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Chapter Text

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Tommy says. His voice is pitched higher than usual, hands clenched at his sides. He seems smaller under the stare of the President and his cabinet. Tubbo tries not to care. "I am, really, and I swear to Prime I won't do it again, okay?"

"Oh! That's rich," Tubbo laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and hating the way it makes him feel small. "I don't believe that at all, because you're Tommy, you always- you always do this! There's always something going on with you, some problem you've caused. You're not going stop, you know how I know? It's because you're selfish."

Tommy recoils, and a burst of guilt flares up so hard in his chest that he almost stumbles. The blond seems lost for a moment, expression twisted up as he struggles to find his words, to come up with a response. Tubbo sucks in a small breath, torn between apologizing and plowing forwards, and-

"He's not selfish," The new kid- Ranboo, Ranboo- says, softly, hesitantly. He seems to shrink as all eyes turn to him, lowering his gaze to his shiny  dress shoes. "He- um, he isn't selfish, he defended me, in the courtroom, when you asked if I was involved in burning down George's house. I was, but I- but he told you I wasn't, he could have thrown me under the bus or dragged me down with him but he.. didn't, that isn't selfish."

"Well, I'm so glad you two have formed such an intimate bond," Tubbo says bitterly, and fuck him, he's mad, okay? All he wanted was peace. All he wanted was to last one measly fucking week without getting into some sort of problem. "But if you haven't noticed, I've known Tommy for so, so long, but he couldn't even do one thing for me." He turns his eyes back to Tommy, and hates the way his brother shrinks under his gaze. "You won't stop. You admited that you won't stop! You told Dream that you wouldn't!"

Tommy runs his tongue over his teeth. He seems uncomfortable, and fuck, good, Tubbo's uncomfortable too, he was uncomfortable stripping away Tommy's vice president duties, he was uncomfortable with Dream's vice grip on his arm as he lowly explained what he expected. "I need the discs, Tubbo." He says, almost softly, almost.. bitterly.

Tubbo takes a deep, steadying breath. The words sink in his chest, feeling like a pit in his stomach. "Why?" He asks, and he doesn't sound angry anymore, he sounds tired. He is tired. "Why- Why can't you let it rest? Let it go?"

"They're important." Tommy says, like it's.. simple. Tubbo could laugh. Tubbo could cry.

"Important?" Quackity says, and christ, Tubbo had almost forgotten his temporary Vice President was there. "Important, Tommy? What about L'Manburg? It's people?" His wings flutter at his back. They're tattered, from explosions amd rough handling. Tubbo logically knows it isn't his fault, but that doesn't make him stop feeling guilty.

"They're important too," Tommy says, throwing his arms out, exasperated. "We'll just fight Dream, we've done it once, and this time there's more of us!"

"Oh yes," Fundy hisses, and Tubbo had forgotten about him, too. "Because that went so well last time. The only way way we won was when you gave up those fucking discs that you love so much. You know, part of the reason why we're in this mess."

"Not to mention," Quackity jumps in. "Dream could easily recruit the help of Technoblade, who wants us all annihlated."

Tommy scowls. "We'll figure it out."

Tubbo has a fucking headache.

"Listen, man," Quackity sighs. "I don't want to exile you, but you've gotta stop this shit."

"But-" Tommy starts, and Tubbo's had enough.

"But nothing!" Tubbo shouts, his voice cracks with the force of it, and everyone collectively flinches, especially Tommy. Rarely does Tubbo yell, and even rarer is it for him to yell at Tommy. "You don't learn, Tommy, you never fucking learn, you just pull this type of shit over, and over, and over again, and I let you! I take the fall for you, because-" He slaps a hand over his mouth, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach, Wilbur's harsh, taunting words ringing in his ears like alarm bells. "Oh God, I really am a yes man, aren't I?" He asks.

And then promptly begins to cry.

Chapter Text

"I don't want to exile you," Tubbo murmers. They're sitting on the bench, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. His eyes burn, his face is wet, and he feels embaressed about crying in front of everyone, especially the new kid, over something so.. trivial, in the long run.

"Then don't," Tommy says back. He's slouched, unsurprisingly, hands clasped together. He keeps glancing at the jukebox almost longingly. "You don't have to bend to Dream's will."

"And what of L'Manburg? Of the people who live there?" He swipes his thumb over the slerve cuff of his suit, fiddles with the clasp. "It's too new, too tender, it would fall in one hit, Tommy. We don't have the resources to sustain everyone if we're all boxed in."

Tommy chews his bottom lip, picks at a hang nail, and entirely avoids Tubbo's almost desperate gaze. He pulls his legs up on the bench. "I don't want to go," He says, an almost whimper, and Tubbo thinks his heart is breaking. "This is my home too."

"I know," Tubbo swallows auidably. "I know."

********

"Tubbo,"

Tubbo stiffens, head tilting up to the wall, where Dream lounges lazily, head propped up in his hand. There's always this threatening aura surrounding him, dangerous, one that makes Tubbo's hair stand on edge. His ear twitches. He's alone.

"Dream," He greets, cool and profesional. Unfitting for a sixteen year old. "What.. What do you want?"

"To talk," Dream says airily, rolling over onto his stomach, head still propped up. "Can't I want to talk to my little brother?" The word feels foreign coming out of Dream's mouth, it doesn't belong there, not after everything.

-Schlatt recognized them both by the tags on their ears. That was probably one of the scariest moments of Tubbo's life-

"No, you can't," Tubbo says dryly, trying his hardest to keep any trace of fear out of his voice and off his face. "You never do, so, what is it you want?" No point dancing around it, he thinks, that just puts him more on edge, and he'd really like to be out of this situation as fast as possible.

"Fine," Dream sighs, like it's upsetting, an inconvienience, as if this whole situation isn't his fault. As mad as Tubbo is at Tommy for already getting into shit after they just got out of a fucking war, Dream was blowing things way, way out of proportion. Houses could be rebuilt, hell, it already had been. "I just want to.. warn you, before you make you're decision." He sits up, throwing his legs over the side of the obsidian he's sitting on. "If you don't exile Tommy, I'll kill, him, probably,"

..oh.

"you know he's just going to keep doing the same things over and over, unless he faces some form of punishment, so.. I'll have to kill him. And probably a few L'Manburg citizens, too." Dream says, nonchalant, heels hitting the wall. "Now I don't want to, but as I said, Tommy won't stop, and no one will learn. I can only be so lenient for so long."

"You're cruel," Tubbo says. His stomach rolls, the threat hands above his head, taunting him. Tommy will die. His citizens will die.

He didn't want to be President.

"Maybe," Dream agrees easily, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. Tubbo feels small compared to Dream in normal circumstances, but here? He feels like a bug. He feels like he's going to die. "But that's how you get people to listen. You should take a page out of my book, Tubs."

"Don't call me that!" Tubbo snaps, tense and feeling ready to flee. That's what Tommy calls him, that's what Wilbur called him, his real, genuine brothers. "Don't- don't call me that. Ever."

Dream raises his hands in surrender and stands. "Fine, fine. I won't," Dream only towers over Tubbo more now. "I can tell when I'm not wanted, so I'll take my leave. But remember what I told you, Tubbo. Make the right choice." With that, he hops off the wall and disappears.

********

Tommy is gloating. Dream is staring at Tubbo.

Expectantly.

Tubbo, despite being President, has not been involved in the making off a decision, instead he was talked over and pushec around, bullied into settling on some ridiculous plan.

'Respect the President,' Quackity had said, as they -Tubbo- cleaned up the rubble, the result of Wilbur's dive into the deep end. How rich was that? Quackity didn't care.

"I want to hear what Tubbo's decision is," Dream interupts Tommy's ramblings, who merely stands taller, shooting Tubbo a smile. There's a spark of defiance in his eyes. Tubbo feels sick.

"I have decided," Tubbo says slowly, hands clasped behind his back, spine straight. He's terrified, and his hands shake, but he isn't going to show it. "After much consideration, to-" He chokes. "To exile Tommy from L'Manburg."

He doesn't look as Tommy cries out in shock, ignores everything being said until Fundy grabs his arm and forces him to look, dark eyes burning with anger and distrust as he says "You're turning out to be just like Schlatt."

And Tubbo feels sick.

He pulls away harshly, head spinning as he turns to look ay Dream, mouth dry as he says "Please, escort Tommy out."

