#you have to see my vision for c!niki and that she was like. everything at school. you know what i'm talking about.

[simplepotatofarmer]

watched the prison break stream, made some alignment memes

[unfoundhoney]

mother, father, and everything else ↠

↠ platonic!c!tommyinnit x older sister!reader ; fluff , angst

↠ masterlist

↠ a companion piece to a sister’s sacrifice inspired by this tiktok

“Tommy, come on,” you call.

You pull your youngest brother’s attention away from the strings of the apron he got distracted by. He toddles over to you as quickly as he can, reaching up and asking to be picked up silently. He started walking early and go the hang of it quite quickly. However, in talking he’s a bit of a late bloomer, nearing fifteen months but yet to say his first words.

You lift Tommy up into your arms, carrying him out the back door and into the backyard. You set him down to play in the grass where you can keep an eye on him then walk over to the array of clotheslines strung up across the yard, beginning to hang up laundry.

Wilbur is off playing with Niki as usual. He’ll likely return covered in dirt and grass stains, maybe with a captured insect or stories of a new, made up kingdom he’d been ruler of that day. Phil is still out with Techno; they’ve been gone for a while now, but that’s nothing new.

You’ve hung up a pair of Wilbur’s pants and two of Tommy’s shirts when you notice Tommy crouched beside the basket full of wet clothes. He reaches inside and pulls out a sock, squeezing it curiously.

“Do you want to help, Tommy?”

Tommy looks up at you, blue eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He nods his head once.

You giggle and ruffle his hair, “Alright, c’mere.”

You lift Tommy up again, resting him on your hip as you grab a clothespin with your free hand. You slip it over the clothesline.

“Put the top of the sock in the pin,” you tell him.

He struggles a bit, little hands still uncoordinated at his young age. He does eventually position the sock where you can close the pin on it and leave it to hang.

“Wow, good job, buddy!” you say.

You wrap him in a hug and spin around, shrieking laughter falling from his mouth at both your actions and your praise. You set him down and kneel down to be at eye level with him.

“You’re my official laundry assistant,” you say seriously. “Can you hand me clothes to hang up?”

Tommy nods eagerly and toddles over to the basket of wet clothes, grabbing a shirt from the top of the pile. He holds it above his head as he runs back over to you, holding it out.

“Good job, Tommy! We’re quite the team, you and I.”

Together, you and Tommy slowly hang the rest of the clothes up. Tommy eventually gets bored and goes off to pick dandelions and pull off their petals, leaving you to finish the chore, not that you mind. When you’re finished, you call Tommy over to get in the basket, carrying him and the leftover clothespin back inside.

“Y/N!”

The call of your name pulls you to a stop, turning to see who yelled for you. Tommy grabs onto your pant leg for balance, stopping as well. You find Puffy waving at you, hurrying over to you with her little boy Dream at her side.

“Hi, Puffy,” you say. “Hi, Dream.”

“Hi,” Dream says in a small voice.

“Tommy, can you say hi?” you ask the young boy clinging to your hand.

He’s chewing on his thumbnail, looking up at Puffy warily before hiding his face in your leg.

“Guess not,” you laugh.

“How are you, Y/N? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Puffy says.

“I’m good,” you answer. “Just getting some dinner for tonight.”

“Still the household cook, I see.”

“And just about everything else.”

You laugh and Puffy joins you, but you can tell that wasn’t a joke that went over her head. It’s no joke that you are mother and father to your younger siblings, as well as everything else. Your dad is gone too often; Wilbur doesn’t even call your father “dad,” he calls him Phil.

“Where’s your dad?” Puffy asks.

You shrug, “Around.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

You hesitate for too long, distracted as you attempt to remember the last time Phil came home.

“That hardly matters,” you brush off, “He’s busy doing important stuff and I can look after Wilbur and Tommy myself anyway.”

The look of concern on Puffy’s face is not missed by you. You do, however, elect to ignore it.

Dream tugs on Puffy’s sleeve, “Mom.”

“Yeah, buddy?” Puffy asks, leaning down.

Dream points into the market, where you see Sapnap with his father and his friend George.

“Go say hi, but don’t wander too far,” Puffy tells Dream.

When she turns back to you, keeping one eye on her son, you say, “I’ve gotta head home. Need to make dinner and all that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Puffy says. “I’m here if you ever need help. Or someone to talk to. Or... anything really.”

“Thanks, Puffy.”

You don’t notice at your side, Tommy trying to form the word that Dream used that so quickly got his mother’s attention.

“Look after yourself, Y/N.”

“I am.” You always have.

