At Long Last: Either An Alternate Explanation For Or Continuation Of My Prior Comic Regarding How Bill

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

A Theraprism staff member, EV-01 - a floating screen with a simplistic happy face on it, long robotic arms, and a pink bow for good measure - offers a pile of aged papers out to Bill in his cell. He's on his bed, laying on his front on top of his pillow (possibly having been screaming into it before this point), and reaches out excitedly for the papers. In the background, there is a 'Be a TRY-angle' poster which has been subject to severe graffiti from Bill, who has also written the word 'NO' in response to the motivational line.

He may have also tilted the poster on purpose.

"Here's those copies of Ford's lost journal pages that you asked so politely for, Bill!" EV-01 says.

"Oh, boy!" Bill replies, fully aware that EV-01 will get in trouble for this later.

"What'd you need them for again?" EV-01 asks, robotic hand taking on a somewhat air-headed thinking position near its screen.

Now holding the journal pages, Bill does not answer right away, staring wide-eyed up at EV-01 like he's about to get caught doing something he's not supposed to. Because he knows he is very much NOT supposed to have these journal pages, and will definitely have them taken away if he does not choose his next words VERY carefully.

Perhaps for irony, the one journal entry visible in his hands is the 'Cipher speaks' page. The artist did not even do that intentionally.

"Art project," Bill finally replies, looking away from EV-01 and sweating somewhat.

EV-01 stares at him with a blank smile, long arms dangling, before it raises both hands in a happy gesture. "Aww, it's so nice to see you're giving art therapy an honest try now!" it exclaims, adding more quietly, "Instead of just drawing triangles everywhere..."

Bill just stares back flatly, utterly unimpressed with EV-01 and how gullible it is. He has no doubts it will be reassigned from working on his (extremely difficult) case the second he's caught with these journal pages he shouldn't have.

"Sure, buddy," Bill says, not at all dismissive and patronizing. Also not dismissive or patronizing, he waves with one hand at EV-01 as it departs with the mistaken belief it has just done a Very Good Job.

"See you later for your meds~" EV-01 calls back happily.

The camera zooms in on Bill, clutching the journal pages and staring intently towards the unseen door of his cell, waiting for the coast to clear in silence.

Once he’s alone in his cell, Bill sits up on his pillow, holding the journal pages aloft to stare at them in triumphant glee. "These are gonna make SUCH good blackmail material," he declares.

He begins to go through the pages, looking excited and saying, "I hope Fordsy drew me pretty in these~" And, because the artist is lazy, the writing on the one visible journal page simply reads, "Page intentionally left blank."

Bill is stunned speechless upon finding Ford's drunken karaoke night entry, looking at his drawn self with his eye massively wide. In Bill-vision, three descriptions point to Ford's drawing of him, including "Nude", "Bare", and "Buck Ass Naked."

With the rest of the pages set aside atop one leg, Bill singles out the karaoke page in his hands, looking down at it with bewilderment. He no longer cares about the other pages, which is fortunate in that the artist was once again lazy, the only visible page reading, “Journal page not found, 404.”

"Well, THIS can't be right.,” Bill insists down at Ford’s drawing. “I wasn't THAT drunk back then.”

He pauses to actually think about that claim for a second.

"...Probably," Bill amends, sweating a little, and looking awkwardly off to the side. It's as if he knows he was DEFINITELY drunk enough to get naked with Ford back then, but is in purposeful denial as usual.

What follows is a time-skip, 'One Week Later', and in that week, a very determined Bill works to prep material to psychically beam into the Book of Bill, holding a pen and post-it note, and surrounded by art supplies like glue and glitter. He is nearly caught, EV-01 coming up behind him to ask a happy question, which is designated only by a question mark. It makes Bill startle and drop what he's holding, eye blown massively wide. He throws himself over his work, arms shielding it, and looks back at EV-01 in a sweaty panic. Further proving its ditzy gullibility, EV-01 just raises its hands to pacify him, smiling sheepishly all the while, and does not press the matter any further.

It probably sees this as an effective trust-building maneuver, having failed to consider that this is BILL it's dealing with.

The scene shifts to Ford Pines, who is in the middle of sitting down on the couch in his room, a blue pen behind one ear and an open satchel of his things held before him. Said things include several loose papers, a yellow notepad, red and yellow pens, a number two pencil, a green stress ball (or perhaps a bouncy ball Mabel snuck inside), a red journal that has yet to be spruced up, and a Zippo lighter.

The Book of Bill is also visible among those things, but Ford has not spotted it yet.

"It's incredible how much better I feel after that funeral for Bill," he says to himself with a tired smile. Sitting down fully, he starts to reach into his satchel, eyes closed as he remarks sagely, "Closure really does work wonders..."

His hand touches something unexpected.

"What the-" Ford asks, one brow raised in confusion as he finds and starts to pull out the one thing in his satchel that doesn't belong.

Now faced with the unmistakable cover of the Book of Bill, Ford squints down at it in intense disapproval. "Oh, this had BETTER be a bad joke..." he warns absolutely no one. Who is he even talking to? Nobody knows. Either way, his satchel sits open on his lap, and is about to be set aside and rudely ignored.

Ford shifts on the couch, satchel discarded to one side as he opens the Book of Bill with a look of frustration. "He's probably still dead, so this is FINE. I'm FINE," Ford insists, despite the fact that he has just OPENED THE BOOK OF BILL to see what's inside.

He is shocked to find that the first page bears his own penciled rendition of the karaoke night with Bill - something Ford only remembered once Weirdmaggedon ended in Bill’s death. There are two little stickers placed on the drawing, one being a conical party hat with the words 'party boi' on it, which has been stuck on top of Ford's head, while the other is a wonky yellow star stuck over his chest to declare him an 'A+ drunk'. There is also a small scribble of Bill off to one side, one arm stretched out towards the old drawing, and he looks either concerned or confused, a messy 'wtf' written close by.

Three red arrows indicate Ford's old drawing of Bill specifically, and below it all, in large letters, Bill has written, "Hey, quick question, why did you draw me naked?"