"No, no no, Tubbo please," Tommy begs, eyes wide as saucers. Dream pushes past Tubbo and grabs Tommy's arm, pushing him to the edge of the wall. "Tubbo you can't- this is my home, you can't do this to me, please- please-"

"I'm sorry," Tubbo whispers, and turns away.

Chapter Text

Three days after Tommy's exile and Tubbo has hardly moved. He's staring down at paperwork he can't read because one: he's dyslexic, and two: he can't focus long enough with all his thoughts on Tommy's well being. He hopes his best friend is okay. He hopes he's able to repair what he broke.

He can't imagine his life without Tommy.

But he supposes that's how he has to live right now. Without Tommy. Just like he lived during Manberg. He doesn't know which ones worse, being away from his best friend because he betrayed him, or being forced away by his father and forced to spy by his brother.

God. Tubbo thinks that was the worst time of his entire life. The smell of alcohol is ingrained in his memory, as well as the sight of ripped out yellow feathers and the feeling of a palm against his cheek. It makes Tubbo feel sick to think about, so he tries not to, but here, alone, with his thoughts, and the pain in his burns that aren't yet healed, he doesn't have much of a choice.

He has a headache.

"Well," He startles, badly, nearly falling off his chair in his fright, heart thundering painfully at the slightly echoey, but terrifyingly familair voice. He turns, feeling like a deer in headlights as he comes face to face with J.Schlatt. Or.. the ghost of him, it seems. "Never imagined you coulda been made President, kid."

Tubbo wants to cry. His mouth feels dry, he wants to leave but he- he can't.. he can't move.

Schlatt moves forwards, ghostly but oddly solid shoulder brushing against Tubbo's, and he flinches back on instinct. Schlatt laughs, leaning over the desk to get a look at the paperwork. "From what I hear, you're doin' a pretty shit job," He says, and promptly bursts into a coughing fit, one that Tubbo leans away from, without getting up from his chair.

The ghost ram swipes a hand over his mouth once he's finished, and produces something seemingly from the air, and Tubbo feels like his heart stops. It's alcohol.

"Oh don' look at me like that," Schlatt says sharply, taking a swig.

"Like what?" Tubbo asks, and hates how weak he sounds.

"Like a kicked puppy or some shit," He grumbles, coughing imto his fist. Afterwards he sniffs, loudly, alcohol slushing around in it's bottle. "You act like you don' drink."

"I don't," Tubbo says stiffly. His ear twitches. He doesn't want to be here, really, he'd rather be anywhere else. "I don't drink."

"Uh huh," Schlatt says, leaning in close. He still smells like fucking alcohol. "Then please, do tell me what you did with my stash then."

Oh. That stash. The stash that Tubbo kept. "I don't drink," he repeats, and it's a lie.

Schlatt laughs, a high, keening sound that makes Tubbo feel sick, makes Tubbo want to throw up. "Some people say addiction travels through the bloodline, you know," He says casually. "Looks like it does."

"I'm not addicted," Tubbo says, and it doesn't come out as sharp as he'd have like it too. He really isn't, he just had a few drinks, during Manberg, when ne was forced to, because of Schlatt. "Go away, I don't want you here."

..and maybe a couple since then. Fuck him, he's been stressed, okay?

"Sure, kid." Schlatt snorts. He turns back to the papers on the desk, riffling through them as he says, "Don' want your old man aroun' because he smacked you aroun' a little?" He picks up one of the papers, peering at it closely, holding it so tight that the paper wrinkles.

"A little?" Tubbo echoes, and anger bubbles up, sharp and hot. A little was an understatement. "I don't want you here because you 'smacked me around' a hell of a lot, and you hurt Quackity, and executed me, and got me fucking addicted to-"

"Ha!" Schlatt interups, sharp, haunting laughter bubbling from his throat, and Tubbo nearly falls off his chair. He just- he just said he wasn't an addict mere seconds ago and yet- and yet- "There you go! You admitted it yourself. You're an addict, kid, might as well make peace with it." He puncuates that with another uncomfortably long swig of alcohol that makes Tubbo feel fucking sick.

"I'm not," Tubbo protests weakly, to no avail. He admitted it. He admitted it. He's just.. just like Schlatt. "I- I've just been stressed, okay? Being President is h- hard and- and it helps calm me down, okay? I don't-"

Schlatt slams his hand down hard on the desk, amd that movement is followed by a thundering sound that does actually make Tubbo fall off the chair this time. "You're making excuses," He says lowly. "If my son's gonn' be a failure just like his old man he better not be a fucking pussy about it."

"I'm not," Why is he denying, why does he keep going, why is he like this, why why why why why why-

"Don't fucking cry!" The ghost snaps, and Tubbo forces himself to suck in a sharp breath amd blink rapidly, pushing back tears as he stumbles to his feet, wavering dangerously.

Go away, he thinks, go away and never come back.

"I hate you," Is what he says instead.

Schlatt smiles, sharp and wicked. He steps around the chair to get into Tubbo's face, and he's glad at least that Schlatt doesn't need to breathe, because his breath would probably smell awful. "You really hate your dad, Tubbo?"

"You're not my dad," Tubbo whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. "You abandoned me in a box during a storm."

"I was drunk,"

"Yeah," Tubbo laughs dryly. His hands shake. "When are you not?"

Schlatt doesn't respond to that, just laughs and steps back, prompting Tubbo to open his eyes, hands clenched in an attempt to hide his shaking, nails biting into his palms. Before anything can be said by either ram a knock comes from the door, making Tubbo jump and causing Schlatt to leave in a quick movement, phasing through the wall, and Tubbo distantly wonders how it all works, the ghost thing, if they can just.. decide to be solid one moment and not the next.

The door opens. Dream steps in.

Great.

Dream tilts his head ever so slightly, something that makea Tubbo almost sick to look at, knowing he does the same thing. "Are you okay?" He says, and God, he almost sounds fucking concerned. If Tubbo hadn't known what Dream was capable of, what Dream had already done, he would have believed it.

"Yes." He says stiffly, lowering his eyes to his ratty brown converse, unfitting with the rest of his suit.

Dream merely hums in response, stepping around to manuver Tubbo back into his chair, slipping his pen back in his hand.

"What do you want?" Tubbo asks hollowly, staring down at the paperwork, which stares back up mockingly. The words blend together. Tubbo's eyes hurt.

"I just wanted to check on you, tell you that you did a good job," Dream leans over him, chest pressed against his shoulder, peering at the paperwork as Tubbo pulls it just slightly closer to himself. "You made the right choice, exiling Tommy and all."

"Mm," Tubbo hums.

He'd really like to be rid of complicated family member visits. Of them acting like they care, but he doubts he'll get that anytime soon.

Chapter Text

A little over a week after Tommy's exile Tubo stumbles through the portal, stomach dropping and head spinning with the dizziness it brings, finding himself leaning against the obsidian frame for support as his legs threaten to give out from under him.

He's used to portals by now, he doesn't know why this is affecting him so badly.

-maybe a mix of lack of sleep, and a lack of proper food intake, results of stress and being stalked by a certain ghost-

-maybe nerves, too-

His head starts to clear, and he sucks in a deep, trembling breath, blinking sun and fog out of his tired eyes. He straightens up, keeping one hand on the frame, just in case, and the first thing his eyes land on is Tommy. Of course it's Tommy.

His face is hardset and impossible to read, the only emotion peaking through is anger which is.. okay, it's okay, Tubbo can fix it, and even if he can't it's what he deserves. "Hi," He whispers, and watches the way Tommy's eyes narrow into slits. There's a pickaxe in his hand, but Tubbo doesn't spot any disturbed earth, or any signs that he'd used it yet.

"What are you doing here?" His stance is defensive, his fingers twitch around the handle of the pickaxe.

"I'm visiting you?" Tubbo says, and hate how it comes out as a question, awkward and uncertain. "You're my best friend so.."

"Uh huh," Tommy cuts in with a roll of his eyes. There's a bandage on his face, sticking out against his unusually pale skin. His clothes are tattered, hair messy, an he looks.. exhausted. It's worrying, to say the least. "Are you sure we're best friends, Tubbo? Last time I checked best friends don't fucking exile each other, but maybe I'm wrong." His voice holds an aggressive, angry bite, and Tubbo can't help but flinch.

"I'm sorry," He says genuinely, lowering his hand from where it still rested against the portal frame, as he no longer feels as if he's going to keel over at any given moment. "I am, Tommy, really. I didn't want to exile you, but I didn't have much of a choice," He does not bring up Dream's threat, for while Dream had not outright said anything about it, he had the distinct feeling that the other ram would not take kindly to that being spread around, and Tommy was not known for keeping quiet about those types of things.

