#AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate

[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.

#Sammy8D writes #AvAM In the Week that Follows #AvM In the Week that Follows #AvM fanfic #alan becker #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #animation vs minecraft #avm shorts #avm #King stick figure #the King #AvM King #AvA King #purple stick figure #ava purple #avm purple #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[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 =

#Sammy8D writes #AvM In the Week that Follows #AvM fanfic #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #alan becker #animation vs minecraft #avm shorts #avm #King stick figure #the King #AvM King #AvA King #purple stick figure #ava purple #avm purple #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[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 =

#Sammy8D writes #AvM In the Week that Follows #AvM fanfic #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #alan becker #animation vs minecraft #avm shorts #avm #King stick figure #the King #AvM King #AvA King #purple stick figure #ava purple #avm purple #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[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 =

#Sammy8D writes #alan becker #ava sticktober 2023 #ava sticktober #AvM King #King Stick Figure #animation vs minecraft #AvA fanfic #avm shorts #AvM Fanfic #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC Melted Marshmallow #AvAM WDHC MM #AvAM WDHC #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[sammy8d257]

Learned Behavior - AvA/M

An AvA/M Oneshot Written by Sammy8D257

Word Count: 1.7k words

TW/CW: - SPOILERS FOR AVM SHORT EP. 29 - Noteblock Universe - ANGST/Minimal Comfort but with a Hopeful Ending,  - Descriptions of Physical and Verbal Parental Abuse towards a Child, - Parental Illness and Death (Purple’s Mom), - Negative Self-Worth Issues (Purple, in general, has garbage mental health)

Summary: Growing up, Purple learned many things. Like how to cook, how to clean, and how to block a punch to the head so you don’t get a concussion. All valuable skills in their own humble opinion. Though, the most important lesson Purple ever learned was that they weren’t good enough.

- - - 

When Purple was 3, their mom told them the day they were born was the happiest day of their parents’ lives. It happened on one quiet afternoon when Purple tottled to their mom with tears pooling in their eyes. Clutched in one hand was a big golden star and, in the other, a colorful “#1 place” trophy base. Through hiccupy sobs, the little stick figure explained how their ball hit their dad’s display cabinet and knocked the trophy to the ground, breaking it on impact. Their mom knelt and wrapped her child into a hug, promising that she nor her partner would be mad at Purple. She told them how the trophies didn’t matter because Purple was the best thing in their lives and how they would always love them.

9 years later, Purple learned that was a lie.

-

When Purple was 4, they had a nightmare that had them screaming awake. In their panic, they fled to the only place they knew was safe, their parents’ arms. If their dad was surprised by the impact of a crying toddler, he didn’t let it show. With a firm but comforting hand, their dad hoisted his child onto his lap and asked what was wrong. With shaking breath, Purple explained how a huge monster with sharp teeth and glowing eyes was trying to eat them. To that, their dad laughed, hearty and full, while he rubbed a comforting circle on the top of their head. A monster could never get them, their dad explained, because he was the greatest fighter to have ever lived. Purple giggled as their dad as he flexed his muscles for emphasis. The rest of the night was spent by their dad sharing stories of his past fights and old adventures. And Purple fell asleep, knowing they’d be protected from anything that wanted to hurt them.

4 years later, Purple learned they couldn’t be protected from every nightmare.

-

When Purple was 6, a child, a kid, old enough, their dad started to train them. Purple always thought their dad was so cool for knowing how to fight. They grew up on stories of the old stick fights their dad participated in. Fights that left both fighters bloody and bruised, with only the strongest surviving. To the little stick, it sounded so exciting. They wanted to be strong and powerful like him. It started out small. Their dad taught them how to stand when facing an opponent. How to keep their thumb outside their fist when punching. How to block their face if someone tries to attack them. When it came time for their first sparring match, Purple lost. And lost. And lost and lost and lost. Despite their sore muscles and bruised skin, their dad kept going until Purple finally landed one hit. And then he said to do it again. 

2 years later, Purple learned how to effectively roll into a landing that didn’t leave their shoulders aching. The whole family went out for ice cream that day.

-

When Purple was 9, their mom first said something to their dad. On that day, Purple had twisted their ankle during training. Their dad angrier than they've seen him yet, berated them for allowing themself to get hurt. They fled the scene with barely concealed tears and Purple hobbled their way to their mom. There in her arms, they began to cry. Regular training was postponed for 3 days while their ankle healed.