Despite being stunned speechless - and slightly offended - by the question, Ford still gets one finger under the page to turn it.

He then proceeds to narrow his eyes down at the next page in severe displeasure. Across the top of the page, "Anatomy of Successful Attire" has been written out above a picture of Bill posing coyly, the various bits of his ensemble pointed out with a series of tiny triangles.

The bits include: Hat (tops only), lashes (on POINT), bowtie (very important!), pants (less important), gloves (nice), and boots (for slaying). For no particular reason that FORD can see, 'pants' is underlined twice. Those in the know, however, would understand that this is due to the fact that Bill does not understand how to WEAR pants, and is thus actually wearing tights. This is because tights are totally DIFFERENT from pants, and NOT just because the artist stopped giving a fuck. :)

On either side of the image, Bill has written, "Such fashion~ Such grace~ So very stylish and in your face~" in red ink, though the main point of the page is written directly below and in the center.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure I was still wearing all my usual getup during karaoke, but I get it! I'm very attractive and everyone wants me carnally," Bill has decided, quite correctly in tumblr's eyes. "But especially you!"

Hearts have been drawn on either side of that declaration, while under it, a messy doodle of Ford is fawning over a slightly less messy doodle of Bill. Hands clasped, and eyes shining like he's trapped in a 90's shoujo anime, the doodle-Ford sighs, "Notice me, my muse~"

The doodle-Bill, however, is not impressed by this, one hand on his hip and the other held out in an unspoken 'stop' Ford's way. "Get in line, Sixer!" he declares.

The next page is visible, including empty check boxes and some sort of vampire bat-themed item taped below them, but Ford is too busy glaring at everything he hates about the page before it to notice just yet.

"What sort of DELUSIONAL-" Ford starts to exclaim, one hand thrown partially skyward in disgust. Upon seeing the next page, however, he stops his exclamation to instead heartily cringe and mutter, "Oh, God. Oh, NO..."

"You obviously still want me, right?" is written at the top, with a hopeful, shiny-eyed drawing of Bill poking his index fingers together below it. To its left, there are three separate options with empty check mark boxes: 'Yes', 'Definitely', and 'Absolutely'.

It is not in the least bit rigged in his favor.

Taped below all of it is a totally normal pen that is not ominous in any way whatsoever. The top of it looks like a cutesy vampire bat, complete with ears and wings, while the bottom half - the part where the pen is actually held - a gaping mouth full of sharp teeth hangs open, two wide red eyes set to either side. Not far off, Bill has written 'For You!', punctuating the words with a heart, and indicating the pen with a little arrow.

"Note to self: Exorcise this pen later," Ford mumbles, having removed the vampire pen from the Book of Bill to eye it warily.

He swears he can hear it urging him, "Give me your bloooood~"

Carefully keeping his fingers away from its fang-filled mouth, Ford opts for the pen tucked behind his ear, instead.

With a smug little smile, he dutifully answers Bill's question of "You obviously still want me, right?" Of course, he does so not by checking any of the rigged options, but by circling two letters together, instead: The 'N' in 'definitely', and the 'O' in 'absolutely'.

"NO."

Riding the smug high of his petty little rebellion, Ford uses his pen to turn to the Book of Bill's next page. Set aside safely on a nearby couch cushion, the vampire pen croons to him, "Bloooooood..."

He ignores it.

He wishes he could ignore the next page, which makes it clear that Bill is actively responding now, and Ford almost looks towards the camera Office-style at what he reads.

Next to a scribble of Bill, arms crossed and impatient, is written, "Okay, wise guy, that wasn't even one of your options, but for real, WHY did you draw me NAKED?!"

Three lines are provided for Ford to write on at the bottom of the page, with the demand of, "Write answer here." It is not at all concerning or unsurprising that, just below that demand, and in parentheses, Bill has added, "Preferably in your blood!"

This is especially not at all concerning or unsurprising, considering that the next page is a long list entitled, "Reasons for you to write to me in your blood". The header image is a MOSTLY nondescript human who has sliced open his palm, blood dripping down to the delight of Bill, who is watching the blood with his hands pressed to either side of his bowtie, a heart floating nearby.

"This could be YOU!" has been scribbled over the lack of a face on the human, who would have been completely nondescript instead of MOSTLY if he didn't clearly have six fingers per hand.

The list of reasons is patently ridiculous.

"It's really cool. I'll be your best friend. It's basically infinite ink. It's a nice color. Biohazards are fun! It will have no negative repercussions. You don't even need all that blood. It would be very nice of you. As Nike would say, "Just do it!" All the cool kids are doing it. Everyone loves cool kids that give blood. Giving blood is super charitable. It would make you a better person! You'll get free apple juice and a cookie, too! Do I really need to keep going? This is so many reasons already, just write to me in your blood, I'll even be nice and say "please", look: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEA-". The pleading is cut off by the edge of the page, for reasons Ford is unclear on, but which definitely continues across the Theraprism floor on Bill's end.

On the three lines provided by Bill, where he has demanded "Write answer here: (Preferably in your blood!)", Ford writes back a simple message in blue ink.

"I was very hungover and didn't feel like shading everything in, it's not that deep, Bill."

Still calmly ignoring the vampire pen, which is now rasping, "So thirstyyyyy..." Ford turns to the next page.

"And, let me guess," he says, preemptively unimpressed, "he denies it."

Ford sighs heavily and rolls his eyes at the next page.

"...Yep."

Next to a drawing of an agitated Bill, hands on hips and foot tapping, the expected denial is laid out plain in mixed black and red ink. "Sure, sure, nice EXCUSE, but I know you still want me! So how about you do us both a favor and just admit the REAL truth right down here!" Several arrows follow, indicating the two lines provided for Ford, with two additional demands beneath them.

"Write true answers ONLY!!!" is first, and in parenthesis beneath that is, "And in your blood this time! I GAVE YOU SUCH A NICE PEN FOR IT!!!"

Ford wisely continues to ignore the off-screen vampire pen in favor of his own, and writes in reply, "I want you to choke on glass." On a whim, he also adds a little smiley face close by.

