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Summary
There were times when Tubbo wasn’t proud of the kind of person he’d become. During his time as President of New L’Manburg, he’d had many moments of weakness when the alcohol cabinet looked a bit too appealing to resist, or when he lost his temper against someone who didn’t deserve it.
And yet, even after having stooped so low as to resemble Schlatt in all but name, he’d never once found himself quite as confused as that morning.
His hands were covered in blood. That was the first thing he noticed upon waking up. From the absence of stabbing pain anywhere on his body, he could tell that it wasn’t his blood either. Soot was mixed in with the now dried-up crimson stains. Gunpowder too. And a smell he was all too familiar with now lingered in the air; it was the stench of sickness mixed with cheap alcohol.
He was a mess.
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or, A night of drinking ends horribly for Tubbo. But maybe things are not as bleak as they seem...
Series
- Part 18 of Clingytober 2025