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What It Says On The Tin
Side blog for reblogs/posts (writing/doodles) about object head characters-current fixation is: TPoH, specifically RGB.
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Day 11- Escape:
This is an alternate end to day 8’s prompt of ‘role swap’ with Click and RGB; and a bit of Dial.
Note: aka what if Click didn’t abandon RGB in the role swap. I’m still fascinated by Click and RGB’s interactions and the swapping the role thing was making me think some more so this happened.
~
Click had grown accustomed to his hero’s eccentric ways.
And since the hero was able to keep up with what was thrown at him, despite his cowardice flaring up now and again, Click continued to cover for him when faced with the enemies of this world with his long range weapon attacks.
However, the longer they travelled, the more a sense of unease rose up, which Click mercilessly shoved down. But he couldn’t deny that while things were going well, it was unfortunately almost exactly the same as Click’s own journey as a hero.
It didn’t bode well for them, but there was no turning back now.
Click continued to watch his hero’s back. At times, the hero was able to point things out in a new light that Click himself hadn’t noticed the first time around. Sometimes it led to easier paths to take. But nothing either of them did was enough to save the world as it fell apart around them, and sooner than Click liked, he and his hero faced Her.
They failed.
Click and his hero both were broken.
Click wasn’t certain what it was that made him act as he did next. All Click saw was his hero in danger of being completely removed from this world of make believe, instead of being merely trapped within this place. Most unfortunately, the hero’s words had run away from him, angering Her at the daring this hero still held.
Perhaps being erased from the world would have been a kinder fate, were it not for that irritating fondness for the fool that Click had been unable to shake off entirely.
This foolishness allowed Click to get up despite his broken body not cooperating with him, weapon dangling from one of his arms. But move he did, Click’s good arm unfolding to allow it to help launch himself haphazardly through the air toward his downed hero and Her.
A wild daring had enter him with this stupidity.
Click didn’t think too deeply on it as he snapped his false head backward to shoot a blast at the ground close to his hero, in order to send him tumbling back a short distance. Click himself landed where the hero been before, metal creaking throughout his body.
Despite his injuries, Click’s hero still had enough left within him to speak cheerily, if deliriously.
“That’s the flair you needed!” The hero exclaimed, before he groaned and rested his head on the ground, prone.
“You never know when to shut your mouth.” Click jammed his broken arm weapon-first into the ground in order to keep himself upright and not falling over like a broken toy. “It doesn’t help that I’ve unwillingly grown fond of your inane chatter.” Golden button eyes glow, Click’s body shifting as he turned to face Her. Multiple mouths twist in pain and distaste. Click did not speak; his actions should be clear enough, and She seemed understand what he wanted, yet She waited for Click to say it himself.
“I will be heard.” Click straightened up as best he could, shoulders held as straight as the metal allowed, chest tilted up so Click could look at Her properly. “I am the one who failed to choose a hero who could do what I was unable to. If there won’t be any further chances to find another, then take your frustrations out on me however you need.” Click’s arm trembled, but he held firm. “If my hero is unable to return, then perhaps keeping him here could serve a purpose? Either in my roles, as a kind of guide to a hero, or someone who can assist a hero alongside me.”
A long shot.
Click doubted he could sway Her one way or another. His and his hero’s fate had already been decided the moment they failed.
She is quiet, until She told Click to come forward.
Click noticed with trepidation that his hero is gone from the immediate are, but said nothing as he approached and waited.
Sheer agony and relentless pain assaulted him from out of nowhere as the agony wracked him so terribly his vision whited out.
Click thought he may have heard Her tell him to not fail again, or he’d face a final end instead of his next hero. When Click came to, he’s missing his right arm.
A reminder.
The tin soldier moved slowly at first as he went on his way to go back to find another hero. While Click travels, he ended up coming across his former hero.
No words are spoken apart from a tip of that dragged boater hat, while Click gives a jerk of his false head in a nod.
His hero did not recognize him.
Click wasn’t certain why that bothered him so much. His former hero was alive, in a sense. Wasn’t that better than the alternative?
It was an escape of sorts, to be ignorant of how you came to this place and failed, despite trying the best you could.
Unlike Click, who remembered everything, unable to barter memories away. It was as if they were locked in place within him.
The pain of being torn up.
The agony of metal being ripped apart.
The current state of his body made it difficult to maneuver about, gaping holes in Click’s body here and there.
Tattered, worn out.
A visit to the Market was necessary, but after he fetched a new hero.
Whether it was his last chance or not, Click went on to find another hero. When he came back, Click brought with him someone almost as insufferable as his former hero (now going by the name RGB, Click had been told). The man with Click now was tall, wore a golden necklace, loose clothing and held a laid back attitude with the addition of being a chatty bastard just like RGB had been, though the inflection and mannerisms were different.
When the two visited the Market, Click chose to ignore the pang of disappointment and twinge of guilt over RGB not recognizing him.
A price to pay, to keep his former hero safe from Her.
As an entertaining little bonus, RGB and Click’s current hero absolutely loathed one another, despite the general pleasant demeanor when the two spoke to one another before continuing on. But the amusement did little when Click began to see more and more the futility of being the ‘hero’ of this world. And Click was trapped within this world of make believe along with whoever he ended up bringing back with him as the hero.
A small part of Click still wanted to have that ‘hero’ title for himself again.
And he would.
Click would take it when the moment seemed right, with the hero who would come closer to bringing Her down, and preventing this world from coming to an end. His current hero wasn’t going to cut it; as good a people person as this man was, and as adaptable as he was, there was doubt and uncertainty growIng, and taking root. He may last until the end, but Click wasn’t holding his unneeded breath.
…Click hated it here, but he would be patient. He had all the time in the word, and so long as he could prevent himself from being erased from this world if he failed again, he could have that chance to hold the title of ‘hero’ again, and end this nightmare.