Much to the artist's dismay, Ford ignores the next page completely, which is a real shame, because it's full of fun little drawings of Bill in a variety of poses. The amount of tiny red and blue triangles also littering the page is probably fine. Next to each drawing of himself, Bill has written additional notes, with the one at the very top of the page citing, "I dunno what to put on this page, so have these doodles I guess."

Near a waving Bill, "OMG HI" is written, though below it, in smaller text, he is pleading, "they won't let me swear, send help". A doodle that is not fully visible is coupled with the assertion, "This is a forking MASTERPIECE." Beneath a happily beaming Bill, he has declared himself, "Just a silly lil guy~"

In the middle of the page, two Bills hold a banner between them which reads, "Give me your ❤️BLOOD❤️", with tiny text just above the banner saying, "i am so high on meds rn lol". Not far off, another Bill lounges, asking, "Did *I* do that~?", though close by, he has also added, with no explanation, "hhhhhhhhhhh." Perhaps relating to the prior image, but not really explaining the barrage of H's, another waving Bill has been doodled exclaiming, "I am committing felony tax evasion!" Beneath it is an additional note, which chides the reader, “yall suck at thinking w/ portals! NO CAKE FOR U!!!”

Bill does not seem to care that the meme in question was already dead for at least 4 years by the time Weirdmaggedon rolled around.

One doodle of Bill has a heart in his eye, the accompanying note being, "GOLLY, who's the good-lookin' guy reading this right now?", and the drawing is probably not supposed to be followed directly by the one beneath it. It’s a messy scribble of what MIGHT be an axolotl face, not even colored. “Pictured: A JERK,” that one reads, so...presumably, it’s not related to the trio of increasingly lovestruck and sultry Bill drawings surrounding it.

The one that likely SHOULD have followed the heart-eyed Bill shows him with his bowtie removed. “GASP!” this one says, eye shyly closed and a hand on his blushing ‘cheek’, “So illumi-NAUGHTY!” Directly next to it, lounging like he ought to be drawn like one of those French girls, Bill has asked, “Wanna save the town? ;)”, presumably to distract from the fact that, not far off, he wrote and scribbled out the words, “send nudes”.

Close to that drawing is one that is mostly cut off, but it bears yet another demand, this one in all caps, “GET ME OUT OF THIS *STUPID ART THERAPY*”. Bafflingly, along the bottom of the page is the line, “i miss my wife, tails”, and to the left of that is another, far more wobbly triangle. This one is mostly eye, which has been messily drawn OVER the triangle’s lines, and written underneath it is, “I drew this by accident so now you have to look at it, too.”

It is a positively ridiculous amount of adorable little Bill doodles, which the artist put a ridiculous amount of effort into for some reason, and Ford should be ASHAMED for ignoring all of them.

Ford is, however, not ashamed in the least.

Snapping the Book of Bill shut, and continuing to ignore the vampire pen - which has been starved for so long that a wispy red soul miserably rises from it in death - Ford roots through his satchel.

He then pulls out his Zippo lighter, holds up the Book of Bill, and casually sets one corner on fire.

For a long moment, and saying nothing, Ford watches the Book of Bill as it burns.

Then, he looks straight into the camera like he's on The Office, uncaring of the fire hazard he's still holding, to make one last resigned remark for the audience:

"So much for closure."

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Aware that his book is burning by and IN Ford's hand, Bill stares up at the ceiling of his cell, eye wide and unblinking. "Ford wants me to choke on glass..." he murmurs, arms wrapped around the medium through which he was beaming his thoughts to Ford.

The book is titled, 'Bill Cipher's "Art Project"', with multiple warnings to leave it be, such as, "DO NOT TOUCH! *EVER!*", and "NO THERAPISTS ALLOWED". On the spine of the book, a series of seemingly unrelated words have been scrawled, including 'fork', 'bench', 'shirt', and 'ash', followed by a meaningless, agitated scribble. The relation and meaning becomes clear at the bottom of the spine, which bears the words, "Let me swear, you losers!"

Bill continues to stare up at the ceiling, not saying another word for a very long time.

Then, he hugs his 'art project' close, closes his eye, and kicks his feet. "That's the nicest pick-up line I've ever gotten!" he squeals in delight.

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

"Be your BEST self!" EV-01 urges Bill - or perhaps even YOU!

Behind it, Bill squints, asking, "The FORK does that even mean? I'm ALWAYS the best."

The artist does not disagree. :)

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

Broken (but it's on the mend) - AVA/M

Word count: 6,221

TW/CW:

-Graphic depictions of panic attack

-Mentioning of past child abuse

Characters: Purple, King Orange/Mango Tango, Green, Blue, Yellow, Red, The Second Coming, Navy Blue(mentioned), Orchid/Pink(mentioned), Gold(mentioned)

Relationships: (No romantic pairings) Purple & King Orange/Mango Tango, Purple & Green, Purple & The Colour Gang

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post AVM Ep 30 "The King" , Purple having self-worth issues, Good parent Mango, Bad parent Navy, the Colour Gang being good friends

Summary: Purple decided to clean up Mango's house while he was away, but made a terrible mistake in the process.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

"Okay, I'm leaving. Remember not to open the door for strangers, if you want to visit Green and the other kids in Minecraft drop me a message first, if I'm not home yet when you come back, don't forget to close the nether portal, also-"

"Sir-MT, I'm not a kid anymore. I've been living by myself for almost 2 years now, you don't have to worry about me." Purple pouted at Mango as the latter reached for his gold scarf, wrapping it around his neck meticulously.

"I know, I know. I have completely faith in your ability to take care of yourself, it's just..." Mango let out a sigh and placed a hand on the door knob, "...old habits die hard."

Purple bit their lip as they watched Mango open the door. The fierce, icy wind of December blew some snow flakes onto the doormat.

"And don't forget to eat your lunch, there's food in the fridge. Don't heat metal containers in the microwave, remember to scoop whatever's inside into a bowl first-"

"MT!"

"Okay okay I'll stop now." Mango laughed and ruffled Purple's hair. "See you in the afternoon."

"See you!"

