Archive of Our Own

“The weight of the world is love.  Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction.”

-Allen Ginsberg

Ever since Tommy was convicted—no, even before that—ever since Tubbo became president, after that fateful, terrible day, (the fireworks exploded in beautiful bloody colors—now this is familiar—the boom, the ringing, the roars, the shock, the death—) , ever since Tubbo was pushed into this position and forced to hold all this responsibility, no, even before that, when Schlatt made him his right-hand man and he became Pogtopia’s spy, Tubbo felt a pool of resentment, frustration, and anger squirm and grow within him, gradually growing bigger, accumulating and piling and piling and piling until all he could feel was an utter mess of tension and rage and—

Exhaustion.

Tubbo was tired.

He was so, so goddamn tired.

Tired of the wars, tired of fighting.

Tired of having to be perfect.  Tired of having to meet everyone’s needs and expectations.

Tired of no one listening to him.

Every time, since Schlatt and to this moment, no one seems to listen.

They expect him to agree with everything, they expect him to do everything they say without question because Tubbo is such a nice guy, and oh, Tubbo would agree with me, and oh, Tubbo would never disagree, no he would never do such a thing, and—

“You’re just a yes-man, aren’t you?”

And perhaps he was.

“Tubbo, as my right-hand man, as my Secretary of State of L’manburg, I need you to do something for me, Tubbo.”

“...What, Mr. President?”

“I need you to find Tommy, and I need you to show him the door.”

…

“...Tommy, I’m gonna need you to come with me.”

….

“You could be our spy on the inside.”

…

“I’m giving you the ignition here, alright?”

...

“Let the festival begin!”

He’s always trapped between a rock and a hard place.

“I know what you’ve been doing, Tubbo.”

Schlatt always kept him on edge, being Pogtopia’s spy came with so many risks.  He couldn’t get rid of the lingering paranoia whenever the horned man whispered whatever new plan he needed help with, but it’s fine.  Helping Tommy and Wilbur any way he could was good.  It’ll be worth it, he told himself.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo.”

[Tubbo_ went off with a bang due to a firework fired from [Subscribe to Technoblade] by Technoblade]

He didn’t quite forgive Technoblade, but what was one (his) death matter in the face of the fate of the country?

“I want you to get the hell out of here.”

...

“Stop speaking on behalf of Tubbo.  I want to hear what he thinks.”

And even though Wilbur was clearly deteriorating mentally, Tubbo appreciated that one moment where he could speak his mind.

Even if the others didn’t like his opinion.

When Tommy was offered the position of president and refused, when Wilbur gave the presidency to Tubbo, he was surprised but also nervous.  Was he really the most capable for this position?

And then Wilbur pushed the button and Techno spawned the withers.  L’manburg was nothing but a crater in the ground.

“Tubbo, look around.  You’re the president now.”

L’manburg deserved a capable leader.  L’manburg deserved stability in this time of rebuilding.  He couldn’t very well refuse.  (Even if he couldn’t quite tell if this was truly a good idea.)

“It’s not the first time I’ve had nothing.”

He resorts to his optimism as always.  L’manburg needs optimism and hope now more than ever.

Slowly but surely, L’manburg builds itself back up.  New and improved structures and homes are built, (mostly by his hand), along with beautiful decorations set up by Ghostbur.  (Tubbo would rather not get into that.  He doesn’t want to get into all the downright depressing subtext Ghostbur is giving off.)

(He feels empathy and a bit of guilt, in that regard.  Perhaps if he and the others urged Wilbur to get the help he so clearly needed, if they told him that they really did care, maybe Wilbur wouldn’t be stuck in this purgatory between life and death where he can’t remember the simplest things about himself and fracturing from the inside out.)

(He sees the pain on his face when he remembers the bad things, when he forgets, when the people around him can’t quite look him in the eyes and he can’t understand why.)

(The few times he sees Phil, all he can see is the barely-suppressed guilt and grief he holds.  Sometimes he catches him staring at the sunset on top of his house in L’manburg or at the docks, looking at the view or at his hands, trembling.)

(And he can see Tommy’s grief as well, in how he shouts and snaps more, how he makes more rash decisions than before, how he doesn’t quite smile genuinely as much and doesn’t offer to sit with him at the bench as much as they used to.)

Tubbo sees the grief and pain of his citizens and even those who aren’t.  It’s his responsibility now to be the strong one.  The one with all the answers.  The one that everyone can count on.

As always.

The stress is getting to him, he thinks.  L’manburg is doing fairly well so far, considering… everything, but Tubbo has to deal with so many problems on a daily basis.

It doesn’t help when people repeatedly tell him that he’s not doing that great of a job.

He gets it, he really does.  L’manburg’s standing is still unstable, and the future is unclear.  The people are worried, and maybe Tubbo isn’t doing as much as he should (even though he is doing most of the work around this place).   He knows how much more he should be doing, but did they really have to say it to his face?

