Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

He can hear screaming. Some half aware part of his brain notes that. He sits, motionless and silent against the cold stone brick wall. His sword is gripped in his hand, health and strength potions ready in his pockets. He turns his head towards Yogurt's cot, tucked away under a hastily made tarp, smiling softly at the little kid who lay there, snoring softly. He stares back up at the night sky.

He can't sleep.

What if Schlatt  comes back? What if Fundy isn't awake enough to protect Yogurt? What is Yogurt gets hurt? What if? what if what if what if-His thoughts are cut off by the arrival of Quackity and Tubbo. Tubbo is supporting a limping, severely bruised Quackity and in his arms in a strangely shaped bundle that seemed to be... moving? 

Yogurt.

Tubbo was holding Yogurt.

Carefully, painstakingly, Fundy turns around to stare at Yogurt's cot. 

His empty cot.

So, if Yogurt was there, with Tubbo, that meant...
Who had Fundy been guarding?
Who was in his son's bed?

Tubbo sets Quackity on one of the disintegrating wooden stools - Quackity's eyes are blank and unblinking. He does not move.

"Tubbo!" Fundy shouts "Why do you have my son!"
Tubbo freezes. 
He looks confused.

"What do you mean, bossman? You left him in the office?" He questions.
Fundy tugs on his hair.

"No- I-. He was here. He's here. I wouldn't leave him- unless... No! I am better than Wilbur. But-"
With great effort, he shakes off his hysteria.

"No, Tubbo, Yogurt's been with me the entire night. We went home at about 5," Fear cracks his voice "Why do you have him?" 
Fundy leaps forward, putting his fox hybrid traits to use to gain and extra foot of distance. He grips Tubbo's collar, pulling Tubbo's face inches from his. Tubbo yells and steps back, gingerly cradling a broken shoulder. 

" Fundy, you're hurting me" He whispers
Fundy's sharp, fox-like teeth spring out from their usual place and he snarls.

"Who has been in here with me?"

"No- Fundy. I think you need to calm down." Tubbo starts "Let's take some breaths now, shall we? Can you explain to me what you think happened?" His tone is soft, maternal even. Fundy despises it.
"What happened, Tubbo, is that somebody took my kid. What the fuck is going on?"  He lets go of Tubbo's collar, and pushes the ram hybrid away from him. "Tell me!" He shouts. Quackity sits silently on the chair.

"Ok, Fundy." Tubbo takes a deep breath "How much sleep have you been getting? You know, with Wilbu-"

"I AM NOTHING LIKE HIM!" Fundy screeches animalistically, pure fox, no traces of humanity left in his voice, "I would rather die than be like him!"
Tubbo steps back, raising his uninjured hand in a placating gesture. 

"Fundy, I'm trying to help. You might be hallucinating; you've barely been sleeping." He pleads.
Fundy stares at Tubbo, and at Yogurt, who's asleep in his cot, and then at Yogurt again, who's sitting next to Quackity, and then at Yogurt, who's laughing by the fire, and at Yogurt who's laughing and at Yogurt, and at Yogurt, and at- He shakes his head and the laughing, manic versions of his child disappear, leaving only a sitting Yogurt behind on the sofa.
Fundy's knees give out.
He crashes to the ground.
Tubbo comes to him and carefully, gingerly puts his uninjured arm around him.

"Shhhh" He murmurs, "It's ok."

"I swore I wouldn't be like him." Fundy whispers into Tubbo's shoulder, voice thick with tears "I swore it."
Fundy grips Tubbo tightly, and then Tubbo lets out a yelp of pain.

"Fund, my shoulder-" he starts, but Fundy's already passing him a heath pot.
Tubbo drinks the potion and braces himself.
He screams and twists and wails, clawing at his burning skin. He collapses to the grassy ground as he feels his bones knit themselves back together, contorting his body in ways that felt like he was being twisted and pulled apart.
The pains stops.
Tubbo sits up and breathes freely, rotating his now healed shoulder.

"Fuck me. I forgot how much those bastards hurt."
Fundy remembers Quackity, slumped on a stool,

"Tubbo, what the hell happened to Quackity? Was it Schlatt? I'll fucking kill that bastard- I swear. If he-"
Tubbo sighs shakily.

