances gradually melting away. It was a bad idea. Purple knew it was a bad idea, and everything inside of them was screaming at them to say no. But…

“-and, and, in addition to being an accomplished fighter,” While Purple had been lost in thought, Gold had continued his attempt to persuade Purple to let him come along, “I am also a proficient jumper, and can leap sooo far-!”

Gold’s voice was rising in volume as he went on, and at this point he was all but shouting. Purple jumped forward and slapped their hands over Gold’s mouth to put the noise to a stop before they attracted… unwanted attention. “Okay, okay.” Purple conceded at last. “You can come. But ONLY if you promise to listen to whatever I tell you, and to run if things get messy. Got it?”

Unable to respond verbally, Gold nodded. A spark of excitement lit up his eyes.

If this decision came back to haunt Purple, they were going to kill this kid, King be damned. Once Purple removed their hands, Gold squealed excitedly and hopped up and down in place, smiling from ear to ear. His volume was, thankfully, much lower this time. “Okay, c’mon, we gotta get moving before someone realizes we’re gone!” His hand found Purple’s, gripping it with firm conviction, “Let’s be on our way, little sib!”

Affection wrapped around Purple’s heart like a warm embrace. King really did have an amazing- wait.

“Hold up, why am I the little sibling?!” The realization struck Purple suddenly, like a bolt from the blue. This wasn’t even the first time Gold had said that! “I’m older than you!” That’d be true even without the two year time difference, albeit by only a few months.

“Maybe, but I was dad’s kid first!” Gold’s words were spoken with a teasing tone as he continued to drag Purple along, “So that makes me the big brother!” This was accompanied by Gold playfully sticking his tongue out at Purple.

Well, if Purple was stuck in the role of little sibling, they might as well play the part. In a single quick movement they hooked their elbow around Gold’s neck and drove their knuckles into his scalp. A high-pitched squeal escaped Gold as he mimed pulling away from Purple’s grasp. He wasn’t serious about it – Purple wasn’t weak, per se, but there was no way they’d be able to hold down a silver ranked fighter if he truly wanted to escape. Affectionate laughter bubbled up out of him like smoke from a warm hearth. Not wanting to waste too much time, Purple released Gold and raced ahead of him.

It was so easy to fall into the joy of this newfound kinship with Gold that the dread caused by vibrations crawling from their pocket to their head caught them entirely off-guard, like a bucket of cold water. With a single hand Purple signaled for Gold to halt as they pulled their phone from their pocket and noted, with increasing trepidation, that the notification was for a text message. They looked to Gold, who matched their expression with one of equal unease, before inhaling deeply and unlocking their phone to view the message.

Flute Guy: WTH r u 2 doing????

Purple looked back towards the house, spotting a familiar silhouette in the window staring out at them. Swallowing audibly, they spared a glance towards a clearly nervous Gold and gave him a reassuring smile. Though they themselves felt a hint of nerves, it was a bit relieving that it was Green who caught them. Green would understand.

He always understood.

Me: Don’t tell.

Flute Guy: r u serious? Old Man’s gonna flip when he realizes u 2 r gone!

Me: Don’t call him an old man, he’s not that old.

Flute Guy: Ur kidding, right?

Me: Look.

Me: I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have to make sure King’s okay! You know how it is, I can’t lose another

Me: I can’t lose him, Green.

Purple could hear Gold bouncing on his feet. Figuring it was just impatience, they ignored it.

Flute Guy:...Fine

Flute Guy: Ill try n cover 4 u

Me: I love you SO much!!! You’re like the greatest person ever!!!

Me: <3 <3 <3

Flute Guy: Choke and die

Flute Guy: If he finds out im ratting on u. Not getting in2 trouble for ur idiot self

Me: That’s fine. Just tell him Gold and I are cleaning together, and that Gold asked for space. That should keep him at bay.

Me: Luv u!!!! Muah!

Flute Guy: -_-’ Don’t die

With Green’s blessing lifting their spirits, Purple turned back to Gold with a vibrant grin, “We’re good, let’s go!” and taking his hand. Gold had a soft frown on his face, the kind Purple knew was born from fear for his father, so they did their best to give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry! With us looking out for him, your dad is gonna be just fine! I promise!”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Gold offered a timid smile back. One marred with worry and fear, but brightened by hope. The sight of it fueled the well of determination in Purple. For the first time in their life, they had something to protect. Something worth protecting. They wouldn’t let (their) this family down!

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

Cooking was different for everyone. For Green and Yellow, it was just the best way to get delicious sustenance. Red saw it as another fun group activity, something they could do together, and if Purple’s comments about King’s lessons were anything to go by, that was how they saw it, too. To Second, it was a self-described ‘labor of love’ – not something they enjoyed, per se, but something they didn’t mind doing if it put a smile on their friends’ faces.

And for Blue, cooking was a comfort.

Every part of her body was engaged: arms stretched to gather ingredients, hands steadily adding just the right amount to her mixing pail, feet poised to quickly pivot her in whatever direction she needed. Any noise from the outside world was muted; the only sounds down here were her own movements and the swishing of the newly made Redstone washing machine Red and Green had created for laundry. Ingredients were laid out for her atop the newly minted crafting table. With the trapdoor set and Reuben curled up on a pillow with a full belly, Blue was finally alone with her thoughts.

She could take a breath…

“Guys, I dunno…” Sec’s dull eyes, lacking the familiar light of joy and creativity that they’d always been bursting with, wouldn’t meet her own. “I’m still pretty new at this…” If they could just remind Second how amazing they are, how loved they are, then maybe the shroud of fear that had hung so heavy on their shoulders would finally lift; maybe the sad, small stick shrinking into themselves would transform back into the strong, bright Sec that Blue had always known. “...and I don’t want to mess anything up…” And then they’d have their best friend back. Green knew what he was doing; all Blue had to do was follow his lead, and they’d show Sec there was nothing to be afraid of anymore!

…And measure out the flour, pouring it into a cup until it overflowed and leveling it out with a knife clutched too tightly…

Their breathing was quick and shallow, like they’d pushed themselves too hard and their body was starved for oxygen. Electricity, once dancing delicately across their skin and through their hair, now surged violently and randomly across their shaking body. Was it shocking them? Blue hoped against hope that they couldn’t feel it. “I can fix it, I can fix, I can fix it…!” Fell repeatedly from Sec’s lips as their shaking arm stretched out towards the broken picture. Second’s eyes were wide and wild, like a scared animal, and focused on the picture as though it were a predator and Second, its prey. They desperately pulled at their hair as the panic completely consumed them, “I CAN FIX IT…!” And then the kitchen exploded.

…And reach across the kitchen counter, hand fumbling around as she struggled to get hold of one of the eggs she’d laid out…

Hand in hand with Red and Green, Blue burst through the wall of wind to find Second floating dead ahead of them, hands pulling at their hair and gasping for every breath. The emerald shine of Second’s powers had completely overtaken their eyes, transforming a normally lively stick into a freakish ghoul. The sight of it stunned Blue into halting momentarily. To see Second – strong, bold Sec, who always looked out for them – looking so scared… it twisted Blue’s heart into knots, freezing her in place until Green’s hand yanking away from her jolted Blue awake. She watched as he ran forth without care to wrap his arms around Sec. Seeing how the contact jolted Second out of their petrified state spurred Blue forth, racing to follow Green, Red, and Yellow’s leads as used herself as an anchor, to bring their Sec back to them.

…and finally take hold of one of the eggs, shakily bringing it up to the edge of the mixing pail and tapping it against the side a little too lightly. The shell held firm, so Blue tapped it again. The shell held firm…

Blue groaned as she struggled to lift herself off of the hard linoleum, legs aching in protest as her old burn wounds began to ache. All of that fell to the background, however, as she forced her eyes open to the sight of Sec lying lifelessly on the ground ahead; their limbs frightfully limp, their chest horrifyingly still. Blue’s body moved faster than her mind, forcing her on her feet in spite of her protesting legs, and driving her forward to Second’s side. As she jabbed her fingers into the side of Second’s neck, a single thought replayed over and over again in her mind: Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, PLEASE don’t be dead..!

…so Blue smashed the egg down one final time, and it exploded into a gooey mess of liquid grossness all over her hand. Cursing quietly, Blue hopped away from the bowl and wiped her hand off on a nearby rag. Her breath escaped in quick, haggard huffs as she noted how her hands still shook.

A sudden pressure on her leg, too gentle to irritate her old wounds, jolted Blue out of her panicked state. She looked down to see sweet old Reuben nuzzling up to her. Upon noticing that he finally had her attention, Reuben squealed happily and redoubled his efforts, insistently demanding Blue’s attention. Blue giggled and, having no choice, gave in and lavished everyone’s favourite pig with generous pats and belly rubs. The distraction gave Blue’s mind a chance to wind down. Her thoughts slowed, her breath quieted. It only took a minute of Reuben time for Blue’s mind to completely calm.

With one final deep breath, Blue picked herself up and returned to her cooking. She took a singular egg and cracked it expertly against the side of the pail, breaking it in one go. Then repeated the process for the second needed egg.

As she began to mix together the ingredients, Blue allowed her thoughts to drift. Everything that happened yesterday… it was scary. Blue could admit that. What had begun as an attempt to help Second shake off the post-kidnapping funk had instead turned into a near death experience. When Second had been lying there on the floor, still as stone and pale as ice… for a heart stopping moment, Blue had really thought Sec might have died. The relief that had flooded her when her stuttering fingers had found Sec’s pulse was indescribable. But even though they were alive, they were still suffering so much, being in so much pain they weren’t able to sit up, and then waking up to their first ever fever…

Blue’s mixing arm came to halt as she glared into the mixture as though it were personally responsible for all that had gone wrong. When her intimidating glower failed to make any difference to the batter, she sighed and set it aside for a brief moment to stick a sugar bucket into the furnace, taking another break to reassure Reuben with more pats, and then returned her attention to the batter. Even pours made perfect circles on the cooking surface, and Blue took hold of her golden shovel as she continued her line of thought.

Of course, what happened to Second had been terrifying, but they hadn’t been the only ones hurt in yesterday’s panic. Poor Yellow was left with a twisted ankle, unable to get up off King’s armchair without aid or incredible pain. And that wasn’t even counting poor Green. With all the panic over Second’s fever, even King had seemed to forget about Green’s likely concussion, but Blue had been paying a bit more attention since she’d overlooked him yesterday, and found that Green was spacey and out of balance all morning. He was hiding it well, putting up a front when he thought people were looking, but when they weren’t Green would let the mask slip just enough for Blue to catch sight of the fog beginning to cloud his eyes; or the way he’d support himself on whatever was nearby, as though he could barely keep himself standing.

Blue couldn’t afford to be negligent. As bad off as Second was, she’d lose all her friends if she let herself get too caught up in only one of their problems. From now on, Blue would have to keep a closer eye on Green and Yellow… and probably Purple too. The worst wound they had was the bruise on their chin, thankfully, but the constant arguments between Mango and King combined with the unexpected stress of having two new housemates was certainly a lot for anybody. Blue would have to make time to talk it out with them at some point.

Not now, though. Now the sugar had caramelized into syrup, and Blue had managed to end up with a gigantic stack of pancakes while lost in thought. Her body had just shifted into autopilot and worked while she mulled over her feelings. The stack was so high it nearly touched the roof of the basement – or, rather, the floor of the ground story above her. Blue stared up at it for a long, scrutinizing moment before deciding that, yeah, that was probably enough pancakes. King was gone and had no need for breakfast, so Blue procured eight plates and began dividing up the tower of breakfast starch.

After an even split amongst pancakes, Blue found that she had two left over. Normally she’d take any leftovers for herself and eat them with a sprinkle of Netherwart, but given the circumstances Blue felt that someone else deserved it more. She knelled down on the ground to get face to face with Reuben, who had spent the entire cook time at Blue’s heels, nudging her legs with a gentle snout whenever she stood still for too long or began to panic again. Smiling, Blue presented the precious pet with the extra two pancakes, much to Reuben’s squealing delight.

“Just between us, ‘kay?” Blue winked at the little pig, who oinked once in agreement. “I know Red’s got you on a diet, so if he asks, we’ll just say the extra weight’s from worrying over Sec, alright?”

Reuben squealed loudly once more before digging into his second breakfast. His enthusiasm brought Blue her first laugh of the day, giving her the strength to lift herself up (legs were good, no pain so far) and put the finishing touches on breakfast.

Glowberries were Red’s only pancake topping of choice, so Blue added a handful to the top of his stack along with a dollop of syrup. Yellow generally preferred spiced food, so to hers Blue added a generous sprinkle of cinnamon and ginger. Green’s everlasting love of sweets meant he got extra syrup and a dollop of whipped topping, freshly beaten from a bucket of milk. Purple was also a fan of sweet food, but tended to prefer tart and bittersweet to straight up sugar. So sliced fruit went atop their stack. Blue didn’t know what Mango or Gold would like, so she just put sliced fruit on the sides of their plates and called it good. Blue’s own had a little bit of everything, as expected, with a light sprinkle of Netherwart for good measure. And for Second…

Blue frowned, pulling up her inventory to look at the only leftovers from last night’s dinner. Second’s singular slice of pizza had only a few bites taken out of it; and Second had been feeling relatively okay at the time. With a fever, Blue doubted their appetite had gotten any better.

That was no reason not to try, though. Maybe she’d be wrong, and Second would wolf down their stack of pancakes. Still, just to be safe, Blue added a cup of syrup to the side instead of just adding it on top, along with a slice of butter and a cup of powdered sugar; Second’s pancake toppings of choice. If their appetite was at its worse, then it might be easier for them to stomach the starch tower plain.

Giving Reuben one last pat, Blue took everyone’s breakfast into her inventory and climbed up the ladder. The scent of pancakes continued to linger in the air even after the breakfast had vanished, leaving Blue with a rumbling stomach. Eager to finally dig in, Blue burst through the trap door and loudly announced, “Breakfast~!”

That was all Red and Green needed to get off their colourful butts and race over to Blue’s side, crowding her like a nest full of baby birds chirping insistently for their next meal. Laughter bubbled out of Blue as she ushered her friends aside, briefly glancing past them to check on Yellow and Second. Amusingly, Yellow had partially raised out of her seat, as though prepared to also flock to Blue for her breakfast before realizing a moment too late that walking would be a terrible idea. Meanwhile, Second had barely reacted, sluggishly tilting their head up from their sweat dampened pillow. A glassiness to their gaze implied that their recovery was going… not so smoothly.

Blue didn’t let herself react. She instead moved towards the coffee table and began passing out pancakes. Yellow got hers first, and she wasted no time in bragging about her fragrant stack to the other’s. Green took it in stride, rolling his eyes as he took his own plate, and Red was soon too busy stuffing his face to really give Yellow much mind. Mango got his next, and while he did give it a thorough once over, all it took was one hesitant, shaky bite for his eyes to widen in astonishment at Blue’s amazing culinary talent. With something akin to a smug smirk growing on her face, Blue spun around to make for the bedrooms for one final delivery.

“I’ll take Gold and Purple their plates,” Mango offered as she began to walk off, setting aside his plate to follow after her. His sudden approach probably should have made Blue more nervous than it did, except that there was a dark foot-shaped bruise on his face that sucked any sort of threatening aura right out of the old man. Some part of Blue, a part she tended to bury outside of sparring with her friends, was quite proud of the wound, especially considering she had used barely any of her strength to make it.

So she nodded and removed the two plates from her inventory to hand them off, just in time for Green to jump in and snatch them both up. “Uh, best let me take care of that!” He laughed off the mildly offended glare Mango tossed his way. “Gold was still pretty sore about you freaking out earlier. He was pretty insistent about wanting space.”

This made Mango look to the side in shame; so lost in his emotions that he barely noticed Green lose his balance and stumble a bit trying to carry both plates. Blue’s brow furrowed, but as Green managed to right himself pretty quickly, she didn’t move to stop him.

“So I’ll take the plates to Purple’s room,” Green must have caught sight of Blue’s confused look, because he immediately clarified, “The two are cleaning out Purp’s room in case Sec needs to be moved, and then they’re going to do the same to Gold’s room, since it’s all dusty.” Green took a few steps back, smiling with a sense of confidence Blue was certain he wasn’t feeling before backing down the hallway with uncharacteristically off-kilter steps.

Blue’s stomach turned. “Red,” She called, causing her friend to halt mid-bite. “Can you go help Green? Just to make sure he doesn’t drop Purple’s breakfast?”

Red frowned, “But, my pancakes…”

Putting on her sternest frown, Blue crossed her arms and glared firmly at him.

Immediately Red dropped his fork on his plate, his hands stretched towards the sky in a gesture of surrender, and pushed away from the coffee table, only pausing to store his food in his inventory before trailing after Green. Yellow called after him with a faux mocking laugh as she jammed her mouth full of yet another bite of pancakes. A part of Blue felt a little bad about bullying Red into putting off eating, but someone had to watch over their possibly concussed musician, and Blue had something just as important to take care of.

Taking out the stack of plain pancakes, Blue took a seat next to Second and gently prodded them. Though they weren’t asleep, their eyes were unfocused and staring off into the distance. She reached out and shook Sec’s shoulder gently, drawing their attention up to her. Their body was unpleasantly warm under her touch; Blue tried not to think about it. “Hey, dude,” She greeted softly instead. Second stared blearily up at her, “I brought you breakfast.”

Second flopped back down onto the pillow. “’M not hungry…”

“Come on, Sec, I know you’re not feeling well,” Consoled Blue, soothingly rubbing their shoulder, “But you need to eat something before we can give you any medicine, otherwise you’ll just throw it up.”

“Kinda feel like throwing up anyways,” Complained the ill stick.

“Aw, c’mon Sec!” Yellow cajoled from the peanut gallery. She had finished her food and promptly propped herself up to watch Blue try and get something down Second’s throat. “If you don’t eat up, you won’t get any better, and then who will nag us to the recycle bin and back?”

Their voice was a low mumble as they responded, “Yer a recyclin’ bin.”

Honestly, Blue was too confused by the statement to take advantage of Second’s talking and force some pancake into their mouth, “Huh?”

Yellow too wore a baffled look on her face, “I think they were trying to insult me, but their brain’s too fried to come up with something that makes sense.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Mango had the same long-suffering sigh that King did, dragging his hand down his face in a hilariously familiar motion. In long, quick strides he reached Blue’s side and snatched the stack of pancakes out of her unprepared hands. “If you pressure them, they’re just going to want to eat even less. Just…” The food was set down on the coffee table. Mango took the fork but didn’t yet make any moves towards Second. Instead, he plopped down and presented his phone to Sec, who stared at it with a dazed look in their eye. “Here, take a look at this. It’s one of Gold’s favourite videos.”

Curious, Blue crowded around to join Mango and Second in their viewing experience. After a moment of buffering, the image of a… catgirl? appeared on the screen in a series of sharp cuts, accompanied by some non-sense song that was actually in a language Blue could understand, the lyrics were just… incomprehensible. But the music was good; cheery and upbeat, with a good rhythm that Blue couldn’t help but bop her head to. And then the catgirl? started to dance. She bobbed and weaved in simple patterns, the bulk of the work being foisted into her arm movements. Personally, Blue found intricate legwork far more impressive, but this was the type of dance almost anyone could imitate. Even Second, the two-left-footer themselves, could probably manage it without even knocking anyone over. Blue smiled a tiny smile at the thought and bobbed her head to the rhythm. It was a little weird, but there was something appealing about the weirdness.

This sentiment was not shared by Second, who tiredly peered at it with squinted eyes, struggling to comprehend just what they were seeing. “What the…?”

“What? What is it?” Demanded Yellow. She was actually pouting from the disgrace of being left out of the joke.

“It’s something Gold showed me some time ago. Pretty rad, right?” Mango answered, and something deep inside of Blue cringed. They were two years in the future, and who knows how long ago Gold had showed it to him beforehand. And ‘rad’? It was so uncool that it cemented just how much of a dad the ‘old man’ was.

But still, it was a really catchy song…

“Uh…” Second was too confused, either by the video or the fever, to respond.

Blue tapped her foot and bobbed her head to the music, making sure not to get too distracted from Second or Yellow. So she didn’t miss how Mango brought the forkful of plain pancakes up to Second’s face. So distracted was the orange stick that they didn’t kick up any protest when it was brought to their mouth; merely mindlessly opening up and taking a bite.

Oh. So that was the point of the video. Blue’s motions had halted entirely as she took in the sight of Second subconsciously chowing down. “How did you do that…?”

“Hm?” Mango placed the fork down. At this point he’d managed to get a quarter of a pancake into Second, which wasn’t super great but was better than yesterday. “Oh, it’s a dad thing. Gold can be a stubborn eater when he’s sick, too, so I’ve figured out some tricks to get some food in him. Thought they might work on your friend. Mind you, this shouldn’t be doing this outside of emergencies…” As if remembering something, Mango stood up and stretched, “They should take some fever reducer while they’ve got something in their stomach. I’ll handle it.”

