Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

L’Manburg was everything to Tubbo. It was his Atlantis, his Utopia, his Garden of Eden. 

It was a warm, safe, and comfortable place. One that Tubbo was proud to call his home. It was everything that they had fought for, and yet it was so much more. 

All good things didn’t last, however. 

The election had proved a turning point in L’Manburg’s history. A period that would forever stain it’s shining records for years to come, for it was the day that Schlatt had been elected into office. 

Normally, new leaders were to be celebrated, as they would be the ones to lead the country into an age of prosperity and wealth. 

While an abundance in wealth and success was what Schlatt promised, it wasn’t something he had provided. Instead, he had forced the nation to his knees. Destroying everything that made L’Manburg the special place that it was, destroying everything that made it home.

And, to further rub salt into the wound, he had exiled former President and Vice President, Wilbur Soot, and Tommy Innit. 

It both amazed and depressed Tubbo just how quickly L’Manburg’s people had turned on their founding fathers. As if the two were nothing but pest that had to be exterminated, nothing more than cockroaches.

It was sometime after that Schlatt had called Tubbo up to the podium. He announced that  Tubbo was his right-hand man, his assistant, his partner in crime, to the rest of the country. The man had said it so cheerfully, that someone would’ve easily thought that Tubbo had been rooting for their campaign to succeed the whole time.

Schlatt’s kindness towards Tubbo had nearly made the younger sick. He had no interest in being Schlatt’s ‘Right-Hand Man’ as he so-called it. He wanted nothing to do with the man who had banished his best friend.

Tubbo, however, made none of those things known as he walked up to the podium. In truth, he was afraid of what Schlatt would do to him if he said no. 

He had ignored Tommy’s confused, hurt-filled voice as he accepted Schlatt’s position, and he had ignored the shame that crawled down his neck soon after.

At the very least, he got to wear his L’Manburg uniform during the ceremony. The uniform may mean nothing anymore, but it was counted as a victory in Tubbo’s book, as short-lived as it was.

The election had only been over for a few hours, but Tubbo felt like he had been crying for days. Salty tears had stained his face with ugly streaks that stretched down to his chin. Snot and mucus dribbled down his lips, and his eyes were rimmed an unsightly pale red.

There was a sharp inhalation before every choked sob. A futile attempt of getting the crying to stop. 

By the time someone knocked on Tubbo’s door, his sobs had turned into nothing but dry coughs and heaves. 

He tried desperately to control his weeping, but all he succeeded in doing was making the tears fall harder. 

The person outside, tired of waiting for an answer, let themselves in. The sight alone was almost enough to silence Tubbo’s ceaseless weeping altogether. Almost . 

President Schlatt stood in the boy’s doorway, regarding him a look that someone might say was sympathetic. 

“What’cha crying about, kid?” He asked with a frown, approaching Tubbo and sitting down on the bed beside him. 

Staring at Tubbo expectantly, he received no answer aside from some gasps and whimpers. The boy notably avoided his gaze. 

“If this is about Tommy and Wilbur, then I understand. I’ve lost friends too, y’know.” Schlatt told him, an unknown inflection in his tone. 

The statement made Tubbo eyes snap up to Schlatt. How dare he say he knew the pain Tubbo was going through when he was the one who induced it? The boy couldn’t imagine Schlatt with friends of his own, not like Tubbo. The man was a devil. A fiendish snake that had the gall to parade around in human flesh. A monster that mocked everything that Wilbur and Tommy had stood for. 

All those things were what Tubbo wished to say to Schlatt, but all he managed to do was sob even harder. Sadness mixed with an anger and loathing that Tubbo wasn’t accustomed too.

Tubbo felt Schlatt place a hand on the small of his back, rubbing it in small circles. Though meant to be a comforting gesture, the action made him flinch. 

Nonetheless, Schlatt was still there by the time Tubbo’s crying had stopped. His tears stopped only by the lack of hydration needed to produce more. 

After a few minutes of silence, Schlatt seemed satisfied enough to leave Tubbo’s chambers, exiting without a word. 

A few days had passed since the election, and Tubbo quickly realized that serving under Schatt was a lot different than serving under Wilbur. 

For one, Schatt had forced any and all members of his administration to wear suits similar to his own. 

Tubbo could remember well the day he received his. Schlatt had burst into his bedroom early in the morning, so early that the sun had barely risen. It wasn’t uncommon for him to enter Tubbo’s chambers uninvited, it happened a lot ever since Tubbo’s belongings were moved into one of the White House’s spare rooms. But this was the first time he had ever arrived with what appeared to be a present tucked under one arm. 

“Tubbo, my right-hand man, I got you something!” Schlatt had beamed. The man’s child-like glee at that moment had made him seem so much younger.

He had pushed the box into Tubbo’s arms excitedly, waiting for him to open it.

Tubbo, upon unwrapping his gift, wasn’t nearly as thrilled as Schlatt seemed to be, or at all, really. The suit would mean that he would no longer be able to wear his L’Manburg uniform anymore and that he’d lose all the ties that still connected him with the country L’Manburg used to be.

But Tubbo knew his place well, and that place was under Schlatt. So, with a quick ‘Thank you’ , Tubbo ushered the man out of his room to change.

With Schlatt gone, Tubbo was free to stare at the suit in utter disgust. He hated the thing, truly. He hated how perfectly it fit him, and he hated how nice he thought it made him look even more. The suit accented his waist and broadened his shoulders. Made him look far stronger than the uniform ever made his look.

Still, Tubbo wouldn’t let go of L’Manburg’s identity that quickly. He removed the pin off of his old uniform and stuck it to his dress coat. It was a simple pin of L’Manburg’s flag, originally given to him by Wilbur.

With that, Tubbo swung open his bedroom door, preparing to start the long list of chores Schlatt had planned for him only to be stopped by the man himself, who had apparently been standing outside Tubbo’s chambers the entire time. 

He had scanned Tubbo bottom to top before frowning.

“What is it?” Tubbo questioned, dread creeping up his throat. Nothing good ever came from Schlatt when he was angry at something. 

“You didn’t fix your hair,” Schlatt had responded plainly. And before Tubbo even had the chance to start fixing it himself, Schlatt was already on him, combing his fingers roughly through the boy’s brunette locks. He brushed the hair back for a while, before backing off with a satisfied smile. 

“Perfect, now get to work, Tubbo,”   Schlatt commanded as he turned around and began walking towards his respective office for the day. 

Tubbo complied wordlessly, and it wasn’t until later that day, when he was cleaning off his desk, that he saw himself in the reflection of the stained oak wood. 

He had completely frozen at the sight. The boy almost looked like a carbon copy of Schlatt. The only thing different about the two was Tubbo’s sky-blue eyes and Schlatt’s muddy-brown. 

Briefly, Tubbo wondered if Schlatt was anything like him when he was younger.

Tommy and Wilbur had contacted Tubbo three weeks into Schlatt’s presidency. They told him that they believed that Tubbo didn’t really like Schlatt, in which Tubbo agreed too.

They then asked if Tubbo was willing to act as a double agent, a spy on the inside to further their rebellion. Tubbo agreed to that as well. 

With their new ally in tow, the group snuck back to their home base. It was a little hole in the ground that Tommy and Wilbur had lovingly called ‘Pogtopia’ . It was hardly anything compared to L’Manburg, but Tubbo could see its potential. 

The two told Tubbo about everything they’ve been up to since their banishment. From how they established the new land of Pogtopia, to when they recruited the rogue Technoblade to their cause. 

The news of Technoblade had been a shock to Tubbo, but a welcome one nonetheless. He knew the man was a skilled fighter, enough to rival Dream in his prowess. He would be a valuable ally indeed. Perhaps Wilbur had a chance at taking back L’Manburg, after all. Not that Tubbo ever doubted him, of course. 

With an excited grin, Tubbo informed the pair of Schlatt’s whereabouts and the happening going on in L’Manburg. He managed to tell them about how the flag had been burnt to a crisp and how the wall had been reduced to dust before Wilbur stopped him, telling him that he ‘couldn’t bear to hear it anymore.’  

Tommy patted the older man’s back as he led him off somewhere, likely to his chambers, giving Tubbo an apologetic smile as they left.

With the meeting presumably over, Tubbo made his way back to L’Manburg.

Two months after the election, Schlatt had called Tubbo into his office. He had told the boy it was urgent, and to be there as quick as possible. 

When Tubbo arrived in the man’s office, he saw Schlatt sitting idly in his office chair, fiddling absent-mindedly with his nails. Quackity stood beside him, looking around the room anxiously. It looked like he didn’t want to be here. 

Upon seeing Tubbo, Schlatt grinned widely. Showing off all his teeth in a way that made Tubbo uncomfortable. 

“Now that my favorite people are here, let’s get down to business, shall we?” He said, something sinister in his voice. 

The man rose from his chair and approached the closet near his desk, the grin never leaving his face. Quackity inhaled sharply, staring at the closet with a nervous air around him. The behavior didn’t inspire any confidence in Tubbo, who was starting to worry himself. 

Schlatt pulled back the closet door to reveal a man inside.

It wasn’t anybody that Tubbo could recognize. 

The man was tied tightly to a wooden chair, his wrist and ankles bound to their respective legs of the chair. There was a poorly made gag in his mouth, consisting only of a rag that had been stuffed crudely into his mouth. He had a gaping hole where his left knee should be. Tubbo could make out shards of bones sticking out of the exposed muscle like collagen glass. Yellow puss gathered oozed out of the wound like a vile jelly.

The younger man’s eyes widened horrifically at the sight, the color drained from his face, and his lower lip trembled. Tubbo could hear Quackity gagging behind him.

“Prepare yourselves, gentlemen,” Schlatt told both of them. There was a deranged smile on his lips.

“F-For what?” Quackity inquired, his voice trembling as he stared at the bound man like a deer in headlights.

At that moment, Tubbo was thankful that Quackity had spoken, as his throat felt like something was clawing at it, preventing him from speaking.

“To prove your loyalty, of course!” Schlatt replied.

Tubbo started shaking at the words, a hundred emotions going through him at once. The most prominent being horror, dread, anger, and fear.

Schlatt wanted them to kill someone.