#the property of may#the property of hate#tpoh fanfic one shot#tpoh click#tpoh rgb#role swap au#Oop falling behind the days again#tpoh dial
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Day 10- Sword
RGB (Negative), Hero, Click.
Note: A shorter (?) one shot about the Market chapters in the comic with Click, exploring what-if's, such as what if RGB had gone Negative with Click around after RGB is shot by Click, and after Hero had thrown Click's arm into the water.
~
Unfortunately, the water splashed RGB as Click's arm/weapon was drawn into the water.
After some static bursts and glitching, Negative sat upright on the ground, before swiftly surveying the scene around him.
Hero, nearby, was being advanced upon by a clearly angry Click, the tin soldier lurching forward with a hand outstretched.
The path of that hand, however, went past Negative, who reached his own hand up with a snap to seize Click's wrist. Then, with the cane in his other hand (hat back over his telly-head) Negative thwacked the middle extension of Click's arm, before letting go of the wrist to send it all flying back to Click with a sharp motion.
Click stumbled back but recovered quickly as the arm snapped back into a weapon.
Negative dodged the shot that was fired and stooped to scoop Hero up, who gasped in return and curled up in his grasp. Negative sidestepped another shot and deposited Heo near some of the gathered crowd, further away from the water. Static sounded as Negative's eye on his screen shifted to something of a calmer look as he handed Hero his cane and reached out with a hand. Pausing at the flinch, and waiting for Hero to look up at him, Negative lightly, if awkwardly, ruffled her hair. Straightening, Negative turned to face Click, but not before accepting an unfinished, sketchy-looking blade from someone nearby.
Hefting it and nodding in approval, Negative swiftly moved back within range of Click, who’d been untangling his arm from around the rest of his body, but raised the rifle at Negative’s approach, and shot at him.
Negative somehow blocked, parried and slapped the bullets away with ease, eye locked on Click as Negative got closer.
"RGB, why are you like this now?" Click demanded, the mouths twisting in a frown on his chest. "You've not been like this in a very, very long time." The rifle was raised again. "It's a shame you weren't like this before."
Negative's eye narrowed, but he merely began to drive Click around the space the crowd had opened up, before leading the tin soldier back toward the water, where Click’s arm/weapon had been thrown into it by Hero.
Once Click was cornered, both the tin soldier and Negative became slightly distracted when Hero was suddenly there, thwacking Click in the legs with the cane.
Click cursed them both under his breath, his false head snapping back to send out a blast, but Negative swiftly ducked down, one leg swiping Click’s out from under him. At the same time, Negative shooed Hero off to the side and down, flattening himself as well when someone else's leg shot over his back to plant into Click’s chest as he fell.
The momentum sent the tin solider stumbling back into the water, unable to escape as several others ‘helped’ him along. Click attempted to use one last blast by tilting his head back as he’s drawn into the water.
Click shot at Hero.
Negative twisted and shoved her out of the way with the flat of the sketch-blade.
In the same moment, the prism-headed character pulled Negative out of the worst of the blast range.
Quiet reigned after Click had his parting shot, verbally this time.
Negative, with Hero behind him, righted himself to a seated position. The eye on the television screen was tiny, the pupil small, as Negative twisted and inspected the area, as if assessing for further threats.
"It is safe now." The prism-headed character spoke to Negative. "There are no further enemies."
Hero carefully tugged Negative's suit, a little surprised when Negative lifted arm to allow her to huddle next to him.
The prism-headed character sat down on Negative's other side, hesitant as well, but Negative allowed the other to lean into his side. Providing company to help Negative calm down.
Eventually, the eye on Negative's television screen got bigger, the pupil no longer a tiny pinprick. Negative appeared to have calmed down as he used the arm Hero was under to tip his hat to the one sitting alongside him on his other side. Either in acknowledgment to other's words, or perhaps, for the earlier help.
Negative's eye then half lids, in a somewhat unamused way when Hero, and a few other characters nearby, grinned at him over the way Negative had leaned slightly into the prism-headed character next to him.
#the property of hate#the property of may#tpoh fanfic one shot#tpoh hero#tpoh click#tpoh negative#does the prism-headed character in the market have a name?
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Day 9- Crying:
RGB and Hero in this snippet/one-shot
Note: TFW you go to get a hero and end up getting attached and eventually that hero sleepily calls you ‘dad’ and now you can’t deny you now have a child to watch over instead of a ‘hero’ you were trying to not care for. Congrats DadGB, you now have a daughter.
(Fluff and a little angst, RGB is experiencing an emotion help him). Thinking about that little exchange in the house of paint in the more recent chapters.
In this short one-shot, RGB having Hero call him dad again brings out a similar reaction.
~
‘Dad.’
RGB’s screen spilled a lot of color out of it as his hands press to the screen, knees drawn up to his chest so his elbows could rest on the knees to press the hands harder against the screen.
The room was quiet.
‘Dad.’
Why would Hero say that to him. In what way was he even considered such a thing, with the way he initially acted toward Hero?
‘Dad.’
Oh, this was so much worse than any other hero previously, to have a child begin to see him as something more than a guide or even mentor in this world of make believe.
‘Dad.’
Cyan continued to pour out.
RGB was honestly surprised that he still had more blood left to be spilled out in such a constant stream.
Well, it had become more like a trickle than the initial surprised gush of emotions pouring out until only cyan was there, because RGB didn’t deserve that word. Didn’t deserve the way that Hero no longer ‘hated’ him.
“Mnn? Dad?” A sleepy Hero asked fuzzily. “Y’okay?”
RGB’s hands pressed to his screen as a gush of a fresh mix of colors flooded past trembling fingers.
“RGB?” A little more awake. “What’s wrong? Why are you bleeding so much?”
