Oneshots

Louder Than The Crack In The Bell

Tubbo was quiet, and Tommy was loud.

Tommy was big smiles and sharp laughs, crude jokes and playful teasing. Tommy dragged Tubbo behind him, puffing out his chest and bragging about how great he was. Tubbo smiled and nodded, just happy to be at his side.

Tommy boasted about his collection of music discs and his house that he had built all by himself. He showed him his skills with a sword. He brought him into a battle against a near-unbeatable foe. He was reckless, and so was Tubbo, and together they brought the world to its knees.

At the end of the day, they sat as music played to the sunset. Tommy wrapped his arm around his friend. Tubbo never mentioned that it always hurt his ears.

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Tubbo was quiet, and Wilbur was loud.

Wilbur was everything Tommy was not. He had a honeyed voice that buttered people up in all the right places. He never seemed out of place in a situation. He used song to make people feel when his words failed.

Wilbur spun tales of freedom and independence, of wars and honour and glory. He weaved a web that ensnared them all, then reeled them into the kingdom he called L'Manberg. Tubbo trailed along, addicted to the drug they call hope.

Wilbur gave him a meaningless title and superficial power, and piles demands on top of him. He looked down like he's nothing, and passed through him like he's a ghost. Tubbo huddled as Tommy's shadow fell over him and doesn't say that he's never believed the poisonous lies their leader spits.

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Tubbo was quiet, and Schlatt was loud.

Schlatt was many things, and Tubbo never knew which one to believe.

Was he the senile man Tubbo dragged out of the river? The man that coughed up soot and coal dust, the man who sometimes struggled to stand from the black that seeped into his lungs. Was he frail, weak, forgetful? The man who patted his shoulder and wiped his tears, and told him it was all going to be alright?

Or was he the man that single-handedly managed to destroy a nation's identity, who looked upon people as tools and assets? The man who's golden eyes could search souls to find weakness, and abuse it until they shattered? Was he the man who made Tubbo arrange his own funeral?

Perhaps he was both, or neither. Perhaps he was something Tubbo could never understand. He bit his tongue and kept his head down, and never, never spoke out of line.

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Tubbo was quiet and Techno was loud.

Techno had a monotone voice and deadpan humour that never failed to make them laugh. Techno had a cape that he draped over their shoulders when they got cold. Techno had potatoes that nourished them when they were hungry, and a will stronger than netherite. Tubbo felt safe by his side.

Techno had an invite, and Techno had weapons. Techno had a laugh that resounded throughout the festival, as he pretended that the water pressing into his lungs meant anything, and jokes that never pressed too far. He enjoyed the festival, and Tubbo couldn't help but feel proud of his handiwork.

Techno had a crossbow and a deal with the devil. He had trepidation, but it didn't matter. He still pulled the trigger. Techno had fireworks that shimmered and glittered in red, white and blue, blood and bone and tears. They rang in his ears even as he respawned.

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Tubbo was quiet, and the world was so, so loud.

And no-one heard it breaking him.

Hey guys, sorry for not updating in ages, school's really been hitting me hard recently. I'll try and get more oneshots out as quickly as I can.

Also, 1k reads?! Thank you guys for putting up with my drabbles n shit, I'm so sorry that I haven't written much recently. I don't deserve you guys. 

Love you all, see you in the next chapter.

- Sea Sparrow