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cruisercrusher · 4 years

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Hey, I found your vibe

Hardcase finds out one of his favourite musical artists is a crappy person, so the others cheer him up while suggesting new music for him to listen to

word count: 1244

A clone wars modern au one shot, that fits into the broader modern au but I couldn’t find a place to insert it effectively so here:

“Hey, what’s up?” Ahsoka walks up to the group, noting how Hardcase is lying in the grass, gazing forlornly up at the sky.

“Hardcase is distraught,” Echo says as she sits down with her caf pasta.

“I’m inconsolable.” Hardcase says with a straight face, but doesn’t elaborate, and Ahsoka turns to the rest of the group for clarification.

“He just found out Doja Cat is a really gross person,” Jesse explains. “And now he has no music to vibe to.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Ahsoka says. Hardcase sighs, and Kix reaches over and pats him on the shoulder, one eye still on his textbook.

“We’re all trying to come up with music suggestions for him,” Rex says. Next to him, Anakin is pouting.

“They’re all roasting me for my suggestions.”

“Not everything is about you, Skywalker, but also, your suggestions were all bad.” Fives says. “Try thinking of something less white trash and also something Hardcase would actually listen to.”

Hardcase drapes his arm over his eyes. “What even is a ‘fallout boy’? I don’t know her.”

Anakin puffs up, rising to the bait almost laughably easily. “Fall out boy is literally one of the most—“

“I don’t know her. I’m too pretty.” Hardcase turns his head to look at Ahsoka. “Ahsoka, who’s your favourite artist?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I like, uh, girl in red?”

Hardcase considers this. “Hm… I don’t think I’m really girl in red’s target demographic.”

“What’s that band Bly loves?” Rex says. “Cavetown?”

“Cavetown does slap a little bit,” Hardcase says. “But it’s not the same vibe… I need music I can dance to but also dissociate to and also just vibe, you know? I have to be able to vibe.”

“What about Britney Spears?” Fives suggests, and Hardcase gives him a look.

“If you think I don’t already listen to Britney then you literally don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. Pretty sure we all listen to Britney.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Anakin says, because even he has at least one Britney song downloaded.

“I love Britney.” Echo pitches in, and Fives nods in agreement.

“Britney is an icon. When I say I hate celebrities Britney is not included in that statement.” Rex says. “What about Todrick Hall? You could make his music your main thing.”

“Hey, yeah,” Hardcase reaches for his phone. “Speaking of gay icons. He put out a new album recently, tons of songs on it, lots of bops, some bangers if you will. I’m upset though, because one of the songs on there that slaps the most is featuring Rupaul, and I hate Rupaul.”

“What’s wrong with Rupaul?” Ahsoka asks.

“He’s one of those people who was progressive in the nineties but have either seriously regressed since then, or have just lost touch and not noticed that the people he paved the way for have completely left him in the dust.” Rex explains. “And won’t or can’t catch up.”

“And also he’s irritating.” Jesse interjects. “I just don’t understand the ego on that man.”

“He wouldn’t last a day on his own show. Did you know Rupaul can’t sew? Clown behaviour.” Hardcase scrolls through something on his phone, then snickers. “Rupaul stopped being a gay icon when he invested in oil fracking.”

“Oil fracking,” Kix mutters with contempt. “I hate his laugh. Like, that laugh he does? Can’t stand it.”

Ahsoka nods. “Ah, I see. Yeah, oil fracking is… not great.”

“So Rupaul isn’t on the table,” Anakin says.

“Rupaul isn’t even in the dining room.”

“Right, what about, uh, that girl who was in fifth harmony but left? Her new music?”

“Ew, Camilla Cabello?” Echo answers for Hardase. “Sorry, I thought we said no more hetero garbage suggestions.”

Anakin looks offended. “No, the other one! Normandy?”

“Normandy is a place in France, idiot, you’re thinking of Normani.” Rex says, and Hardcase’s eyes widen.

“Normani! Yeah! I loved her debut solo single, I should see what else she’s got.”

“Wait,” Jesse says, “I thought Normandy was in the Netherlands?”

“What?” That finally gets Kix to look up from his note taking. “Are you serious? No, Normandy is in France. Remember, invasion of Mormandy, D Day, world war two? We learned this.”

“Mormondy?”

“That’s where the mormons live.”

“That’s where Stephanie Meyer is from.”

“I’m tired, don’t come for me.”

“Normandy does sound like it could be a place in the Netherlands, though.”

“Mr. Kenobi would be disappointed in you.”

“No!” Jesse cries, turning his distraught face to Anakin. “Would Mr. Kenobi be disappointed in me for forgetting Normandy is in France?”

“Probably not.”

“I don’t think he would be.” Ahsoka says. “Obi-Wan is nice. He’d just say something like he’s glad that you’re learning.”

“Phew,” Jesse feigns wiping sweat off his brow. “That was a close one.”

“Fetts be like, seeking the validation from Mr. Kenobi we don’t get from our father noises.” Echo says, and his brothers around him wince.

“Oof, too real, Echo.” Rex says.

“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you can just say it.”

“Wait, oh my gosh, moment of inspiration--” Fives sits forward, look of pure revelation on his face. “Hardcase, you know who I think you would totally vibe with?”

“Who?”

“Jojo Siwa.”

“Jojo Siwa?”

“Jojo Siwa.”

“Jojo Siwa?”

“Jojo Siwa.”

“Hm.” Hardacse considers this.

“Isn’t Jojo Siwa that girl with the glittery bows and shit?” Anakin asks.

“Jojo Siwa is actually really cool.” Ahsoka says. “I follow her on tiktok. She encourages young girls to, I don’t know, let themselves act like the kids they are? She’s like the only person on the planet not telling twelve year old girls to throw it back. And she’s genuinely funny and seems really nice… yeah. Also, her outfits are literally so cool.”

“Oh my gosh, yeah,” Hardcase says, tilting his phone so the rest of the group can see. “Look at this alien costume thing whatever from this music video, I’d go so far as to call this club kid revival. Girl’s got hella style.”

“Wow,” Anakin says, “I can’t believe a twelve year old has way cooler style than all of us.”

“Jojo Siwa is our age.” Rex informs him. Anakin blinks.

“What?”

“Yeah, she’s seventeen.” Fives says. “Anyways, I don’t know why but I really think you’d vibe with Jojo Siwa, Hardcase.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hardcase says. “Hold on, let’s listen to some of her music.” He pulls up her spotify and queues some of her newest releases, then turns the volume up on his phone and tosses it onto the grass in the middle of their huddle.

An upbeat, funky tune starts playing from the phone’s speaker, and all eight of them lean forward in attentive silence as they listen to the song.