RGB’s shoulders trembled, unable to find his words for once as the emotions swept through him. The television-headed monster barely reacted to Hero peering from the top bunk down at him, only moving when Hero swung herself down at him, automatically catching Hero under the arms to swing her down to the bed he was seated on.
‘Dad.’
The word echoed through RGB’s thoughts as he mutely allowed Hero to coax him out of his scrunched up position, to lying flat on his back as if Hero believed this would help him stop bleeding all over the place so much. Lying there limply, with only static rising from him, RGB just let Hero curl up into the crook of his arm after tugging a blanket up over herself.
Despite repeatedly telling Hero that he wasn’t a mattress, RGB couldn’t find it in himself to tell Hero to get back to her own bed. With a shaky motion, RGB moved one hand from his screen and lightly held Hero to him to prevent her from rolling off the mattress to the floor below.
Even if it was only a few feet, at most.
‘Dad.’
Hero soon drifted back off to sleep, hand grasping RGB’s dress shirt collar.
RGB’s hand gripped the blanket as a thought occurred to him lying there staring up at the empty cot above. Did he consider Hero his ‘daughter’ if Hero considered him ‘Dad?’
A fresh gush of technicolor spilled forth, until only cyan remained as one hand remained on his screen, trembling against the glass.
He didn’t deserve to use such titles, nor hold any titles given in return. After all, RGB was responsible for bringing Hero here, effectively erasing/destroying who she used to be in the process. And despite being unable to go back, were Hero to somehow find her way back home, there would be no one that remembered her, nor she, them, due to no longer being the same as when she left for this world.
Hero mumbled something and sprawled, dreaming.
If Hero wanted to refer to RGB as ‘dad’ when she was sleepy, he’d allow it, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, let it be anything more than something to reassure her, but the word ‘daughter’ would never, could never, come out of RGB.
A small white creature appeared alongside RGB’s telly-head. He irritably smacked the Lie away from him as he turned on his side, and, after ensuring Hero wouldn’t fall, pressed his screen into the pillow and static-screamed his frustrations and regrets into it as cyan began to color the pillow.
#the property of hate#tpoh fanfic one shot#tpoh rgb#tpoh hero#Ahh falling behind in days but hehehehe fluff and angst make mind go brrr!#the property of may
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Discovered The Property of Hate by accident, went reading it for the cool tv dude, came out of there with heart issues
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hello tpoh tumblr for real this time
hes cool i guess /silly
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Day 8- Role Swap
Click and RGB swap; Click regrets his decision. Very much regrets it (I’m still thinking about their interaction, so this one-shot happened.
(Some tags: role swap, resentment, angst, betrayal)
A possible to-be soldier in his old world, a hero in this one, yet denied the heroic end to his journey in this world of make-believe.
He refused to let this he end of his journey, as he’d been told it was. He refused to accept that this was how it ended.
Broken and bleeding, clothing in tatters.
Click thinks that he demanded another chance. A do-over, as it were, to change this outcome. It must have been allowed, for She was amused by his words (Click rankles at the amusement; he should have succeeded, not lost as he had). But Click was allowed to try again, but unlike before, he was not the hero. He was instead tasked with finding one instead, which was not what he wanted but what he got.
Click’s body was no longer human, either. It was a rigid, mainly inorganic body. A facsimile of a soldier; a tin soldier whose body was made up of weapons that he had used on his initial journey. As much as Click disliked being put in this position, he still existed, and that allowed him to attain the goal from before, just in a roundabout way.
First, he needed to find a hero.
He went back to the world he’d come from, and took his time choosing the person he would bring back with him. Click didn’t want to have to try again, especially if he may not have another chance from Her if the hero Click found failed as he had.
Click was drawn to an actor, who had flair and a presence on the set that brought attention to him versus the others. This man handled himself with a cool air of confidence and preciseness that would aid him well in the world of make believe. The longer Click watched the actor on set, the more he believed that this man could be a good candidate. Even more so when Click observed that the man appeared to do well at close quarters parrying and joking prodding with a bamboo cane between takes. This would mesh well with Click’s preferred long-range attack style. He would be able to avoid striking then man should he agree to what would likely sound absurd, especially coming from someone who looked as Click now did.
Most unfortunately, Click didn’t have time to follow the man around outside of the set to be sure of his assumptions; already Click had taken too much time to find someone to bring back with him. So, a few days after observing the man, Click followed the actor home. And once it was clear they were alone, Click made himself known to the man.
Click-click-click.
“I say, where in the dickens did you come from?!” The man practically yelped, putting a chair between himself and the tin soldier that was suddenly just there. He reached a hand to his head, fingers tangling through a short mop of wavy hair. “I’ve gone and hit my head, haven’t I?”
It was a rather entertaining reaction to something inexplicably appearing from out of nowhere when one thought they were all alone.
Click greeted the wary man with a tilt of his fake head, not bothering to explain that his eyes were the six golden buttons on his chest, and three mouths could spilt open along the trailing black decoration between the buttons with sharp teeth.
Later.
If and when it was necessary for this would-be hero before him, should the actor choose to play along.
Click-click-click.
“Is that normal for you to be making that noise?” The man asked. “It doesn’t seem natural, you know. How is it that you’re moving? Is this some kind of new hazing within the studio?”
More chatter than Click had seen from the man when he’d been in the studio, as the actor had mentioned.
No matter.
There wasn’t enough time to pick someone else, now that Click had shown himself to the man. Before the actor could ask even more questions, Click spoke.
“Do you want to be a hero?”
~
Click had regrets.
Many, many regrets, really.
But choosing this current hero?
The biggest regret of Click’s entire life (or death, whichever way one wanted to look at it).
This hero was not who he appeared to be, this hero.
Click should have known better than to choose someone based off how they acted on the job, versus how they acted when eyes were off of them.
This hero was utterly insufferable.