He briefly stepped away, and Blue used this opportunity to check once again on her friends. With the video paused and stimulation gone, Second had curled up under the blanket once again. They seemed worn down, but otherwise not in danger of throwing up right this moment. Her attention then turned to Yellow, still pouting on the armchair, and Blue hopped over with a smile. Mango passed by a fistful of pills for Sec to gulp down.

“You okay…?” She asked in a sing-song tone.

She got an annoyed huff in response, Yellow crossing her arms and looking away. There was no real malice behind the action; While Yellow was better at keeping a mock expression than Red or Green, Blue wasn’t fooled. “I wanted to see the stupid video…” Yellow grumbled.

That little pout was so adorable, Blue couldn’t help but poke those puffy cheeks with her pointer fingers. “It was just a weird dance video, nothing too crazy,” Then, with an exaggerated glance back towards Second, Blue bent down and whispered conspiratorially into Yellow’s ear, “But once you’re feeling better, I’ll teach you how to do the dance. It’ll bug Sec like crazy if we all do it!”

Joyful snickering was Blue’s well earned reward for her joke. Making Sec suffer was a favourite pastime of everyone on the PC; even Sec themselves, though they’d never admit it.

Across the coffee table, Sec offered a half-hearted glare at their treasonous plotting. They then rolled over to direct their ire at Mango. “I don’t feel any better…”

“It takes time for the medicine to take effect,” Chided Mango. “Be patient. Now, you’ll have to take more in about six or so hours…”

“More?” Second groaned weakly.

The elderly stick tittered at Sec’s childish complaints, “If you want to get better, you’ve got to take your medicine. Once it kicks in, your fever will go down and you’ll stop feeling so crummy. Honestly, what do you normally do when you get sick?’

In lieu of Sec’s barely audible moaning, Blue chimed in, “Well, normally Sec just puts us on strict bed rest and babies us until we’re better. You wouldn’t think it from how stand-offish they can be, but they’re a real good nurse.” Seeing as Yellow and Sec were taken care of, Blue didn’t have any qualms pulling out her own stack of pancakes and chowing down.

“Then, who takes care of Second when they get sick?” The question was asked with a sense of dread, almost as if afraid of the answer.

Yellow shrugged it off, “Sec doesn’t get sick.”

“Doesn’t get…” Mango’s head swiveled between Sec and Yellow, eyes wide as he internally warred with the information. His brow was so furrowed that Blue was certain he’d start getting wrinkles to match King’s soon, “Where are your parents?”

“Uh,” Blue turned to look for the answers on Yellow’s face, but poor Yel was just as baffled by the question as Blue was. Seeing that the others weren’t answering, Blue took the initiative, “We don’t… really… have parents…?”

“I guess there’s… Alan….” Second suggested, voice weak for reasons beyond their illness. Their eyes avoided the gaze of everyone staring back, instead drifting up to stare vacantly at the ceiling.

Blue’s eyes connected with Yellow, silently communicating the agreement to not bring up what they were both thinking. Instead, Blue came up with a different excuse, “Well, Alan isn’t exactly our caretaker or anything. He’s more like a… friendly landlord?”

“Or a rich uncle!” Yellow chimed in, “Who we mooch off of without shame!”

“YOU guys mooch!” Second’s voice was beginning to become scratchy, Blue noted. She’d need to head down to the basement and get them some water soon. “I actually WORK for my keep!”

All Blue had to do to refute that was utter two simple words: “Team trees.”

Second’s face began to glow in a brilliant green blush, “Oh, shut up-!” They cut themselves off with a violent fit of coughing. Immediately Blue switched gears, putting down her mostly empty plate and rushing over to sooth Second by gently rubbing their back. Yellow, unable to do anything, glanced away. Her eyes glazed over as she retreated into her thoughts.

It took a long, long minute for Second’s coughing to finally subside. Even after it was gone, Blue continued to rub up and down Sec’s back soothingly, uncertain of what else to do. All she could hear was the shallow breaths of her dear friend as she helped them settle back down. Yellow and Mango were silent and still behind her. The extra blanket Purple had provided for Sec wasn’t very thick, but it was soft and velvety smooth beneath her fingers as she tucked their shivering form in and watch them settle down. Though their eyes were closed, they were shut too tightly for Blue to think they’d drifted off into dreamland quite yet.

That was so stupid; Blue had to be more careful about working Sec up until they were feeling better.

“…I feel a little like I should be calling child protective services,” Mango eventually confessed as Blue finished tucking her poor friend in.

Yellow scoffed, naturally taking offense to the admittedly understandable concern, “Yeah, and what are you going to tell then? ‘Hey, I think these kids I assaulted may be parent-less. You should check that out, right after arresting me for punching a child.’”

That was met with a grumble, but Mango couldn’t raise up much of a protest. Not when it completely true.

It was at this time that Red and Green finally returned. Their absence had been a little longer than Blue thought strictly necessary, but not long enough to set off any alarm bells in her head, especially considering Green’s love of gab. As if to answer the unspoken question, Green passed an empty plate over to Blue, who stuffed it into her inventory without much thought. His eyes were still a little foggy, but ultimately Green didn’t seem too worse for wear. Blue slung an arm around his shoulders, a supportive gesture disguised as a friendly one, and guided Green to the couch to rest. Red, meanwhile, hung back and idly rubbed his arm.

“Gold and Purple are still finishing up their food,” Green explained as his hand drifted to Sec’s hair and began combing through it. As Sec was the only one of the group with particularly long hair (well, had been before Purple, anyways) it wasn’t uncommon for any of them to seek out Second and play with their hair when they were upset. With the exception of when they were drawing, Sec never minded. “They said they’ll bring them out when they’re finished cleaning both their rooms.”

Mango nodded, though he didn’t look particularly happy, “I see… and Gold’s still upset with me?”

“They’re both busy cleaning!” Red blurted out. From the corner of her eye, Blue could see Green massage his temple irritably with a huffy exhale.

“…I see,” Acknowledged the adult stick, his voice forlornly flat. He crossed his arms and stared down at the ground in deep thought.

Eager to switch up the mood, Blue clapped her hands together and pulled all eyes to herself. The pressure was on, but Blue wasn’t afraid. “Well, now that we’ve all had breakfast, I think we should focus on just relaxing while we wait for King!” It was a two birds, one stone solution; Mango would get distracted and not pester Gold and Purple while the tension is still high, and Green, Yellow, and Sec could kick back and focus on healing. “Mango, why don’t you get a movie going, and we’ll watch while waiting for the others to finish up? I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Red and Green protested a little as Blue took all of the empty plates. Despite this, Blue waved them off with a smile; she didn’t mind a little extra work after a meal to keep her friends happy. And Second needed some fresh water, anyways.

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

Gold and Purple had been hiking through the Avery Forest for quite some time when Purple abruptly grabbed Gold by the arm and yanked him back behind a tree. The sudden movement made Gold gasp; Purple shushed him before he could even think about protesting. They then made a small ‘come hither’ movement with their hands and motioned forward with a nod of their head. With no option, Gold mimicked Purple and snuck up to the edge of the thick trunk they’d hidden behind, into a grove of towering pines.

There he was. King Dad, leaning back in the cool shade of one of the trees. He was still alive, still unharmed, which lifted a weight from Gold’s chest that he hadn’t been aware was pressing down on him. One of Dad’s hands held a metal compass; the other, a piece of paper yellow with age. He was examining both with the same sharp eye that he’d use to sniff out the issues in hardware brought to his shop: eyes narrowed, lips pressed thin, utterly concentrated on the task before him as he marked the paper with a pen. He’d always been like that. Single-minded and obsessive.

Like an evil king hellbent on revenge-

Hastily Gold shook the thought out of his head. This wasn’t about Dad. As relieving as it was to see him safe, as much as the mere idea of his crimes haunted Gold, this entire venture was about reassuring Purple. Gold was going to be a GOOD big brother. He was going to do what neither of his Dads could be bothered to do, and put Purple’s needs first for once in their life.

Speaking of Purple, the other stick was standing behind Gold, peering over his hair with palpable relief. “Well, he’s still breathing, at least…” They noted, the words spoken in a playful matter-of-fact manner that was in clear contrast to the sudden relaxing of their shoulders.

“What’s he doing?” Gold asked, squinting as he tried to focus on the paper. Just what was on it that had King Dad so enraptured?

“Making notes on his location,” Purple explained, eyes darting between the map and King Dad’s face, “When you’re out in the unknown, it’s important to keep close tabs on where you’ve been and where you’re going. That way if you get lost, you can retrace your steps and figure out where you’d gone wrong. It’s Wilderness Survival one-oh-one.”

As they’d spoken, Purple’s tone had taken on a more theatrical edge. Gold had noticed it last night, with the story of Dad’s… exploits, and how they’d swiftly worked to distract everyone from the panic this morning with their quick thinking and quicker wit. It was impressive, how Purple had immediately adapted the situation and jumped in to defuse the tension building up between everyone. Almost like they were used to it.

…

Gee, they- they sure were smart, too, weren’t they? “I can’t believe you just knew that off the top of your head!” Gold praised in the highest volume he dared, which was just a touch louder than a whisper, “That’s sooooo cool!”

“Well,” Purple preened, puffing up even as their face began to darken into a violet blush, “Naturally. I am something of a genius.”

The immense pride with which Purple perked themselves up with was absolutely adorable. Gold bit his lower lip to keep in the giggle threatening to escape. Movement in the corner of his eye then dragged his attention away from Purple and back towards King Dad. “Uh-oh!” In the five seconds that Gold had taken his eyes off of his father, Dad had folded up his paper and put everything back in his pack. Already he’d pushed off the tree he was leaning against and was once again beginning to make his way further into the woods. “He’s getting away!”

“Not for long!” Purple’s attention snapped back to King Dad immediately, watching tensely as he sauntered away. Their eyes darted around wildly for a moment before narrowing in on a spot somewhere to the left of King Dad. They held up their hand in a singular ‘stop’ motion before darting forth, to a tree nearby that was thick enough to shield them both from Dad’s vision. Once in position, they then made a ‘come hither’ motion with their hand to prompt Gold to follow suit, which he did.

The pair ducked behind the tree, waiting for a breathless moment before both cautiously peeked their heads out to observe King Dad. He hadn’t taken notice of the pair at all; His nose was still buried in the piece of paper he was carrying. Gold beamed up triumphantly at Purple, who spared him a quick smile before latching their attention entirely on Dad again. After a moment and a little more distance, Purple signaled again for Gold to stay put and stepped out of their hiding spot.

SNAAAP!

Purple froze as a branch broke beneath their foot. Immediately Gold grabbed Purple by the arm and pulled them back to the safety of the tree’s shadow, pressing them both into its bark in an effort to keep them hidden from King Dad’s view. Gold’s pounding heart echoed in his ears; the only other thing he could hear was Purple’s quickened breathing right next to him. Neither dared to speak, neither dared to move. Seconds ticked by, each one compounding the dread pressing down on Gold’s shoulders.

Finally, after a long, long moment of waiting, Purple sidled a little closer to the edge of the tree and cautiously peeked out, using the plentiful leaves and the shade they provided as cover.

“Do you think he saw us?” Gold whispered as loudly as he dared. It wasn’t nearly as loud as the pounding of his heart.

Squinting inquisitively at their parent in the distance, Purple eventually whispered back, “I don’t think he saw us, per se, but he definitely saw someone…” Then the violet stick’s eyes widened suddenly in shock. Gold didn’t need to ask what triggered the reaction; he could already hear the crackling of leaves and grass under heavy feet up ahead of them, rapidly moving away.

Oh. Well… shoot.

“C’mon!” Gold all but dragged Purple behind him as he raced after his running father. King Dad wasn’t even sparing a glance back at his pursuers; he simply sprinted forward into the wild unknown. Tall trees flew by in a blur of brown and green all around them. Sweat began to pool on his brow as the heat closed in from all sides.

Ahead of them, Gold could could see Dad hopping over fallen branches and overturned trunks with a level of agility that Gold had never seen in his father before. It was a little harder for Gold to make the same jumps, what with Purple in tow, so he had to lead the other into ducking under or around obstacles, and this was already putting distance between the two parties. As his father began to get farther away, Gold gritted his teeth and picked up the pace. Purple’s heavy breathing behind him was static in the background compared to the thumping and crunching ahead of them.

Purple needed to know their father would be okay. King Dad needed him to keep him from doing anything stupid. And Gold- Gold needed… he needed to-! He couldn’t let any more bad things happen because of-!

“Ah!” A sharp gasp gave Gold only a second of warning before Purple’s hand slipped out of his. They fell to the ground with a cacophony of crunch from the grass and ground below their collapsed body. Immediately Gold’s racing feet ground to a halt. He spun around to find Purple on the ground, having only barely prevented a face-plant by landing shoulder first into the soil. Their chest heaved as they took in deep inhales.

Everything in Gold’s mind scratched to a halt except for a repetition of ‘shoot, shoot, shoot!’ playing over and over again like a broken record. “Oh Cursors!” He sprinted back to Purple’s side without a moment of hesitation. With a rough grip he took hold of Purple’s arm and began to hoist them back up. “Are you okay?”

“F-forget about me!” Purple snapped, roughly pushing Gold off of them and peering off into the distance, “We need to catch up to- ah,” Purple’s shoulders slumped, prompting Gold to look back in the direction King Dad has run. Rows upon rows upon rows of vibrant green trees stretched ahead of them, broken up by emerald shrubbery and a carpet of sticks and leaves. But no Mango. Dad had taken advantage of their temporary setback to gain a substantial lead, unknowingly leaving both of his children in the dust.

“Well,” Gold spoke aloud for the both of them. “Heck.”

It was as if Purple hadn’t heard Gold. They took a few stumbling steps forward, staring numbly into the vast expanse of trees where King Dad had disappeared. After a moment of nothing but Purple’s breathing and the rustling of leaves in the wind, the violet stick spun around and immediately began rambling on, “Okay, no need to panic!” Whether they were talking themselves or Gold, the younger stick couldn’t say, “This is fine! It’s all gonna be fine! Sure, he ditched us, but we know where he’s going! If we just head south and keep a good pace, we’ll catch up with him in no time!” Purple finished off their spiel with a confident pose, hands on their hips and head raised to the sky. Like this, Gold could see their inner superhero shining through.

“That’s brilliant!” He praised, relishing in the sudden flush of Purple’s cheeks. They were clearly unused to receiving the proper accolades for their actions. Well, that would be another thing something Gold would have to fix! “Heh, with a master adventurer like you leading the way, protecting Dad’ll be a piece of cake!” Between the two of them, Gold was sure they’d keep him from dying or committing more terrorism, whether he liked it or not!

“Oh, please, stop~!” Purple gushed, smiling in spite of their poor attempts to be humble, “I just have some more experience than you, that’s all. Now,” They dropped their pose and peered around in every direction, sniffing around as if searching for some particular scent, “which direction is south…?”

Gesturing vaguely in the direction King Dad had run off in – or at least, the direction Gold thought he had run off in (maybe he was wrong?) - Gold asked, “Isn’t the way he went south?”

“That’s what he’d want you to think,” Answered the violet stick, pointing a single digit back at Gold, “But for as much of a senile Old Man as he can be, your Dad’s nothing if not clever. If he thought he was being tailed, he wouldn’t lead his pursuers to where he’s heading.”

Ah! That made sense! “So he went north?” Gold guessed.

“Maybe, but there are other directions he could’ve gone, too,” With a thwap, Purple’s roughsack was tossed to the ground, and the violet stick began to dig through it, pulling out item after item after item. Granola bars, “No,” A tiny case with a blue cross, “Nope,” Some… pixelated rockets…? “Nuh-uh,” And-

Gold wasn’t quite sure what to make of the next item Purple pulled out of their roughsack. It folded like fabric with a texture like shiny glass, and the care Purple put into it in comparison to the other objects in their bag was obvious. There was an odd pixelation to them as well, one Gold didn’t see much outside of older games. Was this… a game item, then?

...It was pretty.

Before Gold could gather his thoughts enough to ask any questions, Purple groaned with frustration. “Why don’t I have a map in here? I don’t even have a compass! How do I notat least have a compass?!” A low growl escaped through their teeth as Purple buried their face in their hands.

“Is there another way to find south?” Gold asked, flipping through the files in his mind for any relevant information that might have managed to make it from school lessons into his long-term memory, “Like, isn’t moss supposed to grow on the north side of a tree?”

“That’s just a myth,” Purple waved off without much fanfare, “If the forest wasn’t so thick I might be able to find the sea through scent, but the trees are blocking the ocean winds, so I’m just getting pine,” Purple looked up and grimaced, “I could use my Elytra to survey from up high, but I’d have to use a rocket… and I’d really prefer not to do that unless it’s an emergency. I was hoping to use those to get us home.”

The shimmering sheen of the fabric item drew Gold’s eye back to it. Ah. So this was the Elytra Purple had spoken of earlier. Soon enough the other had taken hold of the Elytra and one of the rockets, debating internally about whether or not it was worth the trouble of using one. They looked so torn up about it. A sudden knot formed in Gold’s chest, tightening around his heart in a painfully unfamiliar way. He’d come all this way with his new sibling to stop that kind of stress.

If only Gold could fix it somehow. If only he could see over the trees-

Oh.

Duh.

In a single stride Gold reached Purple’s side, patting their head with sarcastic sweetness, “Not to worry, little sib-”

“Okay, seriously, stop calling me that-”

“Your big bro’s got this handled,” Gold bent down, bracing his knees and aligning his feet, “Just watch and learn!” With only a second spared for a deep inhale, Gold sprung upward with all the strength in his legs. The propulsion of his leap launched him high and fast, giving Gold only a second to gather his bearings before reaching out to grip the tallest tree at maybe two-thirds of its height. He only had half of a second to grab onto its trunk, which was admittedly more of a mad scramble than Gold would have liked, but he still managed to get a solid grip in time.

With his arms and legs wrapped around the solid trunk, Gold took a moment to breath. In, and out. In, and out, harsh and rapid. His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest, and he briefly wondered if Purple could hear its attempts to beat out of Gold’s chest before shaking the ridiculous thought out of his head.

Somewhere beneath him, so softly Gold could only barely hear it over his deep breathing, Purple spoke. “Wow, he really is a good jumper…” The soft voice mumbled, and a single chuckle mixed in with Gold’s uneven inhales.

After a second or so, Gold’s breathing settled down. He called down a brief, “Thanks!” and triggered a violent blush that stretched across Purple’s entire face and down to their neck. Da’aw, they were embarrassed. How cute.

Gold smothered his laughter with one hand. It was then that he remembered that he was supposed to be doing something and proceeded to begin shimmying his way upward. The bark of the tree dug into his exposed skin, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar ache, so Gold was able to easily move past it. The bigger problem was the branches in the way. Some of them were sturdy enough to be used to prop Gold up, but at this height, most were too fragile to handle his weight. All Gold could do was push them out of the way or, for some awkwardly placed branches, endure leaves and little twigs digging into his side.

But it was nothing he couldn’t handle! Little calluses and splinter marks polka dotting his hands from breaking training boards over the years-

(Not that it ended up amounting to more than a silver ranking, after everything Gold put into it…)

-gave Gold more than enough experience to handle climbing a simple tree! He matched his reaches upward to the beat of his hammering heart and slowly, gradually, pulled himself towards the top. The canopy of leaves thinned around him, until finally, finally, his hands took hold of the topmost branches and Gold was able to pull himself out of the leave's shade and into the light of the sun. His gaze drew up from the branches he was focused on to the distant horizon, and Gold gasped.

An ocean of emerald green stretched out before him, the leaves rustling with the wind’s gentle melody. Beyond that, in the direction Gold knew was south, was the actual ocean, a giant expanse of deep blue stretching as far as the eye could see. The sun’s warmth reflected off the waves, making the water shimmer like liquid sapphire. The sun’s warmth beading down on Gold’s head was cooled by a gentle breeze flowing past, stealing the breath from Gold’s lungs.

Were the Avery Woods always this beautiful? It occurred to Gold that the woods were not even an hour’s walk from his house, but he and Dad had never even been here. Why would they? Everything they needed was in the city. And if they wanted to bask in nature’s glory, then it was off to the park for the pair of them. Why bother trekking all the way out into the wilderness, where there was mud and wild animals and, apparently, cyber-terrorists?

But still… how could they just neglect such an amazing view right in their own backyard?

“HEY!” A sudden shout shocked Gold out of his stupor, “ARE YOU DEAD UP THERE? PLEASE DON’T BE DEAD UP THERE, I REALLY DON’T WANT TO EXPLAIN THAT TO YOUR DADS!”

