tommyinnit oneshots

cannibal tubbo 👍

If tubbo was the cannibal in this. Tubbo got mad at dream for what he did. All platonic!

This is kinda a continuation of dream killing Tommy but if Tommy was revived and not a ghost and he got out and dream was locked up but escaped so Tubbo went after him and did the same thing dream did to Tommy to him. 👍

Tubbos insane and this is a mostly tubbo centric.

L

"...and yeah! That's why I ate Schlatt's heart."

It was a nice night. The stars were shining brightly. The sky was clear save for the faint haze that drifted over the moon as it shone milky white on to Snowchester, which was still and quiet and at peace after yet another in a long line of soft, easy days.

Tubbo was out on the mansion's back balcony with Quackity. They stepped out for a moment to get some fresh air. Tubbo needed a break from all the noise of the family movie night that Michael had insisted his "uncle" Quackity be invited too, so yes Quackity needed a cigarette.

"Don't ever smoke, Tubbo." The man had told him sternly as he flicked open his silvery lighter.

"But you look so cool when you do it!" Tubbo had giggled, leaning back a bit while his calloused hands gripped the balcony railing.

"No," Quackity said scornfully, " I look like a loser who're gonna get lung cancer. Don't start. Promise?"

Tubbo had hummed and given a little nod. "Mhm. Promise."

Somehow, talk of the dangers of smoking gradually faded into them talking about Manburg. With Manburg, they had to talk about Jschlatt and their time together on the cabinet. That led to sometimes fond, mostly very bitter reminiscing about memories of harsh screams and dirty words that were often followed by a sharp slap or a loud thud or the shattering of amber-colored glass that Tubbo always had to pick off of the rug later.

It wasn't nice to talk about it. But it was better than keeping it all bottled up until he could taste it creeping up his throat like thick blood leaking from a lung that'd been punctured by a broken rib. That happened to Quackity one time when Schlatt got a little "carried away", as it were.

"Happy he's dead," Tubbo said softly. There wasn't any softness in the words, though.

Quackity agreed. "Yeah. me too."

"I think...I think that it's pretty cool. That you ate his heart."

That got Quackity to chuckle. "Cool?" He repeated. The pink slash that ran through his lips down from his milky eye stretched as his teeth peeked out into the moonlight. He smiled and lightly tilted his head. "What makes you say that?"

"I dunno," Tubbo admitted with a small shrug. "I just think that it's...oh...what's the word, uh-"

He struggled. His brow stitched together. He drummed his fingers on the wooden railing impatiently as he scrambled for the word that he needed. When he found it, his breath came out in a frosty puff in front of his face as he beamed, looked back up at Quackity, and rocked back on his cloven hooves as he quickly snapped his fingers.

"Poetic!" He declared loudly.

Quackity raised a brow. "Poetic?"

Tubbo nodded and continued on very earnestly. "Yeah! It-it's like that poetic justice thing that people're always going on about. In books and shit, y'know? Schlatt, he was a dick. He was-he was a fucking monster who hurt so many people all because he thought it made him strong and that him being strong made whatever he did alright."

I know someone else like that. A few someones, actually. How's prison, dickhead? Hope you two assholes have fun, living it up in your fancy commune. I hope those dogs eat you someday!