The man ran his mouth ceaselessly, whether or not Click had any answers in-between. Despite wanting nothing more than to hate this hero who had taken on the role Click had held before, this hero was frustratingly capable of getting through dicey situations (at times with intervention from Click himself when the tin soldier deemed it necessary). Click had gotten some grim amusement out of the first time he used his rifle made up of his arm to fire on some Fears that had surrounded himself and his hero.
The hero?
“I say, that was quite a shoot of a surprise.” He just laughed (nervously) and tipped his boater hat to Click in thanks. Then the hero tapped his bamboo cane to the ground alongside the remnants of the Fears shot down. “What good aim, too. Though I don’t suppose we could be a tiny bit more careful about possible ricochets?” The hero lifted his suit coat out to the side to proffer the hole that had gone through the fabric during a dodge.
“I missed you, didn’t I?” Click responded indifferently, as his arm shifted back to an arm, metal hand flexing. “With all of your scrambling about as well, I might add.” Smoke finished curling out from his multiple mouths on his chest, and out the mouth of the fake head. Click’s mouths twisted in ire when the hero came closer, the man not having to stoop to look at Click’s golden button eyes.
“That you did, and for that, I’m grateful.” Swinging the cane up over his shoulder, the hero hummed thoughtfully. “Where did you say we were headed before that interruption?”
“…the Market.”
“I see. And from its name I gather that there are goods to trade and such?” The hero looked around, then turned back to Click, a frown slipping across his face. “Something the matter, Click?”
“Nothing.” The three smiles twisted into cooked smiles when the hero’s eyes studied him closely. “All is well, with the Fears dealt with.”
“If you’re certain…” The hero replied dubiously, staring at the immobile tin soldier’s face, before falling into step alongside him as Click continued on whatever path that apparently would lead them to the Market.
~
This hero made it to the Market after all.
What a surprise.
Click wondered how much longer this hero would last, with the close calls that had been had on the way here. Yet onward they travelled, until something became clearer than ever before that Click felt he’d noticed but hadn’t really paid much heed to.
This hero was a damned coward, the bravado, the confidence a front to hide a crippling fear of inadequacy to fulfill the role of ‘hero’ he had agreed to when he accepted Click’s offer.
But infuriatingly, luck was on the hero’s side, though it was through Click’s weapons and precision at shooting the enemies that helped the hero be that lucky. Click could count a few times where, had he not intervened, the hero would have been overtaken, and fail as Click had failed. This hero would be doomed to be twisted to fit this world’s inhabitants, no longer human, but something else.
Maybe even a monster.
Already the hero had lost his suit coat, the braces over the dress shirt fiddled within an inch of its life. The cane was twirled absently through the dark journey to the market (hitting Click several times; it didn’t hurt, but it was rather irritating).
Click was uncertain how much longer the hero could go on should the tin soldier choose to stop assisting him, stepping in to prevent injury and schisms. But if this hero could get to the end, Click believed that he could cut in last minute to fulfill the role of ‘hero’ that had been denied to him.
Time would tell…except Time wasn't easy to pin down with how often Time moved about.
After a visit for new amour (and surviving the hero’s inane chattering about the logistics of it all), they were off from the relative safety of the Market. The hero would have to last until the end, and it was to be seen if he could manage it without Click’s continued interference, and the knowledge that the hero’s bravado and calm was false.
It was simply too much to deal with, Click decided, coupled with the hero’s incessant chattering that continued on, that led Click to his decision not too far from the safety of the Market. With an excuse of needing to gather more material than intended, Click backtracked to the Market with the unwitting hero.
The hero only realized what was going on when he suddenly noted that he no longer had his guide.
Where had the tin soldier gone?
Onward without him?
From the shadows nearby, Click watched dispassionately as his hero was slowly overwhelmed by Fears and Doubts. Turning away, Click waited until the deed was done. He doubted that there would be much left of the human that had come here to the world of make believe with him.
Click waited, until a shiver ran through him as a shadow loomed over him. Click kept his golden button eyes forward in the dark as he spoke.
“He wasn’t the hero I thought he would be. A coward of an actor who hid behind a grandiose guise and ceaseless chattering like a telly someone left on. His cool and calm demeanor in the face of danger was a lie made manifest here time and time again.”
A twinge of guilt that rose was crushed when Click saw the former hero collapse nearby after being seen to by Her. Seeing as he was in one piece, Click assumed this meant he would be allowed to find another hero, since he was still standing. Click stared down at the former hero, unbothered by the static pleas that rose from the now-television headed monster that lie on the ground near the Market entry, a trembling hand held out toward Click.
The tin solider turned away, abandoning the former hero behind him to whatever fate this world would bestow upon him from that point forward, as there would be no returning to his old life. Click needed an actual hero and not a coward; Click needed who the former hero had been when he was acting.
The next time Click passed through the Market with a new hero, his former hero now went by the name ‘RGB.’ Click avoided him, and told himself that it wasn’t guilt that kept him away from RGB.
It was better that way, for both of them.
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The sound I made. lmao I love it.
DAY EIGHT- ROLE SWAP
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Day 7- Doubt
I find RGB’s interactions with the previous heroes fascinating, and I like to wonder what those interactions would be like when RGB is alone/between heroes. So oops, this turned into a longer one-shot with RGB and Click.
Additional note: I still think about that panel of RGB seeing Click in the Market and Click pointing and making the shooting motion at RGB. In this one-shot, RGB isn't aware of where Click's eyes actually are. Some tags/etc. since this is longer:
Angst, torment/pain via shooting, violence, RGB/suffering, taunting, RBG running his mouth doesn’t do him any favors with Click, musing over the concept of pain both physical and mental for RGB, reminding one of one’s failures with a similar departure, some hurt/comfort (a lil RGB/Madras if you squint), despair/resignation/acceptance when the same thing happens again.
