Proud - DreamSMP

Chapter 10 - Babirusa

Gore warning ahead!! Seriously like, if you can't handle gore, back up because I'm not joking around.

This chapter isn't exactly too relevant, so I'll leave a brief summary of what happened at the end if you don't feel like reading it.

Also, remember when I said this was gonna be a really self, indulgent fic? Well,,, this is what I meant--

Tubbo stood hovering over the sink, his head hanging over the basin.
After what happened last night there was a terrible feeling in his chest, and his stomach ached and groaned with pure, unfiltered disgust and... shame.

Tubbo gazed at his reflection, glaring at what was a terrifyingly noticeable set of horns that sat on his forehead.

For the past few weeks he'd been covering them with his hair, the horns simply small bumps on his head.
But his paranoia overtook him, and so he began ostracizing himself more and more in the confines of his home in fear of them growing too large, too much of a problem... He became too overtaken by shame to look anybody in the eyes with these things on his head.

He just wanted to be alone- no, no he needed to be alone.
Ever since the festival he just needed a moment of alone time, but every time he thought he'd get a moment of peace, he was roped into some big event.
Even as president he can't catch a break... He just wants a break.

So here Tubbo was, clutching the ceramic sink, letting his knuckles turn white as he tried to regulate his breathing. He looked a mess, his hair hanging over his sunken in eyes as his body trembled.

Down came a splitting headache, and his fist came flying towards the mirror, shattering the glass and digging into his knuckles. His heart thumped and thumped in his chest, his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. The glass dug into his fingers, poking out in tiny splinters.

And the worst thing was that it didn't even hurt. The glass didn't hurt one bit. Tubbo didn't know why, his hand was just stabbed dozens of times by small pieces of mirror, surely it would have at least stung. But it didn't hurt.

Subconsciously he ran his fingers over his scarred and burnt face, a sinking feeling of realization in his stomach as his hand travelled over the irregular bumps in his skin.

To be fair, it wasn't a surprise that it didn't hurt. Small things like glass to the knuckles stop hurting as much after a firework hits you in the face.

Then another realization hit him, as he looked into the frayed and split off image of himself in the glass, his disgusted and pained eyes staring back into themselves; he looked an awful lot like Schlatt.

That thought hit him like a brick... He hadn't really thought about it before- but the messy hair, the tired eyes, the horns...

No. No, no no. Hell no.

He was being irrational, getting too deep in his own head. The horns meant nothing. This wasn't some story, he wasn't some main character getting some shitty, symbolic kick in the face from the universe.
They were just... horns.

He ran his still bloodied, glass covered hand over the horns, jerking his own head away as his headache worsened.
He didn't know how big these were going to grow... or what shape

He remembered something Phil taugh him as a kid, about this pig. He couldn't remember the name of it, but he remembered one key detail about it that always stood out to him.
The older the pig got, the longer it's tusks became, eventually piercing through the snout, and then the skull.
There's no way to stop the growth, it's inevitable that the tusks will stab the pig in the skull, and kill it.

Unless, you remove the problem altogether.

Unless you remove the teeth.

Tubbo grabbed a large shard of glass off the floor, checking to see how tough it was before poking the skin around the horn, finding it to be tender.

This would work. Surely.

He took a deep breath, poking the skin with the glass. He let out a sob, only muffled by his grit teeth and closed mouth.

He could do this, he just had to remove the problem. It was fine. He was fine.

He wedged the glass between the skin and horn, his sobs becoming louder as he dug around for a place to try and pry the horn off. The horn was easily broken, from what Tubbo could tell.

His sobs filled the room, his teeth grit tightly as he eventually managed to pry one off, pieces of horn and glass splaying around the room as blood waterfalled down his face.

A wail of pain echoed through the house, Tubbo crumpling to the floor as he clutched his head. "Fuck! Fuck- fuckfuck!"

His breathing quickened in pace, his heart beat completely overtaking his hearing as a lump formed in his throat. He couldn't think straight, his mouth dry as his own tears mixed with his blood.

He just... He just needed to get the other one.

He desperately fished for his trusty piece of glass, slowly becoming more distressed the longer and longer he searched.

He'd just have to snap it off then...

He took his shaky hand, wrapping his fingers around the horn and taking a deep breath through his quick paced breathing.

"Three... Two... One-" A horrible crunching sound was heard through the room, even more pieces of horn spreading around the room as Tubbo lay there, screaming and begging for it to just- stop. He wanted it to stop- please please

"Fuck, fuck!" Tubbo couldn't see straight any more. His vision was blurred, but he wasn't sure if it was his tears or his body just- shutting down.

He crumpled down to the floor completely, curling into himself. He was on the verge of being sick, his heart beat slowing as his eyes slowly drooped shut. He felt his breathing become calmer.

He just needed to rest for a second- just a second.

TTDR; Tubbo pried his horns (which he'd been keeping secret) out after thinking he may look a little more like Schlatt than he'd like.

Yes i know i didn't exactly foreshadow the horns existence, but I'm just tryna move the plot along to where I need it to be man ksjsk. I'm running outta creative juice--

And I'm sorry if this chapter is a little disappointing, I've never written gore before so --