#ooc: my short plan for this was 'argument. wake up in the future. all is peaceful. all is calm.'

[ghostsandmirrors]

“We’re married.” (Because why not?)

Send “We’re married.” for my muse to wake up in a future or alternate reality where our muses are married.

It was some stupid argument. Nothing big or important, really, but it'd felt important enough for Bucky to roll his eyes and dramatically sweep his way out of the room with a 'fuck you' thrown over his shoulder. He stood still and sighed while closed his eyes in a hint of a wince, because he really hadn't meant it. When he opened them, he was in a different room.

No, it was the same room, just differently decorated. There was also a kitten trying to climb his leg by clawing its way up. He didn't notice it until he felt tiny pin pricks in his thigh. As if on auto-pilot, he hooked it off of his leg with his left hand and dropped it off on his shoulder gently, all in one movement. The kitten seemed happy, purring away and pressing its face into his hairline.

"What did you say?" he called out, not sure how he knew that someone had said something, but going with it; the kitten was cute enough to distract him for the moment as it nuzzled him.

#ic #ic!ask #ic!answer #unpleasantxdreams #afallencommando : bucky barnes #verse : not a wanted man #ooc: i just realised raleigh was not mentioned at all #ooc: you know it's ra and not alan because if it was alan he would've meant the 'fuck you' #ooc: my short plan for this was 'argument. wake up in the future. all is peaceful. all is calm.' #ooc: just so you know the thought process #ooc: also future #ooc: i don't think i mentioned that #ooc: big future #edit ooc: i definitely mentioned that nvm #swearing

[juleschurchill]

TASK 009 >>> questionnaire

What are your character’s nicknames, if any?

Contrary to popular belief, “ J u l e s ” is in fact, her given name. 

Not Julia, Juliet, Julianne — it’s just Jules. ( after the author of an crumbling, unreadable old book her father has had in his possession since he was a boy. The story inside is worn and warped by war and age, but the cover is still clear: TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA by JULES VERNE. 

It was an impossible, unthinkable feat now, to travel that far under. Unimaginable. But Aaron Churchill wanted his daughter to do impossible things.) 

She wouldn’t go by Jules if it weren’t her actual, given name — nicknames aren’t exactly professional. But at home it’s fine — she’s called Jule-bug, J, Jul, and a rather ridiculous collection of petnames, courtesy of her father.

Do they have any bad habits?

Her bluntness is a rude habit, one her mother  e n d l e s s l y  scolded her on. Be nice, Jules! Be polite, Jules!  ( But Jules doesn’t like being a liar. She  likes telling the truth, the brutal, boring, terrible truth. Is that so bad?) With that comes her habit of being judgmental, of thinking she’s the one who has it all figured out, the only one who understands anything. 

(Doesn’t help that so far in her life, she hasn’t exactly been proven wrong.)

Do they have any tattoos? If not, would they want one?

Absolutely not, tattoos are for vagrants and capitolites, and the Churchills don’t have a particularly high opinion of either group. Nothing is that important that it needs to be permanent, anyway. 

Do they have any scars? How did they get them?

Jules is lucky insofar that the only scars she has is from a childhood well-lived. There’s remnants of scraped knees from tripping playing tag, a burn behind her ear from letting her little sister straighten her hair. 

But nothing traumatic, nothing awful, nothing bad. 

Not yet.

How do they dress most of the time?

( ooc ; Do you know how, in the Sound of Music, the captain has his seven children wear literal uniforms before Maria comes?

                                                      ...Yeah. Her dad was like that.)

Her clothes are high-quality, as fits one of the richer families in District Seven, but not ostentatious. She’s never casual — her wardrobe had a wide array of  blouses and sweaters and skirts and corduroys, but no jeans, no sweatpants, no t-shirts. If it’s not appropriate for Sunday Mass, Jules Churchill doesn’t wear it. 

What words or phrases do they use frequently?

More than phrases, Jules has a distinct style of speaking — she repeats things for emphasize, instead of saying things like “very,” she says “this is bad, bad, bad, “or I love love love this dress.” 

Also, notably, Jules rarely swears unless she’s in extreme circumstances. It’s not very proper.

If anyone, who do they trust to protect them?

Short list: Her dad, only her Dad.  She trusts the other members of her family, but when it comes to protection, only one person could do it, and that is Aaron Churchill. She very much views him as her one and only protector, her guardian against all things. 

(And he would say the same thing. The fact that he can’t possibly protect Jules in the Hunger Games in any discernible way — it eats the man alive. He’s supposed to be her protector, he’s supposed to take care of her, and he can’t, can’t can’t. 