~
RGB didn’t notice the Doubts gathering nearby as the futility of what he was attempting to accomplish began to feel like a huge waste of effort. RGB should just give up, instead of fighting, and finally accept what was fast becoming inevitable.
And yet…
RGB can’t stop now.
Despite the hurt that came from becoming attached to his previous heroes who had failed, RGB just couldn’t stop now. Not after all he’d done to find the loophole that he was currently taking advantage of. And he knew better, now, after a few heroes, to be a little more careful so he didn’t end up in another situation where he had to abandon his hero to their doom.
Once was enough.
Once was enough to make the guilt linger, even if RGB told himself that it was for the best.
Click had not been what RGB thought he would be as a hero.
RGB’s walk had slowed as his thoughts briefly dwelt on the failed (and abandoned) hero. RGB could only hope that the next hero (after Click, and the last few) would surely be able to go on longer and succeed compared to those who came before? RGB needed to shake off the malaise that was plaguing him before he could not even accomplish going to find a hero again and-
Ah.
That explained his current train of thought.
RGB had come across the field of Doubts.
What terrible luck.
RGB was soon surrounded by many of the creatures, no longer squabbling amongst themselves. The telly-headed monster staggered along, occasionally tearing away Doubts that began to cling to him.
Almost out of the field.
Just a little further.
Click-click-click.
That sound…
Click-click-click.
Now, of all times?
Click-click-click.
RGB unwillingly stopped in place at the sound, wondering if he’d had a shadow the entire time he'd been going back to the beginning.
“Click.” RGB greeted, not turning around just yet as he raised his hands up and away from his pockets. No matter how much he wanted to go for something that might give him time to get away from Click, and any possible hurt that came with his appearance. Unless, of course, Click had changed his view of RGB, yet that was-
BANG!
Pain flared through RGB’s left leg, making him stagger then collapse to his right knee, swiftly using the cane in his hand to bat away a few Doubts that had wiggled closer as his other hand braced in the grass.
A bullet clattered nearby.
“Not even a greeting, Click?” RGB questioned, managing to speak without obvious agony; like he was just having a chat with an old friend. An old friend understandably upset with RGB’s previous action. “I thought a little repertoire might happen before you shot me, though as you see, it went right through me.”
The sound of the weapon could be heard being repositioned.
RGB knew what had Click after him.
Click knew as well RGB that the television-headed monster had abandoned him to a doomed fate. And now Click was within range of his guide turned enemy, again seeking to remove that which caused his inevitable demise in this world.
“You know, I thought we had quite a good chat before coming to this world." RGB had yet to reach for his suit coat, and every passing second he stood there meant being overwhelmed by the Doubts, or shot. "Surely, we could have that civil a conversation again? I am on a bit of a schedule here; I’m sure you understand that.”
A few clicks, a gnashing of unseen teeth, despite the fact RGB was fairly certain Click had none.
Not anymore.
“Even if I know you’re not precisely, ah, pleased with my previous decisions and actions, I’m sure you know it’s a, well, unfortunate 'duty' of mine to continue to find new heroes, correct?”
Silence but for the ever-sounding click-click-click that accompanied the former hero turned a tin solider in this place.
“My dear fellow, I don’t suppose we could take this conversation you clearly insist upon having to a less hostile environment?" RGB wheedled, doing his best to figure out a way to defuse the situation, so to speak. "I do think we may have had some sort of misunderstanding when first we met, and I can’t help but think that this has carried over after your…change in appearance, and the incidents that followed thereafter.”
“As before, you speak too much.” A voice of three in one spoke aloud at last. Another click, as metal creaked and moved, changing shape. “And I think this field is fitting, for someone like you.”
“How do you figure that?” RGB batted away another Doubt with his cane, his other hand’s fingers digging into the ground with unease.
The muzzle of the rifle lightly pressed between where RGB’s shoulder blades would be.
“Your doubts about me…your doubts about the ability of this place to be saved; despite trying again and again…you abandoned me. Left me to die, and become what I am now, after you killed the 'me' before that." Click harshly grated through the three-toned voice. “You’ve doubted all previous heroes brought to this cursed place, haven’t you? Doubted their skill to keep up with you in this madness. For your heroes to understand the rules without being told, unless pressed with a question for an answer." Click’s voice became rough and laced with fury underlying pain. “Doubted their ability to do what you were unable to accomplish, leading us all to be pawns in your attempt to make things right that you yourself couldn’t?”
“I don’t know what you mean by that.” RGB couldn’t quite hold his unease over being called out like that, but he figured some of the previous heroes, and now Click, had figured him out, and saw through his facade. Though RGB's thoughts were dashed when the muzzle of the rifle lowered a tad.
BANG!
A bullet whizzed through where his right thigh would be.
The cane fell with a muted thump to the grassy ground as RGB’s hand joined his other in the grass. He held himself up, arms trembling as the agony of both the bullet wounds traveled through him unseen, the second stringing pain traveling through his thigh. RGB’s other leg was as about to shift to balance on his hands and knees to not topple over, when Click moved.
Click-click-click.
RGB wordlessly winced when Click stepped on his wounded left leg, grinding the boot now a rifle butt down as the rifle made from Click's own arm moved with the lifting of said arm. RGB briefly found his voice. “I don’t suppose we could-"
BANG!
BANG!
Twice more the rifle went off, one shot going through RGB’s left shoulder blade, while the second shot flashed through the upper arm of his right.
RGB’s voice became wrought with static as he gracelessly collapsed to the grass, just barely turning his television head to the side to avoid having the glass crack upon impact. Seeing as it was grass, there was likely no need to worry, but RGB wasn't going to tempt fate further that dat.
The 'boot' moved off of RGB’s leg.
Click-click-click.
BANG!
Another shot, this time through RGB’s lower back. Then, the rifle roughly pressed to the back of his telly-head.
