#q!sbi

[cellberry]

Uncleinnit is canon to the QSMP baby!

[ctommy-chileno]

It's really clear that a sbi writer is a techno main when they write Quackity as a villain

Like, that's Wilburs bf and Tom's fun big cousin

[aracnidaarmagedon]

//Spoilery rant ahead, watch Philza's QSMP (15/09) stream first

Q!PHILZA DOESN'T ONLY FEEL LIKE AN IDIOT BECAUSE HIS CHILDREN GOT KIDNAPPED, BUT ALSO BECUASE HE FEELS LIKE HE HAS BROKEN HIS SON'S (WILBUR) TRUST BY LOSING HIS DAUGHTER!!!

Q!PHIL HAS SO MUCH SELF LOATHING THAT JUST ENDED UP EXPLODING TODAY, THIS MAN FEELS LIKE A FAILURE OF A FATHER.

I NO LONGER WANT TOMMY TO BE ADDED, I CAN BEARLY SURVIVE ALL THIS ANGST RIGHT NOW!!!!

[hadesbullshit]

If we take SBI (the characters) as dubiously cannon q!Phil has just rebuilt his dead and missing family

Fighter and daddy’s boy Cheyenne is Techno

Reserved musical Tallulah is Wilbur

And the youngest, last to be added gorge group optimist Sunny who has been though too much for such a small child is Tommy

[when-you-cant-think-of-anything]

If you have not read The Children’s Rebellion

This is your call from the universe to start reading it. NOW.

Even if you're not or haven’t been apart of the DSMP fandom this story is heartbreaking and you will love it. The world building is *mwah* and the story is beautiful.

[angelsandarsenic]

For as the Fates Decreed: how are tommy and Phil avians, techno a piglin and Wilbur a human? (Avian?) if they’re related

So, yes, SBI is a biological family in As the Fates Decreed, and Kristin is a goddess. The way I think about dieties like gods and mortals being together is that gods don't really contribute DNA to the child like the mortal parent will, it's more like divinity. What would be the second half of the child's DNA could end up as anything (any other being in space because gods can be whatever they want) and often includes some sort of power or longevity, quick healing or extra durability and strength. Techno got a lot of this, as well as being a piglin, Wilbur is just plain human but some divine features and Tommy took mostly after Philza

I actually have so much lore and there was gonna be a side story thing centered on the Pantheon but it got scrapped. Anyway though, I'm glad you guys liked the story! It's one of my favorites <3

[moobloom-mention]

Life is Unfair (But I'd Do Anything to Make It Fair for You)

Part 1 || Part 2

Summary: "It'll get better," Quackity had promised. "Schlatt can't pick fights with me forever."

Five years later and Tubbo's tired of hoping for a better tomorrow.

OR

A warm-up in which Tubbo runs away, promising to get Q out of his abusive relationship, but ends up getting forcefully adopted by SBI fae

Content Warnings: Cursing. Violence. Physical abuse. Child abuse. Kidnapping.

Word Count: 2789 words

----------

It'd all started with a loud bang.

That in itself wasn't alarming; peace had always been short-lived within the walls of their cottage.

What had been startling, however, was the sight of Quackity and Schlatt arguing in front of him.

Usually it was Tubbo's presence that served as a peace-keeper, a child which signaled Quackity to deescalate the situation as quickly as possible.

"You always run from Father when I see you argue," a bold four-year-old Tubbo dared to bring up.

"Ducklings aren't supposed to see grown-ups argue," the avian-hybrid had claimed with a shrug. Father had grunted in agreement from the other room- a rare compromise agreed between the pair.

"I'm not a duckling," Tubbo frowned, as though it were the important takeaway from Quackity's sentence. Short horns had already begun to form a bump beneath his mess of dark brow hair, painfully pitiful in comparison to Father's own pair. "I have horns!"

Feigned offense appeared in the avian's eyes. "You'll always be a duckling in my eyes-"

Quackity had swept him into a hug of his own, Q deaf to Tubbo's squeals and fits of laughter as hands tickled the then four-year-old's sides.

The compromise- like most of Quackity and Father's agreements -never lasted long, but three years had been one hell of a record.

It was Tubbo's own fault for the compromise's demise anyway. He'd only been seven at the time when he snuck downstairs amidst a particularly devastating argument.

Neither must have noticed Tubbo's presence, for Father begun to raise his hand whilst Quackity spit insults into the air. It was obvious the moment Quackity's eyes settled atop the hand- the avian had dared to step toward the threat and present his cheek.

It was a stalemate- neither interested in backing down. The stubborn duck's stance was firm; he'd rather be hit than submit to Father at his own volition.

And so, Tubbo had done the only thing he knew would deescalate the situation.

It was too easy to scramble across the kitchen's hard-wood flooring and jump between the loud pair. He'd only been able to hear the terrified gasp of, "Wait, Schlatt-!" before Tubbo's cheek ignited with the sharp sting of contact.

He couldn't hide the flinch that came when a gentle hand- far too careful to belong to his father -dragged him to the side.

Long-awaited silence greeted the trio.

It was Tubbo who dared to move as he lifted a hand, which pressed down on the bright red handprint that'd carved its home atop his face. It was odd to seek comfort within the pressure applied directly to the sore skin.

Oh, he faintly registered. He'd been slapped.

Father's lips maintained a thin line as he took a step back, far more composed than Tubbo's flinch. With no words left to be uttered, furious steps carried Father up the stairs of the cottage. It wasn't until long after the slam of a door that Quackity slowly pulled the hand cradled at Tubbo's face aside in order to embrace the young ram properly.

"Don't you ever do that again," Quackity whispered, his voice sharp with...fear? "Our arguments are not for you to get in the middle of."

Tubbo only nodded, vision blurred with sudden tears. The gentle shake in Quackity's shoulders encouraged the younger's sobs, both uncaring when the avian's tears had begun to mix with Tubbo's own.

"I promise," Tubbo whispered, eyes clenched tightly as he melted into Quackity's arms.

But the fighting only got worse.

It was as though his father had decided it wasn't worth putting off fights until Tubbo was out of the room anymore; most of the arguments between Father and Quackity seemed to be about him anyway.

"Toby chose a side the day he took a hit for you."

And that was it.

Mornings came when Tubbo would sneak downstairs, rattled by the quiet atmosphere of the cottage. He'd searched desperately for the irony behind how he sought comfort in the appearance of anger and booming voices whilst dreading their arrival all the same.

At least so long as the sun dotted the tree line of the neighboring forest it was guaranteed for the residence to stay quiet. Quackity's fast-asleep frame settled atop the living room couch only proved it; fights were difficult to pick when both of his parents were asleep.

Those early days marked Tubbo's adventures along the edge of the cottage's front-yard, staring into the dark forest behind the oak picket-fence. He'd stare until Quackity's exhausted voice called him inside for breakfast.