To permanently stop the beating of another’s heart irreversibly.

The thought had never terrified him more. Tubbo was no killer, never has been. Not even Tommy, with all his aggression, had ever taken a life. How would his friends see him if he went through with this? They would hate him forever. 

“Who wants to go first, Quackity?” Schlatt questioned, picking up  an iron bat that had been leaning up against the wall. The bat was already stained with blood, Tubbo presumed that Schlatt was the reason it was there, glancing at the man’s knee. Perhaps Schlatt had planned to kill the man on his own before deciding that he wanted to share the hobby with his two closest staff. It made Tubbo feel queasy.

Quackity shook his head in response, taking a few steps back from the closet. Tubbo admired Quackity sometimes, the man was never too afraid of Schlatt to tell him no. But at this moment, he despised him, because without Quackity that would mean its--

“Tubbo’s turn, then,” Schlatt stated, pressing the bat into Tubbo’s hands. 

The bat felt cold and smooth in his clammy hands, which made gripping the bat troublesome as he fumbled around. 

Schlatt went behind the boy, placing his hands on his shoulder blades and pushing him closer to the tied up man in front of him. 

Still, Tubbo didn’t move.

Now annoyed, Schlatt reached around the boy and grabbed his hands from behind, acting as a guiding grip as he forced the boy to get a firmer grip on the bat’s handle. His head rested idly on Tubbo’s shoulder.

“Just imagine him as someone you hate. As everyone who had ever put you down and hurt you.” Schlatt had whispered in his ear, his breath tickling the outer-shell.

Tubbo tried, he really did. He tried every way he could think of to try and make this easier, to try and make the weight of the situation lighter, to--

Schlatt started raising his arms up and over his head, only stopping when Tubbo’s arms couldn’t bend back any further.

“I’ve helped start it, now you have to finish it.” Muttered Schlatt, removing his hands from Tubbo’s. His hot breath made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

This was to prove his loyalty to Schlatt, right? If his loyalty was proven, then Schlatt would trust him more. Giving Tubbo more information to bring back to Pogtopia.

‘For Tommy and Wilbur’ Tubbo thought to himself, blissfully ignoring how horrified the two would look if they could see him now. 

He brought the bat down on the man, hard. A sickening crunch rang out as the bat collided with his head. Blood began pouring out of the new young as the man screeched behind the gag. It did little to muffle the sound. 

Tubbo could practically feel Schlatt smiling behind him. 

“Again.” He commanded.

And so, Tubbo did it again. And again, and again, and again . There was a rush of pleasure for every swing.

Tubbo imagined a different person every time he brought down the bat. 

One swing and he was splitting open the skull of a childhood bully.

The second swing, he was fracturing the ribs of the teachers that had called him stupid all those years ago.

The third swing, he had shattered the right knee of the people who had looked down on him. 

The fourth swing, he was bashing Tommy’s teeth in. 

Wait, Tommy ?

Tubbo blinked furiously, willing the illusion away. With the haze gone, Tubbo could see exactly what kind of damage he had done. 

The man’s breathing was labored and ragged, each breath sounded wet and painful. His teeth were stained red, and Tubbo could hear him gurgling blood. There was a blundered hole on the side of his head where the bat struck. The bone there had been completely broken and laid in pieces on the floor. Brain fluid dripped from the wound. 

Oh, God, he had done that. 

The blood-soaked bat clattered to the floor as Tubbo dropped to his knees, hyperventilating. Crimson blood stained his hands and cuffs. 

Why did he do that? He was a monster.

“That’s my boy!” Schlatt laughed, coming closer to rub at Tubbo’s shoulders. He sounded so proud.

Tommy and Wilbur wouldn’t have wanted this. What would they do if they found out that Tubbo was a murderer?

Hot, heavy tears snaked down the boy’s cheeks, the mantra of ‘monster, monster, monster,’ played on repeat in his head.

After what felt like hours, Schlatt assisted Tubbo to his chambers. Allowing him to lean against his frame for support. 

Tubbo was acutely aware of the wide berth Quackity had given the two, as if Tubbo was a rabid dog that Schlatt could sic’ on him at any moment. 

And perhaps he was just that.

The next secret meeting Tubbo had with Wilbur and Tommy was rather uneventful. Schlatt hadn’t pulled any big stunts or told any juicy secrets, so Tubbo was left sitting silently as Tommy and Wilbur rambled on about their plans to recapture L’Manburg.  Though unlike last time, Techno was sitting in on the meeting with them. 

Even then, Techno added little to the conversation, aside from the occasional correction of Wilbur’s strategy. 

Tubbo had tuned everyone out after a while, letting their voices run together as white noise. 

“...Tubbo?” Tommy called, waving his hand in the others face. Tubbo perked up and looked at Tommy, who had a concerned expression on his features.

“Are you okay, man? You didn’t respond when I called your name the past five times.” 

Tubbo replied with a curt “I’m fine.” before going quiet again. 

In truth, Tubbo was tired, painfully so. He had not slept since the incident in Schlatt’s office, he couldn’t. 

He cried for hours after it happened, and Schlatt had stayed with him the entire time. Whispering sweet nothings about how proud he was of him, about how good he did, about--

“Are you sure?” Another voice asked, cutting off his thoughts. It was Wilbur.

Tubbo nodded quickly, even managing to flash a tiny smile at the two, but he could tell by their expressions that it didn’t convince them. Even Techno regarded him curiously. 

The meeting was eventually conjured, which Tubbo was thankful for. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could’ve kept up the act.

Part of him felt guilty about not telling them about the deed Schlatt had made him perform, but he mostly felt relief. They would hate him if they ever found out, perhaps more than they hate Eret.

He may have kept some things to himself, sure. But sometimes, the truth is better off not known.

Tubbo’s dread was palpable when Schlatt called him into his office once more. 

He considered not going, afraid of seeing another bound and gagged man, afraid of doing the deed all over again. 

He went anyway, of course. Schlatt would’ve hunted him down either way if he didn’t. 

You could say that Tubbo was pleasantly surprised when he entered the man’s office. The closet door was left open from last time, but there was no longer a man inside. It was completely empty, aside from the bodily fluids that had stained the polished wood. The grim reminder made Tubbo wince. 

He noted Quackity’s absence as he stepped into the room, something he was pleased about. Quackity had not-so-subtly begun avoiding Tubbo ever since the incident. He refused to even look at the younger in the brief instances where he couldn’t getaway. Tubbo wondered if Quackity ever told anybody what he did, he sure hoped not. 

Schlatt smiled when he saw Tubbo. It was different than the wry smiles he’d given him previously, this one was warm, affectionate even. Like Schlatt was seeing a long lost family member and not just his Secretary of State.

“It’s great to see you, Tubbo,” Schlatt said earnestly, resting his head on the back on his intertwined hands. “How are you?”

“'M fine, how are you?” Tubbo responded politely. Schlatt’s cheerful nature put him at ease. It was nothing like the way he was acting last time.

“Depends on how you react to what I say next,” Schlatt admitted. 

That made Tubbo tilt his head inquisitively. Schlatt never cared about people’s feelings, that just wasn’t in his nature. It’s what made him so despised and feared amongst L’Manburg’s people. The fact that he seemingly cared for what Tubbo had to say made him feel special, but he kept his guard up anyhow. You could never get too comfortable when dealing with a venomous snake. One wrong move and it's over.

“I have a proposition for you, Tubbo.” Schlatt started, eyeing Tubbo wearily to see his reaction. 

“And that is?”

“I want you to be my heir.” 

That statement nearly made Tubbo recoil in shock. He didn’t even know that Schlatt was ever interested in an heir. He certainly never showed it before. Most of the time, Tubbo was convinced that Schlatt never really cared for anybody. 

“Shocking, I know,” Schlatt said with bitter amusement in his voice. “My health fails me, Tubbo, and the citizens of this pathetic excuse for a nation would love nothing more than to see my head on a silver platter.”

Tubbo nodded slowly, carefully in agreement. It would be a lie if he assured the man otherwise. The people were very loud in their violent demands. 

“I need an heir, and I want that heir to be you, but there’s one problem,” Schlatt continued, his eyes boring in the boy mercilessly. “You’re weak.” He snarled out the last word like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Tubbo shrunk back at the words, the insult doing more damage to his pride than he dared to admit. He never considered himself weak. He had helped win L’Manburg’s independence and stood against Dream when no one else did. That wasn’t the characteristics of a weak individual, was it? Who knows, Schlatt seemed to know more than he did nowadays.

“Which is why I want you to eat this,” Schlatt told him, pulling an apple out of his suit pocket. 

It was no ordinary apple, Tubbo noticed. This one seemed to be made out of pure gold and it glimmered despite the dim lighting of Schlatt’s office. He could make out the red and purple enchantments that pulsed and glowed periodically along the apple’s surface. Tubbo could feel the apple’s power from where he stood, it’s power making the surrounding air around it vibrate subtly. It was truly a mesmerizing sight.

Schlatt presented the apple to Tubbo. He eyed it wearily but took it in his hands nevertheless. 

Wordlessly, he parted his lips and held the apple to his mouth, poised to take a bite before suddenly pulling back. 

“What’ll happen if I eat this?” Tubbo asked. Schlatt frowned at the question but quickly regained his composure. Displaying an air of neutrality once again. 

“You’ll become powerful enough to lead people. No one follows the nice guy, kid. Remember how quickly the people were to ditch Wilbur and Tommy?”

Tubbo nodded absent-mindedly, but the mention of his friends made his eyes widen. 

“What’ll happen to Wilbur and Tommy?” He questioned, rolling the apple in his hands. Schlatt looked at Tubbo in confusion and slight bewilderment, like it was the dumbest question he ever heard. 

“Does it matter? It’s not like they care about you, or they would’ve come by now.”

Tubbo let out an audible whimper at the words, but Schlatt wasn’t done. 

“You remind me so much of myself, kid. You just have yet to learn that friends always leave in the end.” Schlatt said bitterly. 

Tubbo disliked how Schlatt had compared the two. He never wanted to be Schlatt, not in a million years, but the world didn’t work like that, did it? Tubbo had done everything that Schlatt has done before. He’s lied, cheated, committed murder-- The list went on. 