"When is it not Schlatt? Oh god, it was so much worse this time, Fundy. Quackity- he-" Tubbo cuts himself off with a sob. "Schlatt, he was picking on me, calling me lazy and shit, you know what he's like"
Fundy nods

"And then- fuck- Quackity came in, he saw Schlatt about to beat the shit out of me and he- he-. He distracted him." 
Fundy feels ill. He doesn't want to ask, but he does anyway

"What did he do?"
Tubbo swallows, and his mouth has never felt drier

"He flirted with him. But not like normally, he, like, knelt in front of him and- he, um, he pretended he was jealous of Schlatt for all the attention Schlatt was giving me."
A growng sense of horrific realization dawns on Fundy.

"Tubbo?" He whispers "Tell me he didn't- Did he?"
It's silent.
Tubbo nods.

"He  did. Oh god, it was awful. I only saw the start, but he looked so scared, Fundy, and I couldn't help him." Tears are rolling down the ram hybrid's cheeks.
Fundy reaches out and pulls Tubbo close.

"Tubbo." He whispers into his hair,"You're fifteen."
Tubbo sobs, breaking down entirely. Quackity stirs from his daze at the sound.
He silently comes to sit by them, Yogurt in his cut arms, resting his head on Fundy's shoulder. Fundy wouldn't allow it on any other night, would shove the man off harshly, but- 
Well, it's not okay. They're not okay, on the night under the inky black sky. Just kids, trying to survive. So, if Fundy holds them all a little closer than normal, hugs them a little tighter, then that's no-one's business but their own.

Chapter Text

Tubbo is going to become an addict one day. Everyone around him is, why should he be any different? He's not particularly brave, or strong. He's just a stupid kid, but he does know the types of addicts to watch out for.

Fundy is a depressed addict. Fundy smokes, Tubbo knows. The fox hybrid has tried to keep Yogurt away from it at first, but now he just didn't care. He ties the toddler to a fence post with a lead, and sits there, puffing away, poisoning the young kid's lungs. He is perfectly content to sit and let life pass him by, as long as there's a little stick of poison clutched in his sharp teeth. Fundy once confided in Tubbo that large sections of his life are wiped from his memory; an eerie blankness where there had once been feelings.  Fundy is a depressed addict. 

Schlatt is an aggressive addict. Schlatt drinks and smokes, and does whatever else he can get his hands on, which isn't much now L'manburg is officially Manburg; Wilbur and Tommy took their drug business with them when they were exiled. Schlatt isn't mean though. He hits and screams and makes you hurt, leaves you bruised and bleeding on the floor (he once held Quackity's delicate wings to a furnace for hours,) but he's not mean. not like Wilbur, who, Tubbo knows from Tommy, is steadily going more and more off of the rails with each second spent down in that fucking ravine. Schlatt is an aggressive addict, but he's not mean. 

Quackity is a cruel addict. Quackity is addicted to cigarettes and cocaine. He never drinks. It reminds him too much of Schlatt. Quackity is vicious; he goes right for the most sensitive parts of you, digging in with verbal jabs that rip your self-esteem to pieces. He apologises later, as he staunches yet another bloody nose. He apologises, but it never sticks, and the next time the snow dusts his upper lip, he'll tear you to shreds yet again. It's an endless cycle of pain and guilt, pain and guilt and pain and guilt. It won't stop until one of them is dead. Quackity is a cruel addict, but he cares.

Vaguely, in a sort of detached way, Tubbo wonders what sort of addict he himself will be.
He decides to ask Tommy next time they meet.
                                      --------------------------------------------
It's a beautiful spring day, and Tubbo is sitting in a shitty, moldering crater. Tommy is slumped next to him, long since used to the damp smell of mildew that permeates every rotten inch of the air. It's silent when Tubbos asks his question.

"What?" Tommy says quizzically "What kind of addict? Hopefully none at all, Tubs. Why would you be an addict? We can't have my favourite friend becoming like Schlatt now ,can we , bitchboy?" His voice holds the airy tones of jest, but his words ring in Tubbo's mind.

'Becoming like Schlatt.'