Blinking away the shock, Gold glanced down at Purple. From this height they were barely a speck of amethyst against the shadow cast by the tree. “Cool your jets!” Gold called back down. He moved to hug the tree’s trunk as tightly as he could and let gravity carry him down, only momentarily broken up by the need to maneuver around precariously placed branches. At about twice his height from the ground Gold deemed it ‘good enough’ and jumped the rest of the distance.

A glance to the side revealed that Purple had reacted almost exactly like Dad would have – their arms were outstretched, as though ready to pluck the falling stick out of mid-air. In return Gold gave them a cheeky little smirk.

“South is straight that way!” Reported the shorter stick, pointing towards the sea hidden behind an ocean of emerald.

Despite the shock caused by Gold leaping off the tree, Purple quickly recovered, smoothing back their hair and standing stock straight; as though nothing had happened. “Excellent work, Goldie,” They praised, patting the other on the head. Gold’s tongue reflexively stuck out in response. “If that Old Man thought he could get the best of us, he’s got another thing coming! Come on,” Purple pumped their fists in excitement, “Let’s show your idiot Dad that he’s not dying on our watch!”

Gold nodded, but as the two began to march along the vibrant pathway those words kept repeating themselves in his head. That Old Man. Your Dad. Had they been doing that this whole time? Shoot, Gold really needed to pay more attention if he was going to be any good at this big brother thing.

For a moment he mulled over the meaning of Purple’s words in his head, before finally he mustered his courage and spoke up, “Purple?” At the other’s questioning hum he continued, “Can I ask a question?”

“I don’t know,” Purple chirped, raising their chin and looking down at Gold with a sharp grin, “Can you?”

Oh, that was such a dumb joke. Either of his Dads would have loved it if they were around, “May I ask a question, then?”

“Didn’t you just ask one?” Purple’s grin grew from ear to ear.

With a frustrated huff, Gold stamped his foot, “Oh, come on!”

The annoyance left him completely, however, when he saw Purple begin to crack up. Their laughter was loud and wild; it suited them perfectly. “Okay, okay!” The other righted themselves quickly, still smiling wide. They folded their arms behind their head, “What did you want to ask?”

“Well-” Now that he had the okay, Gold found himself hesitating, but swallowed past the instinctive nerves and forced out the question, “Why do you call Dad ‘Old Man’?” Anxious fingers tapped together as Gold found himself unable to look at his companion, instead staring at the forest floor, “Why not by his name, or… or ‘Dad’?”

It took Gold a moment to realize Purple had stopped long enough for him to pass them. He spun around and quickly saw the other standing stock still in contrast to the shivering branches, stunned by the unexpected inquiry. Their eyes blinked stupidly for a moment; their shoulders were squared and tensed. It was as if the question had caused Purple to fumble and drop their brain, and now it was scrambling to catch up with them.

The rustling leaves, dancing elegantly in the wind, filled the silence around the two.

After only a few seconds, Purple’s shoulders relaxed and they rolled their eyes in a clearly exaggerated movement, “Pfft, please. Have you met the guy?” Purple scoffed casually. Despite this, Gold could still see a nervous tension to their movements. “He’s the epitome of an old man. Cantankerous, a complete know-it-all, an absolute menace to society…” They shrugged, and walked straight past Gold, “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

Gold pressed his lips together, letting a ponderous hum escape at the answer. Okay, so Purple didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth. That was fine. That was- that was fine. But still, some part of Gold couldn’t quite let it go. “But, he’s taking care of you and stuff, right?” Gold questioned. His Dad had, in the span of hours, become capable of mass murder; it would be so easy for him to take advantage of some naive, vulnerable young stick, too.

When Purple turned around to answer, they paused for a second. Something unfamiliar flickered in their eye as they ran their gaze over Gold. Whatever it was made them straighten up and lose some of their careless attitude, “Oh, yeah, of course!” Purple confirmed readily. The expected relief from hearing that didn’t come, leaving Gold with only a deep sinking feeling, “I mean, he gave up his room for me. Don’t think there’s much that could top that.”

That was true, Gold conceded, though it didn’t quite alleviate the unease that had settled in his stomach. “Do you guys… have fun together?” He probed, internally cringing at the nervous squeak to his voice.

“Absolutely, we have tons of fun!” Purple insisted brightly. They didn’t seem to be fibbing, at least, “Like, just the other day, your Dad was teaching me how to make lasagna. I didn’t really think cooking would be fun because, like, it always looks so stressful on cooking shows! But it was a blast! We made the sauce from scratch, and it wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be.”

Purple’s voice held nothing but pure whimsy as they spoke, and that did succeed in making Gold feel better, if only by a little. “What else do you guys do?” He asked, this time mostly out of curiosity and only partially out of concern.

“What don’t we do?” Purple asked, counting down on their fingers as they continued to walk. Gold easily kept stride, following a few steps behind their little sibling, “We’ve gone ice skating, we go to the theater, I’ve taught the old man gardening…” As they spoke, Gold found a genuine smile growing on his face. There was something enrapturing about listening to someone else talk with so much raw enthusiasm. It was oddly relaxing. “…and we play Minecraft together all the-”

The sound of that singular word froze Gold’s feet to the ground. Minecraft.

“….Then, something went wrong. The connection was disrupted, and glitches began to consume the game,” The arms around Gold tightened almost to the point of suffocation, but Gold couldn’t complain. Even without them he felt like he couldn’t breath, “I-I tried to get him out, to break through the glass, but the corruption pulled her back in and- and then…” King Dad’s eyes were dull and lifeless as he stumbled through his story, “The connection terminated. The Minecraft world was destroyed… and everything in it.”

In an instant Purple had spun around, visibly cringing, “I’m sorry, forget I said that-”

“It’s fine,” Gold interrupted instantly. A shiver ran through him in spite of the summer heat. Minecraft. It wasn’t like he hadn’t guessed that they played it, after learning there was Minecraft stuff in the brand-new basement – thanks for telling them about that, Dad!

Okay, deep breath, Gold. Sure, Minecraft was the game where his future self died, but it was still, at the end of the day, a game. He’d even said so himself just the other day. It wasn’t the game’s fault that the fair booth was glitched up. There was nothing to be afraid of.

It was fine.

He was fine.

He was fine.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, Gold forced a wider grin on his face, and hoped against hope that Purple couldn’t hear the hammering of his heart. “Why don’t you… uh, tell me about it?”

Purple blinked owlishly at them. “...You sure?” Their voice was soft with clear hesitation, hands busying themselves with clenching and unclenching onto the fabric of their shorts.

“Yeah!” Gold forced all the enthusiasm he could muster into that exclamation, pumping both of his arms to showcase his excitement. He wasn’t going to let something like a glitch that hadn’t even happened yet stop him from being a supportive big brother. “You were just saying you played it all the time, right? C’mon, tell me everything!”

After a brief moment of silence, all throughout which Purple stared at Gold with an impossible to read expression, the violet stick relented. “Well,” They bit their lip, combing through their mind for things to share, “It’s a pretty fun game – the point is to gather resources and build cool things, like a giant castle, or a looping obstacle course!” As they spoke, Purple began gesturing with their arms, as though showing off Minecraft to their new big brother. Gold smiled back at the display in spite of the butterflies in his stomach, “And there are tons of cool items in the game too! You can craft swords, and make potions – oh, you’ll have to ask Blue about potions, she’s real good at those! - and of course, my personal favourite: The Elytra.”

Like two rusty gears clinking together, something in Gold’s brain clicked. The cloth item he’d seen earlier – the one Purple was toting around with the slightly odd texture – that was the Elytra. A Minecraft item. They- they had a Minecraft item with them.

Gold’s mouth went dry.

“The connection terminated… world was destroyed… everything in it…”

Quickly the bright stick shook those thoughts out of his head. It wasn’t the game’s fault. He knew that. He knew that. And so he forced himself to take a breath, relax his shoulders, and push those thoughts to the back of his mind.

“You mean that thing you had in your backpack?” Gold asked. He received a nod of confirmation from Purple, and without thought his mouth fell open again and another question tumbled out, “Can I see it?” Immediately after asking Gold clammed up, pressing his lips sealed. He shouldn’t have asked, he knew he shouldn’t have asked, but now that it was out there he realized the curiosity was eating him alive.

Purple hesitated, scratching at the back of their head sheepishly, “Uh, I mean, this is a pretty rare item… It’d be a pain to replace if something happened to it…”

Whether this was a genuine concern or Purple just trying to keep him away from Minecraft, Gold couldn’t say. But he persisted in spite of the hammering of his heart, unwilling to let this ridiculous fear get in his way. “I’ll be really careful,” Gold promised. He sidled up to Purple’s side, forcing them to stop, and blinked up at the other with his biggest, saddest eyes, “Please~? Just for a minute.”

For their part, Purple bit their lip and tried to look away from Gold’s eyes, nervous sweat beading on their forehead. “Well…” Their eyes caught sight of Gold’s, and Gold poured all of his effort into pouting as cutely as he could manage, fluttering his eyes at the other stick. Purple groaned under their breath, clearly not happy, but inevitably, they broke, “Ugh, fine. Just… be really careful, okay?”

Once they had Gold’s profuse nodding at as a promise, Purple took in a deep breath and swung their backpack off of their shoulders to dig through it. Unlike the non-existent compass from earlier, it was pretty easy for purple to find the cloth item and pull it out, letting the folded game item unfurl for Gold to examine.

Before, Gold had chalked the visible texture up to something like glass, but now that he was getting a closer look he could see that the Elytra’s appearance was more in line with that of insect wings. The sunlight that breached the forest canopy overhead shimmered off the material, making it almost look like it was glowing. Despite that, the gentle summer breeze made it clear that the Elytra was made of cloth; it swayed gently, a soft rustling sound being carried on the wind.

Something about the sight of it, with its mild pixelation and pretty colouring, made Gold’s breath catch in his throat. His hands, carrying only a slight tremble, began to move forward, and despite their earlier objections Purple didn’t stop the hands before they made contact with the Elytra.

It was soft.

Gold’s fingers combed through the fabric. Instead of a pair of wings, it felt like a blanket, light and soft and fresh from a dryer. If Gold closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was back at home, snuggled into the couch as his father laid a quilt on top of him, with no need to worry about a deadly cyber-terrorist, or his father rushing off to meet one, or how King Dad had become one, how he’d tried to destroy a game and everyone in it allbecause of Gold, because he’d wanted to play a game at the fair and ended up caught in a storm of glitches-

“Connection terminated… destroyed the world… everything in it… destroyed… everything in it… DeStRoYeD…

Out of the corner of his eye, Gold spotted it. Little bits of the pixelation that indicated this was a game item began to distort and discolour. Like a virus it spread across the surface of the Elytra. The pixels flipped out as they became infected, jumping and flashing colours as they inched their way closer to Gold’s exposed hand. His brain yelled at him to move, move, move! But his body remained frozen in place, unable to do anything as the virus slowly crept towards him, hungry and mindless, ready to tear him apart pixel by pixel-!

Finally Gold managed to pull his hand free, clutching it close to his chest with a gasp. He blinked down at the Elytra – and there was nothing. No glitches, no virus. Just the singular cloth item, fluttering harmlessly in the wind.

All the while Purple stared at them, eyes crinkling with obvious worry.

“I… think that’s enough,” Gold stated, rubbing soothing circles into his knuckles with his thumb. He quietly exhaled through his nose and gave Purple his biggest smile. The poor stick looked almost as stressed as they did when King Dad had announced he was going after Chosen, and though it made Gold want to squeeze the worry out of them, he managed to hold back. “Thank you.”

Purple nodded, folding the Elytra back up and sealing it back within the confines of their backpack. Gold’s eyes remained glued to the item up until it disappeared. A part of him felt some relief to see the item disappear. Another part felt slimy at the thought.

Once the Elytra was put away the pair began once again trekking through the woods. This time, however, an awkward silence held over the two. Only the sound of crunching greenery underneath his feet filled Gold’s ears as he marched along, scratching at his knuckles to remove an itch that wasn’t there. Of course there wasn’t anything there. It was just an item from a game. There was nothing to cause any glitches. It was fine, he was fine, he couldn’t do this now, not when he had to take care of King Dad and Mango Dad and Purple-

“You know,” Purple broke the silence, walking a few steps ahead of Gold. They didn’t look back at Gold as they spoke, “I used to live in Minecraft.”

Every thought in Gold’s mind came crashing to a stop. Before it could finish rebooting, his mouth went on auto-pilot, “You… lived there?”

“Yup!” Purple’s voice carried a casual cheeriness, almost as if ignorant to the scope of what they’d just confessed, “Found an old play test lab some time back and managed to get the portal working. Wasn’t easy, but I was a resourceful little tyke. I figured it out,” Purple folded their arms behind their head, waltzing along at a leisurely pace, “Heh, I still remember stepping out into that open world for the first time… everything was so… bright. In the city all the colours except for the sticks feel so muted, so stepping out into that Minecraft world for the first time just took my breath away…”

As they spoke, Purple’s voice was light with nostalgic fondness. Gold wondered what they must have seen at that moment to inspire such wonder, and found his mind wandering back to atop the tree, taking in an ocean so beautiful he’d nearly forgotten how to breathe. Struck with just how big and beautiful the world around him was, and how… cut off he’d been this entire time.

Was that the feeling Purple and their friends got when they were inside Minecraft? The thought of that stoked excitement and anxiety inside Gold in equal measure, the two emotions ebbing and receding within him like the tides.

Oblivious to Gold’s internal turmoil, Purple continued, “I wandered the overworld for some time before ending up on somebody’s abandoned Mac. The thing still worked just fine. Don’t know where the owner went, but they never came for their machine, so I made myself at home. Built up a nice castle, and a village for my own amusement, which some villager NPCs moved in to more or less overnight. Before I knew it, I was ruling over them,” For the first time since starting, Purple looked back, winking at Gold, “Heh, your Dad might be King, but I was the original King.”

Ooh, wow! Gold’s mouth fell agape at the idea. An initial wave of excitement ran through him; Purple was a King, just like Dad! But his enthusiasm quickly died off as his buried thoughts resurfaced to remind Gold just what King Dad did with his kingship. “Dad didn’t… take your kingdom, did he?”

“What?” The genuine confusion helped ease Gold’s fear more than the following denial, “Oh, no, that was long before we met. I lost my kingdom because I flew too close to the sun, Goldie.”

Gold gasped. How horrible! “You mean the sun is hostile in Minecraft?!” After hearing Purple talk about the game, Gold had been beginning to get an image of what the game was like; a calm crafting simulator. Indignant suns with the power to dethrone kings didn’t quite fit that picture.

Purple, for their part, looked utterly baffled at the question, “Huh? No- it was a reference. You know, Icarus? Greek mythology?”

The only response Gold could think to give was a blank stare and questioning tilt of the head.

Confusion quickly turned to discomfort as the silence stretched on. Soon enough Purple continued, turning around to face forward as they walked again, “Er, never mind. What I meant to say was, I got greedy,” They sighed, “There was a treasure in an area of the game called ‘The End,’ and I wanted it. Iiiit… just so happened that the boss of the End… is a dragon. And the treasure was her egg.”

Oh. Already Gold could tell where this was going, “That… couldn’t have ended well.”

Purple scoffed aloud, “Yeah, no kidding,” Their shoulders drooped as they recounted the experience, “The dragon burst through the portal into the village I’d made and burnt it down searching for her egg. She only stopped when I finally gave it back…” Purple paused, taking a moment to stare up at the sky and giving Gold ample opportunity to catch up to them, “She was… a real good mom.”

“So my hunch was correct. The kid’s an abuse victim.”

Gulping past the sudden lump in his throat, Gold reached out and gently patted Purple on the shoulder. If Purple’s muscles briefly stiffened under the unexpected touch, neither paid it any mind.

“Anyways,” Purple soon began moving again, and this time, instead of staying two steps behind, Gold kept stride with his new little sibling, “Turns out the gratefulness my people had for building them a village did not override their anger at getting said village burned down for no real reason. So I got jailed. And then banished,” Gold winced, but Purple looked pretty nonchalant about it all, “After that, I bounced between the city and a new tree house in the Minecraft Overworld for a while, and then I saw your Dad’s help wanted poster, and… well, you know the story from there.”

Stealing the Icon. Erasing an entire world full of innocent people. Nearly killing a group of stick kids – including the only person who’d been trying to help him. Yeah, Gold got the picture.

“So,” Purple’s tone jumped back to cheerful and carefree as easily as slipping into a pair of sandals, “Now it’s your turn.”

That earned Purple a confused look, “My turn?” Asked Gold.

“I told you a secret,” Responded the violet stick with a mischievous smile that reached their eyes, “It’s only fair you give me one, too. It doesn’t even have to be a big one. Just tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Revelation lit up Gold’s eyes as it dawned on him just what Purple was telling him. Not only was that story something Purple kept from everyone – maybe even Dad too, which made Gold feel oddly giddy – but they felt comfortable enough to ask Gold for a secret! His fuzzy brain turned itself over, searching through every memory for something suitable to share. The biggest secret Gold had was the whole ‘from the past and also doomed by destiny’ thing, which Purple was well aware of. But nothing else felt good enough. The secrets he had – the few things he didn’t share with Dad – were stupid things, like breaking bedtime rules to play video games after dark or tossing stuff under his bed instead of properly cleaning his room or-

Oh. That could work. It wasn’t ‘I lived inside a video game because I’m a homeless orphan’ level of deep, but it was the only thing Gold could think of that wasn’t completely stupid.

“Well…” Gold hesitated, steeling his nerves, before a quick look at Purple’s enthralled expression encouraged him on, “When I’m of age, the first thing I’m going to do is get a tattoo.”

Purple choked on their own surprise and started coughing, “Excuse me?” They gasped out.

Nodding excitedly, Gold held out his arm and traced around his wrist with his pointer finger, “Yup! I was thinking a bracelet of thorns around my wrist!” He traced the wobbling path of this imagined bracelet, “That would be sooo cool, don’t you think?”

When Gold’s attention turned back to Purple, he was amused to find the other stick staring over at him with their mouth agape. Giggling to himself, Gold reached over and gently pulled Purple’s jaw back up off the ground.

“Sorry,” Purple immediately apologized, flustered, “I just… didn’t expect that. The Old Man didn’t talk about you much, but I always got the impression that you were something of a goody two-shoes. Never thought you’d want a tattoo.”

The mention of Dad did admittedly sour the mood a little, but Gold kept his cheerful grin as he cheekily answered, “Pssh, Dad doesn’t know everything about me,” Gold relaxed and glanced upward, relishing in the rays of warm sunlight peeking through the umbrella of leaves that covered the forest, “I always thought tattoos were neat, but Dad never liked them. Said it was stupid to make permanent alterations to your body when you could just get a temporary doodle,” And Gold had gotten said temporary doodles, sure, but it wasn’t the same as having the art become a literal part of your body, “So I never told him.” A short sneer fell from his lips, “And even if I did, I bet he wouldn’t mention it. Hard to justify destroying worlds if the person you’re avenging isn’t a perfect little angel.”

“Hey,” The unusually melancholy in Purple’s tone drew Gold’s attention back to his sibling stick; the other stared him straight in the eye, lips pressed thin and gaze focused, “I know you’re still upset about the Minecraft thing, but your Dad… he really does care about you,” The look in Purple’s eyes, intense and serious, left Gold with a weight in his gut, “He screwed up, yeah, but he was in a lot of pain, and… he’s trying very hard to make up for it. So please, cut him some slack? He loves you for you, tattoos and all.”

Thoroughly chastised, Gold directed his gaze down and nodded mutely. Colourful rocks and patches of base dirt passed underneath Gold’s feet as he moved forward, one foot in front of the other. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that his Dad was suffering – of course Gold knew that. He could still remember how tired King Dad looked as he told his sorry tale, or how Mango Dad had gone from furious to broken in a matter of seconds.

And yet… the fury in his eyes as he straight up decked Purple… the thought of all those innocent Minecraft monsters and NPCs…

Shaking the thought out of his head, Gold smiled weakly up at Purple, “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Purple patted Gold on the shoulder, giving him a bright grin. Admittedly, a part of Gold still felt slimy about just… letting go of the things his Dad did. Not when he’d hurt so many people. But he could at least tone down his anger a bit.

For Purple’s sake.

“So, besides tattoos,” Much to Gold’s relief, Purple seemed satisfied with his answer and moved on quickly, “What else do you like?”

Eager to change the topic, Gold bounced on his heels and enthusiastically clapped his hands together, “Oh, lots of stuff!” He declared, “I’m a silver-ranked tournament fighter, you know that,” At some point Gold would have to squeeze in some extra training. Another few hours a week and Gold was sure he wouldn’t screw up like that again! “but I’m also an avid collector of comic books!”