Not to mention it would only fuel Quackity's lust for blood. He was already desperately pushing for Dream and Technoblade's heads, pushing for war and chaos, but Tubbo refused to budge, he would not drag his newborn country down.

He refused to be like Schlatt.

Like Wilbur.

"Sure," Tommy snarks, but turns away, heading to what looks like a little area made of logs, and Tubbo follows after him.

Not a word is shared as they walk, and the second they set foot in the little log area, Ghostbur comes bursting out, eyes lit up with joy, and Tubbo internally winces as the ghost bounds towards him, arms wide open.

"Tubbo!" He cries joyously, encasing him in a quick hug, and then pulling away, cupping his face between his hands. "Have you come to visit us while we're on tour? Oh! Or join us!" His hands are cold, but still so comforting that Tubbo feels like he could melt and stay here forever. 

"Tour?" He echoes, sending a glance at Tommy, who looks thoroughly displeased with the word. "No I'm.. only here to visit."

"Ah," Ghostbur says sagely. "That's a shame," He rubs his thumb over his face, over his not yet healed and bandaged burns, and he hisses on instinct, and Ghostbur's hands begin to retract, expression morphing into one of guilt and confusion, but Tubbo, before he really realizes what he's doing, he's placing his hands on he ghosts, keeping them in place.

He flushes, smiling sheepishly and dropping his hands. "Sorry," He whispers, and Ghostbur's expression goes from guilty to soft and fond. He let's go of Tubbo's face, but places one hand on the back of the ram's head, pulling him into his chest, keeping his hand there and wrapping his other arm around him and- oh.

Tubbo's breath shudders in his chest as he clings to his dead brother. It feels safe, and so warm at the same time.

This isn't quite Wilbur, but it's as close as he's going to get, and better than the alternative.

********

Tommy, surprisingly enough, does not kick him out.

Tubbo had really thought he was going to for a bit, expression sharp and angry as he watched the President and Ghostbur chat, but here they were, with Tubbo's hands cupped around a bumblebee and Tommy peering down at it.

"I don't get why you like 'em so much," Tommy grumbles. He's leaning over Tubbo's shoulder, chest pressed against the smallers back. "They stinh and shit."

"Not if you're kind to them," Tubbo replies, flattening his hands and allowing the little creature to crawl over his fingers. It tickles. "They only sting if you threaten them, you know, they defend themselves."

Tommy scoffs. "Well, I am the most threatening person, ever, so obviously they don't like me."

"Oh yeah?" Tubbo hums, pulling away slightly and turning, raising his fingers as the bee comes to rest on his fingertips. He carefully holds his hands out, right in Tommy's face, who cringes back, making a face at the close proximity.

"Are you trying to get me stung?" Tommy asks, offended, slapping a hand over his chest.

Tubbo shrugs innocently, pulling his hands back closer to hid chest. "Just testing out what you said," He smiles. "It seems like you're not as threatenimg as you say you are."

"What?"

"The bee didnt sting you."

********

Eventually Tubbo has to leave, and stumbles through the smp's portal, head spinning and stomach feeling like it could lose the dinner he'd eaten at Logstedshire.

He gasps, nearly falling if not for the portal frame, clinging to it for dear life. He thought he'd be okay, going through the Logstedshire portal was mostly fine, but maybe it had something to do with the nethers heat...

"Where were you?" A hand wraps around his upper arm, and he supresses the urge to cry out, but unfortunately not the one to flinch. He attemps to blink the blurriness out of his eyes and looks up to meet Quackity's. "Well?"

Tubbo thinks he'll throw up if he opens his mouth. "..visiting Tommy," He mumbles, mouth dry and head pounding.

Quackity's expression morphs into something almost angry and pulls Tubbo away from the portal, who stumbles and nearly collapses without the support of the obsidian. "Fucking hell- what-" Quackity sputters. He still looks mad, but his eyes hold a twinge of concern. "Ran-bo, c'mere, help me with him."

Tubbo hadn't even realized that Ranboo was there, but in a moment the hakf ender half something hybrid is wrapping his hands gently around Tubbo's arm, a lot softer than Quackity is being. Not to say Quackity is being rough with him, just more.. firm.

"You can't just fucking disappear for the whole day, man," Quackity continues as the two support him and walk, guiding the President back to L'Manburg. "No one could find you, and you weren't answering your comm, and-"

"I left it."

"Huh?"

"My comm. I left it at L'Manburg."

"Fuck, man," Quackity hisses. "You can't go off and do that! You can't just decide to fuck around with Tommy all day-"

"Why not?" Tubbo spits, hackles raised. If he wasn't relying on Quackity to keep him standing he'd have pulled away. "He's my best friend, if I want to take a break for a day and visit him I will, because I-"

"You have responsabilities," Quackity cuts him off, not quite shouting, but close enough that it makes Tubbo shut his mouth with an audible clack. "You're the President of L'Manburg, you can't just ditch all your duties to screw around, okay?"

"I miss him."

"Yeah," Quackity says dryly. "I do too, but guess who's fault that is."

Tubbo flinches, and they come to a stop on L'Manburg land.

Quackity retracts his hand and steps back, face unreadable as he says. "Ranboo, I trust you can get him back on your own."

Ranboo nods, and he does.

Chapter Text

"He's going to kill us," Quackity says, arms crossed over his chest. His expression is hardset and determined, And Tubbo knows this isn't going to be an easy fight.

"He will," Tubbo agrees tiredly. He doesn't feel like arguing, or any other stupid bullshit, he just wants people to listen when he says no. Is it so much to ask for respect? To not be challenged for every choice? His cabinet makes a lot of decisions, after what happened on the wall, but this was the one thing Tubbo wouldn't budge on. "That's why we aren't engaging."

Quackity throws his arms out, wings twitching in agitation. "You just agreed with me!" He cries, looking larger than he actually is in his anger. "Tubbo, we can't let him run around, doing Prime knows what! We can't sit back and wait for him to attack us."

"Well," Tubbo says dryly, head pulsing with the promise of a headache. "We're very well not going to provoke him to do so." He pinches the bridge of his nose, massaging it with his fingers. "We're not strong enough to take him on, Quackity. There's no way to tell if he actually will attack us if we leave it, but he will retaliate if we strike first. We're not risking it."

Quackity hisses out an exasperated breath. "So what, we're just going to let him run all over us?"

"If that's what it takes to keep L'Manburg safe, then yes."

Quackity's scowl deepens. "He destroyed L'Manburg," He says, voice sharp and venomous. "And he killed you." There's something dark is his eyes, dangerous and taunting, begging for a reaction, begging for a give in Tubbo's resolve. 

Well, Tubbo refuses to give.

But he still flinches at the mention of the loss of his second life, eyes narrowing. No more. No more. "And how did both of those end, Quackity?" He asks, voice shaking but sharp and professional. "With Technoblade winning. He beat everyone after my-" he faulters- "-my execution, and he beat everyone when he and Wilbur destroyed L'Manburg. We don't stand a fucking chance." He remembers, barely, in a haze of pain, dying after being shot in the chest and the head with fireworks, hardly able to see through the blood, Tommy's hands curled tight around his arms, panicked and shouting, begging, crying, and Technoblade attacking the festival -execution- attendees.

And winning.

It makes him a little bit angry.

"He had withers, but he won't if we get to him first!" Quackity cries, shifting from one foot to another. He looks almost as bored as he is angry, but it doesn't look like he's ready to give up just yet.

"Who's we?" Tubbo asks. "Me you and Fundy? We'll die!"

"And Ran-bo," Quackity adds, as if that changes anything, and Tubbo laughs.

"God, you're delusional," Tubbo says, shaking his head rapidly. His burns itch. "You're losing it, Q, Jesus fucking christ, do you hear yourself?" He runs a hand over the side of his face, the unburned side, despite how he aches to scratch it. "The four of us have no chance if the entire nation didn't, not just once, but twice!" He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "You need to stop talking about this, I won't hear any more of it."

Quackity's expression twists, and he throws his arms out again, and Tubbo fucking flinches. "But-"

"No," He says, and hopes it sounds as final as he'd like it to, and turns to leave, because he's said his piece, and he's done, he won't have it anymore, he-

Quackity grabs his arms in a bruising grip, turning him back to face him. 