What is the point of power if you cannot protect your little girl?)

Are they argumentative or do they avoid conflict?

Depends on who you are. Do you have something Jules wants, a position or authority? She can play the yes-man all you like. But if Jules decides you’re not worth it, get ready to hear her monolingual on how incredibly wrong, wrong, wrong you are.

Did they have any role models growing up other than their parents?

No. Only Dad. No one outside of the family really mattered.

When was the time when they were the most frightened?

...Does this very moment count? Jules trusts herself, trusts her instincts, but she’s also terrified every waking moment of the games. From the moment her name was called out in the city square, every moment has been more terrifying than the last.

(Jules doesn’t want to die, her entire life so far has been planning from the future, they cannot take that away from her. If there’s no future, there was no point to any of it at all. 

That can’t be the story. 

                                    I want a different story!)

When was the time when they were the happiest?

Jules Churchill, age ten, the sort of age where everything is wrong with you and the world is against everything you do. Despite fate and biology and puberty working against her, Jules is successful, well-liked, the darling of her teachers. So much so, in fact, one of her teacher’s tells her: 

“Jules Churchill, you truly are your father’s daughter.”

She ran straight to City Hall after school, just so he could tell them, as she stood panting, red-faced in her father’s office, he simply laughed. 

“Jules, we already knew that. It’s clear to anyone who meets you that you’re mine.”

What is their most embarrassing moment?

After she turned fifteen, her father occasionally brought her to city hall for the day to shadow him. At fifteen, Jules thought she knew everything about the world, and acted as such to peacekeepers, her father’s staff, and plenty of other high-ranking officials. 

The chewing-out by her father midway through the day made it clear that she was not as smart as she seemed. Not yet, anyway.

Are they optimistic or pessimistic?

Pessimistic about the world, but optimistic about her own prospects in it. Jules is very much aware that the world she lives in is a cruel, ugly, unforgiving and unwelcoming place. But she also has the deeply-held belief that she can overcome that if she’s smart enough, if she works hard enough. 

(I wish that counted for something. I wish it counted for anything at all.)

What is their most treasured possession?

Her father own a bronze pocket-watch of incredibly old age, put together before the dark days. She has always, always, always wanted it, always made comments about how she hopes someday it will be given to her. It’s an heirloom, a piece of their family that has always been in their family. 

Her father gave it to Jules to have as her token. She intends to return it to him, though.

How do they spend a typical Saturday night?

Not terribly surprising, but Jules was rather popular at her school back in Seven. The wealthy, charming daughter of the Mayor had no trouble finding friends, and as such, if her schedule of studying allowed it, Jules was a regular attendant of District Seven’s house parties, though no, she never partook in any of the more inappropriate activities that defined teenage parties. 

(She just liked dancing.)

What song would you use to describe them?

baobabs by regina spektor

and i wouldn't raise my child inside this city anyway / they grow up too savvy and they grow up too fast / and they know about buying shit and they know about sex / and they know about investment banking and also about brokerage firms / and they know about the numbers and they know about the words / and they know about the bottom line and also about stones / and they know about careers and about the real deals /and they all grow up and become people's people with people skills

but you have tamed me / now you must take me / how am I supposed to be / I don't have my thorns now

Are they introverted or extroverted?

Extroverted, if only through sheer force of will. Jules prides herself on being able to talk to anybody and everybody. Especially in her element (District Seven, with her family, etc), Jules owns the room she goes into, knows how to light up the room she’s in.

Are they organized or messy? 

Organized in terms of her room, messy in terms of her desk. Too many thoughts, too many papers, too many things to keep track of when it came to her brain. Her room, however, is immaculate — clothes arranged by color, nothing on the floor at all.

What do they like about themselves?

To be frank, there’s a lot. Jules is a more than a little bit full herself, if you haven’t noticed yet. 

She loves her brain, her calculating, clever way of thinking her way into and out of every situation she needed to. She knows she’s attractive, though it doesn’t matter all too much to her (who cares if I’m pretty if I fail my finals?!), though it’s certainly a plus. 

She loves where she comes from, her intelligent, ambitious, historic family. She loves her role as the heir apparent of that very family. She loves being Jules Churchill.

How do they relax?

A good book — HISTORY OF PANEM, usually, maybe a folk story or two. Fire roaring in the parlor of her home in Seven, a cup of tea squealing from the kitchen. 

What is their ideal date?

Traditional, traditional, traditional. Wear something nice, take her to dinner, pay for it, and make sure to entertain her with the conversation — if she’s bored, you’re over. 