The door closed with a thud. Purple let out a breath they didn't know they were holding and turned around.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock...The sound of the wall clock echoed across the living room, the only sound keeping them company.

They were alone, the realisation slowly sank in like a pebble descending down a deep well. Purple hugged themselves absentmindedly, their gaze drifted onto the small framed photograph placed on a low cabinet to their left. In it, a young child sat on their father's shoulders, beaming at them brightly.

Purple responded with a small smile of their own, then withdrew their gaze and straightened their back. No use in standing here like a moron, they scolded themselves, they need to find something to do.

They scanned across the living room and only then did they realise what a mess it still was. The walls were covered with furious scribbles of Mango King Orange's notes and calculations, books and previous iterations of the King's staff were hastily piled up in the corners, the floor was coated by a thick layer of dust.

Purple mentally kicked themselves. It's been two weeks since Mango gave up his title as King Orange and even allowed Purple to live with him in his own house, and they didn't even think of cleaning up said house for him? What kind of child roommate were they?

They'll make the house spotless before Mango came back. Purple's heart leaped as they pictured Mango returning home, pleasantly surprised, and telling them how good it was to have them around. They bounced on their feet a few times in excitement, and immediately set themselves in motion.

An indefinite amount of scrubbing, sweeping, mopping and tidying later, Purple glanced at the wall clock and noticed the minute hand had thrice swept pass the same marking since Mango left. They stretched their sore muscles and admired their work: the once dusty and stained floor now practically gleaming, the walls clean and polished, furnitures and items neatly arranged, a fresh scent of cleaning products filled the air. Several short, joyful notes escaped from Purple’s mouth, they can’t wait for Mango to see this!

Satisfied, they realised how exhausted they were, and decided to take a well deserved break.

A bucket of dirty soap water, coincidentally sitting in Purple's way, was knocked over. Purple stumbled on the slippery floor and lost their balance. They yelped in surprise, flailed their arms and tried to grab hold of something, but failed and fell painfully into the puddle of filthy water with a splash. "Ow..." They mumbled, sitting up and rubbed their aching elbows. "Great, I have to mop the floor all over again..."

Suddenly, they spotted something on the floor. Blood drained from their face.

The photograph of Mango and his child lay submerged in the foul, murky water. A large, ugly crack marred the lovingly polished glass, liquid gradually seeped in through the crack, tainting Gold's wide grin with a greyish stain.

"God, oh no, oh nononononono...." Purple snatched the broken photograph from the ground and desperately wiped away all the disgusting liquid from its surface, but the damage was already done.

"It's okay, it's okay! I-I can fix this!" Purple reassured themselves with trembling voice, knowing perfectly well deep down that there's nothing they could do to reverse the damage. They traced the cracks with cold, numb fingers, the glaring blemish on the photo paper stung their eyes. "Oh god, what have I done..."

Purple recalled the first time they entered Mango's house, everything was carelessly lying around unkempt except for this photograph, which was free from the slightest speckle of dust. When Purple picked up the photograph to have a closer look, Mango snatched the photo away from Purple immediately. Every now and then, Mango would stare at the photo with such tenderness in his eyes that made Purple's heart throb.

A newfound horror dawned upon Purple. What would Mango do when he found out that Purple broke his most cherished possession? The one and only memento of his dearest child?

The mere thought alone made Purple's whole body seize up in fear. Their legs felt like noodles as they sat helplessly in the slowly spreading puddle of dirty water. Purple hugged the broken photograph closely to their chest, their frame trembling with every sharp inhale, wet eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to find a solution.

Then, Purple heard the click of a key inserted into the keyhole, followed by the soft clunk of the bolt retracting.

Their heart stopped.

"I'm home!" Mango's deep, warm voice sounded like death knell to Purple's ears. They suddenly found themselves pinned to the ground, eyes glued to the dark liquid beneath them, unable to move, unable to speak. Their knuckles went white with how tightly they clinched the photograph, heart hammering against their chest.

"Wait no-shoot...wrong house..."

"...Eh? But this is my house?"

"Purple! Kid, did you clean up the whole place while I was gone? Hehe, I didn't even recognise this place!"

"...Purple?"

Footsteps. Mango's voice was right above them. "Purple? Why are you...what's wrong?"

Purple tried to answer, but their vocal cord cannot make a sound.

"Hey, kid-" Purple felt Mango touching their shoulders, they jerked backwards so violently as if being burnt. Purple looked up, and saw Mango towering over them.

A heavy kick from Navy sent Purple slamming into the gravel ground. The friction sent scorching pain across their back. Their father towered over them, looking angry and disappointed. "Get up! Now!" He growled, stomping the ground hard with one foot.

"S-sir! I-" Purple wanted to stand up, but their feet doesn't feel like theirs. Instead they scrambled backwards like a wounded animal.

Mango must have sensed something was wrong. Purple didn't miss how his brows furrowed and how his eyes went sharp and scrutinising. His gaze was like an invisible hand squeezing the air out of Purple's lungs.

"Get up you little-! You think your enemies are just going to let you take your own sweet time?! If you're in a real battle you'd be dead by now!" Navy's mouth was contorted in a snarl, his booming voice rung at Purple's ears. They tried to stand up, but every muscle inside them screamed of pain and exhaustion.

"Purple, I need you to to tell me what's wrong. I promise I won't hurt you." Mango's voice was gentle and steady, but Purple still flinched as if Mango was yelling.

"I...I..." Purple's tongue felt like sandpaper inside their mouth.

Say something! Make something up! Anything! He cannot find out about the photograph!

As if on cue, Mango's piercing gaze locked onto the small rectangular frame in Purple's arms. All was lost.

Time slowed down. Purple watched, frozen in place, as Mango slowly bent down and took away the photograph. Seeing the damage, Mango's body stiffened, lips pressed together tightly. Then, his eyes turned to Purple again.

The floor was spinning. The room was spinning. Purple's chest felt weird. They tasted bile in their throat. Heartbeats were deafening. Needles were pricking their hands and feet. Somewhere in the distance someone was gasping for breath. They were gasping for breath.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?! Stop crying like a wimp! Did you forget everything I taught you? GET. UP!!" This wasn't their father. This couldn't be their father. The being yelling at them was a demon taking form of their father. Purple curled into a fetal position and hid their face, wishing for everything to stop.