Who knew undying curiosity for the unknown creatures inhabiting the forest was a good coping mechanism to the unstable relationship of his parents.

It was healthy- until his curiosity grew too much.

There was bound to be a new cottage out in the forest, one he could bring Quackity into and never have to worry about Father again. Then they could finally be happy.

But first, Tubbo would need to find it; all by himself. He didn't want to get Quackity's hopes up only to squander them if he couldn't find one.

He hadn't waited for the sun's arrival before he began to usher around his room, stuffing plushies and clothes in a bag that Quackity had once crocheted for him. The slow descent down the stairs had to of been the most scary part- waking the avian whilst grabbing food would render the organized mission impossible.

Thankfully, his rummage through the pantry goes unheard, bread and jars of sweet jelly placed alongside his toys. It's then that he makes his way toward the couch, pushing his bag against the backside of the furniture before beelining for Quackity.

Tubbo barely has to lean to stoop over the avian's sleeping form, eyes lingering on the unkept golden feathers protecting his back. He gently pushes his head into the older's chest with a soft, "Q?"

"Tubbo?" comes the groggy voice of Quackity. A single eye slips open to confirm his suspicions, a smile forming atop the avian's face. "What are you doing up-" he pauses to yawn, "-so early? There's not even light outside."

The eight-year-old only finds it in himself to shrug. "I..."

Quick, quick. Think of a lie-

"I had a nightmare," Tubbo proclaims, sounding a touch too proud for his liking. Thankfully, Quackity is far too out-of-it to raise an eyebrow and merely bundles the ram closer.

"Pobrecito," the avian coos, running his hand through the messy locks of brown hair. "It's alright, you can come to me about anything, yeah? Would you like me to walk you back up to your room?"

Panic flares within Tubbo, "No, no."

He isn't sure what he'd do if Quackity discovered his bag of packed belongings and snacks sitting just three feet away from them.

"I just," Tubbo glances toward the window, the first peak of light arriving already. "I wanted to say that I love you."

Quackity makes a soft chirp that sings of adoration, giving Tubbo one last squeezing hug. "I love you too, Tubbo. Now go back to bed, I'll grab you for breakfast."

The eight-year-old nods, leaving his backpack behind the couch as he shuffles back upstairs.

He waits at the top of the stairway for ten minutes, anxiety crawling over the idea of Quackity deciding to wake up suddenly and discover the bag. Thankfully, as he crawls down the stairs- cautious of every squeaking board beneath his feet -Quackity is again fast asleep, leaving Tubbo to pick his bag up and move toward the front door.

It's startling how easy it is to slip outside without another word, uncertainty crawling up his throat as he makes his way toward the yard's edge.

This was it. The beginning to Tubbo's new life, the ending to a tragic backstory. He'd make a name for himself, come back and whisk Quackity away to a...a castle! Yes, one made of gold to match the avian's love for the ore.

That sounded nice.

"I'll be back for you, Q. I promise."

And off Tubbo went, disappearing behind the forest's edge.

Quiet is not a word Tubbo thought he'd use to describe the forest. He'd always seen birds soar from the tops of pine trees, with soft songs on their beaks that reminded him of Quackity's own talent of singing.

If there's one regret he's to live with, it's not asking the avian to sing more for him whilst he still lived at the cottage.

But there'd be more chances, Tubbo shrugs. He promised Quackity that he'd be back for him.

If only the thing rustling in the bushes could stop following him.

Light had barely spread through the forest when the noise first started- a singular bush bustling about before moving onto the next to follow in Tubbo's footsteps. It was...nice to have such a consistent sound whenever the birds would grow too quiet for his liking.

The only issue was how long it'd gone on for.

At first, it'd been in his interest to make contact with an unsteady, "Hello?"

But it was only the call of the wind that answered.

So Tubbo had continued his journey, straying far from clumps of bushes whenever he could. It was an easy task until he found himself with an obstacle: a sea of bushes guarding a soft clearing of grass. Patches of mushrooms await him within the clearing, a tempting sight to behold for the eight-year-old.

He sighs, the grip on his bag tightening before he dares to take another step and conquer the ravenous bush-field. He's more than aware of the dangers of the forest, Quackity had ensured he was informed once Tubbo confessed to his ventures in the front-yard:

"There are dangerous things out there not even Schlatt would mess with."

To a younger Tubbo, those words had been terrifying.

"Wolves and creatures that will-"

"Steal my stuffed animals?" Tubbo gasped, horrified by the concept.

The skin beneath Quackity's eyes didn't wrinkle when he smiled. "Yes, they'll steal all your stuffed animals-"

He's barely four steps into the bushes when the rustling begins once more. Despite himself, Tubbo dares to stare directly toward the noise, identifying it as remaining a few bushes away from him. If anything it serves as encouragement for Tubbo to push on, eyes narrowing as his pace quickens.

Every step is another active bush that approaches Tubbo, up until the eight-year-old begins to sprint. He can see the clearing more obviously now- hopefully the wolf chasing him would be merciful and leave him be should he reach his goal.

Maybe he could throw mushrooms on it- wolves were scared of mushrooms, right?

...yeah, yeah. They were...

True to Tubbo's thought, the rustling ceases the moment he leaps into the clearing, eyes worried as he verifies the absence of any unwanted creatures.

Finally.

Quackity would be proud that Tubbo made it all by himself-

"You're not a fox!"

"Ack-!"

Tubbo can't stop the way he stumbles to the ground, rapidly blinking up at where the voice had come from. He'd hardly expected to meet a talking wolf that'd been following him, but then again, he'd hardly expected to leave the cottage in the first place.

Only, it isn't a talking wolf that greets his dazed expression. It's a boy, one who couldn't possibly be older than Tubbo, with a feral mop of blonde hair atop his head.

"I'm not a fox," Tubbo agrees defensively. It's difficult to wave aside the clash of mischief and bewilderment in the stranger's blue eyes. "I'm Tubbo."

"Tubbo," the blonde repeats, as though he were testing out the name. Once wide eyes suddenly harden with an emotion akin to irritation, as though the other were noticing the absence of something. "That's a stupid nickname."

"No it's not," Tubbo scolds; Quackity had awarded him that name. "It's a good nickname."

"Well I'm Tommy," the forest boy- Tommy -proclaims. "It's obviously a good name since I don't need a nickname."

"Whatever," Tubbo huffs, unused to the amount of energy radiating off of Tommy. Father, of course, had his own fair share of "energy" he'd express on a daily routine, but it was more-so an amount that stemmed from anger instead of Tommy's chaotic thrill.

Tommy was...different.

And to prove it, there's barely a pause of silence before Tommy's whining. "You talk too softly, is something wrong with you-?"

"No!" Tubbo exclaims, suddenly desperate to impose a good impression. "Just...Q always says not to talk to strangers," he confesses.

