#((Whirl tried to say kiddo)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Kiddo's Halloween

Katie McCabe x Caitlin Foord x Child!Reader

Summary: The fifth of my Halloween-centric fics

Katie sighs as the whole street fills up with parents in the exact same situation she's in.

Children have flooded the usually quiet neighbourhood, shrieking and screaming and laughing in their little costumes and clanging their buckets around as they approach houses.

You're right by her side, clutching her hand tightly as she adjusts the witches hat on your head. Your little sister, however, was on her leash up ahead, as far ahead as she could get without tugging too hard.

The original plan was matching outfits.

That had been what had happened last year, when Gremlin was still a baby and didn't have opinions like she does now.

You'd been Sully from Monster's Inc and she'd been Mike Wazowski. You'd loved your Sully costume because it was a thick onesie that now's a little too short on the arm and wrists for you to wear outside but still perfect for you to sleep in.

The plan this year had been a pair of mice but Gremlin had kicked and screamed and cried about it so that idea was scrapped and the two of you got put into different costumes.

Gremlin is dressed as an actual gremlin like the ones from the movie that really scared you a few months ago so hasn't been put on since. You're a witch with your pointy hat and witch dress and broomstick.

You shuffle closer to Katie as a group of older kids come sprinting past, leaning heavily against her side and tightening your grip on her hand.

"Mam," Your little voice says," Up, please?"

To be honest, Katie's kind of proud about how long you've lasted.

Halloween is nowhere near your favourite holiday after last year when you got shown Coraline and kept having accidents after nightmares for at least a month.

It had been rough so Katie's proud you've managed to overcome your fear enough to even come out tonight.

"Alright, kiddo," She says," Up we go."

Gremlin still leads the pack ahead, practically sprinting over to one of the houses.

She tries jumping for the doorbell but is nowhere near tall enough.

Her little foot slams onto the concrete as she whirls around to face Caitlin.

"Mummy! Mummy!" She points back at the doorbell. "Mummy!"

"Mummy, please," Caitlin corrects her.

"Mummy! Mummy, now!"

"She gets that from you, you know," Caitlin says to Katie as she moves to ring the doorbell.

The door swings open and Gremlin's already got her hand in the offered bowl before even saying the words.

You do it for her though because you're a good big sister.

"Trick or treat!"

Gremlin's already reaching for her second handful when Katie lowers you down to grab your own.

"Want to swap kids?" She asks Caitlin, who's had to wind Gremlin's leash twice around her hand to stop her from getting too far ahead.

"Are you sure? Will Kiddo be okay with it?"

"She'll be fine. You're cuddlier than me."

Katie takes your sister's leash, further limiting how far Gremlin can go ahead and you go willingly into Caitlin's arms.

Katie's right. Caitlin is very cuddly and she doesn't even put you down to pick out which sweets you want which is a bonus.

But the night is long and you don't seem to have the endless energy that your sister does so the soft rocking back and forth of Caitlin's walk is enough to get you halfway to sleep.

"I think we should get home," Caitlin says, looking down meaningfully at your groggy body against her shoulder," We've still got to get them both in the bath and then bed."

Katie nods. "Yeah, alright." She tugs a little on the leash and Gremlin whirls around.

"What?" She demands, an indignant look on her face.

"Alright, you," Katie says," Home time."

"No! Scare time! Rawr!"

"Very scary," Katie says, completely deadpan," But we've got to go home. We'll have a bath, watch a movie, have some sweeties and then bedtime."

"Scary movie!" Gremlin insists.

"Not too scary," Katie replies, turning around and heading back to the house," We don't want nightmares tonight."

You're still kind of tired when Caitlin sets you down on the floor and Katie switches the light on.

Katie can't work out if it's because you're tired or the light turning on shocked you or if it's genuine fear but you catch a look of yourself, in your scary witch costume, in the mirror and burst into tears.

You crumble to the ground, sobbing. Tears drip down your cheeks as you cry, a little lump on the floor.

"She's bein' weird," Gremlin says, nudging you with her foot and Caitlin sighs.

"Don't kick your sister.

"Not kickin'! Just...touchin'." Gremlin pushes her shoe against you again and Caitlin lifts her up.

"Let's go find the cats and sort out your sweeties. Let's leave Kiddo with your Mam."

Gremlin's still complaining as she's lead away but Katie picks you up easily, allowing you to curl around her as she sits on the stairs.

"It's okay," She says, her voice low and soothing in your ear," It's okay. I've got you. I've got you."

"Scary," You sniffle," 'm scary."

"You're not scary, kiddo," Katie says," I promise you're not."

"I am! Scary, Mam! So scary!"

The tears are never ending and nothing Katie can do will stop them. She doesn't want you to cry yourself out but it seems like it's all she can do.

A soft mew comes from a few steps above and Katie looks back to see your Baby sitting at the top.

"Hiya, Baby," She coos," Did we wake you up?"

Unlike Coopurr and Spicy, Baby spends most of her time asleep. Either sleeping or grooming herself but mostly sleeping.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Kiddo's just a bit scared right now."

Baby hops down a few more steps, little paws coming to rest on your lap.

You turn your head to face her, trying to hide yourself under your scary witch hat.

"Look," Katie coos," Baby's not scared of you."

"Really?"

"Really-Really," Katie says, scooping up your kitten and placing her on your lap.

Baby nuzzles against your cheeks, uncaring that she's getting her pristine fur nice and wet.

"Baby doesn't think you're scary at all."

"Not scary?" You check and Katie nods.

"You're never scary, Kiddo. Even as a witch."

You nod, wiping away your tears as you hold Baby even closer.

"Now," Katie says," Why don't you go and find your sister and Caitlin and have some of your sweeties before bath time?"

You scamper off and Katie finally takes off her coat and shoes.

"Mam!" You call out from the kitchen," Gremlin's eating my sweeties!"

[goldustwomun]

pacifier (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter! reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. anyway, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, cocky sirius and like kind of an annoying younger sister reader (but also that's literally me lol), bad transitions between light hearted banter and angst but i'm trying my best RIP, i imagine sirius to be mid-20s and reader only 3/4 years younger (but everyone is OF AGE), mommy issues if you squint

wc: 4.9k+

note: soooo i'm back :D again :D i'm almost done with second year and actually somewhat ahead with all my papers (with very minimal finals; def recommend being a history major x) and i've just been missing the community so enjoy this! i had this first chapter posted a while back (like maybe a year) but it was actually ass so i've redone it a little :)))) as always, reblogs and comments are MUCH appreciated and i can't wait to interact w/ y'all over this because i have been DAYDREAMING about brother's bf sirius :')

Oh but, babe, you know I've tried and failed But you just don't know how it feels To lose something you never have and never will

“What do you mean he’s working at the shop as well?!” you all but screeched, chasing your Mother around the kitchen, feeling a lot like the pesky youngest child you were. 

“He needs some help so we offered to give him a job. Honestly sweetheart, aren’t you too old for this childish feud?”

“Too old? Shouldn’t you be saying that to him? He’s like– thirty or something, and still continues to be the bane of my existence. Fucking Bla–”

Your Mother whirled on you abruptly, brandishing the wooden spoon she was about to stir the boiling pot with right in your face.

“Oi, language! I would tell him the same but unluckily for you, you’re my daughter and currently living under my roof, so you get to hear it first.” She gave you a saccharine sweet smile, the kind that had you biting back the urge to roll your eyes.

“--now, he’s been gone for such a long time, and we’re all very excited to see him, so don’t ruin this reunion with any more of your tantrums.”

You opened your mouth once more, intent on not letting the argument die there, but your Father bounded into the kitchen at the same moment, ruffling up your hair with a “Hey there, kiddo,” before promptly moving on to snake his hands around your Mother’s waist.

“Looking as beautiful as always, my dear,” he cooed into her ear. She let out an uncharacteristic giggle that had you bolting from the kitchen before you were scarred any further.

Your parents’ tooth-aching affections for each other was just that: sweet, but sickly all the same.

Somewhere inside of you, in between the urge for unattainable perfection and the fear of failure, you yearned for a love like theirs. Something genuine but passionate, able to withstand the test of time.

James, your older brother, had found it with Lily, and their son Harry being a product of their young but no less intense love. 

You loved that kid like he was your own. Would beg James to let you come over, play with the babbling toddler for a few hours, even going as far as to offer up your weekends, encouraging the young couple to “go out, live a little!”. But they were about as infatuated with their own child as you were, and had a never-ending supply of friends who were equally as eager to help out.

And one of those always eager friends was currently pounding his stupid fist against your stupid front door, and you were already riled up from the news your mother had broken to you only moments earlier, head pounding and fists balled into shaking fists, that you couldn’t take seeing his face quite literally in front of you, as well. 

You shoved past James, knocking him back a step as his hand reached for the door to let his best mate in. You caught a glimpse of him on the doorstep, the first in almost two years– hair unruly like he’d just rolled out of bed, long, black strands; newly tanned skin blushing under the heat of the sun; those thick, brooding eyebrows that raised up in your direction – eughh. 

“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” James called at your retreating figure, shouting loud enough to be heard over your heavy footsteps despite the carpeted floor. 

“Ask your best mate over there!” you answered back with a bite, slamming your room door shut.

“Fuck,” he sighed, defeated, yanking his confused friend in and a chucking a thumb towards the stairs. “How’ve you managed to piss her off before you even got here?” he asked incredulously. “Peace– we had peace in this house for the past two years since you’ve been off, and now look–! It’s a bloody riot!”

“Oi– I’ve done nothing,” he moaned indignantly, hanging his coat and scarf on the gold-crested hooks by the door. “--I think,” he added for good measure after a beat. "I mean, I've only just stepped inside."

Sirius had yet to quite grasp why you got under his skin so quick, squirming between his nerves like a misfired electrical impulse.

You’d grown up together, spent every waking moment in each other’s presence when he was at the Potter residence (which happened to be just about always given his own family situation). If books and movies were to be trusted, what with fiction being so reminiscent of real-life, he'd have expected be like some sort of brotherly figure to you.

But even the thought of it had bile creeping up his through, as if it was so unfathomably wrong his body refused to entertain the possibility of it.

So no. Something about you and your irritatingly know-it-all personality, shrill when indignant voice (which was rather often around him), your need to always be right – something about you brought the worse out of him.

Had him constantly searching for something new to point out, to irritate you all over again, hit the nail on your specific head - something to really push you that little bit over the edge. 

It wasn't even like he enjoyed it, watching you get all huffy, nostrils flared, brows knitted together, face verging on a flushed red. Sirisu was well aware that with every jab the two of you threw at each other, things got a little more out of hand.

Right before he had left, two years journeying through the glades of Scotland, then France, Greece, Türkiye, India, Taiwan (he'd been close to everywhere), he had made the mistake of aiming a particularly ruthless dig at you, and watching your face crumple, devastated and defeated, it had finally cracked him inside.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it then, what with leaving the next day, and two years later, it seemed a little too late.

The rest of the Potter family didn’t share your sentiments about Sirius, and rather adored him immeasurably. Had since he’d taken to hiding out in their house after a particularly brutal fight at home when he was only eleven. Heck, he’d even attended every Potter-family gathering, dinner, birthday, you name it, since then. It was why he came over every Sunday for a roast, pudding and some chat – he could never put into words what your family had done for him, the safety, security, home, even, they'd given him when he’d been lost and entirely clueless of what a real family looked like.

So he made the thirty-minute drive, every Sunday, much to your irritation. He plastered on the biggest smile for your Mum, complimenting every minute detail of the meal she cooked for the family, drank a glass of whiskey and smoked a cigar with your Dad; he was even Harry’s favourite, always humming quiet melodies into the youngest Potter’s ear.

With him away, he’d missed out on the family time he usually looked forward to every weekend. Mondays seemed a lot less dreadful after having a belly-full of Mrs Potter’s food.

Still, he’d sent postcards and printed pictures of everywhere he went, the sights he’d seen, people he’d met. It wasn’t the same, not without the lot of you to pester him but he’d needed some time to find himself.

He still wasn’t sure if he’d found what he was looking for, but the money had to have run out eventually so he was back home, ready to work and settle down in his life for once after graduating Hogwarts. 

Sirius followed James into the living room where he found Lily, sipping on a glass of red, sitting by the empty fireplace. Instead, a window had been cracked in to let the temperate wind in.

She perked up as they entered, waving with that soul-wrenching smile of hers that could persuade even the most strong-willed of men into submission. 

“Pads, you’re back!” she called from her seat. "And you've grown a moustache-- interesting choice of facial hair." Sirius, however, raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, ignoring her greeting-slash-judgement as he peered into the empty crib by her side, even going as far as to search under it as if the toddler might have escaped.

“Harry’s gone to bed in the guest room. There was a bit of a shouting match before you arrived,” James explained, sinking into the space beside his wife and pulling her into his side. “Actually, now that I think about it, there was a lot of shouting after you arrived as well.” 

Lily snorted, snuggling into her husband without hesitation, and Sirius couldn’t help but avert his eyes, feeling entirely like he was imposing on an intimate moment as the two of them whispered in the other’s ear.

“Well, don’t mind me. Sitting here, all by my lonesome, no company or polite chatter to partake in, not even my dashing God son to entertain me” he sighed, dramatically, to no one in particular. James rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, chucking a frilly throw-pillow at his face (that’s what they’re for, right?) which he just as easily caught. 

“Har-Har! Ever the clown, Paddy,” James mocked, flipping him off just in time for his Mum to walk in and see.

“James! Don’t aim such crude displays at my son,” she scolded, wrapping her wrinkled arms around Sirius’ shoulders from behind his chair. She leaned down, kissing the top of his head affectionately. Sirius only whimpered in agreement, leaning into her motherly touch and whining on and on about how James was being a right bully. 

“My sweet child, I’ve missed you!” She beamed down at him, and that longing Sirius sometimes felt for his own Mother’s approval, her devotion or fondness, it lessened. 

“But you didn’t– He was just!-- You missed– arghh!” James groaned defeatedly, head flailed back to rest against the sofa, receiving no sympathies from his giggling wife and glaring Mother. “I’m starting to understand why she hates you.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed at that– did you really hate him? Had it gotten to that point?

At the mention of your name but current absence, Mrs Potter ordered, “Go call your sister for dinner, I’ve set the table.” 

He began to protest, failing to come up with a half-decent reason why he can’t walk up the two flights of stairs and pull your petulant frame from your bed– but Sirius interrupted in time, before James could make any more of a fool himself in front of his own Mother.

“I’ll go get her. Got to figure out what I did this time,” he offered coolly. 

Euphemia, that is, Mrs Potter, had a strict no-apparting rule in her house, had lost too many expensive vases from James and Sirius’ apparition-sprees the second they’d turned seventeen.

You already had your licence, having been of legal age for some time, and had, since graduating (top of the class, as you tended to point out, much to your Ravenclaw friends’ dismay) from Hogwarts, found a job at a school in the muggle world, teaching children English Literature in preparation of some exam -- O Levels, you’d called them. 

Sirius thought it to be some sort of torture device - these O Levels – but you’d smacked him across the head in admonishment with whatever book was in your hand before he could say much else. Having a family-run bookshop made it so that the books, or the weapons (in Sirius' mind at least), were in endless supply for you.

Your love for reading had come from him, your Father, from when he’d stay up till the late hours of the night, hushed whispers under your bed sheet so your Mother wouldn’t hear, as he read you the Classics in animated voices that had you completely enchanted. He made sparks fly from the tip of his wand, bright colours that your little eyes couldn’t quite get enough of.

You loved being a wizard, were eternally grateful for the world you lived in and the undeniable awe of it all. But words, books, literature – they were enough magic for you, took you to places you could only ever dream to visit, and had you feeling such all-consuming emotions that sometimes, you wondered if you’d ever make it to the end of the page, or chapter, or book. 

“Oi– your Mum’s put out dinner, she’s calling you downstairs,” he called through the thick wood of your door. 

Sirius didn’t know why he such an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, like he'd swallowed some moldy bread or a particularly strong cider.

He's known you your whole life, watched you graduate from pencil to quill, and then again from Hogwarts.

Two years was a long a time, and the thought of you holding what he had said all those months ago -- what he hadn't meant, not really -- he was dreading the confrontation.

He nudged the door open when you didn’t respond, only to find you slumped across your bed, glaring, silently, at the ceiling and the pale-orange ring of light from the lamp on your bedside table.

You certainly looked different– older, possibly? He couldn’t quite place what had changed, only that he knew something had. In the way you dressed, styled your hair, held yourself. Even the look of your room– no longer plastered in repeated patterns of owls and roses, but instead a single wall painted a burnt umber and with the remaining covered in tapestries and muggle band posters hanging across every wall.

A stack of vinyls were shoved into one side of your room, along with stacks of books, some old and missing a few pages, while others were untouched. 

You heard the door click open, sitting up on your elbows to see a Sirius, oozing an annoying amount of effortless confidence, and leaning against your doorframe. 

Something in your chest stumbled almost immediately. He looked the same as the day he'd scolded you before leaving, and those stupid, brown eyes of his, like murky swamps you wouldn't be caught dead looking into, were training on you.

Though, he might’ve managed to actually tan, now that you really looked at him, imagining the broad planes of his shoulders, hidden by a thin linen button up, were more sun-kissed than milky-pale now. 

Except you refused to even entertain the thought. You were not thinking of him or his skin or his bare chest or--

“What’s with your face?” you asked, already knowing you'd regret the answer.

“Was that meant to be a greeting?” His eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Hi Sirius-- what’s with your face?” you answered, again, between clenched teeth. 

“You changed your room,” was his only response, and really, what did he expect to say to that?

"I did. Figured I'd use your absence wisely," you snarked back, meeting his gaze as you continued, "--you know, finally grow up and all that."

And you hadn't forgotten, but he didn't blame you.

You got up at his lack of silence, walking the few steps up to him, head tilted like a cat, wary of her surroundings but curious nonetheless.

"Was there something you wanted, Sirius?"

And fuck if the way you said his name didn't have him fighting whatever foreign feeling, urge, instinct was shouting at him in that moment.

You walked past, trembling as your shoulders touched, making it all the way to the bottom of the stairs before you had your moment of revelation as well.

Somehow, whether it had been a slow process over his two-year absence or something far more sudden in the past few minutes, he'd wormed his way back between the cracks of your heart, and this time, you worried you wouldn't survive.

The quiet jingle of the bell tickled your ears as you opened the door to the bookshop, dust immediately invading your senses as you fought back a harsh cough.

Your Dad pushed in front of you, forcing the door to stay open by propping a stack of intimidatingly large books in front of it. You laughed silently to yourself, noting how they were all Dickens (he hated Dickens, said his novels were disturbingly boring and unnecessarily detailed). 

“So, you can dust a little, and sweep the floor, before we open. Count the money in the till, as well, that’s very important,” he noted off, and you suddenly wished you had a pen and a pad of paper to write it all down.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been helping out at the shop since when you were younger, but this was the first time you’d been granted the responsibility of having it all to yourself (minus the inconvenience that was Sirius Black). 

You were deemed an adult now – loved to point it out any chance you got, and that meant that your Dad trusted you enough to not hover over your shoulder every time you took a shift. He was working fewer hours, though now, none, as he wanted to finish the novel he’d been writing for the past decade after melodramatically announcing at the dinner table that “It’s time!” 

You weren’t sure what that exactly meant, but you weren’t about to argue with the man paying you an overly generous ten pounds an hour. 

You didn’t need the money for yourself, what with still living at your parent’s house, but you wanted to contribute to the house and expenses and what not, even if it was a minuscule sum. 

“Another thing,” he added, stopping, rather abruptly, in front of you, voice worryingly grave as he placed his large palms over either of your shoulders. “Please,” he begged, brows dipping, “don’t fight with Sirius in front of the customers.”

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already after me,” you objected, pulling back from his usually comforting hold and pulling the broom out from behind the counter. His hands fell defeatedly against his sides as he sighed, standing in your way before you could mope yourself into a tizzy before the work day had even started. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he ensured, pulling you into his tight embrace once more. “You know you’re my number one, sweetheart. Just don’t like seeing you so upset.”

