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silvershewolf247 · 10 months ago

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1988 Good Guy Doll Restoration

Glen wondered how life had come to this. Picking through mutilated and blood soaked doll corpses strung up and impaled around a murder cabin. Part of Glen was just relieved the bodies didn’t or couldn’t rot. They felt for the strongest, most intact parts and took them off with their new razor saw. It was a bloody mess that left them with a paper bag filled with doll parts with blood soaking through and dripping out the bottom. They took the doll clothes they had stripped off one of them and tossed it into the wash. Then they dumped the plastic and flesh into the sink and turned on the sprayer to soak them.

They grabbed a sponge and started cleaning the blood and dirt off all of the corpse bits. But even after they were scrubbed clean, Glen could see watered down blood trailing along the plastic pieces. The trail began at the shoulder of one of the severed arms. Glen picked it up and as it dripped into the sink, they realized with horror that the arm was still bleeding. Glen dropped it like it was burning and tried not to vomit. Then they realized that they’d need to drain the parts if they were going to do this properly. Glen took a deep breath, put on their crafting playlist, and got to work.

It took them about 5 and a half songs to fully rinse out the body parts, and another 4 songs to finally clean them off properly afterwards. Glen was amazed how the previously bleeding parts now looked entirely like doll parts. Thoroughly drying them took them through the end of the playlist. They took the doll clothes out of the washer and popped them into the dryer. Next was the hardest part; the head.

They hadn’t seen much of the head, but they had seen enough. The damage was extensive, worse than anything Glen had seen during any restoration, in person or on youtube. Glen went over to the frankensteined monstrosity Mixter had put together and left on the shelf. Taking their scissors, they snipped the fishing line that held the mangled head to the charred body. The stitches came out smoothly, and the head popped off easily. They took it in their hands and walked it over to the table covered in newspaper. A clamp sat on top of it, and there was a colorful bag next to the table filled with Glen’s tools.

“Nice set of toys ya got Glen” the head said. Glen yelped and dropped it.

“Fuck,” Chucky said as he rolled under the couch.

“Sorry!” Glen shouted, they got on their hands and knees and looked under the couch.

“I… I’m still not totally used to the talking doll thing,” Glen continued.

“It’s fine, kiddo, I’ve dealt with much worse,” Chucky said as Glen reached for his head.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be able to talk in your state,” Glen said as they picked him up and set him on the table.

“Your dad’s a tough cookie, gonna take a lot more than Barclay throwing a fit to take me out,” Chucky said. Glen was amazed he could still smirk. They put him into the clamp. Glen took out the pliers. And for a split second, their father winced. Glen grabbed onto a nail in the back of his head. Their father grimaced as Glen twisted the nail to loosen it. It was buried deep. Chucky let out a stream of curses as Glen kept pulling.

Glen had to put their leg onto the table to get some purchase. But it finally came out. Glen dropped the loose nail into a cleaned out queso jar with a clink.

“Fuck, that. was. intense!” Chucky said. Glen let out something between an exhale and a laugh,

“I could go for a cigarette, I don’t know about you,” Chucky continued.

“I don’t smoke,” Glen said.

“Ah! Ya should, it’s fun,” Chucky responded. Glen was quiet for a second, they fixed their pliers around another nail. Chucky cringed as they pulled it out, this one came out easier, but not without some twisting and pulling from Glen. Glen dropped the nail next to its twin with another clink.

“You know, when I was warned about people trying to get me to smoke. I did not think my dad would be the one doing it,” Glen said.

“Have I ever pretended to be a good influence,” Chucky said. He winced as Glen went for the nail buried an inch above his ear. Maybe he was just adjusting to it, maybe it was because the first one hurt so much. But it didn’t hurt as much. Another twist, pull, and clink.

“You’ve pretended to be a lot of things,” Glen replied.

“You're still mad about me tricking you,” Chucky said.

“You mean kidnapping me,” Glen said, gripping the nail in his ear with the pliers.

“For the last time Glen. You can’t kidnap your own child,” Chucky said. Glen yanked out the nail, eliciting a shout from Chucky.

“You’re so… confidently wrong,” Glen said as they pulled the nail away from their father and dropped it with the group. Chucky didn’t respond for a minute. Glen grabbed a screw at the top of his head. Glen tried to pull it out as swiftly as the last nail. Chucky winced, when the threads kept it in place.