And Tubbo goes practically boneless, head swarming with panic and only registering Quackity's angry voice, no proper words. The fear is all consuming, all too familiar, he doesn't register his surroundings anymore, all he knows is someone is angry and angry means danger and danger means Schlatt and- oh no, oh no oh no oh no-

"Don't," He's distantly aware of himself saying. "Please, don't- I'm sorry, please- don't- I'm-" A sob bubbles up. No no- he doesn't like crying- stop stop stop!- "Schaltt- please, I'm sorry-"

The hands leave his arms, someone presses comfortingly against his back, and he allows himself to suck in a full breath, coming back to his senses slowly, sagging against whoever is gently holding him.

Fundy's gotten inbetween him and Quackity, one hand pressed against the duck hybrids chest, ears and tail puffed up and slicked back in agitated positions. Quackity's eyes are wide and almost horrified looking and.. oh. It was Quackity. Tubbo feels sick. Ranboo is holding him.

Ranboo is holding him oh so gently, and when Tubbo tilts his head up to look at him, his multicolored eyes are blown wide in concern, brow furrowed. 

While his concern is.. vaguely nice, it's also almost sickening, because he and Fundy saw that, and he hardly knows Ranboo and- when did they get here?- 

He glances around the room and oh- it's.. the meeting room. Quackity and Tubbo had started arguing in the meeting room and Tubbo forgot the other two cabinet members were there.

"Can you take him to his room?" Fundy asks, and Tubbo feels Ranboo move, feels Ranboo tuck and arm under his knees and one around his shoulders and pulls him into the air, and under any other situation he would be embarrassed, and he'd demand to be put down, but he's in that foggy state of mind he gets in after a panic attack, and merely rests his head against Ranboo's chest.

It's decidedly weird to be up this high.

Not a word is shared as they walk through L'Manburg, and before he knows it he's being gently set down in his bed.

"Are you okay?" Ranboo asks, and his voice is so gentle for such a large and almost scary creature. "That was.. intense,"

"I'm okay," Tubbo attempts to soothe. "Just tired now, I think,"

Ranboo nods, straightening up a bit. "I'll.. leave you then?" He says, almost more like a question. "Would it be okay if I checked on you in a few hours?"

Tubbo finds himself smiling. "Yeah, I think that'd be okay." He says, and decides that he likes this Ranboo.

********

Tubbo can't sleep, so he finds himself staring in front of his mirror, bottle of Schlatt's whiskey in hand, buzzing uncomfortably. He feels sick.

He looks like Schlatt.

If it weren't for the bandages covering the right side of his face and wrapping around his neck, chest, and arms he'd look almost exactly like him. He supposes it makes sense, he's the mans son, after all, but he doesn't want to, he doesn't fucking want to!

He can't.

He let's out a shuddering, alcohol sented breath, dropping the bottle to the floor and ripping off the bandages, winces at the way they stick to the burns and pull, causing pain to spike through them. He drops the bandages to the floor in a heap, and he stares, and stares.

He looks terrible.

His burns still fucking itch.

His sharp nails dig into the injured flesh, not quite healed yet, and he scratches.

And scratches, and scratches, blood blooming in his wake, pulling at the layer of healing scabs, ripping them off in his mind numbing panic.

He whimpers, biting down on his tongue as he claws at his face, the stench of blood filing the air. He moves one hand and slams it down on the vanity, desperately trying to get it to stop fucking itching. He wants it off. All of it off. He doesn't want the reminder of what happened.

He doesn't want to look like this.

He sobs, banging his hand on the vanity again, other hand moving to claw at his neck.

There's bugs under his burns, squirming, wriggling, crawling. He needs them out, he has to get them out, if he doesn't they'll infect him and he'll die. He'll die, he'll die- He'll die-

Out out out out out out out out out out out out out-

He has to get the bugs out.

Chapter Text

Tubbo gingerly accepts the flower crown Tommy passes him.

It's made of yellow flowers, soft and so delicately woven, every bit of it feels filled with love, and that makes Tubbo's heart ache so fiercely. On Tommy's head sits a red one, and on Ghostbur's, blue.

"Thank you," He whispers, gently setting it atop his head. It sits funny, because of his horns, and he thinks he should be angry, or annoyed at the least, but he can't find it in himself to care. 

"daffodils," Tommy says, arms crossing over his chest.

Tubbo nods, feeling lighter than he has since he became president, since Manberg, actually. The flower crown, despite how awkward it sits, feels right on his head, and he can't help the smile that spreads across his face. "Does this mean you forgive me?" He asks in a tiny voice.

"No," Tommy says, and Tubbo bites his lip. "But I'm trying to move on," His shoulders are tense.

"Okay," Tubbo breathes, fingers twitching, itching to dig his fingers into Tommy's shoulders and pull him into a hug. But he doesn't. He doesn't know if he's allowed to do that anymore. And it hurts. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Tommy grumbles, a scowl gracing his young, unusually pale features.

And Tubbo does.

********

"I don't know how you're so shit at this," Tommy says, as he tries to teach Tubbo how to make a flower crown for the millionth time. "We used to do it when we were kids."

They did, but Tubbo's hands shake and they can't do as much as they used to. Perks of trying to block a firework with your hands, he supposes. "I forgot how to," He says instead of any of that, and it's not a complete lie.

Tommy rolls his eyes, but he keeps looking at Tubbo with this look, a look of poorly conciled concern. It's scrutinizing, like he'a trying to figure out what's wrong or what happened. Tubbo wonders if it's the same look he's giving Tommy, who's eye is bruised, and who's hands and lower arms are wrapped in bandages.

He has half a mind to ask about it.

"Are you okay?" Tommy asks before Tubbo get's the chance to, weaving flower stems together. They're purple flowers, Tubbo thinks they're pretty.

"I'm fine?" He says, or tries to, but it sounds more like a question, entirely uncertain.

Tommy glances at him. His eyes are more grey than they are blue. "Your bandages are different."

Tubbo tilts his head, just slightly, so the flower crown doesn't fall off. "Well, yeah?" He says, thoroughly confused. "I just changed them, what do you mean?"

"I mean," Tommy says, obviously irritated as his greyer-than-usual eyes narrow. "There's usually some blood on them, because healing burns or whatever, but there's a lot more than usual."

Oh.

Curse Tommy for being so perceptive.

"Oh," He finds himself saying, tongue pressing against the back of his teeth, thinkimg, thinking. He very well can't tell Tommy that he scratched the hell out of his burns because he thought there was bugs in them. "I accidentally slept on them." He says, and hopes it's a good enough lie.

Tommy clicks his tongue in response, eyes still narrowed, but doesn't say anything further as Ghostbur comes barreling towards them, arms filled with various types of blue flowers. "Look what I got!" He cries brightly, dumping them in front of the two teens. "We should make some for everyone else!"

"That'd be a lot of flower crowns, Ghostbur," Tubbo says gently, speaking like he would to a young child. "We don't have time for that, and," He grabs his communicator, sighing in displeasure at Quackity's messages. "I have to go anyways." He tucks the comm away.

Ghostbur makes a soft whining noise, and for a moment Tubbo thinks Tommy makes a similair sound, but he probably just imagined it, or it was the result of the odd echo to the ghost's voice.

Tommy stands, and offers a hand to Tubbo, who gladly takes it, allowing his brother to pull him to his feet. Once standing he brushes dirt of his suit, vaguely displeased at the beginnings of grass stands on his knees. Quackity will have a cow, Tubbo thinks.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" Tommy asks, in a shockingly small voice.

Tubbo smiles a little. "Yeah, I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

********

The nether is hot, but Tubbo supposes that's a given.

At this point in his life he'd say he was fairly used to it by now, all things considered, but here he is, stumbling along with a ridicoulus amount of sweat dripping down his pale face.

Ugh.

His wobbly legs carry him down paths that he's slightly afraid he may fall off of, until bright green enters his vision and he's forced to stop as it grabs his shoulder.

He squints, and looks up to meet the pinprick eyes of Dream's mask.

"What are you doing here?" Dream asks, voice holding a light air of concern and irritation.

Tubbo swallows down the salvia that has pooled in his mouth at this point, reaching up to wipe sweat out of his eyes. "Going back to L'Manburg," He says easily.

"From where, Tubbo, where were you?"

"Visiting Tommy," He says, without thinking much of it.

Dream's hand tightens slightly on his shoulder. "Okay." He says breezily. "Tubbo, I'm banning you from visiting Tommy."

Tubbo attempts to recoil, but finds himself, unsurprisingly, unable to break free of Dream's hold. "You can't do that-"

"Ah ah! I can, Tubbo, I control Tommy's exile, and you are banned," He leans down a little, mask inches from Tubbo's face. Tubbo tries to shrink back, and again, to no avail.