With a wave, you turn and head back home, Tommy walking slowly beside you. The walk from the market to your house takes about fifteen minutes and you end up carrying Tommy for most of it to speed things up.

When you arrive home, you find Wilbur and Niki sat in the front yard playing a hand clapping game. They stop when they spot you, jumping up and running to come meet you as you walk up the front path.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Wilbur shouts your names repeatedly.

“Will! Will! Will!” you mimic.

“Can I spend the night at Niki’s?” Wilbur asks.

You like Niki. She’s sweet and a good influence for Wilbur.

“Uhm, as long as her parents are alright with it,” you say, doing your best to sound like a grown up despite only being sixteen.

“We’ve already talked to them,” Niki tells you.

“Alright, then,” you concede. “Behave while you’re there.”

“I will, Y/N!” Wilbur says, running off with Niki.

You watch them go for a few moments until you’re reminded of the toddler sitting on your hip. Tommy squirms around, wanting down. You set him on the ground and walk with him inside.

You set him up with some paper and crayons at the kitchen table. You sit across from him, watching as he carefully looks over his color options before choosing the red crayon.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, bud,” you muse.

You pet Tommy’s hair before you stand, moving to start on dinner. You season meat and chop potatoes, humming to yourself and keeping an eye on Tommy. Thankfully, your youngest brother isn’t a picky eater, which makes meals a lot easier than they could be, especially since he’s been in the solid foods stage for a while now.

The rest of the night is fairly quiet. You and Tommy eat dinner then you do the dishes while he waddles around the living room and plays with some of his toys. You can hear him experimenting with running, his footfalls surprisingly loud for such a small human. You hear him fall, as well, but without any crying then the return of his heavy footsteps, you don’t go to check on him.

You start composing your next shopping list and check the calendar for any upcoming events. There’s a festival next week that you’re meant to chaperone Wilbur and his friends at. Maybe you can team up with Puffy so Tommy can play with Tubbo, and Dream can join Wilbur. You’ll ask her tomorrow.

You hear Tommy enter the kitchen. He waddles over to where you sit at the table and crawls into your lap. He grabs your free hand and starts playing with your fingers as you continue writing down what you’ll need for your bigger grocery run in a few days.

“Mom.”

You freeze.

What?

“Mom.”

You look down at Tommy.

He looks up at you, “Mom.”

“N-No...,” you say weakly.

“Mom.”

“No, I’m not your mom.”

“Mom.”

“No...”

“Mom!” Tommy says happily. “Mom mom mom!”

“Okay, okay,” you say shakily, putting a hand gently over your little brother’s mouth to get him to stop. “Okay, good job.”

Your vision’s blurry. You want to cry. Your chest hurts. But right now, Tommy’s said his first word.

“Good job,” you repeat.

You pull Tommy into a hug and wipe at your eyes behind his back.

Tommy rests his little cheek on your shoulder, already tired but quickly drifting off to sleep in your warm embrace, “Mom...”

“Shhh,” you say, voice weak.

Tommy goes limp, asleep in your arms. As your tears begin to fall, you make sure not to let your sobs move you. How has this happened? Mom. No. You’re not a mother. Except you are. In every way that matters, you are Tommy’s mother. You’ve raised him ever since Phil brought him home that day.

You wish your family was normal. As normal as a family of four adopted children, a single father, and a non-biological uncle could be. You wish your dad was home more. You wish you didn’t have to be the only parental figure Tommy has ever known. It’s to the point he calls you mom. How could Phil let it get to this? How could he care so little?

You just want to have a normal family with parents who are adults and kids who are allowed to be children. You did not get to be a child, but Wilbur and Tommy will. You will always be there for them. You promise. You will give them what you had taken from you. Hatred for your father burns in your chest but it’s quickly snuffed out, doused by nostalgia that longs for a childhood you never had.

[emo-and-confused]

Burning Hill- c!Niki Songfic (Mitski)

Today I will wear my white button-down

Niki throws on her apron, tying a neat bow in the back. She preheats the oven, and starts kneading the dough. It’s familiar, the going through the movements of pressing down and folding, pressing down and folding, pressing down and folding, pressing down and-

I'm tired of wanting more

She sighs. She remembers when it was her and her bakery, when that’s where she grounded sugar kneaded dough. But.. she burned that down. She burned her bakery down. She burned her bakery down because she had to burn the memories, as New L’manberg burned with it. So now she kneads the dough in her city, hidden away underground.