“If you want target, might I suggest the rather abundant population of Doubts that are surrounding us?” RGB wheezed out through the speaker, color dripping excessively down from his screen, several emotions overwhelming him all at once. RGB tensed when he felt the barrel of the rifle shift, almost thoughtfully, to one of RGB's vents. “Taking on those Doubts might be able to help with some of that built up anger of yours.” The rifle moved again to roughly press back against the back of RGB’s head. “Or you could do this, I suppose.”
“Like I said before-“ Clicking and metal sound overlapped before a hand reached around RGB's shoulder to seize the volume control on the front of his television screen. “You speak too much, but for what I have in mind-“ Click cranked up the volume to its max setting. “I want you to be heard. To scream.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. As much pain as you could cause me and the 'hurt' that it brings won't make me ‘scream.’" RGB commented, his voice now very loud. Conveniently, the Doubts didn’t like it and had moved a little way away from him and Click. “More of a static feedback, I suppose? I’m not really one for screaming and all that. I can certainly talk more if you’re keen on that conversation and are done with shooting me.” RGB’s arms ache as he braced himself when Click irritably used both his hand and the one currently used as a weapon to roughly flip RGB over onto his back. Staring up at Click, the blank-faced soldier appeared cold and unwavering. This gave RGB pause. What was he planning and-
“I want you to feel helpless when they come for you.” Click’s otherwise stationary head tilted to the side, the gold buttons on his solid jacket shimmering. It was if they, too, were eyes that were giving RGB their whole attention as Click's arm turned weapon lowered from the center of his screen to his chest, just below the bow tie.
“Who do you-“
BANG!
A bigger, more painful flare of agony tore through RGB’s chest, dragging out what he thought couldn’t be brought out so easily. A scream of agony, despite knowing no real harm was done to something not truly there, or what was already gone.
Click-click-click.
The muzzle of the rifle moved to the side as Click awkwardly knelt alongside RGB, body shifting metal in order to do so as Click gripped a handful of fabric to yank RGB partly upright off the grass. For whatever reason, Click was leaning over past his television-head, Click's chest level with RGB’s television screen versus the toy soldier’s head. Maybe he couldn’t bend that far with what his body now was?
RGB’s screen was fuzzing and static, the technicolor smile slipping to a thin line of pure agony. But through this, and the jostling via Click’s hand, RGB could have sworn the decorative detail across Click’s chest formed into three sharp smiles, the buttons gleaming on either side of these. It gave off the impression of three faces gleefully enjoying the clear pain RGB was experiencing despite the lack of blood from any of the bullet holes in RGB’s suit coat and pants legs.
“The Fears.” Click responded to RGB's earlier question as he jammed the rifle point-blank against RGB’s chest, just to the side of the hole the previous bullet had made. Click leaned in close, those buttons are like eyes, piercing RGB, the imagined smiles twisting up in sadistic pleasure. “Scream, and suffer, like you made me suffer when you abandoned me to my fate in this place of make believe.”
BANG!
White-hot agony tore through RGB this time, barely noticing that he’d been let go of as the back of his telly-head roughly hit the ground.
Some other gunshots went off, as well as a loud blast, but neither of these were aimed at RGB.
The Doubts?
RGB felt a hint of doubt but it wasn’t as strong as before.
“Good luck getting to your next victim.” Click called out from a further distance. “The Fears have come. They sense yours rising.”
Ricocheting bullets scattered around RGB, dispersing of the remainder of the nearest doubts.
RGB could feel the fear creeping in, drawing in the Fears, the jagged lines of their bodies drawing nearer through the grass.
“Should you survive this, know I will always be around to find you again.”
The click-click-click-ing grew quiet, until it could no longer be heard.
Click knew better than to test a large crowd of Fears, or even a Grief, should it show up, knowing well he didn't want to be caught and overwhelmed like when he'd been a hero, and been abandoned by the one who'd asked him if he wanted to be hero.
RGB’s limbs trembled, but he couldn’t find the strength to get up. He was frozen by pain and the growing fear.
Click-click-click.
Wait.
Why was he coming back?
Why did Click-
SPLASH!
RGB let out a garbled static gasp, fear skyrocketing as he felt the water get into his vents and inside his television head and-
STAB!
The Fear!
RGB weakly reached up to grapple at the head of the Fear but his hands lost their strength, thudding limply to the ground. Other Fears closed in, while the Click-click-click of Click’s retreat could be heard, the tin soldier agreeing to be a hero and being abandoned by RGB, now abandoning RGB had him, and however many other heroes suffered a similar fate.
Another Fear stabbed into RGB’s body; as he lost his vision of the world as his screen went out.
A long blank of nothingness hung around RGB until, with an unnecessary gasping breath, RGB woke up in a different area. An area close to where he went through a door to go recruit a new hero for a doomed narrative.
How…had he gotten here?
Hadn’t RGB been overwhelmed by the fears, after being shot many times by Click, and then splashed water as an effort to ensure RGB might be taken out?
RGB placed the back of his hand across the top of his screen to stare up at the sky overhead.
Well, that had been quite an awful experience, even if Click did have justification to use him as target practice.
The aches remain, as did the bullet holes in his clothing. RGB would have to have the amour repaired or replaced. But that would take more time to go back to the Market and only give Click a chance to find him again, to try and take his revenge for what RGB had done to him.
Standing stiffly, RGB brushed off his suit and pants as best he could, adjusted his boater hat, and picked up his cane that had miraculously appeared with him, instead of being left behind in the field.
A question of how would have to be left for another time.
As much as RGB didn’t think it would be best to go look for a hero while sporting bullet holes in his person, RGB couldn’t dally any longer. Surely there would be at least one person interested in being a hero who wouldn’t be put off by the sight?
As it turned out, RGB had found someone to be the hero of the story. He brought them through a brief gauntlet before the two managed to get a little breather in the House of Paint.