No, no, no. They need to calm down, go back normal. Mango's gonna notice and things would get worse. These episodes always make things worse. Stop breathing this fast, NOW!

"Purple, what-" Mango's lips were moving, but Purple cannot register what he was saying. Mango crouched down. Mango lifted their hand towards them.

The first kick landed on Purple's back, knocking the air out of them.

Useless. Thud.

Weak. Thud.

Pathetic. Thud.

Failure. Thud.

Purple's pupils contracted as the hand inched closer to them. No, no, no. This is bad. This's very bad. He's angry. He's going to hurt them. He's going to hurt them like Navy did.

They need to stay away from him, they need to run, they need to get out of here.

Driven by a sudden rush of adrenaline, Purple bolted like a doe startled by a gunshot and dove straight into the trap door leading to the basement. Mango's astonished shout rang behind them, but they didn't dare to look back. They stumbled across the passageway littered with debris, blood pounded in their ears.

Purple activated the nether portal and threw themselves inside.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Purple stumbled through the jagged terrain between deep ravines filled with flowing lava. The sweltering heat amplified their dizziness, making everything around them swirl and warp. The crimson landscape around them seemed to close in, muffling every sound except their desperate, shallow gasps of breath, and the frantic scream in their mind urging them to run, escape, get away.

They didn't know how long they ran or how far they went, eventually fatigue overtook them, as if molten lead had filled their veins. They staggered to a stop, bending over and gasping for breath. Wetness clung to their face, but they couldn't even tell if it was sweat or tears.

Suddenly, a faint, melodious sound of the flute drifted into Purple's ears, a stark contrast to the incessant grunt and rumble in the Nether. Purple's heart skipped a beat. But it couldn't be who they hoped it was, right? Must have been their ears playing tricks on them.

The sound rang out again, Purple held their breath and lifted their head. Could it be? Could it really be?

"...uuuuurrrrrple......!" Purple gasped. A young, silky voice was calling out their name. The familiarity of that voice nearly made Purple burst into tears in relief. They wanted to shout back, but their throat was too tight to make a sound.

"My dear ol' grape boy!" A blur of vibrant green flashed before their eyes and they were enveloped by a pair of warm, slender arms. They automatically replicated the gesture, suddenly felt so completely drained that they could barely stand. It took all they had not to instantly melt into a sobbing mess.

"-so nice to see you again! How're you and King doing? Are you here by yourself?"

"...Green? How...how'd you..." They croaked weakly. Green seemed to notice something was off.

"Why's your voice so...and oh my Alan-"Green pulled away from the embrace, hands still clutching Purple's shoulders, "-you're shaking like crazy! What happened?!"

"I-uh-" The intensity in those emerald eyes made Purple look away. "I...I'm lost...?"

Green's brow twitched. "Purple, that's the lamest lie I've ever heard, even Red can do better than that." He scanned them from head to toe with concern and barely concealed anger. “Tell me, is it King again? Did he do something to you?!"

"No no h-he didn't, I just-"

"You know you can tell me anything, right? You don't have to worry about anyone, you're safe with me!"

And just like that, the dam collapsed. Purple's knees quietly buckled below them, they hid their face in the crook of Green's neck and started to bawl.

"Cursors!" Green stumbled backward slightly due to Purple's weight but quickly steadied himself. With one arm he cradled Purple firmly, supporting their limp body, with the other he began to rub soothing circles on Purple's back.

"No, no-It-it's not him..." They whispered between sobs,"-It's me...I did something...I did something terrible...I messed up...Oh Green, I messed up so bad!"

"Shh, shh…A-ah, it’s alright Purp, it's alright..." Green replied, with a slight tremble in his voice that Purple did not notice.

“An-and now he must be so mad at me! W-what if he doesn’t want me anymore? What if h-he kick me out?” Purple wailed.

“Don’t say that! King wouldn’t-“

“It-it’s all m-my fault! I’m so u-useless!”

That obviously hit a nerve, because Green’s body immediately went rigid. “Bullshit!” He retorted heatedly. “Look, Purple, forget whatever just happened, right now what you need is plenty of rest. So here’s the plan. You, are going to come to our place and stay here for the night. After that we’ll figure out the situation with the other guys. Deal?”

Purple could only stare at Green blankly, teardrops still on their cheeks.

“Actually, never mind! C'mere!” Without further ado, Green tucked a dumbfounded Purple beneath his arm and started walking towards a Nether Portal.

What happened after that was a blur. Various colours danced around Purple emitting a cacophony of voices, but they barely have the energy to acknowledge each of the Colour Gang's presence. Green kept Purple close to his side and exchanged a few words with the others. Then, Purple was led into a dim and quiet room and lay down on a soft surface. They vaguely registered a small plushie being slid into their arms and felt the comforting pressure of a soft, warm blanket wrapped around them. Purple let out a long sigh of relief and silently thanked the Colour Gang for their consideration. At last, they allowed their weary mind to drift into sweet oblivion.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Purple was woken up by raised voices outside their room.

"...did you do this time?! Purple ran into the Nether! They weren't even wearing their elytra! You have no idea how bad a state they were in, shaking and crying all that, who knows what would've happened if I haven't found them!" Green was shouting angrily.

Purple's heart raced as they faintly heard Mango's voice outside the door, but his exact words were indecipherable.

"No! What kind of 'accident' are you talking about?! Was mistreating and betraying them in the past also counted as 'accidents'? We won't let you take another step forward unless you tell us exactly what happened!"

"What happened is between Purple and me. Let me talk to them and things would be resolved." Mango's voice increased in volume, his tone was carefully kept neutral, but Purple could detect the seething anger underneath.

"They're terrified of you! Who knows what you'll do to them if we let you through!"

"I won't do anything to them you stupid kid! I already told you it was a misunderstanding!" Great, now Mango was shouting too.

Purple hurriedly untangled themselves from the blankets and stood up. Despite their dread of confronting Mango, they knew they had to intervene before things escalated further. Having two people who mean the most to them fighting over them was the last thing they wanted. They already made enough mistakes.