As much as it tore him up to admit, Tubbo was a lot more like Schlatt than he ever wanted to be. Maybe he’s always been. 

Glancing at the apple in his hand, Tubbo pressed the apple to his lips and took a bite from its golden flesh. He savored the metallic tang that assaulted his tongue. Little sparks of what felt like electricity danced along with his taste buds. 

When he pulled away, Tubbo looked at Schlatt expectantly. He didn’t feel any different, and nothing was happening. Schlatt stared back, a wide, wide grin on his lips. Exposing far too many teeth to be normal. 

It was then that the pain started. 

It was a dull, throbbed ache centered in his head at first, but it swiftly turned into a series of agonizing pulses that made Tubbo clutch and pull at his hair desperately. Tears started to well up in his eyes and stream down his face in thin rivers. 

Oh, God, it hurt so much.

Schlatt took the hands that tugged at his scalp into his own, keeping them away from Tubbo’s head. 

“Pushing down only makes it hurt more.” He warned, brushing a thumb over his knuckles in a futile attempt at comfort.

The pain felt like it lasted forever before it suddenly stopped. 

Breathing hard, Tubbo freed one of his hands from Schlatt’s grip and tentatively went up to feel his head. He stumbled across two twin keratin horns, each twisting over his head and around his ears. 

He jumped as he felt fingers that weren’t his own ghosting along the length of his horns. Schlatt traced each horn from base to point, humming a pleasant tune all the while. They were small in comparison to Schlatt’s, but they’d get bigger as Tubbo got older. 

“Now you’re perfect .”

Chapter Text

Light peered through the slit in Tubbo’s curtains. The beams bounced off his face, making the boy groan and roll over onto his side. 

Correction, he attempted to roll onto his side. 

Tubbo hissed as a jolt of pain flared in his still-tender nerve endings, stemming from the bases of his horns outward. Rolling back onto his back, Tubbo rubbed a hand along the base of the horns gently, where skin met keratin. It did little to soothe the ache. 

Schlatt had warned the boy that he wouldn’t be able to sleep on his side anymore, but Tubbo couldn’t help it. Old habits die hard, isn’t that what they say?

Sighing, Tubbo began making his way out of bed. He doubted the throbbing in his head would go away quickly anyway, it never did before. The bones in his back and shoulders crackled in protest when Tubbo stood up, making him wince. 

Schlatt said that the horns would take some adjusting to, but he didn’t think it would be this hard. 

The twin spikes that rested atop Tubbo’s head were heavy and uncomfortable, making him wonder just how Schlatt even managed to hold his own head up.

The weight of the horns made Tubbo stumble as he stood. Their presence had greatly shifted Tubbo’s center of gravity, he couldn’t risk leaning too far forward or too far back without falling over.  

Once Tubbo regained some semblance of balance, he made his way to the closet to pull out his suit.

Another thing Schlatt didn’t tell Tubbo was how difficult it would be to put on and take off clothing. The boy couldn’t wear anything that needed to go over his head, and he was met with the same results each time he tried. Those results consisting of his horns punching small holes into all of his t-shirts. It gave Tubbo some insight as to why Schlatt wore suits and button-ups all the time; the man couldn’t wear anything else. 

Once dressed, Tubbo tip-toed to his chamber door, pressing an ear against the wood. Carefully listening for signs of anybody that may have been outside. 

Despite Tubbo having the horns for a few days now, he still received stares wherever he went. 

Tubbo hated the stares. The eyes followed him everywhere he went, silent and judging. 

He could still recall the first time his fellow administrators saw the horns. Quackity’s face had paled at the sight, eyes widening in horror and fear. The man had taken extra care since then to avoid Tubbo, as if the horns were some transmittable disease that he was afraid of catching. Sometimes, Tubbo would catch him touching his head before letting out a breath, presumably glad to have found nothing of his own growing there.

George’s reaction had been subtle, but there nonetheless. The Brit had bristled at the sight, reaching a hand out towards the horns as if making sure that they were real. Schlatt had smacked the man’s hand away, however.

“No touching, they’re still tender, y’ know.”

George had promptly recoiled, then. Proceeding to flee the scene not too long after. 

Tubbo hadn’t seen the other since. 

From then on, Tubbo had taken special measures to conceal himself from the public, afraid of what the people would think of him if they saw. What Niki and Eret would think, what his friends would think! It’s something that Schlatt had frowned heavily against. The man seemed to derive pleasure from parading Tubbo around like some prized pooch and would take the boy with him wherever he went. 

Minutes passed and Tubbo didn’t hear anything from beyond the door. So, Tubbo slipped out the door. The boy stuck close to the walls, constantly remaining on the lookout for people as he started his chores for the day. 

Self-conscious or not, Tubbo still had a job to do.

He willfully ignored the feeling of invisible eyes watching him.

The night-time air was crisp and cool against Tubbo’s feverish flesh. The boy sat in the White House’s garden, his hands shaking. He was hyperventilating and felt as if he would pass out at any moment. 

The eyes, they followed him everywhere relentlessly, never ceasing their constant presence. Even now, as he sat alone atop one of the old rotting bunches that were scattered around the garden he couldn’t escape the eyes. They always lingered near him, ever since Tubbo had gotten these god-forsaken horns. 

Yet, the presence of the eyes hadn’t tainted the garden, and so it became Tubbo’s only source of solace. 

The garden wasn’t open to the public, and it allowed him to avoid the stares of Manburg’s populace for the time being. Until tomorrow came, that is, and Schlatt dragged him out of bed and out into the world once more, chiding him for the hundredth time about his recluse nature. It made Tubbo wonder why Schlatt chose him as heir, he was no good to anyone-

Snap.

The sound of a breaking twig broke Tubbo’s train of thought, making his shoulders tense and body stiffen. 

He didn’t know who could possibly be in the garden so late at night and frankly, he didn’t want to know. All he wanted was to not be seen; why was that so hard?

Tubbo contemplated making a run for it. The White House was only a short sprint away, he most certainly could make it inside before the intruder saw him. But the noise had sounded so close, and he wasn’t sure if he could hole up in his bedroom in time before he was spotted. Instead, Tubbo decided to keep his mouth shut, letting his breath come to a halt. He prayed that if he remained silent, the person (person? Was it even a person?) would leave.

The rustling of nearby woodland underbrush only made him panic more. 

Of course, they wouldn’t go away, Tubbo was never that lucky. 

A tall figure stepped out from the foliage, lightly kicking off any leaves that stuck to their foot. They approached Tubbo cautiously as if they haven’t already been caught, walking out into the moonlit night and--

The pale, white light of the moon revealed no other than a blonde-haired boy with bright, fiery blue eyes, an old bandage stuck onto the bridge of his nose. 

Tommy Innit. 

The realization made Tubbo’s breath hitch. The last person he wanted to see him like this was his best friend, his brother, of all people.

“Tubbo,” The other starts as he gets closer to Tubbo, causing him to shuffle at his spot on the bench. Tommy sounded breathless like he ran to Manburg instead of taking the tunnels. “Where have you been? You’ve missed the past few meetings and I was afraid something bad had happened to you--” 

Tommy cut himself off as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Tubbo didn’t have to think hard to know what Tommy was looking at, it was what everyone seemed to be staring at these days. 

“Tubbo, what are those?” Tommy hissed, his voice had a deadly edge to it as he gestured to the horns adorning Tubbo’s head, permanent reminders of his sin.

“Tommy, please don’t look.” Tubbo faltered, not knowing what else to say. It was obvious what was on his head, clear-as-day.

From the corners of his vision, Tubbo could make out the eyes, the ones that haunted him daily, slowly creeping into the area. Not even the garden was safe anymore. 

“Who did this, Tubbo?” Tommy continued. His tone was controlled, steady, and so unlike Tommy’s usually loud demeanor that Tubbo couldn’t help but do a double-take. Seems that he wasn’t the only one who changed. 

“Schlatt…” Tubbo whispered, eyes focusing on anything but Tommy. He really wished the other would stop staring at him.

Tommy growled, “I’m gonna fucking kill em’.” 

“Please stop looking .” Pleaded Tubbo once more, his face furling into a wince. He came to the garden to avoid stares, but here Tommy was, staring like everybody else. The incorporeal eyes did nothing to ease his mind and he became more agitated by the second. 

“Stop looking? At what, the horns on your head?!” Tommy yelled, his composure dropping instantaneously. He raised a hand to Tubbo’s head, wrapping his figures around the keratin tightly. 

“You have fucking horns, Tubbo! Do you realize how bad that is?” Tommy continued, roughly tugging on one of the horns, yanking Tubbo’s head upwards. “Wilbur’s already paranoid enough! How will you explain this?” 

“Stop it!” Tubbo screamed, “Stop looking!” 

Tubbo, fueled with a malicious concoction of anger, fear, and sadness, placed both hands against Tommy’s chest and shoved.

It wasn’t a strong push, not by any means. It didn’t even topple Tommy over, instead, the blonde went reeling backward. His grip on Tubbo’s still sensitive horns, however, didn’t falter, and he ended up dragging Tubbo painfully along with him.

Tubbo shrieked as he was dragged, his hands finding their way to rest on Tommy’s wrist. He was too preoccupied with the sudden flare of pain that he didn’t even register just how inhuman his scream had sounded. It sounded more like a lamb’s cry than a human’s.

Tommy, on the other hand, heard it; he heard it loud and clear. 

The sound made Tommy abruptly release Tubbo’s horn, watching as the boy stumbled back, cradling the throbbing horn gently by the base. 

“Tubbo, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to--”

Tommy was cut off by Tubbo’s ear-piercing scream. It wasn’t one of pain, but instead a howl of fury, one that was laced with anguish and hurt. 

Tubbo lowered his head, his horns facing Tommy, and charged. 

Tommy had little time to react before he felt the bluntness of ram’s horns slamming into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and pushing him to the ground. Dust flew up into a spiraling cloud as Tommy landed rump-first into the dirt. 

Tubbo ignored the pulse of pain that shot down his horns from the impact. Instead, he took the time to climb on top of Tommy, straddling him by the waist and holding him in place. 

Once Tommy caught his breath, his blue eyes shot open to stare at Tubbo, gazing at him with nothing short of weariness.

