#Sammy8D writes

[sammy8d257]

On a routine trip to the castle in the End, MT contemplates murder.

-( | )-

[Tumblr Ver.] || [Ao3 Ver.]

[AvM Mad King AU Masterpost]

alsdkjljdsg, it's been over a year since this oneshot got posted to Tumblr

And it's just now getting posted to Ao3

Good Lord why am I so bad at posting fics alskjdglsgs

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this new cover art!

[sammy8d257]

Saved Messages - AvA Sticktober 2024 Day 17

Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate: A Melted Marshmallows Side Story

Word Count: 2123

CW: Angst & Hurt No Comfort, Swearing, Parental Sickness (Purple's Mom), Character Death (Purple's Mom), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Summary:

You have 17 saved messages To listen to your messages, press 1 To send a message, press 2 To change your personal options, press 4 To disconnect, press * - [1]

[AvA STICKTOBER 2024 LIST]

[Ao3 ver.]

-

(LMAO- FINALLY POSTING THIS 2 WEEKS PAST THE END OF STICKTOBER, in my defense, I got busy and my attention was captivated by minecraft smp RP, RIP o7

I will preface this with a warning, this ficlet can get a little intense with the angst so take note of the CWs and take care of yourself! 💜)

=o=

You have 17 saved messages

To listen to your messages, press 1

To send a message, press 2

To change your personal options, press 4

To disconnect, press *

-

[1]

-

First Saved Message

Sent: March 2004

From: My Flower 🌸

"Hi baby! Hee-hee, I know you're just across the room but a certain someone is veeeeery excited about the new phones and wants to leave a very special message to test out the voicemail system."

[sounds of rustling]

"… okay now make sure to hold the phone like this- And speak clearly into here-"

"Hi papa! I have a super duper secret message to tell yah!"

[a pause before sounds of running feet across the floor]

"Wah-?! Purple my phon-"

 [a door slam]

"Mama hid the cookies on the top shelf!And I love you so much!! You're the best papa in the world!!"

[the sounds of shuffling and the door opening]

"There you are my little sprout. May I have my phone back please?"

[giggling]

"Thank you Purple. How about we go see if your papa gets your message. And yes Blue, I can still see you laughing even if you hide behind the door frame. So here's my message! I love you my dear."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Second Saved Message

Sent: March 2004

From: My Flower 🌸

"Hello my love, do you think you could do me a huge favor and pick Purple up from school today? The ladies at the boutique are running a lot later than expected and I'm afraid I'll be holed up here for another hour."

[a muffled greeting can be heard]

"Oh hello Jewel, it's always a pleasure to see you today! If you give me one moment, I'm just finishing up a message for my husband!"

[a muffled affirmation]

"Thank you darling, I'll be with you in one moment!

Ah, duty calls! I have to go but oh! Before I forget, remind me to have our discussion later tonight. You know I'm not as knowledgeable when it comes to the whole stick figure fighting scene and if you're so keen on Purple to learning, I'd like to get more details."

[the sound of a doorbell alert rings]

"Oh hello! Welcome!

… I have to go, I love you Blue, see you and our little sprout at home!"

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Third Saved Message

Sent: August 2011

From: Orchid

"..."

[a sigh]

"Listen, I know I'm probably one of the last people you want to talk to right now but whether you want to talk to me or our lawyers, we still need to discuss this."

"My lawyer stated that there are two routes we can take for this. Either we get fully divorced or we can do a legal separation. It is at the behest of my lawyer that we come to a decision soon and I'm inclined to agree."

"..." 

"If you don't want to talk to me, then fine. Get your lawyer to talk to mine. I just… I just don't want to drag this out any longer than it needs to be."

[another sigh]

[mumbled] "... shit I need to check on Purple again…"

"Goodbye Blue."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Fourth Saved Message

Sent: June 2013

From: Orchid

"... Hi Papa. It's been a bit. 

I uh, mama let me have her phone to play the tetris game and I clicked on the wrong thing, by accident! But it was the place with all the names and numbers and I found your name and it's been so long and I thought…

I turn 14 in a month. I think maybe, if you want, you could com-"

"Purple? Little sprout who are you talking to?"

"No one mama! I was-"

"May I have my phone back?"

"Yeah hold on let me just-"

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Fifth Saved Message

Sent: June 2013

From: Orchid

"Don't talk to Purple." 

"Do you hear me? Don't you ever talk to them again." 

"We don't need you."

"I'm giving Purple a phone for their birthday and when I do, I will text you their number."

"Block them."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Sixth Saved Message

Sent: July 2013

From: [BLOCKED NUMBER]

"Hi Papa! It's Purple. Mama gave me a phone for my birthday."

"I got your number from Mama's phone so now we can talk again! Ah, or you know, whenever you have time."

"..."

"Mama got mad at me for calling you last month. She's still upset about you and I-"

"..."

"I don't know how I feel. It's my fault. I should have been better. I know I messed up. I just…"

"Uh! Eh, I apologize. I shouldn't worry you with that stuff. I hope you're doing well! I tried texting you but the message said it didn't deliver? I'll have to ask Mama if I messed something up again."

"But I'll call you again soon! Or maybe text? Uh, we'll see!"

"Umm… bye!"

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Seventh Saved Message

Sent: May 2015

From: [BLOCKED NUMBER]

"Pap-uh… I mean, uh… Dad. Sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

[Three deep breaths]

"I'm sorry for calling you. I know you don't want me to. No one ever does but I don't know who else to call and I just-"

[another breath cut off by a short distressed whine]

"Mama she's- fuck, sorry I'm sorry. Mama is, we're, we're at the hospital. She collapsed and and and-"

"I'm scared. Dad, Papa, I'm scared. I don't-"

[A grunt followed by a hiss of pain]

[muffled] "Get a hold of yourself!"

[A deep breath]

"The nurse said to call someone in case Mama needs to stay overnight and I know you don't like me but- !"

[the sound of door opening]

[muffled] "Are you Ms. Orchid's child?"

"Yes, yes! Is she-?"

"Your mother is okay. The doctor is coming soon to look her over and she requested you to be present in the room for it."

"Okay okay, thank you, thank you. Let me just-"

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Eighth Saved Message

Sent: May 2015

From: Orchid

"Why did you call me?"

"No actually better question, how did you know I was in the hospital? I swear to Cursors Blue if you talked to Purple I am going to-"

[frustrated sigh]

"Look, it doesn't matter all right? I'm…"

"Well, it's nothing that concerns you anymore."

"If you really want to talk, call me in 5 hours. Purple will be in bed by then."

"Goodbye."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Ninth Saved Message

Sent: February 2017

From: Purple

"Hello sir."

"I apologize, I probably caught you at a bad time but before you close this message completely, please hear me out."

[a pause and a sharp intake]

"I need you to increase the amount of alimony you send per month. Not by a lot! I got a part time job recently so that should help a lot with the problem but I'm still concerned."

"..."

"Mama she… Orchid's treatments aren't working. Well they're not making things worse but she's not getting better either. We've been fine up until now with paying for medical stuff but there's a new treatment that I want her to try but it's a little more expensive. I just worry…"

"All I'm asking is at max an additional 5% of what you're already paying monthly. And I know how much that is because I do the taxes now."

"... Please. I just want her to be okay."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Tenth Saved Message

Sent: February 2017

From: The Man 🕶️

"Hey hey hey, Big Shot! Wasn't expecting a call from Mr. 'Killer Cobalt' himself on my day off. Sorry I missed yah the first time, you know how busy a man can get."

"But regardless! I listened to your message and I'll see what we can do about getting you that increase in pay. Gotta talk with the bigwigs. In the meantime, if you really are in need of more dough, your best bet is to find some additional gigs to fight at. I might be able to sign you up for a tournament if you want?"

"Eh, we'll hash out the details later, preferably tomorrow. You know what they say, 'All work and no play makes Granite a very dull boy'.

Heheh, alright catch you later Blue."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Eleventh Saved Message

Sent: March 2017

From: Purple

"Thank you."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Twelfth Saved Message

Sent: March 2018

From: Orchid

[a muffled steady beeping]

"..."

"You know, despite it being months, no years of this happening to me, I still can't believe this is it."

[a shaky chuckle]

"I was hoping for you to be in the middle of a match to call you just so I didn't have to have this conversation in person. But now that I'm here, I wish I could hear your voice again."

"I wish I could hear you say you love me again… It's pathetic…"

[a wet laugh]

"Heartbreak. That's what I was diagnosed with. Heartbreak that developed into an actual heart condition because of my animation origins. Can you fucking believe that? All of this because I came from a drama animation."

"I don't know why I never told you… That's a lie, I know why. My pride. My pride didn't let me. I didn't want to believe you leaving had any effect on me. I didn't want to believe anything was wrong. I wanted to believe without you, everything could just go back to normal."

[a sob bit back with a laugh]

"Instead, I messed everything up. We failed them. I failed them. I failed Purple. I kept it all hidden until it was too late. What parent has their child to look after them like this? They just turned 18 a few months ago. They're still so young. And now I'm never going to see them grow-"

[sobbing]

"It's not fair. To any of us. I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish you weren't such an asshole. I wish you didn't leave. I wish we never met. I wish I didn't still…"

"..."

"Goodbye Blue. I wish I didn't miss you."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Thirteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From: Purple

[sobbing]

"FUCK FUCK- BLUE- DAD- PAPA PLEASE"

"SHE'S DYING! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

I KNOW YOU HATE ME! I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE!

SHE'S DYING

IF YOU CARED ABOUT HER, IF YOU EVER CARED AT ALL, YOU'D BE HERE-

YOU CAN HELP HER

I CAN'T- SHE'S-

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

I DON'T WANT HER TO DIE

MAMA-

[sobbing and a thump]

Mama… 

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Fourteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From: Purple

"Fuck you. FUCK YOU"

"I hope you rot in hell. I hope there isn't a day where you don't regret your fucking actions and I hope you suffer for it."

"I hate you. I hate that you did this. I hate that you aren't here. I hate that I wasn't enough. I hate this. I hate you. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU-"

[sounds of sobbing, a frustrated scream and then loud crash]

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Fifteenth Saved Message 

Sent: April 2018

From: 

"Thank you for calling Obelisk Funeral Services, I'm calling to confirm that full payment for the funeral of Orchid Grove has been handled by one, Blue "Killer Cobalt" Stick Figure, instead of the previously listed Purple Grove Stick Figure. All parties will be informed once the transaction goes through. A list of details will be emailed to all acting parties. If you have any questions, please call the call back number at the end of this message.

Obelisk Funeral Services appreciates your time, thank you."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Sixteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From: The Man 🕶️

"Hey Big Man, I got your message."

"Yeah, I get it yah know. A death in the family is always rough. Don't worry about nothin'. Take as many days off as you need."

"Heh, Cursors know it's been a minute for you."

"Just keep me updated on a time frame and we'll be right as rain."

"Take it easy buddy."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

Seventeenth Saved Message

Sent: May 2018

From: Purple

"..."

"Thank you for paying for the funeral. I didn't see you there but…"

"I saw the flowers you put on her grave. They're lovely."

"..."

"I've made a decision. I'm leaving. The house and its belongings are yours to do as you want. Store it or sell it. It doesn't matter."

"I'm going to a place where you won't be able to find me. Do not try. I do not want to be found."

"..."

"If you care… just know I will be safe."

"Goodbye Blue."

[END OF MESSAGE]

-

End of Messages;

To listen to your messages, press 1

To send a message press 2

To change your personal options press 4

To disconnect press *

-

[1]

[sammy8d257]

A Thursday Afternoon - An AvA/M fic

Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate: A Melted Marshmallows Side Story But can also be read on its own

Word Count: 755

CW: Parental Arguing

Summary: A Thursday afternoon in the Grove household during the Blackfire Attacks.

(I wrote half of this before AvA 11 came out, then the episode premiered and I went insane and finished it in 3 hours)

[Ao3 Ver.]

=o=

[... -ank you for listening to 96.8 The Point, your one-stop station for everything radio… ] 

Your family's portable radio sits on your kitchen counter. It's light blue in color and its long silver antenna is pointed towards an open window leading to the backyard. 

[... From music to news to weather, we provide it all for your listening pleasure. I'm your host, Turquoise Grandeur, here to talk about the latest Interweb news… ] 

You blink slowly, your eyes slightly burning from how long you've been staring at its dials. The radio is on today. You usually don't mind because the music the station plays is fun to listen to while you do your homework. But today… 

[...Our top story is the recent attacks that have been happening to various websites across the world wide web…]

You stare down at the worksheet in front of you. It's an equations page that your teacher assigned to your class. 

Only half the page is completed and the rest you stare at, your pencil taps lightly on the corner of the page.

[... Most notably, the Yahoo! home page as well as various forums have been targeted, leaving widespread panic and destruction in the aftermath…]

You don't want to do this but you have to. You get to go somewhere fun when it's done.

"-really, Blue? Purple has been looking forward to this all week! We promised we'd take them!"

You sigh. Your parents are in the other room but you can just barely hear them from your seat at the table. The radio isn't loud enough today.

"Orchid you can't be serious. Look at what's going on right now! Do you honestly believe going to a popular and crowded place is what we should be doing? I know you listen to the news just as much as I do!"

"Oh please, I'm not ignorant!"

[... Witnesses have coined the phrase "Blackfire Attacks" for these attacks, citing the heavy presence of fire and black smoke in each case…]

You scratch a doodle of a bird into the bottom right page corner. You wonder if birds sound different at an amusement park.

"With the way you're acting you could have fooled me!"

"Excuse me?! How dare you! I am not going to just stand here and be name-called just because I want to make sure our child can still enjoy life!"

[... The attackers have still yet to be identified but eyewitness testimonies cite glimpses of 2 hollow head stick figures, one black and one bright red, on scene…]

You add a tree for the bird to perch on. You wonder how many fries they steal.

"They can enjoy life when the possibility of all of our lives aren't being threatened!"

"You're unbelievable!"

"I don't even know why you're so mad at me! If anything, I should be mad that you're restricting our training hours!"

[... The motives behind these attacks have not been identified but the safety council advises folks to avoid popular sites ports for the time being… ]

Moments later and your dad storms into the kitchen. He's muttering something you can't make out under his breath. Your mom trails in after him. Her face is furrowed in displeasure, her mouth a hard line. 

You stare at them.

They don't notice you. 

[... If you have any information regarding the Blackfire attacks, please report it to your local-]

Your dad grabs the radio, moves it to the open window sill and exits out the backyard door.

Your mom sighs, turns, and startles when she meets your gaze.

"Little Sprout! Have you been here the whole time?"

You nod and look down at your worksheet.

Your mom says a word you're not allowed to say yet and walks up behind you. 

She gently places her arms around you in a hug.

"I'm sorry Purple, I don't think we'll be able to go to that 'Cool Math Games' amusement park this weekend. It's just… not safe at the moment. But I promise we'll all go together when it's better, alright?"

You feel

mad, hollow, sad, upset, frustrated, 

disappointed.

Your finger traces the bird you drew. Your mom is still waiting for an answer.

"Okay."

She squeezes you again and then backs away further into the kitchen.

Outside a light blue radio is playing, its music barely covering up the sounds of your dad training.

Inside the stove top exhaust fans turn on, your mom starts humming a tune.

Here at the table, you stare down at your equations sheet.

It's only halfway complete.

You'll finish it tomorrow.

[sammy8d257]

Likes - AvA Sticktober 2024 Day 2

Part of the AvA/M Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series: A Melted Marshmallow Side Story

Written by Sammy8D257

Word Count: 700 CW: Little self-deprecating from Purple (Just like, Purple's view on things is a little wonky because of course it is, and it drives their course of action, so just be aware of that)

Summary: Purple likes things. They like things a lot. You could even call it one of their defining traits. They like hanging out with their friends, they like cooking with King. They like shiny things and they like flying.

Purple likes things. But there is something that they like the most.

[AvA STICKTOBER 2024 LIST]

[Ao3 Ver.]

=o=

Purple likes things. They like things a lot. You could even call it one of their defining traits. 

They like their friends. They like how fun it is to hang out with them. They like how passionate Red is, how adventurous Green is, how clever Yellow is, how savvy Blue is, and how huggable Orange is. They like their house and they like their desktop. They even like Mr. Becker a little bit too.

They like living with King. They like being his roommate and being able to share a space with him. They like his kitchen and they like filling the fridge with leftovers that they can eat later.

They like objects. They like powerful objects and they like things to show off with. But they also like small, weird objects. They like how King jokingly referred to it as "bird behavior" when a small pile of shiny stones and pretty trinkets started appearing by the door. He grumbled about it, calling it a tripping hazard but he hasn't removed it yet, so Purple thinks King likes it too. 

Liking things is easy for Purple. They've always been greedy. And who could blame them? There are just so many things to like in this world. But despite all that, there is one thing that Purple likes the most.

=o=

The bubbling of the pot in front of them almost masked the shuffle of footsteps on the wooden floor. Purple didn't need to turn around to know who had just entered the kitchen. So they kept stirring the spaghetti sauce as the sounds of King's arrival came to a quiet stop.

"Hey, I got your message and uh- Holy cursors, Purple did you make all this food?"

Purple nodded sharply, cutting a glance to the countertops full of various dishes and desserts. They turned their attention back to the sauce and lifted the spoon to their mouth to taste. It was good.