Purple took a deep breath and opened the door.

Just as they thought, Mango and the Colour Gang were outside. The five teenagers formed a semi-circle around Mango, shielding Purple from the adult stick figure.

"H-hey MT..."

Seeing Purple, Mango's irritated expression was immediately replaced by relief.

"Purple! Thank the internet you’re okay!" He barged his way through the gang, ignoring their indignant yelp, and strode towards Purple, only stopping abruptly at a 2 meters away as if fearing Purple might run away again if he gets too close.

That wasn't right. Shouldn't Mango be furiously yelling at them for damaging his most valuable possession? Or at least gave them "the look" of disappointment like what Navy used to do? But Mango did nothing like that. Instead, he looked at Purple as if they were made out of delicate glass, and when he spoke his voice was soft and cautious.

“Purple, are-are you…is it alright if I talk with you for a moment? In private?”

What was happening?

“S-sure…?” Purple’s answer was more like a question. They never saw Mango like this before. King Orange was always authoritative and commanding, and although he often treated Purple harshly, his demeanour somehow made Purple feel safe. After giving up his title, Mango became calm and gentle. Purple really liked that, even if they were still unsure how to act around him. But right now, Mango looked like he was treading on thin ice, it even reminded Purple of themselves.

“Purple, you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, we’ll deal with him.” Green walked to Purple’s side and whispered. The rest of the gang also looked at Purple with concern.

“Thank you guys, but I want to talk with him. We’ll be okay.” Purple offered the gang a weak but genuine smile.

“…Right. If you say so.” Green reluctantly walked away, throwing Mango a dirty look as he brushed past the tall stick figure. Mango visibly heaved a sigh of relief, and together they entered Purple’s room.

Sitting on their bed, Purple’s heart start pounding again. What if all that was just an act, and Mango was going to unleash all of his anger on them now that they were alone? Purple’s mind drifted back to the broken photograph and trembled. After committing such a horrendous crime, how could they just ran away without a single apology? Indeed, Mango had every right to be furious with them, they deserved every bit of his wrath and disappointment.

But first, they need to apologise to Mango, it was the least they could do.

Purple watched as Mango quietly closed the door and turned to Purple. They cowered and squeezed their eyes shut, took a deep breath, and-

“I-I’m sorry MT!”

“Purple, I’m so sorry.”

Two voices said in unison, both of them froze.

Wait, what? Was Purple's ears playing tricks on them again?

Purple opened their eyes and stared incredulously at Mango. Mango, meanwhile, grabbed a chair and sat down at a comfortable distance away from Purple. Purple saw him shifting in his seat.

"Allow me to start first, alright?" Mango closed his eyes and took a deep breath, suddenly appearing ten years older. Then, he straightened his back, and that fleeting moment of vulnerability was gone.

"I want to apologise to you for overlooking the damage I inflicted upon you as King Orange. I manipulated you, deceived you, oppressed you, forced you to act against your conscience, and I had almost... if not for these kids...I would've..." Mango closed his eyes again, his face twitched as if in pain. "...I should never assume that you were okay. No one would be okay after what you've been through. And due to my ignorance, I caused you much distress today. I scared you, didn't I? You ran away because you were afraid I might hurt you again like before, didn't you?" Mango's eyes were shimmering with tears.

"Oh Purple, I am so, so sorry. For everything." Mango's hand inched forward as if wanting to hold Purple's hand, but quickly gave up when Purple did not replicate the gesture.

This conversation was not at all what Purple anticipated to be. The memories of King Orange were still raw and painful, they didn't want to relate this kind, gentle stick in front of them with the ruthless, intimidating King they remembered. It broke Purple's heart to witness Mango being swallowed by guilt, but at the same time, it felt like an empty, aching part of them was gradually being filled up by something warm and fuzzy. These complicated feelings was not something they experienced before, and it scared them. So instead, they decided to push them away for the time being and ask Mango the question they cared about the most:

"You...you're not mad about me? For ruining the photograph?"

Mango turned his head to the side and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "No, Purple. It was an accident. It was not your fault."

"But I tripped over a bucket and knocked it down! If I were more careful..."

"Everyone makes mistakes, you didn't mean it."

"But that was your only keepsake of Gold! It's so important to you, yet I ruined it! "

"...I am upset about the stain, yes. but what is done is done. Being angry at you doesn't reverse the damage."

"But...!"

"Purple, if there is one thing I learned from my mistakes as King, is not to let my own emotions get the better of me and to inflict unnecessary harm upon others. Especially those that I care about, like you." Mango's voice regained its strength. He looked at Purple with such impeccable sincerity that Purple almost believed him. And Purple wanted to believe him, but a voice inside them just kept screaming wrong wrong wrong.

Mango shouldn't forgive you, he should be mad, he has to be, because you are-

"Although there is something I want to know." Mango's voice interrupted Purple's train of thought, "Why did you cleaned up the house all by yourself? You know you can wait for me to come home so that we can do it together, right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry- you're right," Purple said quickly, "I shouldn't have...if I didn't mess around, I wouldn't have broken the photograph-"

"No, no, I'm not blaming you!" Mango held up his hands in a placating manner, "As a matter of fact, I should thank you. I don't remember the last time the house was so clean and tidy." He chuckled to himself. "I just wanted to know why you decided to do it. It's not an easy task to do after all."

"Be-because, I wanted to be useful for once..." Purple admitted quietly, "It's been two weeks since...well...you let me to stay with you even though you weren't hiring me anymore, and you've been so nice to me all this time, so I thought, cleaning your house is the least I could do to repay you for that..."

Mango inhaled. "Purple, you don't have to repay me for anything. I let you stay because I...because you're a good kid. I'm no longer your superior and you're no longer my lackey, I should never have treated you as one in the first place." Mango moved his chair forward and gently placed a hand on Purple's lap. The warmth in his gaze was reserved for them alone. "I don't expect you to do anything in my favour, because I care about your welfare more than mine. I wish you could do the same for yourself."

