Bim has slowly slipped his way into depression after everything that's happened. He's never felt so alone after all that's happened. The happiest he finds himself is the small moments after he wakes up (after barely a few hours sleep) when he's forgotten that Silver's gone.
His current aim is to keep it from the others. They've all got their own things going on, no need to burden them with his bullshit
Tag List: @frostymooncosplay @risiskifi @aurum-coloured-ink @madhare0512 @phantomshellreapers
Summary: The problem may have been fixed but things will never be the same. Trust is a luxury very few can afford, while dangers and demons lurk around every corner. Ignorance will protect no one, and the stakes have never been higher.
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Bim sits at the desk in his office, Wilford’s latest script clutched in his fingers while his other hand is running down the side of his face. Bim is the only person Wilford trusts to read his ideas and while it’s never dull, it sure can make you ask questions you never thought you’d ask.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” He knows it’s not Wilford. Wilford doesn’t usually bother with knocking...or doors.
“Another script?” Google asks after the door opens.
“Got to keep busy.”
Got to do something to keep his brain slipping away into its usual spiral of wasteful thoughts. Like since when have there been so many hours in the day? Have his thoughts always been this loud and stupid? Did he really have so few friends before all that nonsense happened?
“Well,” Google’s voice drags him from his thoughts, “this is your daily reminder to eat something.”
Is it 3pm already? He was supposed to give this back to Wilford two hours ago! “Yeah, sure.” he waves dismissively.
There’s about a second before suddenly his chair is moving, and Bim yelps. Google has a hold of the back and is dragging it, Bim and all, away from the desk, turning it so Trimmer is facing towards the door.
“Google!” Bim scowls, “What the hell?!”
“After repeated failures to act on your scheduled reminder, I have concluded you cannot be trusted to get adequate sustenance without supervision.” The droid comes round the side of the chair, a cheeky smirk on his face. “As such I will be chaperoning you to the kitchen.”
Bim chuckles. He supposes he can spare ten minutes.
Google’s always had some sass to him, usually a very dry wit, but since he got that new emotional processor he’s really gotten cheeky. It’s like a whole new level of potential dickishness has opened up to him. It would likely be unbearable if he didn’t have Bing as a positive influence.
“Are you visiting Bing today?” Bim asks as they walk down the corridor.
Google nods.
Bing moved out the building pretty quickly, and who can blame him? After all he went through he’s earned the right to some space. King of the Squirrels left with him. They live in a small apartment together across town. Google pays the rent, the bills, everything. They tried to refuse but Google didn’t accept that so at least they don’t need to worry about that. Google’s the only one who’s allowed to visit. Give him some time to recover.
Ed left too once he was able to stand. He got pretty drunk, spouted about double standards, crazy assholes, then said something about heading up-state to live with his cousin and he was gone the next day.
Pretty much everyone else has stayed. There was a month where no one could really bare to be in the same room, but they all still live together.
Natemare moved back in, has his own room and everything. Mad followed soon after, though more out of necessity than any wish to be near any one else. He had opted to stay at his warehouse but thanks to a random arson attack, the place burned to the ground and with nowhere else to go Mad joined the team.
In the kitchen, Yancy sits at the breakfast bar, poking morosely at a soggy bowl of cereal with a spoon.
Yancy’s brother had just about managed to convince everyone to let the ex-inmate move in – I mean why not, they’ve got literal demons and mass-murderers in here – when there was an accident. Illinois has been missing for nearly five months now. A fact Yancy surely hasn’t forgotten as he scowls at the TV Host as he enters. Two seconds later, the inmate is storming from the room.
Bim sighs. He may or may not have been involved in said accident, and Yancy may or may not have come close to singeing his face off more than once. Google places a reassuring hand on Bim’s shoulder.
“Come on,” he says, “Let’s get you something to eat.”
A good portion of this update comes from my personal realisation that I visualise Silver and Yan very similarly, simply because of their red-dyed hair. And so I am addressing it. Kind of.
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“There you go, sweetheart.” The waitress gives a warm smile as she tops up Bim’s coffee.
“Thanks.” he smiles back but it drops the second she turns away.
Bim’s sat at the counter of a diner across the road from a motel. As far as he understands, Mad is over there right now doing whatever it is needs doing so he can fix Google. All Bim has to do is sit and wait for him to come back.
“Mr. Trimmer?”
Bim turns and almost chokes on his coffee as he comes face to face with a scarily familiar person.
“Silver?” he splutters.
The stranger stood beside him looks understandably confused. “Sorry?”
Bim takes off his glasses, pretending to clean them with his jacket, hoping his cheeks aren’t flaring as red as they feel. Of course it’s not Silver. Silver’s…
Besides they don’t even look alike. I mean yeah, their hair may be the same bright red on top, but this guy is clearly two inches taller, a bit leaner, and their eyeliner is pretty damn sharp. Silver never wore makeup if he could help it.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Bim insists and thankfully that seems to be enough to dismiss any further questioning.
The stranger gestures over his shoulder with his thumb. “There’s a crazy guy in my motel room who said he’s trying to help you. Mind if I join you?”
“Sure.” Bim gestures to the stool beside him, taking the hand the stranger offers in greeting.
“I’m Yan Cutler,” they explain, “My pronouns are they/them.” The handshake is firm but not tight. Trustworthy.