Chuckling softly, Purple remarked, “I thought those were too cool to be the Old Man’s.”

“Right?” Gold agreed, already feeling lighter, “Dad’s stuff is so boring. Like, those old tech manuals he has? They’re basically all he reads,” Gold hummed, then corrected, “Well, those and true life mystery novels? I honestly don’t get it.”

“Well, to be fair, the manuals are pretty interesting,” Purple mused nonchalantly. Ah, so Purple understood those ten-syllable word using, obnoxiously paced snore-fests? Well, they were something of a genius. Was it really so surprising they were on par with Dad? “But yeah, I don’t get the true life dramas, either. They’re so dry and depressing,” The thought prompted a sigh, and Gold was right there with Purple.

“His taste in music is much better,” Gold promised.

“It is?” The statement seemed to have surprised Purple, who tilted their head at Gold, “We always just listen to my music, so I’ve never been able to gauge what he he likes. Except for one band I kind of like, Kindling? I played one of their songs and the Old Man insisted I turn it off immediately. Guess he doesn’t like rock.”

Gold’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? Kindling is one of our favourite bands!” Another look of shock fell over Purple’s face at that reveal, “We listen to them all the time! We’re even going to see them live-!” Revelation struck Gold like lightning, leaving him shocked still, “...we were going to see them at the fair.”

Purple grimaced, but lost that look of surprise as they, too, came to the same conclusion Gold had, “Ah. That explains it, then.”

At the end of the day, it was just another thing that glitched up fair booth had taken from them.

“But it’s cool you like Kindling!” Clearly sensing the conflict, Purple swiftly pulled them away from that topic and back to the original one, “They’re not my favourite band ever, but I like a lot of their songs! Like, that one hit they had, ‘Everything but the Kitchen Sink’?”

“Ooh, I love that song!” Gushed the fighter, flapping his arms as excitement overwhelmed him, “The chorus just sticks with you! Like, the part where it goes-” Though not particularly familiar with the various notes and chords that created music, Gold did his best to recreate the melody with various bops and da-das, “just blows my mind! Or that bridge where it just goes-” Again, Gold did his best to recreate the melody with his voice. It didn’t sound quite what he was envisioning, but he hoped it was at least close enough that Purple got the gist of it, “That leads into that wicked guitar solo that goes like-!”

The harmonious strings of a violin cut Gold off, matching the solo he had in mind near perfectly. Its melody left Gold frozen in place, entirely captivated by the composition floating freely through the air, leaving the gentle breeze to quiet in awe of the enrapturing riff. Before Gold could even think to turn around it was over.

Once the shock wore off, Gold spun around to find Purple standing with their arms folded behind their back. There was an almost innocent air about them, except for the fact that they had a grin that stretched from ear to ear, practically singing to all who saw it, ‘I know something you don’t know~’

Absolutely astonished, Gold marched right up to Purple, “How did you do that?” He demanded.

Feigning ignorance, Purple asked, “Do what?” with the theatrical air that Gold was coming to associate with the other stick’s more playful side. After a brief pause, they took on a look of mocking realization (that might’ve fooled Gold, if he hadn’t known better – Purple’s a real good actor) and proclaimed, “Oh, you mean this?”

They opened their mouth, but instead of the smooth tones of Purple’s voice, out flowed a lovely tune of violin strings, echoing so beautifully that even the rustling of branches seemed to stop for Purple’s song. The melody left Gold stunned into complete stillness, left with no choice but to take in the music as it babbled through the open air like the most melodious brook. Gold didn’t recognize the song – maybe it was something Purple wrote themselves? - but he was certain he’d never forget it.

Once Purple was done, Gold immediately grabbed their arm, mouth agape, and shook them eagerly, “AAAHH-!”

Despite being rocked like bamboo shaft in the wind, Purple offered no resistance but laughter.

“That was AMAZING!” Gold declared, finally releasing his totally cool, wonderful, talented little sibling, “Your voice is so pretty! How did you do that?”

“Oh, it’s just a little trick I picked up in Minecraft,” Like all the praise before, Purple took Gold’s astonishment with poise and pride, “Pretty impressive, huh?”

Impressive was an understatement. “How do you do that?” Asked Gold once more.

Purple hummed under their breath, tapping their chin as they thought through how to answer, “Well, it’s not hard. You do have to have some musical knowledge, but it’s pretty easy to pick up once you’ve got the basics. Green can do it, too, although,” Here, Purple let a little snorting laugh escape, “He’s stuck with a dumb ol’ flute.”

All Gold got from that was thatOTHER sticks could make music noises. Which meant… “Can you show me how to do it?” Pleaded the deep yellow stick, folding his hands together in pleading.

“Sure, just don’t bowl me over with your music,” At Gold’s confusion, Purple shook their head and apologized, “Sorry, inside joke. I’ll be happy to teach you a bit, but, maybe after we save your Dad, okay?”

That was fair, “Okay, then!” Gold nodded, “But this is a promise, okay? You’ll teach me how to do the music thing later. Promise me!” Purple nodded and, at Gold’s stern look, crossed their heart with their distant hand. Once they’d sworn themselves, Gold nodded profusely. “Good, I’ll hold you to that! ‘Cause I wanna have a cool instrument for a voice! Like, maybe an electric guitar! Or a grand piano!” Gold’s fists shook as he became utterly enraptured in the possibilities, “Or a french horn!”

“Why a french horn, of all things?” Questioned the violet stick, raising their brow as they smiled at Gold’s antics.

“’Cause french horns are awesome!” Gold insisted, hopping atop a fallen log. He spun around, arms outstretched over his head, and proclaimed, “If I had an instrument for a voice, I don’t think I’d ever shut up! I’d be the most annoying person on the internet!”

That got Gold a little snort of amusement, “Bold statement,” They decreed, “For someone who shares said internet with that Old Man.”

After everything that had happened, Gold wasn’t terribly inclined to defend his father’s coolness factor, and even if he was, he was too busy laughing to come up with anything. He laughed so hard that a tiny tear squeezed itself out of his eye, and Gold quickly reached up to wipe it away. “Hehe! Okay, maybe not the most annoying person, but I’d definitely be singing a lot more! Like, imagine how good it would sound if you were just singing the chorus of some big song, like ‘Elegy of a Rhapsody’, and then instead of skipping over the long instrumental parts you just switch to your instrument voice-”

Then, as if on cue, the elegant sounds of a violin once again echoed through the woodlands. Gold was able to recognize the song this time: Elegy of a Rhapsody, a song that served as the perfect backdrop to long training sessions. The song had been repeated in the background of Gold’s life so long that he was able to recognize its long instrumental break straight from the first chord. Hiding a chuckle behind his hand, Gold waited until Purple reached the part where the lyrics kicked back in before loudly picking up where they left off.

Honestly, in comparison to the sultry strings of Purple’s violin, Gold’s voice wasn’t anything special, but that didn’t mean he thought it was bad at all. And even if it was, who cared? Singing was fun – especially with Purple backing him up!

Excited, Gold hopped off his perch, keeping up with the singing as he started bouncing southward. Purple followed after, their violin harmonizing with Gold’s voice perfectly. Once Purple was close enough, Gold took their hand and swung them, allowing himself to be completely overtaken by the music. How could he not? For the first time since the revelation of his death, Gold felt free of worry. The Chosen One, Minecraft, his future (past?) demise, Dad’s sins… all of it seemed to melt away as he danced with his new sibling, stoking the newly sparked bond between them.

They swung each other around once, twice, and then Gold released Purple to run ahead, grappling a tree to swing around as he put his all into the chorus. Purple swiftly swept passed, pausing to pose as they filled in the spots between Gold’s words. It didn’t have quite the same energy as what Gold was used to, but the longer they sung together, the more Gold was beginning to prefer the mellow violin tones to the hyper electric guitar that he was used to.

As Purple’s section began to trail off into the next verse, Gold released the tree and allowed himself to fall into a spring, racing ahead of Purple and leaping theatrically as he began the next line. The words flowed out of him as he stepped up on a tree stump. Purple’s attention was on him, and, eager to impress, Gold finished the section by flipping backwards off the stump and into a thick patch of underbrush.

Instead of solid earth, the ground beneath his feet warped, and Gold only had a half second to register what was happening before it completely collapsed with a wooden snap. He looked up just in time to see Purple’s smile fade into shock and horror before the turf swallowed him whole.

Faster and faster gravity pulled the young stick down. The bountiful greens and browns of the forest gave way to industrial blues and grays that blurred together as he flew past. A piercing echo assaulted Gold’s eardrums; in a better state of mind, he might have realized it was his own scream, but all he could think as he plummeted was a singular string of AAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!

“GOLD!”

The sudden call forced Gold’s head to jolt upwards, staring in disbelief. Directly above him, falling even faster than Gold himself, was Purple. What little light could pierce through the ground above reflected off what some small part of Gold recognized as the Elytra on Purple’s back, causing them to glimmer in the darkness. As they drew closer, Purple’s hand reached out, stretching as far as it could go, and Gold fought against the sheer forces around him to reach back. His ligaments strained with the effort, but Gold forced his arm upward, and Purple drew closer…

And finally, at last, their hands clasped around each other.

Once they had taken hold of Gold, Purple immediately spun, using their natural momentum to adjust their positions so that Purple was falling back-first and Gold was on top of them, clinging to the violet stick for dear life. His eyes clenched shut; his heart pounded so hard in his chest that Gold was certain Purple could feel it. All that Gold could hear around them was the whipping of winds and harsh flapping of the Elytra as Purple fought against the ground’s pull to save their lives.

Slowly, gradually, the beating of the Elytra smoothed out as the two’s speed began to decrease. After what felt like a painful eternity of falling down and down and down, Gold and Purple came to a complete halt. Their positioning shifted again, this time to lower the both of them down to the ground on their feet. Only once his feet made contact with a solid, thick metal floor did Gold allow his eyes to flutter open.

What greeted him was a gigantic tunnel, wide and tall enough to easily fit Purple’s entire friend group, but still somehow coming off as claustrophobic. It stretched left and right and upwards without end, the far lengths of the corridor shrouded in shadows. The angles of the ceiling and walls felt like they were pressing down on Gold, waiting to close in on him and Purple at any second. Each side of the passageway was made up of multicoloured bands that, upon closer inspection, looked almost like wires, kept in place only by thick bands of black metal running that encircled the entire perimeter at regular intervals. The metal plating that made up the ground was sturdy enough under Gold’s feet, but cold and sterile. Not even the heat of the sun’s rays penetrated this deeply down, leaving the air strangely cool.

Sans a distant electrical humming, the only sounds echoing through the tunnels were those of Gold and Purple’s heavy breathing.

“Well,” Eventually, it was was Purple who broke the silence, “That was the third scariest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Despite their smile, Purple’s arms were clenched around Gold with a vice grip, “How are you holding up? Are you hurt?”

Gold’s first attempt to speak failed, his voice simply refusing to come out. He swallowed and shook his head, then tried again. Miraculously, this time his voice didn’t fail him, “No, I’m okay,” His head swiveled around to fully take in the dark environment around them, a pit forming in his gut, “I didn’t… cause us to fall into hell, did I?” If he did, then the creators were so cruel; punishing Purple for Gold having the audacity to live in spite of fate.

To the young Ochre’s surprise, Purple only snorted off Gold’s suggestion, “Nah. I don’t know what hell you think you’re going to, but it is definitely not the same hell I’m heading for,” Before Gold could even begin to process that statement, Purple approached the siding of one of the metal bands and began to wipe away at the dust with squinted eyes, “No, if my hunch is correct…” Peaking over Purple’s shoulder, Gold found that what Purple was examining was actually a small placard of some sort, with a series of numbers and letters that Gold couldn’t even begin to decipher. Given Purple’s resulting sigh and defeated shoulder slumping, however, he doubted it meant anything good. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. These are the old Ethernet Tunnels.”

A jolt of shock went through Gold.

Long before the world of computers was connected wirelessly, sticks and humans alike would traverse the internet through tunnels of cable and wire. It was through these tunnels that the sticks who founded the City escaped their human masters, leaving behind a lifetime of abuse and enslavement for the freedom to build up their lives from scratch. Over time the tunnels had become defunct as the majority of the internet switched to WiFi, but they had still offered a path of escape for sticks who’d suffered the loss of their homepages at the hands of the Dark Lord and the Chosen One many years ago. However, according to the representatives of Rocket Corp who’d helped integrate these wayward animations into the city life, disuse had caused the tunnels to become broken down and dangerous. So, Rocket Corp took initiative and sealed off every entrance. For the people’s safety.

...which was bad news for Purple and Gold. “Oh no,” He muttered, only realizing his mistake when he caught sight of Purple’s expression drooping further. With slight panic, Gold quickly jumped out in front of the other, holding his arms out placatingly, “Uh, well, let’s think positively! We got in here, so we know the tunnels aren’t completely sealed off, right?” He gazed up, squinting against the rays of light that managed to make it down to the tunnel’s end. Gold couldn’t see the top from where he was, which made his stomach drop. Just how far had they fallen…? “Uh, we can just… climb out!” He suggested, forcing all the enthusiasm into his voice that he could muster.

“Maybe you can,” Purple retorted huffily, crossing their arms and sticking up their nose, “But I know I don’t have the arm strength for that amount of vertical climbing. No, I’ve got a better idea.”

The elytra on Purple’s back flapped once to straighten out. They dug through their bag only for a moment before surfacing with one of the rocket’s Gold had seen earlier.

“Good thing I saved these,” Purple noted under their breath before returning their attention to Gold, explaining briefly, “The Elytra can’t get any lift on their own. They’re basically a fancy glider. That’s what the rocket is for. It’ll give us upward momentum,” Purple hummed as they considered their next moves, “I’ll need one arm to hold on to the rocket, so you’ll have to cling to me as tight as you can-”

“On it!” Gold interrupted, immediately wrapping his arms around Purple as tight as he could. He met Purple’s shocked blankness with a wide grin.

Purple took a shivering breath before meeting Gold’s smile with a more frail, nervous one, “Okay,” they said, holding on to Gold with their free arm before lifting up the one with the rocket, “I won’t be able to catch you if you fall, so hold on tight!”

A boom echoed through the tunnels as the rocket ignited, carrying Purple and Gold upward faster than a speeding bullet. Once again Gold’s heart was pounding, but this time the palpitations were from excitement rather than any kind of fear. With no fear of plummeting to his death thanks to Purple’s wings, Gold was able to fully enjoy the sensation of air rushing around him and the walls transforming into a blur of colour as they ascended. The light grew brighter, and though Gold was tempted to reach up and grab for it, he dutifully kept his arms securely around Purple.

Without warning, the fizz of the rocket died down to nothing. They continued upward for a few heart-stopping seconds before Gold and Purple began falling yet again. A soft, “No…” fell from Purple’s lips as gravity reclaimed the two once again. This time they descended at a much more relaxed pace, the wings of the Elytra allowing them to slowly glide back to the safety of the ground.

Once on the floor of the tunnels, Gold released Purple, bracing himself on the wall as the dying adrenaline in his body caused his knees to shake. He took a few deep breaths before turning to Purple once more, “Okay, let’s try again-!”

“Not a good idea,” Purple shook their head, “I only have one rocket left, and we were nowhere near the top of that tunnel,” This prompted Gold to look up again, frowning in puzzlement. Just how far did they fall…? “I think we should take a look around, find another way out. As a last resort, I still have my cell phone, so we can call for help if need be.” A soft snort escaped Purple’s nose, “Some rescue mission this turned out to be.”

All of Gold’s attention returned to Purple at that moment. The other stick was scowling upwards at the tunnel they’d fallen down, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Their hair and face were slicked with sweat, and Gold’s concern only grew when he noticed awkward smudges beneath Purple’s eyes, revealing dark bags hidden underneath. Without the mask of make up and with their guard down, Purple looked exhausted, like they hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. Gold’s heart clenched as he thought about everything they’d done today – the hiking, the running, the dancing, the falling. And all of it done without a single complaint, despite how horrible Purple must have felt.

How could he have not noticed? Gold had only been a big brother for one day, and already he was screwing it up.

With his heart heavy, Gold walked in front of Purple and, making sure to move slow as to not startle his new friend, placed his hand on Purple’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” Gold promised, smiling brightly despite the ache in his chest, “Rocket Corp isn’t perfect – there’s gotta be something they missed. And if anyone can find it, it’s us!” Gold nodded confidently, and felt a little relief when Purple smiled back, “We’ll be back before anyone even has time to miss us! C’mon, let’s go!”

Having no other option, the two picked a direction and began to walk. Certainly they’d come across something eventually.

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

With hope in their hearts and tears in their eyes, the two lovers took each other in their arms and slowly, gently, brought their lips together. The music in the background swelled one final time as the camera panned upwards to the moon, where swirling cursive font was brought to life by golden sparkles, spelling out ‘The End.’ Then the screen faded to black, and explosive applause erupted all throughout the living room.

Mango jolted back at the unexpected noise.

The movie, some tacky romance the kids had chosen, was something Mango had seen a few times and altogether hadn’t been entirely interested in. Even if he had been, though, Mango doubted he would’ve been able to focus on the film. His mind felt like a puddle of melted goo, memories and thoughts and wayward emotions swirling around within his stream of consciousness, with no sense of focus or direction.

It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen head or tail of Gold since their argument this morning. That last look Gold had given him stuck in his mind; one filled with a stone cold fury he’d never seen his kid direct at anyone, let alone himself. Every part of him screamed to go get his kid, to hug them close and apologize over and over again and never let them go. That wasn’t even including Purple, who, despite Mango’s best efforts, kept worming their way back into his thoughts. This morning’s attempt at an apology had gone poorly, and the thought of trying again made every muscle in his body twitch with the urge for flight. But it had to be done. If only he could manage to get away long enough to take care of it.

It was like there was some new disaster every time he attempted to leave his seat. The first time he tried to get up, Green had tripped and spilled his drink all over Yellow, prompting her to shout and Red to burst into laughter. Only Blue, who Mango was quickly coming to like the most despite their… awkward introduction, had taken the situation seriously, checking first on the irritated yellow child as Mango had helped her dry off before dragging the green one aside to give him a proper examination and hushed scolding. Then, when he’d tried to slip away again, Mango had only gotten as far as the entrance to the hallway before Red’s sharp shriek drew him back. Turned out the kid had cut his hand on some glass, and Mango had found himself holding a stupid Minecraft bucket of stupid Minecraft water while Blue had tended to the wound.

Even beyond those few stand out moment, the friend group was loud and obnoxious the whole way through that snore-fest of a film. The multiple instances of flirting between the two leads had the group chorusing with oohs and aahs; The few kiss scenes were somehow even worse, prompting cheering and jeering and Green leaping out of his seat only to immediately collapse back into it, laughing off Blue’s fussing while indulgently drinking the water she forced down his throat. The only one who remained blissfully silent throughout the showing was the Second Coming, and only because they were slumbering through it so deeply Mango wasn’t certain whether or not they’d fallen into a coma.

Gold’s friends, a large group of kids from both his school and sparring team who cycled in and out so often Mango couldn’t quite recall their names, were never like this. They were always respectful in his home, never making a nuisance of themselves or any mess too big to be easily cleaned up after. Unlike this group, whose manners were so abysmal that he’d have suspected them of not having parents even if it hadn’t already been confirmed.

And yet, there was a closeness between them that Mango had never seen with Gold’s friends. Not a moment passed where one of the friends wasn’t touching each other; Red sitting on the arm of Yellow’s chair while using her head to rest his elbows; Green and Blue braiding Second’s hair while they slept. Then they’d switch places, and Green would squeeze himself next to Yellow and rest on her shoulder while Red and Blue would playfully kick at each other’s feet. The displays of affection were sweet, in their own way. Mango found himself wishing that Gold’s friends were more like that.

Popping up next to the television, Blue held up a boxed DVD and asked in a cheerful sing-song tone, “Who’s up for another movie~?”

A chorus of cheers and hollers rang in Mango’s ears before he even had time to cover them. He almost found himself wishing that Gold’s friends were more like that, Mango revised as Red and Green crowded Blue.

“Wait a second,” Green squinted at the movie in Blue’s grip, “’Attack of the Gigantor Human!’. What the heck is this…?”

“It’s a comedy!” Blue explained, turning over the box and running her finger over the blurb on the back, “Or at least, I’m assuming so? ‘In a virtual world where sticks live free of humans, a mysterious destructive force draws closer… and closer… when humans find the secret to virtual reality and enter the world of sticks, can Corporal Amarillo and her team find a way to turn them back before the entire city is flattened under their heels?’ I mean, come on!” Blue shook her fists excitedly, “That sounds hilarious! And it looks so cheap! It’ll be fun!”

Green wrinkled his nose, “I don’t get your tastes. Why don’t we watch something that actually looks good? Like…” Green ran his fingers across the various movies still on display, and eventually lifted one out, “This one! It looks like it had an actual budget!”