“Fuck kid!” Chucky exclaimed.

“Sorry! I thought it would come out like the nails,” Glen said.

“Who taught you how to use tools,” Chucky said. Glen started unscrewing with the pliers.

“Well… my dad was busy… harassing his ex-girlfriend, her child… and the kindergartener who slighted him,” Glen’s response was broken up by them struggling to free the screw from their father’s plastic skull. Chucky let out a few broken up screams until Glen finally got the screw out. It was quiet for a moment.

“Harsh… but fair,” Chucky said, trying to catch his breath. Glen grabbed the last screw. It came out rather easily, almost anti-climatic. Glen dropped it in with the rest. Glen picked up the bloody nails and screws and shook the glass in Chucky’s face.

“All done,” Glen said in a sing-song voice. Chucky gave a small smile and chuckle. Glen went back to the kitchen and grabbed the head they had picked out for their father. They lined it up with their father’s head and marked up the new head. Glen popped their father out of the vice and put the other head in his place. Then they picked up their X-Acto knife. Glen lined it up to the marks, leaned in, used one hand to move the bangs out of the way, steadied their hands, took a deep breath, and got ready to carve into the lifeless head. Then their father chimed in.

“Be careful not to mess up the hair,” he said, startling Glen. Glen let out a yelp, fumbled, and cut their finger.

“Dad!” Glen exclaimed. They were silent for a second. Chucky was smiling again. Glen was confused.

“You called me dad,” Chucky said. Glen suddenly realized they hadn’t called him dad since they got here. Glen took a deep breath. They wanted to bring up the cut, but they didn’t think he’d care. Glen left to get a bandage.

“What were you trying to tell me,” Glen said, sighing as they walked back in.

“Be careful not to take off too much of the hair. When your mom stitched me up I lost a bunch of it, ended up looking like I was trying that weird half shaved look,” Chucky elaborated.

“Glenda tried that for a bit,” Glen interjected.

“Okay, not the point. It makes me look like my hairline’s receding, like I’m old,” Chucky continued, getting a bit upset.

“You are old and your hairline is receding,” Glen corrected.

“Again, not the point,” Chucky responded, now frustrated. Glen went back into their room. They came out with a small comb and some tiny hair ties that they waved in front of their father’s face excitedly.

Glen parted the hair at the marked line, it took a while to get the knots out, and the comb was filled with red hair by the end. They tied it up to keep it out of the way. Chucky was confused why they tied it in braids.

Glen pulled out the blade, they lined up again. Then they looked to their father before starting. He tried to nod, but could only move his face. Glen cut into it. Glen expected blood, but it was just plastic. The knife went through it smoothly, the cut had a clean edge, and Glen managed to avoid cutting off any hair.

They pulled out the wedge of the doll head. Then they combed their fathers matted hair out of the way before popping it into place. Chucky winced as they stitched it into place. Glen was humming. It sounded like something saccharine. He really needed to get his kids into something good. He thought that maybe he’d grab Andy’s Nirvana collection when they headed back to Chicago. Chucky lost himself a bit, fantasizing about what they’d do when he got back there. He suddenly realized something.

“Have you ever been to Chicago?” Chucky asked. Glen stopped humming.

“No?” They sounded confused at the non-sequitur. Chucky was silent again. Glen went back to sewing and humming. He was unsure why that revelation hit him so hard. There was a time in his life where he had wanted to bring up kids there. A big city filled with life and action. Somewhere a kid would learn to be clever. A tough place that made tough people. Far away from the boring little moralizing suburb he’d grown up in. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize Glen had finished until they took him out the clamp and held them close and then at a distance. Trying to get a good look at their work.

“How’s it feel?” Glen asked. Chucky took everything in.

“I feel lightheaded, everything is louder, all I can taste is blood, and I think I smell strawberries,” Chucky said.

“That’s my perfume, I got it from Hot Topic,” Glen said, smiling, as they took his new hair out of the braids. Chucky sighed and tried not to show his disappointment.

Glen put their father on the stand next to the couch. They moved the clamp away. And grabbed the bag of doll parts. They dumped them onto the table. Chucky watched as they put together the pieces and locked what they could in place before they began stitching. They were humming again.