A sigh from behind and the scrap of the chair informed them that King had sat down at the table. With a hum, Purple turned the stove burner off and carefully placed the pot on a corkboard on the counter. Next to it were two plates of noodles that Purple quickly layered the marinara sauce onto with their spoon. 

Without a flourish, the plates of spaghetti were picked up and placed gently on the kitchen table, one in front of King and one on the opposite side where they would sit. King tracked their movements, tired eyes searching for things that Purple wasn't going to let him find. They sat down at their spot and picked up their fork, eyeing King until he mimicked their movements.

An air of unease surrounded the kitchen as Purple continued to stare at King and King shifted his gaze to the food on the table. Finally, the orange stick figure lifted his fork and Purple couldn't help but lean in closer. That is until King abruptly stopped and met their eyes.

"Purple, I'm-" King gripped his fork tighter. "I know I've been a little out of it these past few days and I, I know you've been having a bad week too. So I'm sorry I haven't really been here but if you need anything from me, you let me know alright?"

There was in fact something that Purple needed from King. 

"Taste the food." 

Purple looked at the stick figure expectantly and to his credit, King didn't react to their blunt command. Instead the fork relaxed in his grip and he swirled a bit of spaghetti into his mouth.

Immediately, his eyes widened and Purple preened. The tension from before almost disappeared completely.

"Do you like it?"

King swallowed and grinned at them. 

"Like it? I love it! Purple, this is amazing!"

=o=

Yes, Purple likes things. They like a lot of things. From friends to cooking to objects, they like them so much. But the thing that they like the most is nothing that can be held or seen. Because the thing they like the most is;

"You did such a good job on this Purple! Now come on, this food isn't going to eat itself!"

Something to be earned.

[sammy8d257]

In the Week that Follows - Chap. 2: Day 1 - Cleaning (part 3)

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 4740

Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them)

CW for this Chapter Part: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Self-Hatred, Minor Swearing, King's Anger Issues, Poor Mental Health, allusions to unhealthy eating habits

[AO3 vers. (Full Chapter)]

(BRO I SWEAR I DID NOT MEAN FOR IT TO TAKE THIS LONG TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER. God I'm just happy its finally out now. I can't believe Day 1 is almost 4x the size of Day 0. alkslgjsdkgdls [head in hands] I hope you guys enjoy this!)

= O = o =

It was a little past 2 pm by the time they both were done eating.

King finished last and took the initiative to add their bowls to the pile in the sink. He made a mental note to rinse off the dishes and throw them into the dishwasher later. Turning back towards the table, King watched Purple place the now empty container back into their pink tote. A satisfied smile was on their face and King could feel it mirrored on his own. 

"Sooo…" Purple glanced back at him as King spoke. "What now?"

"Now?" The younger stick said as they straightened and fully turned to face the other. "Now it's time to do the second part."

King tilted his head in confusion. "Which is?"

"I'm going to help you clean your house."

"Oh," The orange stick paused, the statement not fully registering. "Wait, you are?"

Purple nodded. "Of course. I can't just leave you to clean your entire house by yourself."

And at that, King just nodded. Really, he should have expected this to be Purple's response. With how dedicated they were to helping him, he should have assumed it would also extend towards his home as well. 

"Yeah, okay that's," King stole a glance at the full sink at his back. "That would be nice. Thank you."

A smile so bright, King could have sworn the entire room got lighter, lit Purple's face at his words. After a moment, the younger stick figure coughed into their fist, their expression returning to something more neutral, but King could see the corners of their mouth were turned upwards.

"Right, ahem- So, I was thinking we could start by clearing out the easy stuff first," Purple made a hand wave gesture in the air. "You know, like all those books and stuff on the ground? We should organize those first before we clean anything else."

King nodded slowly as Purple explained their thoughts. Overall, it was a solid plan and a pretty easy one at that. Although the effects of the painkillers have since kicked in, King was still pretty tired and sore from the previous day. And Purple was right. The main room of the house was a mess of failed experiments, boxes, papers, and books. It would need to be cleared out first before any additional cleaning could take place. And really, it wouldn't take that much physical effort to organize through what could be kept and what could be discarded. At most, it would take a bit to gather everything.

With a final nod, King loosely crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "That sounds like a great idea."

Again, a grin broke out on Purple's face and they patted their pink tote once before taking a step towards King.

"Then let's get started."

Armed with a plan, clearing the main room goes incredibly well with various jobs being split between them. While King gathered all the discarded staff prototypes and welding tools, Purple went around the room collecting any easily picked up items. These ranged from small boxes to books to stacks of paper. Luckily for the two of them, objects like the daggers and the welding equipment that were strewn about the floor, were previously stowed away during the time Purple spent under King. The blanket that originally housed the pile of medical supplies was cleared away (King's bed becoming its temporary holding spot) and the piles of metal and books took its place. 

From there, the pair set about organizing through their respective piles. The staffs were sorted into reusable scrap metal, sellable scrap metal, and trash. Although Purple had no knowledge of experience in the field, King occasionally asked their opinion on the viability of some metals. 

"What do you think about this one?"

"Oh! Um, it's a very nice blue color! If you can't reuse it for anything, maybe you can get more for it because it's pretty?"

"Hmm… Probably not, unfortunately. It's painted aluminum. It might not sell as well but it should still be worth something."

Likewise, from their seat on the floor, Purple sorted through the stacks of books King had collected throughout the year. Originally, Purple had planned to just gather all the books and then place them on the bookshelf for future King to sort through, but upon picking up a book with a very clear library sticker along its spine, a separate pile was quickly formed.

King to his credit, looked incredibly embarrassed as Purple held a library copy of Welding for Dummies in the air.

"In my defense, I forgot I went there."

"Uh huh, and how long have you had these for?"

"Uh-"

"King."

"Only a couple of months-"

"King-"

"-to maybe a year?"

"King! That's a really long time!"

"I know! I know! I mean, hopefully if the book is still fine, we can return it and only have to pay the late fees and not the replacement costs!"

"Hmmm… let's just see how many there are."

By the time both of their original piles were gone and sorted, a couple of hours had passed. The afternoon sun still shone through the window casting the room in a warm glow.

King's pile of sellable scrap was not as large in comparison to his other piles of trash and parts that could be reused in future projects. Those piles contained bits of combined metal that King created in his attempts at making the perfect staff, so it made sense why the scrap yards probably wouldn't buy it from them. Though, despite the sellable pile being smaller, King reassured both Purple and himself that it would be enough to sell for a decent sum of money.

On the other side, Purple ended up with a stack of about 9 returnable and two damaged library books (turns out oil and burn marks are hard to get out of paper). Next to it was another stack of books that King owned and two boxes that Purple used to hold all the research paper found in the room. It was decided that the library books needed to be returned regardless of their physical status and to get their fees paid.

The two of them sat back and took a moment to admire their work. 

"Huh, well that wasn't too bad," King remarked, stretching out his back to release some tension. "And it only took us until… 6:30?!"

King's mouth hung open in shock. True to his words, the clock's keys pointed a little past the half hour mark.

"Huh… I guess so," Purple squinted up at the clock before turning towards King. "I'd say it's about dinner time, right?"

The older stick figure blinked, taking a moment to register the other's question before nodding. Despite having eaten hours ago, all the manual labor had worked up an appetite in him. 

Purple tapped their chin. "We already finished all the food I brought. So how about you wash up and I can get started on something to eat?"

A noise of protest sounded from King but was almost immediately shushed as Purple stood up. They had a sheepish look on their face.

"Don't worry about it. I like cooking! Plus uh…" Their eyes landed on King's hands and grimaced. "You've been touching metal for the past few hours. I don't think you should be handling food right now."

An embarrassed blush crept up his cheeks. Lightly, King wiped his hands along the bandages on his stomach, only to wince when it left a coppery brown stain. 

"Ah."

"Yeah…"

"I should probably go clean myself up."

"It would be for the best."

Purple shot him a small smile as King hissed out a breath and stood up. Turning on his heels, King made his way towards the hallway bathroom as Purple headed towards the kitchen. Once again back in the bathroom, the formerly royal stick took a moment to reassess his bandages. Aside from metallic markings along his midsection, the rest of the wraps looked fine. He figured he probably didn't need to change them yet and instead opted to use a slightly damp paper towel to clean up the residue.

He had just finished his clean up when a call caught his attention.

"Hey uh, King? I think there's a problem."

King frowned. He stepped out of the bathroom door to find Purple poking their head out from the living room archway. They looked nervous but also slightly annoyed.

"What's wrong?" King asked. Purple stared at him, eyes narrowed, as he walked down the hall. 

"You don't have any food here," They replied. "Or rather, the only food you have are boxes of instant macaroni and cheese, and ramen packets."

King raised an eyebrow at the younger stick figure's words. "Do you… not like mac and cheese?"

Purple huffed, the frustration growing on their face. "I do, but why are these the only sources of food in your house? You have a half quarter of milk in your fridge but you don't even have any cereal to go with it!"

King shrugged. "I'm not much of a cook." 

And Purple sputtered as he sidestepped them to enter the main room.

In all honesty, King didn't really know why Purple was getting so worked up over this. Sure it wasn't ideal, but food was food. The easier it was to make, the easier it was for King to dedicate more time towards his goals. Though that was in the past, right now he was more focused on just getting something to eat.

From behind, Purple caught up with his walk towards the kitchen and fell in step. "Has that all you've been eating?" They asked quietly. 

King shrugged again, taking a moment to glance back at the other. Their mouth was a hard line. "I also get takeout a lot."

Purple's face pulled into a scowl. 

"What was the last thing you ate?"

King blinked. "Aside from that thing you brought? Um… "

He squinted at the pile of dishes in the sink, trying to remember if the last thing he consumed was cooked or bought. "You know, I don't remember but it was probably ramen."

A hiss of air escaped Purple's mouth as they mumbled something under their breath. After a moment they sighed. "Let's just… order something."

"Alright," King said as he made his way to the kitchen counter.

From one of the drawers, King pulled out various takeout menus. There were menus for pizza, Italian, Mexican, American, and Chinese cuisine, all of which looked worn from use and sporting little golden stars next to specific menu items. He handed them to Purple for them to look over.

"Pick something, I don't really care what you want," he explained, pulling out his phone. "Just let me know what you want and I can order."

The kitchen was quiet after that as Purple shifted over the pamphlets. After a moment, they silently handed the menu for a local Chinese restaurant over to King and told him what they wanted.

One phone call later and an order of vegetable lo mein, sweet and sour chicken, and a side of white rice was set to arrive in 30 minutes. 

With that taken care of, King turned back towards Purple. Said stick figure was staring at his fridge with an unreadable look on their face. The orange stick chewed at the inside of his cheek. Was having an understocked fridge that bad? Sure it wasn't ideal but it never really bothered him. He didn't have time to go to the store that often and he was doing fine eating what he had on hand. Caring about food gets a lot harder when it's only yourself you're caring about.

Still, the stare that Purple gave made him uneasy.

"So… um," King said, breaking the awkward silence. "Let's say that I did have ingredients. What would you have made?"

Purple blinked in surprise. They brought a hand up to their chin and hummed.

"It depends on the type of ingredients you had on hand," King watched as they glanced around the kitchen. "Probably would have made something easy on the stomach. Maybe a soup?"

"Oh! Like that porridge thing you brought for lunch?" King asked. A small smile formed on Purple's face. 

"Lugaw, it's called lugaw. It's a rice porridge dish," They said softly. "My mom used to make it for me whenever I got sick."

"Aw, that's actually really sweet-" And not for the first time today, King felt like ice water was dumped down his back. 

Mom.

He jolted from his spot against the counter. "You're not a desktopper?"

Purple flinched, on guard from the sudden tone change. "What?"

"You're not a desktopper?!" A roaring panic rose in King. "You have a parent?"

"I mean-"

"You were born?!"

Whatever Purple said in reply drowned in the sea of King's racing thoughts. If Purple wasn't a created stick from someone's desktop or from some other media, then that meant they were born. And that meant they had a parent or guardian.

That meant he almost killed someone's kid.

"KING!"

Purple had his arms in a tight grip. They were trying to coax them down from their place at the sides of King's head. Huh, when did they get there…

Just like before, they were gentle in their actions, voice soft and calming even if he couldn't make out what they were saying.

Eventually, panic subsided and all that was left was a hollow numbness in his chest. Purple had settled themself next to him.

"King… are you-" 

[DING DONG]

Two pairs of eyes shot up at the sound of the doorbell.

King startled, moving to push himself off of the counter but Purple shook their head.

"The door, the food-" King rasped. Purple only shook their head harder and pushed him towards a kitchen chair. 

"Sit," They commanded. "I got it. Where's your wallet?"

King gestured towards the main room. "At my desk. Top left drawer."

The younger nodded. "Okay. Stay here. Focus on your breathing. I'll be right back." 

And with that, they turned and hurried out of the kitchen. 

Slumping into his seat, he could hear the faint sounds of Purple talking to the delivery guy. King groaned and buried his head into his hands. His mind was a mess of guilt and embarrassment. Guilt over the thought of nearly inflicting the same lonely torment he endured on to an innocent mother, and embarrassment because what the Flash was wrong with him?

Having the occasional breakdown every couple of weeks (or days) was fine but multiple times in one day? That was absurd. 

Purple probably thinks I'm a nutcase.

He felt pathetic. But before he could spiral further, Purple strode in with a brown paper bag in hand. King lifted his head to watch as they gently placed it on top of the table. They shot him a glance with a question clearly forming on their lips but King paid them no mind. The smell of noodles and chicken was already distracting him from his previous thoughts.

"I used one of your 20s. The amount was $18.48. The change was $1.52," Purple quietly said and placed King's wallet within his reach. "You can check to see it's all there." 

He glanced down at it, taking a moment to gauge Purple's own stare, before picking it up and tossing it onto the counter. 

"Thanks," He muttered before turning back to open the bag. The other end of the table was silent as he pulled out the cartons of food and chopsticks. King could feel Purple's eyes on him but he ignored them, instead focusing on arranging the food out on the table. After a moment, he heard Purple sigh and move towards the dish cabinet. 

They arrived with two plates, two forks, and a spoon as King finished opening all the takeout containers. They stuck the forks into the lo mein and sweet and sour chicken, and the spoon into the rice. With that they handed King one of the plates and settled into their seat across the table. 

It was quiet as the two sticks added food to their plates and it stayed quiet as they began to eat. 

King chewed on his chicken as he eyed Purple. The younger stick wasn't looking at him but he could tell that they had something on their mind. He cringed. No doubt Purple was going to ask him about his whole "freakout" over learning they had a parent. He gnawed on his chopstick. He hoped Purple didn't ask him too many questions. Frankly, even he didn't know why he reacted so viscerally and he did not want to explore those feelings at this moment. 

From across the table, Purple took in a breath and King mentally prepared himself for the confrontation.

"Do you know of any places that buy scrap metal?" 

He blinked. That certainly wasn't what he expected Purple to say. Though, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved that the topic of conversation was about the future and not the past. If Purple didn't want to bring up what happened in the last half hour then King was more than happy to sweep it under the rug.

King stuck his chopsticks into his noodles, "There's a few places we can head too. Copper and Steel is the closest one but Mety's has better prices." 

Purple nodded. "Which one is closer to the library?"

"None of them are close per say, but C&S is on the same side of town at least," King chewed thoughtfully. "Why? Are you planning on checking some books out?"

"Well no," the younger stick answered. "I just thought that since we'd already be out, we could also get the rest of the errands done at the same time."

King paused, mulling over what Purple suggested. "Hmm… You know, that's not a bad idea. Nice thinking Purple!"

They beamed at him. "Thank you! So it's settled. We'll go to the metal place, the grocery store, and the library."

King nodded along. "Metal, grocery, library… That sounds good- Wait grocery?"

The orange stick looked over to Purple in confusion, second-guessing whether or not he heard them right. Purple, to their credit, held his gaze and blinked almost innocently at him. 

"Well you did say we could go run some errands while out," Purple said nonchalantly. "Wouldn't it also make sense to get some groceries?"

King slowly blinked at Purple, taking in that little bit of sleight of hand. A disbelieving smirk formed on his face.

"You sly little stick," King shook their head and chuckled. "Alright, I get it. I need more food in the house. We'll go get some tomorrow."

The grin sent his way could only be described as self-satisfied as the purple stick hummed and took another bite of noodles. King couldn't help the snort of laughter at the younger's action as he shook his head again and continued to eat.

With plans for the next day sorted, the two started chatting about how to continue cleaning. It was decided that King would work on finding some sort of means of transportation to help carry the metal and books for tomorrow. Once that was done, he'd start sweeping the floors. Purple in the meantime, would focus on putting the remaining books onto King's shelf. After that, they would organize the rest of the papers and miscellaneous boxes on the floor for King to look through in the future.

Over food and conversation, the outburst from before slowly slipped from their minds and neither of them were too sad to see it go.

= O = o =

Nearly half an hour later and their Chinese takeout dinner was done. Just like before, King grabbed the used dishes and placed them into the sink while Purple gathered the leftovers and placed them in the fridge. With their meal complete, they made their way to the main room where King rummaged through his storage closet in search of bags big enough to hold pieces of metal. Purple busied themself with reorganizing medical supplies left out on King's bed. 