So when he wakes up one day to obsidian walls encasing L’manburg that are growing higher and higher, and after gathering the majority of his cabinet, Fundy and Quackity, and sees Tommy running up to him with slightly panicked and unintelligible ramblings and explanations, he sighs.

“Tommy, I swear to god if you had anything to do with this, there will be consequences.”

His friend shakes his head vehemently.

“No, no, no, no.  Listen to me.  Does this sound like something I would do?”

Quackity scoffs a little beside him.

“This sounds exactly like what you would do.”

And Tubbo finds that he has to agree.

The trial is a disaster, to put it simply.  It’s plainly obvious that Tommy is guilty, even without Dream or George saying anything.  The evidence is stacked on him, and it’s not looking good at all.

He wants this to resolve peacefully and make it beneficial for both sides.  He wants Dream to tear the walls back down and he doesn’t want his best friend to be exiled, he really does, but Tommy is not helping his case right now.

“Tommy I need to be unbiased, here,” he says, attempting to keep calm and collected.

“But you’re my—”

“Tommy, you’re not going up against me!” Tubbo shouts while the commotion rings throughout the courtroom.

“Tommy, I’m on your side here, but you’ve—”

“Well then, get me out of this fucking box!—” he interjects.

“No, no no—”

“Get me out of this box, even if I did do it—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up—”

Just let me help you!

The rest of the trial goes similarly.  George makes his case, while Tommy sputters his hysterical explanations.

Excuses, Tubbo thinks and tries not to be bitter.

“It was the perfect crime, okay?!” Tommy laughs, and Tubbo can’t help the acid that bubbles in the back of his mind at that.

Throughout the meeting with Dream a few days later, all Tubbo feels is unease.  When Tommy reveals his trump card over Dream, Spirit, the unease grows.  Dream is scarily quiet through all of this and doesn’t say a thing while Tommy goes on about how with the leather of Dream’s late horse in hand, they have the upper hand.

They walk to the wall as Tommy, Fundy, and Quackity mock and taunt Dream, and all the while, the mysterious, menacing man trails along in silence.

Surely it can’t be that easy, Tubbo dreads.

The three cabinet members celebrate as Dream starts to tear down the walls.  Tubbo still feels as though something isn’t right.

“There was a peaceful way to do this.  This is not how this should’ve gone.”

“No one’s getting hurt, Tubbo!  No one’s getting hurt,” Fundy assures.

“This is blackmail,” Tubbo argues.

“So what?!”

“The discs—”

“Tubbo, you’re acting like this is the first time,” Fundy remarks.

“Yeah, you’ve done so many not peaceful things before.  This isn’t some huge epiphany,” Tommy declares.

And of course, that’s true.

“But this was supposed to be a new era…” he mutters.

A better, peaceful, era.  A fresh start, unburdened by the violence of the past.

(“A celebration of democracy, of law, and of the new era of peace,” the echo of the previous president rattles in his brain.)

“This just feels like history repeating itself,” he says skeptically.

The others are still convinced that everything is fine.  (Surely not, it’s too easy.  It’s too easy.)   They look at Dream and don’t remember the damage that he did to L’manburg all that time ago, at the country’s birth, they don’t remember how he gave Wilbur those eleven and a half stacks of TNT, they don’t remember how he had cheered when L’manburg was blown to smithereens.

When Quackity goes up to Dream and mocks him once again, the calm facade shatters.

The air shifts, and Tubbo instantly feels the change.

“Listen.  You fucked up this time.”

The simple white mask looks all the more frightening.

“I don’t give a fuck about Spirit.  I don’t give a fuck about anything, actually.  I care about your discs. ”  The hooded man stomps purposefully each step, closer and closer to Tommy.

“That’s the only thing I care about, actually.  I care more about your discs than you do because that’s the thing that gives me power over you, your friends, and everyone you care about. ”  The shouting increases and his hands move in violent strokes.  Tommy has gone quiet, looking directly at Dream with fear in his eyes.

“You care about those discs more than anything.  So if you are not exiled, I will build these walls higher and higher, hire guards to patrol the area, keeping everyone inside.  No trade, no armor, or they get slaughtered inside.” Dream yells.  Even with the mask, Tubbo can see the rage in his eyes.

“Don’t try and threaten me.  I don’t care. ”

(For why would a god care for the safety of his people when all that occurs is conflict and war?)

(When does someone give up on peace?)

(When does it not matter anymore?)

( Tubbo barely remembers when all that happened in the SMP was childish pranks and hanging out with friends.  Dream used to be fun, kind, even.  He used to laugh genuinely all the time.  When did that stop? )

Dream leaves them with an ultimatum.