“Now, now, Tubbo. Let’s calm down, we can still talk this out.” Tommy said, caution in his tone. 

Tubbo, however, paid the other no heed. All he could focus on was Tommy’s eyes.

His eyes reminded Tubbo so much of the eyes that constantly watched him; constantly judged him. The eyes that still lingered in Tubbo’s peripheral grew stronger and more numerous than before, swarming his vision. 

He wanted them to go away. He already received enough looks from the people of Manburg, he didn’t want to see anymore.

He just wanted them to stop. 

Tubbo’s eyes slowly trailed down to Tommy, or where Tommy should be, at least. The boy in question, however, was gone. He had vanished into thin air, and in his place stood a large, blue eye. It stared at Tubbo with swiftly contracting pupils that grew and shrunk in a matter of seconds. Its sclera was rimmed red and had deep, purple veins throbbing outwards. 

Tubbo snarled, a noise that could barely be considered human erupted from his maw. He raised an arm and reared his fist back. If the eyes wouldn’t stop, then he’d make them stop.

He brought his fist down once. Then he brought down a second, and a third, and a fourth, and after a while, he started losing count. 

He only stopped once the formerly pristine eye had been turned into bloody spam. The blood vessels that lined the eye had popped, turning the white into a murky dark crimson. It almost looked ruby in the moonlight.

The eye let out a loud gurgling noise, and it was only then that the illusion faded away. Revealing a broken and beaten Tommy in its place.

His face was nearly unrecognizable and pulp-like. His nose was twisted and cracked, it had most certainly shattered under Tubbo’s punches. Blonde hair was matted to Tommy’s forehead and caked with steadily drying blood that rolled down from his head to his brow. Tommy’s cheeks were a ruddy pink along with his nose, making it look as if he had been crying. Maybe he had, Tubbo hadn’t been paying much attention. 

But worst of all was Tommy’s eyes. Where his eyes should’ve been instead rested two gaping, bloody holes that encompassed half of Tommy’s face. If Tubbo looked past all the blood, he could vaguely make out a white-ish fluid sloshing around in the eye-holes like vile soup, it was all that was left of Tommy’s once magnificent blue eyes. 

Miraculously enough, Tommy was still breathing, if just barely. His chest heaved painfully and his breath came out labored and unsteady, but he was breathing nonetheless. 

The eyes that had surrounded Tubbo began slipping away into nothingness, taking Tubbo’s blind anger with them and leaving behind a slowly mounting realization. One that made Tubbo’s heart clench agonizingly in his chest. 

Oh, God, what had he done? Tommy was dying and it was all his fault.

He didn’t mean to hurt Tommy, he had just wanted him to stop staring, to make the eyes stop, and now Tommy laid half-dead in front of him. For what, merely being a concerned friend? 

Tubbo, in a blind panic, covered a hand over Tommy’s large wounds, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

His attempts were fruitless, and eventually, all Tubbo was left with was a dead corpse. 

TommyInnit was slain by Tubbo.

He felt like he was about to die then and there as the message popped up over his communicator. He certainly deserved no less for what he did.

Briefly, he wondered how Wilbur would react. The world knew well that Tommy was practically a sibling to Wilbur, and if he ever found out that Tommy was dead, and by Tubbo’s hands no less? 

Well, Tubbo didn’t want to dwell on such thoughts much longer. 

It had been what could’ve only been hours when Tubbo felt a cold hand on his shoulder, breaking him out of his stupor.

He whirled around, fear clutching his entire being like a vice. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this; sitting atop his brother’s waist, covered in his blood--

But instead of being met with a horrified citizen, or even worse, a friend, he was met by the face of Schlatt, who smiled down at Tubbo softly. 

He had the same expression he wore that day, one of the utmost pride and joy. He couldn’t recall the man ever looking prouder at that moment, it made Tubbo want to vomit and cry all the same. 

Noting the boy’s expression, Schlatt pulled him into a hug, uncaring about the blood that stained his suit. 

“I’m so proud of you, son.” Schlatt cooed, running a clawed hand through Tubbo’s hair, minding his horns.

Tubbo let out a choked, wet sob. Globulous tears ran down his face and stained his cheeks with dark streaks. He had never wanted to curl up and die more. He wanted to tear out his own eyes, pummel his own face, wanted to feel what Tommy must’ve felt as Tubbo beat him to death. 

He did none of those things, however. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Schlatt’s midsection, returning the hug with vigor. It was all he could do anyway. 

He felt Schlatt smile against his ear.

Tubbo finally realized why Schlatt chose him as heir; the two were practically identical.

Chapter Text

Tubbo didn’t leave his room for days after it happened. 

All he could see was Tommy’s desecrated corpse lying mangled in front of him. The image haunted him day and night.

He couldn’t sleep anymore. His dreams were restless and nightmares brutal. His mind was always spinning in circles, always going back to that event and everything that led up to it. 

And Schlatt--

Schlatt had stayed with him the entire time, much to his chagrin. He constantly whispered sweet nothings in Tubbo’s ears, like a devil tempting an innocent lamb. Though, Tubbo supposed that he wasn’t so innocent anymore, was he? Holy figures aren’t tainted by the grueling nature of bloodshed and violence, so unlike Tubbo. 

Sometimes in his waking hours, Tubbo would daydream. Thinking about where he’d be had he not given in and let the wolf feed upon his fleece. He wondered if Tommy would still be alive and if they would’ve been happy together. 

It didn’t matter anymore, he supposed. His horns testified to that. He made his choice long ago and now he’d have to live with it. 

That didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Tubbo was fiddling with his tie (it was red, at Schlatt’s insistence) idly as he stood at Manburg’s borders. 

If he had it his way, he would’ve never left his room, but Schlatt insisted on him being there. He was an heir now, and it was important for him to know the inner workings of politics, as boring as it was.

There were eyes just outside of his vision, staring at him intensely. They were always there these days, never stopping, never ceasing. They disappeared momentarily once when Tommy died, but they’ve come back with a vengeance ever since. Now, no place was safe from their gaze. 

Sadly enough, Tubbo had grown accustomed to their looks. They still filled him with a sense of paranoia and dread, but not as bad as they have before. 

Quackity and Schlatt were also standing absentmindedly to his right. Quackity was humming a tune, some shanty no doubt, while Schlatt tapped his dress shoes impatiently, occasionally looking at his glimmering watch.

There was a reason for Schlatt’s impatience, that reason being that they were supposed to be meeting with Dream today. The ‘Head Honcho’, as Schlatt called him.

They were meeting to discuss land disputes. Schlatt wanted to expand into the Dream SMP’s lands, and Dream was coming to either allow or deny Schlatt from doing so. Tubbo already knew that Schlatt would start the expansion projects whether Dream allowed him or not, he had no fear of the masked man, but it would be more beneficial to talk than to start an unnecessary war. Schlatt may have not feared Dream, but he was still a very powerful man; one that was best not trifled with. 

Tubbo heard Schlatt growl off to his side, “Where is that insufferable man! He’s almost thirty minutes late now!--”

“Right here, Schlatt.” A voice rang out from behind the trio. Turning around, they were met with the masked face of Dream. Alongside Dream were SapNap and George. Tubbo wouldn’t say he was surprised to see SapNap, the man was essentially Dream’s bodyguard and favorite pyromaniac. No, what surprised Tubbo was seeing George accompanying them. The Brit had long since vanished from Manburg ever since Tubbo had gotten his horns. 

“Ah!” Schlatt started, smiling widely. “How nice it is for the ever-so-mighty Dream to finally join us today!” 

Schlatt’s head quirked to the side when he spotted George. “I was wondering where my cabinet member ran off too…” Schlatt said to no one in particular, the smile never leaving his face. George shrunk behind Dream at the statement. It was hard to see his expression through his goggles, but Tubbo could tell just how badly the man wished he could disappear. 

From his peripheral, Tubbo could just barely make out Quackity’s sympathetic glance. 

Dream’s head lowered a tad, shadows falling across his mask. Tubbo could practically feel the other man glowering as he turned towards Schlatt. 

“Indeed.” Dream stated simply, danger edging into his tone. It was a thinly veiled threat, Tubbo recognized. 

“You wanted to talk about affairs, what is it?” SapNap asked, his tone was biting as he scooted closer to George, a weak attempt at comfort. 

Schlatt waved SapNap off, not even bothering to look at him as he took a step closer to Dream. “ Shh, the adults are talking.” 

SapNap snarled and made a move to grab the sword holstered to his belt when Dream held a hand up, signaling the other to stop. SapNap came to an abrupt halt, his hand resting on the sword’s hilt. He didn’t pull it out, but he didn’t pull away his hand either. 

“What do you want, Schlatt?” Dream inquired, his voice even and blank. The sheer emptiness of it made Tubbo uneasy, gulping down a lump of air nervously. It had always been difficult to tell what Dream was feeling, especially with his mask, but it became even harder when there was no tone to convey it. 

Schlatt’s smile was sweet as honey as he spoke. “Manburg is expanding, Dream, and we wondering if--”

“No.” Dream replied coldly, cutting off the horned man before he could even get the offer out. 

Schlatt blinked, his smile faltering for a few seconds. “What?” Schlatt questioned, an unknown inflection in his voice. Nobody got away with interrupting Schlatt, not anymore. 

“I said ‘No’. L’Manburg had--”

“ Manburg.” Schlatt hissed, glaring at the other man. 

“Manburg,” Dream repeated, meeting Schlatt with a glare of his own through the mask. “Had promised to stay within their borders. Why would we let you expand now?”

“Oh, you little--” Schlatt began, fury slithering across his features like a snake. He raised a hand, almost looking as if he’d strike Dream before settling down with an exasperated sigh. “What might I do for you to change your mind?” Schlatt smiled tightly. The man had never liked sucking up to anybody. 

Dream tilted his head curiously, thinking for a moment. Suddenly, he turned to face Tubbo, much to the other’s mounting displeasure. He had been hoping to remain unnoticed throughout the entire dispute, but it seemed that Lady Luck just wasn’t on his side. It never was these days. 

“I’d like to speak to Tubbo. I may consider your offer then.” Dream requested. 