I think I'm finally worn

Her hands don’t get tired, even after kneading for minutes upon minutes. Her hands don’t start to cramp, they don’t start to slow down. They don’t get tired, but the weight of exhaustion settles in her bones. She’s been tired for a long time. Tired of the fighting, of the rebellion, of wanting more. She doesn’t regret most things, her actions and decisions formed her into who she currently is, both good and bad. They gave her strength and muscles, but also exhaustion and scars. They gave her bravery, but also fear.

She’s had to hold on hard to her kindness, but every so often she can feel it slip through her fingers, like a handful of sand that drains through the gaps.

She works at the dough, adding more flour to her work space.

For you have a way of promising things

Things were never easy, were they? She believed in L’manberg, believed in the vision her friends- her past friends saw. It was everything, and it was going far. But they wished for too much. And Wilbur flew too close to the sun.

And I've been a forest fire

Sometimes she burns. Like the tree she burned down on Doomsday. Techno, Phil, and Dream may have blown up the country, but she burned down the heart of it. They couldn’t rebuild if L’mantree was gone. Their values, their memories, their friendships. Maybe it really was never meant to be, if a single tree burning down made everyone lose any grain of hope they had left.

I am a forest fire

So sometimes she burns, like the memories, like the bakery. Like the tree and like L’manberg. Like the forests, like the sun. She burns like fire, and she burns like ice. Her arms burn when she remembers the fire, and her heart burns when she remembers the hope.

And I am the fire and I am the forest

And I am a witness watching it

She had told Tommy and Tubbo, looking out at the sunset, that they needed L’manberg back. “We will figure something out. As long as we stick together,” she had told them.

They didn’t stick together, though, did they? Tubbo went off and built himself a commune, armed with nukes to protect those he cares about from those more physically powerful. And… she and Jack tried to kill Tommy. They didn’t stick together. They had grown apart far before Doomsday, but the destruction of the country— burned so far down to bedrock, blown up and demolished beyond the point of rebuilding— that’s what caused her to snap, isn’t it? Seeing.. seeing ghostbur, who no one had the decency to tell her about, at the time in her life where she burns down the heart of her country, where she watches her home get leveled, that set her off. So she burned the memories, and tried to burn Tommy.

She hasn’t gone after him in a while. It’s been… well she hasn’t been keeping track of time. She thinks she’s done with that. She might not regret most things, but she can figure out when she’s wrong, when she’s made a mistake. Tommy… Tommy’s death will not be her fault. If he can even die.

She might be over-kneading the dough, she realizes. She looks down, seeing the dough so flat and stuck to the countertop. Rolling her eyes, she goes to the fridge to grab the other half of the dough, and adds it to the flattened handful. She can fix this, she’s not an amateur.

I stand in a valley watching it

And so her hands start working again. Kneading and pressing and folding and-

Who’s fault is this really? Is she merely a witness to the wreckage or is this her fault too?

She… she saw the TNT that day. She mined the block, ready to tear the stage down, and she saw it. Explosives, dozens upon dozens, stacked and spread throughout the country. She didn’t know how much at first, but she found out. She trusted Wilbur.

And you are not there at all

Big mistake that turned out to be. Because he blew up the country, and then he died. He asked for death. He.. he left her.

So today I will wear my white button-down

Her apron strings start to fall, so she wipes her flower covered hands on the dish towel next to her and fixes the knot.

I can at least be neat

The dough is done, and the oven has long since beeped to signal it’s been heated to the correct temperature. She lays the dough in the pan, and puts it in the oven. She cleans her workspace, and then leaves the kitchen to braid her hair away from the food. She doesn’t have enough hair to put it all in a braid, but the half up ponytail is beginning to loosen so she braids it back, keeping the hair out of her face.

Walk out and be seen as clean

She hears Jack enter her city, she can tell by his footsteps who it is. Her friend, come to see her, or come to team up. She secures the elastic in her hair.

And I'll go to work and I'll go to sleep

She heads out to meet him, and hears his voice when he’s not too far away. He’s upset, and he wants to plot again. She’s tired.

And I'll love the littler things

He might be her friend, but Niki knows Jack doesn’t truly understand. She’s trying to heal. She’s trying to get better, instead of starving herself and throwing herself off of high elevations in order to regenerate health. She’s trying, she really is. She joined Techno and his group of anarchists. She’s got more friends now, and she’s got a place to belong again. She’s trying.

I'll love some littler things

So she tells Jack she doesn’t want to keep attacking Tommy, and he lashes out. He yells and he threatens to kill the chickens and the cows; and even if he doesn’t understand her, she understands him. She really does. And when he asks what she’s going to do when someone comes in and threatens her, when someone comes in and steals and kills and-

“I don’t know Jack.. I- I don’t know.. I..”

-and all she can do is gesture to a loaf of bread she made yesterday.