5 hours later, Purple learned how to keep their crying silent as they listened to their parents argue in the dead of night.

-

When Purple was 10, they found training with their father was easier when they didn’t react as much. Don’t whine and don’t cry. Don’t show your opponent any weakness, or you will fail. The world did not need someone as sad and emotional as Purple. So they tried. They took every punch, kick, and shove to the ground through gritted teeth. They hide their emotions behind a blank or snarling face. Their father was always there to remind them of what could happen if they didn’t. 

2 hours later, Purple learned they could get praise this way when their father complimented them during the break. Good Focus. They relished the feeling of their father’s hand patting their back.

-

When Purple was 12, they couldn’t get back up. Their father was angry. He demanded they stand up and fight. He demanded they finally prove that they were good enough by getting up. And Purple couldn’t. They were tired. They were so tired. On the floor, all they could do was watch as their father grew angrier and angrier. Pathetic. Weak. A disgrace. They barely registered when their mom ran to their side. Purple could hear them yelling, shouting, deep hurtful words, but they couldn’t understand anything. Curled on the ground, they watched their father step closer to their mother, and then walk past her. Purple was confused. Purple was scared. And at that moment, they just wanted their dad. They wanted his hugs and pats on the back. They wanted his protection. They wanted him to tell them everything was alright and that he loved them. So on shaking knees, Purple got back up and reached for him. They watched their father turn; for a brief moment, they thought he would come back. But as his father took one last look at them, he turned away and walked out the door. 

5 minutes later, Purple learned what his mom’s face looked like when she cried.

-

When Purple was 14, they apologized for ruining their family. They said it while their mom was preparing dinner. Their home had been quiet for the past few years, but at that moment, its silence was deafening. They watched as their mom lowered the stove temperature and placed the lid on the stew pot. Carefully, as if they were made of porcelain, their mom knelt and took their hands into hers. It’s not your fault, she said; it would never be your fault. Purple refused to meet her eyes. Even as she wrapped them in a warm desperate hug, all Purple could say was, Okay.

2 hours later, Purple learned comforting words could be as meaningless as lies when they caught their mom looking longingly at an old family photo. 

-

When Purple was 15, their mom taught them how to cook and take care of the home. They were getting older. It only seemed fitting that Purple started to pull their own weight in the household. And like it or not, they were starting to notice how their mom’s hands would shake and how tired she looked. She tried to hide it from them through kind smiles and dismissive hand waves, but Purple could see it. Purple would do anything if it meant they could stop being a burden to her. So they watched and memorized their mom’s recipes. They began cleaning the home early in the morning before she woke up. And they carefully threw away the ceramic shards from the floor when the mug slipped through their mom’s weakened grip. And when their mom would give them a tired smile and a quiet thank you, Purple knew it was all worth it.

6 months later, Purple learned their mom was ill after she collapsed while vacuuming the floor.

-

When Purple was 18, their mom apologized to them. It happened while Purple was helping her eat her food. Over the past years, her condition had deteriorated, and Purple was the one who took care of her. Her voice was quiet, and her grip on their arm was weak, but Purple held on to it with the desperation of a scared child. She apologized. She said she was sorry for making Purple spend all their time looking after her. She said she was sorry for not stopping their father sooner and for even marrying him to begin with. She said she was sorry for how she wasn’t there for them when they needed her, how she couldn’t be there for them now, and how she won’t be able to be there for them in the future. She loved them, and she’s sorry. And Purple, Purple could only hold her in their arms and whisper comforting words as she cried. It's okay. I forgive you. You’re alright. I’m alright. I love you. It’s going to be okay. I love you. It’s going to be okay. I love you. I love you.

3 weeks later, Purple learned what it's like to bury a parent.

-

When Purple was 20, they met other stick figures. After their mother died, Purple gathered what was left of their belongings and left their home house. They never looked back. That was a few years ago, now, they sit atop a throne overseeing a town of villagers in a game where the player decides the story. They tried so hard to make something to be proud of. It wasn’t fair that these outsiders were celebrated almost immediately. Perhaps something special or unique that showed how good you were at the game, a trophy, would reaffirm Purple’s place in the village.

18 minutes later, Purple relearned the feeling of failure as their the villagers carried them through the destroyed village. 