"Why?" He asks.

"Because you're a privilege, Tubbo," Dream says lowly, with an air of nonchalance. "And Tommy hasn't been behaving, so that mean privileges get taken away, starting with you."

Tubbo's lips draw back into something akin to a snarl, but before he can argue his legs wobble dangerously, and his vision goes spotty, breaths coming out sharp and sporatic as his head pounds.

"Whoa" Dream wraps his arms around the younger ram, tugging him into his chest, and it would probably feel nice if it wasn't Dream, but unfortunately for him, it is.

And still, Tubbo finds himself leaning into him.

Dream is cold.

"Oookay," Dream says, and then hoists Tubbo into his arms, one under his knees and one supporting his shoulders. "Let's get you home then."

Tubbo doesn't havs it in him to argue against Dream carrying him as his eyes slip closed, surprisingly content with being carried for the time being, although he does wish it was someone else.

Soon enough they go through the portal, and Tubbo clings tight to Dream's shirt, pressing his face against the hooded mans chest to try and force away the bile that rises uncomfortablh in his throat, a soft whining noise escaping him.

"Dream," Comes Quackity's voice, and right, they were waiting for him. "What are you doing with him?"

"I found him in the nether, and he almost passed out. Would you rather I just leave him him to die of the heat if the piglins didn't get him first?" Dream says sharply, hand tightening almost possesively around Tubbo's small form.

He hears Quackity's sharp intake of breath, but before he can actually say anything Ranboo pipes up, voice much closer than Tubbo had expected. "Thank you," He says softly. "I can take him from here,"

with that he's passed from Dream's arms to Ranboo, and he looses the tenseness he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

And Ranboo briskly walks away.

Tubbo peaks an eye open, breifly catching a glimpse of Ranboo, and shuts them again as the sun assaults his eyes.

And he's content to be silent as Ranboo once again carries him through L'Manburg, and eventaully to his bed. Again

"We have to stop doing this," Tubbo says as Ranboo adjusts his blanket, and his facd twists up into confusion and worry, hamds stilling, so Tubbo smilea reasuringly, trying to put more of a joking tone in his voice as he adds "Letting you take me to bed,"

Ranboo makes almostva chuffing sound and shakes his head, almost disapointed but certainly fond, and Tubbo smiles just a little wider. "It seems someone has to," He says, warmth creeping into his tone as he finishes with the blanket. "And I'm glad too."

Tubbo hadn't expected Ranboo to react to his dumb joke, but he certainly didn't mind it.

"Is it okay if I check on you again?" Ranboo asks gently, and Tubbo finds himself nodding. "Okay, sleep now then, I'll come back later, and try to keep Quackity from rampaging until then."

Tubbo smiles, nods, and Tubbo does.

And it's one of the best rests he's had since Manberg.

Chapter Text

Mindlessly, Tubbo signs his name on paperwork in his typical, maybe a little worse, messy scrawl, and puts it in the pile to be handed off to Fundy, and probably Quackity, too, despite it not being his job.

Quackity, it seemed, like to make everything his job.

He hasn't been able to visit Tommy, not since Dream had banned it. He had tried, he really did, but Dream was always there, one step ahead, never letting Tubbo get past. Each and every time Tubbo got a more severe warning then the last, and he was getting close to folding and giving up.

He flexes his fingers, rotating his wrist and attempting to work out the pain from writing for so long. He hardly has anything else to do, especially with Quackity breathing down his neck.

He sighs, hunching back over to write on another document, when the door opens. Grateful for something else to focus on, he looks up as Fundy reaches out for the stack of papers.

"For me?" He asks, and scoops them up when Tubbo nods.

He thumbs through them, and Tubbo notices he doesn't read them at all.

Tubbo turns back to continue writing, and then Fundy says, "We should exile Phil."

Tubbo stills, tremoring hand clenching around his pen. "What?" He doesn't think he's liked Phil in a long time, but the man still took him in when he was left by the person who was supposed to love him the most.

"He's in with Techno, y'know. He isn't trustworthy, he shouldn't just be allowed here," Fundy shifts in the corner of Tubbo's eye. "And he killed Wilbur."

Tubbo almost wants to be angry, but he doesn't think he has the right. Wilbur was Fundy's father, after all.

"Wilbur was going to die no matter what," Tubbo does not want to have this conversation. "He went off the deep end, it's not- it's not Phil's fault. Wilbur asked for it."

"If Tommy was suicidal, would you kill him just because he asked?" Fundy asks, and Tubbo flinches. "If he was suicidal, and Phil killed him because he asked, would you be mad?"

Tubbo thinks if he still had strength in his hands he would have snapped the pen in half. He wishes he could, wishes the ink would spew and give him a reason to escape without making it obvious. "Stop it," is what he manages instead of what he wishes he could do.

"How do you think I feel, having to see my father's murderer every day? I didn't agree with Wilbur, can't even say I really liked him that much, but he was my dad, and he was unwell, so Phil just.. killed him," Fundy sounds bitter, angry, and when Tubbo glances over at him his beady eyes are alight with rage.

"I'm not exiling Phil," Tubbo whispers, feeling his stomach swirl with guilt, both old and new. "He didn't- he hasn't done anything to new L'Manburg," and he's my dad, Tubbo wants to say. And Wilbur was my brother. But he doesn't.

Fundy's eyes narrow, and it's almost scary. Tubbo doesn't remember the last time he'd been on the receiving end of Fundy's wrath. "Fine," he snaps, and Tubbo swears his eyes are wet as he snatches up the paper and storms out of the office.

Tubbo sucks in a sharp breath and wills himself not to cry, instead setting his pen down and gathering his papers into a neat-ish pile, and heads out as well.

Fundy is nowhere to be seen, and Tubbo is glad for that.

He finds himself walking the length of L'Manburg, having nowhere to go as he's no longer allowed to visit Tommy.

He ends up at the outskirts, where there's still rubble from the explosions and withers. He was one of the few people truly dedicated to cleaning everything up, though he barely had time for it.

He digs through his inventory, only to discover he hasn't brought any tools to dig up stone and mud and replace it.

So he gets on his knees and uses his hands.

He can hardly even pull up dirt due to the weakness of his hands, and it's painful, but he does it. He has to do something, and no one else will do it.

His hands bleed from the stone, up to his elbows are covered with dirt. More specifically, his suit is covered with dirt.

He digs up bits of TNT and wither pieces, planks and various other pieces of buildings. He shoves them all in his inventory to throw away later. He doesn't have fresh soil to replace the old ones, so he just keeps digging.

And at some point, it becomes less about fixing and more about getting the rot out.

He digs a hole that goes up to his waist when Quackity finds him.

"What the fuck!" He shouts, and Tubbo doesn't have the energy to react. "You've been gone for hours, I've been looking in the nether thinking you went off to Tommy and got yourself fucking killed, and then I find you here playing in the dirt!"

"Not playing," Tubbo murmurs, and as he reaches out to bury his hands in the earth Quackity grabs under his arm and pulls him out of the hole.

"Get out, stop it," Quackity snaps, slapping Tubbo's hand, letting out a startled yell when Tubbo shrieks in pain.

"Fucking Prime, what the hell is wrong with you? You ruined your hands!" Quackity yells, his voice is only getting louder and louder.

Tubbo laughs. His hands are already ruined, what's a bit more?

Quackity hauls him to his feet and practically drags him back to his office, tapping on his communicator with one hand all the while.

He forcefully sits Tubbo down in his chair, and the President watches with interest as dirt and his own blood makes a mess of the floor.

Seconds later his hands are being cleaned, and seconds after that Ranboo and Fundy are there, staring down at him.

Ranboo looks worried, in a soft, gentle way, a contrast to Quackity's angry and harsh concern. Fundy just looks angry, Tubbo has a pretty good idea why.

Ranboo takes over fixing up Tubbo's hands as Quackity leaves to grab a broom, and Fundy just stands there.

Tubbo leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, feeling himself getting more and more distant by the second.

Chapter Text

When Tubbo wakes up he's in his bed in pajamas. 

Chapter Text

Slowly, Tubbo catches his breath.

His shoulder aches and spasms with every breath, and he knows he's going to have to put his arm in a sling. Dammit, what the hell is he going to tell Quackity?

The thought of Quackity is enough to keep him on the ground. What is he going to do? He can't visit Tommy, he can't trust Quackity or Fundy, he's alone. Well, there's Ranboo, and so far he's been nothing but kind and loyal, but Tubbo.. Tubbo is afraid.