“I started baking again.”

[pandoraborn]

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 16

( previous. )

-----

Characters: c!Puffy, c!Phil, c!Techno, c!Dream Word count: 1776 Content: blood, violence, mention of war, brief family reunion, major character death, grief

-----

Puffy scours the ‘battlefield’. There are already explosions being set off around her, with buildings being destroyed. In the days between Quackity finding Tommy and now, she has to wonder if they’d snuck back to plant more TNT.

Or had they come beforehand?

Around her, people are screaming and running. People she wouldn’t normally give a second glance to, but she recognizes a few of them, in varying states of panic and anger. Niki goes flying past her with an iron sword, and Hbomb is following behind, shouting for everyone to follow him.

Puffy considers joining the pair, but she marches along the prime path, wincing at every explosion happening nearby. She doesn’t know where Tubbo or Quackity are, and she has no idea where Sam went. 

Puffy hopes her friends are safe.

The dragon is a lot closer now, and Puffy’s starting to realize how big it actually is. Dread pools in her stomach, causing her to stop and stare up at the sky. Everything else is background noise for a split second, as all she can see are those menacing purple eyes, and the purple fog that the dragon breathes out.

When someone jostles her, Puffy lurches forward and turns to see who is next to her. It’s Phil. Phil’s already armed with a sword, though he’s using his hand to push her back.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Puffy,” Phil says. “But that dragon doesn’t discriminate.”

Reaching into her inventory, Puffy immediate dons her armor. It’s all iron, as she hadn’t had a chance to craft netherite yet. She keeps her gaze on Phil though, watching every movement.

Her sword though, that’s made of netherite. Pulling that out next, Puffy lifts her sword, pointing the tip in his direction while also stepping back. “I’m not running,” she insists. “You’re all insane, you know that?”

Phil merely grins. “I was trying to give you a chance,” he responds. “I’m more than happy to cause chaos. Done it before, doing it again.”

“Haven’t you done enough damage?” Puffy asks. “The last time you caused this much damage, we lost an entire country. Your son built that!”

“My son?” Phil tilts his head to the side, letting a brief silence settle over them. “Correct my memory here if I’m mistaken. You were there at the prison the day Dream broke out, right? Tommy and Ranboo both said everyone was there.”

“Do not talk to me about Tommy!” Puffy snaps. “You all hurt him, over and over again!”

“Were you or were you not there?”

“I want you all to take your dragon and leave us alone,” Puffy says stubbornly. “We did nothing to you.”

“Anyway.” He’s speaking as if she hadn’t said anything. “You all watched Wilbur exit the prison. Wil, who worked with Dream long before his death, long before the revolution. They were apparently in cahoots when Pogtopia was operational. This wasn’t my idea.”

“You can’t blame Wilbur for that,” Puffy snaps. “He wasn’t in his right mind! He needed help and no one was-”

She cuts herself off there. Something is shifting into place in her mind, and she doesn’t like what conclusion she’s reaching. Rather than dwell on it, she drops her sword and attempts to do something she probably shouldn’t:

She lunges for Phil with her fist. She should have remembered that Phil is far older than her, with far more practice, and far more allies on his side that the last time he set off explosives. He’s side stepping her, and within a blink, he’d moved behind her, twisting her arm behind her back.

Struggling against his grip, Puffy starts swearing loudly. “Let me go! I swear I won’t hesitate to kill you!”

“You really think you can kill him with your bare hands?” That voice isn’t Phil’s, it’s Techno’s. He steps within her line of sight, smiling wildly. He looks wild, eyes far too wide, smile too big with too many teeth showing. This is clearly his idea of a fun time, and Puffy nearly recoils.

“I can sure as hell try,” she mutters through clenched teeth. “After what all of you did to Tommy, I’d love to see all of you burn in your own dragon’s magic breath.”

Techno starts laughing. “You think Tommy was being held against his will or we dragged him here kicking and screaming?”

Puffy wants to hold onto the mental image of Tommy. Sweet, obnoxious Tommy who always had a witty retort ready and a fire in his eyes. She wants to still hold out hope that Tommy will return to her. Them.

“This was Tommy’s idea,” Techno continues. “ See, he was pissed about Quackity shooting him with an arrow. Sure, it was an accident, but you know what they say about a broken person with nothing left to lose.”

She doesn’t want to hear any more. This is slander. Techno had always hated Tommy, she’s sure of it. Rather than lash out verbally, Puffy kicks her leg up, hoping to hit Techno right in the jaw. She wants to see him stagger back in pain.