-

(Months later, Purple learned what it’s like to fail but still be smiled at afterwards at the hand of the same people who caused their last failure. They expected a beatdown but got a hug instead. Purple didn’t know what to feel but they decided they liked it.)

-

When Purple was 22, they met the second most powerful stick figure. The King was regal in name and appearance. He towered over Purple and displayed his power through the masterful use of his staff. When the King offered them a place by his side in exchange for their servitude help, Purple couldn’t refuse. 

Weeks later, Purple learned that the King wasn’t as perfect as they originally thought as they watched him coldly berate and attack his piglin brutes. But when he would pat their head or give them praise (Good job, You did well, Your effort is appreciated), Purple found it easier to ignore the King’s flaws.

-

When Purple was 6, 12, 18, 20, 22, now, they learned they were nothing but wasted potential. An expectation left unfulfilled because they were too slow, too dumb, too weak, too useless to ever match up. Lie after lie was told in order to ignore it all, but Purple knew the truth. From the fights, and the tears, and the failures, and the betrayals, Purple learned that they would never be good enough.

But now, many years from the beginning, they stand on a snowy mountain surrounded by warm, green arms, and Purple learns that maybe, they were wrong.

#Sammy8D writes #alan becker #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #ava #avm #avm fanfic #ava fanfic #purple stick figure #ava purple #avm purple #avm purple's parents #avm Orchid #avm Regular Blue #avam Watered Down Hot Chocolate #I have so many thoughts and all of them amount to me going #AvAM WDHC #Sammy8D Stick Stuff #I straight up made myself crying while writing this #hhhhhhhhnnng purple [crying]

[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

#Sammy8D art #Sammy8D writes #AvM In the Week that Follows #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #alan becker #animation vs minecraft #king stick figure #the king #ava king #avm king #purple stick figure #avm purple #ava purple #avm #avm shorts #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[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…

#Sammy8D writes #AvM In the Week that Follows #AvM fanfic #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #alan becker #animation vs minecraft #avm shorts #avm #King stick figure #the King #AvM King #AvA King #purple stick figure #ava purple #avm purple #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[sammy8d257]

Not really a question, but while I was reading the new part of watered down hot chocolate, I realized that it was the good ending and that the mad king au was the bad ending.

Anyways, I really like both! Also, when are you planning to do something for the mad king au next?

Thank you so much both the "Watered Down Hot Chocolate" series (WDHC, for short) and the Mad King AU!!

Those series are so much fun to develop

To your point, I can see how you might think they're like the "Good and Bad" endings for AvM season 3, but they're actually not!

The "WDHC" is my attempt at writing a post AvM s3 canon-compliant series! It's focused on exploring the life and relationship of Purple (primarily) and King that is as close to the given canon of the AvA/M videos

The Mad King AU is an alternative universe that loosely follows the events of the Animation vs Minecraft series but the backstories for Purple and King absolutely do not follow the canon given in AvM s3. I think I did briefly go into some of the changes made to the canon events of the AvM series in a previous post but I haven't really gotten into the backstories of Purple and King yet

And let me tell you, it's a doozy. One of the biggest changes is that King didn't lose his kid via Minecraft, he lost them during the "Chosen and Dark Attacks" on the internet. They were separated from each other in the commotion and King never found them.

Purple's backstory is still mostly the same as shown in AvM 29 and in previous things I've written, but I've kinda ramped their neurotic behavior up to 11.

Both of them are messed up in different ways and while at the start, their friendship was good, due to their own refusal to address their problems, things started going sour. And then they found Minecraft and everything went to shit-

So yeah, the Mad King AU is definitely not the same as canon alskjdlgjsdg

But I can't wait to do more with it!

Once I finish the final part of Day 1 of "In the Week that Follows", I'm planning on doing a very special comic for the Mad King AU

Hint: I hope you like code-breaking >83c

#Sammy8D answers #n00bcat1234 #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #AvM Mad King AU #AvA Mad King AU #Mad King AU #Sammy8D queues #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[sammy8d257]

IN REGARDS TO THE LATEST AVA ACTUAL SHORT "Cherry Blossoms"

ALL I WANNA SAY IS

IM RIGHT

THIS SHORT HAS SINGLE-HANDEDLY CONFIRMED ABOUT 75% OF MY WORLDBUILDING HEADCANONS FOR THE INTERSPACE WORLD

I NEVER SAID ANY OF THEM BECAUSE I HAVE AN ENTIRE SERIES OF FANFICS EXPLORING IT VIA PURPLE AND KING (its the "Watered Down Hot Chocolate" series) THAT I WANT TO WRITE OUT

But just know

I'M RIGHT

#Sammy8D says #IM POPPING OFF SO HARD RN #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #I GOTTA FINISH IN THE WEEK THAT FOLLOWS #This short has reignited my motivation to continue writing #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[sammy8d257]

Hello Gamers!