Schlatt looked annoyed at the proposal but nonetheless obliged with a slight wave of his hand. “Fine, but you have five minutes.” 

With that Schlatt walked off, Quackity hot on his heels. George and SapNap followed behind them, keeping close eyes on the pair. Most likely planning to keep the pair out of trouble.

In only a minute, Dream and Tubbo were left alone. 

For a while, Dream was completely silent, simply staring at Tubbo. His expression was unreadable through the ceramic mask.

Somehow, this felt worse than the looks he received from the citizens of Manburg. Worse than the eyes that trailed him constantly and continued to do so now. Worse than the look he had gotten from Tommy less than a week ago-- 

He could feel Dream’s judgment radiating through the mask. It felt like he was under the ever-watchful gaze of God, one that sat judging him for his sins, searching for the perfect punishment. The impassiveness of the mask only made the feeling stronger. 

The illusionary eyes that surrounded Tubbo only intensified in his presence. 

Dream was well known to be a powerful man, so much so that many didn’t even consider him human. Some may even say that he’s God themself. Who's to say that he can’t banish Tubbo to Hell for his crimes; sentence him to where the Piglins roamed and the Blaze’s slept?

“Tubbo,” Dream began, Tubbo hated how pitying he sounded. He wasn’t a child anymore, he hasn’t been since he took a bite out of that apple. “What happened to you?” 

It was a broad question, really. One that Tubbo wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer because honestly, what didn’t happen? 

Tubbo just laughed, it was a bitter sound, laced with melancholy and untold secrets. Dream didn’t need to know what Schlatt had made him do, and he didn’t need to know what happened to Tommy either. 

If he didn’t already know, that is. 

“Schlatt happened,” Tubbo replied as his laughter ended.

Dream was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “You could leave. The Dream SMP will always accept you; horns and all.” He spoke. 

The statement was so funny, that Tubbo couldn’t help but let out a hum of amusement. He didn’t need sympathy, didn’t want it, in fact. He had damned himself to Hell a long time ago, but Tubbo, at the very least, planned on dragging Schlatt down with him. May they burn together. 

“No you wouldn’t, not if you knew.” 

Dream’s shoulders bounced and his head cocked, a chill grew in the air. “Knew what, Tubbo--?” 

“Time’s up, fellas!” Tubbo heard Schlatt yell from afar. Whipping around, he spotted Schlatt walking briskly towards them, with George, SapNap, and Quackity following close behind.  

“How did it go, Tubbs? Did you score us some land?” Schlatt asked, placing a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder once he was in range.

Tubbo opened his mouth, poised to answer when Dream butted in. 

“Our discussion was none of your concern.” He said cooly, calculatingly. 

“Well of course it is! Tubbo is my right-hand man, my heir, I deserve to know.” Schlatt snapped back in the same chilly tone, his grip on Tubbo’s shoulder tightened and made the boy wince. 

The entire group seemed to freeze at Schlatt’s sentence. Dream, in particular, seemed especially shocked, even through the mask. 

The response made Schlatt grin smugly, all teeth and no warmth. “Oh, you didn’t know? Tubbo is inheriting Manburg. Don’t I deserve to know what you and my son discussed?”

Tubbo didn’t know when Schlatt started referring to him as his kin, considering the feelings weren’t exactly mutual. It was a power play, no doubt. Something meant to get a rise out of Dream, to break his apathetic facade. 

Dream emitted a muffled scoff from behind his mask. “You’ve never liked children, Schlatt, so why now, why Tubbo?”

Schlatt smiled wider, so wide that he looked deranged, inhuman even. “Why, ever since he murdered Tommy, of course.”

Dream went stock still at the statement, merely staring at Tubbo with barely contained shock. SapNap and George bore similar expressions, looking shaken at the bold claim. The surrounding air was stale with tension so thick it could cut through a diamond. They couldn't believe that Tubbo, sweet innocent Tubbo, could ever do such a thing.

Quackity, on the contrary, barely had any reaction at all. He already knew that Tubbo was capable of and he was hardly surprised, God thought Satan beautiful Heaven, after all. Who would've suspected that an angel could fall so hard?

It was SapNap who eventually broke the silence. 

“Is that true, Tubbo?” He questioned, an uncharacteristic coldness evident in his voice. 

Tubbo swallowed thickly, shuffling back on and forth on his feet. The eyes surrounding him crinkled in excitement, practically mocking Tubbo for the situation he had gotten himself in. 

This was it. Soon, the entire world would know that Tubbo was a monster. It was only a matter of time before Wilbur came for his head soon. 

“Yes.” Tubbo murmured. It had been nearly inaudible, but admission was all Schlatt needed to hear.

“Ha, told you!” Schlatt laughed, moving his hand to roughly pat Tubbo’s back. Then, he turned to Dream. “So, might I know what you talked about?” 

Dream’s head lowered. “All you need to know is that the land is yours.” Dream paused briefly, looking Tubbo dead in the eyes. “I don’t want it anymore.” Said with an unfathomable emptiness. 

With that, Dream turned around and started back for his own land, George and SapNap followed behind him, not even sparing Tubbo a glance as they left. 

The rest of the day went by in a blur. 

Schlatt had celebrated their recent land acquisition and ushered Quackity to start expanding Manburg as soon as possible. 

Schlatt even went out of his way to throw a huge party, one where everyone in Manburg was invited. Tubbo didn’t stay long, the sheer number of people made him nervous. He didn’t know if word got out about Tommy yet and frankly, he didn’t want to be around when it did. 

Tubbo had told Schlatt that he felt sick that night, and the man wished him well (My future heir can’t die early on me’ He said ) and patted him on the head, minding the horns and the newfound, cream-colored peach fuzz that dotted his ears. 

Chapter Text

Tubbo was making his way to his bedroom, his shoes clicking lightly against the polished granite floors. 

In the distance, he could still hear the sounds of a party raging from the dining hall of the White House and, if he strained his ears, he could even make out muffled, intoxicated voices cheering about their self-imposed victory over Dream earlier that day. Tubbo could feel his ears twitch in irritation, wishing they would quiet down for just a moment (Part of him knew that he shouldn’t be able to hear everything so vividly from that far away, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter anyway ).

Tubbo breathed out a sigh of relief once he made it to his bedroom, shutting the heavy door behind him with some struggle. The voices were, thankfully enough, not loud enough to penetrate through the oak of the door and eventually faded into nothing. 

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about the eyes, though their presence wasn’t nearly as vibrant as before. In fact, they seemed to dim whenever Tubbo entered his bedroom, as if they couldn’t quite reach him there. It was something that Tubbo was grateful for, really. 

He padded over to one of the long, ornate, mahogany dressers that sat against one of the room’s walls. Tubbo blissfully ignored the vanity mirror that sat atop the dresser and blissfully ignored the creature that sat staring back at him, paying no heed to the pointed ears or the inhuman, box-shaped pupils. 

Sliding open one of the dresser’s top drawers, Tubbo scanned through its contents, looking for his sleepwear. 

After pawing through the pile of clothes, Tubbo eventually emerged victoriously. In his hands, he held a small, comfortable button-up with a matching set of pants. The pajamas were a light yellow with thin black stripes running up and down the arms and legs of the outfit. It was Tubbo’s favorite set of pajamas, it reminded him of the bumblebees he used to take care of so long ago. 

Tubbo smiled fondly at the memory and sat the clothes on the bed. It was time for him to get out of the suit and tie he had been sporting all day.

He raised fingers to his suit jacket, struggling to undo the buttons that kept it closed. It was difficult to get his fingers around the buttons due to his nails constantly getting in the way. They’ve grown out a lot since he bit the apple and despite cutting them often, they grew back in only a matter of hours. They resembled Schlatt’s claws nowadays.

With a bit of effort, the buttons came loose, and Tubbo threw off the suit jacket, letting it land onto the floor carelessly. 

He then moved on to his dress pants, attempting to shuffle out of them when he felt the hem snag on something from the rear. He strained his neck to look behind him and saw a bundle of pale fur. After a minute of careful maneuvering, Tubbo managed to slide off the pants, tossing them along with the shirt, and there it was—  

Sitting at the base of his spine was a short, cream-colored tail. It was small enough to be hidden by pants, something that Tubbo will forever appreciate. He got enough stares as it was, he certainly didn’t want to add to it by having a tail swishing about. 

Tubbo let out a tired, aspirated noise. He shouldn’t have been surprised about the changes, but he wished that Schlatt would’ve told him beforehand. Though, you shouldn’t expect a fair shake when you make a deal with the devil.

He left his discarded formal wear on the floor and started putting on his pajamas. He didn’t have the energy to worry about the changes now, and would much rather sleep. The day has left him exhausted.

Once he slipped on his pajamas, he trotted over to the bed and climbed underneath the plush duvet, practically purring as his muscles relaxed into the comforter and the pleasant warmth enveloped him. It only took a moment of laying there for his eyelids to grow heavy and for darkness to steadily swarm his vision. Even the vigilant eyes that tailed him seemed to drift off into slumber.

Tap. 

The sudden noise made Tubbo’s ears fidget. His oddly shaped ears only amplified the sound. Still, Tubbo made no move to get out of bed. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for Schlatt to send somebody in to check on him during the night, after all. 

Tap.

Though, there was something Tubbo found rather odd…

Tap.

He didn’t hear the door open. 

With a slight, quiet groan of annoyance, Tubbo blearily cracked open an eye. He scanned the dark room, but he saw nothing aside from the shadows that danced and flickered along the walls. 

Tap.

Now thoroughly annoyed, Tubbo sat up in his bed and threw his legs over the side, shivering as his bare feet hit the cold floor. He fully intended on figuring out the cause of the noise once and for all and— 

Tubbo suddenly felt the tip of an axe’s blade against the back of his neck, making the hairs at his nape stand on end. 

“A birdie told me that you murdered Tommy.” A familiar voice said, coming from behind Tubbo. Now, to the untrained ear, the voice might’ve sounded monotonous and apathetic, but Tubbo has been around long enough to catch the fury behind the words. 

“Technoblade.” Tubbo acknowledged. He figured that either he or Wilbur would be coming for his head once word got out, but he didn’t expect it to be so soon. 

