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It was a normal day. It was a normal fucking day.
What had become Tommy's new normal, at least. He was still getting used to it, he fucking loved it, honestly - this life of his… some days were still hard, but so worth it in the long run. He was happy, and he was safe. Even for all the fear he still felt sometimes, even if he couldn't shake this trauma and this terror and these panic attacks and these nightmares… he was safe, and that was what mattered. Today was a good day, a normal day. Tommy resolved to spend most of it in his room, admittedly - because he was actually kind of tired today. He'd had a night terror the night before and hadn't really been able to sleep afterwards, so he had started today off kind of slow and sluggish. He was still struggling to figure out these fucking letters, and what to say. But he was taking Wilbur's advice, taking a break, and dedicating his time to sewing patches onto his hoodie, humming softly as he worked. Damn Wilbur got him back into fucking singing…
Bloom was curled up on the foot of his bed, her head down and her eyes shut. Tommy watched her from time to time, smiling to himself, but he kept his attention focused on his work for the most part. Today was a slow, and tired day, but it was a normal day. At least, so Tommy thought.
A sudden, loud crash from outside his room made Tommy flinch. His shoulders hiked up to his ears and the needle in his hand slipped a bit, pricking his finger. The pain registered before anything else - he couldn't remember the last time he had felt something fucking painful like that, and now, staring down at his hand, he couldn't recall the last time he'd seen his own blood. It used to be an every day fucking occurrence, something Tommy had long gotten used to. Now the sight was almost foreign; it made his stomach churn and chest tighten with discomfort, waves of panic and confusion rolling through him. He fumbled for the needle again, grabbing it and moving to stick it into the pin cushion, and pushed his hoodie away from him, breathing out. And in, and out, and in again… it hurt, struggling to breathe through the sudden rush of panic.
"Panic attack," an unfamiliar voice uttered near him, and then Bloom was clambering into his lap. Tommy startled a bit, not quite registering the words just yet; he wrapped his arms around the calf quickly, taking a deep breath and burying his face into her fur while she nuzzled up against him and rasped her tongue over his cheek, letting out soft little bleats as she snuggled into his lap and cuddled closer. He tucked his chin over her head after a moment, sighing softly.
He pressed a kiss to her head, and shifted a bit to pull her closer. "Thanks, Bloom."
"Don't mention it," that unfamiliar voice piped up again, soft and soothing, and Tommy froze.
… what.
A strangled, startled sound was all that escaped Tommy's lips for a moment; and then he was pulling himself back quickly to get a better look at Bloom, staring down at the calf with wide eyes. She managed to look confused as Tommy pulled away from her, but let him go without a fight, pulling back a bit herself and tilting her head slightly at him. Tommy just stared. He just fucking stared, genuinely not knowing what to say or do - and then her mouth opened again, and in place of her usual soft "moo"s and bleats, Tommy nearly fucking fainted when she spoke. "You okay? … Oh, uh, hm. Okay, that's just more panic. Maybe I should go get Papa, methinks." Her ears swiveled toward the door, but she continued to stare at Tommy, who just gaped at her.
He sprung back to action quickly, however, when the calf began to move, as if to jump off the bed. "Wait- wait-" He stammered, struggling to wrap his head around what had just happened. What was still fucking happening, actually. "Don't- wait, don't leave. Hold- hold on, I just need-" He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to take in a breath. Bloom's ears lifted back up toward him, and her head tilted a little more. Tommy wondered if she could understand him. Hell, could he even understand her, or was he fucking going crazy? He felt like he was going crazy, he felt like he was fucking losing his mind. He genuinely couldn't process this right now. "You… you…" He stopped, breathing in. Slow and steady, like Puffy had taught him. Don't panic. "I don't… you… uh… what the fuck," he finally forced out. "You- just- a-are you- say something."
"Beg pardon?" Oh my fucking god. Bloom sounded incredulous. She had an accent like him, also - holy fuck she was British, that actually tickled him quite a bit. "I don't- wait. Oh no. Wait…"
And they stared at each other, just like that, for several fucking minutes.
"Can-" Bloom slowly sat back on the bed, wide-eyed as she stared. "Can you understand me?" Tommy opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak for a moment. So he merely nodded. He didn't know what else to fucking do, he didn't know what to say. What was he supposed to say? He was still processing the fucking fact that his cow was talking to him. His cow was talking to him and Tommy could understand her. He could never understand cows before. This was new. This was a very new development, a very interesting development, and a rather scary one, too.
Bloom stared for about twenty seconds longer before letting out a loud bleat. "Holy fucking shit!"
And that- oh.
Tommy let out another strangled, surprised sound, and then laughed. The sound built in his throat and escaped with a touch of hysteria, eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at the calf. Just- what the fuck. What the actual fuck. What the actual fuck, what was fucking happening. He laughed a little harder at the wide-eyed look he was receiving from Bloom, absolutely astonished. Bloom, in contrast, was visibly excited, up on her hooves and jumping around on the bed, letting out loud little bleats every so often as she crowed out her victory. "Fucking yes! Dad can understand me! Hell yeah!" She whipped around to face him, then, tail waving back and forth excitedly behind her while Tommy just stared in awe. "Hey, you understand me, yeah?"