(also, eating her out afterwards wouldn’t hurt)

Do they want children? Why or why not?

Yes, but that doesn’t exactly mean Jules wants to be a mother. She wants to continue her family line, maybe even have someone love her unconditionally in the way a child does. But raising a child? Changing diapers and feeding and comforting and crying with a child for eighteen-plus some years?

Who had time for that?

Where do they see themselves in five years?

The plan has changed since she was reaped — though her heart can’t fully rule out following in her father’s footsteps, she’s not sure a Victor would even be eligible to be chosen as the mayor. But a Victor has a power all it’s own, probably more so than a mayor — something Jules wants to wield wisely.

What would be their three wishes if they found a genie’s lamp?

To win ( d u h . ) 

For her family to wield power comparable to the snows in the capitol (yeah, something she has seriously thought about) 

For pomegranates to grow in Seven — she tried one here in the capitol, and it is the closest Jules has come to falling in love.

Describe your character sitting in their favorite spot.

See above — the parlor of her home in Seven, with it’s ancient Persian rugs, warm fire-lit lamps, shelf after shelf of books and usually at least one member of her family inside. Add herbal tea for an especially happy Jules.

#ttwtask #so so so long #but some cute stories

[crowned-ladybug]

Not Going Anywhere

I’ve been writing for years now and i still can’t do titles

This ended up longer, quite a bit gayer and all around very different from what I had originally planned. I just wanted to write angst with no planning beforehand and then it ran away with me

Characters: Chase, Bing, Anti (also the Googles and Dark)

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: panic attacks, injury, horrible pacing and like no plot, probably very ooc, can be seen as shippy/pre-slash if you wanna

When Chase arrives home to his little human flat, he expects a lot of different things. For starters, he expects to see Anti and Bing, as he had invited them both for a movie and video game night (granted if Anti could control his glitches) with the badly disguised intention of getting the two of them to like each other more. His hopeful and naive side expects them to be sitting on the couch and talking. His less hopeful side expects them to be doing their own thing and completely ignoring each other. No side of him expects this.

Anti is hiding in a corner, curled up into a tiny ball, hands pulling at his hair and his whole body shaking in terror. He’s constantly glitching and Chase can barely hear his own thoughts over the loud white noise.

He’s only seen Anti in this bad of a condition once before. They had been filming a skit with Sean - well, Anti and Sean had, Chase was just watching and helping out - when Anti swung his knife around a little too enthusiastically and he clipped Sean’s arm. It wasn’t a deep cut at all, and Sean’s yelp was one of surprise and not pain. Chase helped bandage up Sean’s arm, but Anti broke down and had a full-blown panic attack over hurting his friend.

Chase is terrified to find out what’s got him in such condition this time.

He follows the stare of Anti’s glassy, dark eyes to the other end of the room, and he no longer needs to wonder where Bing is.

Bing’s sprawled on his back on the carpet, eyes empty and wide open, and one of his arms twisted in a painful angle. He looks dead, Chase thinks, and he has to remind himself that Bing never appears to be breathing in the human world.

Chase rushes over to his side, and he sees Anti flinch violently as soon as he moves. As much as he wants to calm his brother, he has to make sure Bing’s going to be okay first.

He falls to his knees beside Bing’s unmoving body, not even noticing how close he came to crushing his sunglasses that have fallen off, and he immediately moves his arm into a normal position. At least it doesn’t appear to be broken. Then he instinctively reaches for his neck, forgetting as always that Bing isn’t human. He doesn’t have a pulse, his chest doesn’t fall and rise, he has no beating heart. Chase has no way to know if he’s even still alive. He forgets to pull his hand away from Bing’s neck as he breaths in and out once, twice, trying to fight back the urge to cry.

“Bing…” his breaths come short. “Bing!” he tries again, louder this time, grabbing his friend’s shoulders. “Bing! Goddamnit…wake up! Bing!”

Bing doesn’t wake up.

His head rolls from side to side as Chase shakes him, but he remains unconscious. Chase can barely look at his face.

Bing’s eyes are wide open and it’s terrifying. One glows white and the other flickers rapidly on and off like a faulty light. There’s a crack running down his cheek starting from that eye, but there’s no blood, of course there isn’t. Chase has never seen Bing look so much like a robot before.

“Goddamnit…” Chase breathes again, and he reaches up his hand to run it through his hair a few times, forgetting about his snapback. The hat falls off his head, but Chase can’t hear it hit the ground - the white noise is still too loud.