“It’s just an action flick,” Blue dismissed, “We can watch better ones on Youtube at home.”

Before Green even had a change to retort, Red popped up between them with a third movie in his hands, “How about this one?” He smiled from ear to ear, pressing the box against his face, “It has an adorable lil doggie on it!”

“Red, no,” Blue groaned with all the enthusiasm of a child staring down a plate of vegetables, “No more cute creature movies. You cry every time something happens to the animals.”

“Sometimes he cries even if nothing happens to the animals,” Green quipped.

“Can I help it if they’re so cute?” Red’s asked in a weepy tone, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears already.

Green buried his face in his hands and sighed deeply, before peeking one eye out towards the armchair, “Yel, help us out here. What movie should we put on?”

In response Yellow jolted up straight, eyes alight with excitement, “Star Wars-!”

“NO!” All three of the others yelled back.

She scowled and threw up her hands, “Then why’d you even ask?!”

Mango watched as the argument continued with a quirked brow. Weird as it may have seemed, he was kind of enjoying their bickering more than he would any of the movies in question. As the petty disagreements continued, it occurred to Mango that they could be at this for quite some time, and so he should probably take a moment to check in on Gold. And Purple…

…Best get that over with.

Leaving the sound of squabbling behind him, Mango crept through the bedroom hallway, around the squeaky floorboards and towards his room- er, Purple’s room now, he supposed. Once stood in front of it, Mango stretched his hand towards the knob and found himself hesitating. The silence rang in the air around him, buzzing in tandem with the rapid beats of his heart. The door knob shrunk away from his shaking hand.

A vision of Gold’s glare, more angry at his own father than Mango had seen him get at anything else, played before his eyes as his son stood protectively in front of the child that replaced him Purple, screaming and yelling, ‘Get the hell out, haven’t we suffered enough-?!’ Mango shook his head free of the vision, of the sudden panic, and took the doorknob in his hold. His hand defied his mind and refused to turn for but a moment before another long breath allowed him to regain control. With an exhale, he turned the knob and pushed the door open at last.

“Gold?” He called in warning, before pushing his way in, “Do you and Purple want to come watch a movie with-?”

The door swung open, revealing the once familiar room to be empty. Mango’s brow furrowed as he stepped forward, noting the subtle differences once again. How his normal deep orange bed sheets had been switched out for soft periwinkle. The dresser and mirror had both been pushed as close to the side as Purple could manage, making the space much more open than Mango was used to. An assortment of accessories decorated both, meticulously organized by type, size, and colour. Reflexively Mango reached out to straighten the mirror, frowning lightly as the reflecting light revealed smudges across the mirror’s surface. Small, minor imperfections, but ones that were easy to see.

Upon taking note of the mirror’s dirty state, Mango turned about and took in the room with new eyes. The covers were pulled back slightly, revealing wrinkled sheets underneath. A small trace of dust had returned from the mirror with Mango’s finger. Wind carrying the sun’s warmth swept through the room, infiltrating through the singular open window.

The fear was all too quickly becoming familiar, but as quickly as they forced themselves in Mango pushed the intrusive thoughts out. Purple just… had to be bad at cleaning. No doubt that miserable failure of a father a King couldn’t teach them how to take care of themselves.

(He couldn’t even take care of his own child.)

So Purple was just bad at cleaning, then they and Gold moved on to Gold’s room. Not a problem. Mango would just move on, too.

Mango made quick strides out of the room, clenching his shaking hands into shaking fists. All he could hear was his own pounding heart and quickened breathing in his ears as he exited his- Purple’s room and stomped over to Gold’s. There was no hesitation this time. Mango took hold of the knob with a too tight grip and pushed the door open, scanning his eyes across the all too familiar room.

Nothing. There was no one there.

“Oh no, please no…!” Mango gasped out. His lungs burned as he struggled to pull in air, stumbling backwards out of the room before racing for the final unchecked place in the house. Mango wrenched open the door to the bathroom with a loud slam, his hyperventilating hastening as he was once again greeted with an empty room. “No, no, no, no, no…!”

Gold was gone. Gone gone gone gone gone-!

Thundering footsteps echoed down the hallway, shocking Mango out of his stupor long enough to look up at the three stick figures at the other end of the hallway. Green stood right ahead of him, stiff as a board, with Blue and Red flanking him on each side. His eyes widened at the sight of Mango, darting briefly to Purple’s door before returning to meet Mango’s gaze.

“You knew,” The revelation escaped with the breath he’d been holding, and before his thoughts could catch up he was bolting towards the troublesome trio, “You knew they were gone!” His hands twitched to the tune of his stuttering breath, yearning for him to reach out, to take this little liar, little deceiver, and try to inflict even half of the pain that was clawing at the inside of his chest.

Before his hands could reach their intended target, the little menace was suddenly pushed back behind Blue. Her eyes reflected nothing but coldness as she matched Mango’s glare, “You lay one hand on them,” She warned darkly, “And I’m more than happy to deliver another boot to the head.”

Mango’s eyes leapt between the three children – Blue’s wrath, Green’s palpable anxiety, Red’s guilty gnawing of the lip – they all knew. His mind flickered to all the unfortunate incidents that had occurred since then, finally seeing them for what they were: diversions. “It was all a distraction. Everything you brats did – the movies, spilling water on Yellow-”

“Don’t tell her,” Green pleaded weakly, “She’ll actually kill me.”

Ignoring that, Mango’s eyes darted to Red, who jumped slightly when their eyes met, “And you cut your hand on purpose!”

Wringing his wrapped hand, the red twit’s shoulders stiffened with tension as he responded, “It seemed like a good idea at the time…”

“And what diversion did you have in mind?!” Mango snipped at Blue.

“One where someone explains what the heck is going on!” The little brat retorted, voice pitching higher. She took a step back, arms spread wide to push Green and Red behind her.

The rage surged, and though the sight of those kids – with their fake fear and false confusion – caused his vision to run red, Mango managed to retain enough control to drive his fist into the wall instead of their heads. The bang of the wall crumbling around his hand reached his ear before the throbbing pain of his knuckles reached his brain. “Do you think this is a joke?!” He spat at the kids, feeling righteous satisfaction when all three of them flinched back at the tone of his voice, “While you all are having a grand old time, my kid,” His Gold, his baby, his little ray of sunshine in this pit of a world, “has been abducted by some miserable little purple bastard to do who knows what to him-!”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Red snapped, stepping out from behind Blue’s protective cover. Before either she or Green could react he began running his mouth, “Purple didn’t do anything wrong! They just wanted to make sure King’s okay-!”

“What?!” Asked Blue with comically owlish eyes.

“Red!” Green hissed at the same time.

Mango fell back, feeling as though he’d been kicked in the head once again, “You mean to say,” He growled between clenched teeth, “That MY kid was dragged into that den of terrorists by that irresponsible brat-?!” A sudden dizziness overwhelmed him, and it was only by the skin of his teeth that Mango was able to catch himself against the wall. His vision blurred as terrible thoughts crept like spiders in his brain: Each one carrying a new, even worse way for Gold to meet his fate.

“Look, it’ll- it’ll be fine!” Green shouted back, stepping forward in spite of Blue’s shielding arm attempting to hold him back, “Purple has their phone on them, okay? I’ll call them, and you can hear for yourself that Gold is just fine.”

Unless, of course, poor Gold was answering under duress, pressured by whatever scheme Purple had planned into lying, but before Mango could even voice the thought Green had begun dialing. The sleek black device was placed on speaker so that everyone present could hear it ringing. It held the dial tone once. Twice.

And then disconnected.

Mango’s breath stilled in his throat. What- what did that mean? A million scenarios played through his mind – none of them good. Purple, hands stained with code, dragging Gold’s lifeless body away. Gold lying on the forest floor, covered in burns and bruises while the Chosen One stood over him with flame in hand. Glitches and corruption creeping up on him from all sides, swallowing Gold whole as he screamed, Daddy, daddy, help me-!

Green dialed the number again, fingers stiff with nerves. This time there was no dial tone. Instead, a mechanical voice spoke in an irritatingly calm monotone, “We’re sorry, the number you are trying to reach is not available. Please leave a message after the tone-”

“Uh-” Green immediately hung up and tried again to call the number. Once again, that same infuriating voice gave the same generic message. “Um, okay, maybe- maybe Purple’s phone just died? Or, or they’re with King and Chosen, and can’t pick up right now! Or maybe-”

Excuse after excuse fell out of the little weasel’s mouth, each one wearing down Mango’s last nerve, until at last, finally, it broke with an audible snap. In an instant Mango had pushed Green back, getting in his face as all Green’s pathetic attempts at justification died on his tongue. “Do you even understand what is happening here?!” He screamed, vision so tunneled on Green that he barely took heed of Red and Blue flocking to his side and pushing him behind them, “My baby is out there, with terrorists and wild animals and who knows what else-?!” Just trying to imagine it was making Mango hyperventilate, “He’s all I have, and he could be in trouble, or hurt, or worse! And you just let him go without even telling his father! What if he’s dead out there, huh?! What will you brats do if you got my son killed?!”

“I was just trying to help my friend…” Green explained weakly, supported on both sides by his two companions.

“And if something bad happens,” The bitter thoughts escaped his mouth in rough, ragged tones, “It’ll be on you for letting them go.”

Green cringed away from him, a dark shadow falling over his eyes. A hand fell on his shoulder, Blue only sparing a single glare for Mango before directing her full attention to Green. Red, meanwhile, kept his eyes down, brow furrowing as he puzzled over the current situation. The silence between them was thick with tension and the buzz of Mango’s thoughts. How was he supposed to save Gold now? The Avery Woods were huge, and unlike the Chosen One they had no clue where to even start searching. If Gold was lost- or, or hurt, or Purple decided to just leave them somewhere, how was Mango going to find him? Of course he’d search that whole forest top to bottom – he’d burn it to the ground if he had to! But what if he couldn’t make it in time? What if Gold was already gone, and he was just standing here, wasting time like that joke of a king-!

“Oh! I have an idea!” Red suddenly shouted, drawing all eyes to him as he suddenly looked up with wide eyes. Without further explanation he took off, running back into the living room.

All of the sticks left behind stared after Red in a stupor. It took a few moments for Mango’s brain to reboot, and when it did he immediately registered severe indication. “Hey!” He called after the brat, marching after him with fast, heavy strides, “We’re not done here!” He could hear the others behind him, hear Yellow and Blue and Green squawking at each other, but it all blurred together into a jumble of noise as Mango’s eyes scanned the room. He knew Red had wandered over here, but where had he…?

“Behold!” A sudden loud bang rang through the living room as the trap door slammed open. From the dark depths emerged a tiny pink head, in that stupid square Minecraft style, which peered around curiously as it slowly rose, revealing a plump pink body, a pair of red hands, and then a familiar red stick head poking up with an ear to ear grin, “The ultimate tracker!”

The pig squealed once as Mango stared, utterly stupefied.

“A pig?” He asked dumbly, then repeated, just to make sure he wasn’t actually losing his mind, “Your plan is a pig?!” A Minecraft pig, on top of that. Just looking at the beady eyed thing was making Mango’s stomach clench.

“Not just any pig!” Red hopped out, cradling the Minecraft creature like one might hold one of those tiny yappy dogs, “Reuben! Our most special little boy! Yes you are!” Red pressed his face against the pigs, nuzzling it a little too enthusiastically, “Yes you are!”

“I forgot Reuben was still here,” Yellow confessed as Red drew closer to the rest, reaching over to give the pig scritches behind the ear, “His sense of smell is keener than a bloodhound’s! Even in a forest filled with critters, he’ll be able to track down Gold and Purple, no problem!”

Mango felt himself straighten up reflexively.

“Ah, yes!” Green cheered, tripping over his own feet twice in his haste to reach the pig. He rubbed its ears and its chin, “Way to go Reuben! You’re gonna get so many treats after this~!”

“Not too many!” Red scolded, gently batting away Green’s hand.

“That thing can really track Gold?” Asked Mango. Something deep within him was screaming treachery; how dare he trust something from Minecraft?! But he’d given the food a chance – if only to avoid another mess like the fight this morning – and it had ended up being nigh indistinguishable from normal pancakes. So maybe… it was only the inside of the game that was evil? If this pig could really find his missing sunshine, then…

“Well, we’d need something with the stick’s scent to find them,” Red explained, all the while petting the pig from head to tail, “I doubt anything here has a strong scent of Gold anymore…” Mango’s heart tightened in his chest. To think, all it would take was two short years for Gold’s presence to disappear from his life… “But! We can use Purple’s stuff to find their trail! Green, you mind?” With a salute, Green stumbled with heavy steps back towards his hall – to Mango’s old room, presumably, to find something of Purple’s. It wouldn’t lead them directly to Gold, but if it could point them in the direction of his kid, Mango would take anything he could get.

He watched the corner where Green had disappeared for a long moment before turning around to Red and Blue. “How soon can you be ready to leave?”

“Oh, uh, immediately!” Red proclaimed. Without any warning a bar appeared above his head, gray like stone, that made a clicking noise when Red spun through icons of food and weapons like a roulette until he reached a symbol that looked like a lasso. A red leash then appeared in his hand, which he triumphantly connected to the pig,

Yellow snorted, her nose wrinkling, “Didn’t King say to keep anything Minecraft in the basement?”

“Well, the old man’s not here…” Red waggled his eyes in a teasing tone.

Yellow, in response, merely turned and pointed at Mango. Immediately he flinched back and shouted, “I am NOT King!” The response was more instinct than anything else. He thought of himself, with that crown and those dead eyes, and felt his stomach turn.

“There you go!” Red smiled smugly, crossing his arms, “What King doesn’t know won’t hurt him!”

Mango’s brow furrowed in irritation. That wasn’t quite the effect he’d intended…

“And besides!” Red gestured with both arms towards Blue, who flinched back a little once brought into the conversation, “I’m not the only one who snuck stuff into their inventory! You were down there all morning, and I know Green snuck down there last night! C’mon,” He jabbed his elbow into his friend’s side, and she crossed her arms and pouted in the opposite direction, “Show us your inventory, Blue~!”

“I… may have grabbed a few things,” She confessed, prizing a gasp from Yellow, “B-but only because I feel weird having nothing on me! It-It’s Sec’s fault for always making us over prepare for everything!” She pointed accusingly at the stick on the couch, who responded to her slander by letting an exhausted moan escape their lips and continuing to slumber on.

“Unbelievable,” Yellow shook her head in disappointment, “You idiots broke one of the few rules King set for us… and you didn’t even bother to get me anything!” She huffed and crossed her arms, pushing back into the armchair.

A look that was equal parts guilt and annoyance appeared on Blue’s face as she scanned through the inventory bar so quickly Mango couldn’t quite catch any of the items in it, “Uh, um, you can have… this?” She selected a pickaxe, and the tool appeared in her hands. She dropped it on Yellow’s lap, and the injured stick looked less than impressed.

“Gee,” She gazed up, mildly unamused. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to get tons of mining done… from this armchair.”

“There is just no pleasing you,” Red shook his head.

It took everything in Mango to keep himself back. These kids and their- their negligence could cost him (his Gold, his sunshine, his baby, his world-) and they didn’t even care. It was like this was all one big joke to them, and he wondered, darkly, how quickly they’d shut up if he punched another hole in the wall.

(He was sorely tempted to punch a hole through one of them.)

Thundering footsteps alerted the group of Green’s return moments before his ugly mug appeared from around the corner. He was out of breath, raised hand clutched around a cheap brush like it was a lifeline. The violet strands of hair were an obvious indicator of who the item belonged to. Mango pushed away from the wall upon seeing it.

“I’ve…” Green paused to drink down a large gulp of air like a man dying, “I’ve got it…”

“That good enough?” Mango addressed the question to the room at large, but it was Red who jumped up to answer to the affirmative, “Good, then we’ve got no time to waste. You three,” He pointed individually to Red, then Blue, and then Green. “I’ll need your assistance. We’re leaving. Now. Come on, move!”

“Wait!” Yellow straightened up, arms stiff as she tightened her hold on the pickaxe. “Hold up! They can’t all go! Someone needs to stay here with Sec!” Her eyes left Mango’s to fly to Second, who had managed to sleep through all the commotion.

Mango could hear his teeth grind as the protest created a new surge of rage in him, “They should have thought of that,” He growled, “BEFORE they let my kid get dragged off to fight terrorists.” Yellow’s eyes narrowed in on him, daring to show irritation, and Mango couldn’t quite hold himself back. “When you screw up, you take responsibility for it. Something you feral brats would know if anyone cared enough to teach you.”

If Yellow’s eye twitch was anything to go by, Mango had hit a nerve. She growled and began to rise up out of her armchair, only to be pushed back into it by Blue.

“He’s right,” Green spoke up, stumbling forward with one hand clutched around his other arm, “Red and I were in on it, so the two of us have to make it right.”

“Even if I wasn’t, I’d need to go anyways. I’m the best at handling Reuben.” Pointed out Red.

Clearly sensing that the tide was turning against her, Yellow turned to Blue, her expression almost frantic as she pleaded, “Blue, come on! Back me up here!”

A war raged behind Blue’s eyes as she shifted her gaze to Second, sleeping off their fever on the couch. She then looked to Yellow, who anxiously leaned forward as much as her injured leg would allow, matching Blue’s stare with wide, intense eyes. Finally, her attention turned to Green, who was leaning against the wall, watching Red secure the pig’s harness with glossy eyes. It was here the Blue’s eyes lingered, watching Green for a painfully long moment. Her voice was quiet when she finally, finally answered, “If- If someone gets hurt, I have to be there.”

Yellow’s breath hitched when she heard that. Her hand ran through her hair, pushing the bangs away from eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You can’t be serious…” She muttered.

“It’ll be fine!” Blue assured the other with a wave of her arms, scrambling over to organize items on the coffee table. A Minecraft bucket full of water appeared in her arms, and she plopped it down in the newly emptied spot with a grin, “It’ll be hours before Sec needs another dose of medicine! Just let them sip some water if they need it, and it’ll be good!” For good measure, she put yet another item from Minecraft – a cloth one, it looked like – right next to the bucket.

“Do you even hear yourself?!” Yellow shouted back. Her grubby claws dug into the armchair, ruining its surface, “You’re leaving the stick with the twisted ankle alone with someone who’s actually sick! If something happens, I won’t even be able to stand up!”

That was a valid point, as much as Mango hated to admit it. If there was a medical emergency, Yellow at least needed to get around well enough to call for help. So, for everyone's peace of mind, he sharply marched back towards the bedrooms, opening a cabinet off to the side to reveal that King had not changed the location of the cleaning supplies in the last two years. There was a touch of relief in at least something not changing, but Mango quickly brushed that aside and took hold of the broom, walking back into the living room and unceremoniously depositing the long instrument in Yellow’s lap.

“There,” He ignored the shock on Yellow’s face as he spoke, “If you absolutely need to get up, you can use that as a crutch.”

“Are you kidding me…?” She asked helplessly, taking the broom in both hands.

Turning his back on Yellow and Second, King briskly marched towards the door and shouted behind him, “Come on! All of you! Let’s go!” Despite the tantrum Yellow was having, Mango wasn’t particularly concerned. Second had slept through the whole movie, and the arguments that had followed – he doubted they’d be any higher maintenance than just needing some water. Even an idiot could handle that. The rest of them had something far more important to take care of.

If Gold was lost, Red and his pig would find him. If he was hurt, Blue could patch up his wounds. If he was in trouble, Green would take responsibility and get him out of it. And if he was scared, then Mango would tear whatever was threatening his sunshine to shreds.

He wasn’t King. He wouldn’t lose his Gold.

With a harsh yank, Mango ripped the front door open and stepped outside for the first time since coming to the future. The internet, harsh and cruel, had barely changed since his sunshine had been killed. Flowers bloomed, birds sang their sweet songs, a warm winded hit his face with the distant scent of pollen and cut grass… it was sickening. How could the world just kept going on, as if it hadn’t suffered such a great loss?

“We need to hurry,” Red’s words cut through Mango’s loathing, forcing him to direct his attention back at the Red stick. He cradled Reuben under one arm while the other was held up to shield his eyes from the sun as he scanned the horizon. When faced with the questioning stares of his two friends and Mango, Red elaborated with a finger pointed up towards a group of gray clouds gathering in the distance, “Reuben’s good, but even he can’t track them if their scent’s been washed away. We gotta move quick, in case it rains.”

With a round of nods, the four sticks began their march towards the forest.

Gold… Mango poured his everything – his heart, his soul, his life – into a single, desperate plea: Hang in there, please. Daddy’s coming for you.