“How did you get in here?” Tubbo asked, turning his head to look at Technoblade. It was a miracle that he managed to keep his voice steady. 

The Piglin rogue was donned in his usual attire. The red of his cape nearly looked ruby in the dim light, and the gold of his crown glinted in whatever moonlight seeped in through Tubbo’s curtains. He even had on his gold rings, the ones he’d wear when claiming a gorey ‘trophy’.

Tubbo had always thought Techno looked something like a hell beast, especially when fighting in the arena, but now? In the soft moonlight, he almost looked holy. An angel sent to purify Tubbo’s sin through blood.

“I was invited to the party, and I just snuck into your room from there,” Techno replied plainly. 

Tubbo let out a curt ‘Ah’ in response. He should’ve figured that Techno was invited, it’s not like he ever told Schlatt that the rogue was working for Wilbur, after all. 

“What are you here for?” Tubbo questioned. In reality, he already knew good and well what Techno was here for, but he at least wanted to hear it from the other’s lips. 

Techno’s head dipped knowingly, “You already know why.” He chuckled bitterly, pressing his axe harder against Tubbo’s neck, making the younger hiss. 

The statement confirmed what Tubbo already knew; Techno had come to kill him, maybe even bring his horn-studded head to Wilbur on a silver platter and— if Tubbo were being honest, he’d let him. A part of his soul had died with Tommy, and if it took him death to retrieve it, then he’d gladly accept it with open arms. 

But the sad part is was that it was a lie. He couldn’t let himself die because, deep down, there was a part of him (The silly, childish part that was supposed to have died years ago) that wanted to live, wanted to survive, wanted to damn the angel Heaven had sent down to end him and everything he ever was. 

There was, of course, nothing he could do to fight off Techno. Tubbo was in nothing but his pajamas while Techno was armed to the teeth. 

All Tubbo feasibly do in this situation was scream, and scream he did. The piercing, animalistic howl tore its way from his throat before he could stop it, making Techno hurriedly turn the boy around, throwing him off his bed and onto the floor in front of him. 

The Piglin snarled at Tubbo’s form, his snout peeling back to reveal two sharp, silver-lined tusks. His eyes blazed as he raised his axe, planning to bring it down on Tubbo’s neck before help arrived. A clean swipe would be all it took. One swipe and Tommy would rest peacefully, his death finally avenged. 

The attempt was fruitless, however, as Schlatt and his posse busted down the door right as Techno began rearing his axe. 

Schlatt, though tipsy from the party, lowered his head, facing the brunt of his horns towards Techno, and charged, hitting the Piglin square in the chest as he brought down the axe’s blade. 

Techno started back from the impact, breathing hard as he glanced between Tubbo and Schlatt. 

“Guess I’ll be taking home two trophies tonight.” Techno began, flashing his tusks at Schlatt as he adjusted his grip on the axe’s handle. 

“Shame that won't be happening.” Schlatt scoffed, eyeing Techno warily as he extended an arm to Tubbo, who took it wordlessly. 

“Guards!” Schlatt yelled, picking Tubbo up from the ground as he did so. “Arrest this man at once!” 

Techno laughed faintly as Schlatt’s men surrounded him, readying his axe. "Bring it on."

Tubbo isn’t sure what happened next. All he remembered was hearing screaming as Schlatt awkwardly tucked Tubbo’s head into his chest, being careful of the horns, and ushered them both out of the room. 

“First assassination attempt, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to those soon.” Schlatt joked, though Tubbo couldn’t help but hear the truth in his voice. No wonder why Schlatt always walked with at least one or two people at his side, it must’ve been a common occurrence ever since he was elected. That fact alone was nearly enough to inspire pity in Tubbo.

The rest of the night passed by in a flash, eventually giving way to daybreak. 

Tubbo was called to the courthouse that very morning.

When he arrived at the courtroom, the first thing he noticed was Techno. The other had been bound and chained like an animal, even having a glimmering muzzle to go along with it. His hands had been bound behind him using silver, and he had a matching collar around his neck to compliment it. 

In most cases, Tubbo would’ve felt sorry for him, but the longer he looked, the more he couldn’t help but feel a disturbing sense of pride. The chains were befitting of someone as savage and brutal as Techno. If he wanted to act like a creature from Hell, an animal meant for the slaughterhouse, then he’d be treated like one. It’s what he deserved, after all, for daring to lay hands upon Schlatt’s protégée. 

He promptly ignored the way part of his brain cried out for the other, saying how none of this would be happening if he never killed Tommy, never eaten that apple—  

Instead, he focused his gaze on the second man in the room. Schlatt was up in one of the tall chairs, where a judge would normally sit, smiling widely with conviction. 

The only people there, aside from Techno and Schlatt, were a few guards that stood by, waiting to either receive an order or restrain Techno if need be. 

The trial, if you could even call it that, was short and sweet. In reality, it wasn’t much of a trial at all, but simply a one-sided witch-hunt, one that Techno would never win. 

Schlatt acted as judge, jury, and executioner, sentencing Techno to death with no room for rebuttal. Not like there was anything that could’ve saved him anyway. 

Tubbo could still recall Techno’s hanging corpse with grotesque fascination; He had been strung up in Manburg’s center, a gentle breeze swaying his permanently unmoving form. Oh, how it had been a sight for sore eyes! 

Briefly, Tubbo wondered if Tommy could see him now. The blonde was probably up in Heaven somewhere, gazing at Tubbo with nothing short of unadulterated loathing. Forever unable to reach Tubbo, even in death. It’s not like Tubbo was reaching Heaven anyway. 

The thought made him smile. Good, he deserved nothing less. 

Chapter Text

Tubbo was sitting on the bed in his room, drumming his fingers idly against his legs. Occasionally, he’d turn to look at the stippled ceiling, tracing over patterns with his eyes as if they were constellations. Sometimes he’d even gaze at the pale walls of his room, just to distract from the sheer monotony of it all. Even the unseeing eyes that followed him looked bored, their swiftly contracting pupils weren’t bothering to look at Tubbo anymore. 

After Techno’s failed assassination attempt, Tubbo wasn’t allowed to do anything outside the White House without supervision, and Schlatt didn’t entrust anyone except himself to escort him, much to the other's displeasure. 

Knock .

A sound broke Tubbo’s mind-numbing stupor, stemming from his door. He felt his ears twitch toward in barely concealed excitement. It would be nice to get out of this stuffy room of his. 

“It’s open,” Tubbo said curtly, standing up from his bed and padding towards the door. 

The door was pushed open, revealing none other than Quackity standing outside it, much to Tubbo’s initial surprise. He and Quackity weren’t exactly on good terms, not since that day. Though Quackity had notably calmed down, the other still looked nervous around Tubbo, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

“Schlatt needs you,” Quackity swallowed, not meeting Tubbo’s eyes. “Wants you to come to his office, says he’s got a gift for you.” 

The statement made Tubbo tilt his head, dread building uncomfortably in his stomach. Schlatt had only invited Tubbo into his office twice throughout his presidency, presenting Tubbo with a fresh Hell both times he’s entered. He could only imagine what foul gift Schlatt would give him now.

Tubbo didn’t let his unease show, instead dismissing Quackity with a quick “Thank you”. Quackity just nodded his head before scampering off, presumably glad to get away from Tubbo as soon as possible.

It was only when Quackity was out of sight did he begin making his way to Schlatt’s office. His pace was slow as he walked, frequently stopping to peer at an interesting painting or sculpture that was spread around the White House. Was he stalling? Perhaps, but Tubbo has learned to fear Schlatt’s ‘presents’, as he called them. The gifts have done nothing but send him down on a spiral he could never come back from, why would now be any different? 

He knew, however, that he couldn’t keep Schlatt waiting for too long, lest he wanted to lose his head, and sped up his pace towards the office.

In only a few minutes, Tubbo stood outside the office door, Schlatt’s initials carved into the dark oak wood. 

The dread gnawing at his core only grew stronger, bigger even, spreading from his stomach up to his chest. It made his arms and legs feel heavier like cinder blocks had been tied to his ankles and wrist. 

With a quiet sigh, Tubbo twisted the doorknob, pushing open the door slowly. 

Schlatt was sitting at his desk, mindlessly cleaning off the polished wood with a damp rag, humming a tune that Tubbo would’ve considered pleasant under normal circumstances. The man smiled at the sight of Tubbo, his lips stretching wider as he spotted Tubbo’s eyes and ears.

“They grew in nicely, didn’t they?” Schlatt remarked, getting up from his desk and rolling his shoulders. 

Tubbo didn’t bother to reply, he knew Schlatt wasn’t looking for one. Wordlessly, Tubbo entered the office, shutting the door with a quiet ‘click’ behind him.

“Now, I’m sure you’d like to know why I’ve called you, yes?” Schlatt questioned, quirking a brow at Tubbo and clasping his hands together. He moved closer to Tubbo, leaning over him slightly. 

“I was told you had a present for me,” Tubbo replies, doing his best to seem at ease while keeping his expression neutral. The ears made it significantly harder to hide how he was feeling, and flicked back and forth anxiously, much to Tubbo’s chagrin. Schlatt’s low chuckle told him that he saw the movement and Tubbo cursed God's name. 

“I do, I do.” Schlatt started, abruptly turning to walk back towards his desk. Tubbo watched the man open one of the drawers, clawing through the clutter until he eventually let a victorious “Aha!”, evidently finding what he was looking for. 

The first thing Tubbo noticed was the smell . The odor was rancid, fetid, and foul, making Tubbo grateful that he hadn’t eaten anything earlier that day. Yet, there were sickly-sweet undertones wafting from the object, something Tubbo quickly recognized as the stench of the death— 

Schlatt pulled the object out from the drawer, revealing the rotting head of a Piglin. The skin had mostly fallen off, revealing yellowing cracked bone underneath. Whatever skin still clung to the skull had toughened into hardened leather and was beginning to peel at the edges. The snout was miraculously intact, though time had noticeably caused it to cave in slightly. 

The most defining feature, however, was the two silver-lined tusks that curved over the muzzle. 

Schlatt toyed with the head for a moment, using a finger to flick its decomposing ears with a quiet chuckle laced with an indescribable mania. 