By the time King had found a couple of sturdy yard bags, Purple had deposited the various items into one of the empty boxes from the floor. As he approached them, they carefully scooted the newly christened medical box to the head of the bed by the shelf. From there the pair started going about their assigned tasks to tidy up the main room. They worked in a comfortable silence with only the occasional comment or question interrupting their work flow. 

This is nice, King thought to himself. How long had it been since he had another person in his space like this? Sure, Purple was there to help with the Minecraft plan but that felt different. He paused his sweeping to watch them work. 

They were short, a whole head shorter than King and that left them on their tip-toes as they slotted some books back on the top shelf. Despite the inconvenience, Purple had a look of determination on their face. It reminded him so much of the antics Gold would get up to…

A feeling akin to fondness bubbled in King's chest and he shook his head to clear it. He turned back to his broom and he continued sweeping. 

It was nice to have someone around again.

It wasn't until the sound of an alarm broke the quiet within the house, causing King to jump and Purple to scramble for their blaring phone. With a quick tap on the screen, the room fell back into silence.

King shook his head, a hand on his chest. "What was that?"

Purple, with their phone still in hand, blushed and rubbed at the back of their neck.

"It's my bus alarm," They said sheepishly. "It takes about 10 minutes to get to the nearest bus stop so I set it so I'd have enough time to get there." 

"You're leaving?" 

They nodded. "It's already almost 9. I'd like to get some sleep for tomorrow."

"For tomorrow? Yeah! That's right! You're coming back tomorrow?" Of course they'd be coming back. A few hours ago they made plans to meet back up the next day but that still didn't stop the hopeful lift in King's voice. If Purple noticed it, they didn't say anything.

"Mmhmm. I promised to help you, didn't I?"

"I mean, yes, but-" He stumbled over his words, a previous concern pushed itself to the front of his mind. "But, you also have to help yourself. Or, at least let me help you too."

The younger stick had started gathering their belongings into their pink tote but stilled at his words. Their eyes darted to meet his before darting down towards the medical box. For a moment, King thought they were going to protest like they did before but after a moment, they sighed and reached to pull out a roll of bandages and a bruise cream tube. They tossed those items into their bag.

"Okay."

"Cool."

"So… I'll see you tomorrow then?" A goodbye posed as a question, a small awkward smile formed on King's face. Purple readjusted the strap on their bag and hauled it over their shoulder. 

They locked eyes with King and with a look that could almost be considered fond, replied, "I'll see you in the morning."

Then without a word, Purple turned and left the house, the door closing with a soft click.

A second passed, then two, then three. There King stood, staring at the closed door. Slowly, he turned around to face the rest of the room. It was silent again, but for once, it didn't feel as oppressive as it once did. 

Maybe it was because for the first time in a while, the house was clean. Well not clean but it was as organized and tidy as it could be given the circumstances. Maybe it was because of the food King ate. He hadn't eaten that fully in a while. Or maybe it was because he wasn't alone anymore. Sure his house was empty at the moment, but Purple had promised to come back tomorrow morning. Even if they were… weird (and they were, a voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably assess those comments and actions he had filed away) but their help equaled companionship and who was King to complain?

Whatever the reason was at the moment, it was lost on King as he shuffled quietly towards his bed. The events of the day had well and truly begun to hit him. He was tired but it was a good tired. A satisfied tired. One that reminded him of trips spent camping from years ago.

Dimly, he knew he probably should clean himself up before going to sleep. He needed to brush his teeth, wipe the dust off himself, recheck his bandages…

But as soon as he locked eyes with the bed, he knew what his main priority was.

He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

= o =

Purple pressed their forehead against the bus's window, its coolness doing wonders for easing the tension in their head. 

They were… content, for lack of a better word. King had a smile on his face when they left so they must have done a good job.

The closest bus stop to their apartment was on West 9th street. Glancing at the screen near the front of the bus, told them they had just turned on off of 5th Avenue. Purple closed their eyes. They had 10 more stops left before they had to get off. 

Today went well. Not as smoothly as they had hoped it would but they were always ready to roll with the punches. Maybe they were just rusty when it came to this type of helping.

9 stops left. 

A series of giggles and poorly hushed laughter brought Purple out of their thoughts. Cracking an eye open, they watched as a group of nicely dressed stick figures passed by their seat and took some of their own seats near the back. They looked to be around Purple's age and were excitedly discussing a new club that opened up. Purple closed their eyes again, letting their chatter fade into the background. 

8 stops left.

King had been right. And that meant Purple had been wrong. But that was fine. Purple was wrong about a lot of things. That just meant they had to try harder to learn what was right for King.

7 stops left.

Today they learned that what they say can come off as condescending, even if that wasn't the original intention. King is more than capable of helping himself. Purple is there to only aid in his recovery and to make things easier. They owed it to him.

6 stops left.

Don't assume to know what's best, even if it worked well with their mother. King is not the same. Similar but not the same. Purple couldn't forget that. 

5 stops left.

One of the stick figures for the group had pulled the cord, signaling for the bus to stop. Purple blinked and watched as they filed excitedly off the bus. One stick, lilac in color, met Purple's gaze. They smiled at them, giving a curious but confused stare back before a friend pulled them towards the nightlife. For one brief moment, Purple felt a pang of jealousy.

4 stops left.

They shook that thought out of their head and refocused their eyes out onto the familiar lamp post lit streets. Going out to "party" was not important. 

3 stops left.

Two old men climbed onto the bus and sat in the front, quietly chatting about their day. Trying to get friends was not important (at least not yet, a smiling green face flashed across the back of their mind).

2 stops left.

A mother cradling a sleeping toddler walked off the bus. The child snuggled closer as the summer air hit their skin. Helping King was important. And by proxy, so was Purple. The bandages felt tight on their skin.

1 stop left.

The tired stick lifted their head from the window. They had a job to do. Nothing else should matter. They just needed to keep their priorities straight.

Purple pulled the cord and the bus slowed to a stop.

[sammy8d257]

Anyway here's some dialogue I wrote out based on these brainworms

Feat. Purple, King, and the horrors of Job Searching

=O=o=

"Hey King, I thinking about getting a job."

"Getting tired of illegally trading Minecraft items?"

"Hey! I'm working on my permits! You know how long those take."

"Pfft- relax, so a job? Anything in mind?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about anything yet. I just want to help take the edge off of things, you know? Maybe start making a savings account. Residual money from Becker is nice for living, but I don't want to just live."

"Hmm..."

"Plus I want to have some extra spending money for things."

"Yeah I understand, but that brings me back to my first question. Do you have anything in mind?"

"Hmm... I don't know, maybe something easy? I don't really want to work retail..."

"..."

"Oh! Maybe I could apply to be a secretary? I mean, I know I'm good at being an assistant,"

"That's not-"

"And there must be plenty of positions out there. Cursors, I bet Rocket has some openings!"

"Eh, okay first off, just because you know how to command an army of mobs does not mean you know how to do office work. Secondly, I wouldn't apply to Rocket."

"Huh? Why not? Aren't they're one of the top businesses in the city?"

"Yeah, but you don't fit the company."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"[sighs] I mean, the company has a very particular... brand, when it comes to their employees."

"King I swear to code, that doesn't explain anything."

"They only hire grays..."

"What-"

"Or powered createds."

"... uuuuUUUGGGH. Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately."

"That really sucks. I thought businesses weren't allowed to do that anymore?"

"Yeah, they don't specify it on their job listings but, well, I went in for an interview and they said weren't looking for a 'normal created'. Plus, when I got there, everyone I saw were gray shades."

"Geeze..."

"MmHmm..."

"[sigh] Well, I guess there's other jobs."

"Yeah, besides, it's not that big of a loss. You'd hate corporate. Too much paperwork."

"[huff] You don't know that. What if I like paperwork?"

"You? Ha, yeah right, I've seen you write an email."

"I- Shut up! STOP LAUGHING-"

=O=o=

[sammy8d257]

In the Week that Follows - Chap. 2: Day 1 - Cleaning (part 1)

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 4195

Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them)

CW for this Chapter Part: Implied Minor Character Death (King’s Child), Implied Child Abuse (from Purple’s past), Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Self-Hatred, Minor Swearing, King's Anger Issues, Poor Mental Health, Short description of a Panic Attack indicated by the "++"

[AO3 vers. (Full Chapter)]

= O = o =

On the first day after, morning came as it always does. Beams of light filtered through the window in exactly the right way to land on King's face. The royal (not so royal) stick groaned at the morning sun that threatened to end his slumber. In an effort to delay the inevitable, he rolled onto his side. His entire body protested the action as he tried to settle back into sleep.

It was morning. And morning meant waking up. And King hated waking up. Waking up meant another day of struggling. Waking up meant another day of endless work. Waking up meant another day of living without-

King shot up in bed.

A jolt of pain coursed through his lower back, the muscles stinging from the sudden movement. Ah- Through gritted teeth, the orange stick lowered himself down till his upper back was propped up by his elbows. Oh cursors. His whole body felt like one big bruise. His jaw ached as he gingerly tested its movement.  

King's brows pinched in confusion. What happened last night?

A Year. It's been a year since- Gold. Gold. Minecraft. Gold went into Minecraft and and and and- One Year.Minecraft. The Game. The Game Icon. He did it. He got the Icon and put it in his staff and released its power and and and and- The others. The Desktop Stick Figures. They stopped him. He was close. He was so close to destroying- There was a fight. Multiple fights? One long fight. With game mobs. And a Minecraft creepypasta legend? The Desktoppers fighting together against him with mobs and legends and… Purple. Oh shit.

King swung his legs off the edge of the bed, ripping the blankets from his body and ignoring the sore ache that shot up his spine. His head snapped to the last spot he saw the purple stick only to find- No one there…

On the floor at the foot of the dresser was a neatly folded pile of the pillows and blankets Purple had used for bedding. The pillows were stacked on top of the blankets and that too familiar old comforter peaked out from the bottom of the stack. But their previous night's user was nowhere to be found.

King sucked in a sharp breath, wincing at the dull throb emanating from his cheek and the underside of his chin. A quick glance around the room revealed it the same as he left it. Dusty and dirty with books, boxes, dishes, metal scraps, and more strewn about. 

But still no sign of Purple.

The frown deepened. King brought a hand up to rub at his temple. Squinting in the morning sun, the old analog clock on his wall told him it was around 9:15 am. 

Huh… 

He slept longer than he anticipated. He thought he would have been able to wake up before Purple but apparently not. Still, even with how tired he was, King wasn't that light of a sleeper. Months of stress induced insomnia and general grief did no favors for the quality of sleep he's been getting. Even the smallest of shakes from his windows could have him gasping awake on some nights. So how did Purple not only wake up earlier, fold their borrowed bedding, and leave out the door, all without him knowing?

And more importantly, why didn't they tell him they were leaving?

King stilled.

Why would it matter if Purple told him they were leaving? It wasn't like they were friends. If anything, their relationship could be described as "Boss and Employee", or rather, Ex-Boss and Employee. Given how King only hired Purple for their knowledge and help capturing those desktoppers, he was positive any contractual ties were fulfilled the moment King got a hold of the Minecraft Icon. (And severed the moment he shot them down).

He winced, his mind replaying yesterday's events like an accident he couldn't look away from. Of course. Of course Purple wouldn't want anything to do with him. They dedicated a week of service to help him, trusting a lie that King promised them, and in the end, this is how he repays them? 

By attacking them, electrifying them, abandoning them to be chased off, disintegrating them in a beam of horrible white light-

King sharply inhaled. Dear cursors he almost got them killed, he did get them killed. If it wasn't for the desktoppers, neither he nor Purple would even be alive. He did that. It was his fault. He caused all this unnecessary pain and suffering, and for what? Because he was angry? Because he was sad? Yeah right.

Pathetic. A pathetic excuse for a pathetic stick figure. King thought bitterly. Gold would be ashamed to have you as their father.

The breath caught in his throat. Gold…  

++ King's breath quickened. A familiar rising pressure was starting to push and pull at his chest. The barrier he created to stop the tidal wave of anger grief anguish hurt HURT emotions, was breaking. Cracks were forming and he didn't know how to stop it. Please stop, stop it, stop STOP-

He was so angry. He still is so angry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse. He wanted to hurt the world. Hurt it as much as it hurt him. Break it, destroy it, tear it apart so it can never hurt him again because it's- It's not fair. It's not fair. It hurts. This Hurts. Cursors this hurts so much. They're gone. They're gone forever and there's no one to blame but him.It's your fault. You let this happen. This is YOUR FAULT.

Why can't he breathe? He's dying oh cursors heDeserves ItHe does. He knows he does. He's alone. He's going to be aloneForever and ever and ever until the dirt swallows him whole and he finally rots for everything he's-

he's, he's…

Tired. He's so tired. . .

. . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . ..

++

A shudder ran through his body as he gasped for air. A dull ache laced up his back and into his arms. They felt as heavy as lead from their position anchored around his head. The world felt sluggish and the morning sun looked muted from his curled position on the bed. His chest hurt.

With shaky, wheezy breaths, King carefully released his head from the death grip he held it in. He must have grabbed it when he curled in on himself. He winced as he straightened his posture, the muscles in his back throbbing from the strain. 

How long had he-? King's mind stuttered, the residue of his panicked state slowly clearing as he forced himself to take slower breaths. He ignored the slight wheeze that persisted. His limbs still held a small tremor as he carefully pushed himself into a sitting position. He glanced at the clock, 9:28, and sighed. The familiar sensation of a headache pulsed between his eyes. 

Normally, at this point in the day, he would already be drinking his second cup of coffee and furiously working on another staff prototype or researching the capabilities of a more powerful block or pouring over another book. 

But today? Today, he didn't have to do that. There was no goal left, no reason to get up. He had rightfully failed and pushed away everyone in his life. Today, he didn't want to do anything. Whatever "responsibilities" he was supposed to do could wait. So today, he was going to sleep until tomorrow.

No more thinking. No more acting. No more. Just him and the sweet nothings of sleep.

Still, as he laid himself back down, a thought persisted in his exhausted mind.

It would have been nice to say goodbye… 

The orange stick figure winced. Despite it all, a part of King wanted to hold on to the hope that maybe, possibly, Purple didn't hate him. But another part, a smarter part, told him to bury his face further into his pillow. After everything he did, a proper goodbye was the last thing he deserved.

Yes, King sighed, eyes slipping closed as he surrendered himself to the oblivion of sleep.

Purple would be better off staying away.

= O = o = 

2 hours later, King awoke with a start at the sound of his doorbell ringing.

Who in the name of Flash- King groaned. 

Groggily, he dragged his hands down his face. The sharp throb of his left cheek did wonders at waking him up faster.

It was, King squinted at the clock, 12:13. 

Who in their right mind was ringing his doorbell in the middle of the day? Didn't they know some people were trying to rest?

Whoever it was, they were about to face the wrath of a sleep deprived man.

Grumbling, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. A rush of vertigo made the tall stick stagger but he quickly recovered enough to steady himself and stomp his way to the door. The doorknob was nearly pulled out of its socket as he yanked the door open.

"What do you WANT-" The scratchy snarl died in his throat as King stared into the face of one very surprised Purple.

For a moment, the two stick figures stood there, frozen by shock. A second passed. Then two, then three, as they both stared at each other. 

What was Purple even doing here? Why did they come back? King's mind raced with theories trying to justify why Purple would ever want to be near him again. Money? Revenge? Came back to give him what he deserves for being such a worthless-

"...?"

Sounds. Words. King blinked. The noises paused when Purple's mouth stopped moving. Their brows were furrowed and they stared at him with a mix of concern and confusion. King narrowed his own eyes in response, his mind desperately trying to comprehend the situation before him. 

"What did you say?" King sputtered, his voice finally working. It came out rough and he lifted his free hand to massage his throat. He flinched when he could feel the beginnings of a bruise forming.

Purple continued to stare. Their questioning eyes broke eye contact to raked over his form. King had the urge to curl in on himself in some vain attempt to somehow hide. Eventually, Purple's gaze returned back to his face and that feeling of shame doubled. 

"I said, you look awful. Did I accidentally wake you? I'm sorry." Purple said in a soft tone. Nervously, they shifted a large pink tote bag from their shoulder down so they were holding it comfortably by the straps. King followed the movement with his eyes.

Purple was here. Purple was here. They came back. But why? Why come back when they have already left? Did they want him back in their life? Maybe they wanted something from him?

"What… are you doing here?" he finally asked. They left but they came back. And if nothing else, King wanted to know why. The tiny flame of hope that hours earlier he ignored, was reigniting in his chest.

At that question, Purple tilted their head in confusion. "You didn't read my note?" 

"Note?" King frowned and he let his arm drop from the doorknob to his side. "What note?"

The younger stick figure leaned to the side to peer through the doorway. Carefully, they readjusted their grip on the bag in their arms and gestured to a spot beyond King. Slowly, the orange stick figure turned his torso towards the area Purple pointed to. It was the shelf that stood at the foot of his bed.

He squinted, trying to focus his eyes. On top of the shelf were the usual items of the photo, a stack of papers, and a small box filled with random things King put down and never picked back up. Nothing seemed out of place. The photo remained in its spot, the box didn't look like it gained any new items and the stack of papers had a neatly folded piece of paper on it. 

