DreamSMP one-shots ||

// I would do something (if it wasn't all so effortful) //

(A/N) Two updates in one day?? Wild

Here's a beeduo angst, hurt/comfort fic I posted on my Ao3 - (@/inkstainzed)

Summary:
Tubbo has chronic pain. Things are difficult, but maybe, he'll find that accepting help isn't as bad as he thinks it is.

or, in which Tubbo has a bad pain day and has a breakdown out of frustration. Ranboo helps pick up the pieces, and also helps Tubbo realize that he deserves to bit a bit nicer to himself sometimes. hurt & comfort ensues.

Title isb "The Fall" by Lovejoy !

TW/CW: Hurt/comfort, angst, low self esteem, PTSD, mentioned implied/referenced past child abuse etc;

Be safe & take care of yourselves ! And ofc, comment if you enjoyed :)
~

Tubbo never liked letting his chronic pain hold him back.

Every day he'd go through the motions, working on one project or the other despite the way his joints and muscles would protest. They'd practically beg him for the rest he refused to give in to. He knew if he listened, if he gave his body what it needed, he might as well have been bed ridden for the rest of his life.

Tubbo didn't sit around. He always needed to be doing something, whether it was with his hands or using mechanical puzzles to weigh on his mind. He had to be doing something.

He tried, he really did. He'd tried to listen when Ranboo told him to rest, or when Tommy told him to take breaks. He tried to listen when they told him how important it was, and that overworking his body would only make him feel worse. Hell, they were right, of course they were— the bastards. They were right in the way he would come home feeling like nothing short of a walking corpse, and his head would spin as he'd fall into yet another migraine.

He just wished they weren't.

Often times he'd have to sneak out to be able to work, because if he didn't Ranboo would practically block the door. Tubbo was no match for Ranboo— not that Tubbo could ever take anyone in the condition he was in, he knew— or his pitying gaze or his kind embrace or the way he held Tubbo like he he knew exactly how to make him stay.

Some days he'd wake up with pain so great he'd think, maybe this is it, maybe this is how I die. Not being shot in war, or stabbed by the person who used me most or being blown up by fireworks. This is how I die— my own body finally giving in and deciding rotting in a bed is the horribly unpoetic death I deserve.

Today happened to be one of those days.

He'd been working all week on an automatic farm, the best one to ever be made in the whole server. He'd been putting his all into it, even going behind his friends' backs just so he could build and repair it. Really, it was only a matter of time before it came back to bite him in the ass.

He didn't like lying to his friends. He didn't like refusing their wishes when he knew they only wanted what was best for him. It was just that sometimes he felt like.. like they didn't understand. They didn't understand that when Tubbo just sits around like they want, his mind nearly threatens to eat him whole. He can't stop thinking, and he becomes so afraid that he thinks if his body doesn't finally turn over on him, maybe he will himself.

So he has to work. He has to keep busy, for his own sake.

When he blearily opens his eyes, the sun is slipping through the curtains of a window across from him enough to make him realize, it's late. He meant to wake up early— he always wakes up early, so he can get up and leave before Ranboo wakes up. But Ranboo isn't here, he's probably downstairs making food, and it's late.