God, Tubbo would rather throw himself off of one of Tommy's hideous cobblestone towers.
Tubbo is silent. Tommy's voice is tainted with worry.

"Tubbo? Are you ok? You're not an addict," his tone turns hesitant "Are you?"
Tubbo laughs bitterly.

"I will be. One day." His hand flashed briefly, showing he's accessing his inventory. He rolls a small white cancer stick in between his fingers. "I will be."

"Tubbo- What? What are you talking about? Is everything Ok?" Tommy asks desperately

"It's a fact of life, Tommy. Everyone around me is an addict, so I will be one as well." Tubbo replies, tone matter of fact and resigned. He lists on his fingers "Fundy an addict, Quackity's an addict, Wilbur's an addict, Schlatt's literally the textbook definition of an addict. Hell, even you! You're addicted to those fucking golden apples." His tone turns accusatory "And don't try and pretend you aren't! You're literally high right now!"
Tommy flushes. His pupils are unnaturally big, and his skin has an eerie false radiance, in contrast to it's normal sun-starved pallor.

"That doesn't mean you're going to be an addict! You're Tubbo. You're the most innocent person I know!" Tommy says in disbelief.
Tubbo stands up. 

"Everyone always says that! 'Oh but you're Tubbo', as though it makes everything better, as though it just stops hurting because it lets them pretend everything's ok. Well, guess what? I'm not a child, I grew up faster than other kids! I fucking survived so much shit. Tommy, stop treating me like I'm some naive kid who doesn't know how the world works! I know you think I'm a kid, I know you think I'm just the funny friend, but I still feel this! It still hurts. If I'm old enough to have Schlatt do what he does to me, I'm old enough to have a fucking smoke if I feel like it!" Tubbo stops, panting. Tommy shrunk back into the rough stone.

A slow clap echoes throughout the cavern. Wilbur stands there, a cigarette clutched in his grip.

"Bravo, Tubbo." he jeers sarcastically. "Please, don't stop on my account. Where were you?"
Tubbo stops, glancing at Tommy, who's completely frozen, staring wide-eyed at Wilbur.

"Ah yes." Wilbur hums. "Addiction."

The air goes still.

"It's a funny thing, isn't it." He stalks towards them "You think it's all going ok, that you can control it, you can stop whenever but then-." He leaps forward, landing hard on the stone with a loud bang! He snatches the cigarette from Tubbo's white-knuckled grasp. "It all just... vanishes. Poof!" He crushes the cigarette under his foot." So tell, me, Tubbo." he hisses out the name like an insult. "What does Schlatt do to you, exactly? Shout at you? Take away your toys? Stop you from going to parties?" His face contorts into an expression of taunting, false pity; his lip quivers. His voice takes on a high, mocking tone.  "Aw, does he hurt your feelings? How mean! How cruel! How-" He stops. His expression is unimpressed, voice flat. "No one fucking cares."

"No- Wilbur-" Tubbo starts "That's not what he does! He's worse! He- he-"

"He- he" Wilbur repeats "He WHAT! He hits you? Aw, poor ickle Tubbo. You Knew! You knew what you signed up for when you sided with him."

Tommy steps in "Wil, you're wrong." He's shaking.
Wilbur arches an eyebrow. He steps forward.

"Oh." His eyes glint. "And how, Tommy, am I wrong?" His long fingered hand wraps taround Tommy's wrist and squeezes.

The shaking boy squares his shoulders. His voice screams of desperation.

"Tubbo's not with Schlatt, he's with us. Come on Wil. You raised us both, you know Tubbo wouldn't betray us. Please, try and remember. You remember the day we found him right? Tubbo in a box, Tubbox, we called him. He's ours, not Schlatt's. Wil, please. Don't forget."

"No- but- I'm right! They tell me so. The voices tell me I'm right. And the voices are always right, so I am too. I'm not like Techno- I'm not! I'm not!" Wilbur gabbles "They don't lie to me, they're my friends, my family." he releases Tommy's reddened wrist.