Purple took a second to register what Mango said. The elder stick figure's words sent streams of warmth through their torso and into their limbs, as if there was a tiny sun blooming inside Purple's body. Oh stick, Mango really cared about them, maybe even more than they ever dreamed of. Their whole body was warm with joy...

Useless. Weak. Pathetic. Failure.

Navy's voice rang at their ears, and suddenly the warmth was gone, a cold realisation set in. Purple lowered their head and discreetly shifted their legs away from Mango's touch. Mango must have noticed their sudden change in attitude. "...Kid, is something... did I say something wrong?" He inquired gingerly.

"MT...sir," Purple replied softly after a moment of silence, "You don't have to keep this up if you don't want to."

Mango blinked, looking surprised. "Wha-Kid, what are you talking about-"

"Sir, I know you're treating me well like this only because you're guilty of what you did to me in the past. I assure you there is no need for that." Purple looked down at their feet, trying their best to keep their tone levelled.

Mango's response didn't came immediately. When Purple timidly raised their head, it was to their mild surprise too see Mango's lower lip wobbling slightly, his expression was a mixture of shock and hurt. Then, it morphed into indignation. “Nonsense!" Mango raised his voice for the first time since their conversation. "Didn't you hear what I was trying say this whole time? I don't know what has gotten into your head all of a sudden-" Purple gritted their teeth at those words, "-but I certainly did not take you in because of guilt! I truly care about you from the bottom of my-"

"But why should you?! I'm of no use to you anymore!" Purple sprung to their feet, hands shaking.

"This isn't about-"

"I can't even get a single job done without breaking the one thing you value the most!"

"That's not-"

"Why're you still keeping me around? You should know I'm just a waste of space by now!"

"Enough!" Mango finally stood up, his face burning with rage."Why do you keep saying things like this?! What makes you think I would stop caring about you just because of your mistakes?! Can't you see how-"

"Because I'm not good enough!" These words made a daring escape out of Purple's lips before their brain could stop them. Tears obscured their vision, they couldn't see Mango's expression, but they didn't care, they just squeezed their eyes shut and kept on going.

"I-I'm weak, I'm useless, I'm a failure...I can't even g-get up on my feet when my dad ordered me to! "It felt like a cold, unforgiving hand had seized Purple's heart, tightening its grip painfully. But still, words tumbled out of their mouth like water pouring through the floodgates.

"If o-only I was strong enough, if only I was a be-better fighter, dad wouldn't have fed up with me and le-left me and mom behind, and, and if d-dad didn't left, then, then mom might still be alive right now! It's all my fault!" Tears streamed down Purple's cheeks as sobs wrack their body, it was as if they were once again the grief-stricken child standing in front of the freshly dug grave of their mother, helpless, vulnerable, alone.

"If I d-don't try hard en-enough, I'll just le-let everyone d-down, then no-no one would-“

“That’s not true!” A voice interrupted Purple’s lament. Green's arms were strong yet gentle, pulling Purple close with a reassuring steadiness, shielding them from the fierce winds on the top of the snowy mountain. "You don't always do the right thing, and you're not always as strong and capable as you want to be, but that's okay! As long as you are your true self, we would love you just the same."

Purple opened their eyes, the familiar warmth made them realise that Mango was holding them. They were both sitting on the floor, Mango's large, firm hand cradled the back of Purple's head, pressing it gently against his chest. Purple automatically leaned into the embrace, resting their head against Mango's broad and sturdy chest. The deep, steady rhythm of his heart beat thrummed against their ears, spreading through Purple's body like a calming wave. They could hear Mango breathing heavily right above them, with every exhale his breath came out wavering and unsteady.

"M..MT?"

"Please, enough...that's enough." Mango's voice was hardly more than a whisper, quivering with raw emotions.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell you all these things..." Purple sniffled, wiping their eyes furiously, their cheeks felt tight after crying so hard.

"No, Purple, I should be sorry, sorry for not connecting the dots earlier. I finally understood, everything makes sense now."

"W-What do you mean?"

Mango slowly and gently pulled away from the hug. Holding Purple's hand, he guided them to rise from the floor and settle on the mattress, himself following suit. Honey brown eyes met amethyst, a tender, sincere gaze that wrapped Purple up like a warm, fluffy blanket. "Purple, you need to know that none of what happened to you in the past was your fault. You shouldn't be burdened by those things."

Purple frowned, "How could you say that? My father left because of me, didn't he?"

"Oh Purple..."Mango sighed,"You're such a kind soul to think that way, but no. Definitely not. Your father set unrealistic expectations on you, and blamed you for not living up to them. This is extremely unfair." There was a noticeable edge to Mango's tone, as if he was struggling to contain his boiling anger.

"Unrealistic expectations?" Purple's head whipped towards Mango,"But I thought all parents wanted their children to be good fighters?"

"Well, yes, but not all of us would be such an a- I mean-"Mango took a deep breath, "-apparently, your father's way did more harm than good. At what age did your father start training you, may I ask?"

"Um...he started sparring with me since I was five."

"Five?!" Mango's hand was gripping the bed sheets so hard that it wrinkled. "Me and Gold still play fight with corn dogs when they were your age!"

A snicker broke the solemnity of the conversation, despite the previous emotional breakdown, Purple couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image."S-sorry, but really?" Purple's shoulders trembled with barely conceived laughter, "The King of the Nether, playing with corn dogs?"

Mango raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting such a reaction from Purple. But Purple's laughter was contagious, soon, Mango's eyes softened, and his lips curled into a grin.

"If you want we can do it as well someday, I know a guy that makes the best corn dogs."

But then his smile wavered, on the verge of fading, as his gaze grew distant and sorrowful, as if he was lost in a bittersweet memory. Purple knew he was thinking of Gold again.

"MT..." Driven by a newfound strength, they gingerly reached for Mango's hand, offering him a reassuring squeeze. Mango blinked, glancing down at his hand in mild surprise before turning back to Purple with a thankful smile, gently holding their hand in return.