He has been let down far too many times. Betrayed.

"What a pathetic sight," A voice says, and Tubbo jumps, immediately recognizing it.

Please, no, he pleads to the sky, though he knows he will get no answer. He stopped believing in God's a long time ago. "Go away," he grits out, squeezing his eyes shut, and hopes it'll leave if he doesn't look. He can't do this, not now, not ever.

"Oh, come on, Tubbo. You need to show more respect to your dad," Schlatt says, dark and smug, and if he wasn't already dead Tubbo thinks he would kill him.

"Your not my dad," he breathes, too tired and weak to really fight back. He's in pain, he's lost everyone, he just wants to go to bed. He can't fucking do this. "Get away from me. Go away." Please, he almost wants to say.

"Denial doesn't change the truth," The ghost says, and Tubbo feels his shoe nudge against his shoulder. He barely bites back a noise of pain, desperate to not look weaker than he already does. "I'm in your blood, kid. Nothin' you can do to change that. Nothing."

The Rot is in him. It will never leave.

Tubbo forces himself to stand. He wavers, feeling like he could fall at any moment, but he does not allow himself to. He refuses to. And he summons his sword to his left hand, because his right arm is fucked, and he swings.

Schlatt cries out as the sword slices his arm, sending blue blood flying, and Tubbo turns and he runs, shoving his sword back into his inventory and grabbing his shoulder to keep it from flailing about and injuring himself further.

He books it to the community house, and jumps into the water that surrounds it, quickly sinking. He knows it was a bad idea, but Schlatt burns in water, and Tubbo just wants to be left alone.

Pulling himself up to the surface is incredibly difficult with only one arm, and by the time he manages it his vision is going spotty from lack of air, and the second he burst through the water he gasps and coughs up water, slowly dragging himself to an area that's high enough where he can stand.

Schlatt stands at the edge of the water, and upon seeing Tubbo come up he throws his arms out. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He shouts, large and threatening.

Tubbo scoops up water in his hand, and he flings it.

It lands on the ghost with a sizzling hiss, burning through the ram with ease as he cries out in pain. "Fuck! Dammit, Tubbo! You can't stay in there forever," Schlatt snarls, looking animalistic in his rage, and Tubbo finds himself sinking lower into the water. "And when you come out, oh boy, I don't even know what I'll do yet, but it sure isn't going to be fucking good, you-"

"Hey!" Someone shouts, and for a moment Tubbo is afraid, and then he realizes it's Eret. He doesn't know if he'll ever be happier to see them. "What- leave him alone! Go, get away!" They pull out their sword and a pot out of their inventory as they head towards the ghost and President, tall and menacing.

"God dammit," Schlatt hisses, briefly eyeing Eret's sword. "Fuck, this- this isn't over Tubbo, you are not getting away with this-" Schlatt is large and angry, but another look at Eret sends him scrambling away and quickly out of sight.

Tubbo feels some of the tension he was holding fade away, glad to be rid of one problem for now.

"Hey," Eret crouches in front of the water, holding a hand out. "Sorry if this is awkward, I just.. couldn't let him mess with you. I didn't even know he came back as a ghost, honestly,"

Tubbo gently accepts their hand. "Its.. okay, most people don't know, I think. He just loves to torment me," He laughs, but it's joyless, and allows Eret to pull him out of the water. "Um, thank you,"

Eret smiles, that comforting smile that Tubbo has missed. Gods, how he's missed Eret. That smile drops suddenly when Tubbo goes back to holding his shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

Tubbo winces. "I.. uh. Dislocated it, um, it's back in but.. it hurts. I need a sling, I think."

Eret nods slowly, mouth pressed into a thin, worried line. "Okay, I can do that," they say with a small nod. "Yes, I have supplies at my castle, and dry clothes, too."

Tubbo doesn't know if he wants to go to Eret's castle, but he definitely knows he doesn't want to go back to L'Manburg, so he nods, accepting the invitation, and follows Eret back to their home.

The castle is cold, and a violent shiver is quick to wrack Tubbo's small frame, and he huddles in on himself as much as he can.

"Sorry," Eret is quick to apologize, digging through a nearby chest. "It.. yeah, its cold, and your wet so it's worse.." they trail with a small shake of their head, and pull a large towel and a pair of clothes out of the chest. They carefully drape the towel around Tubbo's shoulders, and hold the clothes close to themselves. "I might.. have to help you, if you're okay with that. Plus, we should change your bandages, they're all wet.."

Tubbo nods, and allows Eret to help him out of his suit top and undershirt so they can work on his bandages.

They're quick and gentle, easily and expertly replacing the wet bandages, and after they help Tubbo change, because getting changed with only one arm was hard.

"There you go," Eret says, deep and comforting after finishing up the sling. "You should be good to go,"

"Do you know how to dye hair?" Tubbo blurts out, instead of a 'thank you' or 'goodbye'.

"I- yes, I do," it takes Eret a second to respond. "Do.. do you want me to dye your hair?"

"Please. I want to be blonde."

Chapter Text

"All done!" Eret announces, running their fingers through Tubbo's now blonde hair, fluffing it out. "Here, you can look now," they place their hands on Tubbo's shoulders and lead him to the mirror.

He had caught glimpses of his hair before, it was long enough that it hung over his eyes, but looking in the mirror is almost startling. He.. he's blonde. He looks like Phil. Like Tommy.

He sucks in a sharp breath, reaching up and running his fingers through his bangs. He.. almost looks like himself. He can't rid himself of the hybrid features that make him look so much like Schlatt, but at least it's better now. At least Tubbo doesn't flinch when he gets a glance at himself in the mirror. Hopefully Quackity won't tense up around him anymore.

"Do you like it?" Eret asks, hovering worriedly as Tubbo's eye fills with tears.

"I do," Tubbo says quietly, lowering his hand from his hair. He looks like Tommy. Fuck, he misses Tommy. "Thank- thank you, Eret. Thank you so much," He turns to face the king behind him.

Eret smiles, that gentle smile that Tubbo misses. "Its no problem, I'm really glad you like it," They're voice is so genuine, Tubbo has.. missed them, greatly.

But there is still that ever present sting of betrayal. Of being led into an obsidian room to be slaughtered. The loss of his first life burns.

Why does he always get betrayed by his friends?

He thinks he is still angry, but he also thinks he doesn't deserve to be. Eret fought for L'Manburg against Schlatt, Eret saved Tubbo from Schlatt, Eret dyed Tubbo's hair. "Thank you. I.. should probably get back," He does not deserve to be angry, Eret has done more good than bad, (but the bad was so fucking bad) and Tubbo needs to let it go.

(Skewered by a netherite sword, sobbing over the betrayal of one of his family members. Eret used to be family, as much as Tommy and Wilbur are-were- as much as Fundy is.

Fundy, who looks at him with anger and distaste, with disgust)

"You.. you're welcome in L'manburg anytime, Eret," Tubbo forces a smile. He is so tired of being angry.

Eret smiles, (Tubbo used to be so good at reading their expression) hands clasping behind their back. "Thank you- so much, I really do appreciate it," They bow their head a bit, and Tubbo takes that as his cue to leave, desperate to leave before he breaks.

He is so tired of being sad.

He get's back just in time to watch the anvil land on Technoblade's head.

There's the celestial boom as the totem explodes into particles that look like fireworks, and Technoblade's bones reform, skin stitching itself back together. It is gruesome, and Tubbo vaguely thinks he may vomit.

Punz is attacking Fundy and Ranboo. Quackity has his hand on a lever, and is shouting.

How long has Tubbo been gone? "WHAT THE FUCK?" He screams.

Technoblade, now standing on the anvil, uses its height to hoist himself out of his cage, and takes off. Quackity follows after.

"No!" Tubbo shouts, grabbing a hold of his Vice President's arm as he attempts to run past. "Q, don't you dare!-" But Quackity rips out of his grip like it was nothing.

Whatthefuckwhatthefuck-

He yelps as an arrow sticks in the wood by his feet, and he turns in time to see Punz vault away, sprinting away from Fundy, who goes to chase after.

"Don't!" Tubbo shouts, his voice holding more authority than he thinks it ever has. And Fundy stops, beady eyes wide.

"Tubbo," Ranboo says. "You're blond."

And Tubbo laughs.

