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therewasatale · 9 months

Text

regrets

On Ao3.

Based on prompt.

The metal of the railing cooled his temples pleasantly. Under his feet, the darkness seemed almost suffocating as it stretched behind the stage.

He knew that he was hiding here - behind the main sets. From the place he sat, he was able to see most of the puppets; Pearl was still walking around, she always did that. And Martin, who was enthusiastically walking up and down repeating his lines. The others around him were chit-chatting and laughing at their own jokes.

He saw all of them, but not one of them could see him. And that was what mattered right now.

No matter how nice they all were, he couldn't deal with them right now. The same questions repeated wherever he went, the same worried eyes looked at him as he met any of them. He just wanted to tear this numbness out of himself, maybe then he could feel something, anything besides anger.

It was one of the harder days, but still he had a job to do, puppets to help. Despite that he went ahead and hid himself away from them. He hoped that his dark thoughts would eventually crawl back to the depths of his mind they usually resided in. They mainly showed up when he was home, alone in the apartment.

But as he glanced down the darkness felt welcoming, like it tried to call out to him.

Another voice spoke up not far from Gordon. An actually real one.

"Phew, I thought I'd never find you." Ricky slowly crawled closer to him, he was clearly out of his element, making sure he wouldn't look down and only focused on the human.

"Ricky? What the hell are you doing here?" Gordon's attention snapped at the sock-puppet. "How on Earth did you actually get up here?'

"With a lot of determination," said the puppet as he finally arrived next to him. He gave a smug smile at the human then rolled over to his back; he was breathing like someone who just crawled down a marathon.

"Yes, sure," Gordon rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here? Are you moping around again about something?"

"I'm not moping," the answer came too quickly. "I just-," but he didn't know what to say. For too long he didn't say the right words, and now they were stuck on his throat.

"Just?" Ricky rolled again and pushed himself up half upright, looking right at him. They all knew something was off, Gordon frowned and mumbled more than the usual, and while he has never been a chatty person, this night he took a step back from every conversation.

“Hey, are you-?”

“Don’t, don’t ask if I’m okay. Why is everyone asking if I’m okay?” Gordon felt the edge of his voice, and his throat tightened from the shame, guilt and anger.

Ricky waited, to make sure his voice could reach the human. “Because you haven’t actually answered the question.”

Gordon froze up, then with a heavy sight leaned against the railing. "'m fine."

"Uhum, fine is fine, but I know it's your fine isn’t fine, right? It's a human-fine, which means you're actually far from fine." The sock-puppet wormed himself closer to Gordon's leg and sat down next to him. Even with his usually chatty personality, he seemed hesitant, out of his character. Finally, Ricky dared to ask a question. "Did we do something wrong?"

Gordon turned his gaze towards the puppet, he felt as if an icy hand grabbed his stomach. "What? No-, why-"

"I know we can be a handful, and loud, and some would even say annoying."

"Ricky, hey, listen-" it was his turn to be the one who wanted to make sure the other one was listening. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's not-, it's not about you, it's about me. It's about..." He went silent.

"It's about the war?"

It was odd how a puppet could understand him better than any other human. Maybe he was that desperate for attention, or maybe he started to get a fond of these crazy, yet always friendly and curious creatures.

"Yes," A bitter taste filled his mouth. "Sometimes, I remember the things we have done, the people we have lost, and I just feel angry. I lost years of my life, and what did I got for it? Nightmares, and endless guilt." He had to rub his eyes as he let out a deep sigh. "Don't worry about it, you all shouldn't deal with my mess. I bet it's all confusing for you already."

Ricky sat next to him in silence for a couple of seconds, again this was something Gordon had never experienced before from the puppet. He knew that these puppets were really impressionable by the shows and people they have seen. He would never forgive himself if they get worse because of him.

"Ricky?"

"I don't really understand the war, Gordon. Hurting someone is not right, and then those people, I just-, I'm sorry, I'm trying to understand it, but it's hard."

"Hey, you don't have to, I-"

"Of course, I have to, Gordon!" The puppet looked up at him, his voice was serious as ever. "You're our friend, you're my friend, and friends look-out for each other." Slowly he shook his head, and sighed so human-like, that it made Gordon worried. "I don't understand the war yet. But I know what is feel like to be remorseful, and have regrets."

"Really?" Gordon felt more curious than actually doubtful.

For once, Ricky avoided looking at him. "When the staff left, when Al left…" he hesitated, "…he told me to take care of the others. Most of the buildings turned to dark, only the main stage, the basement and few parts of the hotel remained alight. The other lamps were switched off to make sure we won't wonder out to the city."