The hero did, that is.
While the hero slept, RGB was subjected to Madras’ concern as she took her price of two pints in return for replacing all the items RGB had lost when Click shot him in the chest, shattering the glass vials hidden beneath.
RGB, once the pints were taken and the vials were stored, went upstairs and sat down, Madras joining him briefly to lean against his back, arms around his shoulders.
They remained there in silence until RGB broke it.
“Click shot me. Multiple times., at that.”
Madras’ arms merely tightened around him, encouraging RGB to continue.
“I don’t think he is interested in talking to me.”
“Would you, in his position?” Madras asked.
“After what happened?” RGB was quiet. His head hung a little. “No.”
“I’ve told you before to not get attached.”
“I know.” RGB’s voice was quiet, despite not turning the volume of the television down. Right, when had that happened? Wasn't it at high volume before?
“You can’t help it.” Madras said.
It wasn’t a question.
“Does that make me a fool?”
“It makes you vulnerable.” Madras poked a finger through a hole in RGB’s suit-coat. “It makes you hesitate.”
RGB said nothing as he turned his head in the direction of the door.
“Don’t get attached.”
“It’s like you said.” RGB’s right hand reached up to rest over one of Madras’ hands. “I can’t help it.”
Madras’ eye settled on a mirror in the corner of the room and saw the self-deprecating multi-colored smile stretching across the lower third of RGB’s screen as his other hand gripped the cane tight.
No more words were spoken.
RGB wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but when he woke, he led his newest hero from the House of Paint.
Not a day later, RGB lost them.
Click may have a point; whether or not RGB intended to, whether he left his hero behind intentionally, or did his best to keep his hero safe and well, something inevitably went wrong. This led to them being trapped within this world of make believe, resentful or hateful toward RGB, unable to go home even after the hero was no longer the hero of the story.
One of these times had to be different.
It had to be.
RGB couldn't keep doing this when he was unable to fully detach himself from the situation and he inevitably, in one way or another, became attached to the heroes he brought here.
#the property of hate#the property of may#tpoh fanfic one-shot#tpoh rgb#tpoh click#it seems like someone may have talked click’s ear off so now click has no patience for rgb’s gabbing after what happened#wow this got long#I present fanfic in place of fanart
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Day 4- Spiral, Day 5- Thinking, Day 6- Glitch (writing snippets):
Spiral: (literal self-loathing, rescue, hugs)
RGB got trapped in an unseen quicksand that, while slowly pulling him down, sent him into self-loathing, which paralyzed him in place and prevented him from trying to escape.
Before RGB became too trapped within the sand or the self-loathing (that was only getting worse), Hero used the cane to fish RGB out. It was tricky, but Hero was able to drag RGB along the sand to a patch of highly convenient grass to hastily smack the horseshoes back in place that had somehow come off.
RGB was able to continue on due to this but he was in a daze of sorts, eerily quiet for someone who talked so often.
The silence stretched on.
The self-loathing from within lingered for quite a while.
When the two sides if them stopped for the night, Hero went over to RGB once he’d slumped down to rest.
A hug isn’t unwelcome, per se, but RGB was unable to return it or even really notice the aforementioned embrace. Eventually, RGB’s television screen switched the amount of certain colors that dripped down. Then, he eventually sagged into the hug from Hero, RGB’s shoulders slumped and antenna drooping backward as a crackly sigh emitted.
Thinking: (fluff and humor)
Hero has some thoughts that came to her while walking along.
This thinking gave RGB the equivalent of a headache when the thoughts Hero was having formed into plot bunnies that were either attempting to hide in his suit coat or eat it; whichever the menaces decides to do first, and there seemed to be neither rhyme nor reason to it.
Hero played with the bunnies as more gathered around her, at least until RGB is forced to scoop Hero up. After tucking her under his arm, RGB made a run for it as the plot bunnies begin to multiply, faster and faster, as some of the plot bunnies began to show signs of becoming an idea.
Dangerous.
Hero must have vaguely remembered what happened with an idea the last time, because there was no protest from her to be set down.
Thankfully, the two new ideas that had formed began to eat the multiplying plot bunnies, the ideas growing bigger, only for the ideas (and the last few plot bunnies) to become transfixed by a puddle of water.
RGB kept on running; a problem for another day.
Glitch: (some action, negative shows up, interaction, humor)
RGB panicked as Fears chased after him and Hero, many more than was reasonably feasible to deal with.
Only to trip and fall, tumbling over and over, even as RGB held Hero within the protective cage of his arms, against his chest, despite all that panic until they came to the edge of a cliff.
And fell, after being rammed into by the Fears that had been in pursuit, the Fears flailing as they, too, fell down the cliff.
Seeing as Hero was already crying. She swiftly swiped a finger to the corner of her eye before slapping it hastily to r the television vent.
RGB let out an exasperated noise even as his arms held tight to Hero.
Silence, then static.
Negative.
Hero clung to Negative around the shoulder and beneath an arm in the event that he let go of her. To her surprise, Negative kept one arm wrapped around her back as his other hand snapped out to seize a Fear’s head, and snapped it off, lashing out at the other Fears attempted to fall toward them. Once done with that, Negative jammed the Fear’s fears head into the cliff wall, and slowed their descent, even if it was a little jarring. Silence, and with a firmer hold around Hero’s back, as Negative’s head tilted back.
Hero’s face pressed into his shoulder.
There was the sensation of gravity being displaced.
When Hero peeked to the side, she and Negative were suddenly back at the top of the cliff.
There were no other Fears about.
Safe, for now.
Hero trembled as Negative, cane in hand (had he used it to help them back up?) began to walk. Hero’s whole body shook too much to think to switch Negative back to RGB, so she just clung to him until he stopped walking. Gentler than Hero thought possible, based off previous times seeing him, Negative was careful as he pried her off his person to set her down, kneeling as he did so.