James always teased you for being your Father’s favourite, and you’d never argue, relishing in his pointed fingers and sneering words, because it was true– there was something between you and your Father, an understanding that no one else had clued in on.

He eased your worries like no one else could, smoothed irked creases across your face, replacing them with belly-hurting laughter lines and a grin so wide, you were worried it would fall off your face.

Anyway, James was the same with your Mum. You found her difficult to communicate with, what with her being as hot-heated as you were, so as much as you and your Dad got along, you butted heads with your Mum just as much.

“It’s ‘cause you two are so similar, like twins, I tell you!” But it did little to calm your nerves around her, or stoke the flames of anger you so often felt. 

You were about to respond, ready to tell your Dad just how much you loved him, when someone crashed through the door, slamming into the counter you were standing behind. You turned, eyes connecting with your (late) colleague. He looked utterly windswept, as if he’d run – or been chased – the whole way there. 

“You okay, son?” your Dad asked, worry shifting from you to the panting, bent-over Sirius. 

“Me? Oh– peachy, just– peachy,” he answered between heavy breaths, waving off his doting hands. “Sorry I’m late, got a little carried away with something and lost track of time.”

You were conscious of how your Dad didn’t offer Sirius the same advice, to not pick a fight or argue or whatever it was the two of you did, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he had everyone charmed.

So you busied yourself behind the till, doing as you were instructed and counting the money, writing down the number of each of the bills on a notepad you pulled from the drawer at your waist. 

Your Dad left soon after, turning the closed sign out front to open as he wished you, and Sirius, good luck. 

“Guess it’s just the two of us, little Potter,” Sirius pointed out, already sounding bored as he fell into a stool at your side. He leaned his head against his arm, stretching it from side to side as he groaned at his tense muscles.

You didn’t mean to stare, swore it wasn’t something you’d let become a habit, but your gaze immediately travelled to the exposed skin of his neck, zeroing in on the trail of newly-formed purple bruises  down the side.

You snorted, shaking your head at him, slamming the money compartment shut a little too aggressively so that it caught Sirius’ attention. He recognised your expression to be something close to amusement, jabbing you in your side until you were scowling and slapping his fingers away.

“What’s wrong with you– you’re acting like a fucking child,” you admonished, moving out of reach and resting a hand on your hip. 

“Why’d you make that face?” he asked instead of answering your question, nodding at you like it was you who had started it.

“It’s nothing,” you went with, hearing your Father’s words echoing in your mind from just moments ago. You needed to diffuse the situation before you really got mad, because past that point, you weren’t responsible for what you said– or did. 

So you ventured into the aisles of books, a curious Sirius on your heels, following you like a lost, yapping puppy. “If it’s nothing then why are you running away?” he pushed back.

You ignored him pointedly, stopping to stack a few books and dust along the shelves. No one had come in yet, still too early in the morning for any tourists to stumble upon your admittedly quaint but bursting shop. 

The sunlight barely filtered past the dense collection of books and mahogany shelves that lined the walls, but the windows stretched to the tall ceilings, and if you went up the spiralling staircase at the centre of the store, you’d find yourself in a cosy loft space, bathed in gold and stuffed with arm chairs and sofas for people to sit and read in. 

It was your favourite part of the store, and you were seriously debating hiding up there on your first day, just to get away from the walking-plague that followed you. 

“Come on– tell me,” he whined, standing too close for your liking. You side-stepped away, brushing a cloth against the worn covers of the Mystery section. He followed suit, returning to his previous position, and this time, you had no way out with the wall of books you’d met. 

You turned, facing him and finally acknowledged his presence. “You lied,” you stated matter-of-factly, loving that you actually had the upper-hand with him. As much as you prided yourself with being quick-witted, Sirius always seemed to find a way to stay on-top.

“Gonna have to give me something more than that, darling. Lied about what?” he countered, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You bristled at the endermeant but continued nonetheless.,

“You weren't busy. You were screwing some girl according to the bruises on your neck,” you stared pointedly at the affected area now, though it was covered by his hair in this position. His hand flew to his neck, as if hoping to shield them from your gaze.

“That’s none of your business Potter,” he countered, irritated. 

“It actually is my business when you’re both late to your job and lying to my Father,” you threw back, shoving forward and relishing in his slight stumble back– as if he hadn’t yet noticed the two of you were so so close. 

“You can’t–” his eyes were wide, worried, as he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to meet his gaze, “You can’t tell him. He’ll be so disappointed and I can’t–”

You frowned at the look of genuine distress written so plainly across of his face. If you two were anyone else, you might've let it go.

Might've--

“Well tough shit, Sirius. You’re an adult, now. This is the real world we’re talking about and not whatever fantasy you've been frolicking about these past two years." You were fuming, unnecessarily so, but both of you knew this was fight had been years in the making.

"I understand you lack the ability to form real, genuine connections but come on, Sirius. You're not a fucking teenager. Grow a pair and take some responsibility for once in your life!"

And really, you deserved it, now that you thought back. His anger was reasonable but your need to poke straight through his ribcage, wrap your fist around his heart and squeeze tight, was not. 

“Fuck you, Potter.” he bit out. “Just because you're not getting any doesn't mean the rest of us have to be equally as miserable."

It was already going to shit, Sirius was well aware of it, but he couldn't get himself to stop. To just shut up.

“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking uptight all the time someone might actually give it to you too," his voice now barely above a whisper with his anger deflated as he stared, pained, at your reaction.

And it didn’t take long for you to react -- for your hand to fly up and connect with his cheek, hard. You hadn't done anything two years ago but he thinks he saw you consider it. So the fact that you had finally, struck across the face, spoke to how different things really were. How different you were.

"Potter, I--" and he was speechless when he really shouldn't have been. He swallowed, trying again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered then, fighting the urge to look away from your glassy stare. “I’m sorry, Potter. You know I don’t mean it.”

What you hated most was that you did know. You knew you both brought out the worst in each other. Only, you could never figure out why that was. Why you wanted to hurl insults at him for every comment or look or the stupid way he’d string together the most perfect sentence and his irritating eyes and mouth and–

“Excuse me? Is anyone here?” 

You inhaled, all sudden, as if only just realising what you had done. You brushed past him without a word, needing, more than ever, to put some space between the two of you. If not for your anger then for whatever pesky emotion was seeping through your cracks.

You were (reluctantly) pulled from wherever your thoughts had been racing to as you called into the store, “Just one moment!”

Sirius debated if this was a sign for him to get back onto a train to anywhere you were not. It didn’t matter if he had no money or nowhere to be, but if it meant he could avoid maiming you with his words, he couldn’t quite see a way out of his predicament. 

“Sirius!” you shouted again, no longer faking your emotions but rather genuinely just exasperated by him once more. 

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” He managed to not get lost in the labyrinth of books, and found you by the travel section, chatting good-naturedly with a blonde in a tight dress.

“How can I help, doll?” he asked the blonde in question. His one tactic for almost every conundrum he’d ended up in was avoidance. And bloody hell was he good at it. 

He smiled at her, the customer, doing little to hide his admiration for the legs she had on display. She flushed a pretty pink, averting her gaze, lip between her teeth. Bingo! 

“Christ, you’re disgusting,” you muttered, mouth pouting and quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Only for you, sweetheart, only for you,” he bit back, not wanting the currently oblivious customer clue in on their conversation. “So, how can I help?”

“She needs that book–” you pointed to the top shelf, well out of reach. “--the green spine that says Amsterdam, but I can’t reach it and the step ladder is too heavy.”

“Alas! Only ever needed for my body, it seems,” he moaned with an irritating amount of flourish. 

“Whatever it takes to get the book down– do what you must, Black.” You patted his chest reassuringly, taking your spot, once again, behind the cash register.  

“So– planning a trip are you?” Sirius asked in between excessive displays of strength as he hauled the bulky ladder with a single hand. You glared at the girl as she swooned at him, wanting, rather unreasonably, for her to combust right where she stood.

But that was a ridiculous thought to begin with. You could barely stand to be even within a metre’s distance of the guy, let alone on the receiving end of his affections. You were tired, emotional and dehydrated. Must be. Though a glance at the clock had you realising it had barely been an hour since your day had started. 

So, maybe just emotional and dehydrated. 

“I’m going to get a coffee from across the street,” you announced, slugging your tote bag onto your shoulder as you walked past the preoccupied pair. Not waiting for a response, you stepped out into the early morning sun, frowning, for once, at the glare in your eyes and not the irritant you’d left behind. 

It was easier to refer to him as something pesky, infectious, fungus-like even, rather than the only person who knew how to break your heart (and despite your somewhat impenetrable facade, you let him do just that every time).

please please PLEASE reblog & leave some feedback <3 i'll boop you if you do x

[milogreer]

sneak peeks for shaw pack scaredy cats, a fic about the shaw pack as teenagers where the focus is (supposed to be) milo and tank torturing themselves and each other with horror movies :) takes place around 2009 when they're about 16/in 11th grade

Milo and Tank are hardly three feet out the door when Asher barrels out after them, squeezing his way between two freshmen and nearly taking one of them out with his backpack as he goes. He offers them an embarrassed apology, brightening up when he whirls back around to his pack members.

“I’m glad I caught you guys. Guess what?”

“What?” they ask in unison. Tank sounds far less interested than Milo, not that it’s a high bar - it’s surprising that they even answered Asher at all.

“I talked David into going to see Saw VI with me next weekend.”

“What?” Just Milo this time, incredulous. “That gore-fest? How the hell’d you manage that?”

“Hey, the Saw franchise is more than blood and guts! It’s psychological horror, and the plot is, you know, it’s intricate-”

Tank, who’s turned a little green at this point, says bluntly, “It’s gross.”

And Asher can’t really argue with that. Especially considering the gore is mostly why he watches them, contrasting David’s preference for plot-driven movies.

“So, I can assume you don’t wanna go with us to see it?”

“No way,” Tank says firmly, nose scrunching up in disgust, at the same time Milo scoffs, “In your dreams!”

Asher lets out a rather pitiful whine, his shoulders dropping and head lolling to the side. “Come on, you guys never wanna go to the movies. You’re so boring.”

The door opens to reveal Gabriel, and Tank can feel the phantom way their wolf ears flatten against their head. They blink up at him with wide, surprised eyes before quickly looking away, clearing their throat nervously.

“Afternoon, Mr. Shaw.”

To be the Alpha, Gabe really isn’t an intimidating man. Tall, broad, and grizzled, sure - but he’s also standing before them in a faded old apron and holding a sauce-covered pasta fork. So, not exactly the scariest guy around, but Tank’s only been part of the pack for two years. Despite making friends with a handful of the other kids, some of the adults still watch them warily. It makes Tank nervous. The entire pack shuts their mouths whenever Gabe speaks; with authority like that, one wrong move could send them and their parents back to Washington.

“Hey, kiddo. What brings you by?”

“I, uh-,” They shift their weight from one foot to the other. "I told David I was coming over to get a movie. I figured he told you.” They falter for a second before awkwardly adding, “Sorry,” almost as a question rather than a statement.

Gabe waves his pasta fork dismissively. “No problem. He’s got this project he’s been working on for school, he’s been locked up all afternoon.” He steps backwards into the house, opening up the doorway, and gestures for them to come in. “You know the way.”

Tank hums affirmatively, head down as they skirt past Gabe into the house, only remembering their manners after they’ve made it halfway down the hall.

“Thank you.”

“Good luck,” Gabe calls jokingly after them as he disappears into the kitchen.

“Do you wanna stay for dinner, Tank?”

No fuckin’ way. They open their mouth to decline as politely as possible, but David cuts in before they can.

“Yeah.” He pins them with a look that effectively quiets any argument they would’ve tried to make. They think he’s a lot like Gabriel that way, sharing that authoritative spirit that demands to be listened to. “We’ve still gotta pick a movie, but we can do it after, right?”

Keeping their expression neutral, they say, “Sure, we can do that.” They chance a look at Gabe, that same out-of-character deference shining through. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” He has a warm smile, entirely different from what Tank’s used to at home. It somehow serves to both put them at ease and make them uncomfortable. “The more the merrier. It’ll be another five minutes max.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dad.”

The second the door closes, Tank picks up the nearest object - a baseball - and chucks it at David, who catches it with ease. “You suck.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I can basically hear your stomach growling.” He tosses the baseball back at them. “And this way, you don’t have a choice but to spend time with Gabe the dad instead of Gabe the Alpha.”

“You’re crazy. If anything, Tank likes you the least."

“Aw, c’mon, we’re best buds!” Asher slings an arm around Tank, dragging them in close. “Isn’t that right, T?”

If looks could kill, the side-eye/scowl combination Tank hits Asher with would’ve dropped him like a sack of potatoes. They tamp down the urge to shove him off of them; they’ve been trying to get better about putting hands on people.

“Get. Off.”

Asher complies without complaint, his hands in the air and the most shit-eating grin on his face even as Tank bares their teeth at him.

“See?” He winks at Milo. “Besties.”

“Whatever. All I'm saying is, I don’t care if you’re dying - If I catch you sniffin’ around my house this weekend during this movie you won’t have to worry about Dee’s test because I’ll beat your ass into next week.”

Asher perks up, eyes sparkling. “Ooh-”

“That is not a promise, you freak,” Milo cuts in with a finger pointed threateningly at Asher. “Don’t you got a class to go to?”

[howlingday]

swashbukcler au jaune levels up, he learns a little bit about utilizing his panach and swagger to enhance his abilities. that is to say so long as he acts like he knows what he's doing he's able to win because people psyche themselves out.... one of these days he's gonna get a real win. Anyways yang and ruby are up, can jaune con them into thinking he's a threat? and is jaune's dad impressed that his boy is able to take on huntresses? and why is pyrrha breathing heavily over the scroll when rwby calls back to beacon to explain what's going on?

1 2 2.5 (3) 3.5

---------------------------------------------------

"What would you have done, Dad?"

The elder Arc stroked his beard as he closed his eyes. A smile came to his face, a sign Jaune knew quite well. This was the face he made when he was daydreaming about his younger days of heroism. This would take a while, so Jaune continued helping sort through their library of books. His father's eyes then open and he whirled about on his wheels.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I went outside of the city, Jaune?"

Jaune blinked. No, he hadn't. All the stories Jaune heard were from when he was inside the city. He carried a book to his father, some old text on intercontinental trading. "You went outside Aquadia?"

"Yes, I did, my boy, and it may have helped bring all the tourists in, too!" He smiled wide as he began to rock himself in his chair, a sign that he was excited to begin telling his tale. "Back when I was about your age, I got a seriously bad case of the wander-lust."

"The wander-lust?" Jaune raised a brow, pulling Atlesian Economics from the shelf. "What's that?"

"It's a sickness only cured by roaming. Tell me, boy, have you ever looked to the sky and asked yourself, 'Is there something more to this?'"

"No, not really." He smiled. "All I could ever really want is right here in this city."

"Oh, sure, I thought that, too, kiddo," the father took the book from his son, "but then I looked to the sky and I saw a bird flying out of the city. I got to wondering, well, that very question I asked ya."

"Huh." Jaune thought for a moment. He remembered the Grimm that swam into the port a few days ago. Where did it come from? These thoughts were interrupted by his father cackling.

"That's it, boy! That's the exact same look I had when I asked my question!" He whirled around again, spilling books from his lap. "Oh, I'm remembering everything so vividly, I swear I was right there!"

"What was it like?" Jaune asked, picking up the books, only to sit down as his father began to tell his tale.

"Oh, it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before!" He threw an arm out. "Imagine, a land where the sun and the moon can share the same sky, and their light covers all that you can see. Where there are no casting shades because there's no caldera to cover you. Where animals you could only see in books leap and roam all around you!"

Jaune leaned in on his hands as he tried to imagine himself there. It was a look his father never tired of seeing; innocence, wonder, and a thirst for adventure, all rolled into two ocean-blue eyes full of stars. The story seemed to last only minutes as Jaune hung onto every word his father spoke. He was so distracted, that he didn't notice that an hour had passed, nor had he noticed that he wasn't the only audience member.

"Wow..." Ruby said next to him. Jaune leapt away with a yelp. "Sorry, I wasn't interrupting, was I?"

"Oh no, I was just finishing up the story of when I was coming back from my journey. Home was calling me back, and I found my way into the heart of a young maiden along the way."

"I'm assuming this is your wife?" Blake asked, causing Jaune to leap into Ruby's arms from the other side.

"Do all of you sneak up like this?" Jaune asked.

"I don't know," Ruby groaned before dropping him, "are all of you Aquadians this heavy?"

"Only after a good meal!" Jaune's father bellowed, slapping his belly a few times. "And to answer your question, yes, it was. See, I met her as she was being accosted by bandits. Why, I was in such a fury, I accidentally attacked a huntress I mistook for one of their own! See, the young maiden, my future bride, Jaune's mother, was being escorted by a Huntress/Huntsman team. The team was made up of two Huntsman and two Huntresses." He looked close at Ruby. "And I'd say their leader had the same silver eyes as you, my dear." Ruby gasped. "And when I rushed in to help, I drew my blade, crying-"

"NICHOLAS ARC!" The older man flinched. "I thought you were going to be looking over the city's basic income program, not telling stories to our guests whom I hired to do their job, much like Jaune should be doing his job of helping you with yours." She huffed, walking away.

"I... suppose that's all for now."

"Was she always that bossy?" Ruby asked.

"Believe it or not, yes, she was. Even while being rescued."

---------------------------------------------------

Jaune ran from rooftop to rooftop, the same as he did the night before. While he was out running errands, he listened in on the two huntresses out shopping for supplies... and souvenirs. Playing with her La Lama Lunga action figure, the round one, Ruby mentioned how excited she was to be working with Yang tonight, the older sister of the two sharing her excitement. Judging by how they looked during their fight against the Grimm, he surmised that they'd be different fighters than Weiss was.

Where Weiss was light on her feet, as was common with fencers, Ruby was far lighter and likely more dexterous with her scythe while Yang was all brute force with her gauntlets. He figured out a plan to give him an exit. While one attacked him, he'd bolt for the other one, slip past, and watch the two collide with one another. It was foolproof!

"Gotcha!" He looked behind him to find Yang leaping after him. He couldn't see Ruby, which meant she was probably preparing to ambush him. Making a sharp turn, he leapt across to the other building...

"Gotcha!" Said a voice that wasn't Ruby's. He swung down, covering his face as he smacked into a nice, old lady's potted plants. As he looked up, he saw on the other end of the line was an amber-eye shadow within the shade.

"That's not Ruby." He groaned, rolling from the ground. Looks like he was staying at the street level. "New plan, new plan..."

"Incoming!" He jumped away, barely missing the explosive landing of the blonde bombshell brawler. And yes, it was explosive, like with concussive force and heat and everything. "Sorry to drop in on your escape."

"No, no, it's totally cool." Jaune picked himself up from the ground. "Not like I was blowing anywhere."

"Pfft! Not bad." She was a jokester. Maybe he could use this.

"Yang, focus." Or maybe not. The one that wasn't Ruby perched behind Yang on a balcony. One he recognized.

"What happened to my biggest fan?" Jaune asked. "Did we have a falling out? Tossing me to the curb already?"

"You're a criminal, and we were hired to-"

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU KIDS TO STAY OFF MY BALCONY!" Right on time, an old man burst open the balcony door, swinging his cane left and right. Blake fell backwards, surprised by the sudden, and hostile, arrival of the old man. "DON'T THINK I DIDN'T HEAR YOU BREAKING MY WIFE'S POTS!"

Jaune started to get ideas. Turning on his heel, he ran down the street, following the waterway down the block before jumping over. He could hear Yang shouting as she gave chase down the alleyway. This would be a risky move, but worth it if he succeeded.

He slowed down to a walking pace, making his lungs struggle to breath through only his nose. Yang continued running, getting closer and closer. He could feel her hand reach out, grabbing his cloak.