"I…" Tommy shook his head in amazement, still processing what the fuck was happening, and managed to huff out another laugh. "I- I- yeah, I can- I can understand you. I- I can… holy fuck."
"Holy fuck!" He swore Bloom laughed this time, squealing out another excited "moo", and then launched herself forward into his arms. He fumbled a bit to catch her, laughing as she clambered up into his lap and then climbed and stretched up to place her hooves against his chest, reaching up until they were nose to nose. Tommy found himself giggling as she rasped her tongue over his face over and over again, bumping their heads together and nuzzling him. "Holy shit, you can understand me- Dad, I love you, you are the bestest, poggest person ever."
"Oh," Tommy breathed out eloquently, wrapping his arms around her. Tears stung his eyes for some unknown reason; he blinked them back and just beamed down at his little girl, an excitement and warmth blooming in his chest ever so steadily. She stared back up at him through wide purple eyes, filled with excitement and glee and love, and today was not a normal day by any fucking means, but this was quite possibly the best day Tommy had had in a while. His throat constricted as he swallowed, struggling to force his thoughts back in order as he spoke. "Well, you are the bestest, poggest moobloom ever," he said softly. "And I love you, too."
"You can actually understand me," Bloom marveled, absolutely awed. "Like, deadass."
"Bloom-" Another laugh tore itself from his lips, this one much louder. He spared a quick glance toward the door and quieted himself quickly, but his grin stayed strong as he turned his attention back to the moobloom in his lap. "Bloom, sweetheart I'm- who the fuck taught you these words."
"Uncle Bird Boy," Bloom replied innocently, and it took Tommy a solid minute to realize. Wilbur. "He teaches me all the best words. In fact, I have recently learned an interesting new combination." He had half a second to think oh no before the calf took a deep breath in - Tommy could not fucking keep the grin off his face - and shouted at the top of her lungs. "Eat shit, cunt!"
Tommy snorted, and then burst into laughter at once, dissolving into a fit of cackles and coughs. "Bloom-!" He gasped out, wheezing, and screwed his eyes shut against a rush of tears. "Fuck-!"
"What?" Bloom grinned up at him. Mischief sparkled through her eyes, a fire that Tommy thought he recognized. He managed to calm his laughter for a moment, just to gaze back at her. Something about her was familiar, in fact. Everything about her. It was apparent even before now, but now, being able to understand her, to hear the words she had to say - it was so very clear in that moment, so very familiar. But Tommy still couldn't quite put his finger on it, not yet. He just knew that he had seen this somewhere before, he recognized her energy and her spark.
And it was beautiful, it was brilliant, it ignited something in Tommy that almost scared him. He pulled Bloom closer, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. "I think I'm going to have to have a talk with Uncle Bird Boy about the words that he's been teaching you," he declared solemnly, and Bloom giggled as he went on. "What other eloquent swears have been added to your vocabulary? Actually- Bloom. Bloom, I have a question; what is the worst word you know?"
"Penultimate," came Bloom's immediate response. "Fucking hate that bitchass word."
Tommy tried not to laugh, he really did, but he couldn't help himself. "Jesus christ- okay, why?"
"Just sounds like a dumb word. Like if that word was a person it would be the most fucking stupid braindead person in existence. That word should not exist, it should simply burn in Hell." Bloom tilted her head, ears flopping with the movement, and grinned at him. "What about you?"
"I don't know any bad words," Tommy replied. "Who's your favorite woman?"
"You're asking me to-" Bloom gave him a look, actually dismayed. Tommy just couldn't keep himself from dissolving into laughter as she went on, steadily growing louder the more and more she continued - this fucking calf was proving to be the best conversationalist, and Tommy decided he could literally just sit here all day discussing nothing and everything with her at once. This was genuinely the best day of his life; he fucking adored this. "Oh, Dad. Dad, I cannot choose a favorite fucking woman, I- what the fuck is wrong with you? All women… are queens!"
Tommy let out a quiet snrk sound, and he actually, truly did try to fucking hold it back - but in the end he just couldn't resist, he just couldn't fucking help himself. "If she breathes… she's a thot!"
Bloom burst into laughter, squealing and snorting and bleating, and… and she sounded like him. She sounded just like him, when she laughed. His eyes widened slightly at the sound; it was loud, and gleeful and genuinely the best fucking thing he had ever heard. She sank into his lap, pressing her head against his arm as she cackled, and Tommy shifted to wrap both of his arms back around her, gazing down at the little calf in complete amazement. She was so… amazing. She reminded him a little of himself, the way that he used to be. No, that's what it was. That's what it fucking was, that energy, that fire, that spark. She reminded him of a younger version of himself, lively and energetic and unafraid. And rather than the disgust Tommy thought he would feel, when faced with this younger, reckless, loud, brash version of himself, Tommy was in awe.
How could he feel anything but love for her?
"Okay," Bloom gasped, giggling. "Okay. Okay. Question time. Favorite color, go!"
Tommy grinned. "Red. You?"
"Pink. Favorite food?"
"Gapple pie. You?"
"Mashed gapples and carrot slices. Favorite flower?"
Tommy paused, eyeing the alliums sprouting across her back. "I feel like this is a trick question."
"No, it is not," Bloom replied. "You may speak freely here, my dear father."
"... dandelions…"
"HOW COULD YOU, ALLIUMS ARE SUPERIOR-"