The two stared at one another.
Hero studied the eye on the monochrome screen, as Negative stared at her in return without much of a change in expression.
At least until he sat down and the eye flattened itself as if in displeasure.
Hero cracked up immediately upon seeing the reason why; he’d sat in a shallow paddle. What Hero didn’t see was the single eye on the screen softening a tad when the gaze went to her, before it curved beneath in mischief.
A splash of water at Hero, whose laughter grew louder.
Unfortunately, entertaining a child meant the child would have their revenge; Negative did not see the splash coming until it was too late to block it, but he did at least see the humor in it.
Hero’s laughter slipped into an alarmed gasp.
Once RGB’s body stopped glitching out, he spluttered aloud a proclamation, with a grandiose wave of his hand in the air. “Fiddlesticks! What in the-what did I say about water and electricity not mixing?! Do not do that again!”
Hero burst out laughing again when a lie scooted out from behind RGB not a moment later.
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Little fic snippets to go with the pics for each day:
Note-mainly just RGB and Hero in these snippets. In first one, I’m fairly sure a pin wouldn’t offset RGB’s design, but I still did the ‘this is you, this is mine’ thing because I thought it was cute (DadGB stuff whee)
Day 1- Knight: (fluff)
Hero puttered about the House of Paint in a rather fruitless endeavor to find some items that could make her look like a heroic figure in armor. For most of this time, she ignored RGB’s needling of her efforts from where he lie flat on his back on the floor, boater hat resting atop his screen.
RHB startled when Hero came over to sit on his chest. Shifting, RGB let his hat slide off to the side to be caught in one had, as the other lifted to rub at the side of his television head as he focused on Hero. The technicolor smile twitched as Hero, with a large blanket over her shoulders, promptly laid down on top of RGB.
In the same motion, Hero managed to get the blanket to cover both of them. The blanket slid a little to the side as Hero put something on the hole in his lapel.
“Hero, what are you-“
“You mentioned wanting a button hole your lapel, back in The Market. So I wondered if a pin would work.” Satisfied once the item was attached, Hero rested her head on RGB’s chest. Pointedly poking the pin, Hero said. “This is you. This is yours.”
“…This is me. This is mine.” One of RGB’s hands rested over the pin, his other arm slipping out from under the blanket to lie over top of it, across Hero’s back. “Thank you.” RGB said after a moment, as he traced the pin to take a guess at what it was. It felt like the shape of a cane, the curved handle low and held by a caricature of a hand-
Ah.
A squeeze in his non-existent chest, a gush of color running off the television.
“Good night, Hero.” RGB’s hand loosely curled over the pin.
“G’night, dad.” Hero answered drowsily, already halfway to sleep.
Another sharp twang to the chest. RGB would unpack that later.
Much later.
Day 2- Shards (angst, just angst)
Hero collected shards of glass scattered on the ground with worry etched across her face. With every couple of pieces she found, Hero carefully placed them onto a handkerchief that she’d taken out from one of RGB’s sleeves.
The monster in question was propped up against a nearby tree, slumped, the screen of his television head a shattered mess.
It could have been quick, or it could have been excruciatingly slow, but Hero finally gathered all of the pieces together.
Hero wasn’t sure if her plan would work but before any Doubts could make their way over to her, Hero began to put the pieces of glass back together like a puzzle. To Hero’s surprise, pieces of the screen seemed to seal together on its own as hunks of the glass joined together. When there was a sizable enough piece, it was placed carefully along the lines of jagged glass still on RGB’s broken screen.
(His broken face)
It remained a mess, but Hero was relieved to not find any holes in the screen but for the dents where each piece connected together.
Good.
That meant she’d found all the pieces that had broken off.
Hero settled next to RGB, pulling one of his limp arms over her shoulder to cling to while she waited for him to wake up. The end of the world was nearing, but Hero wouldn’t leave him behind. She waited, sleepily leaning into the monster’s side as she clung harder to his arm.
Hero waited longer. And waited even longer still, determined that RGB would pull through this incident like he had others before.
Day 3- Control: (angst, musings of RGB’s situation)
There was no control in this life if his (was It a life if he was dead?Was it an afterlife, or a poor facsimile of a life that he now lived but for the loopholes he’d taken advantage of).
But he could stop, if he wanted to.
He could let it all end.
RGB was coward enough that it would be so easy for him to do just that; stop.
Give in.
And yet, he continued on, stubborn despite the futility of it all.
RGB held another form of control that he could reach; a loophole given and found through extra time, in exchange for whatever memory he could afford to lose to continue on a chosen path.
A plan was set; RGB chose his hero.
Then again.
Again and again, he chose, when the previous hero failed, or RGB fled (or abandoned) the hero in shame for not picking the correct ‘hero’ to save this world. RGB could control the pace of the journey; where to rest, what places to avoid. When able, of course. The pit stop to The Market, in an effort to have the best amour for protection when it seemed like the hero RBG had chosen just might be the one.
…it wasn’t enough.
It never was.
RGB stared down at the city below him from atop the clouds, before he made his way down, a hand clenched around his cane, and the other atop his hat. The spring in his step had lessened; the excitement to find someone to end this all had been long since lost.
The hero RGB found this time around would have to be better than the last.
RGB didn’t…couldn’t, keep at this for much longer.
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Starting a new side-blog with this!
The property of may 2024
Here we goooo!!!
Thank you you all for your suggestions!
The property of May is an event open for: Artists, writters, musicians, cosplayers, weavers, crafters, you name it! All creatives are welcome!
Remember you can take this prompt list as you wish! Use a bunch of words for a single work, making one per week, or use them day by day, whatever fits you! We are excited to see what you all do!
Remember to tag your creation with #the property of may so we can see it and reblog it :D
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