"Q?" Tommy echoes, curious. Tubbo holds still as Tommy bounces circles around him. It isn't until the blonde pokes the stubs of Tubbo's horns that his hand is swat aside. "Does he have horns like you?"

"No."

"Hm, oh! Did he find you? Father found me," Tommy supplies with a grin.

Tubbo pauses, silently horrified by the other's words. He can't imagine what it would've been like if Schlatt had found him and forced him to grow used to the ram's behavior. At least being blood-related meant that Tubbo hadn't ever seen his father act differently.

"I guess you could say Q found me," the young ram murmurs before straightening his posture. "But I left," he says proudly, "I'm going to find a new home for us."

"Ooo," Tommy beams, "Maybe you guys can come live with me!"

"With you?"

"Of course, Father will be so happy to see newcomers-"

Tubbo instinctively takes a step back, uncertainty meeting Tommy's puzzled expression.

"What's wrong?"

"I-"

But Tubbo has no answer.

"Father" was the best description he could give to the man related solely through blood and incomparable horns. It was the harsh snarl of alcohol that greeted the atmosphere Father dabbled within; the twinge of panic that curled within Tubbo's gut anytime the ram was mentioned.

"Father" was something Quackity could never sink so low to be called.

Surely Tommy felt the same way.

"Is he mean?"

But Tommy's eyebrows furrow, upset. "Why would he be mean? Father's amazing."

"Then why don't you call him by his name?" Tubbo asks, shocking himself with the accusatory tone seizing his voice.

Why don't you address him like I would Quackity?

"Because 'Father' is a better title!"

"Oh."

Tubbo still didn't understand.

"As long as he's not mean, I guess Q would be okay with me meeting him."

"You're gonna love him," Tommy promises. "And you'll get to see my brothers!"

"Brothers?" the word feels foreign on his tongue. "I've never had brothers before."

Tommy's noise wrinkles in disgust, "Ew, you have a sister then? My brothers say that I should be happy I don't have sisters."

Tubbo can't stop the laugh tumbling from his lungs. "No, I've just never had siblings before."

Tommy's mouth falls into an 'o' shape before it twists into a smile. "Well now you'll get to have some!"

Tubbo tilts his head, "You mean you'll share them with me?"

"Of course! Father would say it's only fair. That's why my big brother let me play with his fox!"

"Oh, right," Tubbo frowns; how could he forget about Tommy's search for a fox? "I haven't seen a fox yet. Maybe we could search for him together?"

Tommy only shakes his head, "That's okay, he's really good at being recalled."

"Floris! Come here."

Tubbo brushes off the shudder that worms its way down his spine, bewildered over how odd the name sounds in Tommy's voice. He's quickly distracted as a gentle rustle erupts from the trees, a fox with a bright orange pelt leaping down from the tree-tops.

"Hm, I've never seen him climb trees before," Tommy ponders, most likely to himself. "But cool! Wilbur will be so excited to hear about it!"

Floris violently shakes his head at the notion- if Tubbo didn't know any better, he'd assume the fox was hyperventilating.

"C'mon Tubbo," Tommy grins wildly. "Let's head home, then we can play tag in the front-yard!"

"How big is your front-yard?" Tubbo asks, eyes wide. He'd never considered the cottage's front-yard to be impressive, just enough to maintain some carrots.

"Humongous!" Tommy exclaims, stretching his arms out as though to demonstrate the length of it. He grabs loosely for Tubbo's arm and tugs the eight-year-old forward before halting in place.

For once, the blonde looks abashed, uncertain and hesitant like Tubbo first had.

Tubbo doesn't like it.

"But I do need your name...Father wouldn't be happy with me playing with a wrong'en."

Oh. That made sense, and it was only fair since Tommy gave up his name.

"Toby," he decides after a moment of silence. It doesn't feel as meaningful as when Tommy had shared his, but maybe this is what making a true friend feels like.

"Well, Toby, once you're there, you'll never want to leave."

[ctntduoarchive]

writing really fluffy ctntduo rn.....

[trenchcoatsbi]

Miiiiight be kinsidering Carre lol.... Can I get a moodboard for him, w/ some themes of cats, wings, swords, blue, And skating? :0

- 🐣

ooo hi 🐣 anon! took me a sec to get to this so rn we literally have an ask where it looks like ya kinfirmed carre already lol. congrats if so, sorry for the wait though lol. uhm yea idk this was just a fun one

art used is by @/evilsartcorner and can be found here: [x]-za

[kedluben-kedlubna]

i don’t know how to do self-promo but c!TNT DUO, am i right :D i write fanfictions on ao3 and my most recent one is exactly that. It’s paranormal AU with a bit of college AU sprinkled in. Slowburn, humor and fluff, angst with happy ending, even sbi moments, i have it all!!

If i caught your interest in the slightest please concider checking me out (i also have finished series with q!TNT duo)

[when-you-cant-think-of-anything]

Just a little wholesomeness

I was getting 8 teeth removed and I have a deathly fear of needles. These two nurses were so sweet and let me rant to them about Technoblade and Wilbur Soot for at least five minutes and even put some ear buds in and watch a video then it all faded away. (this was 3 years ago)

[radxianixe]

tinitignan q posts ko frm may (and a bit of june) 2022 HAHAHA nakakatawa sobrang lungkot ko non grabe. lht nmn ata tau pero grabe parang nalungkot ulet aq. it got to the point na ung teachers q nagcancel ng mga klase nla dba. may paganun pa noon. tas ung iba s knla nagpa eme pa ng grief counseling n shit. pinakita nla unng stages of grief tas tinanong kme where we are and advised us on how to deal with it. tas may pasabi sabi p sla na minsan yung stages of grief hindi mu madadaanan lahat, o hindi in order, o magpapabalik balik k. alam mo totoo un. parang nabalik ako sa anger stage ng grief HHAHAHAHA

[notsogoodangel]

I figured it out, I figured out Philza Minecraft's relationship in QSMP!

Now, the part that I overanalyze all of these relationships

Missa Sinfonia, platonic husband and egg-raising partner, Mumza approved. Deathduo my beloved. They are among my favorite set of partners regarding the eggs. They work surpringsly well. They work as a perfect fight or flight, in which Philza is too careful and will rather flight than fight (although he will do it), while Missa is not as careful and will fight over flight most of the time. Phil is wise and Missa is brave. It works out well.

Forever, sugar baby and Yandere, Mumza hasn't commented on him. The newest of all these relationships and probably the most insane one. Forever wants Phil to love him as he looks exactly like a past love, Brunim, and Phil is having none of it. Honestly, makes me laugh that people think Forever can put Phil in prison or manipulate him into loving him when this man has a way stone and a million teleportation methods at his disposal, and has been put on house arrest in the past and only made his opinions worse.