‘Bop bop, twist twist, check it off your checklist, chug chug kick it, move it move it mix it--’

“Wow, Jojo is slaying on this track,” Jesse says after a minute. “Queen icon legend.”

“She’s killing it. Go, Jojo!”

“Yeah, I’m digging this actually.” Hardcase shimmies a little to the beat. “Thanks, Fives!”

“I live to serve.” Fives smiles. “Sorry your favourite artist turned out to be a terrible person.”

Hardcase shrugs. “Eh, it’s alright. I stan Jojo Siwa now. Life is good.”

“To stanning Jojo Siwa!” Ahsoka holds up her milk carton in a toast. Hardcase, who has no drink to toast with, just grins and lightly slaps the carton. They laugh, and the sun smiles down on them, and life is good.

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infinity-and-luck · 5 years

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1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50

Once again, I apologise that this is long.

1: Do you ever wish you were someone else?

- Maybe? At least I wish I were different, sometimes.

2: What is your full name?

- Percival Michael William (Last name)

3: How old are you and how old do you get mistaken for?

- 17, and however old you are to be given the kid’s menu at restaurants.

4: Have you ever dyed your hair?

- I dyed it a more golden shade of blonde for my Enjolras cosplay for Halloween last year, and I’m thinking of dying it navy sometime next year.

5: What’s your eye colour?

- Blue/Grey/Green.

6: Your opinion about your body and how comfortable you are with it?

- I have quite a few things I don’t like about it.

7: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?

- I have my ears pierced, but I never wear anything, so they’ve almost completely closed.

8: What would you say is your best quality?

- I don’t think I can judge that.

9: What are you really bad at?

- I’m gay, therefore I can’t do math (as proven by the math test I took today)

10: What talent do you wish you had?

- I would love to be able to sing.

11: Are you nice to everyone?

- No, and I feel bad about it too. I’m working on it though.

12: What do you think about the most?

- The future.

13: Things you like/dislike about yourself

- A lot in both categories.

14: What is your least favourite word?

- I don’t know if I have one.

15: What is your favourite word?

- Hmmm. I don’t know. There are so many.

16: Are you more like your mom or your dad?

- I look like a clone of my mom, but personality-wise I’m more like my dad. Politics-wise I am completely different.

17: Would you ever smile at a stranger?

- Depends on the stranger.

18: A reason you’ve lied to someone

- To keep myself safe.

19: Are you lying about anything right now?

- I don’t think I’ve ever been fully honest at any point in time.

20: Have you kissed someone older than you?

- Family members, but otherwise I’ve never kissed anyone.

21: Do you believe in love at first sight?

- Attraction at first sight, maybe.

22: Do you believe in soulmates?

- Maybe.

23: Are looks important?

- To a society? No.

24: Opinion on relationship age differences

- I mean, if they’re both consenting adults then I guess?

25: Would you date someone off the Internet?

- I wouldn’t date anyone.

26: Have you ever cried over a boy/girl?

- No.

27: Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

- Fictional characters.

28: Anyone you’re giving up on right now?

- No?

29: Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

- No.

30: Have you ever liked your best friend?

- I mean, yes, I like all of my friends, otherwise, we wouldn’t be friends. If you mean romantically, then no.

31: How does someone win your heart?

- Talk to me.

32: What turns you on?

- I have a switch on the side of my head, you have to flick it so it says ‘on’

33: What turns you off?

- Flicking that same button so it says ‘off’

34: Do you get jealous easily?

- Yeah.

35: What is your definition of cheating?

- Getting together with another person without your partner’s previous consent, without prior discussion with your partner, and without their knowledge.

36: Do you forgive betrayal?

- I don’t think I’ve been betrayed yet.

37: Have you ever been cheated on?

- No.

38: Have you ever cheated on someone?

- No.

39: How often do you listen to music?

- Constantly.

40: First concert you attended

- I forget what it was, but it was at the Houston Rodeo.

41: Last movie you watched

- Spiderman: Far From Home

42: Favorite type of movie

- Ooh. Tough one. I suppose any kind (bar Westerns) where there are good characters.

43: Is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about?

- I mean, I kind of hate talking about myself in general (I say, answering fifty questions about myself and regularly asking for more questions)

44: Are you good at hiding your feelings?

- I’m good at bottling them up.

45: Do you fall in love easily?

- No.

46: Do you think people say I love you too much?

- On the contrary, I don’t think they say it enough.

47: What’s your favourite holiday?

- Halloween.

48: Are you a forgiving person? Do you like being that way?

- It depends. I tend to fluctuate between forgiving or holding a grudge. I don’t know, man, I don’t know.

49: Where’s the most magical place on earth?

- My bedroom late at night. (That sounds so dirty; it’s not)

50: What’s your “type”?

- I mean, romantic-type? I don’t have one. But friend-type? I have made three friends at three different schools who all fit the exact same mould: girls who are two years older than me, play DnD, do theatre, make amazing art, are giant nerds, and are the coolest people ever. And whose names start with the letter “a”

#Thank you!#In which Percival gets an ask!

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amaanogawa · 6 years

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honestly i can’t communicate enough how much i enjoyed season 7.

it’s quieter than season 6 was. not as emotional, or as up front with the relationship development. no one kissed. no one cried i love you amidst a ruined planet full of evil clones. but god was it fierce in its subtlety.

i feel like the characters were really fleshed out during this season. everyone finally feels like they’ve settled into their true positions and this was the first season in which i really felt like they were a team, and more than that, a true found family. hunk realized that there’s true strength in fear, allura is learning to trust again while continuing to do things no one else can, pidge continues to amaze in intellect and bravery, keith has learned to let his guard down and stepped into the leadership role like he finally fits in his own skin. lance in particular really impressed me. he has not only worked past his inferiority complex to be able to see his own intrinsic worth, but also relearned much of his toxic behaviour towards women and has begun to treat the woman he loves with respect and admiration as an equal.

and shiro. oh, shiro.

i’m biased because shiro is my favourite character possibly of all time much less in the series, but what an amazing story. i won’t lie, there’s a part of me that still wishes he wasn’t forced to retire as a paladin of voltron. but this character is so special to me and i could go on for ages about why, much of which has already been covered by numerous people more eloquent than i. all i will say is that he transcends boundaries and represents so much of people’s pain and traumas, and after this he will represent their hope as well. hope that you can emerge triumphant and confident and strong after being broken down to nearly nothing. hope that you are only defined by what you want to define you, and you can also be all of the above. you can be vulnerable, be weak, be saved, be lost, be scared, be hurt, but you can also stand as a leader that everyone has unfailing faith in. you can be brave. you can be strong. you can be loved, dearly, for everything that you are.

no work is perfect and while voltron is far from it, i think we’re all due for a little positivity to focus on what we’ve received rather than what we haven’t.