Tears are streaming down Tommy's face

"No, Wil, no. We're your family, me and Tubbo, and." He takes a deep breath, "And even- even Phil, and Technoblade, even though they left us. You can't hurt us like this, Wilbur, it's not right."
Wilbur starts towards Tommy. Tommy flinches back, hands coming up to cover his face and eyes screwing tightly shut.
Wilbur's face crumbles. "Tommy..." He all but whimpers, "I'm so sorry." He envelopes the blond boy in a huge hug. They sob into each other's arms. Tubbo hangs back, on the sidelines, until Wilbur turns to him and opens his arms. Tubbo rushes in, salty tears of his own joining Wilbur's and Tommy's. They spend a long time like that until Wilbur pushes them away and sets his jaw once more. He dries his tears. This was a weakness he cannot afford. It's better this way.

"That's enough of that." He states firmly, "I have things to do, places to be, people to kill, you know how it is."
Tommy stares at him with hopeless eyes.

"You're leaving" He states flatly "Of course you are."
"No, no, no, Tommy. It's not for long, I'll be back before you know it. You can trust me." Wilbur croons.
Tommy turns and pushes him away. 

"You are just like Phil! Coward!"

He runs, and Tubbo follows.
Wilbur sinks to his knees and wallows in the dirt of the world.

Chapter Text

Quackity coughs. Blood splatters from his aching throat and onto the white marble floor.

"Shhh," Tubbo soothes, rubbing a hand over Quackity's back, being careful to avoid his bent wings "I've got you, it's ok."
Quackity retches, grabbing Tubbo's hand tightly in a warning.

"Fuck!" Tubbo hisses, wrenching Quackity up off the floor and to the ornate toilet that was nestled in the corner of the room. "Please, please, don't vomit on me, I only own two shirts!"
Quackity finishes retching up the contents of his meager lunch into the toilet. He wipes his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Tubbo." He sighs "You're fucking fifteen, you shouldn't have to deal with this shit."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Quackity."Tubbo says, an edge to his voice, "Don't fucking treat me like one."
Quackity goes to disagree, but Tubbo pulls tightly on the stained, torn-up shirt that's been hastily wrapped around the deep bite marks on  Quackity's left thigh.

"That's what I thought." Tubbo says smugly "Now shut up and let me work."

"Twat."

"Dickhead."

"God, you're such a child. Oh, go suck a-." Quackity's no doubt vulgar sentence was cut off by Tubbo pulling harshly his bandages once again.

"Sorry, Big Q," Tubbo says unapologetically. "I can't suck a dick, that's your and Schlatt's job, isn't it?"

"Tubbo. Too far." Quackity says all mirth dropped from his tone.

"Yeah, well, don't call me a fucking kid again. If I'm old enough to have Schlatt beat the shit out of me, I'm old enough to be counted as an adult. Stop being a pussy and let me fix you up. Prime, this would be ten times easier with a regen pot. You got any?"

"Tubbo. Come on. In case you haven't noticed, we're in Manburg. With Schlatt. . Where the fuck would I get a regen pot from? Tommy? Fucking Wilbur?" He laughs "I'll just suck it up and power through, I'm not a pussy." 
Tubbo bleats in concentration. "What was it this time? What did" He pauses "...He do?"

"Oh god, goat boy, you don't want to hear all that" Quackity deflects. "Come on, I wanna get high and forget about life for a bit."
And so he does.
He lights up a cigarette, offers one to Tubbo, who refuses, and they sit like that for a while, engulfed in companionable silence, broken only occasionally by a chirp of pain from Quackity, and then a comforting bleat from Tubbo. At some point, Quackity lets the white snow dust his upper lip. He does not offer Tubbo any, instead warning him off with slurred reprimands.  The smoke drifts around the room, suffocating and choking them, but neither of them dares risk getting caught by Schlatt when they opened the door. From Quackity's bruised nose, deep red blood starts dripping. It splashes onto the stump of a cigarette Quackity's got clenched in between his chipped, yellow teeth, staining the white a dark ruby, that eventually fades to rusty brown. It's silent. Peaceful. Quiet. 
Quackity feels his eyes beginning to droop, eyelids fluttering shut. He yawns, and rests his head on the cold marble floor, drawing his warm, bloody gold wings up around him. He yawns again. Tubbo hums a laugh as the bird's wings shake when he yawns. Tubbo shifts his back against the cold white wall, sword clutched in hand. He can't fall asleep, he can't leave Quackity defenseless against Schlatt. Quackity's eyes flutter closed, the drop after a high.
And, then, later, so do Tubbo's.
Peace engulfs the bloodied room.