"GOTCHA!" She tugged, feeling him get closer.

"Did you?" He said in a soft voice, ducking and kicking his legs out, shoving himself into her. His cloak came loose, and he ran away as fast as he could.

"Ah, dang- WAH!" Yang fell into the water as a barking dog scared the daylights out of her. With a splash, she lost sight of the legendary La Lama Lunga. "Damn."

"No luck, either, huh?" A hand reached down to her.

"You could say that." Yang took Blake's hand. She then used her free hand to cover her mouth.

"Don't." Blake warned, a welt growing a third bump on her head. "He's gone again, isn't he?"

"Yeah." Yang shook her head. "This mission really is going to the dogs, huh?" She snickered, pointing to the still barking dog down the road.

Blake pushed her into the water.

---------------------------------------------------

"Really?" Ruby sighed. "Okay."

"I take it that was Yang and Blake." Weiss asked.

"Yup. Looks like Bumblebee was a letdown."

"Well, it was kind of last minute, wasn't it?"

"I thought they would work better than me and Yang." She groaned. "And I have to tell the mayor about this, too..."

"Well, you know who I think would help?"

"You mean...?"

Weiss nodded. "I'm sure the mayor won't be too displeased to have another huntress team coming to help. Especially someone who's been here before."

[brandwhorestarscream]

Reincarnation AU

Poor Mom of Triplets Rodimus so Exhausted. Luckly the Lost Lighters have heard the phrase "It takes a vilage to raise a child." Suprisingly Whirl is up there in compatition for most beloved uncle with Drift. Seriously who knew the Psychocopter was really good with bitties.

It's probably a good thing since Roddy wasn't the only one to fall to the Reincarnation shenanigans. He was merely the first. When Drift, Ratchet and Megatron all fall pregnant the call back to Cybetrton reveals Optimus, Starscream, and Prowl are all greatly gravid.

[Meanwhile somewhere off stage Tarn is feeling Things™️. He kept his array pure for Lord Megatron The Cause. And somehow he is experiencing the mechpreg.]

He's having such a hard time lmao. Even tho the crew adores the bitties and are always happy to help out their captain, they're still very young and can't really be away from their carrier for too long. Offers to babysit last perhaps a megacycle, tops, before the bitties get squirmy and cranky and their tiny sparks begin reaching for their maternal bond, and Rodimus has to hurry back to them

Funny enough, he actually gets the most rest when he's not by himself: though he trusts Drift and Ratchet completely with the triplets, and go an extent Ultra Magnus as well, Roddy struggles to actually relax when he's alone in his habsuite or office and his kiddos are elsewhere. It's like a reflex he can't control: whenever his sparklings are out of sight it's like a switch just flips in his mind. His thoughts swirl around them, always insistently pulled away from whatever he's supposed to be doing. Wondering if they're alright, if they're hungry, or if Pinky is getting anxious without him like he tends to, or if Maroon was still trying to choke himself by sucking on his own fingers. What if they miss him, what if they're too much for their sitters to handle, what if they think he's abandoned them, what if they trip and fall and hurt themselves and he's not there to make sure they're ok?! What if something terrible happens, like what if they fall down the stairs and break their cranial casing? What if there's another psychotic sociopath hiding aboard somewhere that takes his sparklings hostage when he's not there to protect them?! What if they get attacked by space pirates?! What if they DIE?! Of they die it'll he all his fault and he's the worst mom ever and-

On and on it goes. Whenever the exhausted carrier tries to nap by himself, his thoughts just spiral and throw him headfirst into a fit of anxiety. Rodimus has some of the worst imposter syndrome we've ever seen, and i think that would carry over to how he sees himself as a parent: he has no idea what he's doing and he loves these sparklings more than life itself; the only thing he wants, more than anything, is to do right by them. To give them the life they deserve, to be the mother they deserve. He's scared to death about raising them, honestly, so afraid to make a mistake and ruin their lives. He'd never forgive himself if he let them be hurt or, worse, if he hurt them. Having them out of sight exacerbates his anxieties, because he can't possibly know exactly what they're getting up to.

And because of all that, exhausted mama Rodimus gets his best sleep either on his berth with the three ragamuffins puppy piled on top of him, or in common areas when someone else can keep the kiddos occupied and he can keep an eye on them. Knowing they're safe and right in front of him but also knowing that he's not the only pair of adult hands available, the combination let's his body finally relax and he is out. Either helm down on the table or crashing onto the nearest shoulder, Rodimus drops into such a deep recharge so fast the first few times it happened the crew worried he had actually fainted. And when I say out I mean out, face completely limp in exhaustion, mouth open, and snoring. Everyone in the vicinity is happy to let him recharge, Primus knows he needs it. Drift makes sure to get him a blanket, and it's not long before the triplets are lured in by the warm softness and their mother's form, getting all comfy in the little blankie nest at his side 🤭

Sorry, that Rodimus part went on waaay longer than I expected it to, I just love him sm ok 🥺

BUT HOO BOY THE NEXT ONE

Ratchet and Drift and Megatron all at roughly the same time? Damn. I feel like idw Megatron would be quietly horrified because, in his (probably correct honestly I love him but I shouldnt lie) opinion, he is not fit to be a carrier. Ratchet is crabby with Drift when he finds out, grumbling about outdated contraceptives and overly affectionate conjunx, until he's able to actually do a paternity test at Rodimus's prompting. His babies don't have a sire, so maybe...?

Ratchet is surprised and suspicious when the same turns up for him. Once is a random occurrence, twice is a coincidence, thrice makes a pattern. For the three of them to all turn up carrying at roughly the same time was already very unlikely, but for two out of the four pregnancies onboard to be asexually conceived... the chances of that happening randomly is astronomically small. He pulls Drift in for the same test, and wouldn't you know it? No sire. Same story with Megatron. When they get in contact with Cybertron, he finds they're all thankfully on the same page. Starscream had pegged it as incredibly statistically unlikely, though he hadn't had paternity tests performed to determine the lack of a sire. It's almost surreal, once said tests are done, hearing that every single one of them is expecting what is, essentially, a naturally occurring little clone of themselves.

Final closing thoughts because I've rambled enough: I'm still incredibly amused by the idea Tarn in labor, high as a kite from the epidural, tell Nickel, "Nooo don't touch my seal, that's for Lord Megatron" 😂 poor Tarn man, saved himself for all these years, only to get slapped with virgin mary syndrome and BOOM, magic baby. He gets all the pains of childbirth without even experiencing the act of conceiving the baby in the first place. Press F

[lefaystrent]

Me, Myself, and These Guys Who Kinda Look Like Me Ch. 5

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Thomas/The Sides

Summary: It starts with dreams. Then Thomas starts seeing the dream people in the waking world.

Thomas doesn't know how to bring it up to anybody or if he even should at this point.

AKA, Thomas has to acknowledge the six colorful characters in the room, much to their long-awaited delight.

Ao3 Link: click here

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patton, as it turns out, cannot cook. At all.

To be fair, none of them ever had the chance to gain prior experience. The singular two times the others did cook, it had been oatmeal and ramen. Not exactly complex meals.

They appeared to be relatively competent adults though. They had been observing Thomas for years and should be aware of the basics of cooking.

Oh. That's where things went wrong, didn't it? They had been watching Thomas. Not Gordon Ramsey. Thomas Sanders.

Thomas knows how to scramble eggs at least. The thing in Patton's pan right now? Not eggs.

"I just went to the bathroom for like a minute," Thomas says in that way that clearly means, "what the fuck happened?"

"Everything is fine," Patton claims over the smoking pan. "Question though, do you like your eggs extra crispy, or...?"

Thomas would just like to have a skillet after this.

The pan chooses that moment to inexplicably catch on fire. Which shouldn't be possible, but so were plenty of other things that Thomas has experienced in his life lately. Why not this too?

Thomas screams. Patton starts screaming too. Then Patton, in his hurried desperation to right the situation, goes to grab the pan not by the handle like a sane person but where the fire is. With his bare hands. Thomas knows they just had a conversation about how they couldn't truly feel pain, but that doesn't stop the spike of panic as he watches the disaster in slow motion.

Between one blink to another, Virgil appears. He doesn't rise up like Roman demonstrated yesterday. He bamfs in right beside Patton, snapping at him to stand back. Startled, Patton dodges back as Virgil takes control. He pulls the sleeve of his hoodie down over the handle to act as an unconventional potholder, and he rushes the pan to the sink. More smoke billows from the water splashing against the hot pan and the fowl smell of burnt eggs permeates the air.

"What were you trying to do?!" Virgil screeches, and Thomas senses that it's a rhetorical question meant to just make them reevaluate their life choices up to this point, but Patton answers anyway.

"My best!"

Virgil curses and ensures that all of the fire is extinguished before sagging where he stands. He leaves the tap on, either just in case or too tired to shut it off. Patton tiptoes up to him and tugs sheepishly at his shoulder.

"Kiddo? I'm sorry."

"Don't do that," Virgil growls. He holds himself up over the sink, hands braced on either side. "Way to scare the living daylights outta me."

"It's probably more my fault," Thomas cringes. "I left him without supervision."

"Aw, Thomas! Now just because you needed a potty break does not mean it's your fault! We're all adults here."

"Adults don't say 'potty' to each other," Virgil groans. He reaches over the sink and cracks open the window to let out the influx of smoke. "And do you realize how close you were to burning Thomas's apartment down?"

"Well, it was just the eggs–" Thomas tries to alleviate the tension, but Virgil whirls on him.

"It doesn't matter! What would you guys have done if I hadn't showed up when I did? Would you have just stood there screaming? Would you have grabbed the pan and knocked it over and then the fire caught onto something? You have to be more careful!"

Thomas and Patton shuffle guiltily. They could have handled the situation better, in hindsight. No excuses really. Thomas can envision that happening, the two of them freaking out so hard that they create an even bigger danger mess. What would Thomas have done if flames really did spread? Hurt himself trying to put it out like Patton had almost done? Run screaming and forget to call emergency services? They were lucky that Virgil stepped in, and it sounded like they had really scared him.

"Thank you, Virgil," Thomas says. "For coming when you did."

"Yeah, Virge, that was good timing."

"Did you know?" Thomas asks. Could they sense things from in their rooms? Like, could Virgil see what they were up to and came running?

Virgil scowls and crosses his arms around himself. "No? I guess my spidey sense told me that you guys were doing something stupid. Thought I'd check in. You're just lucky I was here."

"Yeah, you're right. Thank you," Thomas expresses again, and he puts effort into showing his gratitude with his eyes.

Thomas isn't sure, but Virgil's eyes might have gone a little glassy at that. Before he can confirm, Virgil spins around and shuts off the sink. "No need to thank me. Your pan's probably ruined anyway. And if you're hungry, I'll make you some more oatmeal. No one touch anything. Please."

Thomas politely requests toast to go with it because he craves carbs, and Virgil gives a long-suffering sigh and shoos them out of the kitchen.

"Do you think he's mad at us?" Thomas asks Patton when they're in the living room. He keeps his voice hushed. "What am I saying, of course he's mad."

"I think he's just worried. That's his way of showing he cares."

"I can't believe you guys tried to set the house on fire without me."

They both squawk and Patton falls over onto the couch at Remus's sudden appearance behind them. A smile curls up Remus's lips, his mustache twitching left and right, and his eyes narrow in glee. Virgil looks up sharply at the disturbance, notes Remus has joined them, and dismisses it with an eye roll. He continues bustling around the kitchen.

"We wouldn't do that to Thomas's home! ...on purpose."

"Lame. Next time, instead of cooking oil you should try kerosene."

Thomas, a man who loves to eat raw cookie dough, knows his limits. "That is not edible."

"No it's edible, just not advisable."

And there's Logan rising up. Thomas embraces the fact that his house will never be empty anymore. He crawls onto the couch beside Patton. If that puts Patton between him and the others, well that's just a bonus. He gives in to the urge to hide and rests his head on Patton's shoulder, more or less curling up into a ball against his side.

Remus bounces his hip against Logan to make him stagger. "Some people used to think lobotomy was advisable. Depends on who's doing the advising, don'tchya think?"

"Let me rephrase then, kerosene contains hydrocarbons which, were it to be consumed, could result in impaired breathing and eyesight, as well as internal burns, rapidly declining blood pressure, convulsions, coma-"

"Were you saying something, Nerdy Wolverine? All I'm hearing is blah blah blah."

It's entertaining to see how similar Remus interacts with Logan as Logan does with Roman. It's the flair for the dramatic and sass clashing with Logan's tendency towards the literal and common sense.

"Do you think they'd notice if we left?" Thomas whispers to Patton jokingly. When the other doesn't respond, Thomas looks at him.

Patton sits incredibly taut. His fingers bunch up in the material of his khaki pants. His eyes are glazed and out of focus, staring ahead and seeing nothing. Thomas doesn't think that he's breathing. Do they need to breathe?

Oh. Thomas should have asked first before invading his personal space.

"Sorry," Thomas says softly and scoots away, putting distance between them.

"Hm?" Patton hums absently. He blinks like he's coming back online and his head lolls around to Thomas. "What did you say?"

Thomas shakes his head quickly and hurries to busy himself with his phone. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

Patton doesn't quite frown, but he's pensive and pondering. Thankfully, he doesn't push and lets the awkwardness go.

Thomas berates himself internally. Why did he do that without asking first? Or just sit on the other end of the couch? He had been caught up in the emotions that they had shared earlier. This thing between all of them, this developing two-way friendship, is only just budding. He has to give it time for everyone's sake and not get ahead of himself.

If he's honest, his own needs are to blame. He could really use a hug. He's been cooped up in his apartment for days and he misses interacting with people. Like...normal people? Gosh, is that a rude thing to think about? He likes these people, he does... He just wants an unconditional display of affection with no weird strings attached.

Is it a good or bad thing that he doesn't have a boyfriend right now? He can't fathom how that would go. Who would want to stay with a person who is constantly haunted by dream people? Wait, wait, that raises the excellent question of what will Thomas eventually do when he does meet someone and gets back into dating? Is this– is this for the rest of his life?

Thomas can't pretend his attention is focused on his phone. It's not and the screen is black from disuse.

He didn't mean to face his impending fears this early in the morning.

Compartmentalize. He needs to do what Logan taught him yesterday. He needs to put these worries in a box, lock it up tight, and push it into the background. He's still recovering, and he hasn't learned everything about them yet. Let him deal with this when he has the energy and all of the facts.

Down the couch, he doesn't notice that Patton watches him with a pained expression.

***

After breakfast, Thomas evades the others by engaging his worst enemy.

Chores.

His hamper overflows from fire fits of days past. He tosses them in the washer, guesstimates how much detergent to pour in, and then starts the wash. He sets a timer on his phone on the off chance he remembers to obey the alarm and switch the load.

He stares at his bed in its sweat-stained sheety glory. It would take him all day along with his clothes.

No, Thomas, you will not be a gremlin. You're feeling better now, toughen up.

The gremlin part of his brain claws for a compromise. He has spare sheets. He can replace them now and wash the dirty ones tomorrow.

Changing them is easier said than done. The dirty ones come off swift, but the clean ones? Why does it take all the muscles in your body just to get a fitted sheet on a mattress? And by the time you've got wrangled the rest of the blankets and pillow cases? Phew, what a work out.

Thomas lays exhausted on the freshly made bed. He used to work out sort of, you know, before he got sick. Now he's a shadow of his former self. He shouldn't be this out of breath and wanting a nap. How weak, pathetic. A tiny whiny man.

...right, he's still sick.

He heaves himself up and tosses back some more ibuprofen. The fever hasn't returned exactly, or if it has it's relatively low. His joints protest like the old man he is, and there are other mild aches. If he pushes himself too fast, too soon, he'll just end up miserable. And he'll do anything to avoid that wretched migraine from coming back.

He lays back on the bed again, sideways across it with his legs hanging off. He basks in the comfiness. The others didn't follow him up or ask questions, for which he is glad. He doesn't want them looking at him like lost puppies whenever he leaves the room.

He stares at the popcorn ceiling and makes out shapes as if they are clouds.

He's going to have to change a lot of his routine, once he gets in the swing of it again. Maybe establish some boundaries? Even if they promise to respect his privacy, he isn't sure he'll ever be able to sleep naked again. Which sucks because that's his preferred method of pajamas. Clothes are terribly confining.

And what will he tell his family? His friends? He doesn't know if he can keep this a secret. He's incredibly inept at lying to those who know him. He gets too skittish, too overcompensating. It's laughable. They've already been worried enough about him these past couple of weeks, and that's just when he thought he was going insane. They'd see through any farce.

He can just never leave his apartment ever again. Is that an option? No one will ever suspect.

Actually, would anyone be able to see them anyway? If he walked outside his house, could his neighbors see them strolling along in the parking lot? And if they were now visible to everyone, would this bring like, government attention to him? What if authorities start questioning why these six guys who live with him don't have birth certificates or social security numbers?

Thomas daydreams city officials stopping by his house wielding warrants. "Sir, you're under arrest for harboring illegal dream people." And then he'd have a criminal record, and all his loved ones discover his dirty secret anyway. Awesome. Fantastic.

"Do you ever feel....like a plastic bag," Thomas sings quietly to himself. He sighs and rolls over onto his side.

Roman is reclined on the bed beside him. It's interesting, because it doesn't scare him right out of his pants (ha, Nightmare Before Christmas referrence). He's getting too used to them randomly popping up now. Man, he's really gotta have the boundaries talk sooner than later, doesn't he?

But it's not so bad. Roman lays there flat on his back, gazing up at the ceiling as Thomas had been. He wonders if Roman is mapping out pictures too, creating life where there once was none.

"I always loved to hear you sing," Roman confides. His arm floats in the air, hand dancing to an unknown tempo. "And perform. I used to memorize the lines right alongside you. I sang like I was a part of the show and not just an onlooker. I would pretend..."

His face is open and lost in memories. Thomas forgets his worries for the moment. The poignant tone of Roman's words, the underlying passion, it's entrancing in its tragedy.

Like Thomas's problems can ever compare to theirs.

"What would you pretend?" Thomas asks, hushed and gentle and not wanting to break the atmosphere.

The barest bit of pink tints Roman's cheeks. His lips quirk up as he glances at him from the corner of his eye. "I used to pretend I was you. Someone I respected and admired more than anything."

Thomas resists the urge to cover his face in a fit of bashfulness. It's not like he often has pretty guys in his bed waxing poetically about him. And here he has a literal Prince Charming who has been his unknowing personal backup singer for years.

Roman's smile morphs into a wince. He flops his arm down onto the bed. "My apologies, Thomas. I can't imagine how daunting this situation is for you. If you should need anything, even if it's for us to give you space, you have but to ask. I don't wish for us to burden you."

"You're not a burden," Thomas replies automatically, stubbornly.

Aren't they though? the ugly voice in the back of his mind says. He viciously beats it down and shoves it in his mental basement. He won't be that kind of person.

Roman turns his head to look at him, eyebrow raised. "Just earlier we set a fire. This is only the second day since achieving corporealness."

"In all fairness, it wasn't that bad. And Virgil was there to put it out. So it balanced out."

"Yeah, Virgil's good like that," Roman muses. He's scanning Thomas's face, searching for something. It reminds him of the subdued way he looked at the others last night, after he offered to carry Thomas to bed. The bit of cautious wonder. Of tender hope.

Thomas thrums a cadence with his fingers into the bed sheets. "I talked to Patton this morning..."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Thomas nods. Well, as much as a person can nod while laying on their side. "Yeah. We kinda...talked about the situation, more or less. I told him I want to help you guys."

Roman is nothing short of stunned. Flabbergasted. Gut-punched.

They can't think that poorly of him, can they? To think it's that out of character for him? Roman just said he admires him. Thomas clings onto that.

"You do?" Roman squeaks out, and Thomas hates how bemused he sounds.