Chucky found himself impressed, almost hypnotized by their work. Glen was clearly good with their hands. Every movement they made was clean and precise. And their stitches were the neatest he’d ever seen. It made him want to see his face to see if it had turned out as nice as the body was.

As Glen finished their work, Chucky found himself wondering what they could do with that talent and a body. He was pulled out of his thoughts when Glen picked him up and moved him into the sink. Glen put on a pair of blue latex gloves, stretching and snapping them like a surgeon as they did. Chucky looked around confused.

“What are you…” Chucky started, getting interrupted when Glen turned on the faucet.

“Your hair is matted and your face is grimy and covered in blood,” Glen said, as they squeezed a bottle of Johnson’s No Tears shampoo into their hand. They turned off the faucet, and started lathering the shampoo. Chucky sputtered and spat out the water caught in his mouth.

“You could’ve told me that before turning on the faucet,” Chucky said.

“If I told you what I was doing, you might have bitten me before I got you to the sink,” Glen said.

“I don’t bite” Chucky said, Glen looked disbelieving,

“My children,” Chucky added. Glen smiled and laughed, before lathering the shampoo into his hair. Chucky wouldn’t say it outloud. But it was very relaxing. He found himself dozing off a bit. After the wash Glen grabbed the matching conditioner and the comb from earlier. Glen loosened and broke up the matts, then grabbed a tiny doll brush and took care of the knots. By the time they were finished. The comb, brush, their gloves, and the sink, were covered in blood, and whatever else was in there. Glen gave Chucky’s hair one last wash. Cleaned off the brush. And tied Chucky’s hair back up in braids.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Chucky asked.

“Keeps the hair neat and out of the way,” Glen responded. Chucky would’ve shrugged if he had shoulders. Glen took a washcloth and some Dawn and cleaned up his face, neck, and ears. Chucky hadn’t felt this clean in a while.

Glen left him alone in the kitchen while they went to grab something. They came back with the body, fully dressed in clean clothes. Glen popped him onto the new body and stitched him at the neck.

“Try not to move your head and neck too much,” Glen said.

Chucky took a minute. Moved his new feet. Felt his new hands. Clenched his new fists. Then he took his hair out of the braids and shook it loose. Splashing Glen like a wet dog. Chucky went to the bathroom and the nearest mirror, to look at himself. Glen took a breath, wiped the water off their face, and followed him. Chucky was taking in his repaired face with glee.

“What did I just say? If you move your head too much, it might pop off,” Glen said.

“Fine, I’ll be careful until the stitches heal,” Chucky said, exasperated.

“How will they heal? How does that work?” Glen said. They were both quiet for a minute.

“I don’t know, it just does,” Chucky said, clearly also confused. They were silent again.

“Anyway, ya did a great job kid, these stitches are great,” he continued. Glen was beaming with pride.

“One last thing,” Glen said. They showed Chucky a small doll eye. Then they popped it into the empty socket. Chucky squinted and blinked repeatedly as he adjusted. He looked at his hand, first closely, then moving it away, then back again. Then he looked around and smiled.

“Fuck yeah, got my depth perception back,” Chucky said. His reverie was interrupted when they both heard the door open.

Glen walked out. When he first came in, they thought it was their father. But the man who came in looked too upset and weighed down to be their father. Andy seemed like he wanted to say something, and never speak again. His nails were digging into his palms. Their father seemed to already know it was Andy. He walked up to both of them.

“Whaddya think, buddy, I’m looking pretty good. Glen fixed up your little tantrum pretty well,” Chucky said. Andy didn’t respond.

“I think I might even look better than before,” Chucky continued.

“You look great Chucky, it’s good to see you whole,” Andy said. His voice was almost kind, but there was an edge to it. Glen looked at their father for the appropriate reaction. It was confusion.

“Now I can fucking tear you apart again,” Andy said, pure venom in his voice as he moved towards Chucky.

#glen ray tilly #chucky #Chapter 2 AU: Not Out Of The Woods #andy has a cameo #gore tw #blood tw #surgery tw #?#this is the most I have written Glen and Chucky interacting #and apparently I had a lot more content for that then I realized #also partially reposting because I didn't think when I first posted it at 10

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