“Here’s my gift to you, Tubbo,” Schlatt told him once the laughter subsided, holding the head out to him. Tubbo made no move to grab the ‘gift’, opting to just stare at it dumbly like he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. 

Schlatt quickly grew impatient, thrusting the head towards Tubbo once again, waving it around in small semi-circles. “Come on, take it.” He insisted, a steadily forming frown appearing on his features.

“...Is that Techno?” Tubbo muttered, still staring wide-eyed at the head. 

Schlatt laughed like it was the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “The one and only!” 

Tubbo was silent for a moment, thinking. “Why are you giving me this?” He asked, hating how his voice shook. He shouldn’t feel bad, not for the likes of Techno. 

“To keep; it's a trophy, Tubbo. A sign of your triumph. With it, the entire world can know of your accomplishment!” Schlatt replies, dropping the head into Tubbo’s unsuspecting hands, smiling as the boy fumbled with it. 

“But why ?” Tubbo repeated, gazing numbly into the milky white eyes of the Piglin (Techno’s eyes, but Tubbo didn’t want to think about that). 

Schlatt rolled his eyes. “I just told ya’ kid. It's like a morale booster, something you can brag about. It may seem morbid to some, but it shouldn’t be. It’s an art when you really think about it.” 

Tubbo wasn’t sure if he agreed with Schlatt’s form of ‘art’. Though he certainly couldn’t stop the swell of pride that filled his chest the longer he gazed at the head. Techno, in Tubbo’s opinion, looked so much better like this. The great and mighty blade reduced to a crumbling skull in Tubbo’s hands, just the thought of it made an unfamiliar surge of giddiness rush through him. His head swarmed with possibilities, wondering just where he’d put it and— 

Suddenly, Tubbo pulled back, blindly rapidly. When had his mind grown so dark? The ideas had become so twisted, so foreign, that Tubbo was beginning to wonder if they even were his own (Perhaps the Devil placing these thoughts into his head, guiding him like he guided his hand when he was on top of Tommy—) .

Schlatt’s smile faded as he noticed Tubbo’s apparent hesitance. 

“If it makes you feel better, Tubbo, I keep trophies too,” Schlatt told him, making his way back to his desk and rummaging through another draw, this one farther down than the previous. 

With practiced ease, Schlatt’s hand emerged, clutching a small transparent bag in his grip. 

Tubbo looked up from Techno’s head, thankful for the distraction. He was in no mood for deep introspection (it was easier to say it was the Devil’s work than to face his own thoughts) .

Squinting at the bag’s contents, Tubbo could see that the bag was full of what appeared to be a green slime of sorts, though time had rendered it nothing but sticky sludge; reminding Tubbo of putrid honey. Suspended within the first thick slime was a tiny, nearly unnoticeable stick that blended in with the surrounding solution. 

Schlatt was staring at the contents with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, one that could almost be mistaken for tender fondness. 

“This is a very old trophy of mine, one I earned a long time ago,” Schlatt said breathily, presenting it to Tubbo as if the bag were a sight to behold. 

“Where did you get it?” Tubbo asked unsurely, the question was nearly inaudible.

Schlatt simply grinned widely, motioning for him to come closer. Tubbo complied, albeit slowly, taking a step towards the other. Once close, Schlatt roughly grabbed the boy’s arm and then together, nearly chest to chest, and leaned down to one of his ears, hot breath ghosting along beige fur. 

“Friends always leave, Tubbo, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make them stay.” 

The sentence was simple in its delivery, but the implications behind them made Tubbo’s blood run cold. 

Schlatt was mean, cruel even, and could be downright deranged at times, but he had never expected Schlatt to be one to attack those considered close to him. Most men, decent men, never laid a finger upon friends and family. Though, he supposed it was generous to call Schlatt a decent man. 

The other tilted his head at Tubbo, squinting curiously with a smile still plastered onto his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that, Tubbo?” Schlatt questioned, tainted amusement in his voice. “It’s not like you haven’t done the same.” 

Tubbo tried to suppress the flinch that followed after, but Schlatt’s laugh told him that it was futile. 

“Y’know, Tubbs,” Schlatt started, sinister bemusement in his tone. “I was originally going to make you a present out of that friend of yours, Tommy wasn’t it? But… ” He trailed off, taking pleasure in the way Tubbo’s face twisted into an anguished wince. 

“You didn’t exactly leave much behind.” Schlatt finished, laughing as he did so. 

Tubbo looked away from Schlatt, he didn’t want to give him the delight of his pain. 

The others mocking laughter eventually came to a close, ending with Schlatt wiping nonexistent tears from his eyes. His grin gave way to a frown when he noticed that the younger wasn’t laughing with him. 

Tubbo couldn’t believe Schlatt expected him to find it funny. 

“Come on, Tubbs, lighten up won’t you?” Schlatt said, his eyes falling to the head Tubbo still gripped with trembling hands. 

Tubbo didn’t bother formulating a response. 

“Take that with you, hang up in your room somewhere,” Schlatt ordered, placing two hands on Tubbo’s shoulders and turning him to the door. “And don’t be a stranger, I’ll need you here again in a few hours. I have another surprise getting ready for you.” 

Schlatt smiled in what Tubbo thought was supposed to be comforting as he pushed him out the door, though the attempt was clearly faux. 

In only a minute, Tubbo was left standing in the hallway outside of Schlatt’s office door, clutching Techno’s head so tightly that his claws sunk into the hardened skin. 

He dreaded the next hours to come. 

Chapter Text

An hour had passed since the meeting with Schlatt, and Tubbo felt like his nerves were shot, almost as if hellfire itself had burned through his veins and rendered them nothing but crisped strings.

He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, Techno’s decaying head motionless in his lap. A hand rested on top of the Piglin’s head, fingers absentmindedly flicking the rotten ears and cartilage. 

His thoughts constantly wandered back to Schlatt’s words. 

Another surprise; another gruesome gift for poor ole’ Tubbo. The horrible sinking feeling from before returned full force, making him feel sick. It nearly made him wish he had eaten earlier, just to have something to throw up, if only to ease the mounting terror. 

Tubbo inhaled shakily, trying to steady himself. It was too late for worries, it’d be easier to just roll with whatever punches Schlatt threw at him.

His eyes eventually trailed down to the decapitated head in his lap, desperate for a distraction from his raging thoughts. 

Where should he put the head? 

Tubbo looked around the room, searching for a place he could put it so he’d never have to see it again. He pondered just stuffing it in his closet, but he decided against it. His clothes were in there, and he was afraid that the head’s foul aroma would seep in his clothing, permanently soiling them with the stench of death (like Schlatt). 

Perhaps his nightstand? It’s not like he used it often anyway. Besides, the dresser was full of everything Tubbo didn’t want to remember, what’s one more awful memory to the pile? 

Mind made up, Tubbo crawled off his bed, careful not to drop it on the clean duvet, and padded to his nightstand, opening the top drawer (containing Tommy’s bandanna and Wilbur’s old beanie and one of Techno’s crowns—). 

He hovered the head over the open drawer, fully intending to drop it in there to never see the light of day when new, yet not foreign emotions stopped him— 

The same prideful arrogance from earlier pumped through his veins, causing him to tighten his clutch on the head. 

It would be a shame for such a present to rot away, hidden within the confines of a dark dresser. Imagine how much recognition he would receive if the world saw how easily Techno had fallen to the hands of a meager child. He’d be able to flaunt it around like a disgusting, miserable toy. 

Tubbo felt a tiny smile grace his lips at the thought. Oh, how the mighty fall. 

With a sudden change of heart, he moved away from the dresser, pulling the head to his chest. The cold press of the Piglin’s rotting snout through his dress suit made him shudder, and it was nearly enough to make him reconsider. Nearly. 

He stepped towards one of the bedroom’s blandly-colored walls, eyeing a small, unused silver hook that hung from the drywall. There used to be a picture that hung from it, one of two children during a happier time, but it had long since been moved. Presumably, the image was rotting away in the unmarked grave of a boy with missing eyes and blonde hair. 

Nevertheless, it didn’t matter. What did matter, was that the hook, though tarnished with time, still gleamed with a pointed end. Sharp enough, perhaps, to pierce flesh. 

With steadying resolve, Tubbo raised the head over the hook, letting a particularly thick chunk of greying skin catch on the hook’s end. He watched, mesmerized, as he sunk the head down. Had he been utterly fascinated by the sight, he might’ve felt nauseous; maybe even guilty. Yet, at this moment, he felt nothing but unadulterated pride.

As he let go of the head, he let out a satisfied huff as it stood in place. Not faltering in its place for even a second. 

Techno’s head, mounted upon the wall, looked grotesquely elegant, and Tubbo couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it all. The anarchist had come to bring his head back to Wilbur as a trophy, yet it was him that became the trophy by the end of it all. It was poetic in its own morbid way. 

Just the thought it caused Tubbo to let out a sound, one that had him holding a hand tightly over his mouth in shock. The sound had been high and keening, but still so painfully inhuman that he didn’t want to discern the meaning behind it (distantly, he could recall hearing Schlatt make such a noise before, but he didn’t want to think about that).

Before he could ponder any further, he was greeted with sharp knocks at his door. 

“Come in.” He responded in the same curt tone he always used with visitors at the door. 

The door was opened slightly, quietly, as if the person didn’t want to draw much attention to themselves. 

Oddly enough, the figure that sat on the other side was not Quackity, as he had been expecting, but Fundy, who eyed Tubbo up and down wearily. 

The fox’s fur looked unbrushed and matted, the once beautiful red fur reduced to a dirty shade of brown. The sight certainly wasn’t anything new, Schlatt hadn’t left Manburg’s denizens with much, or anything for that matter, to allow them to get by. No, the most curious sight of them all was Fundy’s eyes. 

The eyes in question, though normally a tired, lifeless yellow, were rimmed hues of pink and red. Almost as if he had been crying only minutes beforehand. The wet patches of grey fur on Fundy’s face only proved Tubbo’s theory. 

“Schlatt wants you. It’s…” Fundy trailed off, looking away from Tubbo with a scowl, lips peeling back to show off his canines. “Your surprise… ” He snarled the word like it left an awful, bitter taste in his mouth. 