"Yeah, what I can I mean," he pours sincerity into his words. "I don't know how much a guy like me can do, but I'd like to try. I'm not going to kid myself and say this will be a walk in the park, but I'm sure we can all figure out something together. And... uh, if you want. I don't know if you'd be interested, but I'd love to sing with you sometime. If you want, I mean. Your voice, I mean, it's good. Really good. But only if you want, of course."

As he fumbles his speech, Thomas reminds himself repeatedly that Roman just expressed an interest in doing as much, and no this is not being too presumptuous.

Roman springs up, bolt upright. There's a feral, hungry glee that shakes him and he nearly squeals out, "Really?! Really really?!"

"Really really," Thomas promises, smiling up at him. The excitement is infectious and Roman launches into a whole tirade of song choices.

"We could do Hamilton! Or Disney! I'll make a man out of you! It's the boppiest bop to ever bop! Or no wait, a ballad! We could do a ballad! A piano cover of something. Better yet, we can write our own song! Thomas! Thomas, I have so many ideas, you have no idea!"

Thomas has awoken his inner child. It's Christmas and Fourth of July clashing in showers of sparks. There are stars in Roman's eyes, and he holds his fists up, knuckles covering a wild grin. He's bouncing in place on the bed and it's the cutest thing Thomas has ever seen.

"I'd like to hear them," Thomas says.

Roman needs no more prompting. He stretches out on the bed again, laying on his stomach. He kicks his feet up behind him whimsically while he gushes and makes callbacks to Thomas's past videos and expands off of those. He's talking a mile-a-minute and Thomas hardly needs to contribute. Nor does he want to. He wouldn't dream of interrupting.

This bit of his morning is not a chore. It's a privilege.

***

Lunch time rolls around. They only become aware of this in the midst of their brainstorming session because Remus throws open the door.

The closet door.

"Did someone order a pizza?!" he screeches loud enough to make ears bleed.

Roman's reaction is to grab the nearest object (a pillow) and catapult it at the intruder. Remus karate chops is out of the air.

"Have you ever heard of knocking!" Roman bellows. "Me and Thomas are having an important discussion that doesn't involve you!"

"You've been hogging him since yesterday! It's my turn to ride on Thomas the Dank Engine!"

"I haven't been hogging him!"

"Little piggy say what?"

"I haven't been hogging him! Just because you're jealous–"

"Oink oink oink! Here a pig, there a pig, everywhere a pig pig!"

"Why are you so insufferably juvenile?!"

"Uh, bitch, why do you have a stick up your ass? And not the good kind!"

"Fellas," Thomas says most agreeably, sitting up and clasping his hands in his lap. "I think we need to take a deep breath."

They both cut themselves off mid-insults. They glance at him, and yes it's clear that even though Thomas was the subject they were fighting over, they had forgotten he was there or that he can now witness their spats.

And gosh, isn't that bizarre? They're fighting over him.

Roman crosses his arms and sulks, appearing contrite. Remus puts his hands behind his back and whistles in a poor imitation of innocence.

These two might be worse together than Logan with either of them. That's just impressive.

Thomas clears his throat and embodies his best mediator persona. "Now Remus, was there a reason you came in here? You said something about pizza?"

Roman mutters, "He was making a stupid porn joke."

"You're stupid," Remus snipes back. Before Roman can sputter out a defense, Remus bounds over and snatches up Thomas's hands in his. "There's food downstairs ready for you. The nerd said it's important for you to eat to keep your energy up or whatever. I suggested you should just eat batteries, but nobody ever listens to me."

"I wonder why," Roman growls, but Thomas is already being dragged out of his room. Remus keeps an iron grip on his fingers and pulls him along.

There's an erratic edge to Remus's words while he babbles to Thomas. It's mostly nonsensical ideas, like a stream of consciousness gone straight to brain rot. It's peculiar as it is demanding of attention. A train crash he can't look away from.

As they descend the stairs, Thomas stares at their joined hands. He considers Remus's words from before. How much do the others really listen to him? Or to each other in general? What hidden dynamics are at play here?

The others are all waiting for them below minus Bowler Hat. The table is set for one, and it's actually not pizza. It's pan-seared porkchops with broccoli and mashed potatoes. His nostrils flair as the smell wafts over him. His stomach rumbles appreciatively.

"You guys didn't have to do all this," Thomas protests. He lets Remus steer him to the chair and plop him down. He keeps his hands on his shoulders. "I know I've been sick, but I can make my own food now."

Virgil gestures to the murdered pan in the sink. "Let's just say for all our sakes, we don't mind."

"Yes, it's no issue," Logan chips in. "We are more than capable of providing you with assistance. It is no trouble, I assure you."

"I set the table," Patton says with a tiny smile. "No more stove privileges for silly ole me!"

Roman indulges him with a clap on the back. "You did well, Padre. And everyone else! This is a meal fit for a king!"

Virgil scoffs, "It's just meat and veggies. It's not a big deal."

"I forgot I had porkchops," Thomas admits. "When did you guys even take them out to thaw? I didn't notice."

Logan refastens his tie, a little smug, "Last night. I theorized that by today your illness would abate enough to allow you to eat a proper meal."

"Well, I don't know what else to say but thank you." Would this become a thing? Should he let it be a thing? Would it be such a bad thing if he did? They could cook him food if it made them feel useful, and then he could avoid cooking and get to eat it all. Just himself, never sharing.

No, that just– that would be like having servants and would be a weird power hierarchy, and he's just not going to go that route. He's a big boy, he can cook his own dinners.

He picks up his fork to tuck into dinner.

"Are you going to hover over him for the entirety of the meal, Donny Whacko?"

Remus's hands are still clamped on Thomas's shoulders, and he remains standing right behind him. Thomas pauses with his fork in the air. He didn't realize when Remus had grown eerily quiet, but the chattering had indeed stopped, and he grips tighter at Thomas's shoulders.

"Remus?" Patton says, as gentle as a person encroaching on a wild animal that they just want to help. "You gotta let go, buddy."

At once the hands are gone from his shoulders. Then they return on the sides of Thomas's head, spindly fingers holding him in place while Remus delivers a loud smooch to the top of his scalp. Every hair on Thomas's body stands on end.

"Remus!!" literally everyone screams.

"What, like you all haven't been thinking about it too," Remus replies in his reedy voice. "I can't help that you're all horribly repressed."

Furious and flustered, Roman rolls up his sleeves as if he's going to remove Remus by force, but then he suddenly back pedals. His eyes shift from Remus to...something else.

"I do so enjoy you making my job harder," a voice that is certainly not Remus's comes from behind Thomas.

Thomas turns. His peripheral catches a minor struggle of limbs, a flash of yellow, and then nothing. No one stands behind him.

"Why does he have to be so dramatic?" Virgil groans rhetorically.

Logan answers him literally, "He does not have to, it is simply a life choice."

Thomas looks back at them. "Did Remus just get kidnapped?"

Patton attempts to smile through a grimace, "I think it's more like he was given a time-out."

"Was that Bowler Hat?"

"Yeah, he does that sometimes with Remus. Nothing to worry about, kiddo."

Thomas very much worries about it. They can't tell him not to worry about it after that. After Remus kissed him and got sent to baby jail for it. Thomas can't react to the implications of the sign of affection, that in particular is a bit too much right now, but he does race car drift into indignation. Regardless of Remus being overtly clingy, Thomas doesn't think he deserved to be dragged away like that.

HIs reaction is because Remus had just voiced how no one listens to what he says. And the way that his hands didn't want to let go of Thomas. A burgeoning sense of protection has him sitting down his fork.

"I... I think I would have rather talked about it," Thomas tells them. He surprises them, he knows he does. And maybe that's his fault with how readily he's shown to want to avoid the issue so far.

Logan is the first to act. He smooths down the front of his shirt and sits in front of him at the table. "If you would like to discuss, we can."

"No," Thomas shakes his head, tone firm. "I want to talk to you guys. All of you. An important part of handling things is communication, right? And the longer I wait to do this, the more we might misunderstand each other, and I don't want that to happen. I want us all to be comfortable. Not just me, but all of you guys too."

Patton takes a step forward, falters, then presses his index fingers together. "When you say all of us..."

Thomas's eyes narrow. "I mean all six of you. Would that be a problem?"

Patton throws up his hands and waves them around in distress. "No, no! Not at all! That's not what I meant." He too takes a seat. He leans over the table, trying to convey in his expression sincerity. "I'm sorry, it's just that, well we'd like to talk to you. We just don't want to overwhelm you all at once."

"And Bowler Hat, as you call him, may decline to come to the discussion table," Virgil points out.

"Why would he?" Thomas asks. "I just talked to him last night."

"You did?" Virgil spits out, eyes critically assessing. When he sees that Thomas does nothing more than raise a brow, he rolls his shoulders and puts on an unaffected air. "Okay, cool. That's cool. So you weren't...scared?"

"No? Why would I be?" Thomas asks.

No one answers.

Thomas looks from face to face. They're hiding secrets. Every one of them.

"Why would I be?" he says again, more soft in trepidation.

Logan's brows are furrowed. He taps a finger against his chin. "Thomas... did you notice anything...odd regarding his appearance?"

"You mean other than the caplet and gloves?"

"Yes, actually. What else?"

Thomas searches for an answer amongst then. Roman stares holes into Patton who squirms in his seat.

"What am I not getting?" Thomas questions Patton.

And there's the same guilty look in his eyes like this morning at the failed breakfast. "Thomas, how much did you see of him? Was it dark? Did you see him fully I mean? Or remember when you first saw us?"

Not that he noticed. Nothing that–

Hadn't Bowler Hat purposefully avoided him? He had been turned away, looking out the window. And he scurried away to the kitchen with Virgil first thing. And he didn't show back up until it was dark in his room.

"Is he...is he different?" Thomas asks them, borderline scared now. "Is he not the same thing you guys are?"

"Yes and no," Logan answers, too collected, too calculating his words. "He is similar to us in most areas in terms of our attachment to you and the state of our metaphysical beings. The largest difference is in appearance."

"He didn't want," Virgil begins, but trails off when everyone turns to him. He scowls and looks angrily at the floor. "It's not for us to tell. He was just afraid of how you'd react. He can't help the way he looks. He just is."

"The snake's already out of the bag," Roman says, remorseful. "Thomas, it's not that we didn't want to tell you. We just wanted to respect his wishes while giving you time to adjust. But I can see that it's causing you more stress than not. I'm not sure we can manage to convince him to come out, but we can tell you about it. The truth would've had to come out eventually."

He doesn't want them to feel forced to tell him anything.

He also doesn't like them keeping secrets that might affect him and each other.

It's a tousle between being a people pleaser and wanting some modicum of control back over his life.

"I want you guys...to feel like you can talk to me."

"That's all we've ever wanted," Patton whispers.

Thomas closes his eyes. He pushes his plate aside. "Then I think we need to talk."

[ternfic]

Penance

Chapter Ten: Thriller

Sirius nearly bumped into Good Cop’s back when he abruptly stopped. “What’s the big idea?” he complained.

“I’ve been seeing shadow figures for a while now,” Good Cop said, “but… I keep seeing one in particular that seems to be waiting for us? It’s like it’s waiting for me to look right at it before darting off, unlike the others.” Sirius stepped around him, looking around.

“I don’t see anything.”

“I’ll point it out if I see it again. Come on.” They continued down the hall side by side, keeping their eyes open for their mystery guide. “Oh! There!” Good Cop pointed, and Sirius whipped his head around to look where his friend was pointing. He gasped when he caught a glimpse of a white skirt.

“Tiffany!” He ran after her, but she had disappeared again. Good Cop jogged up behind him, frowning thoughtfully. Sirius turned to him. “What’s that look for?”

“I’m just confused. She tried to warn you about the Ringmaster’s plans, and now she’s leading us somewhere. If she’s helping us… why? What happened to make her change her mind?”

Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know, really. I bumped into her- literally, I wasn’t paying any attention- and we talked. Well, I talked. She was pretty cold at first, like she was waiting for me to give her reason to tear my head off or something, but the more I talked, the more she relaxed.” He paused as he remembered something. “She did say I wasn’t what she was expecting.”

“I think it is very often forgotten that people can change.” Good Cop gave him an encouraging smile. “You’re certainly a far cry from Lord Business, now.”

“Please don’t ever say those two words together ever again.” Good Cop chuckled at him.

There was a godawful screech, freezing them in their tracks. Sure enough, Keelan had found them again, and this time, he’d caught Tiffany. “Finally found you, little traitor,” he hissed, not quite sounding like himself.

Tiffany thrashed in his hold, his hand wrapped around her throat and giving off an eerie green glow. Her form had turned more white, but less clear cut. “We can’t do this to them…!” she protested, voice faint. “They’ve already paid their dues-” Her words were choked off, her form becoming more vaporous the longer he held her, until finally she dissipated.

“Oh my gosh-” Sirius gasped, and Keelan turned his attention to them. At his side, Good Cop grimly prepared for a fight. The President let out a yelp and threw himself against the wall as Keelan leapt at him again, Good Cop intercepting his brother before he could do any damage. He’d clearly become unused to fighting over the years, barely able to keep Keelan in check.

Sirius swallowed hard, hating feeling so useless, when he spied the one thing that did not seem to get duplicated with the brothers- Bad Cop’s laser pistol. An idea came to him then. He shrugged off the comforter, throwing it at Keelan’s head the moment the opportunity presented itself. “What the-?!” Good Cop yelped, leaning back to avoid getting blinded by it as well, and Sirius dove in, snatching the gun from its holster. He wasted no time whirling back around and shooting the possessed triplet with it. Keelan dropped like a sack of rocks, shrieking in fury. Good Cop looked down at his brother, then at his boss with wide eyes. “That was very brave.”

“It was the only thing I could think to do…” He bit his lip. “Sorry, kiddo,” he murmured, shooting Keelan with it again, knocking him out.

“I just hope he wasn’t the only thing keeping the other ghosts from interfering.” Good Cop knelt down. “I’m so sorry, Kee’,” he murmured, gently brushing his brother’s hair away from his face. “We’ll find a way to help, I promise…”

Buoyed by hope once again, Bad Cop found himself better able to block out the insidious whispers. What was getting to him now was boredom, and a need to move. He really needed to stretch his legs, and was starting to feel it. If only the bindings weren’t magic-

Oh, he thought suddenly. Right. He’d been working on his Master Building abilities since returning home. Maybe he couldn’t break the bindings, but he could break the post he was bound to. If he could twist his arms just enough…

There was someone else in the room. He could feel their gaze crawling over his skin. “Enjoying the accommodations?” a familiar voice crooned. “I worked so hard on them, just for you.”

“Oh God no, not you.”

“So glad you remember me, it’s been ten years, after all!”

“Where are my brothers,” Bad Cop growled in response. “I swear to God, if you’ve hurt them-”

“Oh don’t worry, they’re both quite safe. I left Good Cop all nice and cozy in your room, he won’t be going anywhere any time soon. And your freak of a brother is… out playing, with Business.” Bad Cop snarled at Keelan being called a freak. “Really, you’re the one you should be worried about.” The room lightened then, and Bad Cop winced at the brightness. It hadn’t been dark after all, he realized, but his vision had been tampered with- a spell of some sort, most likely.

The Ringmaster crouched down in front of him, eyes the same blazing, inhuman green that Bad Cop remembered, and pulled his aviators off. “I haven’t forgotten how you looked me in the eyes when you pulled the trigger, not once, but twice. Those blue eyes practically glowing with fury… That burning defiance…”

“What do you want with us…”

“I want to make you pay, of course. I wasn’t ready to die yet, you see.”

“But you sure were ready to kill hundreds of innocent people,” Bad Cop spat back. “Ever consider they weren’t ready to die yet?”

The Ringmaster waved him off. “Inconsequential. They weren’t Master Builders.”

“You’re a monster.”

The ghost grinned widely at that. “Takes one to know one.”

“Why don’t you just finish me off then, if you want your vengeance so badly? I’m right here, I’m helpless, what’s stopping you?” Keep him talking…

“I want to make you suffer first, of course. I’m going to turn that scribbled disaster into a killer, just like his brothers. I’ll watch him play cat and mouse with your master until Business wears out, and watch him tear that waste of flesh to shreds. And then I’m going to give them both such slow, agonizing deaths… It will be exquisite, listening to you plead for their lives. You’d do anything for your brothers, wouldn’t you?” He grinned at the despair he could see in Bad Cop’s eyes. “Goodness, no wonder you wear these all the time. You really can’t hide anything, can you?”

The Ringmaster stiffened then, attention drawn elsewhere. “What- that’s impossible. How did he get free?!”

Got it! The Ringmaster’s attention snapped back to him at the loud crack of the pole breaking. “You really ought to stop acting like you know us.” The ghost stared as, in a single fluid motion, he managed to swing his arms back in front of himself and stood.

“That’s not possible-”

Bad Cop summoned the one spell he’d managed to learn from Alastar and released it in the spirit’s face, startling him enough to make an escape. The halls darkened as he sprinted down them, wallpaper peeling and carpet decaying in his wake. He smirked to himself. Someone’s pissed.

He just hoped he hadn’t made things worse for the others.

[sphnyspinspin]

Surprise Visit

A Rescue Bots Academy Short-Story

Summary: Someone special visits Whirl Jr. on her graduation day at the academy.

[time frame is set two years after “Crash of The Titan”][SPOILERS AHEAD!…kinda]

I also wrote an itty bitty poem to set the tone too.

And fanart.

What a Surprise

By: Sphnyspinspin

Oh wow… what a strange place,

Where you’ve decided to stay,

So different from our old home,

How did you ever find your way,

With all these different rocks and trees,

I never knew how green it was going to be,

Somehow you’d be fascinated by the stories they tell,

Like the stories of this place you told me,

Weird animals that are scary and vicious,

You love them with all your spark,

And they’re the coolest things you’ve ever seen,

Like when you told me how you saw a shark,

None of them can protect themselves,

The residents here are flimsy and small,

That’s why you decided to stay here,

To be an amazing rescuer to them all,

Too bad they all can’t meet you,

The last thing I wanted was for you to be lonely,

Of course you had no trouble at all,

You told me about your classmates and how they’re friendly,

Your teachers have given you such high remarks,

How you’re smart and talented, you’re really thriving,

I am seriously dumbfounded and amazed,

You’ve done so well just by arriving,

You’re practically the light of my life,

I can’t say being so far away wasn’t painful,

It was sad to see you go through that bridge,

But I was happy you were hopping and hopeful,

The moment you got to the portal, you were still standing,

You started turning towards me, tilting down your head,

Was something wrong? Were you okay?

You ran into my servos, almost knocking me off my pedes,

What you said shook my world, as I held you in my embrace,

“Thanks, dad…for everything you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t be able to become the bot I am today without you.”

Heh…you’re one to talk, as you let me go and took off,

What I wanted to say had to wait, I had to board the ship that was leaving at two,

I had a mission on the other side of the galaxy,

It was supposed to be short, but everything kept delaying,

There were so many hiccups, like you wouldn’t believe,

The thought of seeing you again was the only thing that kept me going,

It’s okay, I got your transmissions,

I could tell you were worried but I was always alright,

What I wanted to tell you had to be face to face,

The moment had to be just right…

Today is the day, with no more delays,

I was going to surprise you at your graduation,

I was excited to see my little bitlet again,

I was glowing with anticipation,

You’ve probably grown a bit with your new alt mode,

Heck, you’re probably able to fly above the clouds,

I just know for a fact you’ve grown into a great bot,

I just know for a fact you’ll make me so proud

…

I see you now,

With your friends by your side,

Your teachers praising you,

If I had tear ducts I would’ve cried,

With a stroll half way across the parking lot,

I stood beside the academy,

Your friends noticed me first, I saw them point and ask,

“Who’s he?”

The moment you were standing in front of your friends, still standing,

You started turning towards me, tilting up your head,

Did you not recognize me right away? Or were you just surprised?