“Listen, Tubbo,” he says like he’s talking to a child (and is that too far from the truth? ).

“If you don’t exile him in three days, I’ll do what I said,” he announces.

“L’manburg can be independent, but L’manburg can’t be free.”

His steps fade away.

Tubbo clenches his fists and looks at the ground.

“You had one job. ”

Tommy glances at him immediately.

“You had one job.  Be positive, be peaceful.  And you messed it up.”

“You fucked up—” Quackity whispers.

At that, Tubbo turns to his other cabinet members.

“This is on you two as well!  You all went along with it!”

I warned you!  I told you this would happen!

Fundy and Quackity fumble for excuses and Tubbo can only tighten his fists and try to breathe.

“He’s only doing this to get under your skin and get you to turn on me,” his friend insists.

Why are you making this so hard?  I’m trying my best to do this.  Why won’t you listen?

“You had one job.  You couldn’t do one thing for me.  You couldn’t do one!  Just one thing!  And it was for your own good!” he asserts.

Please, I can’t handle this.  Don’t you understand my responsibility?

“So you know what, if the roles were reversed, as you said,” he proclaims, “yeah.  You probably wouldn’t exile me because I would have actually listened to you, and done what you said.  And maybe had a couple ounces of respect. ”

(He’s so tired.  Tired of this burden that he has to carry, and no one lending a hand to help.  No one considering, for once, ‘hey, maybe we shouldn’t create conflicts right after a war had just ended!’)

(The frustration is building, he can’t—)

Tubbo wills himself to look at the ground.

“Selfish.”

Tommy’s head snaps towards him, and he avoids the hurt that’s no doubt reflected in those eyes.

“The only thing he wants is the one thing I care about!”

Oh.

“Well, not the one thing…”

“Mhm.  The one thing you care about. ”

Oh.

They spend two days planning.  Tubbo debates with his cabinet and himself on the best course of action.

It’s an impossible decision.

Does he sacrifice the safety of everyone in L’manburg for the sake of their friendship?  Do one person’s wishes override the fate of the country?

It doesn’t and it shouldn’t, Tubbo thinks.

Tommy has this blind faith in him, believing he would never even consider exiling his friend.

But what Tommy still doesn’t understand is that not everything is about them.  They couldn’t just do anything they wanted.

Actions have consequences.

Am I the only one here who understands that?

The others don’t have to decide the fate of the country.  The others don’t have the weight of everyone’s lives on their back.  The others don’t have to choose between a friend and the citizens of L’manburg.

(“I’ve been president for less than two weeks!”)

(“You’re really fucking things up.”)

I know, I know, but you don’t have to remind me!

Let this end well, please.

Today is the day.   The day of reckoning.

And Tubbo still can’t decide.

The four of them meet up again to come to a conclusion.

“We can’t keep letting Dream pull the strings,” Quackity proclaims.

“We didn’t get this far by listening to him, by bending to his will,” Tommy agrees.  “Now is not the time where we stop.”

Tubbo agrees, he does.

And yet…

And yet—

“I reckon we get The Blade. ”

(Red, white, and blue—

“You want to be a hero, Tommy?”

Two stands of soul sand and six mystical skulls.

“THEN DIE LIKE ONE!”

Screaming and the cackling of manic laughter—)

Tommy encourages Fundy and Quackity to take a stand.

“Tonight is the night of war.”

Tubbo’s worries are overlooked.

“I really think going to Technoblade is a bad idea.”

The withers, the festival—

“If you exile me, Dream doesn’t have a reason to not destroy L’manburg.  He’ll make the biggest government of all time.  Technoblade.  What does he hate?  He hates government.”

(“Listen to me!  I did not spend weeks, planning this revolution, giving you guys gear, for you guys to go in and replace one tyrant with another.”)

“We have more of us than Dream.”

He isn’t alone.

“Technoblade will be on our side.”

(“You just did a hostile government takeover and immediately instilled yourself as president.  And then you gave it to your friend, but that’s still a tyrant. ”)

His cabinet marches with all the confidence and bluster of the world to the walls where Dream stands imposingly.  Again, they are all insults, impulse, and arrogance as Dream listens quietly, arms crossed and eerie.

“I’m much calmer than I was before, now that I’ve sat and thought about it, what Tommy threatened,” he says slowly.  He stares at him through the mask, and Tubbo feels as though he is looking through his very soul.

“You’re the best leader that L’manburg has ever had,” Dream continues silkily.  “You’ve always made the best decisions for L’manburg as a gracious leader, and I trust that whatever decision that you came to was the best one for L’manburg.”

He can almost hear the smile on his face.

Whatever confidence Tubbo had with the plan diminishes.

This is a bad idea.

This… this won’t work.

Dream is powerful, too powerful, he realizes.  With their shoddy armor, limited supplies, and no guarantee of allies, what chance do they have?