It's manic, peeling laughter that startles even himself. "What the fuck," he cackles. "Is wrong with you? Both of you? But especially," he leans over, the laughter shaking his body. "You, Ranboo. I can't.." I trusted you goes unsaid as all their comms ping, the notification sound reserved for death.

Tubbo keeps laughing when he sees the message.

Quackity was slain by Technoblade.

"Tubbo," Ranboo says, and Tubbo stops laughing.

"No," He snaps. "I don't want to hear a single thing. Where is Quackity's respawn point?"

"Tubbo.." Ranboo says again.

"His house," Fundy says, quiet and nervous, and Tubbo feels bad but he also feels good. Fina-fucking-lly! He's being listened to!

"Good," He says dryly. "We're going there and waiting for him to respawn. I don't want to hear a single thing until he's back, and when he is I am going to talk, and you will listen,"

"But-" Ranboo starts.

"No," Tubbo snarls. "I am so tired of being disrespected, ignored, and walked over. You will do as I say. There is no but. I will listen to you after I have said what I need to say, and it will have to wait, because I will not be repeating it."

Ranboo goes quiet, ears lowering.

Tubbo is so tired of not standing his ground.

Fundy leads the way to Quackity's house, and Tubbo finds himself pleased by their silence, though Ranboo keeps looking at him, specifically his hair and his arm, but he does not say a word.

He sits on a chest in front of Quackity's bed, leaning back against the wall. Now, all they can do it wait. Fundy and Ranboo mill about, tending to each other's wounds. Tubbo does not move, will not help. He is so fucking tired.

He just gas to make it until February, he tells himself. They'll have the election, and then Tubbo won't have to be responsible anymore, he just has to get there, because it's his job. He cannot just quit being President, that is not how it works. No matter what Fundy and Quackity may want.

It's hours until Quackity respawns, and he screams. 

Blood is gushing from his eye, and Tubbo quickly springs up, rushing to press his hand over the wound. Technoblade was not known for his mercy, he thinks grimly. Fundy and Ranboo rush over as well, pulling various healing items out of their inventories, which Tubbo is grateful for. He was not planning on dealing with something like this today.

Fundy moves Tubbo's hand aside to press gauze down on the wound.

Tubbo stares at his hand, at the blood.

He feels sick.

His head spins, and he's burning, burning, burning. His vision blurs, and everything becomes terribly muffled. He's vaguely aware of someone moving him, of sitting him down, but only barely.

Blood and war and violence, and blood and war- and it's never going to stop, he realizes. Everything he does is pointless, violence will continue forever, everyone will fight over anything and everything, why does he try? What can he do?

Quackity is panting, Fundy is standing over him, one arm around Quackity's back, keeping him propped up.

"W- what's going on?" The duck hybrid asks, half his face covered in bandages, and Tubbo almost laughs now. They match.

"You tried to execute Tehcnoblade," Tubbo sticks his twitching hand in his pocket, staring down at his cabinet. "I want to know why the fuck you thought you could go against me. I directly told you not to do that!"

"I-" "Quackity made me!" Ranboo explodes, and his face flushes. It's funny, on the white side of his face he blushes black, and does the opposite on the other. His ears lower, and he nervously wrings his hands. "I'm sorry, I'm so- so sorry, he.. he threatened my cat, said he was going to kill her, and- and I know it's dumb but she.. I need her, I didn't want to lose her, I'm so sorry, so sorry-"

"Quackity," He almost doesn't recognize his own voice, startled by the rage within it.

"C- Come on, man," Quackity wheezes, rather pathetically. He looks ridiculously small, depending on Fundy to stay upright and trembling. "Have s- some compassion, can't we d- do this later? Ya know, after I've had some t- time to recover?"

"No," Tubbo says, sharp and without sympathy. "This is consequence, the natural punishment for your choices, and you will endure it. Did you threaten Ranboo?"

Quackity does not respond, but he holds Tubbo's gaze all the same, an act that feels a lot like defiance. Defiance that hardly phases him anymore, if it did they probably wouldn't be where they are now.

"Ranboo, stand with me," The President says, and Ranboo is quick to do so, ears lowered and tail pressed against the floor.

"..I like your hair, by the way," He whispers.

Tubbo almost smiles. Almost.

"What the h-hell? You're trusting h-him over me? I'm your V-Vice President! I've known you w-way longer!" Despite the anger in Quackity's tone, it still comes off as weak. He shakes against Fundy, unable to keep himself upright, and Tubbo is just.. so fucking angry, he can't find it in himself to feel bad. "This- t-this is ridiculous, m-man,"

"And yet," Tubbo says lowly. "You broke my trust, so why should I believe you? Ranboo has been nothing but kind, trustworthy, even. But you tried to kill Technoblade." He takes a deep breath, shaking his head a little. He cannot let this go, he can't keep letting them get away. "And you want to remove my Presidency."

Both Quackity and Fundy tense, eyes immediately going to Ranboo, who tries to hide behind Tubbo as if he isn't a good few feet taller. 

"Do not look at him," Tubbo snaps, pulling his hand out of his pocket to rub at his chest. Burning, burning, burning. "I am speaking to you! You both have no right to talk behind my back about something like that! I am your President, but I thought I was also your friend. Now I know I was fooling myself. All you two do is undermine me, disrespect me, and do whatever the hell you want! I am tired of it, I am tired of you."

Fundy's eyes narrow into slits. "You don't understand what working under you is like. You don't do anything. You let everyone run all over you, we're just picking up the slack."

Tubbo bristles. He is trying to prevent fucking war.

"You.. y-you should h-have seen yourself, the d-day we discussed your P-Presidency," Quackity manages, though he seems to be slipping more each second that goes by, blinking lethargically. "You a-aren't fit for this. Everyone knows."

Blood and war and violence, and war and blood. 

He's embarrassed about that day. He doesn't really remember, but Ranboo told him enough. He knows he isn't doing well mentally, but that doesn't mean anything. He isn't abusing his cabinet or blowing up the nation, so in his opinion he's doing fucking amazing.

"None of that matters! You would not have done this to Wilbur," His gaze lands on Fundy, and then slides to Quackity. "And you would not have done this to Schlatt. I am trying to be better! I'm doing my fucking best, and you two are pushing me to my breaking point!" He's yelling now, voice peaking uncomfortably, but he pays it little mind. "L'Manburg is fragile, seconds away from falling apart if one of our enemies blows on it. We cannot afford that, not a third time."

He runs his hand over his face, exhausted. He wishes he believed in a God so he could pray to it, right now. He needs to clean up the execution area, make a public service announcement, and start war preparations. Technoblade will not let this stand.

God, L'Manburg is going to fall, isn't it?

"I have things to do," He straightens back up, and tries to hold his fraying edges together. "You two will stay here. I don't know what I'm going to do with you yet, I don't even know if I want you two on my cabinet anymore, seeing as I can no longer trust you."

Both of them go to protest, but Tubbo pays them no mind, merely gesturing for Ranboo to follow him out.

"..how did you find Technoblade?" He asks.

Ranboo winces. "Um, Philza," He says.

..fuck.

Chapter Text

Tubbo's hands- no, his entire body shakes as he knocks on Philza's door.

The last time he talked to Phil was.. after Wilbur's death. The man's face had been puffy and wet, his hands stained with his sons blood as Tubbo asked for his wisdom in his cabinet.

Phil had agreed, but never showed up.

God, Tubbo needs that wisdom now.

The door opens, and Tubbo comes face to face with Philza Minecraft in all his glory, one eyebrow raising as he moves to the side to let them in.

"Hi, Phil," He chokes out, grateful for Ranboo's looming presence behind him.

Phil doesn't respond, his face neutral as he looks at the pair in front of him. Tubbo feels sick, and he shoves his shaking hand in his pocket, standing up straight and professional. As the President should be.

"I want to formally apologize to you for my cabinet's actions, I assure you I will be taking my own actions to correct this, I-"

"You almost killed my best friend," Phil says sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. "He could have died."

Tubbo swallows compulsively. "I.. I'm sorry, it wasn't me, I didn't authorize that, Phil, I promise," he just wants Phil to see him for once.

"You're the President," Phil spreads an arm out, his tatters wings bunched up on the ground. "You are responsible for their actions, that's how being in charge works."

Tubbo feels.. small, again. He feels like he's ten years old wondering why Phil doesn't love him?

"Look at my house!" Phil's voice raises as he throws his other arm out in agitation, gesturing around them.

It's a disaster, furniture is overturned, chests are open or smashed with their contents spilled all over the floor. Rugs are flipped, decorations are thrown aside. Nothing has gone untouched. Tubbo wilts.

