Chapter Text
Chapter One: Accessories
Black.
All Tommy saw, as far as the eye could see, was black. Not even black, it was just...nothing. A suffocating nothingness that tore into his very being, exploded his eardrums, yet left him paralyzed and drowning in silence. And the others...others? Yes, the others, Mexican Dream, Schlatt, and...and Wilbur. They were there as well.
Sometimes they spoke to him or each other, sometimes they all sat in silence too, even though Tommy wished they would stop doing that. Anything but that. Even with Wilbur's terrifying ramblings or dumb solitaire games, or Schlatt's insistent snoring, or even Mexican Dream's ridiculous jokes, anything was better than that thunderous silence that always seemed to last too long.
Then, one day...night? One time, while listening to Wilbur speak about the smp and trying not to seem too freaked out, the whole conversation just tuned out, like a radio being turned down, and just like that, Tommy was plunged back into the frigid waters of empty nothing.
But this time, instead of just sitting and waiting like all the months before, he was tired of it, and in a fit of rage, started fighting the dark air, cursing at it and throwing empty fists at the void.
He was so tired of it, of feeling ripped apart by the sheer feeling of nothing around him, of Wilbur and his frightful state of mind, of Schlatt's snarky remarks and that god awful snoring of his, and of Mexican Dream's now worn out jokes. So he made noise himself, demanding to be brought back, even though he knew that was impossible.
Tommy always thought that in death he would be free, like a bird let out of a cage, but he was stupid and naive and wrong. And as he stared into the void with burning eyes, wishing to be free from his cage, the void stared back.
And gave in.
A rough hand suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt, and before he could even utter a noise of shock, he was pulled through...something. It felt like he was being dragged through a pit of tar with that unknown hand clasped around the collar of his shirt as his only way out.
The..tar, if he should even call it that, dragged at his very being, making him heavy and giving him the instinctual feeling that he needs to go back to that void. But he couldn't. So as his soul was dragged through this slough, he considered the thought that perhaps he was going somewhere else. Maybe hell. Maybe heaven. If those even existed outside of the void.
With a prick of curiosity about his coming destination, Tommy craned his neck to look behind him, searching for the being that was taking him somewhere. Unfortunately, what he was met with was a sharp slap to the face. Literally.
The blond recoiled, his eyes shut tight in pain from that sting in his cheek. Then a voice came to him. It called his name, but he couldn't bring himself to look in fear of being hit again. Firm hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him, and that was when Tommy could distinctly hear the sound of lava. Of that warm promise that he had stared at forever ago. Another rough shake to his body, and Tommy sucked in a breath...wait. A breath?
Tommy's eyes flew open as he inhaled deeply, gasping at the stale air as he sat up quickly. He practically choked on the sudden rush of life in his limbs. His head hurt, he had a throbbing eye, but he was back. Back and breathing, surrounded by noise and color and feelings and he was so happy he could cry so he looked up to examine his surroundings-
And froze.
Dream was kneeling beside him, an unsure look on his face, and Tommy would've laughed at how he looked if he wasn't paralyzed by the mere sight of him. His hands gripped his dirty shirt as the two stared at each other for a moment. Then Dream spoke to him.
"Tommy?" He asked, uncertainty in his voice. Tommy glanced around for a moment, "Yeah?" His voice felt ragged, like he had nails in his throat, and it hurt. He gingerly touched his throat to make sure nothing was there, and thankfully was met with only his own bare skin.
"You good?" Dream questioned, jarring Tommy from his thoughts. He nodded; his voice felt too raw to use right now.
Dream hummed in response, glancing behind him with a sort of interest in his eyes that Tommy couldn't pinpoint. The prisoner stood up abruptly and stretched his arms, a small smile on his face.
Tommy was confused about that smirk, and it only grew when the man spoke, "Glad I was able to bring you back with all your limbs, albeit a few extra. Definitely was not expecting that," Dream chuckled, "How you even got your hands on a pair of those is my question."
The blond narrowed his eyes at him. What was he talking about? Extra limbs? Tommy looked down at himself, searching for an extra arm or leg, but saw none.
He leaned forward to examine his dirty shoe, wondering if maybe he had another big toe, when something moved behind him, a tingling sensation running down into his shoulder blades and down his spine.
The boy froze. Nothing else was supposed to be in this god awful cell beside Dream and himself for now. Did another cat get in?
Tommy turned his head, twisting his back despite the sore protests of his muscles, to see the other animal that had somehow gotten in. Only he wasn't met with the big round eyes of a cat. Instead he faced monstrous appendages, covered in brilliant red and gold feathers.
The air left his lungs, and Tommy could've sworn he had died again and this was all a hallucination.
But at the sudden discovery, the wings recoiled, the feathers bristling. Tommy yelped in surprise, and the things pulled close to his body. Wide eyed, he looked over at Dream, who now had a hungry look in his bright green eyes.