"Learned Behavior" is now on Ao3!

You can find the link to it here!

In other news,

Here's the title drop, summary, and a bit of "Work in Progress" dialogue for the next fic in my new series,

"Watered Down Hot Chocolate - A collection of stories exploring Purple's past, present, and potential future in a world of colorful stick figures, kings, games and more."

I present:

In the Week that Follows (wip)

Summary: When King woke up to the sight 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 isn’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 looked out the peephole 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 -

(Work In Progress Dialogue for this fic under the "Keep Reading")

Day 0:

"Alright, I guess, this is... bye? Will you be safe getting home?"

"Oh. I'm not leaving."

"Wha- what?"

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

"... Right. Make yourself at... home?"

"... You know, I never said this earlier because you were my boss, but your place sucks. It's a mess."

"I- Are you seriously insulting my house right now? You could just leave if you don't like it here."

"I could but once again, I'm tired and beat up and that's partially your fault, so you kinda owe me at least one night's rest."

"..."

"..."

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

"Then you'll love it when I'm asleep. Speaking of, do you have another bed?"

"What?"

"A bed. To sleep in."

“...”

“A couch. A recliner. A mat.”

“I-”

“C’mon, you’ve got to have something.”

"I guess you can use-"

"I'm not taking your bed."

"..."

"Look, I'll just, sleep on the floor alright? I've done it before. Multiple times actually. All I need are a couple of pillows and blankets. Do you have any extra?"

"... yes. I'll be right back."

- - -

"Here."

"Medieval themed? Very on brand huh?"

"They aren't mine."

"What-"

"Purple go to sleep. I'm going to bed."

"(sigh) ... okay."

-O - o -

And that's what I have so far! I'm hoping to flesh out the rest while I'm on vacation and then write it all out once I get back!

#Sammy8D says #Sammy8D writes #Alan Becker #Animation vs Minecraft #AvM #AvM shorts #Purple stick figure #King stick figure #AvM Purple #AvM King #AvA Purple #AvA King #work in progress #Ao3 link #Yah boi is finally posting on their Ao3 account #lets gooooooooo #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[sammy8d257]

Genuine Question regarding the "Day 1" chapter of "In the Week that Follows" (my fanfic that explores the week following the events of AvM season 3)

This chapter is so long, I'm talking like an estimated 12k words long by the time I finish it (currently finishing up section 3 and it's reaching 10k words and I still have another section to go)

Option 1 clarification: By this, I mean, I would split the chapter into 3 parts and post these parts individually to Tumblr as they get finished but I won't post the chapter to Ao3 until the entire chapter gets done

#Sammy8D polls #Sammy8D says #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM In the Week that Follows #AvAM WDHC #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[sammy8d257]

Excerpt from The Differences of Created and Natural Parenthood: Examining the effects of parental origin on child rearing: 

"As one participant stated,

"I think my parents did love each other at some point. I just... I just don't think they were ready to raise a child." 

The participant goes on to detail the origins of their parents. Both parents were created stick figures originating from the  animation field and when together formed a husband-wife dynamic. The one who the participant identified as their mother figure came from a drama animation where she was a background figure. The father figure came from early stick fighting videos. In this instance, both parental figures while displaying a desire to raise a child, lacked the appropriate knowledge to properly raise one. Those from fighting backgrounds often find themselves at a disadvantage when it comes to adapting to a more traditionally "human" life. "It's not that we can't or don't want to change. It's more like, how do you go from your whole world being about beating up the next person to playing nice with neighbors while living in the equivalent of suburbia? It's a steep learning curve" (Flame, 2017). Fighting backgrounds are not alone in this learning curve. Those who come from more dramatized or idealized origins can find themselves struggling to adapt to the mundanity of life in the Interspace." 