The sock-puppet glanced around, still not looking at the human. "I tried to keep anyone entertained, we re-did every episode, changed the human actors with one of us as a stand-in. We re-wrote some of the stories, but over the time we became bored. Y'know Gordon, ironically, we need humans, we need to talk with them, to interact with them," he sighed, "to learn from them and create new things. And I had this genius idea, even if we can't leave this place maybe we can still see the humans. Learn what kind of series they want to watch if not us. So maybe, we can make a story that they would enjoy. Then the neighbourhood could come back again."

Gordon was clearly able to hear it, the bitterness from the puppet's voice.

"But I was wrong, so, so, so wrong, Gordon."

"You saw a lot of things, right?"

"I'm not even sure-, I told you once, it was...mean." Ricky slowly shook his head. "We all changed after that, they all changed, because I let them watch those films. They lost themselves in front of my eyes and I couldn't do anything."

"Come on, Ricky, you couldn’t have known."

"But I should have," he looked up at him again, "I was the first one, technically I'm the oldest out of all of them, and I should have-, maybe check those series alone before them. To make sure they won't get hurt by what they heard and seen."

"Ricky-"

"I should have protected them, get some books maybe, I-"

"Ricky." The sock-puppet winced under his touch, but didn't pull away, rather he pushed his head closer to his hand. "It wasn't your fault, even if it feels like it right now, or felt like it for a lot of time. I read about your show, all about the ups and downs, and while I wasn't here, I can tell you all were abandoned."

"Abandoned? What do you mean? The show stopped because people didn't care about being friendly anymore. They couldn't pay the actors or the other stuff, so everybody had to go and find a new place to work at." He said, but he couldn't convince even himself fully. It was just a thought that he repeated for himself over the years.

"They had to search for a new job, but they could have come back to check on you, or help you out." Gordon gently patted the puppet's head, and let him to lean against his leg. "I'm sorry, Ricky. You all shouldn't have gone through all of this."

"Neither should you," Ricky had to clear his throat, it was something again that made him seem, so alive. "I don't know what you experienced at the war, but-" he felt silent, because no, he couldn't even imagine it.

"It was bad," Gordon gently stroked his head again, "but I got back home, and while I was never the same, at least I'm still alive. And I like to think it's a big achievement for every day."

"It is," the puppet glanced up at him, "for us. We would be still in the dark without of you."

It felt cheesy and yet Gordon also felt a warm of embarrassment. It filled his soul and made him feel less cold. Slowly he lowered his shoulders, letting the tension flow out of his body, only leaving place for the ordinary tiredness, which was definitely better. Finally, he was able to get a hold of his thoughts.

"Y'know, I'm kinda glad they sent me here, even if I have to work my ass off."

"We really are happy about it," Ricky nodded. "It was such a long time since I saw Goblette being of herself again."

"Thanks, Ricky."

"You're welcome, Gordy." The sock-puppet smiled at him and after a thought he added, "and if we would be in a musical right now, we would now sing a duet!"

"And now you ruined it," Gordon scoffed but still he was smiling. He lowered his hand so Ricky could crawl up his shoulder.

"Listen, all I'm saying is that we could pull it off. People love music, and people love a good story. We could make an adventure of a knight who got lost in a castle where he meets various monsters and realises that he doesn't need to kill them, rather than help them to find the good inside of them! You would play the knight."

"Absolutely 100% out of question."

"All right, we can talk about it later."

"Ricky."

"We could name him something like, hmmm, Horton."

"Ricky, I swear to god I'm going to turn you into a pair of gloves!"

"You would never!" Ricky gasped again in a so human way that it made Gordon chuckle.

#my friendly neighborhood #my friendly neighborhood fanfiction #ricky my friendly neighborhood #Gordon O'Brian #copper

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therewasatale · 7 months

Text

numbers

On Ao3.

Note: Based on prompt.

Numbers, numbers, numbers.

For the last few years people just would not stop talking about numbers.

Oh, he knew that some numbers were very important; statistics, the number of views, and most importantly the numbers that ended up before the $. But he still knew they shouldn't be more important than the soul, should they?

There were always ups and downs, right? A lot of people still enjoyed the show, kids still learned how to be a friendly neighbour.

Then why won't people stop nagging him about deficits?

Like the man who was standing at the other side of his desk just. He came about 30 minutes ago, rambled on about a lot of numbers, trying to sound very professional.

