Tubbo was anxiously sitting in the back of his social workers car, holding onto a bee plush. He had on a big green sweater on that fell to his knees as he was curled up in the backseat, scared. He didn’t want a new foster, they were all mean. They entered your home and met you at your doorway. Tubbo sniffled and hid behind his social workers leg, his brunette hair falling into his brown eyes, his ram ears going down and his tiny ram tail tucked in between his legs as he hid.