Chase takes a quick glance around the room and notes that nothing seems to have changed. Even the pillows on the couch are arranged as usual. His eyes fall to Anti and he swallows. He has no way to help Bing or know if he’s a goner, not right now, but he can try to calm Anti down and get some help.

He turns back to Bing, grabbing his neck again on an impulse. “Don’t you dare die on me, bro, don’t you…fucking dare…or I swear…” the strength leaves his voice halfway through. “Just…don’t do that. Don’t you leave me.”

With that he pats Bing’s chest and shakily pushes himself to his feet.

He’s not sure how to approach Anti. He just does what his heart tells him to.

Slowly, he kneels beside his brother and reaches his hand out. “Anti…hey, bro…”

Anti’s head snaps to look at him, but Chase isn’t sure how much he sees. His eyes are wide in fear and pitch black. Before Chase could do anything, he hides his head in his arms. He’s talking, but his voice is so distorted Chase can’t make out a word of what he’s saying.

Chase tries again. Anti is glitching so much it’s disorienting to look at him, and the white noise just keeps getting louder, but he has to try to get through to him.

He grabs Anti by his arms and turns him towards himself. He’s still shaking like a leaf and Chase finally sees that the cut on his neck is wide open and gushing blood.

“Anti, bro,” he pulls him closer until their foreheads are pressed together to make sure he doesn’t turn away again. “I’m here, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Anti’s lips keep moving and Chase can finally hear his name amongst the distorted noises, along with countless apologies. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. Whatever happened, it’s okay now,” Chase isn’t sure if Anti can understand him, but the white noise seems to be fading while he’s talking to him and he’s given up on trying to tear himself away from his grasp. “I’m here now, it’s okay. We can fix it. I’m not mad at you.”

Anti hiccups a sob, and once he starts crying he just can’t stop. He falls forward, wrapping his arms around Chase tightly. He buries his head into his chest, pressing himself as close to him as he possibly can, crying his heart out.

“Ch-chase…Chase…I’m sorry…” his voice finally evens out enough that Chase can understand him every time.

“It’s okay,” Chase sighs now that Anti is at least reacting to his presence and wraps his arms around him. He leans back and feels his shoulders hit the wall. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Anti doesn’t seem to believe him. He just keeps muttering apology after apology, but he becomes slower and weaker as his panic starts to ease and his tears soak Chase’s jacket. Chase holds him tight, combs his fingers through his hair and tells him that they’re going to be okay until the white noise dies out and Anti is nothing more than a hiccuping heap in his arms. All the while Chase doesn’t allow himself to look towards Bing. He just can’t.

“Hey, bro,” Chase starts when he deems Anti calm enough to talk to.

Anti gets it, he pulls away tentatively and sits back onto his calves, though his hands keep ahold of his brother’s arms. Just to be safe.

“Chase, I…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, just-”

“No, it’s not okay!” Anti all but shrieks and his shoulders shake as fresh tears roll down his cheeks. “I…I didn’t…”

“Just tell me what happened,” Chase cuts him off, then quietly adds: “Please.”

Anti swallows shakily. His eyes are still mostly black, but Chase is starting to see the white edges again. That’s a good sign. Chase finally lets his eyes drift towards Bing for a second. Bad idea. He can feel his heart breaking into even more pieces instantly.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him!”

“I know,” Chase nods with more certainty than he thought he would be able to manage. “I know…”

“He just…we…” Chase watches as Anti takes deep breaths to keep himself calm before he continues. “We got into an argument, and I…”

“Anti,” Chase tries almost forcefully to keep his brother’s attention on him.

Anti looks him straight in the eyes and he starts crying again. “I didn’t realise that my glitches would hurt him.”

Chase doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t blame Anti, of course he doesn’t, even if he once had he wouldn’t after seeing him so pained by his actions.

“I was an idiot, okay?” Anti cries. “I…I was an idiot and I was jealous of him because you two get along so well and you’re so much alike and…and I’m just your dumb scary brother who isn’t even your brother, who couldn’t even protect you from your stupid wife, and I-”

He can’t keep talking any longer, he just buries his face in his hands and cries.

“No…”

That’s all Anti hears, a tiny “no” and he knows that here comes the moment Chase throws him out and never talks to him again, because he hurt his best friend, he could easily have killed him, he’s an absolute monster.

Instead he feels himself being pulled into another hug and he can’t find the strength to pull away. Chase doesn’t know what to say. They will have to talk this out, sometime in the future but not now. Not now.

“You are my brother. My hundred per cent real, actual, awesome brother. I would never replace you,” Chase squeezes Anti close to his chest. He feels so dumb.

