dream smp oneshots and unfinished fics

drinks

tw/cw: verbal abuse

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Tubbo isn't exactly sure how he got into this mess.

It probably wasn't his fault -- he was sure his name would be following Tommy's in Schlatt's first course of action. After all, if he so hated L'Manburg's history, then why wouldn't he exile the person that worked so tirelessly to get them the materials needed to win?

But alas, Schlatt wasn't thinking like that. Perhaps he was only called up on that stage as an extra punch in the gut to Tommy, who had definitely been the rudest to Schlatt. Kicking him out apparently wasn't enough.

Oh, how Tubbo wishes he was Tommy right now.

Not that he would want to switch places. No, Tubbo wouldn't wish that even on his worst enemy, let alone his best and closest friend. The endless work hours with little time for food or rest in between, the constant hate-filled speech directed towards his closest comrades, the yelling, the laughing, the ever-present stench of alcohol that grows more pungent every time Schlatt grows near...

Tubbo wrinkles his nose, looking up from the stack of papers in front of him. It's almost like a warning signal for when Schlatt comes around...and it's projected by none other than Schlatt himself.

That small bit of humor found in the midst of his dreary circumstances makes him giggle, quietly and to himself.

"What the hell're you laughing about?"

Tubbo practically gives himself whiplash in turning around, only to be greeted with the intimidating sight of Mister President Jschlatt standing in the doorway to Tubbo's private office, a short, almost empty glass of some brown, definitely alcoholic drink in his hand. He leans against the doorframe, almost propping himself up, and Tubbo can immediately tell that he's drunk. That glass of whatever is most certainly not his first.

Tubbo resists the urge to roll his eyes. Some great ruler he is. But even though Schlatt is...heavily intoxicated, his red eyes are still sharp and piercing.

As if he's fully aware, just off the leash of common sense. It scares the younger boy. Just a little bit.

"N-Nothing, Schlatt. I was just, um, filling out the papers you asked for, see!" Tubbo moves slightly to the side to show the separated stacks of papers on his desk, sorted neatly into piles.

"Oh. Really?" Schlatt asks in an almost surprised tone, and Tubbo nods fervently. Schlatt straightens up, detaching himself from the wall with a slight stumble as he walks forwards, and Tubbo grips the back of his chair to stop his hands from trembling as he moves closer and closer. "And, pray tell, what is so funny about..." Schlatt leans around Tubbo to squint at the document sitting directly in front of him. "Enderpearl trade deals with the DreamSMP?"

"Um, n-nothing, Schlatt --"

"Didn't I tell you to stand up when speaking to me?"

Something in Schlatt's voice mixed with the glint in his unnervingly aware eyes makes Tubbo almost trip over himself in standing, muttering along the lines of, "Yes, Schlatt, you did, Schlatt, sorry Schlatt."

In a matter of seconds, Tubbo is stood only a few feet away from his president, something that feels less and less of an honor and more of a nightmare.

"As I was, uh, saying, there's nothing funny ab -"

Schlatt's glare dissolves Tubbo's speech into incoherent muttering in an instant. He swipes at his nose, sniffing, before putting his free hand on his hip and pacing around the room. The younger boy only watches with bated breath, terrified to make even the slightest of movements.