Ranboo didn't remember much of his childhood. He mostly remembered glimpses. He remembered the dark endless sky void of stars, he remembered the comforting coolness of the air, he remembered a strange light purple block that he never saw again.
But he had a childhood. He knew that.
He frowned, looking at the small golden band around his finger, his thoughts going towards the two other teenagers talking amongst themselves somewhere in the land.
He hadn't known either of them for long, maybe about a year, but he was told stories of their poor excuse for a childhood.
Since they were twelve, they fought in a war that they should never have been a part of.
They were forced to grow up by age fourteen, because they had just won a nation.
But they paid several sacrifices for it.
Schlatt took power when they were fifteen, and Tommy had to watch the man who fought by his side—the man he always stated with confidence was his brother—lose his sanity.
They both watched their home get destroyed.
Ranboo arrived not too long after their sixteenth birthdays, and the rest is history.
He heard their voices now. He sensed them nearby.
These kids never got the childhood they needed...that's probably why they cling so hard to each other, even after everything they've done to each other. They're really all they have left when it comes to their poor excuse for a childhood.....
On Tubbo's bedside table sat a picture frame, with him, Tommy, and who Ranboo assumed was Wilbur.
They looked young—Tubbo and Tommy. The three of them were wearing some sort of revolutionary outfit, with a slightly torn flag—the L'manburg flag, Ranboo recognized—waving in the distance. They were all smiling.
They were genuinely happy.
Where did those children go?
What did time do to them?
Tubbo still has what little remains of the original flag—the one in the picture. He never told anyone about it, not even Tommy. Hell, Ranboo wasn't sure that Tubbo knew that he knew.
But inside Tubbo's Ender chest, at the very bottom, was a small piece of fabric, torn and burned. It wasn't much, but the black, yellow, white, and the the start of a red X was still noticeable.
Ranboo frowned. If he could change the course of history, he would. He didn't care If it led to him never meeting Tubbo, or them never finding Michael.
He just wished that Tommy and Tubbo had a better childhood.
Part of him wished that Wilbur never died.
Part of him wished that none of this ever happened.
But wishing does no good.
~<•>~
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DSMP oneshots
FanfictionWill there be fluff? Yes Will there be angst? Definitely Will there be oneshots that go from one to the other (fluff to angst and vice versa)? Absolutely Will there be smut? Fuck no, I don't write that shit Will there be cursing? Hell yes, so keep y...