“He…” Anti doesn’t know how to respond to Chase’s words, so he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls away and wipes at his face.  “He started glitching out after I did and…I didn’t realise,” he looks to the side, then back at Chase, eyes wide. “I didn’t realise I was hurting him until he stopped screaming.”

Chase bites his bottom lip. He’s trying not to picture it - Bing glitching out, writhing in pain, screaming…it hurts to think about it. The worst thing is that it had obviously hurt Bing even more.

“I tried to stop! I did! But,” Anti takes a deep breath again. He’s still on the verge of tears. “It took me too long, I think. He just…fell to the ground and didn’t…didn’t get up. I was too scared to do anything.”

It takes Chase a little time before he can respond.

“It’s…it’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” he tries to sound reassuring. He hopes he succeeds, for Anti’s sake. “Come on…let’s go check on him.”

He doesn’t know what to expect, but he also doesn’t know what else to do.

Bing looks the exact same as when Chase had left him. When Chase falls to his knees beside him, it’s not entirely of his own accord. Anti sits next to him and presses himself into his side. He’s still shaking a little bit and he looks exhausted. Chase doesn’t blame him – he also kind of wishes he could just close his eyes now and never wake up again.

Anti reaches out and places a hand on Bing’s arm. His eyes are fully black again and his eyebrows scrunch up in concentration. He doesn’t speak for a few seconds.

In the meantime, Chase’s gaze doesn’t leave Bing for a second. He’s not surprised he only sees now, but the crack down his cheek isn’t the only one. On the arm Anti is holding, right where the vein should be there’s a long, dark crack, charred around the edges. Chase cringes mentally just looking at it, and he places a hand upon it to hide it from sight. Bing’s skin is still warm, warm as ever, and Chase lets himself believe that that’s a good sign.

Anti bites down on his lower lip so hard he draws blood – which, to be frank, isn’t exactly the hardest task with fangs like his. He sighs.

“He’s still alive.”

Chase’s head shoots up to stare at his brother. Anti continues without waiting for him to speak.

“He’s alive, but he’s weak and hurt and completely knocked out. I don’t think either of us can fix him,” he looks back at Bing. “We need to get help.”

Chase is surprised by how small his voice sounds when he speaks. “Do you think the Googles can help?”

“Yes, definitely,” Anti takes his hand off of Bing’s arm. He doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to be even near him, not after what he’s done to him. “And maybe that doctor friend of yours, too.”

They arrive in their dimension wobbling clumsily, carrying Bing together. He stirs as soon as the world around them comes into view, and Chase clutches him closer, looking around frantically.

Today the place looks like a hotel from the inside, but there aren’t hotel rooms behind any of the doors. The first one they find leads into a forest, the second opens to a hangar, the third reveals some sort of lounge with couches and armchairs. They decide to settle for that.

As soon as Bing is laid on one of the couches, still barely conscious, Anti is visibly itching to run. Chase places a hand on his arm but doesn’t look at him, too scared to move his gaze away from Bing for even a second.

“Find Google as quick as you can, send him back here. Then look for Dr Schneeplestein too, if you can.”

“You got it,” Anti nods solemnly, and he’s gone in no time.

Chase feels numb as he drops to his knees for what feels like the hundredth time that day, placing himself near Bing’s head. He watches his chest rise and fall now that they’re in a dimension Bing’s a little more human in. His eyes are shut now, but there are still cracks in his skin and he looks awfully pale. Chase is too scared to think about how he must be feeling.

Because Chase had secretly hoped that Bing would be wide awake as soon as they passed into their dimension. He hoped he would be back to normal, a little hurt and frightened but nothing major, nothing a few band-aids and hugs can’t fix. But his hopes were for nothing, Bing is still barely conscious and Chase feels so helpless. He drops his head onto Bing’s shoulder, watches his unmoving face from a low angle and tries to make himself believe that everything would be okay.

He doesn’t notice when the tears start rolling down his face.

Bing stirs, finally. He groans, and Chase’s head shoots up to stare at him, and his eyes slowly crack open. They aren���t glowing white anymore, the right one is completely black but the left one is the usual golden yellow, even if a bit paler than normal, and Chase tries to concentrate on that.

As soon as his gaze finds focus on Chase’s face Bing smiles, even if just a small, weak smile, and Chase finally realises that he’s crying. He can’t be bothered to wipe away the tears with new ones already forming in his eyes. He wants to say something very cheesy, or maybe knock his lovable bastard of a best friend upside the head for scaring him even though it’s not his fault at all, but he doesn’t.

