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Tubbo isn't a good person and he knows it.
He supposes he should hate himself for this fact.
He doesn't.
He finds himself enjoying it sometimes, like some kind of guilty pleasure. A weird twisted version of a coping mechanism. Something born from his yearning for a semblance of control; his long to not be the second option.
Tubbo finds himself missing the yelling and showdowns. He finds himself trying to insinuate arguments because life got boring and he wasn't in the spotlight anymore.
Something deep inside him yells at him to stop, to get help before it's too late, to try and salvage what's left before he says something he'll regret.
He ignores that voice.
Maybe he should have listened to that voice, he thinks bitterly.
(“Don’t you get it? I don’t love you! I said I did because I was bored! I was bored okay! There's your answer! It's not my fault you were so easily convinced, it's not MY fault you got attached and then wanted to adopt a kid!” )
Maybe it's why he finds himself signing up for a shady underground fighting ring in Hypixel, one that definitely was not official nor safe, let alone mod certified.
“And, what would you like to be called?” The lady at the reception asks him, a clipboard in hand. It’s not much of a reception, there’s not even a desk. Only a lady with a clipboard standing in front of the entrance to the ring, with two big men in behind her. Probably to make sure no one fought their way in they weren’t approved to join the competition.
Tubbo thinks for a moment. He doesn’t know why, but he chooses Atlas.
The woman writes his name (although it’s not actually his name) down. “Go sit in the chairs and wait for your name to be called. Feel free to grab a weapon off the rack if you don’t have one on you.”
Lucky for him, he already has his own weapon.
2
Back when Tubbo was on the SMP, he tried his best to stray away from conflict or anything. He was a bit of a pushover. He thinks it’s because back then, he was scared of his own anger. Back then, he could actually regret things.
It doesn’t really last for long though, once he becomes president of New L’manberg, he can feel himself caring less and less. He feels himself only really caring for sleep, food and the occasional liquor down his tongue no matter how sick the last one made him feel. He often found himself searching for the anger instead of avoiding it, because at that point it was the only thing he could feel. The stress had pushed out everything else, leaving room for nothing but rage.
What better way to find anger, than hearing your best friend is an arsonist, a criminal. Your best friend and your vice president, a criminal. No better way to be angry than that, right?
Looking back on it, there were smaller things to be mad about, but this was big so even now, he can’t really blame himself for feeling angry. However, he was never good with anger back then—still isn’t. He sucked back then, he’s not going to lie.
So when Dream goes on and on and on about it, talking his ear off, saying how Tommy just isn’t suitable for vice—maybe not suitable for the rest of the SMP either. When he starts building those walls back up around the nation, it only fuels his anger.
And his need to yell at someone. His need to hurl insults, his need to be… to be… to be awful , okay? It fuels his insatiable hunger for something interesting to happen, even if that something was conflict.
He exiles his best friend.
He doesn’t regret it. (Well, at least not for a while. Nowadays, he regrets a lot of things.)
+1
The night is cold. Nights often are cold in Snowchester, and he can feel that feeling again. The feeling of anger, the feeling of rage and the urge to yell and scream. Even if he’d done enough screaming that day—a lot of those days were spent screaming. A lot of them were. A few of them were spent with a nice family dinner, playing with Michael and Ranboo in the snow, but more of them were spent arguing with Ranboo instead. And Michael? Michael would be upstairs. That’s where he would be.
They argued outside most of the time though, so it’s not like the child had to hear it.
The day had already been… shitty. Well, not shitty, more like average.
He’d woken up like shit, thrown water on his face, and gone outside. Mindlessly collected wood. He came home, the living room was messy. Probably because someone forgot to clean it yesterday. He cleans it up. He feels resentful, because he didn’t make the mess, why should he clean it up? The person who made it should clean it up, not him.
The thing was, Ranboo was out that day. He was in the arctic. Probably with Technoblade. The idea that his husband preferred to spend his time with Technoblade of all people—the guy who’d blown out half of Tubbos face—only really made him more angry.
He checked upstairs. Michael is sleeping. He decided he might as well make breakfast. Then he made pancakes, a classic. Michael wakes up. They eat pancakes together, father and son bonding.
But Tubbo still felt needlessly angry.
The door creaked open, then closes. Ranboo is back, early too. Tubbo asked him why, he says it’s because Philza told him Techno was sick and they couldn't go totem hunting as a trio that day, so he simply decided to come back to Snowchester and hang out with his family—except, the hybrid doesn’t refer to Snowchester as home (but he refers to the arctic as home. And the thought of that makes Tubbo clench his fork to the point it might break), he simply refers to it as Snowchester.
There's tension in the air. Michael seemingly doesn’t notice.
Then, Ranboo got up, he left his plate at the sink—which made sense, the guy couldn’t exactly watch the dishes. It still made fire burn in his chest though; yet another mess he had to clean up. Yet another useless chore that someone else could have done instead. He’ll confront Ranboo about it later, he ends up deciding.
Later, it turns out, is late at night, when it’s far too cold to go out. Far too cold.
Tubbo asks him if he can wash the dishes. “Don’t you have your gloves on you?”
Ranboo says he forgot them at home (otherwise known as the arctic, not Snowchester.)
Tubbo rolls his eyes. He spits out something about how it’s always forgetting with you, isn’t it?
Ranboo croaks something out.
Then it escalated.Tubbo doesn’t really remember the conversation, other than one specific thing he said.
“Don’t you get it? I don’t love you! I said I did because I was bored! I was bored okay! Here's your answer! It's not my fault you were so easily convinced, it's not MY fault you got attached and then wanted to adopt a kid!”
He regrets it the moment he says it. The first time he’s regretted in a long, long time.
But it’s too late, he’s said what he’s said and there’s no way to take it back. It’s too late, his husband, the love of his life, stands there with wide eyes and tears forming on his cheeks. They’re both breathing heavily; Tubbo is breathing heavier. Ranboo’s breathing is just quiet.
Ranboo is the first one to speak. After gaining control of his expression and after making his breathing normal again, he says: “Okay.”
That’s all he said. All he said was okay. Almost as if he was expecting it, almost as if this was in character for Tubbo, almost as if he wasn’t surprised. (The only thing giving away his shock was the blown open eyes, the breathing.)
And what does Tubbo do?
Despite the feeling in his chest, despite the burning, despite the screaming in his mind to just say sorry, to just apologize, just regret it like you know you do! He continues. “I’m leaving.”
And Ranboo just says okay again, and Tubbo runs upstairs, throws a few things in his bag and grabs his communicator. He removes the contacts of everyone on the SMP, and he leaves the house.
He leaves the house and before he knows it, he’s at the server portal.
Before he knows it, he’s left the server, and he’s left for good.
(Tubbo_ left the game.)