Something knocks at the door.

"Hello? I know you're in there. Fucking let me in." A rough voice speaks. "I'll pick this lock, don't test me."
They jolt awake, uncurling from where Quackity's bandaged head has found a place on Tubbo's shoulder. They stay silent, frozen, not recognizing the raspy voice outside the door.

"Oh for fuck's sa-" The voice cuts off with a sigh. It bangs on the door. "Let me in! Fuck's sake!"
Tubbo glances at Quackity, who pushes the younger ram hybrid behind him. If it is Schlatt, Quackity will be the target. He will take the hits, and the eventually take the touches.

"Tubbo!" The voice yells "Talk some fucking sense into loverboy there, for god's sake! I'm not gonna wait here all night!"
Tubbo glances at Quackity, and, slowly, carefully, painstakingly walks to the door. He puts his hand on the handle. He turns the lock. The door swings open to reveal...

Fundy.

Yogurt is pressed against his chest, wrapped tightly up in a ragged baby sling. Deep, black circles are carved underneath Fundy's yellow eyes. His shoulder-length hair is pulled back, half spilling out of it's once intricate, carefully made braid. A half-burnt cigarette is clenched in his teeth; Yogurt coughs at the smoke. Fundy makes no move to put it out.
He smiles awkwardly, all sharp teeth and split lips. 
Quackity collapses.

"Oh thank Prime!" He gasps, hand on his still racing heart "I thought you were Him. Fucking hell, Fundy, how much have you been smoking, your voice sounds so low?"
Fundy puffs out a wheezy smoker's laugh "Fuck off, you angsty bitch. You say that like you're not an addict yourself."
Quackity scowl. "Dickwad." He mutters.
Fundy stands awkwardly in the door frame. "Can I-?" He starts.

"What? Oh right, Fundy, you have permission to enter." Tubbo says.
Fundy still hovers.

"You, uh" he clears his throat, unwilling to pass over even the smallest amount of information to Tubbo, "You gotta say it like you mean it, and it's gotta be in your native tongue."
Tubbo swear and lets out a series of grunts and huffs, the harsh tones of his mother tongue, Ram, reminding him even more of his one similairty to Schlatt- their hybrid side.

"Fundy." he huffs "Vulpes, you may enter. Forsake the ritual, and enter into my abode. Let no more invitation be needed, from now til the dragon has been slayed."
Tubbo groans and moves his jaw. Giving an order linked infused with magic took it's toll on anyone, let alone a barely fifteen-year-old. Tubbo had no clue what to say to welcome Fundy, so he lets the magic take over his tongue, giving him words that aren't his own.
Like seriously, what the fuck is a vulpes? And what fucking dragon, they're not real. Whatever.

Fundy, being the son of a now wingless bird hybrid (pretty common origins), and, more surprisingly, a fucking immortal sea-based shapeshifter, had to be granted permission before entering a claimed territory. Because  Quackity had once, in the hazy throes of a particularly strong high, carved a small doodle of a grinning Tubbo onto the underside of the toilet bowl, Fundy's instincts and the laws of the universe apparently, recognized the bathroom as officially Tubbo's. Schlatt, when he found this out, had backhanded Quackity hard enough to break his nose and give him a concussion. 

Fundy drops to the ground next to them, stretching his aching limbs. "Ugh, Prime, my back is killing me; Schlatt decided to use it as a fucking fidget toy, apparently." The mirth that fills his tone is clearly forced.
Tubbo snorts

"Just use one of those fancy regen  pots that Wilbur gave you before you left; god knows the bastard's not good for much else."
Fundy laughs

"As if! My dear, devoted father gave me two. Two! Not be ungrateful, but I'm gonna be ungrateful.  He knows what Schlatt's like, two measly regen pots aren't going to get me through this shit-fest.  Anyway, he told me if I actually used them, he'd murder me, and I don't wanna take my chances. They're  sentimental to him, the weirdo."
Quacktiy groans, as his stomach lurches once more. He rushes to the toilet and throws up; acidic, slightly ed bile is all that comes up. 
As he moves, his shirt rides up slightly. There, bright red against the smooth cream of his skin, is an angry red brand. A pair of crossed horns, and an S situated underneath them, are seared into Quackity's skin.
Fundy and Tubbo glance at eachother.
Fundy's eyes narrow.