Bing’s eyes slip shut again and his head rolls to the side, but there’s the faintest trace of a smile on his lips still and Chase knows he’s still with him, just resting. He can’t blame him, honestly, poor guy must be feeling like absolute shit. So Chase just sits in silence, watching over Bing, wanting to be as alert as possible but zoning out way too easily despite all his efforts.

He flinches violently when he hears footsteps approaching. He turns around and looks up, and he finally wipes at his eyes when he notices that he can’t see properly from the tears that are still there. His startled eyes soften when they fall on Anti, who’s standing nervously beside a newly arrived Google.

Google looks immaculate as ever, all clean cut edges and neatly organised details, artificially perfect. The large white G on his shirt glows faintly. Chase has never liked Google, especially after learning how mean he (or they when he decided to split himself into four for increased efficiency) tends to be to Bing, but this once he’s happy to see him.

“Anti has already told me everything I need to know,” Google says as he walks over, voice completely emotionless. Chase reconsiders how glad he is exactly to see him but decides that it solely depends on how helpful he can be to Bing.

Speaking of Bing, he tiredly opens his eyes upon hearing his fellow android’s voice. Chase watches warily, but Google remains as emotionless as ever and Bing doesn’t seem to have the energy to speak, let alone make any teasing comments.

Chase knows he should probably just step aside and let Google do his thing, but he’s reluctant to, even after Google gives him a pointed look. He only gets up when Bing turns his head to look at him and visibly tries to gather the strength to say something probably overly cheerful and reassuring. Chase decides that he’d rather worry from afar than exhaust his friend further.

So Chase stands up and gives Google a warning look before moving to stand beside a still very anxious Anti. He loops an arm around his brother’s back and pulls him into his side, and he can feel that he’s still trembling. Poor thing.

“I couldn’t find Schneep. I’m sorry,” Anti whispers, so quiet that Chase barely hears.

“It’s okay,” he responds, leaning his head against Anti’s. He watches as Google gestures towards Bing’s cracked arm but Bing seems too weak to lift it or move it towards him. Google reaches for it instead, placing his hand on it not unlike how Anti had done earlier, and his eyes start flashing rapidly as soon as he makes contact. Bing’s eyes slip shut again. Chase’s shoulders tense.

They wait in silence for a bit, but after Google doesn’t say anything nor does Bing stir for a minute or so, Chase speaks again.

“Go,” he tells Anti, and he hopes he sounds certain enough. “find Dark.”

Anti only turns to look at him quizzically. Dark is not someone who could be of help at a time like this.

“Go, find him. No need to bring him here, just find him. Give him a hug, I don’t know…Stay with him,” Chase asks gently, and when Anti opens his mouth to object, he adds “Anti, you’ve already been hurt so much today, you don’t need to stay here to see the rest of this. It’d be better if you were with Dark instead. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Anti’s still shaken, he very much is, he still looks like he could break down crying any second. Normally Chase wouldn’t send him away, but right now he can’t comfort him. And if there’s someone Chase knows he can trust to make sure Anti’s safe and unhurt, it’s Dark.

Anti pulls him into a hug. “But promise you’ll tell me,” he mumbles into Chase’s shoulder.

“Yeah, bro, I promise,” Chase pats his back and somehow musters a small smile when Anti pulls away.

Anti takes a step away, then another, and it looks like he really doesn’t want to leave, but by the time he gets to the door he’s sprinting, running off to find Dark, the sinister man in the black suit, his best friend. Chase watches him go with a warm feeling.

When he turns back towards Bing, Google is standing up straight again, eyes the regular dark brown, waiting patiently for Chase to finish his business and listen to him. Bing is either unconscious again or just resting, it’s practically impossible to tell.

“So…?”

Google gives him a small nod before he starts. “Minor external and severe internal damage. System is-” he stops abruptly, closes his eyes, shudders. His shoulders lose some of their unnatural tension and his eyes don’t look emotionless when he opens them again. “Look, he…he’s suffered a blow about as hard as a complete bluescreen and several destructive viruses combined could deal. Let’s just say…he’s seen better days. It’s a wonder he’s even awake in such state.”

Chase wants to speak, but no words come to him. For one, Google is actually acting human, or the most human Chase has ever seen him at least. And two, the weight of Google’s words hit him hard, hard enough that he feels like he can’t breathe. Seen better days, my ass, what Google described doesn’t seem like anything someone could just bounce back from. Chase doesn’t want any sugar coating.