You starting running towards me, I held out my servos, I readied my pedes,

“Dad!” I heard you holler,

You had grown so much I wasn’t ready,

You jumped into my servos and we collapsed on the ground,

We started giggling, I tried getting up, but I was unsteady,

You introduced me to your friends,

I see why you liked them, they’re an interesting bunch,

You made friends with a raptor, a crash-test dummy, Ratchet’s nephew, and-uh…Titan?

Can’t say I was jealous…much,

It was time to go,

We said our goodbyes,

You wanted to fly across the ocean before we left,

We took our time to take to the skies,

We transformed and headed off,

I still had something to say,

It was time,

Not any other time, not any other day,

“Hey there kiddo…I have to tell you something. Like something, really important.”

“Yeah dad?”

“Do you have any idea how proud you’ve made me?”

“Aw…Thanks dad.”

“No-seriously-do have any idea how proud I am of you?”

“Um…super…proud?”

“Not-even-close.”

“What-“

“Whirliebird. I am going to say this a clear as possible. You’re literally the most important bot in my life-ever. The wreckers are a close second.”

“I-I don’t know what to say-“

“You’re crazy smart, you became a triple changer, you obviously made friends with some of the coolest bots ever, you even helped your friends recover a Titan. A TITAN WHIRLIE!”

“I appreciate that dad, I really do, but…where are you going with this?”

“What I’m saying is, during my time, or even before the war, not that many full-grown bots could’ve done half the stuff you’ve done in a lifetime. Your going places Whirliebird. And I genuinely believe your going to be an amazing bot someday. I am so proud of you, and not just because your my daughter, but because your one of the very few bots thats actually going to make the world a better place.”

“Oh dad…Thank you. I think I-I think I really needed to hear that, and I thought you just showing up made my day. I’m super happy with what I’ve done here too. But could you be a little bit more specific on which world I’m going to make a better place? Cybertron or Earth?”

“Both.”

THE END

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Protector

Chapter One

Author’s Note: And welcome back to your regularly scheduled regularly scheduled program!

Alright, summary that's as non graphic as I can make it!  In the last chapter, Virgil goes to rescue Janus, then buys Janus time to fix the barrier by shifting to take his place.  Janus realizes he's messed up just a tiny bit, and he and the rest of the sides and Thomas all go down to rescue Virgil, who's being tortured by the other sides there, using an idea Remus gave them back when he was down there alone and trying anything to stop being bored.  Remus rescues him by killing Malice, but Virgil still asks Remus to kill him rather than recover from the injuries he has, so Remus does.  It ends there, and Virgil's now out of commission for a little bit.

Also, hopefully last heads up, but there's not going to be a chapter next week because I'll be out of internet range.  This should be the last time, and there should (knock on wood) be a chapter every week until the story is done after that.

Chapter Thirty-Three:

Janus had locked Cruelty and Positivity up in their rooms for the indefinite future.  He said he’d locked Malice’s door prematurely, so he’d be locked up when he reappeared.  Remus wasn’t sure why the hell he told him.  It’s not like that was enough to make up for everything.

Virgil’s door would likely be gone for another week, meaning Remus was alone, again, and he hated it.  Everyone was giving him a wide berth, which he wanted, obviously, but it meant he had nothing and no one.  The creatures he made in The Imagination got boring after a while, especially since all his ideas were apparently so useless.

Well.  Not that Malice would think so.

Remus tried to distract himself from the crushing guilt and loneliness by giving Thomas tons of horrible ideas about what could happen, doing his part while Virgil wasn’t here.

Tommy-boy was a bit of a mess, as he always was when Virgil was gone.  They were all kind of spending most of their time watching him.  Remus did his part entirely from his room so he wouldn’t have to see any of their stupid faces, and lived his life under dark of night like the horrifying monster that he was.  He didn’t really expect that to work forever, but he also didn’t expect anyone who found him due to getting a glass of water or midnight snack to stick around for very long.

He certainly didn’t expect Patton to be the side that stuck around.

“Hi kiddo,” came a soft voice, and Remus glared over his shoulder on instinct to find Patton standing at the bottom of the steps in kitten-covered pajamas.

“I thought I might find you up at this time,” Patton said.  “Since no one saw you around during the day.”

“You’re stalking me?” Remus asked, glaring at Patton some more.

“Of course not kiddo, I was just looking for you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Remus snapped, turning away as if he had something else to do.  “And don’t call me kiddo.  It’s not like you care about me.”

“That isn’t true.”

Remus whirled back around instantly.  “Yes it is,” he hissed.  “Don’t act like you would have been doing this if what had happened hadn’t happened.”

Patton winced.  “That’s… probably true,” he admitted.  “But it did happen, so it’s kind of irrelevant, isn’t it?”

“Says who?” Remus said, crossing his arms.

“Would you rather I go on being cold and distant?” Patton asked.

“Yes.  You don’t get to claim a relationship with me just because you all suddenly saw the consequences of your own actions.”

Patton narrowed his eyes in concern.  “I’m not trying to claim a relationship with anyone, Remus.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

Patton crossed his arms.  “You’re hurting,” he said.  “You’ve been hurt.  You shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Why, because it’ll make you feel bad?”

“No,” Patton said gently.  “Because it will make you feel bad.”

Remus glared away and said nothing.

“Do you want me to leave?” Patton said.  “I came here to offer some company, but I will leave if you want me to.”

Remus looked suspiciously over again.  “It’s the middle of the night.”

“And?”

Remus didn’t say anything, but after a second he glared away again.  “If you stay you say absolutely nothing,” he snapped.

Patton nodded and sat down on the chair nearby, then didn’t say anything.

Remus glared away again, but Patton didn’t leave.  Instead, they both sat there for a very long time, neither of them saying anything.  It felt more than a little awkward, but Patton still didn’t leave.  And finally, after a couple hours, the sun started to rise, and Remus sank out to his room.

Well, he supposed whatever the hell that was beat sitting there alone.  He still didn’t get what Virgil saw in Patton.

…

Remus knew he was wrong for letting Patton stay.  It was giving the others ideas that they could approach him too, as evidenced by the knock on his door coming way too soon to be Virgil.

Remus waved an extra lock into existence on his door and rolled over in his bed.  It was noon.  He wasn’t getting up yet.

The knock came again.  Remus groaned and shoved a pillow over his ears.

It came a third time.

Remus screamed through his teeth, threw his covers back, and climbed out of bed and stormed over to the door.

“I was sleeping,” Remus snapped as he opened it.  He didn’t stop glaring when he saw it was Logan, but he also didn’t start glaring harder, like he would have with Roman or Janus.

“I apologize,” Logan said.  “I did not mean to wake you up.  What would be a better time to come back?”

“Never,” Remus spat.

Logan hesitated.  “I… do not think that would be wise.”

“I don’t want to see any of your fucking faces.”

“I can certainly understand that perspective,” Logan said.  “But I do not think staying here all by yourself is a good decision.”

“Oh, so you all were checking on Anxiety after he ducked out, then?”

Logan winced.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.  Leave me the fuck alone then.”

He slammed the door in Logan’s face and didn’t get a knock again.

That apparently didn’t mean Logan was done, however, because he woke up a couple hours later to the sound of a piece of paper being slipped under his door.

He sat upright immediately and climbed out of bed again to get it.  Didn’t these idiots know how to transfer paper quietly?

The letter was from Logan, which didn’t really surprise him.

What did surprise him were the contents.

 Remus,

 I am not foolish enough to believe that the changing of my behavior will endear me to you.  However, that is not why you change behavior, so I am going to proceed with doing it anyway.  I hope at least that it will not anger you.

 Remus scoffed but kept reading.

 It is true that I did not treat Anxiety well following his decision to duck out.  I believed you and Anxiety to be a threat, and so I treated you as such.  I do not wish to lie to you, so I will say I don’t think this was necessarily unfair of me, though I do regret how it has seemed to harm you both.

I offered to Anxiety a few days ago a chance to talk if he wished, as I suspected you both had been through something traumatic and I knew that it is important to talk about those things.

 Remus narrowed his eyes.  As if Logan cared whether or not he and Virgil had gone through something.  As if Remus would want to talk to him when he obviously wouldn’t care.

 I would like to extend—

 Ha, like that erection medicine.

 —that same offer to you.  You are of course not obligated to talk, nor would I want you to if you did not wish to.  However, as I said to Anxiety, it is important to know that the offer is there.  So, I have made it.

 Sincerely,

Logan

 Remus glared down at the paper for a moment.  That was stupid.  It was a stupid thing for Logan to do.  As if Remus was going to talk about what he’d gone through to anyone other than Virgil.  They didn’t have the right to know.  That kind of thing needed trust.  And Remus trusted all of them about as much as he cared about them.

He crumpled the letter up and tossed it in his garbage can, the one that wasn’t being used to grow mold, and stormed out of his room and across the commons in order to bang on Logan’s door.

Logan showed up remarkably quickly, and looked surprised to see Remus there.

“I,” Remus said, jabbing a finger against Logan’s chest.  “Don’t want to talk to anyone.  I don’t understand why the concept of leave me alone is so hard for you idiots to get.”

“Isolating yourself is not a good idea, Remus,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses.

“Well lucky for me I don’t have to do shit!  You all were already considerate enough to do that for me!  So at least have the decency to finish what you started and back the hell off.”

He stormed back to his room and slammed his door shut before Logan could say anything in response.

…

Remus was going to kill someone, he’d decided.  He didn’t know what had made everyone decide that it was okay to interact with him, but it was idiotic whatever it was, and Remus had decided he was going to kill someone over it.

It was probably going to be Roman, because more than Patton’s sympathy or Logan’s guilt, he didn’t want Roman’s pity.  He hadn’t wanted it before and he didn’t want it now.  What he wanted was for Roman to go back to hating him.  Obviously that’s what he wanted.  They were brothers, they were supposed to hate each other.

…Virgil was different.

He didn’t want Roman’s pity and he didn’t want his pitiful attempts to fix things and he didn’t want whatever the hell this was.

Remus tossed another brainstorming paper into the fire pit in front of him and poked it with a stick, humming.  He’d lost track of which of those were Roman’s and which were his own.  He supposed it didn’t really matter at this point.

“Remus?”

“Sorry not sorry I burned your shit,” Remus said without turning around.

“I… was trying to see if you wanted to add anything to the idea,” Roman said, walking up to stand next to him.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I was going to do it before what happened too, Remus.”

Remus stopped poking with the stick.  “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

Remus poked harshly with the stick again and didn’t say anything.

“Why would you burn your ideas?” Roman asked, looking over at him.

Remus kept poking at the fire.  “I burned your ideas too.  It’s all shit and none of it matters.”

“That’s not true.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.  You know, because I’ve kind of built a lot of Thomas’ career off of some of those ideas, and I’d like to think it’s not all shit that doesn’t matter.”

Remus kept poking and didn’t say anything.

After a minute, Roman turned away.  “And I’d appreciate you not saying that too,” he said quietly.  “Those ideas weren’t exactly easy to come up with, you know.”

Remus jabbed a log over onto its side.  “Sorry.”

Roman turned to face him again in confusion.  “What?”

Remus moved one of the pieces of paper that had fallen to the side around until it caught ablaze.  “Sorry.”

“Why… are you apologizing?”

“Shut up, no I’m not.”

Roman didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“You didn’t have to burn them.”

“What, you gonna hit me for it?”

“What?  No!”

Roman said it with such immediacy and vitriol that it was obvious what he was thinking about.

Remus shot him a look.  “Shut the hell up.”

“I… I don’t want to hurt you, Remus.”

Remus glared back at the fire and started poking at it again.

“…I’m sorry,” Roman whispered, and Remus went still.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.  “I should have looked closer.”

Remus clenched the stick tighter.

“I mean Anxiety told you, didn’t he?  I would think he would—”

“Yes he told me,” Remus snapped, poking harshly enough to send a shower of sparks up into the air.  “He told me you’re a pathetic little baby who can’t even be bothered to decide whether he cares or not.  If they bothered you why didn’t you come check?”

“I was scared,” Roman said quietly.

Remus laughed.  “Yeah, me too, asshole.”

Roman winced.  “Not of them,” he murmured.  “Of you.”

Remus’ breath caught.  “I didn’t do anything,” he said weakly.  “I didn’t.”

“No, of course not, Remus,” Roman said, like it wasn’t even a question, like Remus hadn’t caused all sorts of new creative problems just because he couldn’t deal with being bored for a little while.

“I was scared of… you taking my place,” Roman said, looking up at the sky.  “And I know that’s not fair, not even close to the kind of stuff you were dealing with.  I just… I don’t know.  I was still scared.  That they’d decide your ideas were better than mine, or that you would be better at coming up with them, and then they’d decide they didn’t want me anymore.”

Remus threw the stick into the fire and threw his head back and laughed.  “Well that’s hilarious,” he said, turning a glare to Roman, who looked a little startled.  “That’s real funny Ro, because from what I remember, I wasn’t the one who took Janus from you.”

Roman’s eyes widened.  “Remus—”

“What the hell do you know about losing people?  I can tell you a few things about that!  It sucks!  And you were kind of right to be afraid of it, so fuck you!”

“I—” Roman reached a hand out, and then dropped it again.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?  Are you sorry that you feel bad?  Is that it?  Because that’s a pretty shitty apology!”

“What?  No, I— I can’t be sorry because I hurt you?”

Remus glared back at the fire, half debating reaching in to grab his stick back.  “Yeah, right.  Since when do you care about me?”

“Since I started having nightmares about you getting hurt,” Roman said quietly.  “And my brain was stupid and just decided to interpret that as missing my brother.”

Remus crossed his arms.  “Well you should have come and said hi.  Maybe noticed all the bruises.”

“I know,” Roman murmured.

Remus glared over at him.  “I don’t forgive you.”

Roman blinked.  “I’m not asking you to forgive me.”

“That wouldn’t make your sad little prince ego feel better?”

Roman looked away.  “It’s not about me, Remus.”

“Isn’t everything?  You’re the creative one Thomathy wants, and the one Janus wants, and the one everyone wants.”

Roman bit his lip.  “I think Anxiety prefers you.”

“Anxiety isn’t here.”

Roman was silent for a long moment.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmured finally.  “Janus hasn’t left his room since we all came back here.  I don’t think he’s ever felt worse about anything.  I know that’s probably not worth much.”

“It isn’t.”

Roman nodded slightly.

“If you don’t want me to forgive you then why are you here?”

“I was checking on you.  I thought… I don’t know.  We could brainstorm.”

Remus kicked the firepit.  “Whoops.”

“It’s okay.  Maybe a break is best right now anyway.”

“Go away now.”

“Okay,” Roman said softly.  “I… you can always talk to me, Remus.  If you want.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Roman nodded again and sank out.

…

Remus didn’t know how to feel about the idea that Janus hadn’t left his room since they got back.  Mostly it pissed him off, honestly.  Virgil was going to be back soon, and if Janus was still hiding in his room like a wimp it would make Virgil concerned or something, and Remus was not going to let him spend time worrying about Janus when he should be recovering.

He’d blame that for why he showed up there one morning.

Janus was watching Thomas over at his desk, leaning heavily on one hand, apparently not having noticed Remus at all yet.

“Hey.”

Janus jumped so badly that he knocked a handful of things to the floor, and spun around with a hand pressed to his chest, breathing heavily.

Remus raised an eyebrow, trying to convey ‘Really?’ with his eyes.

Janus pushed himself up with the back of his chair.  “Remus?” he said weakly.  “What… what are you doing here?”

“You’re not going to be in here when Virgil shows up.”

Janus flinched.  “Remus—”

“You are not, do you hear me?  He’s just going to get worried, because for some reason he ‘cares about you’ and ‘thinks you’re worth saving’ and doesn’t think you ‘deserve everything that’s coming to you.’”

Janus trailed his gaze on the floor.  “He’s wrong.”

“I know that.  But he’s Virgil, you know how stubborn he gets when he’s really decided on something.”

A crumpled paper version of a smile crossed Janus’ face.

“So I’m going to say this once.  You’re going to get the fuck over yourself in the next couple days, and by the time Virgil gets out here, you’re going to be doing your job like a good little Deceit who knows how to suppress entire parts of his personality.  Capiche?”

Janus nodded.  “Okay.”  He didn’t say anything else.

Remus clenched his hands into fists.  “Okay?”

Janus looked up hesitantly.  “Yes?”

“You’re just gonna do what I tell you?”

Janus blinked.  “Do you want me to do something else?”

“I want you— you do not get to be devastated by this,” Remus snapped.  “It is your fault.  You don’t get to be upset.”

“I…” Janus looked lost.  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Well, Remus didn’t know what he wanted him to say either, but he wasn’t going to let Janus know that.  Instead, he summoned his morningstar and hurled it over towards the wall, knocking one of Janus’ posters down.

Janus startled and gripped the back of the chair he was next to until his knuckles turned white.

“I’m sorry,” he said, which was the wrong thing, because Remus might not know what he wanted but he didn’t want that.

“No!” he screamed.  “You’re not!”

But Janus just shook his head.  “Yes I am, Remus,” he said.  “I don’t— I can’t even begin to express to you how much I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Remus spat.  “It won’t be enough and you shouldn’t try!”

Janus nodded and took a small step back.  “Okay.”

“Stop it!  Stop just— just bending to my whims!”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Janus said weakly.

“I want you to not have left!” Remus screamed.  He walked forward and shoved Janus back into his desk, knocking more things onto the floor.  “I want you to have listened when we begged you to stay!  Things were fine,” he shoved Janus again, “when you were there.  Things were manageable and it was fine.  Then everyone decided they liked you, and Thomas decided he liked you, and you just decided ‘oh well who gives a fuck about Virgil and Remus anymore, huh?  It’s not my fault they can only be marginally safe when I’m around!  It’s not my fault that they had to learn how to do first aid on themselves at ten years old!  It’s not my fault that Virgil brings Remus to sleep leaning against Janus’ bedroom door because that’s the only way they’ll be left alone!  No, I have to think about Thomas.  Never mind that I’ve been able to do my job living here until now!  Nevermind that Virgil and Remus are part of Thomas too, and more than that, I’m supposed to be in charge of them so it absolutely is my fault if they get hurt!’”

Janus was leaning back against his desk now, and he tried to wipe discreetly at his eyes as Remus finished screaming, ending up panting with clenched fists shaking at his sides.  He expected Janus to say he hadn’t known, or that he would have done something if he had, but he just said nothing.

“Well?  Say something!”

“Like what?” Janus croaked.  “What am I supposed to say to make this better for you, Remus?”

Remus buried his hands in his hair, yanked on it, and screamed.

“Don’t do that,” Janus said weakly, moving forward pulling Remus’ hands down.

Remus smacked his hands away.  “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Janus dropped his hands, but didn’t move away, meaning he’d probably stop Remus if he pulled his hair again.  So, Remus moved back himself, and leaned back against Janus’ door, then slid to the ground.

“I am never,” he said vehemently.  “Going to forgive you.”

Janus swallowed.  “Good.”

“Stay away from me.  Don’t ever talk to me unless I say you can.  And have your fucking act together by the time Virgil wakes up.”

Janus nodded.  “Okay.”

Remus glared up at Janus and spit in his face.

Janus blinked in shock, but after a second just moved back slightly and wiped it off. 

Remus grabbed the doorknob and used it to hoist himself up.  He opened it and slammed it shut behind him.  Everyone else was out in the commons and staring at him as he did, probably alerted by all the yelling.

Remus gave them a murderous glare and stormed off to his room.

...

Chapter Thirty-Four

[ase-trollplays]

The Time For Reconciliation

Corali drove through the unfamiliar forest on her bright red ATV, her thoughts frantically bouncing around like bumper cars in her head and she tried to formulate exactly what her next move was going to be. It'd been more than two months since she and Thiomi last spoke, and she was still going strong with her sobriety as spite for her former friend strengthened her resolve to stay alcohol free.