"Look at my ankle," Phil's voice goes from loud angry to quiet anger, soft and seething. It's scary, and part of Tubbo wants to run away, to hide and never come out. He can't do this- he can't- he looks down, at the ankle moniter.

He drops to his knees and wonders where the fuck Quackity got it from as he desperately tries to get it off with one hand. Pulling at it, running over the seems and trying to open it without a key. "Oh my God-" he gasps, pulling, pulling. He has to get it off, he has to fix it. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"Tubbo," Ranboo says, quiet and nervous as Phil takes a step back with the foot that isn't connected to the monitor.

Tubbo pays him no mind, just continuing to pull and claw at the item, but it doesn't budge. He's too weak to do anything but injure himself. He's pathetic, pathetic and small and useless. "I'm so- I'm so sorry, Phil," His hands shake, nails beginning to bleed.

"Tubbo," Ranboo says again, gently, crouching down and placing a hand on the President's shoulder, pulling him away. "It's okay, don't hurt yourself. I have a key," as he says it he holds it up infront of Tubbo's face, and he flushes red.

Of course there's a key, he should have asked about it earlier. Oh, God, he's so stupid. He pulls his shaking, bleeding hand away and allows Ranboo to unlock the monitor, pulling it off with a click.

Now he's embarrassed, and he hangs his head low as Ranboo helps him to his feet. He's a mess, maybe Quackity and Fundy were right to consider making him step down from Presidency.

Quickly, Tubbo swipes his arm across his face and strands up straight again, trying to seem bigger than he actually is. Better, more put together.

He misses Wilbur.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "Truly, Phil. I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure you're safe here. I- I'll pay for all the damage or get you new things, I'll make sure no one bothers you anymore, I promise." Tubbo says firmly. "I- I really am happy you're here, Phil. And I hope you are too."

"Tubbo-" Phil starts, but Tubbo doesn't let him finish.

"I know we haven't really talked since-" Schlatt, Wilbur, Technoblade. Schlatt, Wilbur, Technoblade, Dream. "The war, but I- I'm glad you're here, I appreciate it so much, and I-"

"I'm leaving." Phil interrupts, and he's not even looking at Tubbo anymore. "I'm leaving L'Manburg." He clarifies.

And suddenly it's like Tubbo's heart has been pulled from his chest and ripped in two.

"Oh." He whispers. How could he be so stupid to believe his dad would stay here? "Right. Of course."

Phil looks uncomfortable, shifting on his feet and looking anywhere but Tubbo. That's alright, he's used to it anyways.

He swallows back agony, and tears. It almost feels like he's mourning again. "We'll.. we'll get out of here and let you prepare." Tubbo says stiffly, backing towards the door. "If.. If you need anything just let me know." Please don't leave me again.

"Right." Phil says. "Will do." Liar.

Tubbo turns tail and bolts out the house, barely catching himself before he smashes face first into the wood below him. He doesn't know if things could have gone any worse. Things keep happening, everything keeps stacking up, he thinks this is one of the worst days of his life aside from-

Burning, burning, burning!

God, he doesn't know how it could get any worse.

Suddenly, there's a cold hand on his back. A gentle, steady presence. "Tubbo?" Ranboo says, careful, soft. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Tubbo inhales sharply, tries to keep from breaking down. How stupid was he to think that Phil would stay? To hope that he would care.

Tubbo was just an abandoned kid he found and felt too bad to leave on the side of that road. He wasn't Phil's family, wasn't his son, just a burden to watch over because Tommy got attached.

Ranboo's hand rubs slow circles over his back as they stand outside of Phil's house. Can he see them? Is he watching through a window, watching Tubbo fall apart?

Would he care? Would he regret his choices, will he come out to see him, to comfort him? To fix this?

He gasps, sharply, feeling like the air is being crushed out of his lungs as his legs turn to jelly. He'd have fallen flat on his face if it wasn't for Ranboo's quick reaction, grabbing a hold of him and lowering him to the ground at a safe pace.

He hunches over, wrapping his arm around his stomach as he tries to breathe, chest heaving with panic.

He knows he looks like a mess, covered in tears and snot and drool, but Ranboo stays, pressed up against Tubbo's side as he continues rubbing his back, whispering things Tubbo doesn't make out, but his voice is soothing anyways.

He doesn't know how long they sit like that until someone calls his name, and his head snaps up to meet Ghostbur's eyes.

It feels like the breath is knocked out of him again as Ghostbur wraps him up in a hug, though his 'body' is cold and uncomfortable to touch, Tubbo latches on. He desperately craves the comfort of his older brother, even if it's.. not really him, anymore.

"Ghostbur," he gasps, hand fisted in the back of his yellow sweater. "Oh my God, G-Ghostbur, how did- where-" he looks around, half expecting Tommy to be somewhere nearby. They were together, weren't they? "Is- where's Tommy?"

"I don't know!" Ghostbur says into his shoulder, his voice cheery as always. "I got lost, and Technoblade found me!" Tubbo goes stiff, and Ghostbur pulls back. "And then.. he found me," Ghostbur points to Ranboo. "And now I found you!" He says brightly, finger pressing against Tubbo's chest.

"He just kind of.. came along with us," Ranboo confesses. "Him and his.. sheep?"

"Oh, yes," Ghostbur says sagely, noding along. "My friend, Friend! He's over there!" He turns, pointing to a fence post that does indeed have a sheep tied to it, a blue one.

Tubbo blinks a couple times, only a little off put by the absurdity of it all. "Right.. um, is Tommy okay?"

Ghostbur turns back, dead eyes fixed on Tubbo once again. "I have no idea!" He says, and then get's to his feet to run for the sheep, untying it's lead.

Tubbo shakes his head a little, and stands on weakened legs. "I'm going to go see him," he says, not facing Ranboo as the Ender hybrid gets up as well. "I'll be back soon, you're.. in charge, if anything happens. Um, message me, I'll pay attention to it I promise."

"Wait," Ranboo grabs his shoulder, gentle as always, and Tubbo turns to face his wide eyes. "Can we please talk about that? A- about Quackity and Fundy," Tubbo winces. "And Phil,'" Tubbo flinches. "I- I'm so confused, I don't understand what just happened and it feels like I never understand anything. I- I feel so lost all of the time. Please, I don't understand what happened with Technoblade, and with Phil just now- and.. Schlatt. Please, help me understand-"

"I'm sorry-" Tubbo gasps, stepping backwards. "I can't, I have to go-" he spins on his heels and runs, past Ghostbur, heading towards the nether portal. He thinks he hears Ranboo shout his name, but he can't stop. He has- he has to leave.

Quackity and Fundy betrayed him, Phil was leaving, Wilbur was dead, Tubbo needs Tommy more than ever. He needs someone who has always been there, someone who is giving him a second chance. He needs his best friend, his little brother.

He nearly trips over his feet as he runs, heart thudding in his ears. He already tried today, and Dream dislocated his shoulder for it. Something more permanent was the threat Dream made, and his shoulder throbs at the memory.

But he needs to see Tommy, more than he ever has. He'll deal with Dream when he gets there, he just..

He needs someone he can truly trust. Ranboo.. is almost there, Tubbo acknowledged it in front of him to his own cabinet, he's only ever shown himself to be trustworthy. But Tubbo has a reluctance to ever put his trust in anyone ever again. If he couldn't trust his family, who could he?

Eret. Quackity. Fundy. Wilbur.

Even Dream betrayed him, they were friends. Kind of. Before Dream came down on them with a demand for Tommy's prized possession.

Technoblade was on his side and still shot him full of explosives.

Wilbur handed him his country, and then blew it up in his face. Set for failure the second he stepped up on that damn podium.

He nearly crashes into the frame of the portal in his haste, but he successfully makes it in. The heat is awful and makes his head spin. More than once does he nearly fall off the path, wishing someone would put up railings or something like that, but he makes it through, greedily sucking in the cold night air as he collapses on the grass.

Something is.. wrong. Holes are blown up in the ground, dirt a debris scattered everywhere. He stumbles to his feet, heart hammering uncomfortably in his chest. "Tommy?" He calls out warily, and starts heading towards Logstedshire.

It doesn't take long to realize there's a tower of dirt looming above him. It takes less to realize why such a tower would exist in the middle of nothing.

No one makes a tower like that intending to survive. There's no point.

Tommy isn't here, instead, there is a tower.

It feels like his world has dropped out from under him. He wonders if maybe he should build a tower, too.