Wilbur, son shaped and babysitter, Mumza has adopted him, her son now. Wilbur has been Philza's son for so long and he is the reason why the SBI family dynamic even exists in the first place, so that's always a plus. Canonically father and son in Dream SMP, in QSMP? Who knows because Q!Wilbur is from DSMP, but who knows Q!Phil, it worked out because Phil immediately adopted him and accepted Tallulah as his granddaughter. Always cute and slightly cursed, and can read each other like an open book, it's very nice and always a delight to see them interact.

FitMC, from 2b2t and constantly flirting with Philza, Mumza is glad that Phil is mostly straight. Okay, I love Fit, I can easily him and Philza around a grill, cooking meat in the backyard while Ramon and Chayanne as playing, but Fit, why are you flirting with a man that you know is married? You said that he was cheating on Mumza with Missa and you still call Philza babygirl. What's up with that man? Why are you flirting with Philza Minecraft, Fit? Still good friends, you can tell they get along great, just, FitMC from 2b2t, Mr.ApocalypseMan, why? Mumza is watching you.

[angelsandarsenic]

you said you weren’t going to hit all the plot points you wanted in Go Tell the Bees, so what were the rest? If you can tell us without giving spoilers ofc

Ooh good question I’m glad you asked! I don’t think I’m going to finish that or certainly not any time soon so I’ll give you everything

—sbi family game night

—Reference to spiderma where slime is a scientisct/chemist doing stuff with spiders and Tubbo is like--hey, so this seems like a bad idea, lest not OR same thing but tommy gets bit and becomes tubbos sidekick

—the hero commission learns the Golden Apple is in L’manberg and send the retired Puffy and junior hero Fundy to come find the totem and Blue

—Tubbo gets enderpearls

—Tommy becomes Tubbo’s sidekick before he finds out abt the rest of the family being villains, Ranboo becomes their official healer

—benchtrio catches on to The Syndicate trying to bring Blue to L’manberg from Germany and finds out Ranboo’s family is big mafia working with the syndicate

—poor Tubbo just being traumatized

—some particular ways I wanted to beat up Tubbo

—Ranbob goes (has been) rogue and tries to get the Apple, blue and the totem for himself, plus with the presence of official heroes Tubbo and the Syndicate start working together

—Phil with a scythePhilwith a scythe PHILWITH A SCYTHE

—Schlatt dies (L)

—Just read the last excerpt

also I have some of these written out! So excerpts (in order) under the cut :) (directly from my drafts btw)

————       On the roof across from Golden Stinger, standing staring at the skyline, was a woman in a long red pirate coat with flowing rainbow hair.

        Holy fucking shit is that The Captain?! He must be seeing things. He must be. The Captain is retired.

        The hero looks away and then suddenly she's gone, just like that. So I was seeing things after all. Disappointment blooms in his chest. The Captain was always one of his favorite heroes when he was younger. The world got a lot more dangerous when she retired.

        Tubbo remembers when Totem died. The Captain turned in her hero's licence and hung up her hat the very same day. Villains across the world got a hell of a lot more ballsy, and Tubbo had some of the worst few weeks of his life. Absolutely no one took the news of Totem's death well. The rumor mill especially went absolutely wild. Some people had made adamant claims that he had been involved in illegal activity. Every story of his death was different and more exaggerated than the last. Some people speculated that The Captain killed him herself--after all, how was an immortal supposed to die? The years old rumors about them being mother and son sprang up again and only added fuel to the fire.

        As it was, however, the hero commission of Essempi kept their lips firmly shut, nothing was ever confirmed. 

———-

        “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my city?”

        ”I'm Vulpes, I’m a junior hero with the hero commission, studying under The Captain; I’m here to help."

        Tubbo stopped and stared, mouth hanging open beneath his mask. Then he got angry.

        Oh no. No, no, no, the hero commission doesn’t just get to ignore his city and suddenly send in heroes now that shit is going down. They especially don’t get to send in junior heroes, as if 1. Tubbo can’t handle things himself like he’s been doing for almost two years, and 2. An apprentice can do this better than him. As if his villains aren’t powerful enough to warrant an actual goddamn hero. He saw the captain the other night--he knows he did now--but apparently she can’t even be bothered to show up!

        ”Look kid, I don’t need your help. Tell whoever sent you here to—and I quote—screw off.”

        Vulpes frowned. ”Sir, you’re dealing with the Syndicate here, a vigilante can’t take them on on their own.”

        Tubbo sucked in a harsh breath to cool the fire that erupted in his chest and it took everything in him not to snap at this kid. It wasn’t his fault, even if he was being a condescending little shit. Is that what they were calling him?! A vigilante?! And how fucking dare these uppity punks come out here and try to tell him who he’s dealing with, like he hasn’t been the only defense against them all this time?! The Syndicate has been here for years, and this is proof that the hero commission hasn’t given a damn the whole time, because L’manberg was already a crime riddled minor city. 

        Tubbo couldn’t help but laugh, but it wasn’t pleasant. The Piper snorted along with him. Just as he opened his mouth to reluctantly not scream at the kid, The Piper spoke first, with more venom than Tubbo would have used. “Believe me, he’s well aware, and he’s far more capable of ‘dealing with us’ than you ever would be, you snot nosed, kiss ass, audacious little worm.” Tubbo choked on surprise. Siren kept going. “I would turn you into a smear on the pavement," he sneered. As he paced toward the junior hero, the guy scrambled back, eyes going wide. He doesn't even have ear protection! "so like this brat said, scamper back home and tell your bosses that you don’t get to just show up here and try to hero our city.”

        Golden Stinger could only watch in shock as the apprentice turned with a blank look and disappeared off over the rooftops. Finally, “was that a compliment Piper?” He snarked, slowly breaking into a grin. 

“Fuck off.” ———— They waited in tense silence for a moment, crowded around the computer. One beat, two beats, th-

        "...(smth)" Dammit, he didn't know what they were saying! He knew there was a chance this would happen, which was why he was recording, but this really just made it a hassle. All of the sudden, there was flurry of motion beside him and when he looked over, Ranboo had a pencil and was scribbling rapidly. Is he...there's no way he understands them, right? That must be enderian then, how lucky. He tapped him on the shoulder, but the blonde just shushed him. "(smth smth)" Ranboo's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes went slightly wide. He hesitated. What are they saying?! What's happening?! He hurried to pull up google translate, but that probably wouldn't be good enough. Besides, what if they were talking about suspicious black market stuff and google translate thought it was something else because normal people don't talk about that? "Be patient, ⌰⟟⏁⏁⌰⟒ ⏁⍀⏃⎐⟒⌰⟒⍀."

        Then Ranboo stopped completely. "...⋔⍜⋔?"

(Niki is one of Ranboo's friends, runs the Th⟒'⟒nd branch of the syndicate) (they're speaking ender) 

—————

     "Alright creeper...where are you?"