#i'm so emo on main but i truly love this show from the bottom of my heart #and i wanted to share even a little bit of that love despite what can sometimes be very overwhelming negativity surrounding vld #voltron #voltron season 7 #vld #voltron season 7 spoilers #long post

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lessattitudemorealtitude · 6 years

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Rules: List ten of your favourite characters in ten diffrent fandoms and then tag ten other victims to do the same!

Why the hell not? I need to procrastinate. I was tagged by @rebelsfromstars. This list actually took me a bit because I don’t actually consume a wide variety of fandoms. I usually chose one then obsess over it for years. I cheated a bit by splitting out the various Star Wars fandoms.

1) Buffy: The Vampire Slayer - Angel/Spike

Angel is my favorite while he’s around, then Spike became my favorite. I love my emotionally conflicted brooding men. Angel continues to be my favorite in his spin-off show. And of course, his and Spike’s relationship in season 5 is to die for.

2) Firefly - Simon Tam

Simon is a beautiful human being who would do anything for his little sister and it warms my heart every time.

3) Star Trek - Spock

No character in any of the Star Trek series/movies has ever overcome my love for Spock. When I watched Wrath of Khan, I cried for like an hour afterward. Thank goodness this was years after the movies came out so I was able to watch the next movie almost immediately.

4) Supernatural - Sam Winchester

I like my tall, dark, brooding, emotionally conflicted men. Even if he is an idiot/asshole/bitch on a regular basis.

5) Avatar: The Last Airbender - Prince Zuko

Um... have I mentioned I have a thing for conflicted characters? Zuko 100% fits that bill. And of course, his entire story arc is probably one of the best ever written.

6) Star Wars: The Original Trilogy - Luke Skywalker

Honestly, I think this is just spillover from my childhood. I watched this trilogy a million times as a small child, and I desperately wanted to be a Jedi. I don’t know if he’d still be my favorite if I didn’t watch the trilogy until I was an adult. Luke is pretty whiny for the first two movies. I would have probably preferred Leia just for her sheer level of competence and the fact that she takes crap from no one.

7) Star Wars: The Current Trilogy - Kylo Ren

Again, dark and conflicted (though I think less conflicted since the end of TLJ). I know he’s basically evil and twisted, and at this point, I’m not looking for a redemption arc. I just find him to be by far the most interesting character in the new trilogy.

8) Star Wars: The Prequels - Obi Wan Kenobi

This is probably because he’s one of the best actors (of the main characters) on the screen and has the best story line overall, but the snark definitely helps.

9) Star Wars: The Clone Wars - Anakin Skywalker

This was a hard one, and I almost picked Ahsoka. But as much as she’s a badass and I love her, I just don’t quite have the same level of affection for her as I do Anakin, despite his flaws. TCW really fleshed him out in all the right ways and made me love him. His pain and struggles when dealing with his past, when Obi Wan ‘died’, when Ahsoka leaves... it gave him context that made Prequel-Anakin not only more understandable but more enjoyable to watch.

10) Star Wars: Rebels - Caleb Dume AKA Kanan Jarrus

It’s funny because I usually latch on to characters who are emotionally conflicted (obviously), so I initially thought I was going to love Ezra. I do, but not as much as I do Kanan.

Frankly, he’s probably one of my favorite fictional characters ever. Definitely in the entire Star Wars universe. He is the self-made Jedi, and in a way, one of the best examples of a Jedi we have. He has been tempted by the dark side once in his entire life. When he was fourteen at the Third Battle of Mygeeto, he watched a dear friend die and let the dark side take over as he tried to avenge him. But even though he wasn’t able to put a name to what he was feeling, he realized that it was wrong and it would only be a pyrrhic victory. He is able to have a family and attachments without ever letting them consume him. He takes a traumatized child off the streets and helps guide him to becoming a true Jedi in just a few years.

Also, never have I cried so hard for a character. I cried over Spock for an hour? Try every day for almost two weeks for Kanan... (Probably because he never comes back... T^T)

I could honestly go on for pages and pages, but I think I’ve made my opinions on Kanan very clear on this blog :P

I really don’t feel like tagging ten people... just do it if you want! It’s fun :D

#star wars #star wars rebels #star wars the clone wars #avatar last airbender #supernatural #star trek #firefly #buffy the vampire slayer

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ieatbooksfortea · 6 years

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Merry Christmas, @psychotic-author !! Here’s your Secret Santa gift! I’m so sorry that you got me - I kind of lean towards the bittersweet in my writing! I hope it’s not too sad for you. It’s not explicitly climbing class but I definitely left it open to interpretation ;)

So, without further ado...

THE BOX

The box has been sitting on Chris' bedroom floor for a week. He's looked at it a couple of times, staring it down, daring it to do something, to be something. To morph into a twisting, human eating monster. To devour him.

But it doesn't. It just sits there. Lonely, dusty and obvious. It sticks out. It doesn't fit in with the rest of room. It's not supposed to.

It's like an eerie presence, breathing down Chris' neck, always making him aware of it as soon as he walks in the room.

The box filled with Josh Washington.

He'd received it a day after his best friend's funeral. A cardboard box cradled in the arms of Melinda Washington, delivered with the bubbling words of, “He'd want you to have them.”

He should have hugged her then. Said something reassuring, that Josh didn't suffer, that he's in a better place. Instead, Chris had just felt numb. He'd felt numb as he'd reached forward and let the box thump into his arms.

He feels numb now.

The unopened box eyes him from across the room.

Chris stares back.

In a crack of frustration, he strides towards it, hoisting it into his arms and dropping it onto the bed. It bounces with a soft thump. Chris falls down beside it.

He twists his fists once, daring himself to will some sort of confidence into his limbs, before he peels open the cardboard lid.

Sitting on the top of a pile of Josh's things is a stray of pencils.

Chris lets out a choked laugh from the back of his throat. He picks one up, flicking it between his fingers. The yellow and black paint is peeling off at one end where it has been incessantly chewed.

“Hey,” Josh nudged Chris in the side mid-lecture about Ancient Egyptians. Mr Garrett wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic of history teachers.

“What?” Chris hissed at his best friend, halfway through his notes about Tutankhamun. Probably about sixty percent of them were historically inaccurate. He'd stopped listening to his teacher.

Josh leaned in, muttering low. “Can I borrow a pencil?”

Chris' head had whipped up. “Another one?” He'd eyed his best friend incredulously, half scoffing, half laughing. “What happened to the one from last lesson?”

Josh had just shrugged smoothly. And before Chris could object or oblige, Josh had reached forward and snatched the pencil from Chris' hand – cutting the word hieroglyphics short – and had begun doodling at the side of his own paper.

“Hey!” Chris had gawked.

Just as Mr Garrett had decided to become a real teacher – and gave Chris detention.