"Quackity." He says "What the hell is that?"
Quackity goes pale. "What's what, Fundy?" he says, feigning innocence.

"Big Q..." Tubbo starts, "Don't lie to us."
"Yeah," Fundy interjects "Don't try that shit with us, we're not Schlatt. We actually care about you. Tell us what that is."
Quackity wipes his mouth and pulls his shirt further down. "You don't need to know. Trust me, it's nothing you need to worry about."
Tubbo and Fundy glance at eachother, communicating non-verbally. They start forward at the same time, Fundy springing and landing with the uncanny grace all fox-hybrids have, and Tubbo landing heavily on his hoof-like feet.
Tubbo grabs Quackity's slender, hollow-boned arms and holds them in one large hand, the other hand finding it's way to Quackity's beanie-clad head and pushing, the firm pressure from his soft hands showing Quackity that his beanie is still secure, his safety has not been breached. Fundy grabs a struggling Quackity's shirt and pulls it up slightly, thumb rubbing soothing circles into Quackity's skin.

The sight is horrific. 

Reddened angry welts cover every inch of his torso, but the most horrific are the brown, crusty brands that adorn his skin. Schlatt's symbol, his mark of ownership, his seared permanently into Quackity's flesh.  In one spot, Fundy swears he can see pearly-white bone peeking through the deep gouge in his arm, no doubt caused by the large, twisted horns that sit proudly on top of Schlatt's head.  The bone is half-obscured by blood,true, but definitely there. His hands shake.
Hastily applied bandages cover some of the wounds. Tubbo picks at one of them, slowling peeling it away from where it sticks, glue-like to the open sore.  The bandage gets stuck, and Tubbo wrenches it, drawing a high scream of pain from Quackity, who struggles and writhes in his grasp. 

"Please, Tubbo, it hurts!" He begs "You're hurting me, please, please. Tubbo-" He gasps, eyes going glassy, "I didn't do anything! I swear! Schlatt- please, you have to believe me, NO!" Quackity stops moving "Hurt me instead! Use me, just don't hurt the kids! Please, they're just children, Tubbo's only fifteen. Not my kids! Please, don't hurt my fledgling, he's mine!"

The bandage comes away with a squelch. Quackity shrieks and sobs. His eyes roll back into his head and he goes lax, overwhelmed by the wave of pain that courses over him.
He gags. The scent of burnt meat drifts from the bloody mess that is Quackity's destroyed stomach, permeating the air with it's sickening smell. Fundy's staring in abject horror, looking green and terrified. He stands up.

"Fundy!" Tubbo turns to him, "Don't go, please don't leave me here with him. Prime, Fundy I can't do this!" His tone shifts from pleading to hysterical anger "Don't you dare fucking go! I'll fucking kill you if you leave, you can't do this!" 
Fundy turns and runs, Yogurt clutched tightly in his shaking grip. Tubbo lets out a choked sob, before clapping a hand over his mouth. Being a baby wasn't going to solve anything, he had to help Quackity.
He stares down at the bloodied mess before him, before reaching for his communicator.

Tubbo_:  Tommy, I need to talk to you.
TommyInnit: K, bossman, what's up? You ok, bitchboy?
TommyInnit: Btw, I can't meet up rn, Wil's in a shit mood. Might fuck around and TNT some mobs later, yk how it is.
Tubbo_: Tommy.
Tubbo_: I'm calling in that agreement. No questions asked, no strings attached.
TommyInnit: Tubbo! Holy shit, are you ok, what's going on? Prime, Tubbo, you gotta tell me!
Tubbo_: Tommy, I can't say. Besides, you swore on Prime. You literally can't break our promise.
TommyInnit: I guess you're right, beeboy. What do you need?
Tubbo_: How do you fix a brand?
Tubbo_: Like one in someone's skin, yk like the hot metal (I think it's caused by metal) type.
Tubbo_: Preferably human skin.
TommyInnit: PRIME, TUBBO WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON! YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT AND NOT EXPLAIN! Please, just tell me you're safe.
Tubbo_: I think I am, for now.
TommyInnit: I don't know, my best bet would be a regen pot, but since you don't have those...
TommyInnit: Phil will help. If you tell him you're calling in my only favor from him, then he'll help. The code word is-
Tubbo_: Holy shit, Tommy, I can't just take your favor! A favor from the fucking Angel of Death! Are you insane? I'm not wasting your favor on this!
TommyInnit: Shit, Wilbur's here. I gotta go! The code word is 
TommyInnit: Tubbo. I have removed Tommy's communicator until he can learn how to be loyal. I don't trust you. -Wilbur.