She was now three months sober and feeling better than ever physically, but mentally and emotionally there were a lot of unresolved issues that desperately needed to be aired out. She'd never been to Thiomi's hive before and had to fight her kismesis (almost literally) to make him give her the coordinates. However, he didn't elaborate any further than that, so when the coordinates brought her to an empty clearing beneath a small cliff, a rush of anger came over her.

"God damn sonuva bitch. There ain't nothin' here!" Corali fumed and kicked her bike in frustration. She should have known he wouldn't give her the actual coordinates. "I'ma give that jackass a piece a my mind an' a boot so far up his ass he'll be tastin'--"

"Corali??"

The rust woman whirled around to see none other than Thiomi herself atop her enormous mouse lusus. She looked at her with wide eyes as she climbed down, though she didn't make any moves to approach her. Corali sighed and ran a hand through her hair before stuffing both hands into her pockets.

"I'm ready ta talk now."

------------------------------------------------------

"I'm glad to hear you're s-still s-sober," Thiomi said with a forced smile as she took a sip of her tea. Corali sat across from her at the table and drank from a glass of water since Thiomi didn't keep soda or coffee on hand, and she didn't feel like having milk. "I was worried."

"Yeh, well, y'ain't the sole source a my resolve ta stay clean. I can handle myself. If anythin', I did even better after ya went an' made it all about you," Corali spat. Thiomi visibly sink into her chair a little, and Corali looked away from her as though not being able to see that she upset her would rid of her of sudden pang of guilt at upsetting her.

The two sat in uncomfortable silence as they sipped their respective drinks and tried to ignore the tension. After two minutes, Corali couldn't stand it anymore and opened her mouth to say something, but Thiomi managed to beat her to the punch and break the silence first.

"Has Darius--"

"No. Kiddo still ain't talkin' ta me," she interrupted. Thiomi nodded with a disappointed "Mm," and the silence resumed. This time it only took thirty seconds before Corali started going insane from the discomfort of neither of them talking or even looking at each other. She downed the rest of her water and stood up to refill her glass.

"Ya got a nice l'il hive. 'S real cozy. Buildin' it underground was a smart idea; y'ain't gotta worry about undead or folks breakin' in if they don't know where it is. Even if they find it, they'd get lost in the tunnels."

"Thank you. The tunnels are all Mom's doing, really. S-she likes digging and burrowing."

"Heh, so's my pa, but he don't got nothin' this extensive. Least, I don't think he does."

With her water replenished, Corali took her seat across from Thiomi, and silence resumed once more. This was getting ridiculous now. Of course, Corali knew why this kept happening. The elephant in the room had been obvious from the moment they saw each other outside.

Unacceptable. If Thiomi was going to stubbornly ignore it, then Corali decided she was going to be the one to finally address it because these constant silences were bordering on painful. She slammed a metal hand on the table, startling both Thiomi and her lusus (Who'd been sleeping until now).

"Okay, enough a this shit. We gotta talk about two months ago cuz I'm not about ta sit here in silence fer another gotdang minute," she declared and looked Thiomi directly in the eyes. Thiomi glanced downward and, with a sigh, looked back at her guest with forlorn eyes.

"... Yeah, I guess we s-should," she said and took a deep inhale. "I'm s-sorry. I s-should have taken a s-step back when I realized my feelings for Mareth were resurfacing," Thiomi apologized, though Corali's gaze remained hard. "Instead, I treated you like her replacement and used your s-struggle to make myself feel better about how things ended with her, and that was... it was an awful thing to do to a friend."

Thiomi pauses to sniffle and wipe away translucent green tears forming on her eyes. Corali felt a little bad seeing her start to cry, but still being hurt herself, she found her sympathy lacking.

"Yeh, that was a real rotten thing ya did. D'ya have the slightest idea how shitty that feels? I ain't a win ta put under yer belt or a replacement fer a failed quadrant. I was damn near fightin' fer my fuckin' life. This sober shit's one a the hardest things I ever done, an' I was weak an' strugglin' ta keep goin', an' y'all fuckin' took advantage a me. Ya say it didn't start that way, but when ya knew that's where it was goin', ya shoulda just told me! Ya shoulda told me an' fucked off until ya got yer shit back tagether!"

By the time Corali was done venting, Thiomi was reduced to silent tears and crying. She choked out a pitiful "I'm sorry," and part of her took a vindictive joy in seeing how upset she was. However, the pleasure was quick to fade, and she groaned and gritted her teeth as the next words came out of her mouth.

"But I fergive ya."

Thiomi looked at her in complete disbelief as tears continued to fall. She struggled to find words to voice her shock for several moments before finally managing to utter a single "W... what?"

"What y'all did was prolly one a the shittiest things anyone's ever done ta me in my life, but... I fergive ya. I'd be a hypocrite not ta. I mean, I hauled off an' assaulted my son over a bottle a beer, an' I been desperate fer him ta fergive me. How am I s'posed ta expect him ta fergive a big mistake when I won't even fergive a big mistake?"

Thiomi wiped away more tears threatening to fall and took a deep breath as she looked at Corali with relief mixed in with her sadness and regret. She smiled at her, and Corali gave her a small smile in return.

"Right, so now it's done. No more stewin' over that shit. Ya said yer sorry, an' I fergave ya. Problem solved, arright?" Corali stated and held out her hand. Thiomi sniffled as she slowly and gingerly reached across the table to take her hand. Corali grabbed her hand tightly and gave it a firm, hard shake. "Good."

The silence that followed was much less agonizing this time around and didn't last nearly as long as they drank their drinks and resumed chatting like old friends. After about an hour of talking and catching up, Corali allowed the conversation to drop off. The tension crept back again as she considered her next words.

"I wasn't just stoppin' by ta get the bullshit squared away," she stated with an uncharacteristic wavering in her voice. Thiomi stared at her in confusion, then worry. Corali ran a hand through her hair and bit her lip. She couldn't bring herself to look Thiomi in the face and turned her head to the side to stare at the wall. Although she couldn't see her, she could feel Thiomi's eyes on her staring in apprehension.

"I met someone recently while I was huntin'. She gave me a place ta lick my wounds an' get a l'il settled, an' we got ta talkin'. I was ventin' ta her an she, ah... she made me realize somethin'. Somethin' kinda important," Corali said as her face flushed the lightest shade of red. She prided herself on being direct and never beating around the bush when she had something to say, but now her boldness was failing her. Just do it! Treat it like a bandaid and rip it off! she told herself and took the deepest breath she could before looking back at Thiomi.

"I-I'm pale fer ya," she finally managed to spit out. Thiomi gaped at her with a hand modestly covering her mouth, and Corali immediately regret confessing to her. The silence was absolutely deafening, and it was making her anxiety flare up. She could feel herself becoming angry at the lack of a response after she put herself out there and let herself be vulnerable. She clenched one of her fists for a few seconds before unclenching it and swallowing her anxiety.

"Well? Ya gonna say somethin'?"

More silence. It was getting harder to contain her anxiety; she could practically feel the yellows of her eyes changing. Thankfully, before she had a chance to say "Fuck it" and storm out in shame, Thiomi finally spoke.

"I'm s-sorry, I just... I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm flattered, really," she started, and Corali's heart sank like a lead balloon. She knew a rejection when she heard one. It was probably for the best. Hell, she fully expected to be shot down, but that didn't take the sting off at all. She put up a hand to silence any further speech and stood up.

"Y'ain't gotta say nothin' else. I just needed ta get it out there cuz not sayin' nothin' was drivin' me nuts."

"Corali, wait--"

She turned and started walking back toward the hive's entrance, and she could hear the legs of Thiomi's chair drag across the ground as she stood up and followed her.

"Please, just let me--"

"Nah, nah, it's fine. I get it. Ya don't feel the same. 'S alright, no big deal."

"But I do feel the s-same!"

Now it was Corali's turn to stare wide-eyed as she stopped within inches of exiting the doorway and turned around to face her. Thiomi stared back at her with a frown on her lips, and they stayed locked in eye contact before Corali furrowed her brow and crossed her arms incredulously.

"Bullshit," Corali said as Thiomi fussed with her hair and bit her lip anxiously while averting her gaze. "Yer gon' hafta fergive me fer bein' more'n a l'il skeptical considerin' what happened a couple perigees back an' why."

"I know. Believe me, I know," she answered with a pained sigh. She looked up at Corali and prepared to crumple under a judgmental stare, but there wasn't one to be found. She was, in fact, glaring at her, but there was very little malice behind it. If anything, it was closer to a look of concern than anger.

"You're a lot like Mareth, maybe too much like her. I don't have any doubts that I'm pale for you. ... But I'm also s-still in mourning, and I don't know for s-sure if my feelings are genuine or because I'm s-still grieving. I want to give us a try, but not if it's for the wrong reason," Thiomi explained solemnly. Corali's expression eased, and she nodded sadly.

"Ya mentioned yer seein' a therapist now, right? Yer gonna get better eventually, an' I still got a good number a sweeps left in me, so why don't we just wait?" Corali suggested with a shrug and the smallest hint of a smile. Thiomi's frown not only persisted, but deepened as well.

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Yer not askin'. I'm offerin'."

"I don't know how long it'll take for me to move on."

"I ain't in no rush."

"What if you meet someone else you'd rather be diamonds with?"

"What if I don't?"

"Corali, please. I'm not someone worth waiting for. I've already hurt you before."

"An' I fergave ya, so it ain't a issue anymore. I'll be the one ta decide if waitin' ain't worth it, so quit makin' excuses. If it don't work out, then oh well. Least we tried."

"But..." Thiomi struggled to find the words to say to convince Corali to change her mind. However, she couldn't come up with anything she was sure the rust blood wouldn't immediately find some sort of counter to. "I don't deserve you. ... But I can't really stop you, can I?"

Corali placed a hand on Thiomi's head, earning a surprised squeak from her, and gave her hair a gentle ruffle. "Nope, ya can't. We both know what a stubborn shithead I am. Just ask yer matesprit."

Thiomi sighed and smiled at that, and Corali retracted her hand.

"S-so how long do you plan on waiting?" Thiomi asked, and Corali placed her hand on her chin in a thinking pose

"I'm willin' ta wait fer as long as it takes, but since ya wanna put a time limit on it, how about 'til my suspension from my job is up in a l'il under half a sweep. That should be plenty a time fer that therapist a yers ta getcha sorted," she said. Of course, she fully intended to keep waiting beyond that deadline if need be assuming nothing happened to change her feelings. "Whaddya say, we got a deal?"

Corali once again held her hand out to her, and Thiomi smiled and took hold much more confidently than she did previously.

"It's a deal."

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Tears Ain’t Comin’

Brace yourself for all will pay Help is on the way

[x]

They took her in manacles, not cuffs. Blood still spattered on her prosthetics and her mouth snarling threats and hatred they took her away as her baby brother, her sunshine kid, was packed into an ambulance his father barely fit into.

Whirl held his son’s hand tight enough to bruise, whispering nothing but apologies as he stared a thousand yards away and tried to wipe away the blood and mess from a face that used to laugh with a little gap-toothed grin.

Quickdraw whimpered, the shock beginning to settle and adrenaline beginning to fade as the roar of the ambulance surrounded him- he could feel it, how fast it moved; but what he’d give to see the lights tracking his vitals.

“I-I c-can’t se-ee; I can’t, Papa I’m trying I can’t see I want M-Mimi! WHERE’S MIMI I NEED MIMI I CAN’T SEE, I CAN’T BREATHE? HELP ME, WHERE’S MIMI I WANT MY SISSA-”

“I know kiddo, she’s comin’ don’t worry-”, Whirl’s hands shook hard enough to rattle their screws and bolts as he cupped his son’s slashed face and tried to calm him from the panic rising over a young spine and shaking a skull into radio static, “She’s on her way she’s just a li’l bit late baby-bird. It’s okay, Papa’s here.”

The wail torn from his son as he strained against the belts holding him on the gurney broke the last dangling shards of Whirl’s heart like stained glass shrapnel in a bombed out church.

=============================================

Mimi sat in the back of the Enforcer shuttle, arms manacled too tight behind her back as she stared unbreakingly into a rearview mirror.

“I need to go the hospital.”, she said flatly, “My baby brother has been hurt. He needs me.”

“I think the fuck not, Mimosa.”, was Magnus snapped reply as his knuckles whited out from his grip on the steering controls, “You unloaded two illegal pistols into a crowd of TEENAGERS.”

“They gouged out my baby brother’s eyes. You are lucky I didn’t do worse. You remember what happened to Getaway, don’t you? When my family got ahold of him.”, she said, her voice never changing.

“You endangered my SONS-”

“YOU endangered your sons, Magsie-boo.”, she suddenly sneered, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten when THEIR words came out of YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. You traitorous bitch of a man.”

He turned his head slightly, “That is in the PAST-”

“It’s mine and my siblings FUTURE because you patsy the piece of shit who helped start it and you know it. What do you think will happen to your boys, now that everyone knows they’re friends with Quickdraw? Will you chain yourself up when they’re hurt for the sake of the law?”

Magnus fell silent.

“I’ll say it again. I need to go to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Then get fucked, Senate-pet.”

“MIMOSA DON’T YOU DARE-”

And the shatter of the window was loud, the crack of the hinges louder. The vehicle swerved and the door dropped loose as she rolled out. The ground was rough, hard like gravel and ice and burned the way blaster fire smelled on an almost forgotten ship.

And she got to her feet, shaking herself off as she heard the screech of a haphazard stop- and she ran.

The binds on her wrists jangled, but her lungs didn’t burn. Her mouth set in a grim line and she ran into the dark as magnus watched her go; his feet like lead as her words echoed and he wondered-

Who else had he betrayed before this?

Her running footsteps were so loud as she turned down familiar alleys and streets; the lights flickering as she passed them at an ever increasing pace. Towards her home, first- 

‘I’m on my way, li’l guy.’, she thought to herself as she put on just a little more speed as she saw her backyard’s fence, ‘I just gotta get there, I’m on the way.’

“I promised I’d always be there, QD.”

[He was young, small and scared- He crouched down to hide his height as he passed by the messhall tables of the LL and felt the glare of old Wrecker’s with old bones to pick over and scuttled to her side. 

His hand was small where it curled tight to hold onto her shirt first- then the leg of her sweatpants when she stood up. Blaster’s sneer was loud in the flourescent lights and Mimi’s fists were clenched.

“Little shit needs to learn to salute-”

“And big pieces of shit need to be flushed- get facefucked by an airlock stream buddyfucker.”, she snapped back as she gently shepherded her little brother behind her hip.

He slugged her that day- his defense was ‘she was a Wrecker born, she knows how ranks work’ when Rodimus stepped in with a grim frown and raised eyebrows.

Magnus looked away and Mimi swore she’d remember that.]

Her prosthetic feet slammed into the ground hard enough to leave little craterprints behind as she got over the fence and tore around to the garage. She wriggled her limbs- wincing at the pop in her left shoulder as it dislocated and she leaned back. One step, two step. The manacles in from of her and the shift in her bones that sent pain radiating until she got to the vice on the workbench. Chain in the teeth and she leaned to bite down on the rag tied to a handle and she set to work. Slow turns and hard tugs that made tendons scream until the manacle link gave way and her arms went to her sides and she exhaled a swear. She reset her shoulder as she walked to the backdoor keyrack and snatched the keys to a vehicle- studying them for a moment before jogging to what was unfortunately Ratchet’s pride and joy.

“I do his laundry, it’s a fair trade.”, she growled as she got in and settled.

The rumble of an engine firing to life, and the creak of the autodoor folding open.

===========================================

Quickdraw howled again in pain- the doctors sharing terrified looks as they shook their heads.

“We can’t give him any more- we don’t know why it won’t take he should be UNCONSCIOUS from this much-”

Brainstorm bared teeth made of violence and mistreatment as calloused fingers wound into a surgeon’s shirt and the scientists shook him until perfect white teeth clicked like falling stones, “I TOLD YOU TO FUCKING CALL RATCHET, I FUCKING TOLD YOU AND NOW MY BABY IS SUFFERING WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING INCOMPETENT CALL MY HUSBAND RATCHET OR I SWEAR TO YOUR GOD I’LL SEND YOUR PARTS TO A SOLDIER-FACTORY FOR REUSE-”

Whirl sat, in shock, watching his son sob like he was dying and blinking empty eye sockets and thrashing as they tried to remove the remnants of golden eyes.

“Mimi’s comin’.”, rasped the ex-Wrecker, “She’s. She’s gonna be here. She has to, she... We. I. I need her here, I need my Froggy to help I don’t...”

Brainstorm turned, releasing the surgeon he shook like a rattle to bolt to Whirl’s side and hold his face in sudden fear, “hey, hey babe- c’mon, look at me. Look at me sweetheart, c’mon. It’ll. It’ll be alright, I promise-”

“I-I-I...”, Whirl’s voice was shaking, breaking down and Brainstorm felt his heart break with it when Whirl finally pulled away from his thousand yard stare with tears suddenly pouring from eyes that had seen more than hell, “I wan. Froggy. H-Here!”

The sob around the words sent a shockwave through the room.

“W-Where’s. Where’s Ratch, an-nd Percy an’ Drift an’ Cyc, pl-please I. I’m scared honeybee, I’m SCARED Brainstorm my baby boy is hurtin’ it sounds like he’s DYIN’-”

Brainstorm held Whirl tight as he could, feeling tears soak the shirt he wore and heard the sobs muffled by a heartbeat and he turned a golden glare to the medics watching in terror.

“Make. The calls. Or this hospital is up in smoke.”, he said, his voice dangerously calm, “You know my name, you know what I’ve done. Do not for a moment assume I wouldn’t do it again.”

Ratchet was distraught when he finally got the comm. He burst like a thunderstorm, snarling threats and epithets after he threw open the doors and demanded to know why he hadn’t been immediately informed of the chosen medical facility as soon as his son had been loaded up and shipped away.

When the whimpered answer of, “We were informed by the enforcer at the scene to withhold all information as he took in a suspect, and not to release to anyone-”

“THEN BRING ME THE FUCKING HEAD OF MAGNUS HIMSELF GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!”

Magnus winced where he hid- no, GUARDED- the victim’s room. He hfelt more than heard Ratchet’s stomping footsteps before he cleared his throat and looked up; knowing the CMO was taking in the sootmarks and little bandages sprinkkled over the Enforcer’s arms.

“Ratchet, let me explain-”

“No, no explainin’ you insufferable lapdog of God’s Favorite Fuckups. You wanna give an EXPLANATION? You give it to Percy. Drift, you and Cyc are with me.”

Magnus blinked in shock as the three men passed by- shooting him looks of hateful disdain as they disappeared into the room and Ratchet’s bellow silence even the machine alarms.

And Perceptor stood too straight- Spine too strong and eye ice cold as he unbuttoned the cuffs of sleeves and pulled them up to his elbows.

“Start speaking, Enforcer.”, was the soft demand- lined in permafrost and a threat, “Be quick, my patience has run out and my eldest daughter is also missing. Chop-chop lapmutt.”

“She unloaded your old pistols into a crowd of teenagers.”

“Adult actions beget adult consequences. Why did you withhold Quickdraw’s location.”

“I was worried about retaliation-”

“Against wannabee vigilantes who attempted to murder my daughter and my son?”, said Percy, a bitter quirk to his lips, “Fascinating that you still protect criminals when you see fit. Where is my daughter.”

“She...”

“I hope she kicked your skull in, I’d happily take in your boys and husband.”

Magnus twitched, narrowing his eyes.

“She escaped your clutches because you’ve never been very good at your job. Your offhand treatment of the sentiments that led to this are a direct cause of harm to my family. Tell me, Magnus. Do you remember the Wreckers, that mission?”

“Of course I do- especially that day-”

“Wanna see what it was like, Magnus?”

Cold air settled around them it seemed, the exhale of winter- or the gust from a morgue refrigeration unit opening.

“Would you like to experience death, Magnus? I’ve a mind to kill you in this hallway, you know.”, said Perceptor with his expression unchanging. The Sniper from Altihex. Seekerbane. The Deadeye of the Trion, “You serve a man you know betrayed us all- you defended him, allowed him to take his position. You lick the boots of men who’d kill your boys and the supposed love of your life. And now they are going to know about, Magnus. This? There will be questions. And Rodimus hates lying.”