- Dr. Kelly "Green", Professor and Head Researcher of Psychology and Sociology at the North-East Server University

= o =

I'M SO MAD I'M THIS CLOSE TO WRITING A FULL ACADEMIC SOCIOLOGICAL PAPER/REPORT ON MY AVA STICK FIGURE HEADCANONS

LIKE, I WROTE SO MUCH DURING COLLEGE FOR MY UNDERGRAD AND MASTERS THAT I FEASIBLE COULD

I'M SO MAD

#Sammy8D writes #AvAM The Differences of Created and Natural Parenthood #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #AvA Headcanon #Alan Becker #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #ava shorts #avm shorts #Mad because I know I could write a 15-20 page research report on fucking stick figures #where was this drive when I was doing actual academic school work #Sammy8D queues #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[sammy8d257]

Watered Down Hot Chocolate - an AvA/M series

created by Sammy8D257

= o =

Purple's Childhood Hot Coco Recipe

Ingredients:

- 2 tablespoons baking cocoa

- 1 1/2 tablespoon sugar

- 1 cup milk

- 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract (Optional)

Directions:

1. In a microwave safe mug, combine the cocoa and sugar.

2. Slowly mix in the milk until the cocoa and sugar dissolve.

3. Microwave the entire thing on high for one minute or until hot.

(Optional) 4. Stir in vanilla extract to your flavor liking

NOTE: If you don't have milk, water works just fine.

= o =

A.K.A.

A collection of stories exploring Purple's past, present, and potential future in a world of colorful stick figures, kings, games and more.

[Note: Hello! Sammy8D here! This is the Masterpost for my "Watered Down Hot Chocolate" series where I will be cataloging and organizing all the comics and fanfics I make for this series! Canon Compliant until proven otherwise. I hope you enjoy it!]

[LINK TO #AvAM WDHC]

[Ao3 LINK]

= o =

AvAM WDHC: Melted Marshmallows

A collection of supplementary materials and side stories that are connected to the main stories but are not required to read to enjoy the WDHC series.

[LINK TO #AVAM WDHC MM]

[Ao3 LINK]

= o =

Last Updated: Oct. 9, 2023

= o =

Any general AvA Headcanons also apply to this AU! You can find my headcanons here ->

[LINK TO #AvA Headcanon]

= o =

- Learned Behavior

Status: Complete

Word Count: 1.7k words

Summary: Growing up, Purple learned many things. Like how to cook, how to clean, and how to block a punch to the head so you don’t get a concussion. All valuable skills in their own humble opinion. Though, the most important lesson Purple ever learned was that they weren’t good enough.

[Tumblr Post Link] || [Ao3 Link]

= o =

- In the Week that Follows

Status: Chapters 1/9 complete

Word Count: ??

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 looked out the peephole 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.

[COVER + Chapters] || [Ao3]

= o =

Melted Marshmallows:

- Excerpt from The Differences of Created and Natural Parenthood: Examining the effects of parental origin on child rearing

An excerpt from a fake academic study looking at the effects of being a created stick and a born/natural stick has on raising a child.

-Bed - AvA Sticktober Day 9

How King's bed ends up outside his room. (This takes place a few months after Gold gets disintegrated into Minecraft.)

= o =

MORE TO COME!

#Sammy8D says #Sammy8D writes #Sammy8D art #Watered Down Hot Chocolate Masterpost #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #AvAM WDHC Melted Marshmallows #AvAM WDHC MM #ava series #avm series #alan becker #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #purple stick figure #ava purple #avm purple #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

[sammy8d257]

"Watered Down Hot Chocolate" is simultaneous "Canon Compliant" and an "Alternate Universe" all at the same time

This is because I headcanon the entire AvM season 3 takes place on June 12th, 2021 and that makes it impossible for the beginning episodes of the season (AvM 20 - 24) to be released when they did on Youtube. And since the Alan's channel and the videos are canon to the universe

The only solution I could come up with is shifting all of the videos from AvM 20 to 26 plus AvM Epic Moments, Animation vs Arcade, and Animation vs Trash, forward in time

SO BASICALLY-

I'm insane (affectionate)

[Watered Down Hot Chocolate Masterpost]

#Sammy8D says #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC #AvA headcanon #AvAM WDHC timeline #Sammy8D Stick Stuff