“So this is where all those pencils went, huh?” Chris chuckles to himself, reaching into the box and scooping them all into his fist before letting them stream over his duvet. All of them have been nibbled at their ends.

He'll keep them. Just in case he can preserve Josh's saliva for when scientists can finally clone people from DNA. Maybe then he'll be able to get his best friend back.

With a deep breath, he reaches further into the box. His hand encloses around a broken, Playstation Three controller. The insides of it rattle as he lifts it out.

“Oh, you are going down!” Josh laughed manically at the wide screen television, thumbs wrestling wildly with the controller's analog sticks. Mario zoomed around the track with Toad skidding close behind.

“We'll see about that,” Chris muttered under his breath, focused intensely on the screen, biting down on his bottom lip as he wildly soared Toad around the track.

The finish line glimmered in the distance, shimmering in the virtual wind.

Josh let out a bark of laughter as Mario raced for it.

Chris thumbed his controller just as Toad threw a blue shell. The shell skimmed across the screen, resoundingly colliding with the back of Mario's kart in a victorious thump.

Josh yelled in horror and Chris laughed triumphantly as Toad slid easily past his competitor, roaring past him and through the finished line.

“Damn it!” Josh growled, all the other characters driving past the simmering, smoking Mario, watching him go from first into last place. In a fit of rage, he stood up and hurled the controller across the room.

It collides with the floor in a crack.

Chris' eyes flickered to Josh, who glanced back at him wildly.

“Oops?” The latter shrugged, a nervous smile tugging at his face.

And they immediately split into laughter.

The analog stick hangs loosely out of the controller like an eyeball out of its socket, the plastic cracking along the side. Chris weighs it in his palm, almost hearing the cries and joys of Josh once again, daring his best friend to another game. His thumbs twitch over the buttons. Memories haunt his ears and build up in his head. A ball of pressure.

He drops the controller onto his duvet. He can't handle that right now.

His hand fumbles to grab the next object. It comes out in a form of cluttered, ticket stubs.

A familiar smile spreads across Chris' lips as he spreads them out in his fingers. All cinema tickets to see old, classic horror movies. Psycho, Silence of the Lambs, The Wicker Man. Josh had collected them every time he visited the old theatre down the street. It's one of those classic theatres with Victorian architecture and peeling paint. The money it saved from not doing renovations didn't however go into its movie choices.

It could never afford to show the new movies – so it became known as the Classics Theatre. The place for movie nerds and classics purists.

It was Josh's favourite place.

He dared to share it with Chris.

Josh pocketed the ticket stub as they strode out of the familiar, echoing theatre, the look of pure bliss on his features. He clearly lived for this.

“Okay, but the witch clearly didn't exist. They were just luring her in to kill her themselves. It was all for show,” Josh jeered enthusiastically, darting his eyes towards Chris.

“Sure, Josh,” Chris muttered. “I get it, you've seen Blair Witch a thousand times.”

“But that's not the point-”

Chris had been distracted throughout the whole movie. It didn't matter that he'd only seen The Blair Witch Project twice – compared to Josh's hundred times. It didn't really matter that he'd only vaguely remembered the plot line.

What mattered was that, at the beginning of the movie, he'd caught a flash of red hair and eager, excited eyes and it had snatched him away. And all he'd been thinking about through the whole time that Heather, Mike and Josh were being spooked through a fictional forest, was the identity of the girl with red hair and alive eyes.

“Chris?” Josh nudged him in the side.

Chris blinked, shaking himself out of whatever trance he'd been in.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, shuffling uncomfortably. He'd forgotten he was in the lobby of the theatre with his best friend. “What did you say?”

Josh, eyes frustrated and bewildered, unhooked his jaw.

“Excuse me,” a feminine, lilting voice called out behind them.

Josh's jaw clicked back into place.

Chris spun around instantly, Josh begrudgingly following.

And there she stood. A flash of curling, red hair tucked under a snug hat, hands fidgeting with each other as she was plucking up courage to speak. Chris felt his mouth go dry and wonder.

Her own mouth danced, opening once before closing then finally opening again to speak.

“I saw you were watching the same movie as I was-” Her eyes fluttered over to Chris' once, cheeks barely pink, before they landed back on Josh.

She'd spotted him too. The girl with the red hair and alive eyes. Chris reminds himself to breathe.

“And I was hoping- well- can I have your ticket stub? See, I lost mine in the cinema and I like to keep a hold of them, you know, as memories or something. It's stupid, but could I maybe have yours?-”

“I'm keeping mine,” Josh grumbled shortly, clutching protectively onto his pocket where his ticket lay.

The girl with the red hair let out a little, weak sigh. “Oh,” she breathed out, smiling sadly. “That's okay. I wasn't expecting you to-”

“You can have mine,” Chris snapped quickly, stabbing his ticket stub out to her. It was half crumpled from when he'd planned to throw it in the garbage. He's glad he kept it.

Her eyes lit up. They danced over to his.

“Thank you,” she sounded so genuinely happy that he couldn't help but smile back. She clutched it to her chest in enthusiasm and gratitude.

If only he'd noticed then the growling expression on Josh's face, he'd have learned to stop smiling.

Chris lets the ticket stubs flutter down around him. Guilt simmers in the bottom of his stomach like acids. He supposes that was the moment he'd stopped noticing. Stopped caring how Josh was. Always supposing he was just fine.

He can't blame Ashley. It's not her fault for being the one distracting him from his best friend. He'd become so enraptured by her, with the need to know her, that it had stopped being Chris and Josh and had started being Chris and Ashley.

Chris and Ashley studying.

Chris and Ashley going to see a movie.

Chris and Ashley pretending that none of those times were dates.

And there had been no more space in his life for his best friend. He'd crammed it so full of other things that he'd forgotten to keep the Josh sized space free.

The frustrated huff at the back of his throat sounds more like a sob. He inhales sharply and grabs the next item from the box. It comes out in the form of a cracked photo frame. It lands in Chris' lap with a weighty thump.

Chris stares back at himself, the boy in the picture wild and happy, his arm slung around his best friend. Josh grins back, cheeks rosy and arm slung up above Chris' head, proudly giving him bunny ears. His face is obscured by a deep, gouging crack in the glass.

It splits Josh's body apart.

Chris stares at it, knuckles white as he grips onto each side of the photo frame.

This is who they are.

A boy who's lost his best friend. A boy who could have saved his best friend if only he'd noticed he was falling apart.

His thumb runs down the crack, the glass almost nipping at his skin.

Now the crack is too deep that there's no saving him anymore.

A shuddering breath thunders from Chris' throat. His eyes threaten to cry.

He hates crying, it clouds up his glasses.