        All was quiet. Tubbo was honestly impressed that the villain was able to stay so silent. Or at least he would be, if it didn't scare the shit out of him. Nothing was more unnerving than the constant sense of danger, the screaming of his fight or flight response and the knowledge of knowing someone was watching him, without knowing where the hell they were.

        "Where you least expect me!"

        Suddenly, something grabbed him, the thing's momentum slamming him into unforgiving metal. His cry was a half choked gasp as all the air got knocked out of his lungs by what had definitely at least fractured his ribs. Then, before he could recover, he was soaring up, up, up, rapidly getting way too high above the city for his liking.

        As soon as he was able to breathe again, he wasn't. The massive talons curled around his torso and midsection began to constrict. He let out a strangled scream as the pressure turned fractured into definite breaks...the Angel may not have been taking his sweet time, but he clearly relished crushing Golden Stinger's ribcage. The crunching of his precious tech at his back was almost more painful than the physical crushing of the hero himself and his fear ramped up tenfold realizing that he didn't have his wings anymore. His scream petered out due to the thinning oxygen. With any luck, he thought dully, he had managed to break the villain's oxygen mask so he couldn't be up here very long either. 

        Tubbo's ears popped sharply, making him whine in pain. His brain was torn completely between I need to get out of and back to the ground! and Holy fuck that's really high please don't let go please don't let go I'm gonna die!

In conclusion: Tubbo was completely helpless. Checkmate.

        The Angel of Death dropped him and Tubbo could feel something pop. He was falling faster than he could process, the stabbing feeling in his ears piercing all the way through his head.

————

       He was never meant to get caught in the cross fire. J Schlatt, the mayor of the city, Tubbo’s dad was never meant to get caught in the crossfire. “Dad? Dad- dad no, wake up please. Dad wake up. What are you doing? What are you doing?! Wake up!”

        “I’m here- I’m- I’m here, just- h-hang on. I don’t feel to good.”

        “Ok. Ok that’s fine. You’re gonna- “ You’re gonna be fine. He’s not gonna be fine. Oh god. Oh god, he had to do this now. He had to do this now before- before- “Dad?" Tubbo voice broke before he could even begin the rest of the sentence. "You know I love you right? You’ve been an amazing dad and I love you more than anything else in the world, dad- “ he was sobbing. He couldn’t help it. His brain wasn't fully processing that this was happening but at the same time he knew, more clearly than he had known anything before, his dad was dying and Tubbo couldn't save him. 

        The man's breathing was ragged. He seemed to be trying to form words but realizing that it wasn't working. Schlatt’s hands were raised weakly, trying to do something, combing through his hair and Tubbo was crying, forehead pressed to his. You need to know. Please, you need to know. I need to stop this. I can’t stop it. I need to- The hands fell away from his face. “No! No no no no, please-“ there was no more movement, not even blinking. Schlatt’s face was already becoming ashen, at some point all the warmth had faded from his skin. He was smiling.

;;

Someone. Is going. To pay.

————

(Ranbob captures Tubbo and straight up shoots him)

      “I told you to stay in the car!” Was the first thing Ranboo expected to hear as he managed to stumble out of the wrecked vehicle, adrenaline drunk grin stretched across his face. The hero would be laughing as he said it, already knowing what was coming next, or he’d be upset at Ranboo for endangering himself, which was equally endearing, of course.

        “I did,” they would reply. But they didn’t. As soon as they saw the lifeless body slumped in the chair, the grin fell and he was stumble-running to Golden Stinger’s side.

         Ranboo’s mind only barely had the time to register that the person behind the shattered mask of the city’s most beloved hero is Tubbo. His head really hurts and his ears are still ringing from when the airbags deployed—they might have broken some of his bones, who knows? What’s important is that over there, laying on the ground burned and bleeding and motionless is Tubbo. His Tubbo, who is so brilliantly smart, so kind, funny and brave-

        -And absolutely cannot be dying right now what do they do?! He didn’t know. He didn’t know and his hands were shaking so badly he would have dropped any tools if he had them. “There is going to be one that makes your hands tremble. There are going to be ones that you can’t save, no matter how good of a surgeon you are.” That’s what his med school teacher had told them once. But that couldn’t be now. Please please—for the love of Prime don’t let it be now, no NO! It can’t! His mind takes too long to catch up, but finally he pulls out his phone, almost dropping it and speed dials Ran. “Ran! I need your help right fucking now! Get your ass over here and bring the totem!” It might be too late. By the time he gets here it might be too late for the totem, it might be too late for the golden apple hidden at Ranboo’s apartment, it might already be too late. In a hurry, Ranboo puts his hand on the hero’s chest. He’s still breathing. They don’t remove their hand.

        But there’s something soft looking and strange floating near where the car crashed that makes Ranboo leave Tubbo’s side. They recognized it immediately. There’s nothing in the world that’s like- like whatever that is, and knowing what they and the villains have been chasing after this whole time, Ranboo knows immediately what it is. He reaches the car and it pauses, then begins to float serenely over to him like it knows they're there. It’s…mesmerizing.

        It makes nausea roll in his gut and he forces himself to stay in the moment. The Blue can’t seem to decides whether to be a fine mist or a thick, heavy cloud. It stretches out in every direction, but particularly towards Ranboo and somewhere under the car. It’s only on instinct that he doesn’t reach out and touch it, instead, he wanders around to the other side of the car (the Blue following him) and stops. There’s a body. A bloody one. Ranboo knew they must have interrupted someone’s nefarious plot, that someone must have shot Tubbo, but they didn’t think they'd run right into them.

        Good.

        The person actually looks… familiar…

        “Ranboo…” he croaks weakly.

        Oh. “Ranbob?” What the hell is doing here?! Since when did he get here?! Was he the one who-

        “Help me…☊⍜⎍⌇⟟⋏…” They could help him. He’s mostly crushed, but he’s salvageable if he gets help now. Ran is on his way.

        Ranboo examines the area around Ranbob. It appears that the last of the Blue is leaking out of a smashed bottle. Probably best not to touch it. What can he use… Ah, there’s a water bottle in the car. Ranboo dumps the rest of the water out of it and just kinda- holds it out to the Blue floating towards him. They have no idea how to capture it or if that would work, assuming it wouldn’t, but it’s like it all gets sucked into the container once the first bit got inside.

        Ok then. Good. Ranboo closes the lid on the bottle just as Ran pops into existence next to him. They don’t let their older brother see their cousin's body, just points adamantly towards Tubbo and wheezes something like, “There, over there, him-“ (the pain is starting to catch up to them) and suddenly they’re beside him in a flurry of purple. Ran let go of his younger brother in order to scoop Tubbo up in his arms, then they were gone again, reappearing in Ranboo’s apartment.

Ranboo had blood on his hands.

[moobloom-mention]

Life is Unfair (But I'd Do Anything to Make it Fair for You)

Part 1 || Part 2

Summary: Quackity considers himself a simple creature. As long as his heart beats strong and his duckling remains tucked in his arms, he couldn't be happier.

