In the name of revolution

Woops a daisy

Purpled trudges through the forest, Dogchamp trotting eagerly ahead, sniffing at every bush and tree in sight. The crisp air is refreshing after hours cooped up in his office, pretending to care about Quackity's endless meetings and paperwork. He hates it. Everything is too stuffy, too loud, too full of people who act like they know what they're doing when they obviously don't.

And then, of course, there is Dream. Because apparently the man just likes to insert himself into everything. He's been showing up at his house uninvited, playing up the loving brother act. It's starting to grate on his nerves, to be honest.

So here he is, trudging through the woods, keeping his dog close and ignoring all of his problems.

He straightens, becoming more alert as dogchamp suddenly tugs on the leash, leading them through the forest.

The forest opens up, revealing a steep ravine. Purpled glances down—searching for what it is dogchamp was leading them to. Below are the telltale signs of one tommyinnit having spent a large amount of time here.

He stares, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Well, this interesting."

Dogchamp barks happily, wagging his tail like he's solved a mystery.

"This is the second one of Wilbur's 'secret' bases you've led me to," Purpled mutters, scratching Dogchamp's head. "Good boy."

A voice rings out from below. "How the hell did you find this place?"

Purpled looks down to see Wilbur standing at the edge of the base, staring up at him with wild eyes. Behind him, Tommy is gawking, his mouth hanging open.

"You guys suck at hiding," Purpled calls down, his antennae twitching slightly, betraying his amusement.

Wilbur's expression sours immediately. "This is private property! You can't just—get down here right now!"

"Alright, alright, no need to yell." Purpled climbs down with the grace of someone who absolutely isn't supposed to be there but doesn't care.

Tommy, on the other hand, looks thrilled. "Oi, Purpled! Come check this out! We've got a sick setup here—way better than that stupid office you've been spending all your time in!"

"Tommy!" Wilbur snaps, but Tommy's already dragging Purpled around, showing off every corner of Pogtopia like it's his personal playground. (Which, to be fair, it sorta was.) Purpled follows him, happily that this was less boring than working.

So he comes back the next day.

And the next.

Finding it easy to ignore all his problems and hide out with his friend and his loser brother.

Purpled shows up again, this time with a shulker box, calmly unpacking a bed and some extra weapons.

"What are you doing?" Wilbur demands, his voice sharp. "We don't want you here!"

Purpled doesn't even look up. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not doing anything."

"What—yes, you are! You've been here for days! Now you're unpacking!" Wilbur's voice rises in frustration. "Take your stuff and leave!"

Purpled glances at him lazily. "No thanks."

Wilbur sputters, his face turning red as Purpled calmly continues setting up a makeshift workstation.

Days pass. Purpled makes himself at home. He visits Niki, chats with Tommy, and generally ignores every one of Wilbur's increasingly desperate attempts to get him to leave.

One day, while wandering the forest again, Purpled, unfortunately, runs into Dream.

Dream's mask tilts slightly as he greets him, his voice smooth but cold. "Purpled. Haven't seen you around much lately. Where've you been?"

"Working," Purpled says instantly, forcing a casual shrug.

"Really?" The smile stretched across the front of his mask seeming more fake and cold than ever. "Quackity says he hasn't seen you in days."

"Huh. That's weird." Purpled doesn't wait for Dream's response. He turns on his heel, walking briskly away with Dogchamp trotting at his side.