Rabiddog gaming

It's a human. Wilbur had to put it back, of course, because a human didn't belong with them. Would never belong with them. Not yet, at least. The story of Tommy, a very human Tommy, and how he learned to love, fight, and manage to bring a broken family back together.

With a little bit of help, and perhaps some magic, obviously. Tommy gets off of the tube. He pulls on the straps of his backpack. He plays a Taylor Swift song in his headphones, and starts heading up and out of the underground.

He gets to the top step, his feet landing next to one another. Tommy's world goes blank. He plays a Taylor Swift song in his headphones, and-. Having time to yourself away from everyone? Not like exile, of course, just a few days or so that you can really think. You could have your time away, and I could spend time with Ranboo and Michael without interruption. I mean, I have Snowchester, those two, Jack, I have Are you coming to bed soon?

One second, Boo. The communicator gave a little jerk, a little tremor and a trembling beep before cutting out into silence. Bandaged fingers lay to rest on its cracked screen, forever stained red and forever unmoving. There was nothing. Just blonde, blonde hair, dull, dull eyes, and a battered, bleeding body put to rest in its final grave. Plain text with limited HTML?

Main Content While we've done our best to make the core functionality of this site accessible without javascript, it will work better with it enabled. Get an Invitation. It was night when you died, my firefly rabiddog Summary: Bandaged, bloody fingers wrapped around a cracked communicator, slowly beginning to loop carefully around it with trembling, quivering movements and pressing down. Because-" - Tubbo is dismissive. Tommy needs help. Notes: See the end of the work for notes. What's bleeding?

Has something bad happened? Really bad? The last thing that Tommy truly remembers - the last vivid memory shining within his cracking mind - is of sharing hot chocolate with Tubbo. And Ranboo, too, actually. They'd been sandwiched on the couch together, Tommy tucked up protectively between the two husbands with his knees pulled to his chest and his toes shoved underneath Ranboo's thigh in a last-ditch effort to warm them just a little more. Tommy remembers that he'd been pulled against Tubbo, the feeling close and warm and so, so comforting.

The older goat-hybrid had gently run his fingers through Tommy's white-tinted locks and murmured soft, calming words. There was still some blonde, still some streaks of that familiar yellow, but a lot of it had been tinted white after his painful revival.

It had been sweet, though. Tommy had wrapped his long, bandaged fingers around a steaming mug of hot chocolate, inhaled the intimate scent of deep pine and fresh snow, and let his eyes slowly slip shut. Only to snap open at a scene so horrific, so confusing and gut-wrenching, that he felt waves of vomit rising in the heat of his aching throat. Tommy's hands lifted upwards, all shaking and quivering and trembling as he began to pull at his strands of hair, tearing and ripping and squeezing the locks between his broken fingernails.

He didn't want to hurt people, he didn't want to hurt anyone again, not after all of the wars and the fighting and the killing. He'd already done so much wrong - hurt so many people. Why couldn't he just be good, now? Why couldn't he recover in peace away from everything evil and villainous and cruel?

Tubbo was angry. He was seething and frenzied; he was resentful and wrathful; he was livid and wild. He looked dark and hostile, and as if he wanted to wrap his hands around Tommy's neck and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

Squeeze until Tommy's lips were turning blue, and his lungs were screaming for even a drop of air. Squeeze until the life was slowly seeping from Tommy's soul, his last life drifting away from him for a second time. Tommy slowly lowered his hands down from his hair, the stains of red messy and now smeared over his palm and wrists and-.

Tubbo swallowed. He clutched the small, fragile body in his arms even closer. A white sheet covered it. Or a typically white sheet. The blonde could only see red, red, red. Tommy flinched then, jolting backwards with a surprised mumble and hitting into something warm and cold and familiar and foreign- Ranboo's hands steadied his movements, though they weren't anything comforting as they had been just hours before.

His grip was tight and unrelenting, claws digging in through a thin material and leaving deep marks in pale skin, and there was an icy feeling accompanying them, one that had Tommy shivering and shaking under. Ranboo's voice was tense and just slightly wavering, bordering on as furious as Tubbo's tone. There was already the hint of an Enderman's deadly screech working its way along with his words, and Tommy was more than aware that he needed to leave.

He needed to leave and run away and get far from the situation-. I hate you! I hate you so much!