Al Gerzwald never liked people who tried to act professional. When forced professionalism have become an ugly mask; it makes a peoples think they were better than others. Sure, a little bit of composure wasn’t bad, that was the way to improv, to get better, but people who wanted to act professional mostly cared about numbers, and forgot about everything else.

Thomas Blackgrave was an all-right college, not really an overly friendly one, he mostly avoided the puppets. On the other hand, he seemed to love to worry about the view numbers, and the show's budget. So far, Al let him work in his own place and peace, and listened to his worried, fretting reports.

But this time, it was different. Even the channel started to bother him about the neighbourhood and those damned numbers. Now they wanted to tell him what should he do with his own show.

Blackgrave cleared his throat, it seemed like he was finally able to compose his thoughts. "I think it would be in your best interest to give in and listen to me, sir. The numbers are telling the truth, the publics interests in the show are decreasing. Maybe if the episodes gets a bit more serious, just to make sure the older generations likes it as well. Maybe put some jokes in for the adults at first, the kids won’t understand."

"I'd rather eat a lemon."

There was a very confused pause between the two of them.

"I-, what?"

"You heard me." Al raised one of his thin eyebrows.

"But, Mr. Gerzwald-"

"You did good, Thomas, but enough with the numbers, I feel like I'm back at school, learning math again." Gerzwald stood up and with three steps walked towards to the still confused man.

"The channel-"

"The channel can wait a bit, I'm sure the new season coming out soon people will flock back to watch our friendly puppets again." He patted Blackgrave on the shoulder and gently but firmly he started to walk the man out from his office. "Ups and downs, Thomas. Even in business you have to deal with the downs but it's not the end of the world."

"I-, I'm not sure, we may have to cut a few corners."

"Do it then, I don't mind if my pay check is a little thinner," Al waved it off and opened the door. "We will talk about this later, I have a lot to do, count my favourite numbers. Have a good night, Thomas." And with that he closed the door at the man.

He waited until he heard the steps getting further away, and finally let out a tired sigh.

"The channel leadership can wait, it has to wait." He slowly drummed a tiny rhythm on the door. A persistent habit he probably got from his father, and had no way of getting rid of. "The Hell with all those numbers!" He mumbled under his nose as he got back to his desk.

He knew damn well how badly their last two season performed, how the critics didn't like the last movie they made. And sometimes even Al felt like they were telling the same stories.

Maybe they should change and make their episodes more mature, but that also meant to teach about the worlds to the puppets. How could he do that to them? How could Goblette, or Junebug, or Martin understand what war means? Or what is like to slowly losing your inner happiness over the years because of economical reasons? Who could teach them about death or sickness? Where to start and when to stop?

There were questions that even Al couldn't answer.

He thought about those questions, and the consequents of those questions every night, but he could never answer them.

It was too high price to pay to break those innocent puppets, they didn't deserve to be poisoned by the world. They had to stay the friendly neighbourhood for the children's and for the city's sake.

Slowly, he sank back down to his chair, and somehow felt exhausted, this wasn't new however. For months now he was losing sleep, as stress started bury itself deep into his chest.

With his right hand he opened one of the drawers of the desk and then swept aside the papers in it.

It was late, and Blackgrave was the last to have an appointment with him, which meant he was finally free for the night.

"Where on Earth-" he shuffled the papers left, then right, then he meticulously looked trough it, but he still couldn't find the key. "I know, I put it here, somewhere."

Finally, he heard a small noise that came from a pipe secured on a wall not too far away. They snaked through the entire building sometimes tying into knots deep in the floor. And one end led to his office, right on the edge of one of the sofas.

"I know you're in there. Come out, Ricky."

There was a sigh and slowly the sock-puppet slid out. "You got me, Al."

"It wasn't so hard when you were noisy." Gerzwald smiled.

"I'm not noisy, and I was just looking around the buildings, making sure that everyone is fine."

"How much have you heard?" Gerzwald tried to ignore the tightening inside his chest.

"Some stuff about numbers, that Thomas guy can be soooo boring, I almost fell asleep, actually." Ricky glanced around the room and slowly shook his head.

"So, everything then." The human stood up and walked towards the puppet. "But why the eavesdropping?"

"I didn't want bother?" Ricky glanced up, he realised his lies wouldn't work on Al. "All right, because I know something is up, all right? The humans are more jittery, smile less, there are times when I see them whispering but as soon as they see me, they make this, fake-smile. I don't like fake-smiles."

"I know, Ricky."

"So, this is why, I saw Thomas taking the elevator up here and followed him." The sock-puppet looked right into the human's eyes. "What's wrong, Al?"