So where the fuck is his duckling?

Content warnings: Cursing. Mentions of violence. Mentions of physical abuse. Kidnapping.

Word Count: 3777 words

----------

Family.

Such an odd word to describe the predicament he'd found himself within. It was vague, as though scared to imply the vulnerability necessary to lay the foundations of one.

It forbade the acknowledgement of heart-felt confessions, dismissing of harsh words bound to be exchanged between those trapped under the weight of its mutters.

How terrifying it was that an adjective was needed to specify a family's circumstance.

Perfect. Rocky. Tolerable.

Quackity never thought he'd be the one to place himself amidst a broken one.

But he'd been prey to the soft promises of love and affirmation, content to drown beneath its crashing waves for a ram who'd never cared for him and a nestling who's soft babbles and love made up for the other's absence of it.

It's remarkable such a heartless bastard had produced a sweet soul like Tubbo in the first place.

"Sweet duckling," Quackity had cooed during his first months of staying with Schlatt, content with the then two-year-old swaddled safely within his wings. He'd been enamored the moment the toddler stumbled into the front yard to greet him- a stranger at the time -with a smiling face and grabbing hands.

A part of him lies ashamed of how fondly he looks back on the first few years of Tubbo's life. It'd been easier back then, when Quackity could bare the brunt of Schlatt's anger and not have to worry about Tubbo processing his father's unforgiving words.

But time had never favored Quackity.

So Tubbo grew.

His adoration for his duckling hardly stuttered, heart swelling every time he'd scratch a new height-record into the front-doors frame. Schlatt had grumbled about it at the time, but Quackity was hardly about to erase years worth of progress because of the ram's anger issues.

He can still recall the day Tubbo stumbled down the stairs of the cottage amidst Quackity readying breakfast for the first time, rubbing his eyes as he called for the avian.

"I wanna help," the four-year-old yawned, expression having twisted into one of determination.

He couldn't have said no if he'd tried.

Quackity never mentioned how quickly Tubbo's demands to help transformed from a place of care to a bittersweet need to prove himself. His duckling had begun to use cooking as a distraction from anger, and Quackity found no problem in such a thing.

Eventually, Tubbo began to bypass the idea of cooking, racing outside in pursuit of roaming the cottage's front yard. It was a small thing, but enough for the young duckling to exert his energy with.

Tubbo never thought that Quackity would take notice of his habit of fleeing outside after particularly loud nights of arguments.

A break from cooking was healthy, anyway. There'd been more than a handful of times that Tubbo sprung a heart-aching question whilst helping with breakfast.

"Do you wish you'd never met Father?"

Quackity had sat, stunned as he frantically pulled together a response. "No, no," he murmured, having kneeled to Tubbo's height. "What made you think that?"

Tears had already begun to flood the six-year-old's eyes. "You and Father only ever fight and yell and-"

"Oh sweetheart," he interrupted, having moved to gentle wipe aside stray tears. "If I hadn't met him, I would've never been able to meet the most loving duckling in the world."

"Really?"

"Mhm," Quackity agreed as he stood from his knelt position. "Now come help me cook breakfast. You've always been better at whisking eggs than me-"

If it'd been up to him, Schlatt would've disappeared from the picture a long time ago.

But Quackity wasn't built for protecting a duckling from the surrounding forest. Not the mention the eyebrows that'd raise over an avian traveling with a young ram-hybrid.

Even if good for nothing else, Schlatt had always provided a roof over his son's head and a steady stream of food. There might be days he'd been tempted to strangle the man, but at least Schlatt knew how to provide the bear minimum for his "family".

Not for long at the rate their funds had been depleting as of recent; just another argument to pair with dinner this evening. Why aim for a second source of protein when Quackity could get his daily dose of adrenaline by attempting to have a civil conversation?

He snorts. As if "Schlatt" and "civil" could appear in the same sentence.

It's the reason Quackity had been so flustered when he awoke to Tubbo staring at him with wide, doe-like eyes. There was an empty glint in his gaze, far too reminiscent of the way he'd stare at Schlatt- with longing? Bitterness? Prime knows what Tubbo could hide beneath a blank expression -after an argument between his parents.

His heart had lurched, trapped within his throat over the possibility of Schlatt having done something whilst Quackity was asleep.

He never thought he'd be so relieved to hear the words "-a nightmare-" in his life.

He'd frantically attempted to calm his thudding heart as he mauled over his options. Nightmares, unfortunately, weren't an uncommon occurrence beneath the roof of the cottage. Even Schlatt had fostered his own set during the first years of their relationships, creating nights when Quackity would waste time lying awake just in case the ram awoke in a cold sweat.

Even still a soft voice coos that he'd done it only because Schlatt wasn't such a dick during those years, but Quackity would be a fool to of not noticed the furious glares the ram would douse his son in when he thought the avian wasn't looking.

The short excuse of "puppy love" is the only thing that affords the avian an inch of his dignity back. If he squints, he can probably pair Tubbo's existence with the excuse.

Having a duckling to watch over made it far too easy to roll over and concede, helpful even to those undeserving of it.

Of course, it was always Quackity's own choice when it came down to the discussion of arguments. He refuses to place blame on Tubbo for every time he'd accepted Schlatt's hand for the sake of appeasing the ram, every time he'd verbally confessed and apologized for a fuck-up that hadn't even been his in the first place.

If nothing else, he was a simple creature with only two things he needed in life to be happy.

A beating heart, and Tubbo safely in his wings.

It's the reason he finds himself in the kitchen once again, unbothered by the flour coating his shirt as he tosses dough. His duckling had always voiced his appreciation for Quackity's biscuits, and he'd be damned if the young ram didn't get some after a nightmare had forced him to seek comfort.

He ensures to make a small square in the middle of each cut-out, Tubbo having always voiced his liking for his biscuits to be filled with strawberry jam.

"You could always spread it on top," Quackity had first suggested, stupidly having offered the ram the treat donning a light spread of strawberry jelly. One flung biscuit later and the avian had learned his lesson.

In spite of the biscuits having just barely been placed within their wood-driven oven, he finds himself floating toward the pantry in search for Tubbo's jam.

Quackity's rummage through their mix of jams pauses mid-way through, feathers ruffling at the idea of having run out of strawberry jam. It couldn't have been right, he'd just had Schlatt ride into town specifically to grab some for Tubbo.

He can't seem to find Schlatt's favorite grape jam either.

His eyebrows furrow- now that he thinks about it, the pantry does seem empty.

He could've sworn their last shopping trip was barely a week ago.

Schlatt? his instincts suggest, irritated.

Quackity can't put such an odd habit past the ram. Prime knows what this year's late autumn had done to Schlatt's snacking behavior.

