The Mansion (Tubbos Limbo)

Tubbos Limbo

The moment everything went black. That's when Tubbo knew.

A loud bang that was oh so familiar, ripping his life and soul right from his very body. He didn't remember how it happened.

All he remembered was the feeling after. The feeling of having your entire being ripped from your own flesh and bones, and then waking up somewhere that is hardly familiar to you anymore.

The mansion. The cold and empty walls, the light barely shining through the window, the candles that bring no warmth to this dreary afterlife.

Nothing else to be heard. Just his own footsteps, and the occasional creak of the house as he opened an old door.

Rooms were filled with furniture, decorations, and valuable possessions. Yet they still felt empty.

It was an endless hallway, really. The further he went, the longer it got. Repeating rooms, long carpets, paintings that had been seen a thousand times before. Why was Tubbo unlucky enough for this to be his limbo?

He did everything he could. He helped Tommy, Wilbur, Ranboo, everyone. He followed his duties and he chased his purpose. A purpose that was long forgotten ever since his home was destroyed.

...

What was his home?

Was Lmanberg just something for him to distract himself with? Something to keep him from all of the pain, ever since the festival?

The festival.

Tubbo remembers that day vividly. The one day he wishes he could forget. The day he lost his identity. The day he became everyone but himself.

He touched his scar, exhaling a shaky breath and continuing to walk.

Why did he have to be punished like this? What did ever do to deserve to live with his pain for the rest of his time in this hell hole. Why couldn't he forget?

Why couldn't he just forget everything? Why couldn't he be like Ranboo, blessed with such ignorance.

That's unfair. Ranboo didn't choose to forget anything.

Tubbo knows that. He knows that he shouldn't wish to be like Ranboo. He's suffered his entire life because he doesn't remember.

But Tubbo has suffered his entire life because he DOES remember. He remembers all the pain, all of the banging noises, all of the slurred speech. He was forced to live with the memory of his past friend killing him.

He was never happy. Lmanberg was the time that he could have fun with his friends, finally calm and at peace. But it was ruined. Sometimes he questions if he was even happy then.

Were all of his projects just a distraction? Did he ever really care about them? Were they just to keep him from looking in the mirror every two seconds?

A mirror.

He needs a mirror.

So he starts running. He starts running towards the nearest room with any reflective surface. He has to see himself.

He doesn't know why. He always hated looking at himself when he was alive, but he always had the urge to. And now was no different.

He arrived outside of a room. His room. The room he shared with his husband. He went inside.

Tubbo looked around. It was so... plain. There was the bed, the dresser, the desk, and the mirror...

He wasted no time. He immediately went to the mirror and looked at himself.

There it was. The scar. The mark that would forever keep him bound to all of the hatred in his heart. To all of the pain and suffering he had felt.

He reached up to his face, running his hand across it. It didn't feel like him. It felt like every person he had ever fought before.

Dream, Schlatt, Techno. Maybe even Tommy.

Maybe it's wrong to think that this scar could ever resemble Tommy. His best friend, his partner in crime. But he couldn't help it.

He had always followed Tommy. He treated him like he was his leader, like nothing could separate them. As long as he stayed in line and listened to what Tommy said, he would have a friend for life.

But he couldn't anymore. Not when Tommy went behind his back. He thought about exiling Tommy every night. He was overwhelmed with guilt and regret, but he had no choice.

Dream threatened him. Dream was going to destroy Lmanberg. Dream was going to destroy his project. Tubbo couldn't let another distraction be taken away from him.

He left the room. He couldn't look at himself anymore. It's stupid. He was the one who wanted to see the scar, but he couldn't even stand it for more than a minute.

Maybe he was weak. Maybe he was pathetic. Too caught up in the past to do anything about his future.

He never was one to focus on the future. He always wanted to stay absorbed in the present, in what he was doing at the moment. But, he couldn't do that.

He was always thinking of those nights. Those countless nights where he would relive all of the explosions, all of the deaths, all of the wars.

The nights he would dream about everything that had happened to him, and wake up crying and questioning the universe. Why him? Why did he deserve any of that?

Did he not follow orders correctly? What did he do wrong? He tried his best, he really did. He did everything to make it all stop, but it kept crashing at him like a wave.

His problems were never acknowledged. He was always put off, as if he didn't matter to anyone. There was much more that was important than him. Lmanberg, Tommy, the discs.

Tommy had even said it himself. After that day, he would constantly apologize, saying he didn't mean it. Tubbo knew he was lying.

If the discs didn't mean more than Tubbo, then why had they been fighting their entire lives for them. Only to gain them back and realize they didn't matter.

Tommy wanted everything until he had it. Tubbo knew that. Tubbo knew Tommy. He knew that Tommy was only lying when he said Tubbo was a leader. People say stupid things when they think they're about to die.

Tubbo probably said stupid things when he was about to die. He probably told everyone he would miss them. Maybe he thought it was true at the time, but now that he was dead, he couldn't find it in himself to miss anyone.

All he could do now was think about his life, think about what he did wrong. And it made him realize, maybe people weren't his friend. Maybe they didn't care about him as much as he thought they did.

Maybe Ranboo never loved Tubbo. Maybe he really did only marry him for tax purposes, and it was just too late to get out.

Maybe Michael never wanted to be saved from the nether. Maybe if Tubbo left him there, then he would be happier.

What happened to Michael? Would Ranboo be able to take care of him on his own? Was Michael dead as well?

Tubbo didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore. He was left here to question everything that was happening in everyone's life right now. He didn't know who was dead, who was alive. Who was sad, who was happy.

He didn't know if there were still any wars. He didn't know if Dream escaped prison. He didn't know if anyone missed him.

But if he doesn't know, then it can't hurt him. He won't be able to know any of the bad stuff, and that's what he's always wanted.

So maybe this isn't so bad.

Maybe he's ok with traveling this empty home for a while, just waiting for anyone else to arrive.