Wait a minute-

King fully turned away from the door and walked towards the shelf. Sitting on top of a stack of various articles and reports King had printed out in hopes of furthering his research, was a small piece of paper folded widthwise. If it wasn't for the fact that it had his name written on top, King would have easily mistaken it for any other papers strewn about.

Huh, would you look at that, King thought as he gingerly picked up the folded note.

He glanced back to the open doorway. Purple had not moved from their spot and was looking at him expectantly. He pressed his mouth into a hardline and dropped his gaze back down to the note in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he opened it up.

[ To King,

I need to get some cleaning and medical supplies from my apartment. I do not know when I will be able to come back but I will try to return around noon at the latest. 

Thank you,Purple ]

King read the note, and then read it again. The paper crinkled from his grip. Its words were simple and straightforward but it made his throat thick with an emotion he couldn't place. Purple left because they were getting supplies. They left and came back because they wanted to…

Slowly, King turned to face the fidgeting stick figure in the doorway. They were shifting from foot to foot and nervously darting their eyes from the note, to King's face, to a random spot in the room, and back. When they noticed he had turned back to them, the fidgeting stopped and they immediately straightened their posture.

"You're here because…" King trailed off, his voice no louder than a strained whisper.

And Purple replied just as softly, "Because I want to help."

A silence born from disbelief blanketed the room. One second passed, then two, then three, as the two of them didn't dare make a move.

It wasn't until King's breath caught in his throat and he doubled over in a coughing fit, did that silence break. 

"KING!" Purple called as they rushed forward towards the incapacitated stick. Said stick figure was currently using the shelf to support his weight while he crushed the note to his chest as he tried to calm his lungs. 

King heard a soft THUMP! to his side and felt gentle hands shift support from the shelf to their hold. He glanced over at Purple's worried face and tried to reassure them but it only came out as a wheezy hiss in-between coughs. Carefully, he felt himself lowered into a sitting position on his bed. The hands shifted from holding him up, to gently holding on to his arm and rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Purple was saying something next to him but King couldn't make it out over his own strained breath. Eventually, he shut his eyes and focused on controlling his breathing and the comforting feel of the hand on his back.

A few moments later, King's breath finally calmed to a point where he didn't feel like he was choking. 

The hand on his back paused its ministrations as King glanced towards his left. Purple sat there staring at him, one arm outstretched towards his upper back and the other providing a grounding hold on his arm. Their face held a look of concern but there was an intensity hidden in their eyes that had King doing a double take.

"Purp-" 

"How are you feeling?" Purple cut him off. Gone was the nervous stick who stood in the doorway waiting patiently for approval. In their place was a stick figure who held an air of professionalism. King blinked at the sudden switch.

"T-tired?" He rasped in confusion. Purple frowned at the wheeze still present in his voice and carefully they began rubbing circles into his back again. The tight muscles of his upper back started to loosened and King could feel his air flow improve. Purple smiled and nodded to themself, seemingly happy at this development.

"There you go, easy. Take as deep of a breath you can but don't try to push yourself," Purple said calmly. "Here, try to match my rhythm."

With practiced ease, the younger stick figure inhaled a breath, held it for 2 seconds, and then slowly released it.

King stared at the other as he automatically started syncing his breath in time with Purple's. 

What in the world was going on? Now that the threat of another coughing fit was gone, King's mind was racing. 

He's grateful, he really is, for the aid Purple was giving him but the comforting hand, the calming breathing, the soft calculating eyes, it all left him reeling in confusion. Purple was being kind, kinder than he deserves, and King didn't know why.

"Purple…what…" King paused as he collected his thoughts. "What was that?"

The purple stick figure smiled up at him. "You were having a coughing fit. My guess is that it may have been triggered by the strain from the rest of your injuries."

Purple hummed, slowing the circles on his back before stopping all together. They gave him another once over with their eyes lingering on the areas with the most visible bruising. King squirmed.

"Speaking of injuries," Purple continued. "Have you had a chance to take care of them yet? I don't mean to be rude but it looks like the bruise on your cheek hasn't been treated at all and it feels like you're still covered in the soot from the Nether."

King said nothing but lifted a hand to cradle his swollen cheek. It felt tender under his press and as he traced his lower jaw, he could feel the tell-tale signs of another bruise. Memories of a netherite infused staff colliding with his jaw sent phantom pains echoing through his head. Luckily, he was distracted from his thoughts as he brushed over the layer of coarse grit that still clung to his body. An embarrassed blush crept onto his face that he hoped wasn't visible to the other. In his defense, he had just woken up and hadn't had time to do anything yet, let alone shower. Still, the thought that he had let someone see how much of a mess he was, made him want to crawl under covers in shame. 

Purple pressed their lips into a hard line and hummed. They debated something in their mind before they nodded to themself and beamed a pleasant grin at him. "Alright then. Let's get you clean first. Come on." 

In one swift move, Purple shifted their right hand to support the small of his back and tightened their hold on his arm as they stood from the bed.

Bewildered at the younger's actions, King allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and ushered into the hall. 

"Purple-" 

"Don't worry, I remember which door is the bathroom," Purple said as if that was the thing King wanted to question them about and not the fact that they were near dragging him toward a door down the hall. Despite their smaller size, their grip on his arm was surprisingly strong but gentle all the same. It was done with an ease that could have only come from practice. King found himself frowning at that thought. 

Once the duo reached the end of the hallway, Purple quickly opened the door to their left and flipped on the lightswitch. The sudden brightness from the lightbulbs had King blinking as Purple pulled him into the bathroom. 

"Alright," Purple released King from their grip and pointed towards the closed lid of the toilet. With a cheery grin, they continued. "How about you take a seat and rest while I get everything set up!"

When King didn't move from his spot, Purple sighed and gently retook his hand in theirs. He didn't resist as the younger stick maneuvered him to sit on the toilet lid. Satisfied, Purple nodded and turned back around.

King's mind raced. As he watched Purple flit around the room, he could feel irritation start to build towards a familiar anger. This… this was ridiculous. They were treating him like he was made of glass, like he was some child! He was a fully grown adult who just yesterday almost took down an entire video game from the inside out. He was no wilting flower nor a porcelain doll. But here he was, being treated like he couldn't even shower himself. He knew they were trying to help but this was humiliating. 

"Purple."

"Alright, you stay right there and I'll start the water for you."

"Purple."

"Hmm, this is a different handle than what I'm used to but don't worry, I can figure it out."

"Purple."

"Ah HA! Got it! Alright, let me just check to make sure the water isn't too hot-"

"PURPLE!"

Purple shot to their feet from their hunched position over the side of the tub. Stiffly, they turned towards King. 

"Y-yes?" They hesitantly ask. Their confident, pleasant smile was stretched thin across their face

King sighed, the anger already dissolving back into annoyance. 

"I know how to use my own shower."

Purple cringed. "I know. I just, you're hurt and I didn't want you to- I mean, of course you're able to- I just- Sorry."

King watched as the younger stick hung their head in shame. Their shoulders were hunched and after a moment they looked at him with a tense expression as if waiting for him to react. He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, wincing at the soreness of his cheek. 

"Purple, it's fine," King said tiredly, his eyes flickering to the stick as they stood straighter at the mention of their name. He just wanted to make the other understand he didn't need all this coddling. "It's just… I'm not a child, you know this right? I know how to take care of myself."

Purple jolted, opening their mouth as if to say something, only for them to reconsider and shut it. Instead, they fidgeted in place by ringing their hands together. Clearly, there was something the stick wanted to say but out of respect? Fear? King didn't know, but whatever the reason, the younger stick figure said nothing. 

"Just-" King paused. While he would be lying if he didn't want to question Purple over this odd behavior, he didn't think his bathroom was the place to have that conversation. Especially not when that tight grin on Purple's face was starting to wobble. "Just wait out in the main room. We can continue this when I'm done."

The two stick figures stared at the other over the sound of running water. A second passed, then two, then three. Purple bit the inside of their cheek as an unknown expression crossed their face. Whatever was on their mind was still bothering them but after a moment, they nodded.

"Right. I'll see you after." With that, Purple turned and stiffly walked to the door. They refused to meet King's eyes as they passed him.

Before they left, Purple paused with a hand on the doorknob and their back facing towards him. "If you need any help-"

"Purple."

"Of course. Right. Sorry," Purple stammered as they fled the room. The bathroom door closed with a click, leaving the only sound of water running.

King slumped in his seat and groaned. Weird, all of this was weird. Was this his punishment? Being forced to deal with increasingly confusing situations with an equally confusing stick figure until he finally snaps? Even when he's already failed, the world just kept throwing shit at him.

Such is my life, he thought humorlessly. He glanced at the bathtub. The faucet was still running from when Purple was checking the temperature. Sighing, King stood from his seat on the toilet lid. Movement caught the corner of his vision and King turned slightly to his left to see his reflection staring back.

Cursors, he looked awful.

His near permanent eye bags somehow looked even darker than before. The bruise on his cheek was turning an ugly shade of dark oranges and yellows, and King could see it extend into slight purples and browns on the underside of his chin. A small puncture wound, no doubt from the time that green desktopper hooked him in place with his fishing rod, was located on his right shoulder. He supposed he was lucky it was so shallow or else it could get infected. Though he should get it cleaned. As King continued to rake his gaze over his form, he spotted various other small bruises and scrapes scattered across his body. 

They weren't too bad, he thought. Nothing a few days of rest couldn't fix. Although…

He grimaced at the layer of grime on his skin. 

He really did need a shower.

Wordlessly, King turned away from the bathroom mirror and stepped into the tub. With a flick of the handle, the pouring water switched from the faucet below to the showerhead above. He groaned appreciatively as the tension started to seep out of his muscles. 

The water was at the perfect temperature. 

= O = o =

[sammy8d257]

In the Week that Follows - Chap. 2: Day 1 - Cleaning (part 2)

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 6887

Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them)

CW for this Chapter Part: Implied Minor Character Death (King’s Child), Implied Child Abuse (from Purple’s past), Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Self-Hatred, Minor Swearing, King's Anger Issues, Poor Mental Health, Brief Descriptions of Injuries

[AO3 vers. (Full Chapter)]

(To quote myself while I wrote this, "10K+ words in and these idiots haven't even started cleaning the house yet, wtf" Also it'll be explained in Pt 3 but the food King and Purple are eating is a Filipino dish called "Lugaw" because I'm the author and if I want to give Purple Filipino traits, I will alskjdlgsgdgs /lh)

= O = o =

20 minutes later, a freshly showered King stepped into the hallway.

With a soft towel, he patted parts of his body dry as he made his way down the hall. He had to admit, the shower did wonders for him. He was clean and awake and while his muscles were still sore, it was leagues above how he felt when he first woke up. He wondered if it would be weird to thank Purple for pushing him to shower. Even if it was done in a weird and trying manner.

Speaking of Purple, King rounded the corner into the main room and spotted them rummaging around their large pink tote bag. In his absence, the purple stick had unfurled one of the blankets from last night and laid it out on the floor at the side of his bed. The various pillows were strewn on top of the bedding to act as places to sit and near the center of the arrangement were various medical supplies.

King squinted. There were rolls of bandages, a box of medical adhesives, various tubes of ointments and creams, a box of rapid cold-hot patches, and what looks like an old pink colored over-the-shoulder heating pad. Purple still had their attention focused solely on finding something in their bag and King watched as their eyes lit up as they found what they were looking for. 

With a triumphant grin, the younger stick pulled a bottle of pain killers free and nearly dropped it in surprise when they noticed King standing in the doorway.

"King!" Purple yelped. They smoothed down ruffled parts of the blanket before leaning back to sit rigidly in their spot. Silently, they placed the painkillers down near the rest of the medical supplies and gestured for him to sit.

King quirked a brow at the stick figure before making his way towards the blanket. He took a seat on one of the pillows, folding the towel in half and placing it to the side.

"Quite the spread you got here," King commented nonchalantly. Purple's eyes snapped to meet his gaze before concentrating back on their lap. After taking a moment to psych themself up, they looked up at King and squared their shoulders. King blinked as Purple spoke,

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to demean you. You are completely capable of taking care of yourself and it was wrong of me to have assumed you couldn't. I-"

Purple faltered. Their eyes darted to the pink tote bag to their side before returning to King's face. "I should have realized the help you needed wasn't the same as the help I'm used to giving and for that, I'm sorry."

They sucked in a breath. "If you'll still have me, I would like to keep helping you. I promise I'll improve my behavior."

With that, the younger stick figure bowed their head and trained their gaze on their hands.

A silence stretched as King stared mouth agape at the other. 

What? What was that? Why did-?

"I- You don't-" King sputtered, clenching his fist tightly together. This was NOT how he expected this conversation to go. Yes, King wanted an apology for the way Purple treated him, but not like this. He expected a stuttering apology, fast and rambling like the kind Gold would give when they racked up late fees at the library. That was normal. That was natural. King could handle that. But this? This was practiced. This was straight to the point with each word and phrase meticulously picked out to be as placating as possible. They've done this before. And he didn't know why but that thought made him uneasy. 

"Purple, kid-" Purple blinked owlishly at him. "You're okay. It's fine. I'm not mad. I promise. I just…" King paused as he tried to find the right words. He could feel the beginnings of a tension headache form as Purple stared expectantly at him.

"Look, I appreciate you trying to help me even if it's been… really weird. But I'm an adult. I don't need to be coddled," And King bit back a curse when Purple's gaze turned blank. He lifted a hand to his chest and quickly continued. "I still want you around though! It's nice having someone else here besides myself. So if you still want to help, then you can."

A second passed, then two, then three as Purple stared wide-eyed until a small grin broke out on their face. They nodded, happily clasping their hands together on their lap. They seemed relieved and King felt the corners of his own mouth turn upwards.

"To be honest," He brought a hand up to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck, slightly wincing at the strain in his shoulders. "I'm still wondering why you wanted to help me in the first place. I mean, it's not like I'm your boss anymore." 

Purple paused and tilted their head in confusion. "Why wouldn't I help you?"

"Um, because… Because I got you hurt while you were working for me?" King said slowly. The frown reformed on his face at the sight of Purple's bemused expression. It was as if the thought of not helping King had never crossed their mind.

The purple stick shrugged.

"It's okay," Their nonchalant tone made King's skin crawl. "I signed up for it. You can call it a workplace hazard."

King let out a sharp bark of laughter. The disbelief was heavy in his throat. "A workplace-? Purple no. I almost got you killed. That's not-"

He cut himself off as Purple waved a hand dismissively. 

"It's okay," Purple repeated. "Really. Don't worry about it. You came back for me, so it's okay."

And King hated the way the words died on his tongue. He wanted to ask why Purple was just okay with everything. How could they just brush the last 24 hours off? How could they just be fine with getting hurt? He wanted to ask why they were so willing to help him. He knew he didn't deserve it.

But he didn't, couldn't ask. Not when Purple was looking at him with those understanding eyes. Not when Purple said they wanted to stay and help. Not when they didn't hate him. He was afraid they'd change their mind.

So he held his tongue and let the words and questions dissolve into the air.

"Alright," King relented and Purple's grin relaxed into something more genuine. 

King averted his gaze. The kind smile Purple was giving him made his stomach curl. Or maybe it was doing that because it was already past noon and he hadn't eaten anything.

As if on cue, a loud growl emanated from his stomach. Both sticks stared wide eyed until a furious blush erupted on King's face. Purple tried to hide their giggles behind their hands.

"Well, someone's hungry," Purple teased. King groaned, burying his face in his hands in embarrassment. 

"Yeah I, uh," King coughed into his fist. "I haven't eaten yet."

"Oh! Well it's a good thing I brought food then!" The younger stick beamed at the other and patted the side of the pink tote. "Although, I think we should finish your health check first."

With a huff, King reached down into the medical pile and grabbed the painkillers. The bottle in his hand wasn't a brand he recognized. If he had to guess, it was one of the generic versions available at local pharmacies. He turned the bottle over in his hand and read the information on the back. Branded or not, ibuprofen was ibuprofen and King was in no position to complain.

Gingerly, King popped the lid open and shook two pills out onto his palm. He lifted his hand to his mouth and without hesitation, swallowed both pills dry. He grimaced at the feeling of the medication down his throat.

A strangled noise from across the blanket had King looking up into the horrified eyes of Purple. Their arm was halfway outstretched with an unopened water bottle grasped in it and their mouth hung open in shock.

King lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"I- You," Purple sputtered. "You take your pills dry?"

"Uh, I mean yeah, sometimes." King shrugged, leaning forward to take the bottle from Purple's hand. Purple cringed.

"Aren't you worried about damaging your throat?"

King twisted the cap off of the water and took a sip before answering. "Not really. I'm pretty sturdy. It's not like a sore throat will kill me."

The younger stick didn't reply, instead their face pulled into a furrowed expression before they sighed and looked away.

King arched a brow before focusing back down at the pile. An assortment of various medical supplies stared back up at him. Some of them he could recognize from his own first aid kit, albeit his were the commercial brands, but others he couldn't place. Still, there was one he was familiar with and he reached down to pick it up.

It was bruise cream, contained in a medium size plastic squeeze tube. Judging from its broken seal and weight, it had definitely been used before. King was no stranger to this type of cream, having a bottle always stocked in the bathroom medicine cabinet, so he knew how to apply it.