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

If the Ethernet Tunnels hadn’t fallen into hazardous disrepair before they were sealed off, they definitely had in the time since. Though Purple had never even seen an image of them before, they knew that the metal floor was supposed to be lined with bright lights to help traveling animations find their way; instead it was near pitch black, completely swallowed by shadows, with only the wayward faulty bulb or sunbeam breaking through from the surface to illuminate their path. Instead of silence, the endless tunnels echoed with the creaks and groans of settling structures and the drip, drip, dripping of an unknown liquid somewhere in the far distance. Every corridor was identical to the one before. More than once, Purple found themselves wondering if they were just going around in circles.

But they couldn’t afford to lose confidence now. Not with Gold gripping on to their hand like a lifeline.

“Aw, man,” Gold whispered, his voice soft and low as though still trying to avoid notice, “This place is freaking creepy. And HUGE. It feels like we’ve been walking around forever!” Forever being a grand total of two hours or so, though Purple could hardly fault him for losing track of time in this monotonous tunnel, “Just how big is this place, anyways?”

“Well,” Purple hummed and stroked their chin with one finger, “Supposedly it runs the length of the entire internet, sooo… pretty big, I’d say.”

“Oh,” There was a tense pause, and when Purple glanced back at Gold, they found him glancing around nervously. Purple was about to prompt Gold to continue when he did just that, “Sooo… what’s stopping us from, say, ending up in another website? I’m open to adventure and all, but I’d rather not leave the City, if we can.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Purple stopped and gestured to one of the metal rings that held the tunnel in place. On it, nearly completely hidden by the shadows that ruled the tunnels, was a singular plaque. The series of numbers embossed on it weren’t easy to see, but Purple could make out enough of it to know what they were looking at, “See that? The numbers on it represent the specific web page you’re on. That is the number that represents the City. As long as we can see a plaque with that specific series of numbers, we’re good.”

As Gold stepped away from Purple just a little bit to examine the sign for himself, his hold on Purple’s hand tightened. While he examined it Gold mumbled, “Would’ve been nice if they’d included some exit signs, too.”

To that Purple scoffed, “Yeah, no kidding. Guess Rocket Corp took all that stuff down when they sealed the place up. Hopefully we’ll run into an elevator soon.”

Gold suddenly stopped, jolting Purple to a halt as well. They swiftly turned towards the kid and felt their mild annoyance melt away at Gold’s aghast expression.

“We’ve been looking for an elevator this whole time?!” He asked, shock causing the volume of his voice to increase.

“Yeah?” Purple couldn’t help the bubbly chuckle that escaped with the question. Another look at sweet little Goldie told Purple that he was, in fact, serious. “Oh. You really didn’t know?” When Gold frantically shook his head, Purple went on to explain, “The Ethernet Tunnels are divided into four levels: We’re on level four, the tunnels themselves. They span across the whole web and connect every single website. What we fell down must have been a connection shaft. Since the web is constantly evolving, new ones crop up from time to time.” With their free hand, Purple pointed upwards. “The next floor up, level three, is temporary housing for new immigrants. They stayed there while their paperwork was being processed. It’s nowhere near as big as the floor we’re on, but it’s still pretty huge. Like, about the size of a typical hotel, I think.”

That was met by a furrowed brow as Gold’s gaze followed Purple’s finger. Purple paused to give him a chance to ask questions, but none came, so they continued.

“Floors two and one are both just offices. Floor two was where they did in-processing for immigrants coming in from the world wide web. Floor one was for out-processing sticks leaving the city.” Briefly, Purple glanced upward, scanning the ceiling, “If we’re lucky, we’ll come across one of the elevators. I doubt we could get them running anytime soon, but the emergency staircases are supposed to be right next to them, and those connect all four floors. If we can’t, though, then we may be able to find one of the maintenance hatches scattered throughout all four levels. They don’t directly connect all levels like the stairs do, but there are supposed to be more of them. That’s where I’m hoping we’ll find our exit; the main entrances are probably sealed over, but there are supposedly a lot more emergency exits. Rocket Corp’s got a good rep, but they’re still a corporation, so I’m willing to bet they missed a few: That’ll likely be our exit point.”

“Oh, wow!” Exclaimed the younger of the two. Purple didn’t find the information particularly interesting, but for some reason Gold was hanging onto his every word, “I never knew that! I mean, I knew what the Ethernet Tunnels were, but I never knew they worked like that!”

Purple hummed, stroking their chin as they thought it over, “That makes sense. The Ethernet Tunnels have been sealed for a long time. I’ve only ever seen pictures in history books.”

“Me too!” Gold exclaimed, then asked, “So… how come you know so much about them?”

With a casual smile, Purple responded, “My Pops taught me.”

There was a sudden shift in Gold – a tension that caused the hand holding Purple’s to tighten unexpectedly. “Your… Pops?” He repeated questioningly.

Some alarm bell, an old warning of danger that Purple had come to associate with bullies or monsters, suddenly began ringing violently in Purple’s ears. They shouldn’t have said that. They should NOT have said that. Whenever Pops came up, whether through an old story or some lesson they’d taught Purple or some little reminder, it made King give him this Look, the same mournful look he’d get whenever Gold was on his mind. Even before seeing King’s reaction, a part of Purple had been aware their upbringing wasn’t normal. Most kids didn’t screw up training so bad they’d get bruises all over their body; they didn’t have to hear their parent cry and hold them close, terrified that some unknown specter would swoop in and destroy their lives.

Most kids weren’t such failures that their own parent would leave them behind, screaming that they wouldn’t stick around to watch their family die.

Glancing back at Gold, Purple carefully assessed his body language. His shoulders were square and stiff, and his eyes were wide, with worried wrinkles inherited from his father. The sight forced Purple to take a breath: They could do this. Just… skirt around the weird stuff and reassure Gold that everything was okay.

“Yup!” They answered back, forcing more nonchalance into their voice than they felt, “My Pops immigrated here a long time ago, and they made sure I knew how this place worked in case I ever wanted to leave the city.” Leave the city, have to flee due to some incoming disaster… those were basically the same things, right? “So… yeah.”

When Purple once again checked in on Gold, they found the kid looking like they were trying to smile through sucking on the world’s sourest lemon, which made Purple cringe. Was even that too weird for such a normal kid? Was Purple so weird he’d take back the whole ‘sibling’ thing?

They ignored how the thought made their stomach churn.

“It’s… it’s cool that your Pops taught you things like that,” Gold eventually piped up, cutting through Purple’s racing thoughts, “Dad tried to teach me how to do his boring techie stuff, but it went right over my head. I thought he’d be upset about it, but he just laughed off how bad I was. Said everyone had their own thing, and it was okay if my thing wasn’t the same as his.”

A genuine smile lit up Purple’s face. That was just like the Old Man, sentimental fool that he was. “My Pops tried to teach me how to fight like they did,” Purple revealed without thinking, “But I was a terrible student. I’d go through these long drills for hours and hours, but no matter how hard I’d try I’d still get…” Beaten down, pinned to the ground, that furious voice pounding in their ear about all the dangerous, terrible things out there that would get Purple if they weren’t careful, weren’t strong enough, weren’t good enough…!

Sudden pressure squeezed Purple’s hand so tight it began to ache, forcing them to look back at Gold, who returned their stare with impossibly wide eyes.

That look was like cold water on Purple’s face, suddenly jolting them out of their stupor. Shoot, they’d made it weird. Gold’s eyes were suddenly like needles piercing into Purple’s brain, and they quickly forced themselves to look away, dragging Gold along behind them. “Uh, anyways! I’ll keep an eye on the plaques, so we won’t need to worry about accidentally leaving the city.”

“...Okay…” Gold mumbled, and Purple wondered if it was possible for another tunnel to open up beneath them and swallow them whole. The silence weighed heavy on Purple’s shoulders for maybe a full minute before Gold spoke up again, “You know, you probably only had such a hard time learning to fight because you had a sucky teacher. If you want, I can show you the right way to fight.”

Perking their head up, Purple swiveled their head around to see Gold beaming brightly at them. It astonished Purple, leaving them breathless for a long moment, but it wasn’t long before they found themselves smiling back. Gold was just like the gang, in a way – sweet and perfect, but still somehow finding room in his heart for Purple. It was a bittersweet sensation, but one that made the violet stick feel lighter, softer. Like they could be good enough, one day.

“Heh, thanks,” Purple returned their attention to the path ahead; this time, to keep them from tripping up or missing their stop instead of to avoid Gold’s gaze, “But I’m actually learning to fight from the others. They all used to live in a fighting simulation, so they know their stuff. Well, except for Sec, because… you know.” With one hand, Purple gave an exaggerated shrugged, “I guess they learned the same way I did. The lot of them are pretty good teachers, but they make me take a lot of breaks for some reason.”

“That’s normal,” Gold scolded, never once losing his smile, “You should take regular breaks when you train! Otherwise you can get hurt.”

Purple hummed dismissively to that, “I guess. But I’m used to a lot worse.”

“…Well… that… just gives you an unfair advantage…” Gold pointed out, his voice going a little higher. It was sweet of Goldie to try and make Purple feel better like that, so Purple rewarded his kindness by falling back enough to give Gold a gentle pet on the head. In response, Gold stuck his tongue out at Purple teasingly.

The newfound upbeat mood continued as they rounded the corner, despite the dank tunnels they were stuck in, and it only got better when Purple spotted rungs of rusty metal running up the wall, indicating a ladder that must have led to one of the maintenance hatches. Once they identified it, Purple immediately dragged Gold over to show off their discovery.

In turn, Gold flapped his free arm excitedly. “Finally, progress!” His bright grin stretched from ear to ear, visible even in the darkness.

“Heh, I’ll go up first,” Purple stated, then gazed down at their intertwined hands. Just… had to let go. Let go of Gold’s hand. Release Gold so they can climb up the ladder. Relax their hand muscles and let. Gold. Go.

Gold’s eyes flickered between their interlocked hands and Purple’s face, taking Purple’s hesitation with silent acceptance. Eventually Purple was able to force themselves to release their hostage, and found that their hand now felt oddly cold. Refusing to dwell on the sensation, they instead made their way upwards. The maintenance hatch was old, and the lock was rusted, so all it took was a rough yank for Purple to open their path. Aged metal joints complained with high, volatile screeches that assaulted Purple’s ear drums with piercing pain as they forced the hatch open, ending with it smacking the floor of the third level with a loud bang.

A pungent scent of mold and dust and burnt rubber wafted in the air as Purple pulled themselves up first, then offered their aid to Gold. They’d ended up in a hallway on the third floor, stretching in both directions with doorways placed periodically along the walls. A single light struggled to function, flashing irregularly and causing a minor ache inside Purple’s skull.

“Ugh,” Gold wrinkled his nose, “Somehow this floor is worse than the last one.”

“No kidding,” Purple muttered in agreement, straining their ears for any sign of life, or danger, or anything. They got nothing but silence; not even any airflow to indicate an exit one way or another, “But we’ve gone upwards, which is… progress. Come on, let’s keep moving.”

Unlike the spiraling tunnels beneath them, the third level was structured more like an actual building and less like a tangled web of hallways and corridors. Of course, the trade-off for such structure was that, instead, they got an unsettling liminal experience. The patterns of tearing wallpaper and crooked doorways repeated over and over again, broken only by the occasional door having fallen in from disrepair, or a turn into another endless hallway of doors and turns. Their footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, returning to them in triplicate, making two pairs of feet sound like four, or eight, or twenty in the distance. Purple knew there were too many to come from just them, but whenever they stopped, they could never pinpoint the direction of the footsteps.

This place was driving Purple nuts.

Rumbling rocks, echoing as loudly in the silent hallways as an avalanche on the mountain, suddenly assaulted Purple’s eardrums from basically nowhere. Their body reacted without thinking, throwing themselves in front of Gold with a sharp cry of, “Stay back!” and glaring down at the noise, prepared to tight tooth and nail to defend their charge.

A little pink nose poked up at the two sticks, frozen with fearful eyes and fur on end. Purple and the little rat stared each other down for one second, two, three… and then it scurried off with a frightened squeak.

Heat began to pour into Purple’s cheek. That was- that was not the best impression to make in an emergency. Though they knew they needed to face Gold, Purple couldn’t bring themselves to turn around. Instead they kept their arms up and their head forward, not daring to face any of the disappointment or mockery that could come from a professional fighter seeing Purple react to a damned rat like that.

Gold’s hand came to rest on Purple’s shoulder, and though they still refused to look back, they could hear the nerves in his voice, “Hey, I think you got ‘em, Purple. Why don’t we take a break?”

That, at last, got Purple to finally turn around and face Gold, “I’m fine.”

“Oh, I know!” Gold immediately rebuffed, “It’s just, we’ve been walking for a while, and I was just thinking, we should save our strength, you know? No idea how long we’ll be down here.”

Just the thought of that made Purple clench their teeth, brow furrowing. Cursors, Gold had just learned he would be dead in a few short months, and what did Purple do? Drag him into the forest and get him stuck in a sealed off tunnel, trapped and lost with the stick who replaced him got him into this mess in the first place. Hastily, as though to push any lingering fear from Gold’s mind, Purple jumped in front of the other and placatingly held out their hands, “We’re not going to be down here long! We’ve got a plan, remember?”

Gold nodded along, biting his lip as he watched Purple.

“And even if we can’t find our way our, we have a back-up plan,” As a reminder, Purple removed their cell phone from their pocket and held it up in demonstration, “We can always call for help if we really need-”

BRRRRIIIIIIING-

The familiar notes of Purple’s ringtone echoed through the empty hallways. By instinct alone Purple leapt back with a frightened squeal and threw the phone as hard as they could against the wall. The loud echoes were exchanged for a singular explosive crash. Its remains hailed down onto the floor and clattered as they bounced off the strange metal. Then the world went still, the only sounds remaining being the two sticks’ heavy breathing and Purple’s heart attempting to pound its way out of their chest.

After a moment, the full weight of what just happened hit Purple. “...shoot.”

“Did you see who was calling you?” Gold asked, nervously peeking out from behind Purple. He looked so tiny, all hunched in on himself, and it only made Purple feel worse.

All Purple could do, however, was shake their head, “No, but I’m guessing it was either Green or King,” No one else would call them – nobody had any reason to, “Either way, we’re probably busted.”

Taking a few steps forward, Purple knelled down and picked up the shattered remains of their cellular device, wincing as a few broken pieces of glass fell from the electronic corpse to the ground. It was safe to say that Plan B was officially a bust. Not that Purple had anyone to blame but themselves. With a sigh, they pocketed the remains of their phone and picked themselves up.

“Hey,” Something heavy weighed down Gold’s voice, something that made the hair on Purple’s neck stand on end, “Do you hear that?”

Instead of questioning Gold, Purple clammed up and squeezed their eyes shut, focusing all of their attention on their ears. The rat scurried around nearby. Water dripped, dripped, dripped off in the distance. And there, even softer, was what Gold was referring to: a distant, rhythmic clack, clack, clack that was getting louder and faster.

Oh. Oooh. Of course. Because apparently not enough was going wrong today.

Without a word Purple grabbed Gold’s hand and pulled the other stick into one of the rooms off to the side. It was once a tiny family apartment, and though it had been mostly cleared out, Rocket Corp had apparently not bothered with some of the cheaper, bulkier items. Various units of shelving and storage had been left behind, and while the mattress of the bed was gone, the frame was not. Various papers and rubble littered the floor beneath their feet, crunching as Purple dragged Gold through it. Surveying the layout of the apartment quickly, they made a beeline towards the nearby coat closet. Gold was shoved through first, and Purple quickly followed after. There was enough space for the two of them, but only just, leaving Purple uncomfortably claustrophobic. If Gold had any complaints about suddenly being shoved into a closet, he was kind enough not to voice them.

Within the closet time seemed to pass slower. Each minute stretched into hours, leaving Purple to suffocate as the closet’s darkness closed in on them. Tension rang in the air like a siren as the sound of footsteps, which had been muffled by the layers of walls between them, quickly came into focus once again. Instinctually Purple pressed their hand against their mouth with more than enough pressure to muffle their breathing, and Gold’s hands, which had been nervously clinging to Purple’s arm, tightened their grip to an almost painful degree.

The footsteps, after an eternity of echoing louder and louder, faster and faster, finally stopped outside their room. Purple’s heart pounded in their ears as they kept one hand clasped over their mouth and reached the other to rest on Gold’s, to keep the kid calm and secure by their side.

“It was somewhere aroun’ here, I’m sure of it!” A brash, loud voice called out in the hall. It was heavy and deep, and something about the suddenness of it made Purple shiver. In response, Gold’s other arm snaked around Purple’s, holding on to the limb for dear life.

“Hmph,” Another voice, scratchier and softer, “Okay, let’s begin combing the place, top to bottom. Hatchet, you and Ax start at the west end. Katana and I will tackle the east end, then we’ll close them in.”

A feminine voice responded, “Isn’t this a little excessive? This place was chosen for us specifically because it’s sealed off from the public. Nobody’s supposed to be able to get in.”

“Can’t be too careful,” The softer voice admonished, “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves too soon. The last thing we need is our targets to take note of us before we’re prepared. The secret weapon for dealing with the super stick isn’t even ready yet.”

A chill went down Purple’s spine. They… could be talking about Chosen One, but…

“We all heard the noise, Katana,” A fourth voice, deep and smooth, chided, “Unless you’re assuming there’s a gas leak and we’re all going crazy?”

“I’m assuming,” The feminine one – Katana – spat back, “That Boss missed a radio or something when clearing the place out, and it went off. Or that one of you idiots smuggled in an unapproved electronic. Not like it’d be the first time, HATCHET.”

The first voice came back, “You can’t prove that belonged to me.”

“It literally had your name on it-”

“Enough!” The soft voice attempted to yell, but their vocal cords clearly weren’t strong enough to carry at that volume, leaving the voice to awkwardly squeak, “You have your orders! Katana, you’re with me. Hatchet, Ax, clear the west end. And if you need incentive, think of it as training. Sticks living on a PC will have every advantage: If this attack is going to be successful, everything will need to go perfectly. Now, move!”

There was no more talking after that, just the sounds of frantic footsteps as everyone scrambled to follow orders. Even after they’d disappeared into the distance, Purple waited with bated breath until the silence had overtaken everything before slowly, carefully, pushing the door open. Gold tried to join them, but Purple held out a hand and kept him rooted in place until they personally vetted the place to ensure that there were no nasty surprises waiting around the corner.

It was only once Purple had cleared the area that they let Gold out in the open, and even then they took hold of Gold’s hand and dragged him behind them as they moved from room to room, using the doorways to take cover and listen out for the incoming footsteps of whatever illegal sort had taken shelter in these abandoned tunnels. And while they tried to keep their thoughts on the present, on to making sure the Old Man’s kid got out of this mess in one piece, Purple couldn’t help how their thoughts drifted back to the strange sticks’ conversation.

“The secret weapon for dealing with the super stick… Sticks living on a PC… If this attack is going to be successful…”

Worry sat hard and heavy in the pit of Purple’s stomach, gnawing at them to the point where they almost didn’t hear Gold as he risked speaking up again, “So, I know this seems bad, being stuck down here with some sort of street gang, but, on the bright side, the fact that they’re down here at all means you were right! Rocket Corp missed a section when they sealed everything off! That or they managed to open it up – either way, we’re not stuck down here!”

Gold’s elation was like a bee buzzing at the edge of Purple’s hearing – faint and distant, totally consumed by the worries echoing through their mind. Sticks on a PC were rare – after all, who would willingly live in a place controlled by humans. And sticks with super-powers were even rarer, rare enough that they could only be talking about… them.

Their friends were in danger. Their friends (who forgave them, gave them another chance, made them better with every smile and hug and laugh-) were in danger (Was this what they were hiding, did they already know, what was going on-?)

While Purple had been lost in thought, Gold had used the opportunity to tip-toe in front of them, and it took three waves of his hand before Purple snapped back into reality. When they met Gold’s eyes they could see a sheen of worry marring the hope in his eyes. That, more than anything, woke Purple up from their sudden stupor.

“Hey,” Gold broke the silence gently, mindful of the strange sticks wandering the hall, “Are you okay?”

And before they could even think to stop themselves, Purple’s mouth was open and words were falling out, “They’re after my friends.”

Purple didn’t even have time to regret their words before Gold was on full alert, “Wait, what?! For real?!” He snapped in a whisper, “Are you sure?!”

There was no stuffing that cat back in the bag. All Purple could do was nod, “Yeah, pretty sure.” Their mind was abuzz with scattered worries bouncing around their skull like a rubber ball. There was a possibility – a slight possibility – that they weren’t talking about Purple’s friends, but given the group’s luck and recent strange behavior, the probability was low, at best. “If they aren’t talking about Sec and the gang, I’ll jump into lava.” At Gold’s sudden panicked gaze, Purple quickly added, “In Minecraft.”

Obviously, that did little to relieve the other stick.