Perceptor laughed like ghosts haunted his vocal chords, laughed like the dead laughed with him like an invisible jury.

“You’ve made a grave error, Magnus. This was beyond an overstep. And if I find out you made any other mistakes, well.”

The smile dropped, the chime of a reticle still capable of targeting coming to life sounded like Primus’s own warning, “Then I will make you your own Garrus 9. However, unlike Overlord- I will be taking far more from you than just the physical.”

“You are threatening an officer-”

“Tell someone then, Magnus. Go on.”

Perceptor pulled out his personal comm device, “Here, use mine. Tell them- and I’ll tell your boys how you sent me and their uncles all into Garrus 9. I’ll tell them all about how you let their carrier’s murderer walk about on their carrier’s ship. How you thought his fear was funny, then annoying.”

“Announce my sins, Magnus of line Ambus- just know I can list yours too.”

Magnus cowed, and Perceptor stared a moment longer before tucking away his personal comm, “That’s what I thought. Try not to botch this investigation, would you? Maybe then I’ll find some forgiveness in me. Maybe.”

“My boys-”

“Are in danger now.”, was the simple answer, “But... not from me. Never from me. Mimi adores the twins, you know that. But the people you protect? The ones you so happily serve? Created this problem. And you allowed the rot to spread all for the sake of comfort. The same shit you’ve always done, haven’t you?”

A scoff of disgust before a sniff, “Like father like son, I suppose.”

And with that razorblade sentence sliding over Magnus’s skin Perceptor took his leave, stepping into the room with that slipstream of arctic frost following him.

Quickdraw sobbed again, feeling hands on his arms and his chest and his head and his face and thrashing against it even as socket’s still leaked clotting blood.

“GIVE ME MY MIMI, GIVE ME MIMI I NEED MIMI I NEED MY SISSA GIVE HER BACK STOP TOUCHING ME I HATE YOU GO AWAY I CAN’T SEE, MIMI I WANT MY MIMI-”

Perceptor sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed his son’s hand gently, squeezing twice.

“Quickdraw- it’s Papaceptor.”, his voice was gentle and warm, “Focus on my voice, little sunshine. Focus on my words.”

Quickdraw gulped air as his chest heaved and he sobbed with tears leaking crimson.

“Listen, little one, I know how scary it is- I know.”, he continued as Ratchet’s bellow quieted to a harsh whisper as he directed the other medics and Brainstorm backed tearfully away to watch next to Whirl and Cyclonus.

“Listennn, listen little one, I’m right here- squeeze my hand until the scared stops- just like with Mimi.”

“I c-c-can’t SEE-”

“I know. I’ve been there too little sunshine.”, he whispered gently before looking to Whirl and nodding to call him over, Papa Whirl is here too, he knows how scary it is.”

Perceptor nodded for Whirl to follow his lead. Each held one of Quickdraw’s hands as they removed their respective eye coverings- showing old scars form ancient wounds.

“Reach up, slowly- listen for our breath, listen for our words and let it guide you to touch our faces.”

Quickdraw nodded, sobbing again as a medication pump activated on a timer. He let his hands drift up after they were released, hesitant and scared, and gently patted for his father’s faces. He felt cheekbones, the brush of eyelashes- the scars of lost sight.

“Mimi will be here soon, I know it. I don’t know where she is but I know she will be here.”, murmured Perceptor, “She promised she’d always be there, remember?”

“I wan-nt my MIMI!”, sobbed Quickdraw as his hands dropped to the bed- his face pale from bloodloss, “NO MORE DOCTORS ONLY MY MIMI!”

========================================

She glanced in the rearview, seeing the flicker of lights come to life behind her as she pushed her speed into the red. Leave it to magnus and those Enforcer’s to take her little brother out into the middle of god knows where.

“Fucking hospital d’bootlicker at the corner of hell and handbasket, I swear.”, she hissed to no one- ignoring the swelling in her shoulders and the weight of broken manacle-cuffs on her wrists. The accelerator hit the floor and she whipped around a turn with a screech of tires and laugh as her pursuer sped by with what she knew would be a shocked look on their face. She laughed like her fathers, she laughed like old devils- she gunned it when she saw the lights ahead and couldn’t help but dig in a glovebox for what she knew her father hid in it.

The lighter flick reflected the fire in her eyes as she sped ever faster to where she was needed; wintergreen smoke bleeding out of a slightly open window as she whipped around another corner and bulled the vehicle through a barricade she knew didn’t belong there.

Ratchet looked up when he heard the muster of security, raising both eyebrows before he moved to the window.

“...Perce. Darlin’.”

“Yes?”

“Your daughter stole my car.”

“She does your laundry. Quid pro quo.”

When Mimi exited the vehicle, still managing to park perfectly legally, she looked at the pay-by-hour Enforcers who met her with a deadpan look in her eyes and the flick of something away from her.

“Move or I do you like I did those little wannabe killers. You have to the count of twenty. One...Two...”

Their radios hissed in unison- and Magnus’s voice sounded from them.

“Stand down. I repeat, stand down. Let her through.”, his said softly over the airwaves; and Mimi looked up at wide windows and wondered which room he hid in to see her arrive. 

She waved regardless- and saw a shadow move almost too high up to notice.

And with that, she strode in- the rattle of prosthetics like the click of a criminal’s spurs or a hero’s weapon.

“I am Mimi of Kimia- I need to get to my baby brother.”, she said softly when eyes fell on her, “He needs me right now- he’s been hurt badly.”

“Th-The trauma case that just came in. W-With the eyes?”, asked the receptionist as he got to his feet, “With the wavy hair- Enforcer Magnus came in with him and you look suspicious I don’t think-”

“MIMI HE’S IN ROOM 348!”, called a voice from the sea of waiting people. Mimi turned, seeing the bright splash of Rodimus’s hair next to twin puffs of curls she knew too well.

“Forge, Dom what-”

“He’s in room 348, Dad didn’t want us to tell you he said you were going to jail!”, said Forge, breathless and looking like he’d been crying, “I treid to-to tell him he’s wrong you were protecting QD but he wouldn’t listen-”

“He never does kiddo, that’s why old Megadick was on the ship your carrier had.”, she said flatly, hating the the way the words hit the boys like a lead bar and taking in Rodimus’s sudden spark of temper and matching it with her own, “Calm down Padre Prime- at least I’m not listing all of his fuckups; or yours. Hey, boys. Ask your parents why witness statements got Roddy over ther clocked.”

She relished the wince from the Prime before she turned on her heel and stalked to an elevator- shoving her way in and daring someone to snap about it. And then the wait- watching the lights that moved too slow and smooth until finally she could bolt like she had to escape all those hours before. Down halls and glancing at numbers with a precision both inherited and practiced until she skidded to a halt in front of the door she needed- and she heard it.

“I! WANT! MY MIMI! NOW!!”

She shouldered the door open, acid-green eyes bright and hair mussed and smelling of smoke and shuttle fuel and sweat and gunfire.

“I’m here kiddo, I’m right here!”

Quickdraw froze, empty sockets locking onto the source of her voice as she jogged in and Perceptor moved with easy grace to help her sit in his previous position.

“I’m right here, li’l dude. I’m here sunshine-boy. Can you hear me, here gimme your hand-”

Quickdraw’s lips trembled and he tilted his head back- sobbing with no sound as Mimi took her little brother’s hands and put them to her cheeks and her own tears started, “I’m sorry baby-boy, I didn’t wanna be late but stuff got in the way but I’m here now- I’m right here like I always promised I would be-”

“Th-They hurt my EYES I CAN’T SEE-”

“I know, I know, shhhhh- c’mere scoot over c’mon.”

“Mimi, I don’t-”, began Ratchet, but the look she shot him made him shiver and glance at Perceptor, who smiled with no mirth and nodded.

‘She gets it from me.’, went unsaid.

‘It’s her only warning before she lives up to my name.’, was understood.

And Mimi grunted when she settled next to Quickdraw in the wide hospital bed, uncaring of the blood that leaked from his face as he cried with silent sobs and curled into her side- burying his face against her chest before moving so his ear rested over her heartbeat like Perceptor had done for her for many years.

“I’m here kiddo. Sissa is here.”, she whispered, “Let the doctors do doctor stuff, m’kay? Just like when you were little, I’ll be right here and hold your hand; gimme those fingies young’n.”

Quickdraw giggled thickly- full of pain medication and terror and fear and relief and it was Ratchet who sighed- pulling gloves on and muttering about protocol before shaking his head and waving an assistant over.

Quickdraw let his head be turned- letting himself cry out as viscera was carefully trimmed after a needle numbed the area for the twelfth time that night.

Quickdraw held tight to Mimi’s hand, she kissed his temple and hummed a lullaby she taught herself so many years ago- when a little boy in dinosaur pajamas said “Sissa!” in a squeaky voice, lisping on the s and giggling when she wiggled her ears at him with a smile.

“I promised.”, she murmured at the chatter of surgery preparation and room clearing began, “I promised I’d always be there, QD. I’m here now, it’s okay. Go to sleep, and I’ll wake you in the morning when it’s all over.”

“Wiv toas?”, was QD’s slurred request as his body finally stopped fighting sedatives and painkillers and began to slip into drugged sleep.

“Yeah, dino-baby. With french toast and extra syrup and fluffy eggs just the way you like ‘em.”

He dropped away, she carefully extricated herself and then cracked her neck.

“Are you alright?”, asked Perceptor.

“Magnus manacled me. Had to slip my shoulders to get out of it like Dadspin taught me. Where are the other kids. They need me.”

“With Rodimus and the twins.”

“Mm. He’s going to hate me for a bit. May have narced to his boys how shitty parents used to be.”

“A pleasant change from announcing my mistakes.”

“Don’t get used to it.”, she said flatly- emotion drained from her like grace from God as Quickdraw whas wheeled away with Ratchet by his side and tight-lipped in anger, “Someone bring my other kiddos to me- walking hurts. Had to roll out of a moving fucking vehicle and kick free so I could book it home for the car.”

“Far ahead of you.”, said Cyclonus, tucking away his comm, “Rodimus- well, little Dominus the Second is bringing them up.”

“Good.”

The door opened and Chrona was first through- sobbing her apologies in a voice made hoarse from old screams and Mimi folded her into a hug- bundling  her and Kiki and Dani into a protective hug made familiar by a world that wore pleasantness as a facade.

“It’s okay, I’m right here now- Just like I promised.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Proud II

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: The London Derby against Chelsea

Something was wrong.

Something was desperately wrong.

But you couldn't tell what it was.

All you knew was pain as you laid face-first in the grass. Pain in your head. Pain in your body. Pain in your foot.

"Shit, shit," You heard above you," Oh, babygirl, I'm so sorry."

You knew that voice. You knew that voice very well.

You sobbed into the grass.

Another voice appeared at your side. Hands clutched at your shoulders.

"Hey, kid," Leah said softly," We're going to roll you over, okay?"

"No," You sobbed," No. No, please."

"I'm sorry, kiddo," Leah said," But we need to do this. I'll be so gentle."

You were turned until you looked up at the sky, the summer sun blaring down on you. Pain radiated through your body. You could see Leah and Beth looking down at you.

You turned your head to look at the defender that had taken you down.

Morsa.

"Oh, babygirl," She said," I'm so sor-"

"You need to back up, Eriksson." Katie came barrelling out of nowhere, shoving your Morsa away forcefully.

Morsa shoved her back. "That's my kid. Don't tell me what to do."

"Your kid that you just fouled!" Katie spat back.

Their conversation was drowned out as Momma approached, crouching down next to you.

"Hurts, Momma," You said, clutching at your ankle," Bad."

"I know," Momma said," I know, baby. Just wait a minute, for me. We're gonna get help."

Her tone was soft and soothing and you wiggled yourself closer until you could press your forehead against where her knee was resting on the ground.

"So bad, Momma," You said, tears choking you," So, so bad."

"I know, I know," Momma repeated. She pulled you closer into her. "It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

But she didn't sound too sure, not when you were sobbing into her like a baby and Morsa was being shown a red by the ref.

A gut-wrenching scream escaped you as the medics moved your ankle. You tried to pull away but couldn't with the way you were being cradled by Momma.

"She needs to come off," You heard the medic say," We need to check her ankle properly."

"Okay, okay." Momma nodded. "Hey, baby, we're gonna get up, alright? You've got to come off."

You could do nothing as Momma wrapped an arm around one shoulder and Leah took your other. You hobbled, your ankle feeling excruciatingly painful, to the side lines with the last bit of dignity you had left.

Morsa approached slowly, reaching for you. "Baby-"

"Go away." You turned so you didn't have to look at her.

"y/n, I-"

"I won't say it again." You flinched when she reached out for you, hand resting on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix my ankle," You spat back bitterly," Fuck!"

Normally, Morsa would tell you off for such language but she didn't. She didn't leave either, just sat with you as the medics flexed your foot. She stayed at your side even as you ordered her away, tears still running down your cheeks as anger boiled in your blood.

The anger pumped through your system as a boot was fitted to your foot and you were given a pair of crutches.

Soon enough, it was just you sitting half inside the tunnel with your Morsa by your side. She still had her hand on your shoulder so you shoved it off, glaring ahead as Beth snuck in around Millie Bright and scored.

"You can't ignore me forever. I'm sorry, babygirl. I don't even know what I was thinking."

Stubbornly, you ignored her.

"I said I was sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen. Honestly, babygirl, I'm so, so sorry."

You kept ignoring her.

"y/n, seriously. You can't ignore me."

"What do you want me to say?!" You whirled on her, the tears you were trying to keep at bay spilling down your cheeks. "You've fucked up my ankle! I'm in a boot!"

"I was doing my job. None of it was personal."

"Of course it was personal! Everything that you do on that pitch to me is personal!" You took a deep breath, clenched fists shaking from where they were resting on your thighs. "You got a red card for it. My ankle's fucked."

"I know," Morsa said softly. She didn't try to touch you again. "I know, babygirl."

Her voice was quiet, meant just for the two of you despite the amount of phone cameras pointed in your direction, sitting in the tunnel together.

"It hurts, Morsa." Your voice came out choked as your throat closed up. "It hurts so much."

"I know," Morsa said again, allowing you to make the first move, leaning into her and hiding your face in her neck," I know and I'm so sorry. I acted in a way that I shouldn't have and I'm so sorry."

The echoing of approaching football boots surrounded you and suddenly Momma was stood in front of you.

She glared down at Morsa, who shrunk down under the weight of her stare.

"That was stupid," She said coldly," And reckless. And completely irresponsible, Magda! To foul her is one thing. That's expected. To wipe her out like that? Unacceptable! Look at her! She's wearing a boot."

"I've already apologised."

"That's not good enough! She's in a boot! She'll need to be on painkillers! Need to go to rehab! Sorry doesn't cut it! You're going to be grovelling for days, Magdalena Lilly Eriksson! I can promise you that!"

It wasn't often that Momma got mad at Morsa but this was clearly one of those times. She pulled you up and away, tucking you into her side and walking off, guiding you on your crutches further into her body.

"Morsa's going to walk home tonight," She informed you," And we're going to get a takeaway. What do you want?"

[polyhexianchicken]

Ah, look, here comes Whirl's son - running down the hall? Soundwave caught himself on the blue mech, spinning to give him the quickest hug and blurt out, "Hi dad!" before he whips around and sprints off down the hall, yelling "bye dad!" over his shoulder. He disappeared around the corner, and a moment later a mech splattered in so much green and pink paint they're unrecognizable comes running from the same area Soundwave had come from. They ignore Whirl and run after the brat, only to be hit by a weaponized cloud of sparkly confetti from a confetti cannon. Soundwave can be heard cackling just out of sight, and then the sound of him running off again. // I SAID I was gonna send Whirl hugs they just have to be chaotic ahikhfwaa

"Hey KiiiIIAawoaaah??" Whirl went to greet his son, stunned completely at the grab and spin. The running and the quick hug? Not as suprising, hell, he wouldn't be suprised if the mech had lept for the vents as soon as he had hugged Whirl.

"I- uh. Bye then?" He wheezed out, oggling after the unrecoginzeable mech in utter confusion. Did Soundwave...?

At the explosion he jerked back suprised yet again, blinking a few times as his processor finally caught up with what happened, having to lean on his thighs from laughing so hard.

"Yeaaah that's my kid alright, pfft."

[mingis-lightbulb]

A Demon’s Desire

Plot: All she wanted was a fruit cup.and love.

Warnings: Demon!San, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos), dirty talk, rough sex, breeding king, marking/biting, oral sex (female recieving), dom!San, sub!(y/n), degradation (slut, whore..etc), reader-chan feels a little sad, San cheers her up. Let me know anything I miss.

A/n: I’m not good at smuts but I had this story in mind and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do~! What other members should I write for?

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(Y/n) hums as she leaves the comfort of her bedroom, heading to the kitchen. Swaying her hips as she heads to the fridges, swinging it open to reach for a fruit cup she had.

Bending over to reach the item, she let out a squeak of surprise from not being able to get it. Suddenly she felt a someone press their pelvis right against her ass, a soft growl coming from behind her.

“You were waiting for me huh?~ My little slut.”

(Y/n) gasps and pops up, whirling around quickly ready to fight the person before sighing. “San! Don’t do that! You scared the shit outta me.” 

The male standing behind her let out a soft chuckle, placing his hands on her thighs, smirking at the blush on the (h/c) girls face. San was a 5’9 black haired demon male with sultry half lidded red eyes, a smirk filled sharp teeth. San wore a black buttoned down shirt with the top three buttons undone with matching black slacks that hugged him in all the right places.

San moves his hands from her thighs to her back, pulling her close to him. “Sorry babe~ I don’t mean to scare you.” He says, placing his face in the crook of her neck, placing an experimental kiss on her neck. (Y/n) lets out a soft sigh rolling her eyes. “San, I thought you were busy tonigh-ah! San!” (Y/n) cuts herself off with a sharp moan as San bites down on her neck, sucking gently on the bite, smirk softly against her skin.

“I can’t come back to see my favorite human~” San teases, pulling her over to the kitchen counter, hoisting her up on it. “Besides, I want something else right now honey~”

(Y/n) gasps as he pushes her legs apart, pulling her shorts down and tossing them somewhere in the kitchen. San pulls her to the end of the counter as he sinks down to his knees, playfully gasping as he raises a hand to run a finger down her already dripping core. “My my~ Such a whore~ first no panties, now you’re sopping wet and I haven’t even touched you.” He practically growled, making (Y/n) shiver with delight.

San usually was gentle lover, for a demon he was surprisingly very calm and caring, always asking (Y/n) if she was uncomfortable, never going past anything she did not want to do. She hated when he would leave and always missed him, but she knew that she possibly could not be the only human that he was seeing. She wanted to be the only one that got wrecked by him every night, crying,out his name and telling him how good he feels.

But she knew that it would never happen.

San must’ve noticed the look on her face, he slightly pats on her inner thigh, his red eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay? You zoned out.” He asks, (Y/n) nods slightly, giving him a smile, running her hands through Sans’s hair as he sat in between her legs. “I’m fine Sannie, just a little tired, it's 3:21am after all..” She responded softly, though her head was filling with the thoughts from earlier. But she didn’t have time to process what she was thinking, a soft moan leaving her body.

San had slipped two fingers into her core, and when (Y/N) went to look down at him she was met with a serious look, eyebrows furrowed and eyes unreadable.

“I don’t like it when you lie to me, baby. So I’m gonna give you till the count of three to tell me what’s wrong.” 

He warns, slowly pumping his fingers in and out, making (Y/n) shiver with delight and fear. (Y/n) averted her gaze as she tried to close her legs slightly, San roughly forced her legs open, growling softly at her, his grip on her thigh tight enough to start to leave a bruise.