Taking off the lid, he dabbed a pea sized lump on his fingers and carefully worked the cream into the tender flesh of his left cheek. Then he repeated the process, this time focusing on the underside of his jaw. Once done, he placed the tube back on the blanket and picked up the box of adhesive bandages. It came with multiple sizes in it and King picked out two bandages, one a large square and the other a longer rectangle. Peeling the backing off, he applied the square bandage over his cheek and the rectangle bandage along the underside of his jaw. King exhaled, slowly opening and closing his mouth to test his now more limited movement range.

With his face covered, the next thing was to take care of his back. He pulled the bruise cream and a roll of bandages closer to him. He was about to grab the box of cold-hot patches when Purple piped up.

"If you're going to use those patches, don't put the bruise cream on."

King stilled. "Huh?"

"Those are pain relief patches," Purple pointed towards the box that King had been reaching for. "You shouldn't mix them with any topical ointments. They contain their own mix of medication that could mess with the chemical properties of the bruise cream and either reduce the effectiveness of both items or cause a rash to form. Plus, you need dry skin in order for it to stick."

"Oh… And you know this because…?"

"Prior experience."

"Ah."

King blew a puff of air from his mouth. Glancing up, he could see Purple staring at him from across the blanket. Their eyes were slightly narrowed as they seemed to be thinking something over in their mind.

"Okay, well… Which do you think I should use then?" King asked. Purple blinked, their eyes clearing as they registered the question.

"Oh! Um, the bruise cream," They pointed down at the tube and bandages by King's lap. "You already took some painkillers so the pain-killing properties of the cold-hot patches seem kinda redundant at the moment. The bruise cream will at least provide some much needed healing for your injuries."

King contemplated Purple's explanation. It made sense. Purple sure seemed to know what they were doing when it came to medical stuff. He hummed, recalling Purple's past words. Prior experience, huh? King wondered just what type of experience they had.

The orange stick figure glanced at the other. They looked young but old enough to participate in the usual fights stick figures were known for. Although, from the week spent working with them, they never seemed "fight-inclined". Sure they could hold their own when needed but flight seemed like their go-to. Although, King supposed they didn't have to be from a fighting background to have fighting experience. His own origins as "the King" from an old abandoned flash game proved as much. Still, with all the little glimpses he's seen, King would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in Purple's past. Maybe if he played his cards right, Purple would be willing to answer some questions later.

"Alright. Fair enough," King said as he grabbed the bruise cream and popped its lid back open. He released a hiss as he worked the cream into his lower back. The muscles there were tender and King didn't even want to know how mottled his skin was from the bruises. If he had to guess, the bruises probably stretched from his tailbone to about midway up his back. Silently, he thanked the coders above that his spine didn't seem to be affected from this whole ordeal.

When he finished, he recapped the tube and picked up the gauze pads along with a roll of bandages. With how large the area felt, he figured one of the adhesive strips wouldn't cut it. Instead a large gauze pad and elastic bandages would have to do.

King grunted, the angle he held the gauze put a slight strain on his muscles. Quickly, he wrapped his lower back, breathing in a sigh of relief as the gauze stayed in place. After a few more passes around his body, he cut and tied off the end of the bandage at his side. 

Taking a big breath in, King tested the snugness of the wraps. They were a little looser than King probably needed but since they were wrapped around his stomach, he didn't want them too tight. He still needed to eat after all. Speaking of, King's stomach growled again. King sighed. He was done with his health check so the next course of action should be food.

King shifted in his seat, making a move to get up.

"Hold on," Purple's voice caused King to pause. He turned his head to stare at the younger stick whose arm was outstretched in a 'stop' motion. With that same hand, they motioned him to sit back down.

"You have another one," Purple said. "It's along your upper back and shoulders."

King frowned, brows pinched in confusion. His back and shoulders were hurting earlier but he thought that it was residue from when he crash landed on the jukebox. Most of the pain felt like it stemmed from his lower back but according to Purple, he had another injury he wasn't aware of. Sitting down, King craned his neck back to look over his shoulder at the expanse of his back he could see.

Oh.

What greeted his eyes were what looked to be pixelated burn lines creeping along his shoulders and disappearing past his line of vision towards the center of his back. The lines were a slightly deeper orange color and it formed a disjointed pattern of squares that tapered off and disappeared into the surrounding skin. Gingerly, King reached a finger to poke at the burns, hissing slightly when a hot pain flared at his touch. 

King winced. How did he miss this earlier? Did the soothing heat from the shower somehow cover up any sort of indication of this injury? Slowly, his eyes roamed over the rest of his body. Littered across the backs of his limbs were small patches of these pixel burns, although these ones were light in color and barely noticeable. It seemed like the majority of the dark burns were along his back. 

"Where did…" King's question trailed off as his mind raced to figure out what these scars were from. Luckily, he didn't need to wonder for too long because Purple had his answer.

"The staff," They said, making a sweeping motion with their hand. "The white light. It was disintegrating things. And it, well, you know what happened."

King blinked. A second passed, then two, then three. And then he brought his hands to his face and groaned.

"Cursors," King swore under his breath. He placed a hand on his forehead and groaned again. "Yeah, no. That… That makes sense."

He grit his teeth. How could he have forgotten something as crucial as getting vaporized? A dull throb pinched between his eyes at the stinging memory. King rubbed small circles into his forehead to try and relieve the oncoming tension headache. 

"-would that be alright, King? … King?"

"What?" King snapped and then immediately cringed at the loudness.The relief from the painkillers hadn't kicked in yet and the added ache of his head was making King's already short temper, even shorter. Purple, to their credit, didn't flinch at the harsh tone. Instead, they held his gaze for a second before speaking again.

"Would it be okay if I helped bandage your burns?" Purple asked. 

King did a double take, Purple's question causing all previous irritation to be replaced with confusion. Did Purple just ask if they could help bandage him? 

"What? Why?" The bewilderment was clear in his voice.

"I know you can take care of yourself, and that includes taking care of your own injuries, but," Purple brought their hand to their chest, their voice soft and steady. "Applying the burn ointment to the middle of your shoulder blades and also having to bandage it would be difficult to do by yourself."

"Not impossible," they quickly added. "But it would be difficult. If I can help in any way, then I want to. I really do."

They spoke with such sincerity that King had no doubt they were genuine. He blinked, slowly turning their gaze from Purple to look at medicine surrounding them. The younger stick had brought all of this to help him. Not only that, for the past hour, they were trying to make sure King was okay and healthy. They didn't seem like they were doing this out of spite or to get something from him. Despite all of his previous assumptions, they're doing this because they want to help him.

Oh. They actually care.

King swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.

"King? Are you okay?" Purple asked hesitantly.

King waved a hand and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I mean, yes. Yes to both. I'm okay and yes. Yes, I would like you to help me."

Purple stared silently at him before a small smile lit their face and they nodded. Without saying a word, they grabbed a small tube with a fire icon on it and shuffled forward. King could feel Purple's presence as they sat behind him and he could hear them breaking the seal off of the burn ointment. He tensed for a second as Purple placed their fingers along his shoulder blades.

The cool feeling of the ointment felt heavenly on his skin. King didn't realize how tight his upper back and shoulder were until Purple started gently applying the medicine to it. They worked silently, only speaking up to apologize whenever King would tense as they passed over a particularly tender spot. 

When the younger of the two finished, they asked King to pass them the gauze pads and roll of bandages. King reached over and placed the items into Purple's outstretched hands.

"Thank you," Purple readjusted their position behind King and started unwrapping the roll. The orange stick sat up a little straighter as they felt hands hold the gauze in place. If Purple was going through all this trouble to help him, he didn't want to accidentally mess up the bandages by slouching. 

Just like before, Purple was gentle as they wrapped the bandages around King's torso, occasionally pausing to ask if anything was too tight or uncomfortable. King shook his head. He couldn't remember the last time someone looked after him with this level of care and detail. In his own experience, he only really saw something similar when he himself would take care of any injuries Gold would accrue in their many hours of playing. 

It was… nice. A lot nicer than King expected and after a minute, he found himself relaxing under Purple's light touches. He glanced downwards to watch as purple hands passed the roll of bandages across his shoulders and chest. 

King sighed contently. 

He was about to focus his gaze elsewhere when something caught his eye. Was there something… wrong with Purple's hands? Maybe it was because their movement was messing with his vision but King could almost swear they looked… uneven. It was as if the solid color of skin that most stick figures were known for, was streaked with dark patches and lines. King frowned. He tucked his chin to his chest to get a better look, but no sooner than he did, Purple pulled away.

"Alright, I think you're all good now!" Purple announced. They pulled slightly on the bandages to check that they were secure at the back before they shuffled forward so that they and King were face to face. Again, Purple reached towards the bandages wrapped around King's chest and checked to make sure they were in place. 

"Everything looks secure," Purple stated and started retracting their hands. "If anything's too tight or uncomfortable, just let me know and I-"

"Wait-" 

Purple jolted as King caught their wrist. With wide eyes they stared at King whose gaze was instead focused on the arm held in his grasp. 

King flipped it over, his frown deepening the closer he looked down at the purple limb before him. It wasn't a trick of the light. Spiderwebbed across their palms, streaked across their wrists, and branched across their forearms, were the same pixelated mess of electrical burns that arched along his own back. The scars were slightly darker in color and blended well within the surrounding skin. If it wasn't for the fact that King was watching their hands so closely, he doubted he would have even seen it.

King bit back a curse. Of course. Of course Purple would also have these burns. They were exposed to the white light of the staff for much longer than he was and if he had burns, then it would only make sense if Purple did as well. He was so focused on his own injuries he didn't even stop to think if Purple had their own. King swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat from guilt. He should have checked on them first.

Concerned eyes trailed up Purple's arms, searching for any more injuries. There was nothing major along their biceps but then he saw it. Stretched across their chest was a burn so large, King mentally cursed himself for not noticing it sooner. The edges were lighter in color than the usual purple skin and as it went to the center of the injury, it transitioned into the same dark color of Purple's other burns. With how big and smooth the transitions between the injury and the surrounding skin were, from a distance it looked like Purple's chest just had a shadow cast on it. But up close? Although it was subtle, King could see the edges.

The guilt swirled into a dark pit in the orange stick's gut. The burns along their hand and arms were no doubt the result of getting disintegrated from the staff, King had his own set of pixel burns to prove it, but the injury to Purple's chest. That…

That was all King's doing.

-The staff buzzed with a power infinitely more alive than the command block ever felt. King floated higher, a determined smile splayed across his face. This was it. This was what he spent the last year of blood, sweat, and tears working for. He was so close. The smile on his face twitched at the edges into something more maniacal. He was going to burn everything to the ground-Something, or rather someone grabbed his staff. King snarled and stared down into the face of Purple. The younger stick looked up at him hopefully, their hands clasped around the staff. Anger rose in his chest. How dare this fool try to take what was his. How dare they try to stop him. With one hand, King pushed the purple stick figure away from the staff. A look of confusion flashed on their face before they lunged forward again. King stopped them, holding them by the head as they flailed, still trying to grab at the staff. Anger and disgust grew and with one fell swoop, he brought the staff down. Crackling black electricity connected with the younger stick's chest and Purple-

Purple yanked their hand from King's grasp. King startled, eyes blinking from the memory. The purple stick figure scrambled back and stared at him with a guarded expression. One hand was curled protectively over the other in front of their chest. 

A silence passed, then two, then three before King spoke.

"Purple…"

"I'm fine," they cut him off. "Don't worry about me."

King frowned. "You're not fine. This-" He swept a hand towards Purple for emphasis but immediately dropped it when the younger stick flinched.

"This…" He said a little softer. "This is not fine."

Purple cringed, choosing instead to stare at the floor. King continued. "Your injuries, did you know you had them?"

"Yes. I looked at them before coming here."

King's frown deepened. "Before you came here? Why haven't you taken care of them yet?"

They mumbled something that was too quiet for King to make out. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Purple's lips curled into a scowl. They spoke again, this time loud enough for King to hear. "Didn't want to waste supplies."

The orange stick shook his head, confusion clear on his face. "Waste supplies? What do you mean waste? What were you trying to save them for?"

Purple didn't say anything. Instead their eyes flickered to his face. Or more specifically, their eyes met his gaze before lowering to linger on his bandaged cheek. For a moment, King stared confused before the realization hit and he recoiled. 

"Purple," A mix of disbelief and horror in his voice. "No. I don't… I didn't need all this. You didn't need to do that."

They scoffed. "Of course I did. I'm here to help you. How am I supposed to do that if I don't have enough supplies?"

"Enough supplies? You have enough!" King said, dumbfounded. "You have enough bandages to wrap a horse!"

"You don't know that," snapped Purple. They fidgeted in their spot in clear agitation.

King threw his hands up. The frustration clear in his voice. "I can damn well guess from the pile you dumped out!"  He gestured towards Purple. "You have more than enough to look after your own injuries!"

Purple's eyes flashed. "And what if I end up using too much?"

"Then you use too much! Big deal! That's not the problem here!" King exclaimed. 

He didn't get it. How could Purple waste their time and resources on the person who quite literally was the one who caused them harm in the first place and still try to justify why they were right for ignoring their own injuries? It didn't make sense. Purple cares, it's obvious that they do, but King didn't deserve this level of dedication. Not this much. Not at the expense of Purple's own well-being.

A realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. Every action Purple had done for King up until this point, recontextualized themselves within his mind. Purple was helping him. 

Purple was only helping him.

"If you've been putting me first in everything you do…" he slowly asked. Purple stared at him wide-eyed, on edge from King's disconcerted tone. "Were you ever going to take care of yourself?"

"Yes!" they said quickly.

"When?"

"When I'm done helping you!"

"And when would that be?"

Purple's mouth shut with a click. Their face scrunched in shame as their gaze fell to the floor. Right. Of course Purple didn't know. It all depended on how fast King's injuries healed. King let out an exasperated sigh, bringing a hand to rub at his temple again.

He was no expert in mental health but even he could tell this seemingly compulsive need to help even at the expense of their own wellbeing, was probably not healthy. Unfortunately, this sort of thing was not something King wanted nor was equipped to dissect at this moment, so he mentally filed it away for later. Something he could do right now was help Purple.

"Alright. We're going to take care of your injuries," King said matter-of-factly.

Purple's head snapped up in surprise. "What? No! We don't need to-"

But King cut them off with a wave of his hand. "You said you wanted to help me? Well, you can help me by making sure you're taken care of first."

Purple grit their teeth. Conflicting emotions played on their face at the older stick's words. "King, this isn't really necessary. I'm okay-" 

"If you don't, then you can consider yourself done and you can leave."

For a second, King wanted to retract his ultimatum at Purple's horrified expression but he held firm. Was this underhanded? Yes Was this taking advantage of Purple's obsessive desire to help? Probably. But if this is what it takes to make sure Purple takes care of themself? Then so be it. If they want to be stubborn, then they'll get stubbornness back. 

Purple looked like they wanted to scream. They bit their lip, stopping themself from saying anything as numerous expressions passed across their face. Finally, a look of neutral defeat settled and they sighed. 

"Alright." Purple said quietly and they reached forward to pull the burn ointment and bandage roll onto their lap. 

A silence filled the house as King watched Purple diligently tend to their injured hands. It was methodical, almost mechanical in the way they quickly and efficiently applied ointment to the patches of pixel scars. Prior experience, indeed. 

King filed that thought away with the rest as Purple began carefully wrapping their hands. He squinted. Purple was using the same roll of bandages that King used to wrap his body. Judging by the thinness of it, it was almost out. Luckily, there were more bandage rolls set out on the blanket.

Sure enough, by the time Purple was done wrapping their hands, the roll was practically finished. Purple set the tube on the ground and King quickly snapped up another roll of bandages before they could grab it. Purple eyes blinked in confusion as they stared questioningly into orange. 

"I can help bandage your chest. You said it yourself that wrapping that area can be difficult to do on your own," King explained. Purple frowned, somewhat shocked at having their own words used against them. They didn't say anything, so King continued. "It's the least I could do since I was the one who gave you that injury."

Purple opened their mouth to protest but was cut off as King kept going. "Plus, think of it as me repaying the favor. Since you helped bandage my back earlier. It's only fair that I help bandage you too."

The younger stick didn't respond right away. Their brows scrunched while a contemplative look adorned their expression. After a second, they slowly nodded.

"Okay." 

And King let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"But before the bandages get placed," Purple interjected, they fidgeted for a second before plucking the bruise cream from the blanket. They held it out towards King. "My shoulders… I got some bruises from when my elytra was yanked. Could you…?"

King carefully took the tube from Purple's hand. "Of course. I'll get your shoulders and you can get your chest?" 

The younger stick figure nodded, reaching over to grab the burn ointment and an application pad. Then they turned so their back faced King. The orange stick shuffled closer to get a better look. Mirrored on either side of their shoulder expanse, were a cluster of bruises. King could picture where the elytra straps met skin and winced in sympathy at the force it must have taken to leave these marks. 