Shit. Tubbo runs a hand through his matted hair. How was he going to help Quackity now? Fuck, he was useless. He settles for dampening a cleanish cloth by the sink with cold water, pressing it to the unconscious duck-hybrid's back. Quackity groans and shifts in pain, but stays passed out. A loud knock sounds on the door. 
"Tubboo" a sing-songy drunken voice calls "I know you're in thereee!"
A huge fist pounds on the door. 
"Let me in!" the rough voice demands "You fucking brat, let me at my husband! Quackity's in there, damnit!"
Tubbo stays silent, a hand pressed over his and Quackity's mouths. The door shakes on it's hinges. If Schlatt got in, he would be dead.
With shaking hands, he reaches for his communicator. It beeps quietly as it powers on, and Tubbo winces as a fresh barrage of hits slam into the wooden door at the sound. He navigates to the person he needs and types a message.
[To: TommyInnit. From: Tubbo_] I love you, stay sa-.]
His grip on the communicator slips, it bounces to the ground and rolls out of his reach. He dares not move to grab it. He screws his eyes tightly shut.
His hand moves from his mouth to grip the golden locket around his throat, a memento Tommy had stolen for him when they were seven and the whole world seemed to be theirs.
He presses it to his lips with a shaking hand. Tears slip out of his eyes, running in salty trails down his cheeks. They sting against the sunburn on his cheeks, courtesy of his and Tommy's recent adventure to a nearby flower field.
It's silent.
THe door has stopped shaking, he cannot hear Schlatt.  Tubbo sighs, standing and reaching a hand out to the lock. 

Schlatt bellows.

The wood of the soor splinters and breaks in two places, Schlatt's sharp horns puncturing the wood. Tubbo lets out a squeak and grabs Quackity, hauling him to his feet. He pulls them both into the curtained-off shower, leaving a small gap in the otherwise closed curtains to peer out through.
Eyes appear at one of the holes in the door. A harsh noise is heard, like fingernails scraping along the chalkboard texture of Schlatt's horns. Screech. Screech. Screech. Quackity whimpers in his sleep and claps a hand over his ears.
Tubbo is silent.
The door swings slowly open.
Schlatt enters the room, eyes alert and watching. He stops and stands stock still in the center of the small bathroom. He does not speak. He does not move. He listens.
Tubbo is sobbing without noise, tears running down his face and soaking the top of the still-passed-out deadweight of Quackity he cradled in his arms.
Schlatt starts walking towards the shower, hand reaching out.  His fingers graze the plastic of the curtain, he reaches to pull it back..

"BOOM!"

The sound of Tnt echoes throughout the house, rocking the foundations and shaking the bathroom.
Schlatt turns and runs.
"Shut the fuck up! Can't even fucking do anything in this house, Jesus Christ!" he hollers as his heavy footsteps recede away from Tubbo.
Tubbo lets out a shaky sob, hugging Quackity to his chest, "Oh my god," He whispers "We're fucking alive" He lets out a hysterical laugh. "I'm alive!" he laughs, teeth bared to the heavens, daring someone to prove him, wrong.
The door slams open.
"Tubbo? You in there?" comes a hoarse voice. Fundy. It was just Fundy.

"Oh thank Prime, Fundy, yeah I'm in here" Tubbo garbles, pulling himself out of the shower and tucking Quackity back into the tub, for safe-keeping.
A meaty hand wraps around his wrist.
He is met with the stench of vodka, as Schlatt wrenches him close.

"Good." Schlatt hisses "Don't even try to fucking run."