“Look, I,” Purple sighed, dragging their hand down their face, “I know you don’t know them very well, but… I owe those guys big time.” If someone had told the Purple of two years ago that they’d make friends with a bunch of borderline co-dependent PC dwellers, Purple would’ve laughed in their face. But after all the conflict, all the betrayal, after everything they’d been through together, they’d forgiven and embraced Purple as quickly and easily as if they’d always been one of the gang. Being around them made Purple want to be better… sometimes, they even felt like they could be a good person one day. And it was all because of them. “If someone’s trying to hurt them, I have to do something.”

They had to. For the sake of the ones who’d shown Purple what it really meant to be loved.

At first Gold looked conflicted, chewing his lip and furrowing his brow, but it only took seconds for the look to harden into steely resolve, “Okay,” He agreed, nodding with a confidence Purple had never felt in their life. A twinge of sourness ran through them; how could he be so sure of himself in the face of the total disaster this mission had become? “Then I’m coming with you!” A wild grin stretched across his face, “Let’s smash those bad guys!”

“No!” Purple scolded in a harsh whisper, their heart leaping up into their throat, “We’re not fighting anyone! We’re just going to… do some recon. Investigate. Maybe sabotage some stuff. But if any of those creepos find us, we’re not fighting. We’re running. Got it?”

While speaking this dire warning, Purple made sure to grab Gold’s arm with their firmest grip and stare directly into his eyes. Gold needed to understand how serious Purple was about this. No matter how much danger the others were in, they couldn’t risk Gold’s life. Not when the Old Man just got him back.

Gold slumped as though disappointed, but nodded his agreement. “Okay… no fighting.”

A relieved exhale escaped Purple’s mouth. “Good. Now, what direction did those weirdos come from?”

Making sure to keep their ears open, Purple lead Gold down the hall in the direction that the thugs had come from. Knowing that there were suspicious sticks – dangerous sticks – roaming the halls of the underground complex had Purple’s every nerve on edge. They crept along slowly, carefully, hand in hand with Gold, listening for the locations of the others as they moved from passageway to passageway and ducking into doorways to hide whenever the sounds of footsteps got too loud.

Countless minutes stretched into countless hours before Purple and Gold turned a corner to find a sudden light pouring out of one of the rooms. Gold gasped when it hit his eyes, “Purple-”

“I know,” They responded, keeping their grip on the other’s hand tight, “C’mon, let’s check it out.” Leading Gold onward, Purple sidled up to the wall and slid closer and closer to the light, their nose wrinkling as the smell of burning rubber hit them harder. Little particles of dust were illuminated by the light as they danced in the air. As they hit the frame of the open doorway, Purple squeezed Gold’s hand once, one little warning before they took a final breath to steady their shakes and ducked their head into the room.

The… empty room.

Ah. Cool. So Purple had been worrying for nothing.

Unlike the rooms they’d hidden in previously, this room was clean and well-organized… in comparison, at least. Though dust-free, the desk that took center stage in this room was covered in scattered papers that made quite an effective tablecloth for the boxes of takeaway that cluttered its surface. The kitchen, where Purple would have chosen to eat the food, was unavailable due to being cluttered with a number of wooden crates. Nearby, the source of the strange deathly smell: a glass bowl with used cigarettes, fresh enough to still be emitting little trails of gray smoke. Random devices were scattered about on the couch and floor, but given that those were likely password protected, Purple didn’t bother with them yet.

Instead, Purple dropped their backpack by the door (it was too bulky to sit comfortably with) and carefully lead Gold further in. The two took a seat at the table, which Purple noted was being lit not with an electrical light, but with a gas lamp that was clearly from some old game, though Purple was unable to tell which one. Across from them, Gold rested his hands on the table for but a moment before swiftly yoinking them away with a cringe. Something dark and, from the way Gold shook his hand, evidently sticky had remained on the table, and Purple politely kept themselves from laughing as Gold stuck out his tongue in disgust and swiftly wiped his hand again the table.

“Okay,” Purple piped up once Gold had settled down a bit, “Let’s see what we’ve got here…”

The two began looking through documents wordlessly; only the sound of distant footsteps and random creaking kept the buzz of silence away. To Purple’s surprise – and immense disappointment, to be honest – there were no codes or ciphers hiding the information that the papers contained. Each one spilled their secrets readily, and while some part of Purple felt a little put out, they inwardly acknowledged that it was for the best. They couldn’t afford to waste time here. Not when lives were on the line.

(Green’s and Sec’s and Blue’s and Red’s and Yellow’s and they hadn’t forgotten about the Old Man, still out there, still approaching the CURSORS DAMNED CHOSEN ONE as if that was a normal thing to do-)

So far, each document Purple examined was painting a pretty decent portrait of what was really going on here. The majority of them were financial records, indicative of purchases and sales made over the past, say, five years or so. What made them interesting beyond the math were the items purchased and resold – malware, spyware. All sorts of dark web trash ripe for the citizens of the City to victimize each other with.

Contraband like this could have only been smuggled in – Rocket Corp carefully controlled imports from other websites to prevent just this kind of stuff getting through. Though, in their desperation to control everything, it appeared they had accidentally created the perfect route to let in just the kind of trash they were trying to protect the city from.

Or, perhaps, not so accidentally… but that was an inquiry for another time.

“Hey, Purple…” Gold whispered loudly. Once he had Purple’s attention, Gold proceeded to slide over the document he was currently inspecting. Purple took it, brow furrowing, and flipped it around so they could read it properly. It was an inventory report. But the list didn’t contain any of the viruses or malware Purple would have expected. Rather, it listed quantities of guns, lasers, blades, grenades… and suddenly, the presence of the crates somewhere behind Purple became palpably tangible.

And yet, no secret weapon. There was nothing present that could stand up to even the display of power Second had put yesterday. Its absence clawed at Purple from the inside out. If the secret super-stick destroying weapon wasn’t here, then where was it?

With each answer they found, it felt like a million more questions spawned.

“Something doesn’t add up here,” Gold mused as though he were reading Purple’s mind, “Look at these records – their income is enormous, but they spent so much more than that on these weapons!” Gold turned around the document in his hands, which Purple could tell even from a distance was a bank statement regarding an overdrawn account. “So where’d the extra money come from? And there are a lot of package deliveries that they didn’t purchase. See? No dollar amounts, and the descriptions were redacted. What do you think those are?”

The secret weapon.

Purple swallowed back the sudden lump in their throat and instructed Gold, “Keep digging. There’s gotta something we missed.” With that the two dived back into the paperwork. Most of it was more of the same, just older. This operation had been going for at least five years, right under the City’s nose, and digging through financial documents confirmed Purple’s gut feeling that someone powerful was in on it – they were receiving subsidies during their early days, before the operation could support itself. Mildly interesting, but not what Purple was after, so they sent that to the back of their mind for later processing.

Every document had more and more of the same – sales records for viruses, purchase records for malware, purchase records for weapons, purchase records for vehicular parts… each dead end only compounded Purple’s frustration further. Some documents were even redacted, but Purple didn’t have the time or patience to try removing the ink keeping their secrets hidden. And then, underneath it all, Purple found it. A small thumb drive, darkly coloured and nearly hidden by the colour of the table.

Jackpot!

Without any warning, Purple snatched the tiny device and leapt out of their seat, racing towards where devices were haphazardly tossed on to the ground. Gold questioned after them, but Purple was too focused to respond, instead yanking the laptop open a little too hard and eagerly powering it on.

It loaded…

…and loaded…

…and… loaded… Cursors above, did they not take care of these machines at all?

Gold had, in the time since Purple had started up the machine, followed after them and took a seat next to them on the floor. Though they didn’t look back at the other, Purple could feel Gold’s presence looming over their shoulder. “So now we’re gonna hack ‘em?” Gold asked casually.

Since the loading screen had subsided to a log in screen, Purple put their focus on creating a new account. “I have absolutely no idea how to do that. But,” They held up the jump drive, “We can still use the laptop to access this, even if we can’t get into the main account.”

A light hum tickled Purple’s right ear before Gold asked, “Are you sure you should just create a new account? I mean, won’t that tip them off that someone went through their stuff?”

To that, Purple snorted, “And what are they going to do about it? Call the police?” They shook their head, “We’ll be long gone before that’s even an issue.”

With that, the new account finished setting up, and Purple swiftly plugged in the USB. The computer took its sweet time recognizing the device and loading its contents. When it finally finished, Purple could immediately see that the thing was full to the brim, but its contents were… mostly items Purple wasn’t able to open. Each one they attempted gave an alert that the software didn’t have the programs necessary to run them. But Purple remained persistent, digging through folder after folder, until, finally, they found an editable document the computer was able to draw to life.

Another minute or two of loading later, a blueprint flooded the screen of the laptop. It almost looked like a drawing of a stick at first glance, except for the notes scribbled in every margin denoting mechanized parts and motorized joints. It had weapons built into its system – blades and guns and lasers and… Purple didn’t even know what that one was supposed to be, but given the amount of force exertion the calculations nearby, it was capable of leveling buildings in the blink of an eye. Plenty of the document went over Purple’s head – the Old Man specialized in hardware and mechanics, so Purple was pretty clueless when it came anything software related, but from what they could extrapolate this thing was pretty extreme.

“Is that a robot?!” Gold exclaimed in a shrill whisper, which was still loud enough to make Purple’s heart jump, “Cooool!”

“NO! NOT cool!” Purple snapped back, feeling the pressure close in on their lungs. Their fingers shook as they removed the device from the computer with a sharp yank. “Do you have any idea how much trouble the others would be in if they actually had to fight this thing?!” They were good, but even without any experience with advanced robots, Purple could tell this thing was on a whole other level. “They’d get flattened in a half-second! And that’s being generous!”

“Hey, hey… don’t worry, it’ll be okay,” Gold placed a gentle hand on their shoulder, prompting Purple to look up at them while desperately trying to fill their straining lungs. The kid was smiling ear to ear, and in spite of themselves Purple felt their breath began to even out, “We just need to find this thing and smash it before it can hurt anyone. Then there won’t be any problem, will there?”

Reluctantly, Purple found themselves agreeing with Gold’s point, “They… did mention it was unfinished…” Purple recalled.

“See?” Gold defied all known laws of physics and somehow smiled even brighter than before. He took each of Purple’s hands in his own and helped the older stick stand, “You and me? We’ve got this. Now,” Gold let go of Purple’s hands, which immediately curled up on themselves at his absence, and pumped his fists excitedly, “Let’s go break their toys! To the illegal stuff pile!”

With that, Gold lead them over to the mountain of crates that had taken over the room’s kitchenette – a starting point Purple didn’t disagree with, as if the robot was incomplete, then the parts were likely buried in one of those boxes. The stacks were much taller than either of them – likely taller than the Old Man, even – and went back as deep as the kitchenette would allow. Without wasting time with words, Gold and Purple selected a stack at random and used two chairs and both of their combined strength to safely carry down the crate on the top. It was heavy; Purple’s arms shook as they lifted, and looking over at Gold, they couldn’t help but notice how he barely even seen phased by the weight. By the time they’d gotten that thing off the stack, Gold was supporting it mostly by himself, with Purple just present to keep it from unbalancing and crushing the other.

(He was strong, and sweet, and brave, and just… just perfect. It almost wasn’t fair. How could the Old Man ever think he could replace someone like Gold with someone like Purple?)

Once Gold had a good enough grip, Purple let go of the box entirely and hopped down from the chair to help Gold lower it to the ground. Like all of its sibling boxes, the crate was plain and wooden, with not even a number or letter setting its contents apart from the others. Its weight wasn’t quite so bad when Purple was on solid ground, so they took the entire weight – still heavy as all hell, though – while Gold hopped down.

Breathing heavily from the strain, Purple bent their knees and allowed the box to drop to the ground. It fell the final few inches with a bang and a-

Beep.

Purple froze. “Did- did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Gold asked nonchalantly, stepping up to the crate. He seemed entirely unbothered as he knelled down and began pulling at the lid with his bare hands.

Alarm bells were going off in Purple’s head. They- they could’ve imagined that. All of the events from the other day had left them skittish and paranoid. But they couldn’t quite shake the sudden sense of anxiety; every hair stood on end, and their breath caught in their throat. “Wait-!” Purple forced out, stretching their hand out to stop Gold-

-A second too late. The lid snapped away from the crate with a loud wooden crack, and along with it came a loud, much more twangy snap. A black wire hung from the lid of the box, and mere moments after Purple and Gold caught sight of it, the beeping came again. Beep. Beep. Beep. With each warning the device chirped out, the sound seemed to get louder and more frequent.

Shoot. Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot-!

Purple wasted no time. Beep. They grabbed Gold’s hand as firmly as they could and bolted towards the exit, cursing their own stupidity. Beep. The doorway felt miles away. Beep. The warning sounds of the device were getting closer and closer. Beep. Barely seconds apart – Beep – at this point. Beep. They weren’t going to make it. Beep. They weren’t. Beep. Going to. Beep. Make. Beep. It-!

With no time to spare, Purple did the only thing they could think of, and pushed Gold ahead of them before wrapping themselves as completely around the other as they could.

And then the crate behind them exploded in a barrage of fire and fury. Purple gasped as they felt the force and heat hit their back all at once, a burning pain that dug into their flesh and forced them to squeeze their eyes shut. Both Purple and Gold were tossed forward onto the ground. Cold tiles hit their limbs hard, but the blunt force of that was only a discordant yell in the background compared to the screaming agony of sensations coming from Purple’s back. It burned and it ached and it stung, and Purple could barely manage to keep breathing in and out as each attempt to fill their lungs compounded the pain threefold.

They spared only enough time to catch their breath before forcing their eyes open to the sight of Gold quivering underneath them, his golden curls fanning around his head like a halo. His hyperventilating was audible as his bugged out eyes kept locked on to Purple’s. Swallowing back a sudden urge to heave, Purple forced a grin, “You hurt?” They asked, their voice gritty with the strain of speaking.

“I-I’m okay,” Gold’s voice was soft and shaky, but other than some small scrapes and bruises, he didn’t seem to be hurt. A weight fell off of Purple’s chest, even as Gold continued, “But- but your back-”

“’S fine,” Purple assured them, forcing their shaky arms to push them backwards off of the other, “I’ve had worse.” Which… wasn’t really a lie. Painful as this was, it didn’t hold a candle to the existential terror of being deleted.

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t really seem to reassure Gold in any way. “But-”

“We’ve got bigger problems,” In spite of the pain, Purple forced themselves to stand, noting with relief that Gold followed suit quickly and without any visible strain. “No way the smugglers didn’t hear that. We gotta get out of here before we’re busted.”

Still, Gold’s protests persisted, “I know, but- can you even walk?!”

“Uh, yeah, what kind of baby can’t walk?” Purple teasingly reassured the other, and then to prove their point took a stumbling step forward. It shot a bolt of agony through their back muscles, but they managed to hobble along at a decent enough speed, “See? I’m good!” They’d reached the door at this point, and Purple took hold of their damaged but mostly in tact backpack. Even Purple knew trying to wear this thing again was a recipe for pain, so instead they merely slid the strap on to their shoulder. Still stung like hell, but they could tolerate it.

Gold looked skeptical, but a series of shouts distressingly close to their location did Purple the favour of shutting down any other arguments he could have made. Without any further warning Purple grabbed the other by the hand and forced him into a shambling run. Each step was like another ember of burning agony sliding across their back, but they ignored the ache and forced themselves forward as fast as they could manage.

Behind them, the volume of the footsteps didn’t get more distant. If anything, they seemed to be getting closer, which panicked Purple all the more. When they tried to move even faster than their current pace, the resulting jolt of agony was so great that Purple nearly dragged Gold into a stumble. Gritting their teeth, Purple decided instead to change strategies. They couldn’t outrun the threat in their current state – so the only option was to hide and wait it out. Purple turned down one hallway, and then another, before ducking into a random room off to the side and swiftly shutting the door behind them.

In this room, the bed frame was turned up, and while the closet was missing a door for whatever reason, a single desk remained, pushed against the wall. Purple wasted no time in dragging Gold over and shoving him underneath before crawling under themselves. Their back screamed in protest as they curled up to hide, but Purple dutifully blinked back the tears and bit into their own hand to hide their laboured breathing. Each footstep of the searching sticks outside was like an avalanche, their calling voices ringing like a toll of death in Purple’s ears, louder and louder with each commanding yell. They tried to focus on their own breathing, to distract themselves, but the distractions hammered away at them, bringing beady tears to Purple’s eyes.

“You can’t hide from us~” The sing-songy voice of who Purple recalled to be Hatchet echoed through the hallway right outside their door. “Are you in here?” A loud creak signaled the neighboring door being opened slowly. “Oh, no~? Then how about here?” Another creak, on Purple’s opposite side this time. Their heart began hammering faster as they recognized the tone of his voice as taunting. Was this guy toying with them?! “…Or perhaps… HERE!” The doorway to their hiding place burst open with an explosion nearly as loud as the one Purple had been caught in earlier. Light poured through the doorway as a flashlight bounced around the room. But how? How had he found them so easily…?

Sudden tapping on Purple’s arm drew their attention back to Gold, who had been curled up behind Purple all this time. With large, frightened eyes, he pointed at the illuminated floor, revealing a trail of red droplets that lead straight to the desk.

Oh. Oh Cursors, no. They were going to die. And it was all Purple’s fault.

“Now, now,” Hatchet’s voice chided as he made step after step closer, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Tell you what: I’ll give you until the count of ten to come out and surrender. Otherwise, I’ll radio my partner and we’ll drag you out by force. You ready?” Purple could practically hear the smirk in the jerk’s voice, and wondered if he’d figured out Purple and Gold were kids, or if he was smug because he knew they were hurt. It struck fear into Purple, because they knew he was right. There was no way Purple would be able to protect Gold if even one of those creep came after them.

What were they supposed to do? Should they just… surrender, and hope for the best?

“One…” Hatchet began to count aloud, his confidence carrying even into the numbers, “Two… three…”

Purple tried to move forward, to at least take a look at what they were up against before deciding on a course of action, but winced as their back violently protested the action.

“Four… Five… Six…”

Before they could think of anything else, Gold suddenly pushed past Purple, and nimbly dodged the violet stick’s attempt to grab them and pull them back. Purple fought against their own body as they tried to force themselves out, only for their shaking arms to collapse and drop them to the ground.

“Seven… Eight… Nine… Te-” Hatchet’s voice suddenly cut off, replaced instead by a loud wack. From their new spot on the floor, Purple could see the other stick drop as Gold moved back, hands clenched into fists. Hatchet stumbled from the force of the blow, and Gold took advantage of the opening to close in and sock him several times in the gut. The fifth punch was dodged, and Hatchet jumped back. “Heh, cute. Aren’t you a little far from the junior leagues, kid?”

In lieu of a retort, Gold squared up and moved to punch him again. Hatchet swiftly jumped out of the way and tuttered, swiftly pulling an ax out from a personal inventory.

“Have it your way, kid,” Hatchet warned, and moved forward, ax raised high above his head, ready to smash down into Gold-!

Except… he dodged.

Gold moved out of the way of each swipe of the slow, slow ax as elegantly as if he was dancing. Everything else – the darkness, the distant footsteps, even the burning pain from the explosion – it all faded away as Purple became enamored with Gold’s movements, with his smooth dodges and swift counters. The kid fought with a grace Purple had never seen before – not even in their friends. Hatchet’s cocky attitude melted away, his mask cracking as Gold out-sped him at every turn. He swung his ax wide, and Gold jumped into a spin kick and landed a hit directly on his face. Even the sweat gleaming off of Gold’s skin was perfect, making him glow like he was in the spotlight.

He was amazing. Strong and fast and technically skilled. No wonder King was so proud of his kid.

Even Pops would be proud if Gold was their-

Swiftly Purple shook that thought out of their head. No. They couldn’t think like that anymore. Especially not with the Old Man’s dead kid.

Growling, Hatchet locked into a combo, swinging at Gold wildly while Gold danced around his ax like it was his partner. When it went high, Gold ducked low; when it swung down, Gold pirouetted around it. And after a wide spin, which Gold had ducked and slid under, Hatchet had left himself wide open, and Purple could see what would happen long before Hatchet did. Gold’s sharp elbow jammed harshly into Hatchet’s skull with enough force for Hatchet’s eyes to roll into the back of his head as he dropped to the ground.

Behind him, Gold stood victorious, heaving breaths falling from his lips as he stared down at his fallen foe before directing his ire at Purple.

Purple flinched.

“We need to care of those wounds,” Gold spoke through gasping breaths. Then, as if expecting Purple to refuse, barked out, “NOW.” In a tone that brokered no argument.

With their mouth dry and their back radiating pain, Purple nodded.