With an inhale of breath, he rests the photograph beside him on the bed, already cluttered with things that belonged to Josh, and dips his hand back into the box.

His fingers graze against cardboard. The bottom of the box.

He'd expected so much more. Something more poignant, more harrowing. Something worthy of the ominous feeling it's been haunting Chris with this whole week.

Instead, it's just nothingness. Trinkets of his best friend's life.

Then, just as his hand is drawing out of the box, his fingers collide with something cold and angular in the corner of the box.

Latching onto it as if it's his last hope, Chris pulls it out.

There, balancing on his palm, is a black, rectangular VHS tape. It rattles as if it holds a hoard of secrets.

Chris stares at it for a moment, weighing up the possibilities of what it holds. A last will and testament? A state secret that will instantly self destruct as soon as it is played? The last remaining moments of Josh's life.

Instead, as Chris slides the tape into his old VHS player a moment later – the one Josh had convinced him to keep – it crackles into the shape of a chubby cheeked, twelve year old Chris.

“Three, two, one, action!”

Chris thumps down onto the plush, living room carpet, staring at the television. His eyes feel heavy and transfixed.

His younger self stares dramatically back at him, glasses slipping down his nose and lips threatening to twitch. Josh's unbroken voice calls out from behind the camera, crisp and already the mimic of his father; “In a far away land was a peaceful village.” The camera pans choppily around younger Chris, the handiwork of an inexperienced Josh, “In that village lived a lonely boy called Chris. Little did he know that his world would change in an instant when he'd be attacked by a dragon!”

Beth bursts onto the screen, pouncing onto Chris' back in full, amateur dragon mode. Feathers string from her hoodie in an attempt at wings. Chris, seated on his living room floor, a full six years older, laughs. He feels as if he's looking back through a portal.

“But Chris had hope! Because on the horizon he saw his saviour!” Josh's voice coughs victoriously. “His best friend, Josh Washington!”

The camera jerks suddenly.

“Beth. Hold the camera,” Josh hisses behind the screen, the camera bumping and scraping as it's shoved over to her.

“But I'm the dragon!” She whines, stomping her foot. The camera tumbles as she catches it, rumbling with it before scanning it back over to a reunited Chris and Josh. She grumbles behind the screen.

Chris smiles as he watches his younger self. His chest warms. He pretends he's not crying.

“Never fear! I'll save you!” Suddenly, Josh – clad in a black hoodie instead of the traditional shining armour – brandishes a fake sword already covered in blood. Younger Chris' glasses almost fall off. Josh sweeps with his sword through the air towards the camera, victoriously singing the JAWS theme tune.

Beth's disembodied voice screeches as she pretends to die.

Young Chris yelps out in victory.

Josh beams proudly, staring at his best friend for a beat too long and then flinging his gaze over to the camera.

Then a door swings open in the background and Hannah, black hair swishing with her, pokes her head out. “Mom says it's time for dinner!”

Josh groans. Beth shrieks with glee. Young Chris' glasses finally fall off.

And the screen fizzles to black.

The smile drips from Chris' face.

The silence feels like reality slamming back in. It was a stupid, little movie. One of many they'd made as children, cultivating Josh's dream to become a director. And this is what Josh has left him. A reminder of his failure.

Grabbing the remote, Chris presses the rewind button, watching his childhood figures squirm backwards in between streaked lines. He can't help but wish he could rewind life like this. Skip over the parts he regrets the most, start over. Tell Josh that he's not alone.

Tell Hannah not to run into the forest.

Never go to the mountain in the first place.

Chris stabs the pause button. The screen flickers over the moment that Josh whips out his sword, dashes in at the right moment, saves the day.

And Chris wasn't there to do that for him. Not for the moment Josh needed him most.

Not for when Josh was tied up in the barn.

Not for when they were climbing up the mountain to the lodge.

Not for when he should have noticed the illness. It was stealing away his best friend, how could he have been so blind?!

Chris lets out a cursed growled and collapses his face into his knees. And with his right hand, he fumbles from the controller, feels for the rewind button and skirts the video back to the start.

Then, with a breath, he presses play.

And listens to his best friend alive once more.

Josh Washington lifts his head, groggy with drunkenness. It’s been seven days since Chris’ funeral. Through bleary, hooded eyes he stares across his room. The box has been sitting on Josh's bedroom floor for a week.

#UDSS #climbing class ish #multiverse #until dawn #josh washington #christopher hartley #until dawn chris

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the-aquilanian-noise · 7 years

Text

Greg’s Universes- Chapter 1

(NOTE: This story is an AU, set before the events of the recent Stevenbomb. Also, Tom references @plainolddope‘s OC, Greg’s twin brother. It is his fault that this story exists in the first place so go blame him ;p )

4,403 words

‘Well this just isn’t fair…’ Greg muttered, as he stood alone on the ‘It’s A Wash!’ tarmac. It had been quiet recently. Far too quiet for his taste. He didn’t NEED to wash cars anymore, his royalty cheque had seen to that, but it gave him something to do. Structure to a life that was otherwise… ‘Boring’ Greg said out loud, walking over slowly to his favourite deck chair. It had been a slow morning, followed by a slow afternoon. The lazy sunset made it clear that it was transitioning into a slow evening. Hardly anyone had been by, and Greg had been left with only his thoughts for company. And their focus on Rose made them poor companions.

What was worse, Steven hadn’t been around for a while, livening up the place with his laughter alone. (‘Probably yet another mission…’ thought Greg, before suppressing the thought of WHAT the mission could be…) Even if it wasn’t for very long at a time, his son’s presence made things a lot better. He was afraid to admit it, but he was… lonely. As much as he loved the other residents of Beach City, they all had their own lives and loved ones. But for him… all of that felt very distant now. And any time he had alone just reminded him of that fact.

With a sigh, lowering himself down into the deckchair, he thought about going to sleep. At least in his dreams his thoughts fled away, didn’t remind him of the quiet. Yes, that would work. Give him some way to pass the early evening, before returning to his van to pass the rest. Greg raised his large hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn, as he relaxed himself a little. If he was lucky, maybe when he next opened his eyes Steven would be there too. That made the yawn move into a smile, as he imagined showing Steven the right frets to strum on the guitar, his eyes closing on that peaceful thought…

BANG

Greg sprung awake, his hair almost standing on end. He wasn’t sure how long he had been out, though the sun had dipped far enough that the shadows were stretching far back, as if they were dark fingers clawing at the walls of the car wash. And it was from there the banging noise originated, Greg realised. Nervously, Greg got himself up, hoping beyond hope that he was hearing things.

