Work Text:
tubbo was aware he wasn't like the others. he wasn't biologically phil's, like wilbur, he wasn't a family friend, like techno, and he wasn't officially adopted, like tommy.
he was just the boy phil found in a box, and kept around, not even bothering to make anything official.
tubbo was grateful for the man, really, but it got tiring when every time he tried to get closer with phil or techno, they treated him like some weird, distant cousin they were saddled with. even wilbur had something subtle against him, kind on the surface, but not yet reading him bedtime stories and tucking him in, smoothing back his hair and leaving a gentle kiss on his forehead as he did with tommy. oh, how tubbo ached for that kind of affection, the one that was right in front of him, yet so hard to reach.
tommy was the only one he had, and even then their interactions were stained by the boy crooning over how kind wilbur was, or fawning over phil and techno's battle skills.
but he stayed quiet, played the part of blissfully unaware tubbo, became what his family wanted him to be. he muted himself for the benefit of others, praying for the day when he'd be more than a sidekick, more than a pawn.
and then wilbur took them to start a nation with his son, joking that fundy had been born in l'manburg, even though they were still building it.
fundy was his closest friend for a while. they could bond over the mutual struggle of being overlooked by those that burned brighter than you.
but it all fell apart when eret and niki joined.
tubbo doesn't blame them. hell, he really, really liked the two. it's just, fundy connected with them so much better than he did tubbo.
the first war started not long after that.
sapnap and tommy had killed dream for laughs after he had tried to mediate some petty prank war. dream stole tommy's discs and hid them away. he wouldn't give them back and so tommy went looking for them.
it's strange how a child wanting his personal belongings back snowballed into the destruction of l'manburg.
tubbo didn't really care anymore. wilbur was dead, tommy was exiled and techno was retired. he was the only one left, out of the four children.
yet philza still didn't fucking notice him.
tubbo, for the first time in his life, allowed himself to be angry, under the guide of quackity. allowed himself to be pissed off that he was alone, and always had been.
what did he get in return for expressing his emotion? a hug, an apology, someone to say he was okay? that they loved him?
no, he got rubble, smoke and withers.
tubbo knew he was nothing more than a pawn, a side character, an annoyance. it was about time he accepted it, instead of trying to change what never could be rewritten.
somewhere, a father's intuition rang out. he ignored it, like he always did. his kids were fine.
(his kids were dead, insane and abused)