"Those are some mighty pretty wings you got," he purred. The comment made Tommy feel sick. Dream used that same tone in exile, when he was about to destroy his stuff, and a lead ball formed in his gut as he eyed the man in silence.
With no response given to him, the man in orange shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms across his wide chest, "So how was it?" Dream questioned, tilting his head.
"How was what?" Tommy rasped, keeping a sharp eye on him in case the crazed man started for him.
Dream rolled his eyes, "Death of course," he said matter of factly. He said it like Tommy was supposed to know what he was talking about.
Death. He let that word roll around in his head. Then it came back to him. The argument. The pushing and shoving turning into flying fists. The book. A bloody nose. A sharp knuckle. A final cry. Then the everlasting darkness that encompassed him for months. Tommy let out a shaky breath and silently grabbed for the compass sitting against his chest, metal cold against his agitated fingers.
Dream fucking murdered him, and he had the audacity to ask him how it was. A rage that he thought had all but diminished bubbled back to life, quickly turning into a rolling boil.
His fist shook as he answered in a tone as icy as he could muster, "It was dark, and cold, and nothing. There was nothing."
Dream hummed in thought to the vague reply. While he thought, Tommy took the chance to examine the wings attached to his back. They were massive. At least 6 feet long, and rippling with strength and power hidden behind beautiful feathers that shimmered in the soft orange light.
He gently went to move one, extending the glorious wing a little so he could get a better look at it. How did he get these? He wasn't complaining of course, but it was going to take a bit to get used to them.
Tommy then began to think about what Tubbo would say. He would probably marvel at them, ask how he got them, or how long he had them, or get upset that he hid them from him for so long. And Tommy would laugh and make fun of how his face looked. And they would both be so happy to see each other.
Tommy smiled at the thought. As he brushed his fingers across the feathers that lined his wings, he didn't even notice Dream had begun watching him as he realized that he could get Phil to teach him how to fly, and then he could soar for hours on end without a care in the world.
But he would have to get out of here first before he can do all of that. A sour look came across his features as he realised, and he dropped his hand as he locked eyes with Dream, a fire burning in Tommy's eyes so intense it could challenge the wall of lava that kept them in this cell.
He was going to get out of here, lest he die again trying.
Then Dream stepped over to him, and that determination and anger were immediately blocked out by a cloud of fear and anxiety that threatened to choke him. He scooted away, his wings pulling close to his body as his eyes grew wide, clutching at the compass like a lifeline.
The prisoner crouched down beside the trembling now avian again, reaching a hand out and running it down the side of Tommy's wing. He shivered. His hand felt foreboding, and wrong, and just all in all bad. He pulled his wing closer to him, out from under Dream's hand, who looked at him with cold eyes.
"You know, I've always pondered about what it would be like if I had wings," Dream said softly, his eyes gazing downward as he fiddled with the cloth on his knee.
Tommy stared at him, sweat building on his brow as he had an awful feeling on where this was going. His blue eyes were boring holes into the side of Dream's head. If this was going where he thought it was, Tommy was probably going to have to fight tooth and nail this time.
Dream looked back up at the frightened boy, a crazed look in his unnaturally bright green eyes, "And since I brought you back to life, I think you owe me a little something."
Tommy almost laughed, "Owe you something? I don't owe you shit," he glared at the prisoner.
Dream's eyes only narrowed as he shifted, leaning closer to Tommy as his voice dropped to a threatening rumble, "You owe me. And I know how you can pay back my kindness," he smiled, a deranged look with how much shadow Dream was cast in.
Tommy's breath faltered, and before he could react, Dream's hand was wrapped around his throat, dragging him from the corner he had been huddling in. Absolute panic exploded in his mind as he frantically grabbed at Dream's hand, trying to get a good breath in between his estranged gasps.
He was roughly pushed to the hard floor, groaning from the sharp rocks digging into his hands and chin. He went to get up, but a knee went into the middle of his back as Dream pinned his head down. Tommy flailed uselessly under the man, trying everything to get free from under him.
"I want your wings Tommy. I think they'd make lovely accessories in here, don't you think?" Dream whispered in the panicked teen's ear.
His blood ran cold, and for a moment he had froze, his mind going a million miles a minute trying to figure out how to get free, but his brain had just shut down, and nothing was working. Then he felt a hand around the base of his right wing, the skin on fire from where Dream gripped it as he prepared to do the most terrible thing a person could do.
Tommy began screaming in a blind panic, begging Dream not to do it, to not take his wings, that he would do anything, but the man had already made up his mind.
When that didn't work, he started yelling for Sam, desperate that he would answer his cries this time. He wasn't going to survive his wings being torn from his back. He would die from blood loss, surely. Dream was going to kill him all over again and send him back to that desolate void and hang his Wings up like some grotesque artwork and he couldn't go back there he couldn't see Wilbur again he can't do it again.
"SAM PLEASE," Tommy cried, tears running down his face from fear.
And with that, Dream started pulling.