He tries not to dwell on it too much, flocking back toward the living room in the hopes of finding his crochet needles. Tubbo's birthday isn't due until February, but it's no excuse to not start on presents now.

Maybe he'd like a new scarf? It'd still be useful come February- it was April when the weather truly began to feel like spring.

Or maybe a new plushie would be good. Kind of like the one that's sitting right...there?

Quackity tilts his head, eyes locking on a light grey donkey resting behind the back of the couch. He'd be an idiot not to recognize it as one of Tubbo's favorite toys, one that Schlatt had shockingly bought for Tubbo unprompted.

That night, the cottage found peace within its walls.

But there still wasn't an explanation as to what it was doing down here.

Tubbo wouldn't have returned upstairs without it, or at the very least would've come back down to grab it within the few minutes of him being back in bed.

Quackity can't stop the nervous chirp that crawls up his throat, eyes fleeing toward the stairwell as he grips the donkey within his hand. "Tubbo?" he calls, carefully making his way up the steps. He's sure Schlatt will whine about it later, but for now that's the least of the avian's concerns.

A nervous trill leaves his throat when he doesn't receive a response, not even a snore stemming from the room.

Prime, please don't do this to me.

Tubbo's door creaks open.

"Tubbo? I made you biscuits if you want to-"

Tubbo's bed lies empty.

Duckling-duckling-where-is-he?

He has to admit, of all the things Quackity had thought would happen today, breaking down the door to Schlatt's bedroom hadn't been one of them. As satisfying as it is to see how easily his foot tears into the rotting wood, it's Schlatt's startled expression that truly sets his nerves alight.

Tubbo isn't with him.

"What the fuck-?"

Quackity barely registers how animalistic he must look pacing about the room, chirping as he pushes back the room's furniture.

It feels like a twisted game of hide-and-seek, only with true fear striking the avian's lungs instead of feigned concern for a "missing" duckling.

Gone-gone-duckling's-gone.

Tubbo's gone and it's all Quackity's fault.

A hand grabs his shoulder, earning Schlatt a hiss as his wing swats the limb away.

"What's got your feathers in a twist?" the ram has the audacity to grunt, his expression a mix of fury and worry. "It's hardly even morning-"

The avian whirls. "If you could get that stick out of your ass for once," Quackity snarls, his search long-forgotten in place of jabbing a finger into Schlatt's chest.

"Our son is missing."

Schlatt blinks, fury fading into a blank expression.

It takes everything him not to slap the ram into motion. Instead, he clenches his teeth together in an attempt to appear put-together. "I need to know. Are you going to stand there like a useless fuck-" he seethes, uncaring about the tears beginning to blur his vision, "-or are you going to help me find him?"

It's almost unnerving to see that Schlatt's capable of a shocked expression. "You've checked upstairs-?"

"Everywhere."

"Fuck."

Quackity's heart twists.

"Don't-" he finds himself pleading. "Don't just say that."

He can't promise Schlatt will be alive if the ram doesn't start searching in the next five seconds. "Just go double-check for me? To- to make sure I didn't miss him."

The sound of thundering footsteps had never sounded so heavenly.

Quackity forces himself to rummage through the bedroom again, cooing in the hopes to earn at least something in return. He faintly hears the clicking of the front door, anxiety seizing his lungs.

Surely Tubbo wouldn't have run off into the forest, right? He'd raised his duckling better than that.

"Quackity!"

The avian's racing downstairs in an instant, relief flooding his system as trills fill the air.

Oh, thank prime- he's been found. He's alright, and fine, and goddamnit he's never leaving Quackity's sight for the next week-

He can't contain the flinch as an arm grabs his middle, wings flaring against the familiar wall of Schlatt's chest.

Oh. He'd made it outside.

Still, "What are you-? Where is-?"

For a moment it feels as though the life had been drained from him.

A simple avian, the wind mocks.

Quackity's heart thuds against his chest- still healthy as it'd ever been.

You only need two things, hm?

Quackity's heart beats strong.

But there are small footprints leading beyond the cottage's picket-fence.

And his wings are empty.

"No, please, he-"

In a blink of an eye, Quackity finds himself kneeling on the ground, Schlatt right beside him as gut-wrenching sobs stab through his throat. Hot flashes of anger riot through him, slapping furiously at the ram's chest. The restricting hands only tighten with each incoming hit.

"Let go-" he demands, shrieking as fingers begin to thread themselves through his mess of ruffled feathers. He knows Schlatt- for once his god-forsaken life -is attempting to calm him as quickly as he can. He can't imagine his red face and furious screams are a pretty scene.

But his duckling is in trouble.

"-you're upset-"

Oh Prime, he's failed his duckling, he's failed-he'sfailedhe'sfailed-

"-can't help him if-"

Tubbo must be terrified, stumbling in the forest crying for Quackity to save him.

"-you're upset-"

Quackity forces air into his lungs, jerking sideways as he attempts to focus on Schlatt's mantra.

"You can't help him if you're upset," the ram murmurs, his hand having moved from Quackity's wing to his mess of black hair. "You can't help him-"

"If I'm upset," the avian whispers, head still pounding as the onslaught of tears refuse to let up. "But my duckling-"

Schlatt hums, "He's still out there, waiting for you."

Quackity's stomach churns.

Duckling-duckling-duckling-needs-help.

"But he needs you to be thinking straight."

Oh fuck that.

And yet he forces his wings to grow still.

"I'm calm," Quackity forces out between panicked breaths. "I'm calm."

"You're calm," Schlatt agrees. His grip begins to loosen, giving the avian more space to move around in.

"I'm-"

Quackity suddenly twists, unforgiving as he slams his knee into the ram's face. There's a loud cry of pain before the avian scrambles to his feet, forcing his wings flat on his back as he takes off across the yard.

Wings were great for avians with proportionate wings, god-awful for those forced to remain grounded their entire life.

He barely pays mind to Schlatt's frantic yells as he reaches the tree line, gasping for breath with every step he takes.

It's stupid- it's impulsive but he's getting his goddamn duckling back whether Schlatt likes it or not. And considering that grabbing the horse from the barn was at least an eight-minute venture, it's safe to assume that he won't have to fear outrunning a horse.

Floods of anger only encourage Quackity's sprint, the emotions mix with adrenaline conforming into one hell of a drug. He only wishes it wasn't so taxing on his energy levels.

He's barely counted to 500 before his body screams for him to slow, his sprint carefully falling into a hurried walk.

He wants to be furious- with himself, with the situation, toward Schlatt mostly.

The ram hadn't even shed a few tears, as though he'd been disinterested in the scene of faking his grief.

Prime, when- and he means when -he gets Tubbo back, Schlatt will never be seeing the light of day again.

That man had lived seven years too many.

But the anger does little to quell the anxiety stirring within Quackity's chest. He'd heard plenty of stories about their cottage's forest- filled with faes and creatures willing to rip the heads of those who passed them.