BANG

There it was again! He couldn’t shrug that one off, as much as he wanted to. Someone was moving around the Car Wash office, and making a mess of it by the sounds of it. Trying to keep his breath modulated, Greg picked up the closest thing on hand he could use as a weapon... which was a length of unplugged hose. For a second Greg could only sigh. He lived a life surrounded by aliens with their high tech Gem weaponry, and all he had to fall back on was a hose pipe. Then the noises started again, and Greg held it close. Any port in a storm, after all…

Greg approached the Car Wash door, opening it and looking in. It was dark, reflecting the gradual approach of dusk. He could just about make out that some things had been knocked over- invoices, bottles of soda (‘Wait, knocked over or drunk?’) and even a few chairs. As he peered through the glass door observing this, the door at the back of the office swing shut. His heart skipped a beat. ‘Come out! I have a… hose head?’ Greg said, a clear quavering in his tone. ‘Heavy hose head!’ He quickly added. Silence answered him. ‘Calm down Mr Universe… You don’t want to lose any of what remains of your hair through stress. Probably just a cat’ He heard the tinkling sound of a lot of cutlery falling to the floor. ‘A… large cat? Lion?’ Greg whispered, almost inaudibly. No response came, other than another few muffled crashes. Someone was in the break room.

Greg crept reluctantly forward into the building, holding the hose out as the closest thing he had to a weapon, for all the good it would do him. As delicately as he could manage with his large frame, he edged his way through the room, avoiding the pitfalls that its recent occupant had already tripped through. He knew he should phone the police, but how long would they take? And if his wash invader was Onion, he didn’t want ANOTHER charge of breaking and entry put on the kids’ permanent record… God knew that Vidalia didn’t need that right now. So, with trepidation, he slowly edged the door to the break room open, pressing the handle in just the right way to prevent it creaking. Then had to stop himself gasping.

It was a man, rooting around in his fridge! Greg couldn’t see much- the blinds were down, and the only real illumination was the fridge’s own backlight, which only served to make the man appear even broader. And indeed, he appeared to be quite chubby, with long hair braided into some kind of ponytail. The figure was hopping up and down a little… Maybe he had stubbed himself on the chairs he had knocked over? Then Greg realised- the man’s feet were bare. Worse than that, so were his legs! With a start, Greg processed that his would-be thief was dressed in a white loincloth and a dark blue waistcoat. Whoever had broken into the Car Wash had taken his clothes from the Human Zoo! (‘Hadn’t I burned them?’ he thought to himself ‘I mean I thought I had… maybe I got too distracted by my new jean shorts…’) And, annoyingly Greg had to admit, the intruder looked good in them; the fabric of the loincloth seemed to fit really well around the curves of his thighs, flowing in a way he was sure it never had on him. He shook his head out of this reverie- there was a stranger raiding his fridge!

‘Hey, stop that right now!’ Greg said, in his sternest voice possible, throwing open the break room door. The man froze, even ceasing his hopping as he crouched a little. ‘This… this is private property you know! I’ll call the police, if you don’t stop what you’re doing, and uh… leave!’

A pause. Greg tried to remain calm, as he brandished the hose in the closest to a threatening manner he could manage. Nothing happened for a heartbeat, as Greg and the mysterious man held still in silence. Then, with exaggerated care, the man turned around, his long, braided ponytail swinging loose as he did so. For a moment, Greg couldn’t see anything due to the glare of the neon fridge lighting. And then, suddenly, they were face to face. And not just any face. It was Greg’s own face staring back at him!

‘ARRRRGGGGH!’ Greg yelled.

‘EEEEEEEEKKKK!’ the other Greg squealed, dropping a plate containing leftover pizza.

The two stared at one another. Greg tilted his head. The other Greg’s eyes widened in fear. (‘Ok, not a mirror monster… that’s something?’ Greg thought) His… blue eyes. Identical to Greg’s own. Same bald patch. Same beard. Same farmer’s tan. Even the same slight bulge in the nose, from when it got broke as he left home as a teenager. It was as if he was facing his twin again, but a twin who had lived his life.

‘Uhhhh… I’m… not going to hurt you… me?’ Greg said, in as calm a tone he could manage. ‘Oh boy…’ He put down the hose he was almost brandishing. ‘See? Everything’s going to be a-ok…’

‘… Wait, this is a dream right?’ the other Greg said, shaking his head nervously. ‘But why would I be dreaming about myself? The food I understood, but another me…’ Suddenly the other Greg reached out and poked Greg in the stomach, giving it a quick wobble

‘Hey!’ Greg said indignantly, but the other Greg was already back to talking.

‘You feel real, though wait, would I be able to tell the difference in a dream? But if this isn’t a dream, where am I? A new part of the Zoo? Wait, why would they add a new part to the Zoo? Unless it is some kind of new habitat study… But then why are you here? Are you my clone? I mean, they got enough DNA I guess… Or are you a gem that is in disguise as me? Are you replacing me? Don’t replace me! But that wouldn’t make sense… Unless you aren’t meant to be here… Wait, are you trying to CHOOSEN me? Approaching looking like me to make me feel more comfortable? Because you finally figured out my past??’

‘Wait… what?’ Greg said, disorientated by the shotgun barrage of questions and statements that had come at him in his own voice. ‘I’m lost?’

‘I mean, you seem really nice… I mean I seem really nice… But I’m not interested right now!’ the other Greg said, then paused. ‘Well, I might be, but I mean it’s very sudden, and I don’t know why you would disguise yourself as me, but I’m flattered? But not so flattered as to do things right now unless I was told…’

And the other Greg stopped. Reached out his hand to his ear, cupping the purple earring that had gone unnoticed by Greg up until this point. And immediately cried out again. ‘The little voice! The little voice is gone!’ The change was instantaneous. He collapsed, clutching his ear as he curled into a ball, making a slight whimpering sound as he rocked back and forth.

‘Hey, c’mon buddy’ Greg said, trying to understand what was happening as he talked. ‘What voice?’ he asked, already half guessing the answer.

‘The little voice… The routine… It’s… gone.’ The other Greg continued to rock even faster, clearly panicking.

‘Hey, hey, it’s ok…’ Greg said, reaching out and stroking the soft shoulder of the other man. He had a theory now. Either it was a very elaborate practical joke played by Tom, or this person was really someone from the Human Zoo- who happened to look exactly like him. Who had been brought to him. But what that meant, he wasn’t entirely sure…

It was then Greg heard another noise, the sound of sandals slapping against the tarmac. He swung around, looked the other Greg directly in the face, trying to fix his gaze as it wandered in panic. ‘Right, me! Well, you! Stay here!’ The other Greg nodded quickly, evidently a little happier now he was finally being told what to do again. But Greg didn’t have enough time to double check. Because he knew what that sound meant, as he dashed through the empty Reception, and threw the Car Wash door open.

‘Heeeeeeey Schtuball’ Greg called out, smiling widely.