Tubbo’s ears flicked back a bit. “Thank you Fundy, you’re dismissed.” 

Fundy nodded solemnly, quickly darting away from the door and into the hall beyond, vanishing seamlessly into the shadows that bred within the White House’s vast corridors. And just like that, the Fox was gone as quickly as he came; all whilst being quieter than death itself.

Tubbo swallowed thickly, no time left to dwell now, he had to get to Schlatt. 

The walk to Schlatt’s office was as nerve-wracking as always, yet, as abnormal as it was, there were undertones of excitement buzzing through the air with every step closer to that God-forsaken room.

Some part of Tubbo, the forbidding, baleful part of him that he didn’t know existed until Schlatt came, was chittering with sinful delight; wondering what other carnal pleasure would be brought forth to him today. 

He didn’t even need to knock once he made it to Schlatt’s office door, as it slammed open the second he raised up a fist. 

“Ah, Tubbo! I’ve been expecting you.” Schlatt said gleefully, clapping his together in a childish manner that made him appear twenty years younger as he beckoned Tubbo inside. “Come in, Come in! You’re going to love what I have planned!”

Tubbo went in quietly with no complaints. No point in them anyway. 

Stepping into the office Tubbo was greeted with a familiar sight. So much, in fact, that he could feel himself tense and his knees buckle from the rush of emotions that hit him all at once. So many awful reminders in such little time. 

Schlatt’s desk had been moved from its usual place in the center of the room and had been pushed up half hazardously against one of the polished walls. Sitting where the desk would normally be a small metal chair, with legs so thin that they looked as if they’d snap at any given moment. Tubbo could still faintly make out the black splotches from its last use.

The chair, however, wasn’t nearly as interesting as the person strapped into it.

Bound and gagged in the chair was none other than the very man who had built L’Manburg from the ground up, the man who turned a desolate piece of land into a symphony for the ages; Wilbur Soot. 

His arms and legs were tied to the chair’s flimsy arms and legs, and the sight alone was enough to send Tubbo careening back into a simplistic time. Back to the dreadful time before this whole hellish nightmare began, back when he was still pure—

Weak. His mind supplied. He wasn’t the same meek Tubbo anymore; he was stronger now, better. 

There were notable differences between Wilbur and the faceless man from so long ago, the most particular being what Wilbur was tied up with. Instead of cheap rope and ragged cloth, the former leader was wrapped tightly in finely woven silk and velvet ranging from different spectrums of ruby, gold, and silver. If he squinted into the office’s dim lighting, he could even make out the twinkle of tiny gemstones embedded neatly into the plush fabrics. The other even had ribbons of soft cloth draped along his torso and shoulders, something that Tubbo was sure the man absolutely didn’t need to keep him bound. 

The sight looked like something out of someone’s perverse fantasies. 

“Lovely sight, isn’t it Tubbo?” Schlatt’s voice rang out from somewhere behind him. He could practically hear the smirk in his words. 

Tubbo looked the helpless revolutionary up and down. The other struggled underneath his bindings, his tongue occasionally lolling out and dampening the pale cloth serving as a gag. The boy could see light traces of fear racing in his hazel eyes as he twitched, but it was overshadowed by the sheer hatred seeping out of the man. Hatred clearly directed at Schlatt and him. 

Tubbo didn’t understand how anyone would find this lovely at all.

Schlatt must’ve noticed his downtrodden expression, as he was quick to speak up. “Don’t look so glum, Tubbo! Makes you look like Fundy, y’know.” 

Wilbur’s head shot up at the mention of the fox, growling through the gag. Schlatt only laughed at the reaction, placing a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder. 

“Hah! He’s all mad that Fundy towed him up here,” Schlatt started, leaning over Wilbur’s incapacitated figure with a wide smile. “Got anything to say to that, loverboy? How’s it feel to know that your own son betrayed you?” He reached a hand up to the moist gag and pulled it down slightly, just enough to reveal Wilbur’s lips. 

“You sonofabitch— !” Was all the man managed to get out as a harsh slap resonated from his cheek. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” Schlatt pouted, lowering his hand slowly. “You’d think you’d be nicer to the man who dressed you up so nicely.”

“Go to hell!” Wilbur snarled defiantly, practically shaking with rage despite his bindings. 

Schlatt just sighed dramatically. “And here I thought you’d be good. Ah well, let’s just skip to the good part.” He said, stuffing the gag back into Wilbur’s mouth and sauntering to his desk, thoughtlessly rummaging through one of the drawers. 

With a pleased hum, he emerged with two translucent bags, similar to the one Schlatt kept his ‘trophy’ except smaller. He held out the bags to Tubbo, who took them wordlessly, and walked back over to Wilbur. 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Schlatt smiled devilishly, all teeth and no warmth as he reached into the pocket of his dress shirt. In only a second, the horned man pulled out a small scalpel. One with an edge so sharp it looked as if it could cut through the hardest diamond with ease. 

Schlatt brought the scalpel down, hovering it dangerously near Wilbur’s right eye.

“This is going to hurt, y’know.” He said passively, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Tubbo heard Wilbur take in a sharp intake of breath, but, in true Wilbur fashion, no other sound was made. Wilbur was never one to show weakness, especially to one considered an enemy. The only sign of his discomfort could be seen in the way his eyes instinctively fluttered closed as if that could protect them from what happened next.

Schlatt huffed and raised a hand to the closed eye, using his index finger and thumb to pull Wilbur’s eyelids apart, revealing the frenzied hazel orb underneath. 

“ Beautiful… ” Tubbo heard Schlatt mutter under his breath, gazing at the bound man with a distorted sense of adoration. Tubbo only writhed uncomfortably, feeling as though this was meant to be something a bit more private, and frantically looked for any way to excuse himself, shoulders slumping once he found none. 

Schlatt lowered the scalpel closer to Wilbur’s eye, the blade inches away from piercing the soft pink flesh that surrounded the eye and—

Tubbo shut his eyes tightly, unwilling to see the gruesome sight. Despite closing his eyes, he still knew the exact moment the blade started cutting, Wilbur’s muffled howl acted well enough as an indication. 

“Oh hush… ” Schlatt remarked breathily, nearly inaudible over the pained wails. 

Tubbo squeezed his eyes closed tighter, his ears flicking downwards as if to block out the sound. He had felt so proud the day Techno was hung, what made this any different? Perhaps it was the intimacy of it all, or maybe it’s because Wilbur was a friend once upon of time. He supposed that it didn’t matter, all he wanted right now was for the screaming to stop. 

A new sound suddenly reached his twitching ears, one that somehow echoed over Wilbur’s deafening cries. It was a haunting, high, keening sound, something akin to a demon’s screeching during a cold summer’s night. It reminded him of the noise he had made earlier that day. 

Peeking open an eye, Tubbo could see Schlatt standing over the disgraced leader, cradling something in his palm. Looking closer, he saw the circular shape of an eye resting there, occasionally rolling back and forth from its spot in Schlatt’s hand and leaving slick in its wake. 

The man in question gazed at the eye almost lovingly, cooing softly to it as if it were a child. At that moment, he looked oblivious to the world around him, paying no mind to Wilbur’s steadily dying out screams and labored breaths. 

Schlatt then snapped up abruptly, eyes landing on Tubbo’s figure with a pleased smile. 

“Hand me one of those bags, won't you?” He asked, voice full of honey. It nearly allowed the boy to pretend that the man hadn’t just carved another’s eye out. 

Tubbo handed the other one of the bags, taking care to let no emotion pass through his expression. Better not to accidentally offend the man with the scalpel, lest he wanted to find himself in that accursed chair next.

Schlatt took the bag with vigor, cheerfully rolling the eye from his palm into the bag. The eye fell in with a soft, though thoroughly disgusting, squishing noise. With that, he sealed up the bag, admiring it in his hand briefly before turning to Tubbo once more. 

“It’d be a shame if we didn’t have a matching set, wouldn't it?” Schlatt asked though Tubbo knew very well that it wasn’t a question. 

Schlatt holds the scalpel, bloody and drenched in fluid, out to him, staring expectantly. 

Tubbo reaches his hand out for a moment before stopping halfway. He didn’t know what was stopping him, this situation was no different to Techno’s, so why couldn’t he just  do it?

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now, son.” Schlatt chided, frowning slightly. 

Ah, there it was. It was that word that seemed to set something off in Tubbo. Perhaps it was the part of him that was eager to please, or maybe the monstrous part that reveled in the prospect of fresh blood. Either way, he felt himself reach out once more for the blade, his body on autopilot and—

The next few moments were a blur to Tubbo. 

He felt himself be roughly pushed out of the way, landing on the ground at an odd angle that sent pain shooting up the base of his spine, stemming from his unseen tail. Though dizzy and dazed, he could make out the blurry figure of Wilbur, draped in torn silk and cloth, tackle Schlatt to the ground. 

When did Wilbur get out?

The former leader was wrestling the scalpel from Schlatt’s grip now, the hole where his eye once was dripped blood onto the horned man’s freshly pressed suit in small, steady rivers. Wilbur retched the scalpel from the other man’s hand and, with a victorious cry, sliced it across Schlatt’s chest. With no armor on other than a suit, the sharpened blade cut through it like crimson butter and—

As quickly as the event occurred, it was over. 

Guards, all armed to the teeth with netherite, busted down the door, presumably alerted by Wilbur’s shrill scream. Two of them hurled Wilbur off Schlatt by the arms, another two supported their wounded president and slowly helped him to his feet, mindful of the wound.

Schlatt, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the blood running down his chest and staining his suit. In fact, he was grinning madly and letting out those same ghoulish high keening sounds from earlier as he watched the guardsmen drag Wilbur off to the prison. 

Schlatt, too, was dragged off by Quackity, who was most likely taking the wounded man to the medical wing. Quackity even shot the other a look as he helped Schlatt to his feet, concerned that the noises tearing from his throat weren’t stopping. 

Eventually, a guard that Tubbo couldn’t recognize helped him to his feet, slowly escorting him to his room despite not being injured. 

As he walked back to his bedroom, however, Tubbo was hit with a realization. That high note, that haunting sound… 

It meant triumph.