He worked meticulously on the shoulder muscles of Purple's back, taking extra care when applying the bruise cream. When Purple signaled they were done applying the burn ointment to their chest, King started wrapping with the gauze and bandages. It was almost nostalgic in a way. Back when Gold was younger, they'd always get into wild scrapes while playing in the backyard and he'd tend to their injuries in much the same manner. Granted, Purple was a much more behaved patient, having barely moved an inch since King started. Gold on the other hand, always had the tendency to shift around when they got too antsy. 

It wasn't until Purple gave a small stuttering gasp, did King snap out of his thoughts. Purple still had their back to him but small tremors shook their chest as they hastily brought a hand to their face.

Immediately, King released his hold and backed away. "Shit- Purple. Did I hurt you? Were the bandages too tight?"

The younger stick didn't turn around. Instead they let out a wet chuckle and used the bandage on their wrist to wipe at their eyes.

"No, they're fine. Really good even," Purple replied, voice thick with emotion. They shook their head wistfully. "I just… I almost forgot how nice it feels to have someone else take care of my injuries."

Without looking, Purple grasped the end of the bandage that had been released in King's haste, and pulled it taut over their shoulder, carefully tying it off at their bicep. Sighing once more, they stood up and stretched, slightly grimacing at the pull of the bandages. Then, Purple turned and offered a hand out to King, who sat frozen in his spot.

Purple's slightly red rimmed eyes crinkled in tired amusement. "I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

King stared dumbly at the outstretched hand. A second passed, then two, then three. He blinked slowly, his gaze moving from Purple's hand to their face and back, all the while his brain tried to catch up. Without thinking, King lifted a hand and allowed Purple to pull him up.

The smile Purple gave him was warm and thoughtful, and King tightened the grip between their hands. Purple didn't seem to mind the action if the returning squeeze was anything to go by. With their free hand, they picked up the pink tote and together, they made their way to King's kitchen. 

King's kitchen was small. Wall and base cabinets lined the back wall opposite the doorway creating a countertop. It extended towards the right until it was interrupted by a 4 burner gas stove. Next to it, the countertop continued until a standard sized refrigerator capped it off about two-thirds of the way into the room. Opposite of the back wall was a sink and dishwashing machine combo and more counter space made up of base cabinets. A microwave and toaster sat on these counters. Near the end of the room was a circular wooden table with two chairs stacked off to the side by an almost full trash can. On the far wall were two doors, one an actual door that opened into the pantry and the other, an open doorway that led into another room that held the door to the backyard. Said backyard could be seen through the window that sat opposite to the table along the back wall.

A calendar hung next to the doorway that connected the kitchen to the main room and King glanced at its messy array of crossed out days as Purple led them towards the dining table. In the time it took to get from the main room to here, King had composed himself. He had never expected to see Purple cry, even if it was just a few stray tears, and he decided that he never wanted to see that again. He filed away that thought along with the comment Purple made regarding them. 

Instead, King focused on gathering the chairs from their stacked position when Purple released their hands and veered off towards the microwave. It's been a while since King had sat at this table and even longer since a second person sat at it. About 3 or 4 months into his research, King made the decision to eat his meals out in the main room instead of in here. If asked, he would say it was for practicality. By eating his meals out in the main room, King could continue his research without interruption. Though King knew the real reason was the memories that plagued him when he sat alone at the table.

Once the chairs were set, King turned back to watch Purple. Said stick figure had placed their tote on the countertop and had pulled a medium sized plastic container from it. Popping off its lid, Purple placed it into the microwave and shut the door. The mechanical whrrrr of the machine filled the kitchen air.

"So the thing you brought," King said, catching Purple's attention. "What kind of plates do you need?"

Purple glanced at King before turning back towards the microwave. "Bowls. Oh and spoons if you got any."

King nodded and moved towards one of his upper cabinets. As he passed by his sink he cringed at the sight of it half filled with unwashed dishes. Opening the cabinet doors, he let out a sigh of relief as he spotted two clean bowls sitting stacked on the shelf. With the bowls in one hand, King used his other hand to pull open the top drawer of the base cabinet to retrieve two spoons. He placed those spoons in the bowls and briefly nodded again at Purple as he made his way back to the table. Once there, he separated the bowls and spoons out on the table and sat down.

When the microwave dinged, Purple carefully gathered the now warmed container and carried it to the table. With a spoon, they scooped out what looked to be a type of rice porridge with bits of shredded chicken out into the bowls. After filling one, they handed it off to King and poured the rest into their own.

King narrowed his eyes. While his bowl was nearly full to the top, Purple's was only about a fourth of the way filled. Silently, King pushed his bowl back towards Purple and shot them a disapproving look. The younger stick pursed their lips, face scrunching in annoyance.

Purple's mouth opened to say something, no doubt to try and justify the discrepancy but it shut at King's expectant expression. The orange stick figure pushed his bowl further across the table till it rested next to Purple's. They stared incredulously, gaze going from the bowls to King and back. In return, King just raised an eyebrow and nodded. 

After a moment, Purple let out an indignant huff and picked up King's bowl. With their spoon, they scooped bits of food into their own bowl until they were both even. They set King's bowl back down on the table and shot him a look.

"There, are you happy now?" Purple said, exasperated. 

"Very," King replied, cheerfully retrieving his bowl while Purple huffed again and sat down.

Plucking his spoon from the table, King mixed his bowl's contents. The food within was an off-white color and had a consistency a bit like thick soup. It looked similar to oatmeal but instead of oats and berries, it was made out of rice and chicken. King swirled the food one more time, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Purple was watching him, and spooned the rice porridge into his mouth.

A burst of flavor hit his tongue. The rice porridge was salty and savory, with ginger, garlic, and lemon accenting the chicken taste. Maybe it was the fact that he'd never tasted this before or maybe it was because he was already starving, but regardless, it was delicious. King's eyes widened before diving in for more.

He was only a few bites in when a muffled chuckle interrupted his flow. With a spoon raised midway to his mouth, King blinked and shot a look in the direction of the sound. Purple had a hand up to their mouth, obviously hiding their amused grin. 

Heat rushed to King's face in embarrassment. He had completely forgotten that Purple was sitting across the table. They probably thought he was an absolute pig. Hesitantly, King weathered a glance at Purple and was surprised to find the younger stick didn't look disgusted by him at all. In fact, they were staring at him with a soft expression.

A second passed, then two, then three, before King faked a cough into his fist, drawing Purple out of their thoughts.

"It's, uh, it's really good," King stammered awkwardly, holding up the bowl like he was raising a toast. Purple blinked before their face broke out into a bright smile.

"Then let's eat!" They said as they lifted their own bowl and clinked it against his.

King couldn't help but smile in return. He nodded and the two of them enjoyed their meal in a comfortable silence.

= O = o =

[sammy8d257]

In the Week that Follows - an AvM Fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

[Ao3 Link]

Summary: When King woke up to a pile of neatly folded blankets and pillows but no purple stick figure in sight, he tried not to feel disappointed. It made sense. Of course Purple wouldn't want anything to do with him. Aside from the week they spent preparing to capture those desktop stick figures, they were practically strangers. More than that, Purple was a stranger that King nearly killed because of his own blind anger. One hug wasn't going to change getting disintegrated. Yes, King decided with a sigh. Purple would be better off staying away.

Two hours later, the doorbell rang and King opened the door to see Purple carrying a tote bag full of cleaning supplies.

A.k.a. King and Purple spend the week after AvM 30, cleaning King's house.

= O = o =

Here we go! The thing I've been on and off working on since like December!

This fanfic was originally going to be oneshot but then uh- Now it's going to be 9 chapters long. Things happen, yah know?

alskdjlgjsdgs

[sammy8d257]

After getting invited to King Purple’s castle in the End, Green thought his day was going good. And then he got knocked upside the head by a weird looking Enderman and his day got worse.

-( | )-

[OUTDATED Tumblr Ver.] || [NEW Ao3 Ver.]

[AvM Mad King AU Masterpost]

Round 2, electric boogaloo

Next up on the chopping block for written work being added to Ao3 is "For What It's Worth"

This one is special because it's the first time I've ever written from Green's perspective, so I hope I did well!

ALSO! If you noticed with the links, the Tumblr version says "Outdated". This is because this fanfic was originally written before the ending of AvM season 3. For the Ao3 version, I updated so small bits of the story to have it better fit with the updated canon of the Mad King AU!

The main story is still the same but there are just some smaller details that make reference to the existence of Interspace

Anyway, enjoy this while I try to progress in my other fanfic alskdljgsg

[sammy8d257]

Bed - AvA Sticktober Day 9

Part of the AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series:

A Melted Marshmallow side story

Written by Sammy8D257

Word Count: 890

CW: None, although King is going through it rn

Summary: How King's bed ends up outside his room.

(This takes place a few months after Gold gets disintegrated into Minecraft.)

[AVA STICKTOBER 2023 LIST]

[Ao3 Version]

= O =

It's not until he sees it out in the main room, that King realizes what he's done.

If he thinks hard enough, he can see the thought process leading up to this decision.

It starts like this.

King had just sold his couch. It was an old thing, well worn through years of use, but it was still soft and incredibly comfortable. He got a pretty penny off of it too.

So he sold it. He needed the money. Books and supplies and gathered pieces of metal weren't going to buy themselves. And he wasn't going to dip into the fund he saved for his kid's future. 

(Not yet. Doing so felt like betrayal. Or acceptance. Either way, it was not something he was willing to deal with. He wasn't that desperate. Not yet.)

So he sold the couch. It felt like the most logical next step. 

He didn't really need it. He spent most of his time on his feet, hunched over his desk or walking around the increasingly cluttered room. The only time he'd even use it was when one too many nights of sleep were skipped and he'd end up face first into its cushions. He never means to land there, his room being his goal but sleep is sleep, so who is he to complain when he finally gets it.

(Doesn't matter that he wakes up feeling worse than before. Doesn't matter that his shoulders ache and his head pounds. Doesn't matter that a voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him to stop, to actually get some rest, to eat, to grieve. Doesn't matter, because he has work to do.)

So he sells it. And the stick who comes to pick it up thankfully does not comment on the state of the rest of his house. They're young, younger than him but older than they would have been. They look like they have their whole life ahead of them.

They smile at him, thank him for the couch, and with the help of two friends, carry it out the door. King almost feels bad for overcharging them. But he needs the money and really, it's their own fault for buying it without considering the price tag. Oh well, he hopes they enjoy it.

So the couch is sold. What was once there, now stands a plain wall.

He won't admit it bothers him. Like an itch that persists at the back of his mind. It's one more thing gone from his life but that doesn't make sense. It was just a couch.

Life continues on as normal until another bout of sleepless nights hits and instead of soft cushions, his face meets hard wooden floors.

He sleeps there anyways, too tired to complain. Until morning comes and he wakes up stiff as the floor beneath him and he vows to never do that again.

He does it two more times in the coming weeks.

On the third time, he manages to catch himself on the wall. Through the haze of exhaustion his mind comes up with a solution for his problem.

He wouldn't need to sleep on the floor if he had his bed out here.

And with a sudden burst of manic energy, he stumbles into the hallway. Blindly reaching towards his door and ignoring the one situated right next to his.

King had always been strong, blessed by his original game creator with the power to rule a kingdom, so it's no issue as he lifts and pulls and drags his bed from the middle of his room out into the hall.

Why he didn't just go to sleep in the bed itself is a question that crosses his mind in the future, but that is of no concern to him at the moment. 

He loses pillows and blankets along the way, and he's pretty sure his door has scraps etched into its frame, but he finally gets it into the main room.

With one final shove, his bed is against the wall.

And King grins, nods his head as if satisfied with his work, and then promptly passes out next to the bed. 

He wakes up the next day with a killer headache and an empty stomach, so it takes him until lunch to realize his bed is now outside his bedroom and is situated where his couch used to be.

It takes him a minute to process the change. He glances into the hallway to see the carnage of bedding left in his sleep deprived mania. He cringes and reluctantly picks up the pieces and deposits them back on his bed. 

In all honesty, he doesn't know why he did this but it would be too much of a hassle to put it back and he is much too busy to find the time to do it. So the bed stays in its new spot up against the wall.

It isn't until another round of sleepless nights hits and King wakes up on his mattress feeling marginally better than he did before, that he decides this was one of the best decisions he made in a while. One problem solved.

And then he doesn't think about it anymore. 

Not until a certain purple stick figure comes barreling into his life with a large pink tote bag in hand.

= O =

[sammy8d257]

In the Week that Follows - Chap. 1: Day 0 - The Night After

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 4164 Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them) CW for this Chapter: Implied Minor Character Death (King’s Child), Implied Child Abuse (from Purple’s past), Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Poor Mental Health, Self-Hatred

Chapter Summary: After the events of AvM 30, King and Purple make their way back to King's house.

[AO3 Version]

= O = o =

Day 0 - The Night After 

At some point during the walk back to the Bastion, Purple stumbled and on instinct, King reached an arm out to steady them. It was an involuntary action, one that some would say was due to King's history of taking care of a rambunctious child. And at some point, the adrenaline dulling the pain in King's back petered out and without having to ask, Purple snaked an arm around his midsection to help ease the strain. They did it with wordless precision and if one were to guess, they'd say they've done it before. But here in the boiling heat of the Nether, these gestures were only for the two of them.

So the arms stayed, wrapped around a shoulder and waist as they both leaned on each other for support. A secret shared between them. And through the crimson forest, through the Bastion, through the Nether portal, and through the tunnel within King's basement, they walked in silence.  Both simply content with the other's presence.

It wasn't until they neared the ladder to the main floor hatch, was the blanket of quiet broken.

All at once, they could feel the weight of the comforting touch and they shuffled awkwardly out of each other's grasp. The anxiety of overstepping an unspoken boundary overrode any lingering desire of keeping close. Neither of them were willing to acknowledge the creeping cold that accompanied their sore muscles at the loss of touch.

King coughed and opened his mouth to speak, only to find his voice stuck with dust and exhaustion. He closed it sheepishly, an embarrassed look gracing his face as he gestured to the ladder, hoping his… companion? Acquaintance? Purple. Purple would understand what he was trying to say. The shorter stick figure stared at him for a moment before shaking their head in a wordless chuckle. King couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped his mouth as Purple shifted their gaze forward.

The ladder stood tall against the cold brown of the carved out tunnel walls. The pale blue light cast down from the trapdoor above mixed with the warm tones of the torches. For a moment, King was surprised by the sight of them. These torches were burning for a lot longer than he expected. 

Dimly, he remembered summoning them during Purple's first day of work. He added them to help illuminate the tunnels since even though he was used to navigating them in limited light, Purple had no such experience. The younger stick would have no doubt tripped and fallen if not for the light. He had even gotten rid of various obstacles that could have hindered them as they traveled through the tunnels. 

The last thing I need is an injured helper. It would only hinder my plan. He reasoned not so long ago. King grimaced at his past self. Had he really gotten so callous that he only cared about others if they were useful?  One glance at the bruised stick figure at his side told him his answer. 

The sounds of shuffling feet across the dusty floor snapped King out of his musings. Purple was standing underneath the ladder, poised to start climbing. But they were glancing back at him. Though their eyes were slightly clouded with exhaustion, there was something sharp in their gaze. They were watching, examining him as if they were searching for something.

King blinked, unsure what to do. He felt pinned under the younger stick's stare. Did they want something from him? Were they waiting for him to say something? He swallowed thickly, hoping it would help clear his throat.

A second passed. Then two, then three, and then eventually, Purple averted their eyes, instead turning them upwards towards the exit. And then King watched as they hobbled up the rungs with all the grace of a broken winged bird.

From the few days King got to know Purple, he knew how prideful the stick figure could be. When doing something, anything, they always tried to prove they could do it on their own. So he refused to voice his concern when Purple misplaced a foot and hung slightly off the ladder. He bit back a remark as he heard Purple mumble a swear under their breath. And if asked, he would deny shifting his body closer to the ladder as Purple readjusted themself and continued upwards. 

Only when Purple hoisted themself over the top of the ladder and onto the main floor did he let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. He could hear them shuffle around up there, no doubt finding a place to rest their weary muscles. Where exactly, given the mess that was left behind, King didn't know. There wasn't much open space left on the floor that wasn't covered in books and scrapes of past failures. Eventually, the noises stopped and King was left staring up at the hole.

King didn't know how long he stood at the bottom of the ladder. He half expected Purple to poke their head down and ask what was taking so long. He could imagine a smile, fond and understanding, on the younger's face as he cracked a joke about "enjoying the dusty walls of the tunnel". But Purple never glanced down the hole and King was left staring at the empty opening. 

He sucked in a breath. Cursors, he was so tired. How pathetic had he gotten that he was starting to imagine a friendship between him and a person he barely knew. King raked a hand across his face, wincing at the tender flesh of his left cheek. The light from the torches were starting to irritate his eyes. He had to leave this place. But… King glanced back up at the ladder.

Just the thought of climbing made his already sore muscles throb in agony. King would be lying if he didn't contemplate just sitting down on the floor and going to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. Memories of one too many sleepless nights spent down in this tunnel passed briefly through his mind. If not for the fact that Purple was still up on the first floor waiting for him, he might have given in to that urge. Instead, the weary stick sighed and placed his foot on the first rungs of the ladder.

Immediately, he regretted it. The pain in his back flared and he could feel his joints creak in protest. Everything about his body was telling him to stop, go back down the ladder and rest. In the morning he could try again, but the thought of Purple, beaten and bruised and up there all alone in his house, kept King going. 