And there was Steven running towards him, the cry of ‘Daaaaaaaaaaaaad!’ carrying in the still night air. Suddenly he was right with Greg, throwing himself into his father’s arms. ‘Oooof, careful kiddo- you’ll take my back out one of these days you know!’ Greg said, not entirely joking.

Steven continued talking without missing a beat, ‘Dad, Dad, you won’t BELIEVE it! We fought this giant –uh- giant gem thing, and Garnet was all ‘Gems, we musn’t let it split us up!’, but Amethyst had already fallen down a hole, and Pearl had been splattered by goo from its babies, so she wasn’t moving, so I had to…’ Greg let the story fade into the background, absorbing every word, as he just enjoyed being there. With Steven. Being alongside his son. Perhaps seeing the Zoo clothes had made him sentimental, remembering how close he had been to never seeing Steven again… That, however, brought the memories of the strangely dressed man back into his head; how was he meant to explain that to Steven?

‘Dad?’ Greg was startled, looked up. Steven had stopped talking, and was instead looking up at him with confusion. He had obviously let the emotions play across his face (‘Stupid, stupid’) ‘Are… you all right Dad?’ Steven said, concern obvious in his expression.

‘Of course, kiddo… I mean, why wouldn’t I be?’ Greg said, wishing for a moment his t-shirt had a proper collar he could fidget with.

‘You look… scared?’ Steven said. Greg froze. He didn’t want Steven to think he was afraid of him, God knew that the kid didn’t need that adding to his plate. But for the same reasons he couldn’t exactly tell him about his… clone? (‘Better than any other explanation I can think of right now…’ he thought). Steven would blame himself, Greg just knew it. And he didn’t want to hurt his son like that. Didn’t want to hurt their relationship any more.

The tinkle of shattering glass came from behind Greg. The moment was broken. Like a shot, Steven was looking past Greg towards the Car Wash, hand moving toward his Gem.

‘Get behind me Dad!’ Steven said, as if by reflex, advancing purposefully towards the perceived threat.

‘Wait, uh…’ Greg mouthed. Unless he thought of something fast, Steven would run in there, and meet… whoever that was… and who knew what would happen! If he couldn’t just think of something, anything…

‘Guitar lessons! I’m giving guitar lessons!’ Greg said, with a start.

Steven stopped moving forward, turning with confusion towards his Dad, the inherited bushy eyebrows drawn together in a dark frown. But at least he wasn’t moving forward anymore

‘Yeah, sorry I didn’t say anything Steven, I was just so surprised to see you back from your mission, so I wanted to say hi, you know.’ Greg said, feeling himself babbling.

Steven wasn’t convinced ‘But, it’s late? And why would your student be wandering around the car wash breaking things?’

‘Uh… They work in the day! And believe me, at this point I am just as confused about the breaking things as you are…’ Greg’s expression darkened, then shifted into a smile as he realised Steven was watching him intently. ‘But that’s students for you!’

Steven looked confused for a second. Paused. (‘Is he buying it?’) Then suddenly smiled knowingly, his face an echo of Rose’s for a moment. (Not long enough…)

‘Ahhhh, I see what is going on here.’ Steven said, grin plastered across his face.

‘You, uh… do huh?’ Greg replied, trying his hardest not to blush as his son scrutinised his face. ‘And uh… what is that?’

Steven just paced back and forwards, shaking his head ‘Yoooooouuu have a secret.’ Greg gulped. ‘Outside of usual hours… You don’t have your guitar on you… You’re sweating…’

‘Yeah… From the hard work of… guitar lessons. The theory of Guitar lessons.’ Greg said, watching the lie become more transparent with every repetition.

‘Daaaaaaad, don’t keep playing games, I know what’s happening here… You’ve got a date!’

‘That’s right Ste… Wait whaaaaat?’ Greg began shame-faced, before choking on his words.

‘I get it Dad, you don’t want me to meet them yet- I mean I didn’t introduce you to Connie at first either.’ Steven said, with an infectious kind of joy in his voice. ‘But I’m proud of you! What are they like?’

‘Steven! Your old man isn’t back on the dating scene, and this is just a… uh… student!’ Greg said, blushing heavily.

Steven laughed. ‘It’s ok Dad, I get it. You deserve to meet someone.’ (‘When did he get old enough to start giving me relationship advice?’ Greg wondered) ‘And speaking of that… someone… I should let you get back to it!’

‘Wait, what?’ was all Greg could get out in response.

‘Bye Dad! Have fun with your ‘student’!’ Steven winked, and then bounced away, even more of a spring in his step than usual.

‘No! It isn’t that! There just… uh… lessons!’ Greg said in vain to the quickly retreating figure. Then sighed, before falling backwards onto the deck chair, running his hand over his forehead. ‘This one’s gonna be a fun one to explain…’ It took him a moment to recover, and remember the reason that this had even come up at all; the sound of breaking glass. He hoped the man hadn’t stepped on anything; he was already starting to feel responsible, and that hospital trip was one he really didn’t need. He turned back to look at the reception, and almost fell out of his chair. The other Greg was there, his face and hands pressed against the glass, stock still.

With a start, Greg pulled himself up, ran towards the car wash, panicking already. As he got closer, he realised the man’s posture was not as unmoving as he thought, his shoulders shaking and reaching hands trembling. The other Greg was… crying? And crying hard.

Greg rushed into the Car wash, pulling the other Greg back with him into the darkened room. ‘What are you doing? You could have been SEEN! I asked you to stay there.’ Greg said, pointing clearly at the break room door which had been left swung open. Then stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to shout at someone who looked so devastated. Greg never realised he could cry so much, or so loudly. ‘Look, I’m sorry.’ Greg said. ‘But we need to talk about this… And why are you crying?’

It was a while before there were any noises out of his reflection that weren’t sobs. At length, amongst the sniffles, Greg could just make out the other Greg saying ‘That… that’s Steven. I… never thought I’d see… him… my son… again!’

‘Wait… your son?’ Greg said, backing away slightly.

Then, that shift again. The other Greg had planted himself firmly on the floor, raising his head slowly ‘Why would you do this to me, you gem MONSTER? I thought you didn’t like it when we felt pain? Or is this some kind of experiment? See how much pain a human can feel until we break? Well go ahead take your notes! This is the pain a father feels, kept from his son!’

His anger was so intense, Greg felt like he had been punched. Probably would have been, if the man hadn’t been crying so hard. All the softness had drained from this other Greg, and all that was left was concentrated hurt. Like his skin had been ripped back, nerves exposed to the winds and elements. The other Greg was in pain. Deep pain.