Unfortunately, a third hand grabs at her leg and holds it in place. Techno backs up, still grinning wildly, though now he’s staring at the newcomer. With a frustrated scream, she tries to wretch her leg from the person’s grasp, only for them to squeeze her ankle hard enough to almost hurt.

“Hello Mother Duck,” comes the voice. This stops Puffy. Going limp against Phil, she stares out at the person attached to the hand. It’s Dream. He’s wearing his usual outfit; the bright green shirt, black pants, and instead of wearing his mask properly, it’s resting against the side of his head.

“Dream,” she says softly. “Dream, what have you done?” Tears fill her eyes. This is the first time she’s seen him since...since before Tommy was released from exile. She had thought she moved past him, but seeing him now brings tears to her eyes.

“Is it cool if I call you mom?” he asks. “I know that we’re not officially family, but you did kind of adopt me. I wanted to check up on things.” Dream’s wearing a more serene smile. He doesn’t look like a maniacal villain, he looks like her duckling: peaceful, happy, and calm.

For a second, Puffy almost believes. She can almost believe that the world around her isn’t going up in flames, and that there isn’t a dragon attacking the SMP. Right now, it’s just a mother duck and her duckling, reuniting at last.

“What have you done?” Her voice sounds foreign to her own ears, filled with despair. The world comes back into focus, and behind her, she can hear someone scream.

“What I should have done ages ago,” Dream says casually. Bending down, he picks up her sword. “The problem wasn’t L’Manburg.” Dream scoffs. “The problem wasn’t the countries or the buildings or even Tommy. Tommy wasn’t the one who brought attachments, all of you did. All of you were so selfish about everything. From buildings to random items, even pets. It became a cluster fuck of everyone blaming everyone else, and people kept getting forgotten or left behind.”

“You messed up the most!” Phil’s grip on her loosens enough for her to straighten up. Puffy wants nothing more than to take Dream into her arms and hold him close. She also wants to drive a sword through her stomach. “You hurt the most people, you have to pay!”

“Believe me, Mother Duck, I am paying. I’ve been paying for it, and I’ve decided I’m tired of paying for it. Which is why we’re here.”

“I’m going to stop you,” she replies flatly. “It’s my duty.”

“It was your duty to protect people, and you did a lousy job at that.” Dream spins the sword in his hands. “Believe me when I say I do love you. For a brief time, we had a happy family, until you replaced me with Foolish.”

Her blood chills. “Don’t touch Foolish.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Everyone’s going to suffer, he’s not special.” Dream continues to wear that same smile, almost matching the mask he’s wearing. “But sometimes things have to be done a certain way in order to achieve our goals. You of all people know that.”

“Dream...” She’s pleading with him now. Begging for him to come back, begging for him to instruct Phil to let her go. She almost misses that Techno had already left somewhere during this conversation.

“I’ll tell Tommy you thought off him. Phil, step back.”

The pressure on her immediately leaves. Nearly falling back, Puffy stumbles to keep her balance before facing Dream again, arms dangling at her sides. She’s confused on what Dream meant, in regards to Phil, but the answer-

-oh.

She has on diamond armor. It’s meant to protect her, it’s meant to help her when there’s danger nearby. But somehow, Dream had managed to find the cracks in the armor, the tiny little exposures. It was enough that he rammed her own sword through her stomach.

Puffy stares down, unable to talk. She’s unable to comprehend why she’s bleeding, but feels no pain. Confusion blots out all coherent thought, and instead, stares at her duckling.

Is it her imagination, or is Dream crying? Are those tears streaming down his face, or are they tears blurring her own vision?

It doesn’t matter, anymore.

When he yanks the sword back, she falls forward. Puffy’s jumbled thoughts are of the people she’s come to love: Foolish, Bad, Tommy, Eret. Sam. They all held a special meaning to her, and were all lovely people.

Niki. She’d cared for Niki in a special kind of way. More intimate, even if toward the end they barely spoke. She’d miss seeing Niki’s smile.

And Dream...

Dream’s arms around her, catching her fall. His arms slowly lowering her to the ground, his arms cradling her, wiping blood from her mouth.

“Duckling...” Puffy tries to reach for him, but she’s so, so tired now. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It didn’t really hurt to begin with. Dream’s holding her and crying, and Phil’s somewhere to the right of Dream.

“I’ll see you soon,” Dream says gently. He kisses her forehead, and then leaves her. She’s laying on the cold ground and watches as he and Phil walk away.

With the remaining strength she has left, Puffy turns her gaze to the sky, just in time to see the dragon fly overhead. The dragon breathes down on her, encasing her with the most beautiful purple haze she’d ever seen. The last thing she’ll ever see.

And the war rages on.