“Oh? So you want to close your legs? You do not want to tell me what's wrong but you would rather do this?” He said, his tone stern yet concerned. He sighs before suddenly picking up the pace of his fingers, the pace being brutal and rough, leaving (Y/n) squirming and nearly crying out in pleasure. San watched with a sadistic smirk on his face, his pearly white teeth showing through. “See, You’re such a fucking slut. Taking my fingers so well, it’s like you’ve been preparing yourself for me. Ready for me to just utterly destroy you.” He says in such teasing way, watching as his fingers disappeared inside of her. “Since you wanted to be such a bad girl, I’ll treat you like one.”

(Y/n) could barely think straight, she was feeling a mixture of emotions all at once, she tried to speak but it all came out as disheveled moans. She could feel the coil in her stomach beginning to unravel, like a huge tidal wave preparing to come and crash onto land. She could feel herself tightening around his fingers, a tell tale sign that she was close to cumming.

Something that San just couldn’t allow.

San suddenly pulls his fingers out, making (Y/n) whine, finally being able to close her legs, but upset that the feeling was gone. The demon male gave a sickly smile as her places his fingers in his mouth, sucking, cleaning them of her juices, the taste making his eyes flash a quick fuscha before he stood up. Before (Y/n) knew it, she was in his arms being carried to the bedroom, her legs still quivering from the denied orgasm, but she knew the ‘worst’ had yet to come.

Once they reached her bedroom, San practically forces her on her stomach, and using one of her belts that he found on the floor, bounding her hands behind her back. San then walks over to the bed and takes two of her fluffy pillows and places them on the floor. He runs a hand along her back, trailing down before winding back and landing a harsh smack on her ass. One that earns both a cry and a moan from (Y/n) as she lay there helpless. San moves her from the bed to lay her head against the pillows that he set up on the floor, now having her face down ass up, ready for him.

(Y/n) could hear him undoing his pants and dropping them, kicking them somewhere off to the side of the room before getting behind her.

San leans down to place a kiss on her cheek, before speaking. “Do you remember out safeword Baby?~” He asks teasingly, (Y/n) blushed and nodded slightly. “I-it’s sunshine..” She mumbles softly, knowing that this was going to be a rough session since he was asking for the safe word.

‘

San hums in response as he prepares himself, lining up with her entrance, teasing and prodding at her entrance, making (Y/n) whine in response. San takes a deep breath before slowly entering her tight core, grunting at how tight and wet she was. “H-holy shit baby..you’re so tight, no matter how hard I can fuck you, you’ll always end up tight once more.” He grunts softly, setting a slow place to start with.

(Y/n) lets out a string of soft moans, loving the way that San stretched her out, making her feel full yet still needy and wanting more. She did not want this night to end, but she knew once San was done with her, he would clean her up, get her ready for bed and disappear into the night once more. Probably to go and get whatever poor female would be next. (Y/n) knew she shouldn’t be thinking about this at all, especially during San about drill her into next week. Her thoughts were cut off but a partially hard thrust that maid her cry out San’s name.

“When I calll you my favorite human. It’s because you are my only human (Y/n)” San says, setting a different pace, a devstatingly slow one but each thrust having so much power behind it that it makes her body scoot forward on the floor. “I can see your thoughts. I can hear them, and I’m hurt that you think I would fuck you senseless until you can barely speak then leave to go and find someone else.” He continues, (Y/n) only being able to moan in response as he suddenly picks up his speed, the thrusts becoming harsher and harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin slowly starting to fill the room.

“Do I have to prove to you that this pussy is the only one that I will stuff like this?”” San asks teasingly, “Show you that your the only little whore I’ll fuck until she can’t even remember her own name.” San’s grip on her hips was tight as he fucked into her, her core already tightening around his cock, making it hard for him to thrust in and out. (Y/n) could feel tears welling up in her eyes, ones pleasure began running down her cheeks, it felt so good to have San talk to her like this while giving her everything that she wanted.

San pulled on the belt that he had her hands binded with, bending down slightly, stilling for a little bit to undo the bounds. Once he does, he flips (Y/n) over on her back so he can look her in the face. (Y/n)’s eyes were watery, her lips were puffy and she was struggling to catch her lips, but still managed to look at him and give him a smirk of teasing. San returned it with one of his own before slowly picking back up his pace, getting back to the rough pace he had in only a few seconds. “Look at my cute little human whore~ Taking her demon’s cock like the little slut she is~” He says, moving one of his hands up to her neck to slightly squeeze it. He was practically fucking (Y/n) into the ground of her bedroom basking in the moans that she released, He knew that she was the only one who would moan for him like this. She was the only who he felt genuine joy with, someone that could match his personality very well. So to see her moaning at his mercy while driving his dick into her pussy was a sight San wishes that he could save.

(Y/n)'s mouth was hanging open, nothing but moans leaving her, she couldn’t think of anything except for one thing that was on her mind. “I-i Love you San~” She moaned out, closing her eyes so that she didn't see his reaction. But she could feel his reaction, she could feel him throbbing inside of her as his pace was damn near inhuman, San had a death grip on her hips, he was ravaging her but (Y/n) was far to deep in pleasure to notice San’s complete reaction.

 San lifted (Y/n)’s legs to her check to change the angle, hearing a sharp moan leave said girl. “Fuck, I love you too (Y/n). I’m not going to ever leave again, not with how tight you’re gripping me now.” He growled out, he could feel himself getting close as well, but he wanted to send her over the edge first before he did what he wanted. (Y/n) pulled San down to lock lips with him, having a small tongue fight for dominance before she lets’s San take the reigns. He nibbled on her bottom lip before whispering into their kiss. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so full of my cum until you can’t hold anymore, Your little pussy is going to be red and puffy once i’m done” He says smugly as he continues to pound away, hearing the soft squelching, skin slapping and being turned on more than ever.

“You’re going to take my cum, and keep it in you once I’m done. You’re going to be filled with my babies and unable to move at all” (Y/n) nods, not thinking straight at all, her head just full of San and his filthy words. But she could feel herself getting close, she could feel the intense feeling coiling in her stomach and getting ready to burst.

When (y/n) cried out, her orgasm hit her like a truck, she could feel herself unravel around San’s cock, squirming and moving as San kept going at this brutal pace, but she could tell by how he was thrusting that he was getting close himself. San gave three more brutal yet sloppy thrusts before spilling himself into  (Y/n), painting her walls white, his face looking just as fucked out as she was.  He ran a hand down (Y/n)’s face before slowly pulling out of her, watching her juices and his cum mixed together and slightly seeped out.

San smirks as he backs up and picks up (Y/n), putting her in the bed, crawling in after her. (Y/n) was tired but still managed to get her words out. “A-are you staying?..” She asked, holding onto said male. San smirks and places a kiss on her cheek before pulling the covers over them, pulling her against him. “Of course, you can’t get ride of this demon that fast~” He teased only to get a smack on the arm from (Y/n). She snuggles into San’s side as she could feel sleep creeping up on her.

San smiles as he rubs her back gently, watching her slowly seep into sleep.He could feel his inhuman heart flutter at how cute she was, gently holding her into his chest until she finally fell asleep.

“Go ahead and sleep, I’ll clean you up in the morning~ Sweet dreams my lovely human~”

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^~* I dont really write smuts but I hope you like it~!

[arts-and-drafts]

Come Morning Light (Part 9)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight

(In which Tommy finally breaks, and his admin is there to help. This is a pretty big chapter in terms of Tommy's upcoming arc!! I'm pretty excited for this one :] Mind the TWs, there's a LOT of angst)

CW: Violence mention, LOTS of death mentions, self harm (minor), abuse mentions, unprocessed grief

-

This fucking sucked.

Tommy was outside when False respawned, but he wasn't far enough to escape her gut-wrenching gasp as she came back to life after falling to Dream's blade. It was a sensation Tommy knew intimately, a feeling that he would never forget.

Dream beat False. Because of fucking course he did. Tommy knew he asked everyone to intentionally not kill Dream, but it still stung viciously to see that message in chat. Seeing False's name before Dream's in that manner of message made bile rise in Tommy's throat.

He couldn't face any of the hermits he asked to die for him, hence why he was outside his old repurposed doghouse Joe lent him at the very beginning, where every remaining hermit set their spawn on his old bed. He couldn't bear to look them in the eye and tend to them after sending them to this fate in the first place.

Tommy wasn't used to feeling like this. He wasn't used to caring for other people so much that it hurt when they died for him. Back on the SMP, Tubbo was the only one left that got close enough to Tommy's heart for it to hurt when he was gone, and there was no way in End that Tommy would let Tubbo take any sort of bullet for him again. Tubbo was all Tommy had now, and he would rather die his final death than lose him.

Thinking about Tubbo made Tommy's chest constrict painfully, so he shut down that line of thinking. Or at least, he tried. His mind was never good at listening to him.

Instead of thinking of something else, Tommy's mind wouldn't stop circulating around Tubbo. There was always a hole in his chest where Tubbo used to be since he'd come here, and it hurt more than anything physical that had ever happened to him, which was certainly saying something.

For a horrifying second, a voice in his head spoke up.

If you go with Dream, you'll see him again, you know.

Tommy shot to his feet, shaking his head until he was dizzy and then bopped his fists against his skull just to hammer the point home. No, no, a fucking THOUSAND times, no. He'd rather die. He would.

So why was his brain circling around that now?!

He needed to go mining. He needed to dig a big hole and forget everything else. Tommy's fingers itched to summon his pickaxe, but logic stopped him. He had to stay here, he had to lure Dream to him. He had to be the bait or everyone else would die.

FUCK.

Tommy jumped a foot in the air when he suddenly sensed someone walking up to him. He whirled around to see Xisuma, of all people, holding up his hands in surrender as if he couldn't take a scrawny kid that was at least three feet shorter than him.

Tommy lowered his axe and scowled. "What."

A mistake. Xisuma raised an eyebrow underneath his visor, and Tommy knew he was in for it.

"Hey, cool it, kiddo. I'm just coming to check on ya." Xisuma said. Tommy never had a parent, but he would bet diamonds that they would sound just like this. "How are you?"

Tommy barked an incredulous laugh with no humor behind it. "Are you fuckin' serious?"

"Watch the language," said Xisuma, on instinct. Tommy's chest tightened more.

"Don't start with that shit!" Tommy stood to his full height, jabbing a finger at the admin he was supposed to fear. "This is the second worst day of my fucking life! I can swear all I fucking want!!"

"Okay!" Xisuma exclaimed, exasperation on his face of all things. He gently put a massive hand over Tommy's, lowering it from his chest. "Okay. That's fine. You can swear, Tommy, I'm sorry."

And now Tommy felt like the asshole. He opted to sniff haughtily at the admin and pulled away from Xisuma's touch to cross his arms. "That's what I fuckin' thought."

He didn't like the way Xisuma was looking at him. He looked like Bad when he pinched his eyebrows like that, almost the exact same way the demon used to do when he noticed something was up with Tommy and he was trying to play it off.

Why was everything reminding him of the SMP? Why couldn't he just leave it in the past? Why wouldn't it let him heal? Why did it haunt him everywhere he looked? He thought he was finally getting better--and then of fucking course Dream turned up to ruin it.

"Hey," Xisuma said gently, and Tommy blinked back to the current situation. Xisuma was close, but not touching him. The admin wasn't sure where they were in regards to that, and Tommy would've been lying if he said he didn't appreciate the caution. It made him feel respected.

"You're in the anger part, huh?" Xisuma asked, making Tommy blink. "What's that mean?"

"The stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance." Xisuma rattled off, nearly losing Tommy's attention in one sentence. "Dream invaded us. I'd think you a madman if you weren't doing pretty bad right now."

Tommy sucked in a shaky breath, his anger wavering. He wanted to hold on to it, because when he was angry he didn't have to feel scared and sad. He had to harness that anger to fight Dream.

Wilbur's voice echoed sharply in his head. 'Tommy, calm.'

Fuck, he missed Wilbur.

"Oh, Tommy." Xisuma murmured, and with a start the boy realized tears had started to fall yet again. Tommy hurriedly scrubbed them away.

He was so sick of being hurt all by himself. He was so exhausted from keeping memories to himself. He was so tired of missing.

He was so, so tired.

"This has happened before." Tommy croaked, struck with a sudden honesty. Xisuma didn't move, and whether or not the information surprised him remained unknown to Tommy. He still decided to continue.

"Back home, it...I was part of a revolution." Tommy said. The words were foreign on his tongue. Wilbur was always the one telling this story.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut.

"Dream was--he wasn't so bad, back then. But we still wanted to be free." Tommy recounted. "So we made L'manburg. Our own nation, free from tyranny." He parroted. Xisuma thankfully stayed quiet as he wiped away more tears.

"And we fought. We fought really hard. And we lost. I lost." Tommy sniffled, his hand twitching towards the scar in his abdomen. "I lost the duel."

Tommy took a breath. "But then I clutched with my disks and we were free. But Dream fuckin' hated our guts after that, and--"

Tommy caved in on himself, covering his face with his hands.

"He took everything from me. Everything I ever-"

Tommy swallowed a sob, his chest raw after finally letting out what was killing him inside. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and stared at the ground, anger and hurt swirling inside him.

"...So of course I'm doing fuckin' bad, Xisuma." Tommy uttered bitterly. "Everyone's in danger and it's all my fuckin' fault. Again."

"If it's anyone's fault, it's Dream's." Xisuma finally spoke, a new iron in his voice that made Tommy meet his eyes. "You are the victim, Tommy. You came here for asylum. Dream chose to pursue you here. It was always Dream's fault."

Xisuma kneeled again, his purple eyes wide and earnest. "And I promise you, it will come to an end. I'll do what I need to, Tommy. We'll stop him."

And here was the admin of the server Tommy invaded, literally lowering himself to the boy that put his people in danger. Here was the admin of the server Tommy doomed, promising that he'd take down the monster Tommy brought to his doorstep.

Tommy learned a long time ago to trust promises with a grain of sand.

"I want to be alone, please." He said, his voice very small against his will.

Xisuma blinked, as if he didn't expect that reaction, but his eyes remained even as he stood back up. "Of course, bud. I'll be right inside if you need me."

The admin turned to go back into the doghouse, and Tommy watched him go.

And then they both froze in place as they noticed the night sky glowing red.

The acrid smell of smoke choked Tommy's senses, and it took everything inside of him to push back the rapidly gaining fog in his mind. He blinked, taking a step back.

"I-I thought fire didn't spread here!" Tommy stammered, his gaze latched onto embers that were beginning to reach the stars from the direction of the shopping district.

Tommy wrenched his eyes away from the scene to the admin, desperate for an explanation, but Xisuma was so still that he could've been an armor stand.

"...It doesn't."

[youshouldhavepaidattentiondad]

Loved Sweetly: Chapter 5

Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

-

As they pull into the parking lot of Lakeside Mall, Sam catches the look of apprehension and confusion on Trent’s face in the rearview mirror.. 

“What is this place?” Trent asks as Sam parks the car.

“The… mall. You never been to the mall before, kid?” Sam asks with a small frown.

Trent shakes his head. “No. What is it?” he asks curiously as he peers through the window. “And why are there so many people here?”

Charlotte and Sam glance at each other. “Well… there’s different stores all in one place,” Charlotte explains, “Department stores, places to buy clothes, shoes-”

“Really?” Trent looks at her in disbelief. “People have to leave their homes to buy clothes? Mrs. Monroe had designers come to our house to fit us for clothes.”

“...why did you call her Mrs. Monroe?” Charlotte asks curiously.

“Cause she told me I had to after I wouldn’t stick a fork in an electric outlet.” Trent shrugs as if this is completely normal. “So why are we here?”

Sam shrugs helplessly at Charlotte’s aghast expression. “Well, thought you might need some more things, kiddo. What all did you pack?”

“...my Switch,” Trent admits quietly, “And a suit. I didn’t know why Da- Gerald was telling me to pack. I just thought I could get whatever else I needed later… I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay,” Charlotte assures him, “We can get you some new clothes. I’m sure we can find some places with some good sales going on-”

Trent blinks. “Sails? Is there a boating store here?”

“No, sweetie, sales. S-A-L-E-S,” Charlotte explains, her voice straining slightly as she tries to keep the exasperation out of it. “It’s when stores sell their products at less than their normal price.”

The idea seems to flabbergast Trent. “Really?” He turns to look out the window at the mall again. “...can we go in now?”

“Sounds like a good plan, kiddo,” Sam says as he and Charlotte both undo their seatbelts.

The walk across the parking lot almost feels like a stroll through a minefield. Trent seems amazed by every little thing. When they walk into the mall’s atrium,  with some cheesy pop song playing over the speakers, he stares at the storefront. “Wow.”

“It’s a lot,” Charlotte says encouragingly. “Do you see any stores you want to go in?”

Trent shakes his head, gravitating to her side again as they begin walking through the crowds to venture deeper into the mall. He keeps looking around like a deer in the headlights, flinching slightly at the sound of a younger child shrieking in joy at the Play Place.

“Not used to the noise?” Sam guesses.

“No,” Trent says almost grumpily, “Just anyone can come here anytime? It’s not exclusive or anything?”

Charlotte shakes her head. “Nope. Open to the public when it’s open,” she explains.

They pass a kiosk selling sunglasses and Sam slows down when he sees a pair almost identical to the ones he’s wearing. “Hey Trent,” he calls as he approaches the stand. He slides the glasses off the display and holds them up for Trent to see. “Interested?”

He watches as Trent fights the urge to smile at the sight. “Maybe?” He walks over to Sam and takes the aviators from him and slides them on. He examines his reflection in the mirror on the kiosk. “Do I look cooler than you?”

“By miles,” Sam tells him with a chuckle. He gets the attention of the bored teen running the stand and pays for the sunglasses.

Trent doesn’t quite bounce back over to Charlotte, but there’s a definite pep in his step that wasn’t there before. Sam grins to himself before he goes over to rejoin them. “So where are we starting?”

“Let’s see what Old Navy has,” Charlotte suggests.

The next few hours seem to go by in a whirl. Helping Trent figure out what sizes he wears (“What do you mean the M stands for Medium?”), to reassuring him they’re not supposed to tip the fitting room clerk (“But they’re poor right? That’s why they work here right?”), and explaining to him that the clothes are mass produced (“You mean I could end up wearing the same thing as somebody else?!”).

By the end of it, they’re all carrying a few bags each, walking back through the mall’s atrium to the front doors. Trent’s eyes are hidden by his sunglasses, but Sam can see him fighting not to beam as they walk.

As they approach the doors though, Sam catches sight of Ted Spankoffski and his younger brother.

“Oh, Sam, you two go ahead,” Charlotte says, suddenly looking flustered.

Gritting his teeth, Sam keeps walking, very pointedly not looking at Ted. Not that the other man can tell. Mirrored sunglasses and all that.

Trent frowns, glancing behind them at Charlotte as she approaches the man, who sends the teenager with him away so he can talk to her. “Who’s that?”

“Ted,” Sam answers shortly, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He doesn’t seem to do a great job, since he sees Trent shrink a little bit. “He’s one of Charlotte’s coworkers,” he tries again, his voice a little more level.

“You don’t like him,” Trent guesses as they walk out of the atrium and back to the parking lot.

Silently, Sam counts back from five. “It’s… it’s complicated, kid.”

“Like the lady from the pageant who broke up with you?” Trent asks, “That sort of complicated?”

“... we don’t need to talk about that,” Sam says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose to keep them in place.

When they reach the car, they load the bags in the trunk of the car, along with Trent’s suitcase. 

Surprisingly, Charlotte doesn’t take long. She comes hurrying out of the mall with the rest of the bags, her cheeks flushed slightly. “We all ready?” she asks as she sets the bags in the trunk with the others.

“Yeah,” Sam says somewhat flatly. Today had been such a whirlwind, he almost forgot how things really are. He pulls open the driver’s side door and climbs in, waiting for the other two to follow suit.

Once everyone is buckled up, he turns on the radio and heads for the house.