Step after step. Rung after rung. King hoisted himself upwards with all the vigor of a washed up rag. Why oh why, did he build a ladder and not a staircase? Did he really just climb this thing day after day without any care for his knees? For his back? Did he hate himself that much?  King pointedly ignored the answer the voice in the back of his head gave.

About 3/4th the way up the ladder, the panting stick figure paused and rested his head against a rung. He swore under his breath that next time, he was going to rip this ladder out of the wall and replace it with stairs.

Wait, next time? King thought. 

He frowned. Next time… next time he comes down here, he's destroying this place. Every single thing, the portal, the parkour course, the room and the tunnel, it was getting torn down. And then he was going to tear the trap door off its hinges and replace his flooring. No point in thinking about replacing the ladder with stairs if it's going to be covered in dirt. Months of relentless work, all to be destroyed in one afternoon, and King couldn't bring himself to care. 

As soon as he could, he wanted to burn this entire event from memory.  But to do that, he needed to reach the top first. So with a groan, he kept climbing.

King huffed as he finally heaved his body over the edge of the opening. Closing his eyes, he savored the feeling of the wooden floor against his back. If given the choice, he would have been content to just lie here and never get up. But after a minute of deep breathing, King could feel a pair of eyes staring at him. 

Ah, that's right. Purple was still here. King cracked an eye open and squinted over to the younger stick. Purple was sitting on a pile of books at the end of his table. They were leaned snugly into the corner where the desk met the wall with their body facing towards the trap door. 

Suddenly self-conscious under their gaze, King slowly picked himself up into a sitting position. Purple blinked, seemingly startled by King's movement and shifted their eyes to look at the wall to the right instead. The orange stick figure followed their gaze and cringed. The writing on the wall looked more like the scrawlings of a mad man than the research he originally intended it to be.

King turned away, choosing instead to focus on the stick figure currently in his house. A part of him was surprised. He half expected his house to be empty by the time he finished climbing, but Purple stayed. They had no reason to, especially after everything King put them through, and yet…

"Thank you for waiting for me," King said slowly, his voice still rough. "You didn't have to but… I appreciate it."

Purple hummed, gaze returning back to King. In response, King dropped his own gaze to look at the now closed, trap door hatch.

King cleared his throat. "I'll be alright now. I can handle it from here. So..."

He cringed. When did he get so awkward? Just last week he was bossing around this same stick figure without a second thought but now he's stumbling over his words like a fool. How pathetic could he get?

"I guess, this is goodbye?" He didn't mean for his words to come out as a question but the usual control over his voice was starting to slip from exhaustion. "Will you be safe getting home?"

Purple shook their head. "Oh, I'm not leaving."

"You're not, wha- What?" King's eyes snapped up to stare at Purple. "Why…?"

The purple stick shook their head again and gestured to the window above the desk. Moonlight filtered softly through glass panes.

"King, it's dark out. I got beat up and disintegrated into a beam of light. I'm tired." Purple dropped their hand back to their lap. "There's no way I'm making it back to my apartment like this."

"Ah… Right. Make yourself at… home?" King winced. 

He didn't know what else to say. For some reason, Purple's tone had reminded him of a tired parent lecturing a child. It was a voice that King himself had often used back when Gold would stay up past their bedtime to read history books. However, with Purple, it sounded especially resigned and expressed with a practiced ease.

He didn't like it. He didn't like how Purple's voice made his throat close in guilt. As if he were the child being lectured by a parent who knew far, far more than him.

As if he were ignorant.

He grimaced, face sour and shoulders hunched. This isn't normal. This isn't how King would usually handle situations like this. Why is he floundering? Is it because he's delirious from pain and lack of sleep? He should say something, anything! Just whatever to stop the tension that was building up inside him. But just as he was about to open his mouth, Purple spoke again.

"... You know, I never said this earlier because you were my boss," Their voice had changed, adopting a more relaxed and casual tone. "But your place sucks. It's a mess."

The look of shock on King's face must have been funny because as soon as the comment registered, Purple started laughing. Their laugh was airy, somewhat strained with the smile not quite reaching their eyes but it made the tension drain out of King all the same. 

"I- Are you seriously insulting my house right now?" He asked incredulously.

Sure his house wasn't clean by any stretch of the imagination. And King could admit that it was a mess. But it could be worse. And it most certainly didn't suck. Whatever previous emotions King had were instantly replaced by the feeling of disbelief at the sheer audacity of Purple's statement. (Looking back on this moment, King wondered if that was the goal.) 

He sat up a little straighter, his right arm gesturing for emphasis. "If you don't like it here so much, you could just leave!"

"I could, but," Purple sent, what he could only describe as a purposefully annoying grin his way. The moonlight shadowed their face, giving it an extra cheeky feel. "Once again, I'm tired and beat up and that's partially your fault…" King's eye twitched. "...so you kinda owe me at least one night's rest."

He sucked in a slow breath. King should be feeling guilty. He knows he should be. And to some extent he did feel bad but it was mostly overshadowed by the irritated feeling he got every time he looked at Purple's smug grin. They never acted like this when they were working under him. In fact, Purple never tried to be anything but perfectly obedient while working with him. How was it possible these two versions were the same stick?

King groaned and pushed himself up into a standing position. 

"I liked it better when you didn't talk back."

He could feel another stress headache forming. Cursors he wanted to go to sleep.

Purple paused to stare up at him as he approached. An unknown emotion flitted across their face before it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement.

"Then you'll love it when I'm asleep." They joked, accepting King's outstretched arm as support. Carefully, Purple rose to their feet. "Speaking of, where do you want me to sleep?"

"... Huh?"

King's brain stuttered to a halt. All this time, they were talking about Purple staying over for the night. And yet, never once did the thought of "this is actually happening" sink in. 

Until now. 

Where was Purple going to sleep?

"Where do you want me to sleep?" Purple repeated. "Like, do you have an extra bed I could sleep in?"

King stared at them, eyes furrowed in thought. There were only two beds in this house. His bed and…

"What about a couch? A recliner? A mat?"

His couch was one of the first things that were sold in an effort to fund his research. The only other furniture were the wooden chairs stacked in the kitchen. And King never had any use for sleeping mats. There was an old sleeping bag at the back of the closet, though that might be too small for them to use since it's child-sized… 

"C'mon, you've got to have something."

Something… something… something to sleep on… what else was there? He didn't have anything other than his bed and bed in Gold's room. And he wasn't about to offer that. But Purple needed a place to sleep. Therefore, the only solution was…

"I guess you can use-"

"I'm not taking your bed."

King blinked. The hard, almost venomous tone Purple used to cut him off had him snapping out of his thoughts in surprise. He had never heard them sound so angry before. Purple, themself, looked almost as shocked as he did. For a brief second a look of panic flashed across their eyes as the two stick figures stared at each other, before it was smoothed over with a flustered apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," Purple said, head bowed slightly. They let go of King's arm and took a few steps back, using the desk behind them instead for support. "It's just… I could never take your bed. Not when you obviously need it too. And if I took it, then where would you sleep? It would just be rude of me to make you give up your own bed and…"

They continued to ramble as King stared at them. The shadows cast from the window partially obscured their expression making it even harder to get a read on them. To be honest, he didn't know how to respond to this. This past hour alone had shown him numerous different sides of this younger stick figure that he didn't know they had. And he did not have the mental capacity at the moment to unpack it all.

Purple paused and sucked in a sharp breath. Releasing it slowly, they spoke again, their voice neutral. "Look, I'll just… sleep on the floor alright? I've done it before. Multiple times actually."

That last part, Purple mumbled under their breath. King frowned, not understanding why that statement made him upset but he still felt bothered all the same. "All I need are a couple of pillows and blankets. Do you have any extra?" They continued.

King observed them for a second, then two, then three. Although their posture was neutral, almost nonchalant against the desk, he could see a tension in them. Almost like they were seconds away from running if King so much as moved too fast around them. This wasn't right. Something was off but his exhausted mind refused to make any connections.

Maybe they're just as tired as he was. King rationalized. 

"Yeah… I have some extra," King finally answered. "I'll go grab them."

And as he turned, he pretended not to see the way Purple physically relaxed into the desk as he made his way into the hallway.

= O = o =

"Here." 

King handed the bundle of spare blankets and pillows into Purple's arms.

During the time King spent gathering the items, Purple had moved from the desk by the window to the dresser that stood along the wall opposite to his bed. The floor to the right of it had been cleared of any books or papers that usually sat there. The space was big enough for one stick figure to lie down. And by the time King returned, they also seemed to calm down. Whatever nervous energy they had was gone and in its place was an air of neutral gratitude. 

At least they didn't look scared anymore. King mused.

With the bundle securely deposited, King turned towards his own bed. The toil of the past few hours had well and truly started hitting him. His trek towards the linen closet at the end of the moonlit hallway had drained him and more than anything, he just wanted to sleep.

"Medieval themed?" King heard Purple ask from behind him.

Medieval themed? King slowly turned around and sure enough, kneeling on the floor Purple had unfurled a comforter. In the moonlight, the image of a knight fighting a dragon with a castle in the background stretched across the fabric.

King sucked in a breath. He didn't mean to grab that. He didn't even know it was still in that closet. It should have been with the rest of the stuff behind the closed door down the hall. But in his hurry and in the darkness of the hallway, he didn't even notice what he grabbed. King was just on auto-pilot at that point, his only thought was grabbing two pillows and three blankets. He should have paid attention to what he took.

Purple chuckled, lowering the thick blanket back down to their lap. "Very on brand, huh?"

"They aren't mine."

Purple looked up at him in confusion. "What-"

"Purple," King cut them off. He was tired and upset. He tried to keep it out of his voice but if the way Purple flinched was anything to go by, he didn't do a good job. "Just… finish up what you're doing then go to sleep. I'm going to bed."

The two stick figures stared at each other. The light of the moon casting long shadows across the room. That searching look was back in Purple's eyes but the stress of the day had worn King down to the point where he simply didn't care what the younger stick wanted from him. The only thing he wanted was to close his eyes and let the world disappear for the next few hours. 

One second passed, then two, then three, until Purple sighed and lowered their gaze.

"Okay." 

And then they turned and continued organizing the blankets on the floor into a comfortable arrangement. King watched them for a little while longer, eventually moving to sit at the edge of his bed when the strain in his back got too painful. He made a mental note to take a painkiller when he woke up the next day.

Purple paused their shuffling at the movement but didn't turn around. After a moment, they continued creating their bed until a dark little pile of blankets and pillows was formed. And with that, Purple laid down and pulled the covers over their head.

At least it looks comfy. King thought. Or probably comfy. Who knows.

It was hard to see thanks to the shadows from the window and King's blurry exhausted vision. But he could still see the rise and fall of the blanket, indicating that Purple was heading to sleep soon. Just like King should be. 

One second passed, then two, then three. King stared at Purple's slumbering form, feeling his own pulse slow and his eyelids grow heavy with each passing breath. 

He was so tired. 

With a groan, he lowered himself down on his mattress.

And finally, closed his eyes.

= o =

One… Two… One… Two…

Purple counted the seconds between each of King's breaths as they faced the wall. 

One… Two… One… Two… One… Two… Three…

They didn't know how they felt about King yet.

One… Two…

King was like him. He was ruthless and driven and packed one hell of a punch. The week spent working under him felt almost nostalgic but the past few hours had shown them a different side. Despite everything that happened, he still came back for them. He was different from him. 

One… Two… Three… One… Two…

King was like her. He was hurting. Not just physically but mentally. They knew the signs. The messy house, the awkward small talk, the secrets hidden behind anxious eyes. She was like that too, at the beginning. 

One… Two… One… Two… Three… One… Two… Three…

King was like them. Grief was something they were all too familiar with. They didn't know what exactly happened but if they had to guess, it was related to the blankets currently around them and that framed photo on the nightstand.

One… Two… Three… Four… One… Two… Three…

So similar but so different. King was like him, and her, and them, but still his own. They just didn't know how to act around him yet. Everything they've tried so far has led to King being awkward, King getting annoyed, or King getting angry. Even so…

One… Two… Three… 

They still wanted to help him.

One… Two… Three… Four… One… Two… Three… Four…

Purple counted the seconds between each breath. When the count evened, they quietly flipped over to face the sleeping figure. The orange stick's face was less tense and the muscles, no doubt still sore, were relaxed. They could see the beginnings of a dark bruise forming on his left cheek.

One… Two… Three… Four…

Purple was good at helping. They were good at taking care of others. They knew this about themself.

One… Two… Three… Four… Five…

And King would need their help dealing with the aftermath of everything. They're certain he would. They might be the only person in this world that could understand and help.

One… Two… Three… Four…

So, it would only make sense for them to be there for him.

One… Two… Three… Four…

With a newfound sense of purpose, Purple carefully rolled the covers back over their head. They glanced down at the cracked screen of their phone, pleasantly surprised it still worked after everything. They hoped the blankets blocked enough screen light. It had been a while since they had to pull a move like this.

One… Two… Three…

1:48 am. That left about 5 hours before the first bus arrived at its routine stop, 10 minutes down the road. Purple chewed at the side of their cheek. They've done more on less time.

One… Two… Three… One… Two… Three…

With a nod, they clicked their phone off, wanting to save what little battery was left of it. They glanced once more at King before turning to face the ceiling, their mind buzzing with things they needed for tomorrow.

One… Two… Three… Four...

There was a lot to prepare.

One… Two… Three… Four…

[sammy8d257]

It takes 8 minutes for water to boil.

-( | )-

[Tumblr Ver.] || [Ao3 Ver.]

[AvM Mad King AU Masterpost]

AYO

The Mad King AU's coming to Ao3!

So in celebration, each of the written pieces I made for the Mad King AU that I've already posted to Tumblr, will be getting cover art!

First being posted to Ao3 is "8 Minutes"

You can find the link to the Ao3 version above!

[sammy8d257]

(re-asking because i think the old one was deleted?)

okay so i might have kidnapped mk!purple and turned them into a dragon

they bit my finger off, i don’t want them anymore

*dragon-mk!purple has challenged you to a staring contest*

Hi Fantarules! Your first ask wasn't deleted, I just wasn't able to get around to answering it because,

Well, I wanted to do this for it.

I hope you enjoy it >8)c

-( | )-

Cries of the Changed An AvM Mad King Au ficlet

Written by Sammy8D257 Inspired by @fantarules677 's Dragon MK!Purple art

Word Count: 703

CW: Descriptions of painful transformations, Human/Stick turned Animal, Body Horror, Wish for death (in response to pain), Hurt No Comfort

Summary: Purple has been feeling off for a long time. (Not canon to the main AU. Think of this as more of an AU of an AU)

[AvM Mad King AU Masterpost]

-( | )-

Purple has been feeling… off, for a long time.

Not like a headache off, though at the beginning it did feel that way, but an off that seeps into one's very core. An off that feels like something is squirming just below the surface. A writhing, slow, crawl too deep to scratch out.

Purple has been feeling this way for a long time.

They don't remember when it started. 

Was it when the pain behind their eyes doubled, tripled, in intensity before fading into a dull but persistent throb? Was it when their nails grew and sharpened into razor? Not claws. Never claws. Purple was a stick figure and stick figures had rounded hands and nails. Was it when their back tensed one day and never relaxed? They were never one to workout but they could swear layers of muscle were forming underneath their elytra straps. 

Was it when Purple no longer had to look up to talk to King MT? They were not yet as tall as the former king, their eyes level to his mouth, but height never mattered when the other was already cowering at their feet.

Or maybe it was when, after months of peace and established normalcy, one voice in a sea of thousands whispered so sweetly into the empty air of the void;

╎'ᒲ ʖ𝙹∷ᒷ↸

At the end of the day, it does not matter.

Purple does not know when it started.

But they do know it will not end well. 

Not for them. Never for them.

So here Purple stands, at the edge of an incomplete bridge. The Endermen had not yet finished connecting one tower to the other, the yellow end stone several feet below them. It didn't matter. Purple wanted to come out here to check on the progress. 

Something, anything, to feel normal.

Their stomach felt twisted, a pain worse than their inability to keep down regular food. Their muscles burned, it twitched underneath skin in unnatural ways. Their entire head ached, from their jaws to their teeth to their eyes to everything inside their skull. The dull throb now a war drum in their ears.

So here Purple stands, the spitting image of misery. 

And here Purple falls, their mind so distracted by pain that they don't notice when they start to tip.

And here Purple lands, a sickening cRACK on the cold stone below. 

Before the shock can even register, like a chain reaction, their body twists and convulses.

Skin rips, muscles tear, bones snap. The scream that bubbles to their lips does get to form before their jaw is cracked and broken.

It's agony. They're on fire. They're dying.

They're getting bigger. Dimly through their pain blurred mind, there's a horrible realization they're changing.

And it's agony.

Their muscles are reconnecting, their skin is sewing back together, their bones are reforming.

Purple does not know when it will end. They hope it's soon.

They hope they're dead by the end. But they know they won't be.

How cruel.

. . . 

. .

.

ᔑ ↸∷ᔑ⊣𝙹リ?