‘I don’t understand…’ Greg said. And he wasn’t lying. He had presumed from the way the other Greg had talked he was some sort of clone, brought up in the Zoo with only stories of Earth. But, he knew Steven… or at least acted like he did…

‘Oh, I’m SURE you don’t. You wouldn’t understand. CAN’T understand. THAT’S AN IMAGE OF MY SON YOU JUST DANGLED IN FRONT OF ME.’ The other Greg was shouting now. ‘The son YOUR Diamond took me away from! And now you think you can just… GO OUT and talk to a version of him with MY FACE?’ He paused. ‘Why would you do that?’ The words hung in the air, biting worse than any cold could.

‘I’m sorry’ Greg said, softly. ‘I’m sorry that I don’t know what has happened to you. And I’m sorry that I can’t fix this.’ He reached out to try and touch his counterpart.

‘Like I can believe that.’ The other Greg said, almost spitting the words, flinching away. ‘Like I can believe a Gem who is taunting me with my son.’

‘You’re right.’ Greg said. ‘You shouldn’t just believe it.’ With a calmness he didn’t feel, Greg walked further into the car wash, looking around until he saw the glass the other Greg broke. Bent down, picked it up.

The other Greg froze, his sunburnt skin going pale, even for this dark light. But he stifled his tears, and glared. ‘Yeah, I broke it. I get it, I’m not graceful like the other Zoomans. But I don’t care. I LIKE me. And I bet you DON’T like you.’ Greg flinched a little at that. ‘Having to steal other people’s forms, and taunt them. I don’t care if you’ve decided I’m no longer worthwhile as an experiment. Do your worst!’

Greg turned, holding a shard of glass purposefully in his right hand. The other Greg held still, teeth gritted against his plump lip. He wouldn’t give a gem clone the satisfaction of seeing him cry any more, or flinch away, in his last moments… Greg raised his arm. The other Greg screwed his eyes tight. Then nothing. Another beat of nothing. Gingerly, the other Greg opened his left eye… then threw them open. ‘You hurt yourself!’ He said, in shock.

Standing before him, Greg had clearly given himself a long cut, down the length of his left arm, blood dripping slowly from the surface wound onto the reception floor. The other Greg looked horrified. Blood was foreign to him, after so long in the padded grounds of the Zoo. And facing him was another him… But bleeding.

‘Gems don’t bleed. They don’t get hurt like humans. They’re not fragile like us.’ Greg gestured down at his wound. ‘Don’t feel like we do.’ And Greg looked up, hopeful. Hopeful he had been understood.

The other Greg wrenched his eyes from the blood, confusion painted across his features. ‘Wait, you said… we… Why… why would you just trust me? After the nasty things I said! All the things I blamed you for?’

‘I don’t understand why. But, I feel your pain. That worry you’ll never see your son again. Because I remember it. I felt it too.’ Greg said, talking slowly, spelling it out in his own head. ‘I think… You’re me from the past.’

The other Greg looked at him with confusion, eyes still wide. ‘What do you mean, the past? This isn’t some sort of Gem experiment in the Zoo?’

Greg shook his head. ‘It isn’t the Zoo, buddy… this is Earth. The real Earth. And I know that you’ve been to the Zoo because I was trapped there, once. Just like you were. And unless somehow you’re a clone with all my memories, the only thing that makes sense is that.’

Both Gregs looked at each other, staring, watching the other turn it over in their head. There was silence, broken only by the sounds of the sea in the distance.

‘I’m home?’ The other Greg spoke first, tentatively spelling out his conclusion. ‘I’m… I’m home! Beach city, car wash, takeaway pizza home!’ His voice became sung, happiness obvious. ‘And… and you’re me from the future? But, how? How do we do it? How do we get back?’

Now it was Greg’s turn to smile, as he replayed the memory in his mind. ‘Steven. Steven saved me… Well, saves us I guess.’

‘So, you mean… Steven comes for me? He comes for me!’ And suddenly the other Greg started weeping again, but this time with a huge grin on his face.

Greg raised an eyebrow. ‘See, it’s not so bad, you don’t have to…’ Suddenly, the other Greg grabbed him in a bear hug, lifting Greg off the ground slightly, an impressive feat. ‘Woah there buddy!’ Greg said, a little alarmed. It felt… weird being hugged by himself. Pleasant even, despite how crushing it was. The other Greg smelt of flowers and nature; synthetic flowers, definitely, but still a lovely scent. He hadn’t realised how soft his belly was, until it was pressed against him by another him, even if he could still feel the bulk beneath it. ‘Now I know how Pearl felt… Maybe I should do a few sit ups… Although I have been given worse hugs…’ He blushed a little- this was NOT the time to be thinking about things like this… about himself!

Eventually, Greg’s wiggling convinced the laughing past Greg to let him go, though the dopey grin wasn’t going any time soon. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just so happy… Steven comes for me… My little buddy comes for me.’

‘He does’ Greg said, with a smile, tearing up a little himself. A smile which froze. ‘I mean, he will… If we can get you… well me back…’ They looked out the front windows, up at the darkened sky in unison. Greg shivered slightly. Usually it felt good to think about how far away the Zoo was. But now… ‘Get you back so we can both be saved…’

***

‘Well that went about as well as to be expected… WHICH WAS APPALLINGLY’ the shrill voice carried annoyingly well in the cramped cave, echoing around the machines that were whirring gently in comparison.

The only figure in the cave shook his head, and spoke in a gravelly tone. ‘We moved one of them to the Focal point. At my age, you take what you can get.’

‘You were MEANT to move six of them, nimrod!’ came the voice again, from a triangular blue glow that was fixed onto one of the panels.

‘And you were the one who said that it was experimental gem technology’ he said, calmly ‘And the fact that it might work at all was hoping for a miracle, specifically considering that it was my “imbecilic human brain” that attempted to put it together from the blueprints.’

‘Well… MAYBE’ was all that came in response.

The man looked around the cave, thinking to himself. Loathe as he was to admit it, she wasn’t wrong. It could have gone better. A lot better. His calculations were that the force the machine generated should have pulled all of the test subjects together. Not just the one from the Human Zoo line. He sighed. It was a long, drawn out and weary one, pulling him deeper into the dark thoughts. The ones that threatened to pull him down, draw him into the huddled up ball on the floor again, like he had been after it first happened. When everything changed…

‘So, what ARE you planning now?’ The feminine voice cut through the silence, causing the man to snap back to the present. ‘The first testing was… less than successful. To be precise. Surely you aren’t thinking…’

The man interrupted. ‘We keep going. We get them all. That’s the only way this works…’ He choked a little. Almost stopping. But never quite. ‘The only way I get him back’

END OF CHAPTER 1

#greg universe #steven universe #fanfiction #there are hints to the future of the story I hope #if people want to learn more lol :D #thank you plainolddope though seriously :)#our terrible multi Greg AU will slowly come into a story existence

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