Fighting would just get us all killed.

(“Independence or death.  If we get no revolution, then we want nothing.  We would rather die than give in to you and join your SMP.”)

Tubbo chuckles.  It all comes full circle, he muses.  But we were all different people, back then.

“You know, this is funny, actually,” he laughs sorrowfully.  “Tommy,” he glances at his best friend.  His eyes are filled with confusion.

“I am so, so sorry.”

He looks back at Dream.  I’m sorry.

“Dream.  I’ve come to the decision that it would be best for the nation, the most logical thing to do, for Tommy to be exiled from L’manburg.”

“WHAT—”

“Teaming with Technoblade,” he starts, “is an awful idea!”

“We just had this conversation—”

“War is not the best for this nation.  Nothing involving any kind of conflict is the best for this nation,” he argues.

“You guys are thinking emotionally, irrationally.  You need to think logically.  There’s more than just us four that live here. ”

Can’t you see?

Shouting erupts, everyone yelling over each other and screaming at him.

And he can’t—

Why can’t they just listen—

“ That’s enough!   You’ve undermined my authority from the get-go!  No one here has respected me!  You all jump on these merry little bandwagons of destruction.  It’s—it’s not okay. ”  He clenches his teeth and holds his arm tightly in his grip.

“You agreed with us!  Why—why would you go back on the plan now ?!”  Tommy looks at him with shock and despair.

Tubbo’s grip on his arm tightens more.  I told you this was a bad idea but you didn’t listen to me.  You all interrupted me when I was trying to make my point!

“When I was sworn (forced) in, I made a promise to do what was best for the nation.  And you, Tommy, your presence here right now, is not the best for this nation.”

He hates saying this, but at the same time—

“All of this,” he gestures to the walls, the structures of New L’manburg, “is based around the music discs.  We can’t sacrifice everything for the music discs.”

“But before everything, before L’manburg—the discs, Tubbo.  What about the discs?” Tommy begs.

“They’re just music discs.”

Tommy goes silent.

“You know what this looks like, Tubbo?” Fundy asks furtively.  “You know what this looks like?  You’re acting like Schlatt. ”

No, I—

“Why?!” Tommy shouts.

“This isn’t the right way,” he tries to explain.  You’ll all get killed.  Nothing good will come of this.  Please.

“How is this the right way?!  How are the discs—can’t you see—” his friend cuts in and—

And Tubbo, he is so sick and tired of everyone not listening to him, so tired of being disregarded, so tired of no one taking him seriously—

“THE DISCS DON’T MATTER, TOMMY!  How can you not see that?!” he snaps.

Don’t I matter more to you than the discs?   He wants to say. 

But he’s been shut up and ignored for so long, decisions forced on him and was expected to smile and deal with it all without complaint, that he can’t even properly articulate what he really wants to say anymore.

Tommy, with this statement, looks at him with betrayal.

“If the discs don’t matter,” he stutters, “then why—if you don’t have any attachment to things, if nothing matters, then, why does any of this matter at all?”

Tubbo stares into his friend’s eyes and he fights off the tears that are building.  I don’t want this.   He turns to Dream, who had been silent throughout the argument, who was watching calculatingly.

But at the end of the day, what choice does he have?

“Dream, please detain and escort Tommy out of my country.”

Fundy and Quackity sputter at him, and he can’t help the guilt that comes when he sees their faces, the sense of betrayal clear in their eyes.

Dream shoves Tommy off the wall and starts to drag him away, but Tommy stubbornly stays put.

“Tommy, you are hereby exiled.”  The words taste like poison on Tubbo’s tongue.

“You’re my friend,” he pleads.

I’m sorry.

“Goodbye, Tommy.”

Rain pours down as his friend’s figure disappears into the distance.

The bitterness (listen, listen, listen —) builds once again when Quackity announces that the Butcher Army should go after Technoblade.

What did I just say?  I did all this for the safety of the country, for everyone.  What’s the point in this, anymore?

But the president of nothing stays silent.

He talks to Ranboo later that night.  He gazes at L’manburg from above and wonders why he has to do any of this.

“I think you’d be a good president, Ranboo,” Tubbo murmurs.

“Well, if I win the next election, you’ll be vice president, so you’ll still have some power,” Ranboo concedes.

(“I didn’t want any of this.”)

“I don’t think I want power,” the president admits.

At that moment, Ranboo looks at him with pure empathy and understanding, and Tubbo feels like crying.

Instead, he continues to watch the moonlight and the glittering lanterns strewn about the damaged land.

“But the universe isn’t fair.

Things don’t work out neatly, pain, hardship, and challenges divided equally among those best equipped to deal with them.

Sometimes individuals have to be Atlases and carry the weight of the world alone.

It shouldn’t happen that way, but it does.”

-Darren Shan