∴ᒷ ᔑ⊣∷ᒷᒷ↸ 𝙹リ ᔑリ ᒷリ↸ᒷ∷ᒲᔑリ

ʖ⚍ℸ ̣  ↸∷ᔑ⊣𝙹リᓭ ᔑ∷ᒷ ᒲ⚍ᓵ⍑ ᒲ𝙹∷ᒷ ╎リℸ ̣ ᒷ∷ᒷᓭℸ ̣ ╎リ⊣

ᔑꖎ∷╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣  ꖎᒷℸ ̣  ⚍ᓭ ᓭᒷᒷ ⍑𝙹∴ ℸ ̣ ⍑╎ᓭ !¡ꖎᔑ||ᓭ 𝙹⚍ℸ ̣

.

. .

. . .

Time passes. It must have.

Purple lifts their head out of a puddle of spit, blood, and an unidentifiable black oil.

Everything still hurts but their mind is clearer than it's been in a long time.

Their head feels heavy. Their entire body feels heavy. 

Wearily, they lift a hand to their face and is greeted with a sharp pain on their cheek. 

A confused growl erupts from their throat. Eyes wide, they stare down at their hand.

Not a hand. A claw.

A claw with sharpened black talons and familiar purple scales. 

They whip around, their head heavy with a muzzle. Their back heavy with wings. Their hips heavy with a tail.

A shock of purple in the spit and blood and black oil puddle draws their attention.

With their head bowed low, Purple stares at the reflection in the shiny liquid.

Their reflection.

And they roar, high pitched, scared, and mourning.

-( | )-

Miles away, resting on an obsidian pillar, the Ender Dragon lifts her head and echos the call.

[sammy8d257]

The First Meeting - AvA Mafia AU!

An AvA Mafia AU! Oneshot

AU created by @sammy8d257 and @k1ttyadventurer

Written by Sammy8D

Word Count: 2185

Characters: Chosen (He/Him), Yellow (They/Them), Dark (He/They), Second (Any Pronouns), Green (He/They), Red (He/Him), Blue (They/She/He), Victim (Any Pronouns)

CWs: Blackmail, Mentions of violence

Summary: When Noogai passed down the family business to him, Chosen knew it would be tough, he knew there would be surprises. Hell, they’ve already had their fair share of them when the supposed “first victim” of the gang’s dealings, turned out to be more useful alive than dead. Now that stick figure, affectionately nicknamed, “Victim”, was one of the most valuable members of the "Noogai Family". And yet, despite that, despite Chosen’s willingness to adapt to anything, despite Chosen literally being created to fulfill this role, he was not prepared to deal with these four very persistent stick figures.

[ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: May, 2021]

<= v =>

Chosen pinched the bridge of his forehead. When Noogai passed down the family business to him, Chosen knew it would be tough, he knew there would be surprises. Hell, they’ve already had their fair share of them when the supposed “first victim” of the gang’s dealings, turned out to be more useful alive than dead. Now that stick figure, affectionately nicknamed, “Victim”, was one of the most valuable members of the Family. And yet, despite that, despite Chosen’s willingness to adapt to anything, despite Chosen literally being created to fulfill this role, he was not prepared for the situation that sat in front of him. 

So here he sits, in one of the many backrooms of the quaint little restaurant young Second hosts as a front for the group's more, illicit activities. The orange stick figure had come to him in a panicked state, trying their best to recount their run-in with one particular persuasive fellow with a laptop filled with documents that should never see the light of day. Through the rushed and jumbled words, Chosen got the jist of what had transpired and more importantly, what needed to be done. That was why four brightly colored stick figures were seated across from him, looking for a chance at something that Chosen wasn't sure he was ready to give. 

“Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t just let Dark here dispose of you.” 

As Chosen spoke those words, the bright red stick figure standing to his right side cracked his knuckles. Judging by the reactions from the group, there was no doubt that upon Dark’s face was his signature smile, the wide grin filled with sharp teeth and malicious intent. Chosen’s eyes slowly scanned across the stick figures before him. 

Seated furthest to the right was a light blue stick figure clothed in a loose dark blue jacket. A small bottle of an unknown substance hung by a silver chain around their neck. Despite the more relaxed and aloof attitude Chosen had observed when the four first arrived, he could see how sharp the blue one’s eyes were, seemingly categorizing everything within their surroundings. To the left of them sat a red stick figure, a slightly darker shade of red than his Right Hand Man, Chosen noted. He was the fighter of the group if the hand wraps along his knuckles and wrists were anything to go by. Right now, he was cracking his neck and eyeing up Dark in anticipation. There were no doubts that the stick figure was deciding whether he could square up to the infamous Dark Lord of the Noogai Family. The green stick figure next to him was reacting similarly, albeit in a much more subtle manner. Chosen watched as the green one carefully reached into his dark green vest only for a grimace to appear on his face. The stick figure was probably reaching for the gun that he gave up as both a show of respect toward the head of the gang and a sign of peace between the two parties. Chosen was rather surprised at the weaponry the green stick figure was carrying. The pistol was a pretty little number with an engraving upon its handle that he was positive couldn’t have been bought in any public stores. And lastly there was-

“I know for a fact you won’t.”

And lastly there was the source of Chosen’s current headache, the stick figure whom Second had informed him, was simply named Yellow. The most confident out of all of the stick figures in front of him, Yellow sat high in their seat with a self-assured smile upon their face. A pair of dusty yellow headphones hung loosely from the stick figure’s neck while they adjusted the glasses that sat on their face. Chosen took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, bringing his hands to rest in front of him. 

“And why might that be?” Chosen asked. Yellow leaned back in their seat and lifted one hand in the air. 

“Well, I have a timer set to release all the information I gathered on your little group out onto the internet.You’ll be ruined within minutes and only I know how to stop it.” 

“Yeah right, I cou-” Dark was interrupted as Yellow leveled their stare at him. 

“I cracked through your defenses in under 5 hours. If you so much as breathe incorrectly on the code I created, it’ll automatically release every single dirty detail the Noogai Family has been hiding. But if you’re willing to risk that, fine, go ahead and try to kill us.”

Dark snarled at the challenge. It was no secret that despite being Chosen’s Right Hand and also one of the best fighters, Dark also prided himself on being a damn good coder as well. To see his work be so quickly broken through by someone as young and as smug as Yellow, must have infuriated Dark to no end. Chosen sighed and gestured for Dark to stand down. 

Meeting the yellow stick figure’s gaze, Chosen spoke in a hard voice, “Okay, you have my attention. What is it exactly that you want from us?”

“Well! As your orange friend here may have told you, me and my buddies are looking to join your group!” Yellow said with a grin so big it nearly split their face. The other 3 nodded in agreement. With furrowed brows, Chosen let out another sigh. Right, Second had told him that this group was looking to join the gang. It wasn’t that Chosen was adverse to gaining new members, rather the opposite actually. The big boss knew that in order to gain more power in the Interspace, their gang would have to have more members than just the original four. But still, he never expected this would be how they would grow. Chosen always assumed people with prior connections to the Family would join in first, though that certainly wasn’t the case now.

“Let’s say we are looking for new members.” Chosen tilted his head to the side. “What can you bring to this group?” 

The grin on Yellow’s face seemed to get even wider. “I’m so glad you asked sir.”

Yellow placed a hand on their chest. “You’ve already seen a bit of what I can do. But basically, I can be your go-to guy for anything code related. I can get you any encrypted information you need. I’m a bit of a master hacker if you will.” 

Dark scoffed and crossed his arms.

“Green here is our weapons specialist. He’s versed in multiple types of weaponry. Whether it be a gun or a bo staff, he’ll be able to wield them all.” 

“I’m gonna need my gun back by the way,” Green said with a cocked brow. “It wasn’t easy to get and I’d appreciate it if I didn’t lose it so soon.” 

“Don’t worry,” Second spoke up for the first time since the four had arrived. “I’ll make sure to get it back to you.” Green jumped at the sudden intrusion and jerked his head towards the corner where Second was standing. The orange stick figure sent him a small wave and Green nodded once in appreciation. 

Yellow continued, “And if weapons aren’t you thing, we have our very own close combat specialist. Meet Red! He’s the powerhouse of the bunch and knows all about hand-to-hand fighting.”

Red beamed at both Yellow and Chosen at the praise. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at fighting.” Chosen nodded along with Yellow’s explanation, happy that his earlier suspicions were confirmed. 

“And lastly,” Yellow gestured to the furthest stick figure from them. “We have Blue. Don't let their quiet demeanor fool you, Blue has a mastery over poisons and knows more about the sneaking than anyone I know. If you need to take out someone quietly, Blue's definitely the one for the job." 

The stick figure in question gave Chosen a mock salute, a calm smile on their face. From the other corner, Chosen watched as Victim nodded at him, no doubt interested in the more stealthy aspects of this stick figure's skill set.

Chosen hummed, interlocking his fingers in front of his face. These four definitely had skills that could be beneficial to the Family. Especially if Red, Green, and Blue were as skilled in their areas of expertise as Yellow. They were good. Almost too good. Chosen's contemplative look turned accusatory as he leveled gaze across the group.

"What are you hoping to get out of this? From what you've told me and from what you've shown, you four seem very qualified for positions within the group." Chosen's voice was cold. "I'm finding it very hard to believe a couple of highly skilled individuals like yourselves aren't already part of another gang.” 

“So I’m going to ask you again,” The skin of Chosen’s palms glowed a dangerous red. “What are you hoping to get out of this?”

There was silence for a moment, only the hum of the ventilation filling the dead air. The four stick figures in front of him were deep in some sort of non-verbal communication, simply consulting with one another through nods and stares. In the back of Chosen’s mind, he wondered how close they were to each other that allowed them to do that. Finally, the group seemed to come to a conclusion and Yellow spoke up once more.

“You may not believe us, but we aren’t part of any other group. You guys were actually our first choice when we all decided to look into this type of business.” Yellow gestured an arm out to the rest of the sticks. “The four of us are from a web-based sticks fighting game. We were literally built to fight but after years of doing the same thing over and over again... Well, we got really bored. And then with all the extra time we had, we each decided to master skills that interested us.” 

Yellow placed a hand on their chest, their tone taking a more sincere note. “I’ve researched hundreds of other groups beforehand. Although you guys are newer and still very small, we all agreed that the way you run your business aligns the best with our group's own beliefs. You guys still do illegal things, but,” they paused to readjust their glasses. “The Noogai Family is still the best option in comparison to almost everyone else. And because of that, we’re willing to dedicate ourselves to this Family.”

The rest of the sticks nodded in agreement. Yellow themself, sunk back into their chair, seemingly winded from their speech. Bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead, Chosen also leaned back into his seat with a sigh. The silence returned once again. After a few minutes, he spoke,

“Okay. Against my better judgment, you’ve convinced me.”

There was a pause before the room erupted into cheer. Dark’s indignant shout of “WHAT-” was drowned out by the ecstatic celebration of Red, Yellow, Green and Blue. Rounds of high-fives were being given to each other along with excited hand flapping. Not wanting the celebration to get too out of hand, Chosen signaled for the four to quiet down. 

“Don’t go celebrating yet. You four have exactly one week to prove your loyalty and that you can be a reliable asset to this group. Second.” Second perked their head up at the sound of their name. “I want you to escort these fellows to a separate room and go over the rules. Also make sure to gather any necessary information from them.”

“Of course,” Second said softly. Turning towards the group, they motioned them to follow their lead. “Right this way guys.”

All four of the stick figures stood up excitedly before bowing towards Chosen.

“You won’t regret this boss!” The grin was back on Yellow’s face. Chosen sent a look toward Victim and with a nod, the dark gray stick figure followed the group out the door, shutting it softly as they went. 

And then, there was silence again. 

Chosen let out a sigh. Standing up he placed a calming hand upon a fuming Dark’s shoulder. 

“With all due respect,” Dark said through gritted teeth. “What were you THINKING letting these… these fools into OUR Family?”

“They seem very capable. I thought very hard on my decision and for now, I’m confident in it. Just trust me on this alright?” Chosen gave Dark’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Besides, we need to start growing. We won’t get anywhere if our group just stays the four of us.”

Dark snarled and shrugged Chosen’s hand off his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Chosen One.” And with that, the pissed off stick figure stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Chosen slumped back down into his seat. Closing his eyes, Chosen allowed himself to relax ever so slightly. Noogai said this wouldn’t be easy but Chosen wished he was also told just how hard it was going to be. Regardless of the outcome, he could feel that this would be a new chapter in the history of the Noogai Family.

[sammy8d257]

A Mercy - AvM Mad King AU

An AvM Mad King AU! oneshot

Written by Sammy8D257

Word Count: 1036

TW/CW: Intrusive Thoughts, Discussions of Death and Murder but no acted upon violence, Manipulation, Angst no Comfort, Repeating Phrases

(This is a somewhat Dead Doves fic. MT thinks about ways to kill Purple. That’s the fic. Please read the CW tags! If you need me to tag or add anymore Trigger or Content Warnings, Please let me know!)

Summary: On a routine trip to the castle in the End, MT contemplates murder.

[AvM Mad King Au Masterpost]

= ( | ) =

It would be so easy.

It was a thought that Mango, King, MT had often. It dug into his mind like a weed. It crawled through his thoughts like an infection. 

It would be so easy.

There were so many opportunities. When they're asleep, when they're back is turned, when it's just him and them. All alone. Do they think they could really stop him?

It would be so easy.

They're sitting across from him, eyes half lidded and unfocused, staring at nothing but the inky void. The sounds of the flying machine chugging beneath them filling the silence. Only pieces of piston, slime, and honey form the barrier keeping them from the neverending black.

It would be so easy.

They think him docile, subdued and compliant, but he is not broken. How foolish they are to think he would just roll over and submit. When a dog is cornered, do they expect it to give in without a fight? What is a dog without its gnashing teeth and ripping claws?

It would be so easy.

They wouldn't see it coming. Not when their eyes are closed. Not when it's just them and him, all alone in this little pocket of space.  One step, one lunge, his arms outstretched, and their neck between firm hands.

It would be so easy.

Where would they respawn? Back at the Castle? Which one? When the light leaves their eyes, would they wake up in their bed? And what if he destroyed their bed beforehand? Where would they respawn? Back on the desktop? Back in Interspace? Back near that cliff he found them on all those years ago? Or maybe…

It would be so easy.

He could do it. He could do it right now. He should do it, bed destroyed or not.  How many chances does he have like this?  He could do it. One step.  He could do it. One lunge. He should do it. His arms outstretched. He should do it. His hands around their neck. Do it. Do it. DO IT.

It would be so easy.

But MT never does.  And he doesn't know why. 

It should be so easy.

They're there. They're right there.  He could do it. He should do it. Hands around the neck. It'd be easy.

It should be so easy.

So why, why can't he? He hates them. He knows he does. And he knows they hate him too.

It should be so easy.

It's not fair. It's not fair! Why? Why can't he do it? How many times, how many times has he tried?

It should be so easy.

The two of them, alone. Their back is turned or they're distracted or they've just laid down to sleep in cursor knows how long. And he's there. His hands raised to push or his hands ready to grab or his hands holding a pillow just above their face. And he's going to do it.

It should be so easy.

And he can't.  They turn around or they walk away or they mumble something in their sleep and slowly, so slowly, their eyes open to stare up at him. Their eyes are hazy from sleep but it's them. That horrible green barely present in those large trusting eyes and they smile at him and wish him a slurred good night and fall back asleep as if there wasn't years of resentment and hate and pain built between them. As if they were back at the start, before the egg, before the crown, before they entered this accursed game. As if it was just the two of them, back on that cliff. As if they were still friends.

It should be so easy.

But he can't.  So he drops the pillow and stumbles back. And he runs. And he finds a space away from everything. And he cries and screams and for the next few hours while they're still asleep, he mourns and wonders how everything went so wrong.

It should be so easy.

And then the sun comes up and the day is new. They wake up and he stands by their side, awaiting orders. And they both hate each other and everything is normal.

A giggle echoes across from him.

MT sits up straight, jolting from his thoughts. He can't do it. He won't do it. Because he is afraid. Afraid of the thing wearing Purple's face. Afraid of what might happen if Purple is gone but it's still here.

It watches him and it laughs.

He hates it. He hates the way it smiles. He hates the way it laughs. He hates the way it spreads poison across purple irises.

It smiles and delights in his misery.

He knows it does. And he wants to scream at it. Shout at it until his voice is sore and gone. He wants it to leave. He wants it to leave him alone. He wants it to leave them alone.

It laughs and knows he won't.

And he knows it's right. He is a coward but he is not a fool. He knows this game and he knows the consequences. So he sits in fear and holds his tongue.

Its grin stretches wider in satisfaction.

And then he blinks and finds Purple with their eyes shut, rubbing small circles into their temple. MT releases a breath when they finally notice his presence and glare at him. The green had retreated back to surround a blackened pupil. They snarl at him and bare their teeth. A threat no doubt forming and he looks away as it spills from their lips. But it's them and that's all he could ask for. They hate each other and everything is normal.

But even as the familiar feelings of resentment replace the fear, a new old feeling reemerges. He doesn't know what it is but it aches in his chest as he watches what used to be someone he's known for years, complain about a headache.  They're distracted.

It would be so easy.

But he won't. He won't do it.  No matter how much he wants to. He won't. But if he could,

It would be a mercy.

One last gift for a friend who no longer exists.