“Bim Trimmer, he/him.” It’s been a long time since Bim’s introduced himself with his pronouns, he really should get back into the habit. Then again its been a while since he’s met someone outside of a dating context and he’s not certain how much he wants to spend half the date explaining why it’s common fucking courtesy to introduce yourself that way. “How’re negotiations going?”
Yan gives a confused chuckle. “You have met him, right?”
“What brings you to come and talk to the taxi driver?” Bim doesn’t know this contact, who they are, what their history with Mad is, or really what it is they’re even here for. He would hope it’s for the processor, but knowing what the mechanical man can be like, it could easily be anything along a road towards getting one.
“I just have one question,” They give a non-commital shrug and Bim braces himself, “Why are you trusting him?”
“We don’t really have any other choice.”
“Surely there’s someone else. Anyone else?”
Except there isn’t. Mad may be an ass, but they can at least trust he isn’t working with Mark or the Author. Bim sighs.
“No one knows droids like Mad does. And we’ve lost far too many people at this point to go with anything less than our best chance." Bim downs the last of his coffee. He really just wants this all to be over.
Yan sits in silence for a few moments. That’s a loaded statement and sounds like it comes with a pretty sizable back story, but before they can ask, Mare suddenly appears on the other side of the counter where only staff are supposed to be.
“Fuck!” Yan jumps.
The anger Yan remembers is completely gone, replaced by sheer panic and complete disregard for the poor waitress who’s screaming at his sudden appearance.
“Mare get out from behind there.” Bim hisses at him. After years of being Wilford’s friend and coworker, you get used to sudden apparitions or you get a new job. “What are you-?”
There’s a shaking to Bim’s fingers as he sits, eyes passing over the chaos that is his family. It’s a very slight shake, one that he very quickly does his best to hide as you draw near. When he smiles, his eyes crinkle just a little too much, his toothy grin draws a little too wide, and though no tears fall you can see them glistening in his eyes.
“You really shouldn’t worry about me.” he offers with a cheery voice.
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“We’ll fix this.” William promises, his arms tightly wrapped around Tobi, holding him close while Jackson stands a short way off, fiddling with the strap of his saddle bag. Tobi is holding William back with one hand, but the other is reached behind him, fingers desperately clinging to Bim’s. More than once Bim moves to gently tug his fingers from the grip but they just cling tighter and he waits, feeling a little bit like a third wheel on this private moment th at he knows Tobi’s waited nearly five years for.
Wickes turns his back, not being a very touchey-feely guy himself, wandering over to stand near Phantom, watching him with a rather annoying level of fascination. The dealmaker watches him back, daring him to make a move. Wickes honestly doesn’t care though, throwing a glance back over his shoulder at the little love fest before turning away again.
“This might go on a while.” he mutters towards Phantom. “Now may be the kindest time.”
As Phantom takes a step forward, since Wickes is definitely right, Bim’s heart leaps into his chest, racing a mile a minute. Now? Already? Can’t they have another five minutes? Except Wickes is right. This moment has to happen, and the longer they leave this, the worse it’s going to hurt.
When Phantom’s cane glows, Bim steps closer, holding Tobi’s hand close, watching the light slowly spread over the dumbass hero. It grows, covering every inch of skin swallowing him up.
They all watch and wait in silence as it becomes brighter, glowing intensely until the details of the man in the light begin to blur, and eventually, the limbs they’re holding onto become air. Within moments, where Tobias….Damien once stood, there’s nothing but empty space.
Phantom says something, but the words don’t break through.
Bim stares at his fingers, empty. Silent tears cascade down his cheeks. It’s too quiet but what the hell is he supposed to say? What is he supposed to do?
Surprisingly strong arms reach forward, wrapping around him and pulling him against a strange yet oddly familiar chest. The hands are dirty, worn and cracked, a sign that whoever they belong to uses them often. Bim doesn’t think. He just leans into the chest, reaching to hold it back, not really registering who it is, just that they’re there, and right now that’s just what he needs. A shuddery breath in is followed by a quiet choking on a strangled cry that Bim can’t keep in.
This is all his fault.
“It’s okay.” the chest he’s held against rumbles. It sounds like Wilford, but Bim knows that means it must be William. Surprisingly similar but so different at the same time. “We’ll fix this.”
Except there’s so much to fix. How much more must they lose before this ends, before they can rise up and take back their home. Stress and anxiety he didn’t know he was holding in wells up and pours out, clinging a little tighter and just crying. Because godammit, Bim’s earned that much.
Part of him wishes he could stay like this. Hidden from the world and it’s cruelties, just for a little while. Pretend that everything isn’t all falling to shit. Except the ragtag remains of his family are waiting in the next room. They’ll be waking up soon and they’re going to need him to make sure nobody else does anything else incredibly stupid.
Bim pushes back, straightening up, barely able to raise his head, but still smiling, thanking William for the small comfort. Phantom is gone, but the three strangers are still there. Something else he will have to prepare the others for. Something to try and explain to Dark and Wilford. Oh lord! Wilford!
The door to the other room suddenly crashes open, revealing a still incredibly weak-looking Dark stood on the other side. Almost all his weight is leaning on Marvin, stood beside him with the grey man’s arm thrown over his shoulder. By the tired and aggravated look of the magician’s face, there was an argument about moving the grey bastard, and Marvin lost.
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