"Purple, You...reminded me of Gold in some ways," He said softly. "You're both enthusiastic, curious, and always seeking my attention. But Purple, you are so much more than these similarities. You have a brilliant tactical mind, able to craft creative strategies that outsmart your opponents, " Mango tighten his grip on Purple's hand, "and what you did just now shows just how incredibly observant and compassionate you are. I'm sorry it took me so long to realise what a wonderful kid I've found, but now that I did, how could I not care about you?"

"But I..."

"Before you say anything, yes, I know you are not perfect, you are a real kid, not an emotionless machine. You are allowed to make mistakes, you are allowed to be vulnerable, and you are allowed to feel the way you do. I'm here to accept every part of you——your mistakes, your flaws, your insecurities and your trauma, and I'll keep supporting and caring for you until you are ready to open up to me. So, Purple, will you give me a chance?"

At that very moment, Purple recalled their mother's tender, sad smile as her frail hand gently touched their face before going limp in their grasp. They wondered if Orchid's spirit was still watching over them, and if it was she who blessed them with such a perfect parental figure, because fate could never be so kind. They tried to summon a response, but what words could possibly convey the depth of the emotions surging through their heart? So instead, Purple did what first came to their mind: they threw themselves towards Mango, wrapping their arms tightly around his neck. And Mango did not hesitate for a second to pull Purple into his arms, enveloping them in a firm but gentle hug only a father could offer. "Heh..." He croaked, "I'll take that as a yes."

Yet, one last question lingered in Purple's mind like a blemish on a smooth, clear surface, and they couldn’t be completely at peace until they got an answer.

"But...what if I start doubting myself again? What if something went wrong and-and I-sorry..." Purple bit their lips, trying to break free from Mango's hold." I...I just couldn't see myself as you see me..."

But Mango only hugged Purple tighter. "It's alright, healing isn’t an overnight process, it's a long journey that requires a lot of patience and support. Whenever doubts cloud your mind, I'll keep reminding you just how wonderful you are, and how much you mean to me, as many times as you need, until you believe it just as I do."

Mango paused, turning his ear towards the door, and smiled mysteriously. "And don't forget-" he released Purple, walked up to the door, and yanked the door open."-you have friends that care about you as well."

"Woah-!"

"What the-!"

"Ow-!"

With surprised yelps, five colourful sticks tumbled to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs.

"What the-!" Purple leaped up from the bed, blood rushing to their cheeks as they sputtered: "Why are- How did- Are you guys eavesdropping?!"

"Red get your fat ass off my- Sorry Purple! I tried to stop them but they just wouldn't listen!" Green explained hurriedly while trying to free himself from the others.

"Hey that not true!" Red shot back, "You were the one eavesdropping in the first place!

"What?!"

Yellow managed to get to his feet first, panting. "How did you know we're behind the door Ki- I mean Mr Tango?" He asked incredulously.

"Eh, I learned from experience." Mango sat back into his chair, a smug smile on his face.

"What does that mean-"

"-Anyway we're really sorry for eavesdropping you guys," Second gave Purple and Mango an apologetic look while helping Blue up, "but we were just worried..."

"Yeah," Blue added, "we heard shouting and we thought-"

"That's not an excuse for eavesdropping us!" Purple stomped the floor in exasperation, face as red as a plum.

"Don't worry!" Red flashed a toothy smile at Purple, "we didn't hear a thing!"

"Well except the part where you screamed you were a waste of space, and the part where-"

"Yellow you're not helping!" The others shouted in unison.

"I...you..!" At this point, Purple just wanted to disappear into thin air and never to be seen again.

"Alright alright," Mango stood up and placed a comforting hand on Purple's shoulder. "I understand you kids are concerned about Purple, but it's improper to listen in on our private conversation."

The five teenagers at least had the courtesy to look ashamed, their eyes fixed to the ground as they mumbled their apologies. Green, in particular, seemed the most uneasy. "Hey uh...Mr Mango? Sorry for talking to you like that earlier... I shouldn't have assumed that you were hurting Purple..." He stepped forward and bowed his head.

"I accept your apology," Mango said, patting Green on the shoulders and gesturing him to lift his head. "Although a bit rash, your protectiveness towards your friend is commendable."

"Yeah, thank you guys for...well...everything. I guess we do owe you an explanation for what happened between me and MT..." Purple scratched the back of their head, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

"Nah, it's fine, we're just glad that you guys are okay now!" Green gave a dismissive wave of his hand, the others nodded in agreement, smiling at Purple warmly.

Then, Yellow's expression brightened. "Hold on, is this the first time Mr Tango visited the PC?!" Hearing his words, the rest of the gang visibly perked up.

"Oh my gosh you're right! We should totally show him and Purple something cool!" Red chimed in, flapping his arms in excitement.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking-"

"Yes! Sec, grab Alan's pen!"

"On it!" And with that, as swift and sudden as a summer storm, the gang ran off into the desktop.

Green stopped abruptly at the door and turned around, bouncing at the spot and waving at both of them wildly. "Purple! Mr Tango! You gotta come and join us!"

Purple heard Mango chuckle right behind them."These kids..." He sighed fondly before looking down to meet Purple's gaze. "So? What do you think? Want to see what crazy shenanigans they're up to?"

Purple stared into those soft honey-brown eyes, and remembered his words. "Healing isn’t an overnight process, it's a long journey that requires a lot of patience and support." Right now, with Mango by their side and five amazing friends up ahead, Purple know that they will not travel this journey alone.

They smiled. "Of course!"

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Thank you very much for reading this fic! Although Alan gave Mango and Purple a happy ending at the end of AVM Ep.30, I doubt it would be smooth sailing concerning Purple's backstory. This kid really had a rough childhood, years of tryiing and failing the expectations of an overly strict parent and shouldering the weight of another parent's death must have lasting impacts on their mental health. Purple and Mango's relationship was like a thin piece of ice, and it does not take a boulder to break the ice and discover the surging current underneath. But thankfully, both of them have what it takes to strengthen the relationship and to heal from their past trauma: love, understanding, and the support from others.

P.S: I've never played Minecraft before so I apologise for any inaccuracies about the game.

P.P.S: 10 minutes later, "More faces" happened.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

203 notes View Post

hapsyno

7 months ago