The question was enough to make his stomach sank. Because there were so many things wrong in this world, but he couldn't tell him, nor to the other puppets. Where he could even start to explain? How could be sure that they won’t change forever? What could they do with a mental ill puppet?

He didn't even realise that he had to swallow.

"Numbers, Ricky," Gerzwald waved it off, "the channel worried about their money, and Thomas worries about other numbers, but nothing too serious." He glanced at his desk to avoid Ricky's eyes. "My turn to ask, do you happen to know where did the key vanished from my desk?"

"Maybe?" Ricky let out a fake-cough.

"Ricky?"

The sock-puppet also glanced away from the human.

"Come on, Ricky. Where is the key?"

"You shouldn't drink that thing."

"What? How do you even know what do I have in my desk?"

"Oh, please, Al," Ricky gave him a meaningful look, "I have access to most of the place and I know you're poisoning yourself when you're alone."

"Poising?" The human scoffed. "Where did you hear that?"

"Jackie told me, from maintenance."

"So, she was the chatterbox," Gerzwald rolled his eyes. "Where is the key, Ricky?"

The sock-puppet stared at him and tried to slide back to his pipe, but he wasn't fast enough.

"Oh no, no, no, don't even think that you can run away now, Ricky!" Al moved fast and were able to catch him at the last second. He tried to pull the puppet out from his pipe. "Give me the key!"

"I can't let you poison yourself, Al!" The sock-puppet did everything to prevent him to get out up to and including taking deep breaths to be bigger and get more stuck in.

"It’s whisky! Not poison!"

"Brain poison!"

"Ricky!"

With one final big pull he was able to get the sock-puppet out and both of them fell on the couch next to the pipe.

"That was mean!" Ricky gave him a serious look.

"Stealing my desk's key was mean." Al answered and look him in the puppet's unsymmetrical eyes. He couldn't help but chuckle. "All right. I can’t be mad at you, just give me the key."

"But-," Ricky let out a sigh and nodded. "You really shouldn't drink something like that." And without waiting for an answer, he coughed once and twice, then a small key felt out from his mouth, right into Gerzwald's hand.

"Thank you, and I know, but sometimes humans do things that are bad for their health." He let the puppet crawl up on his arm to his shoulder.

"Liking drinking poison."

"Yes-yes," Al walled back to his desk and crouching down opened the bottom drawer.

"And not sleeping enough." Ricky mumbled his eyes fixed on the human with an almost serious expression.

"I should close up that pipe," Al scoffed and took out a bottle of whisky and a glass. "But I know you would find other ways into my office anyways." He poured out a glass of alcohol.

"How does it taste?"

"Bad," he chuckled and drunk down the whisky with one gulp, letting it to burn his throat and fill his belly with fire. The warmth almost immediately started to spread inside him.

"I will never understand humans," Ricky shook his head with a weary sigh.

"Me neither, believe me," Al gently patted the puppet's head. He poured another glass and this time sipped from the whisky.

"Al?"

He felt the sock-puppet's eyes on him. "Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

He hummed and drummed a short rhythm on the glass. Any other time, for any other human he would have shaken off the question easily. This time, the words didn't want to come out. He didn't want to lie to Ricky. But of course, he couldn't tell the whole truth either.

"I'm just tired, the last couple of weeks took out from me a bit too much. I'm not a young lad anymore even if I seem to forget that sometimes." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I think, I should get some sleep."

"That would be the best," Ricky nodded so deeply he almost fell off his shoulder. "Get something to eat too, you've became thinner over the last months, Al."

"I have, haven't I?" He put down the glass. "Maybe you're right. All right, let's get you back to your place and I'm pulling down the curtains for tonight."

"Good idea, but, what if we walk down to the entrance? Just to make sure you actually go home. You know instead of checking the buildings again just to make sure that everything is fine and then you end up here, on the couch."

Al gently scoffed, but almost immediately went silent as Ricky leaned against his head.

"Sure thing, Ricky, let's do that then." He put back the cap on the bottle, and sank the key inside his pocket. "Just to making sure that it won't disappear again." A tiny smile played on his lips as he began walking out from his office. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

"Al?"

"Yes?"

"Everything will be all right, right?"

The answer came after a short pause. "Of course, Ricky. I promise you that everything will be all right." Instead of the tiny pang of guilt he tried to focus on the sock-puppet, who leaned closer to his head.

He needed to make sure that all of them would be all right.

#my friendly neighborhood #ricky #ricky my friendly neighborhood #Al Gerzwald #copper

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