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“Tubbo you gotta fucking listen to me man, you gotta listen to me-“ Tommy feverishly shakes Tubbo’s shoulders, the President wiggling like a ragdoll, head violently falling back in forth in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible, Tubbo squirms under the grip and attempts to free himself from this man made hell.
“What! What! What are you on about?!” He grabs Tommy right on back, using all of his might to try and stop the vice from murdering him by velocity suffocation, it only tames the violence.
“Fuck Tubbo,” He lets go— shoving Tubbo down into his chair and stepping back, pushing a hand through his hair and walking around the office in his frenzy, “fuck man what am I NOT on about!”
“I don’t know!” Tubbo attempts to fix his suit from the ruffle, he may be making it worse. He gives Tommy a worried glance, holding into his chair in slight fear, “It would be great if you told me though!”
Tommy laughs, craze lining his voice, “You don’t know! God you know you just haven’t seen it through Tubbo!”
“You’re being real vague here and if I’m honest it’s not helping your house arrest!”
“Tubbo— oh you!” He stops himself from strangling his friend, taking a deep breath, “I’ve realized something Tubbo.”
“You have?” He sits back in the Presidential Chair, attempting to relax himself. His heart still beats at 183 btm.
“A terrible one Tubbo a terrible one,” he slams his palms on the edge of the desk, falling to his knees—a clap echoes through the room, “God Tubbo, you know how my mother is a Samsung Refrigerator?”
“Um—I was not aware that my adoptive mother was a refrigerator!”
“ WELL SHE IS TUBBO AND I'LL TELL YOU SHES A RATHER LOVELY LADY AND THE FACT YOU DO— “ He pauses, “It’s not much of a secret honestly Tubbo how did you not know?”
“I don’t know, Wilbur hasn't flesh out my backstory at all. I'm not regularly aware of these things.” He scoots the chair closer to the desk, grabbing some papers and sorting them out.
“Well—that’s fact, and you know how Wilbur’s wife is—was a salmon?” Tommy looks at him with desperate eyes.
“Yeah…”
Tommy sighs, “And Techno…”
“Oh…”
“The Enderman…” Tommy drops his head to the desk, letting out a strained cry.
“Oh my god.” Tubbo looks to the wall in disbelief.
“MY FAMILY IS ALL MONSTERFUCKERS!”
“They are,” Tubbo scrunches his brows, “How did they all mana—“
“Tubbo what if it’s genetic?!”
“Huh?”
“WHAT IF ITS GENETIC?” Tommy stands up, banging his fist against the table, “I can’t bring myself down the same path! I can’t!”
Tubbo goes to speak, but pauses… finger raised as he thinks the words over in his head.
“Spit it out!” Tommy bangs his fist against the table again, Tubbo wonders if he’s drank some coffee or something today.
“Aren’t you married to the grind?”
“Holy shit.”
“I’m sorry.”
Tommy falls to his knees, curling up to a ball of sorrows on the floor; “NOO TUBBO! HOW DID I LET MYSELF COME TO THIS?!”
Tubbo: “Tubbo”
God help Sleepy Bios Inc.