“I can fix him,” Google says before Chase can catch his breath and talk. “Not externally, someone else will have to do that, but I think I can restore him. Mostly, at least,” when he sees Chase’s expression harden, he quickly adds. “After such severe damage, it cannot be expected for everything to be safely restorable. But I think I can get back most of it.”

Chase still doesn’t look convinced.

“Listen, he might have to install some updates again. I might not be able to get back some data from his memory banks, but I’m still your best bet.”

Chase doesn’t even care about that last part, of course Google is the only one who can really help here. But two words catch his attention more than anything, circling around in his head, unable to stop.

“His…memory banks?”

“Yes, obviously there’s going to be some corrupted data that’s-”

“I don’t care about your programming bullshit!” Chase cuts him off and even he’s surprised by his sudden outburst. He completely forgets Bing is even in the room and that maybe he shouldn’t be shouting. “I don’t care…you said you…you won’t be able to get some stuff back from his memory. Does that mean there’s going to be stuff he just…can’t remember anymore? Is he going to lose entire memories?”

“Chase,” Google’s unusually quiet and Chase immediately shuts his mouth. Google’s never called him his name before. “Yes, he is going to lose certain memories. But you take up a very larger per cent of his memories. There is absolutely no way that he will forget you entirely.”

“Okay…” Chase sighs, lowering his head. So Google could guess why he was so scared, but it probably wasn’t too hard anyway. And Google’s right. For crying out loud, Bing smiled at him as soon as he saw him, he smiled and he tried to talk, of course he’s not going to forget him, of course he remembers him, of course, why would he not? “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Google nods. “No worries. It’s understandable,” he looks at Bing again, still resting silently. “I’m going to need to get some equipment here, but after I do I can get started on restoring him.”

It’s taking too long and Chase is convinced that that’s a bad sign. He refuses to believe Oliver’s reassuring words and the facts Red presents him with when he asks. It’s taking too long.

He’s sitting with his back against the couch Bing is laid out on, clutching his hand like his life depends on it. Maybe it does. The crack on Bing’s arm, running all the way from his wrist to the inside of his elbow is bandaged up now, Chase’s rushed handiwork, but it’s better than nothing.

Chase doesn’t want to look at Bing and see him hooked up to dozens of different machines, he’s already aware enough of the mechanic whirring and the clicking as the Googles work on saving his best friend. So he just holds onto his hand, the warmth of it just the slightest bit comforting, tangles their fingers together and presses them against his heart in a feeble reminder that they’re both still alive.

At least it’s not just the Googles and him, sitting on the floor like a useless, tired lump, always in the way. Anti has come back even after Chase telling him that he didn’t need to because he wouldn’t miss anything.

Now he’s asleep. He’s sitting on another couch with Dark who absolutely refused to leave him, curled into his chest and looking almost as small as when Chase had found him in the corner of his living room. Except he’s not scared now, lucky guy. He’s fast asleep, face tucked into Dark’s shirt and Chase is sure Anti’s the only one allowed to crease the carefully ironed fabric like that. Dark watches the Googles work with sharp, hawklike eyes, but his gaze softens when it finds Chase’s and he blinks slowly before placing his chin on top of Anti’s head and going back to observing the Googles.

It’s taking too long.

Chase wants to ask Oliver again as he passes by, how much longer exactly? Oliver notices and he would answer before he even hears the question, but his eyes drift past Chase and his lips draw into a wide smile because unlike Blue, Oliver tends to show emotion almost as much as a normal person. Before Chase could question what’s going on Oliver moves on and gets back to work and Chase can feel Bing’s fingers close tighter around his.

He turns around so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash.

Bing’s awake again after being put on standby mode for the better part of the restoration process. He looks like he’s just woken up after twelve hours of sleep and would like to get another ten, but he’s awake nonetheless and grinning like an idiot. A very loopy, tired idiot.

It takes all of Chase’s self-restraint not to straight up tackle him in a hug but he manages. Instead he just scoots a little closer and settles for a quiet “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I just got hit by a truck after pulling an all-nighter,” Bing answers after a bit of thinking, but he doesn’t seem too unhappy with his current situation. “Is this what a hangover feels like?”

“Nah, dude,” Chase shakes his head, chuckling. “I’m guessing what you’re feeling right now is much worse.”

“Better hope you never find out then, bro.”

Chase only nods. He doesn’t know what to say and they both go quiet for a bit. There’s so many thoughts chasing around in his head right now, but he has no idea where to start with them.

“Have you been holding my hand the whole time?” asks Bing after a while, but his voice doesn’t hold anything but genuine curiosity and maybe a slight bit of amusement.