Duckling-duckling-needs-safety-save-duckling

His instincts sure as hell aren't helping either.

But Quackity still pushes on, refusing to rest even as he passes quite a few comfortable-looking pits of moss. He has a duckling to find.

What if Schlatt's right? a part of his mind mutters a good hour into his journey. Tubbo's gone.

The avian inhales sharply.

No, Tubbo's...strong. He'd been raised by Quackity, damnit. Having such a caretaker is almost considered rule one in survival. He just needs to keep his head up and walk.

The sun's beginning to lower itself when the avian finds himself stumbling forward. He lets himself collapse amidst grass, tears conquering his vision as he simply lays there.

Maybe the world would be kind enough to let him sink into the soil, disappear before he stumbles upon what's left of his duckling. Then he won't be so desperate to hear the sweet voice of Tubbo calling for him.

"Q!"

Now that's just cruel.

Quackity finds it within himself to roll onto his stomach, forcing himself away from where he'd briefly been resting.

"Q, please-" the voice calls again.

He freezes. That couldn't have been a coincidence.

"Where are you?"

Safe-safe-safe, his instincts sob, relieved.

It takes everything within Quackity not to respond to his duckling's cries, blood roaring in his ears as he swallows back the mantra of here-I'm-here-sweet-thing-it's-alright-I've-found-you-I've-found-you.

Instead, he finds himself seeking cover within a bush, eyes wide with uncertainty.

"Q!" Tubbo cries again, tone more strangled than previously.

"Hey, none of that-" a new voice begins.

Quackity's heart drops.

Fuck.

The avian forces his feather to lay flat, poking his head up in a desperate attempt to locate his son and whatever poor creature had just attempted to scold the ram.

Surely enough, not far from Quackity's position stands Tubbo, with glassy eyes and tears visible even from where the avian crouches. His small hand is fastened within a bigger one, belonging to a human with brown hair and round glasses.

The stranger's expression twists into something akin to kindness as he kneels, legs far too long for the movement to of been comfortable. Yet, the man still goes through with bending to Tubbo's eye-level before holding the ram's other hand. His mouth moves, forcing Quackity to move closer to catch the soft words tumbling through the air.

"We'll find him," the stranger seems to murmur. "He wouldn't just leave behind a cute thing like you, would he?"

Tubbo's head shakes violently.

"See?" the man presses a kiss to Tubbo's forehead. "I bet he's out looking for you right now, hm?"

"Yeah," comes the quiet affirmation. It's tight, far too similar to Tubbo's usual response whenever Schlatt would ask him a question.

The stranger must've noticed the odd response as well, grip visibly tightening as he rises to his feet.

Then something odd happens.

A chirp fills the air.

Crows-hello-hi-find-Dad?

Quackity barely registers the sentence before his wings begin to flare.

Wrong-wrong-wrong.

The notes feel torturous filling the avian's ears, far too off-key to belong to someone of his species.

That wasn't- this stranger can't be an avian.

Oh Prime, it's a fae.

"Q makes those funny noises," Tubbo murmurs from the clearing.

No-no-no, his instincts whine, too caught up in the thought of making such horrendous music.

"Oh?" the stranger- the fae questions, as though it were new information. Quackity suppresses a flinch as Tubbo's lifted into the air and saddled at the fae's side, the brunet's free hand comes to squeeze at his duckling's cheeks.

"You must be his little nestling then, hmm?"

Quackity kneels, eyes narrowing as he watches the fae carefully.

"That certainly changes our tactics-"

His duckling cries out in pain.

It's the final straw, Quackity lunging in a desperate swipe for the young ram. There's a flash of light as the fae and Tubbo disappear, reappearing only a few feet from the avian's aggressive stance.

"There you are," it grins, a sick satisfaction in its eyes.

"Put him down," Quackity demands, forcing himself not to glance toward Tubbo's startled expression.

The fae only tightens its grip. "And if I don't?"

"Then I'll-"

"What, step on my foot?" the fae laughs.

"Oh, Q," it coos, taking a step closer. "You don't know just how fucked you are, do you?"

No, his mind grunts. But names had yet to be thrown about; he can only beg to hold a bargaining chip.

"Wilbur-" Tubbo whimpers as the fae- Wilbur -sets the ram on the ground. His duckling almost instantly moves toward the avian's side, Quackity stumbling forward as though he were attempting to protect an exposed nerve.

"Ah, ah, ah," Wilbur tuts, grabbing the scruff of Tubbo's shirt. "No so fast, Duckie."

Quackity forces himself to still, content searching valiantly for injuries on the other.

"So protective," Wilbur sighs wistfully, "Just like a mother hen. Tubbo truly spoke highly of you."

A twinge of pride stirs within his gut- not over the idea of being spoken highly of, but instead of the idea that the fae had yet to hold distinct power over his duckling.

"Let go of my son," Quackity demands, forcing the tremble from his voice. "Then we can go our separate ways without your head ending up on a spike."

Wilbur's expression twists into a nasty smile, an unsettling contrast between his joyous laughter. "Oh, but Tubbo doesn't want to come home with you, isn't that right? It was your fault in the first place he came running right into my little brother's arms."

Tubbo makes a noise of disapproval.

"It's alright, sweetheart. You just wanted a brand-new life for you and Q, hmm? One without the big bad ram involved?"

Quackity's breath stutters. Goddamn his sweet duckling, ever the bleeding heart.

"I'm not sacrificing him for a better life," the avian quickly snarls, bracing himself to the fae's demeanor to change.

But Wilbur only nods, feigning a dramatic sigh. "Oh no, duckie, that's quite alright. He's already done that for you.

"Toby, would you be a good boy and sit for me?"

Tubbo kneels.

No.

No no no-

Nonononononono-

Quackity chokes back a sob.

"You tried your best," Wilbur murmurs, as though his words are meant to be comforting. "I just found him first."

It's not fair-

"I will say, though. I do hate breaking apart families."

Quackity's breath hitches.

"Maybe we could swing a deal?"

Tears stream from his duckling's cheek.

"Promise-" Quackity forces out. "Promise me no harm will come to him. Ever."

Wilbur pauses, an odd expression crossing his face. It could've been that the fae hadn't expected it to be so easy to swing such a deal.

Quackity wasn't stupid- he'd lost the moment Tubbo left the cottage. Now all he could hope for was his duckling's safety.

"Toby's sworn protection in exchange for your name?"

The avian nods, extending a hand. The fae almost instantly seizes it, a smile on his face.

"You've got yourself a deal..."

"Quackity."

"Quackity." Wilbur grins. "Pleasure doing business with you."

[trenchcoatsbi]

even though canon me is a soulfire member BOLAS FOR LIFEEEEE- q!pac anon

also a canon soulfire but raghgh bolas!! BOLAS!!! grahghgh those guys are so… just shjdjkjdjd i love them