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

Please be patient, the second part will be up shortly. It will be linked as 'Next Chapter' at the top of this post as soon as it's up, which may be before you finish this part anyways. This is a lot longer than I thought it'd be.

[wackpedion]

robot gore just hit different

[cactusringed]

Idk btw why my post about applying my medical knowledge and special interest to fics resonated so much with people lol. I shld elaborate on some of my thoughts...

[paintedskinenthusiast]

What if you were a bad person who died and then got a miracle chance to live again in the form you truly wanted, but then you wake up as someone you don't recognize for the first time you can remember and suddenly you realize you have to live this blank slate life completely aware of all the ones you left behind? That you haven't been reincarnated, just reborn into another body you don't know fully how to keep alive, forced to keep dragging all the ones you buried behind you? Is this actually the salvation you craved, or just another prison of your own choice?

(Further desc. under the cut to keep this post from being super long)

WAUGH I finally did it!! I finally made art for this silly au for @jentryweek !! It was supposed to be for yesterday, but I switched my idea half-way through and ran out of time. It works out though because I had something to post for today! Anyway, Balance's Emissary!

The au where I make Kit human, then simultaneously put him through the wringer and wrap him in a blanket repeatedly. Also he's a part of a supernatural demon+ghost hunting group made to support Zhongkui's ongoing effort to fix the aftermath of canon in the living world. I'm hoping to be able to make more for this au at some point! I've been thinking about it for months now sjegsj.

Bonus sketch exclusively for day 4 that I lost the energy for, based on old commercials and featuring two ocs:

(This sketch has an eye scar, but it's a detail I'm torn on including so it isn't present in the main pic).

[sinclairmaxwellao3]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60402076/chapters/160420759

Ashes of Eden - Chapter 5 - Fiona_of_Random_Fandoms, SinclairMaxwell - The Sun and Moon Show (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own]

[bornetoblood]

oc first past designs blast

[warsamongthestars]

A headcanon of headcanons for your CF99 day.

( CF99 is Clone Force 99. Because if I said Bad Batch, it could be confused for the TBBshow--and meesa gots some personal beef with dat. So… CF99. Plus, the acronym just sounds cooler. )

WHEN WRECKER WAS INJURED, THE OTHERS GOT THEIR TATTOOS

Judging by Wrecker's head, more than likely, a bomb or similar blast had gone off in his face. It pulverized his eye, probably the hearing on that side too. I generally think part of his enhancement is that he has unbreakable bones, hence why his skull is fine.

He has a cybernetic eye, similar to the one that Commander Wolffe has, so this occurred the first year of the Clone Wars.

Because of the severe scaring, the eye and the event that might've cost Wrecker his life--it brought the team closer together, and Hunter, and by extension Crosshair, showed solidarity.

Brothers first, Mission Second, Orders third, and be damned to the Regs.

Hunter showed this solidarity and new closeness, by getting his infamous tattoo, same side of the head and face as Wrecker's scarring. Just as Wrecker's scar is the entire half, so was Hunter's tattoo.

( Plus, it was a personal step. Hunter has always been torn when it comes to Regs and even Civilians and Officials. He looks Normal, and thus they consider him the Normal one up until he Isn't--then its far worse treatment than just being rejected from the start. Hunter had learned a hard lesson about the pettiness of people, any people: They want your appearance to inform your personality, and they don't like being wrong, even though they are simply reacting to their own misinformed, petty and shallow judgement.)

( So, Hunter will be damned certain to give a "good" first impression, from now on. May the tattoos make the man. If someone is only going to judge things skin-deep, then they weren't worth associating with and its best to get it out of the way on the first impression )

( And who knows, Hunter would think, It would be worth proving someone wrong. )

Crosshair followed close behind. But Crosshair has always been afflicted with SEVERE PRACTICALITY. A tattoo for solidarity is all well and good until you've colored half your face like a harvest day decoration.

He knows Hunter's reasons. They're good reasons for Hunter. They're just not Crosshair's reasons.

So Crosshair gets a reticle around his dominant eye. Of course the lines cross his eyelid--he was practical, not a coward; if every clone can do it, so would he--But if he needed to, he could always cover it with makeup. Tattoos tend to personal identifiers, and he didn't want to give the Seppies or any other adversary time to have a list of personal descriptors.

( "If they don't catch you at all, it doesn't matter what's on your face", said Hunter, "And if they did catch you, then it wouldn't matter in the end anyway."

"Spoken like someone stuffed with straw and painted to scare birds away," said Crosshair.

Hunter threw wadded old socks at him. )

Tech doesn't care for facial tattoos, and he still maintains the soft roundness that would otherwise be called Baby Fat in clones so no amount of tattoo would work…

Instead, he opted to tattoo every area on his body that has suffered a bone break, with "symbolic imagery".

A few ribs here, where the "symbolic image" of them appear to be broken by an invisible lightning bolt. A leg here, with a "disruption" that appears similarly to the spikes on a soundwave monitor (the leg had been broken in three places near the knee during training). One arm here, depicted as a kind of semi-puzzle game. (The arm had been broken from an incident with an automatic door. )

And of course, it wouldn't be Tech if he didn't add small descriptions of what each one meant, what caused it, and when along side each tattoo…. In the star wars equivalency of esperanto.

( "It simply would not do if our adversaries got a hold of me and knew were all my structural weaknesses were at," said Tech, "So I wrote my descriptions in a constructed language that was created several hundred years ago by--"

"You… refer to your broken bones as structural weaknesses," drawled Crosshair, "…Of course you do."

"If you're worried about the enemy, You don't have to write your descriptions, you can just… tell people what happened, in your own words," said Hunter, "Make a conversation out of it."

"Nonsense, it is medically efficient if my body was ever recovered by a friendly command," said Tech, "and I would not have to tell anyone, I wrote it all down as needed."

"… Let's not talk about one of us dying," said Hunter.

"Too soon," said Crosshair. )

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Haloo yellow helllloooooo

Is it alright if I ask for like Trafalgar Law x reader? It's up to you if you wanna make them male or female, I'm thinking of having a reader that can summon wings but with a price. Like the wings would literally rip out of their back, leaving a big scar and lots and lots of blood. It's not bad enough? The feathers are made of light steel but has sharp edges at the bottom. Making it more than painful... And I think it should be a curse so that you wouldn't have to think of a devil fruit? It's alr if you did, tho.

omg, this almost made my cry while I was writing it! As a note, Noroi means curse. I will also likely be creating the devil fruit I used in this as well as one based on her transformation (it sounds interesting to me). I made it more than just the wings, but there's reasoning for that... I'm gonna go cry now! (not really, but holy shit, this fic!)

Warnings: graphic depictions of injuries, blood, curses, angst, pain, hurt/comfort, GN!Reader

Word Count: 1675

     The first time he saw the scars, he was horrified. Two long, vertical lines down your back about where your shoulder blades were. Starting just above the shoulder blade and running down to your mid back. He wasn’t sure if the scars looked more like tears or cuts. You hadn’t answered him when he asked what they were from, you’d refused to tell him. After asking again and again, he began to assume that something horrific had happened to you, something you were afraid to talk about. Had you been captured and tortured? Had someone betrayed you? Had it been an accident of some sort? Did you even remember what had happened? Maybe it was so traumatic that your mind blocked it out, perhaps it was painful to remember. So he stopped asking, if it was traumatic, he didn’t want to risk an outburst or break down. 

     You remembered how it had happened, how you’d gotten this curse. A devil fruit, yet it wasn’t you who’d eaten it. The Noroi Noroi no mi. It allowed the user to bestow curses upon other people. Some minor, some… some like yours. Large metal wings, sharp blades that cut through your skin as they tore out of your back. Light weight yet strong, capable of propelling you hundreds, sometimes even thousands of feet in the air. The pain was like nothing you’d ever imagined before, the first time they’d sheared through your skin, you’d screamed in pain, falling to the ground. You’d lost consciousness, the pain too much for your mind to handle. You didn’t pass out from the pain anymore, but it still made you cry out in pain, it was still a blinding pain that left you shaking. With your wings fresh from your back, you looked like an angel of war, metal wings glinting in the sunlight as fresh blood dripped from the sharp tips of the ‘feathers’. Yet the curse didn’t stop there. With each activation, the curse progressed, as if to make your life an endless hell, maybe to ensure that you’d never just learn to deal with the pain. Metal that ripped out of your hair line, forming a beautiful silver circlet, yet dripped with blood, the red liquid running is streams down your face. A burning in your eyes, like acid, as they changed into an unnaturally bright blue, the whites turning a a lustrous ivory, like pearls. With each activation of your curse, you looked more and more like some sort of twisted, bloodstained angel of war. All you could think was it was only a matter of time before armor sprouted from your limbs, a cuirass of steel protecting your chest, until your body dripped with blood and you became a ‘true angel’ of blood and steel. Your worse nightmare. Horrific pain as the metal ripped through every part of your body, dripping with blood as people looked on in fear. What would the others think? What would Law think? Would they push you away? Or perhaps they might comfort you? Would they look at you in horror? Or would their looks turn to ones of sympathy? You couldn’t take that chance. You couldn’t risk losing those you loved most. 

     Now, however, you risked losing them anyway. Should you transform, you risked losing them as they pushed you away; but if you did nothing, you risked them dying and losing them for good, risked knowing that they died when you could have saved them. So with a pained cry, you allowed the metal to tear from your skin. Once more dripping with blood, you faced your enemies. Everyone’s eyes were on you, the scream, the transformation, drawing their attention. Pauldrons of metal covered your shoulders, your blood covered circlet dripping with blood, your wings glinting in the sunlight as the red liquid dripped from the tips to the ground. Unnaturally blue eyes glared at your enemies as the hilt of a blade formed at your waist. You could feel the metal springing from your skin in the same horrific fashion, yet this time, you didn’t care. This time, you took hold of the metal willingly, this time, you pulled it from your body as if the pain didn’t matter, as if what you had become was trivial. It left a gash in your hip, the hilt burned like red hot fire against your hand as you charged forward. An angel of war? No. A demon of blood, steel, and fury as you cut your enemies down. A metal blade, sharper than any man made sword, sharper than even Law’s scalpels or feather blades. Piercing and slashing through your enemies and suddenly, you were covered in blood once more, yet this blood was not your own. Chest heaving, you dropped the blade at your feet. All around you, bodies littered the ground, blood watering the earth and pooling at your feet. You closed your eyes as tears burned behind your eye lids. It was time to face the others, time to face their horrified stares and terrified faces. But you refused to do so as you were now, refused to face them as the demonic creature you’d become. The wings retracted, the blade on the ground seemed to gain a mind of its own as it turned into liquid metal and shot into your calf. Pauldrons pulled back into your skin, and circlet slipped back into your head. But more had formed during your battle. Blood stained vambraces folded back into your forearms and a gold trimmed tasset slipped into your waist. Your clothes had been shredded by the metal that had sprouted from your body and was covered in your blood. The wounds caused by the curse quickly healed, leaving more scarring. It was a bitter sweet ability of the curse. It allowed you to heal quickly, making wounding you difficult. Because if you bled out, the curse could no longer take hold of you. The palm of your hand now had burn scars and your eyes still felt like they were covered in acid. Still, still you turned to them. Their looks were ones of horror and sympathy, they cradled their own wounds, yet they stood up, hurrying over to you. Bepo was the first to reach you, pulling you close and wrapping his large arms around you, sobbing as he tried to say something that was lost in the sounds of his crying. Penguin and Shachi were soon wrapped around you as well, muttering apologies and words of comfort. Soon the entire crew minus Law was holding you in a group hug, words of comfort surrounding you. Tears ran down your cheeks, yet these were not tears of pain. They were tears of relief. They didn’t hate you, they weren’t turning you away. They were pulling you closer. You lost track of how long they held you before you all returned to the Polar Tang, the crew offering to cook, help you clean up, let you rest, whatever you wanted. It was shortly after you’d entered your room, before you got a chance to shower that Law appeared in your room. The two of you simply stood there in silence. He was the one you were most afraid of right now. Would he leave you? Would he hate you? Would he be angry at you for keeping it a secret? Law walked over to you in silence, gently taking your arm and examining the new scars.

     “Now I know why you didn’t tell me… are you… are you still in pain?” he asked, eyes looking at you in concern. 

     “They’re… tender. They will be for a few days.” you admitted, looking away from him. Law gently wiped some blood away from your arm with his sleeve before pressing a soft kiss to the new scar that ran up your entire forearm.

     “From now on, I’ll take care of you, You’ll never have to use this ability again. I… I won’t let you. As your captain, I forbid you from using it again, no matter the situation.” he said sternly, yet you could tell that his words were simply out of worry for your well-being. You could only nod as you stared into his eyes. While they were filled with sympathy and concern, they also shone with love. He loved you too much to let this happen to you again.

     “Let me help you.” he said softly, gently pulling the remains of your blood soaked clothes from your body before gently carrying you to the shower. He was more gentle with you than ever as he carefully washed the blood from your body, almost as if he was afraid his touch would tear your skin open again. Once you were clean and in fresh clothes, he ‘shambles’ed you to the dining room, the crew already having made your favorite. While they wanted to be there for you, they’d all agreed to leave you be, not wanting to make you feel like a freak by standing there and staring at you or asking you questions. They had questions, they wanted to care for you, but they knew it would be best if they treated you like normal, as if nothing had happened. To treat you like always so that you knew that nothing had changed, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. In a way, it was true, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. You were still you, still the same person who cared about them, still the same person they’d always cared for, who was part of their little family. They’d let you rest more often, they’d treat you with more care, they’d protect you more, but you were still you, even with your curse. Law would be the same. He’d treat you like he always had, yet at the same time, he’d be more careful with you, be softer with you. But you knew it was only because they didn’t want you to have to suffer that pain again. Only because they loved you. They still loved you. 

[aftgficrec]

Anonymous asked: Hiiii is there any andreil fics with a medieval or post apocalyptic setting? thank you in advance

We are pretty loose with what constitutes medieval and tend to include fics with swords and steeds unless the author specifies a different time period. For more stories and pairings try these ao3 aftg tag searches: royalty here, kings and kingdoms here, fairy tales here, medieval here, and fantasy here. 

Andreil apocalypse aus will follow in another post. -A

previous recs:

‘An Assassin's Guide to Romance’ here 

‘eclipse’ here

‘The boy is a pipe dream’ here

‘Vanilla Twilight’ here

‘All the King's Men’ here

‘On the Edge of a Knife’ here

‘One page prompts’ ch 6, ‘Admirers And Visitors,’ ‘Knights of the Fox Table,’ ‘Silver, Secrets and Steel’ series, and ‘this isn't home (but it's close enough)’ in our foxes with swords! ask

you may also like:

‘That One Time Neil Ended Up In a Fairy Tale’ series here (updated)

‘Winter Woes’ series here

‘If I Don't Keep Up My Light’ here

our tags for medieval, royalty, historical, dragons, fantasy, and fairy tales

A Cruel Twist of Fate by nvrhrdofhm [Rated M, 10941 Words, Complete, AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2024]

Twenty years ago, Aaron’s mother had become pregnant, the father was unknown, even to herself. Fearing for what the birth would mean for her future, she sought counsel from a soothsayer. She stole away in the middle of the night and received the curse; “Started as one but separated soon. A reflection of the other, always to be doomed. Stolen too early, returned far too late. The two’s lives will be a cruel twist of fate.” A fantasy AU focused on the Minyard twins. It's a short but fun time. Yes, I know that sounds like an innuendo, let's just ignore that.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

NB: fic art by @flightyfoxart here

Reign & Fall by maydaykevin [Rated M, 32847 Words, Complete, 2017]

“It is quite simple what I am asking of you, Neil.” Stuart’s voice, however pleasant, was laced with an underlying venom. “Retrieve what they have wrongfully taken.” Neil is given a quest. Chaos ensues.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: canonical character death, tw: blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: choking, tw: noncon kiss

NB: the major character death tag refers to a series villain

Land of Reverence series by shadowdreams [Rated G/T, Collection, 2 complete works, Updated 2022]

Part 1: Would You Rescue Me [G, 37691 Words] Previously recced here His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Nathaniel of Baltimore has been tasked with rescuing the shy Princess of Palmetto from a dragon as part of a marriage ritual as old as time. The only problem? That’s definitely not a princess waiting for him in a dingy cave in the mountainside.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Part 2: I'll be there anytime you call [T, 31264 Words] Previously recced here “You have to go back to Baltimore.” Andrew looked up at his brother, halting his move to reach for one of the water pitchers. Watching Aaron nervously shift in place, Andrew took in the uncomfortable silence settling over the large room they all had gathered in. This couldn’t be good.  Or, what happens after Andrew and Neil finally make it to Palmetto after the Royal Liberation.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse

All for the Royal Court by AL_fiction [Rated T, 75902 Words, Complete, 2023]

Previously recced here 

“Abram has recently fled to Palmetto, the capital city of the vast country of Foxcourt after the loss of his mother in Troy. Earning himself the title Library Thief and a wanted poster with his name on it in his first few days, Abram survives by pickpocketing and hiding, skills he's gotten good at on the run. This all changes when he gets himself hired by Day, Head Assistant to King Wymack himself

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: graphic injuries, tw: blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: canonical character death

Queens by Fire_Bear [Rated M, 10110 Words, Incomplete, Updated 2020]

The courts of the kingdoms hold great power, from the rooks to the bishops, the knights to the kings. But none are as powerful as the queens. Anyone with the magical power levels of a queen is highly sought after in the courts. They are coveted, revered, feared, hated, loved - and trapped. There was once a kingdom that held four queens, some hidden, others known.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

Of Dark Wizards & Knights by justdk [Rated T, 3400 Words, Complete, Andreil Week 2019]

Previously recced here

Neil just wants to live in his cave and do magic and raise his cute little fox kits but nooooo. In which Neil meets the legendary Sam of Wilds, Tiggy, and Gary... and a short knight with blonde hair and great arms

tw: scars

Of Solstice Sweets & Kisses justdk [Rated T, 1940 Words, Complete, 2020]

A companion piece to Of Dark Wizards & Knights, above

When Andrew had asked for leave to visit Neil, he had not expected them to spend the entire day roaming the Dark Woods collecting branches, greenery, holly, nuts, and rocks. He had assumed they would spend the day and night tucked away in Neil’s cave, eating, cuddling in the surprisingly comfortable nest of furs, and playing with Sir and King, Neil’s domesticated foxes. Neil had assured him that all of that was still on the menu but that first he needed to prepare for his annual Solstice rituals. [or magical Midwinter fluff]

pre relationship andreil

Doubt Truth To Be a Liar by sunrise_and_death [Rated T, 793 Words, Complete, Andreil Week 2018, Locked]

It was the ghost that tipped Neil off. Or, a snapshot of All for the Game meets Hamlet.

tw: implied/referenced murder

becomings by jemwrites [Rated M, 3310 Words, Complete, 2020]

A Witcher, a Mage, a Fox Cub, a Warmonger: four individuals in a horrifying world, and how they came to be. (In other words: how Andrew became a monster, how neil became a sorcerer, how Kevin became a legacy and how Riko's bloodthirst will lead to chasing all three) No knowledge of The Witcher (tv show, game or book) required.

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: child abandonment, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced torture

Art

Aftg, Empire and palace dramas AU art by @anthemisarts: headcanons and character sketches | Lady Renee and Lady Allison | Kevin, the young emperor | Neil, a fugitive prince | Andrew and Neil first meeting preview | Andrew, knight of the fox kingdom detains a suspicious Neil

AFTG Royalty/Medieval AU art by @nicknizzard: Andrew swearing his oath to Neil | Aftg medieval AU part 2 | KevAaron in the medieval AU | more Medieval Andreil

[jubilantmedusa]

I drew another sketch for my Zukka H/C series but this was depicts injury so under the cut it goes.

The story is: Just Yours

Sokka’s rescue came too late. The damage had been done. The image was burned into his brain forever. Zuko sprawled out on the palace steps, covered in blood. He wasn’t even screaming when Sokka got there but there was still sound, the sound of boots and fists pummeling into him and Zuko’s flesh breaking beneath the blows. Sokka couldn’t remember, later, what he did. How he’d managed to break through the crowd and get Zuko out of there. He just remembered the shock in his chest when he saw Zuko’s body. Then suddenly he was running, Zuko dead weight over his shoulder, and the right side of Sokka’s face screaming and his knuckles were covered in blood. He probably would have run forever if his father hadn’t appeared, flickering into Sokka’s vision. Hakoda, putting his hands on Sokka’s bony shoulders and pushing him through the streets. The dust of the city. The heat of the sun on his neck. Sokka’s boots clanking on the cobblestones. The ragged gasps of Zuko’s breathing. Sokka couldn’t remember rout to the harbor, how long it took. He remembered every choked gasp that escaped Zuko’s ruined body. When the boarded the ship Hakoda ordered Sokka to take Zuko below.