Chase shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah.”

“That’s not very heterosexual of you,” Bing says and Chase laughs, a loud, joyful laugh, and gosh does it feel good to do that again. It feels like it’s been days since the last time he’s even cracked a smile.

He drops his head onto Bing’s chest and mentally notes (with a bit of disappointment) that he has no appropriate bi jokes up his sleeve right now. Bummer.

“Don’t care, man. You’d better believe I’m not letting go of you for probably the rest of your life after this,” it comes out more serious than intended and Bing’s smile slowly shrinks. But before Chase knows it, it’s back and he can’t help but smile along.

“Well, good thing I don’t intend on leaving anytime soon anyway, then.”

It’s a process.

Dr Iplier and Dr Schneeplestein stitch up the cracks on Bing’s skin to the best of their ability. They leave behind thin, shiny scars, but Bing doesn’t seem to mind. They’re barely visible anyway unless you know where to look, and Bing seems to forget about them a lot easier then Chase or Anti do.

The Googles, despite their previous claims, manage to fix up Bing’s right eye. His vision is back to normal in no time and he’s beyond happy to get back on his skateboard the moment he has his sense of depth back.

There’s a few other things in need of fixing, but they all get done eventually. It’s a bit of work, but Bing is persistent and Chase’s kids don’t judge, and so Bing relearns tiny movements with his injured hand by playing LEGO and various video games. His balance requires a bit of work before he can safely stand on a skateboard again, but they draw chalk lines onto the asphalt on the streets for Bing to follow and he’s as good as ever in no time.

Mental scars heal a lot less easier.

It takes a while for Anti to even just be in the same room as Bing, let alone go near him. Bing, too, no matter how well he hides it and how much he’s sure Anti didn’t mean to hurt him, acts wary and needs his time. It takes a lot of time for Anti to stop shutting himself away and for Bing to not walk on eggshells around him anymore, but after a month Chase decides to retry the movie night idea and it works out. It’s a little tense at first, no hard feelings around but both Bing and Anti not wanting to hurt the other (or Chase in the process), but at some point Bing cracks a dumb joke and Anti laughs so hard he falls backwards, and the next time they meet Bing greets Anti with a wide smile.

They sit down, have long talks. First just Chase with Anti, then Bing gets involved too. Chase is very much aware that if he had only communicated better then all of the pain and struggles would have never happened. He talks everything through with Anti, all the jealousy and troubled thoughts, and it takes a long while to weed it all out, but if anything, Chase is willing to work on it. He’s determined to make his brother feel as loved as he really is. They get there, eventually.

It’s a process, a long one, but they manage.

Chase smiles to himself as he closes the kids’ bedroom door quietly. They’re already asleep, the house is dark and quiet and Bing is waiting for him in the living room so that they can watch some movie together and probably end up talking and cracking dumb jokes all the way through it.

“Hey,” Chase starts as he falls back onto the cushions next to his best friend. He gestures back towards the children’s bedroom with his head. “remember the first time you decided to read them a bedtime story?”

It’s a nice memory, a happy and familiar one. One of those precious evenings Chase really loves to remember.

“…no,” Bing admits quietly though he really doesn’t want to. “No, I don’t remember that one.”

Chase looks heartbroken for a second and it doesn’t matter how quickly he covers it up. Bing didn’t end up losing much of his memories, but sometimes…sometimes they accidentally uncover another missing one, another hole, and hurts to think about. It probably hurts Chase more than it does Bing, honestly.

“Hey…”

“No, no, it’s fine, I just…” Chase shrugs and looks away. He doesn’t know what he was even going to say.

“Chase,” Bing says in an uncharacteristically serious voice and Chase finally looks at him again. “Yeah, I lost some of my memories. But I have plenty left,” he breaks out into a grin again because he has trouble staying serious for longer than half a minute. He nudges Chase gently. “and we’ll make plenty of new ones.”

Chase nods in mock surrender and nudges Bing back. He feels relieved for some reason and he smiles. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll make plenty of new ones.”

#chase brody #bingiplier #antisepticeye #darkiplier #googleplier #fanfiction #this is really dumb and bad and also i could have made it way longer but i just really didn't want to #both dark & anti and chase & bing are stated to be best friends but once again you can consider it shippy or pre-slash #if that's what you'd like i don't really care #i might write another fic in the future expanding on the jealousy part of this bc i couldn't really fit it in this #without making it 10k again #writing #it's so ooc and so bad aaaaaaaaa #but hooo boy i definitely have a favourite line from this one