Archive of Our Own ^beta

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This is NOT a chapter. This will be the content warning so I don’t have to put it every chapter. There with be mentions of suicidal thoughts, suicide, graphic violence, amputation, abuse, child abuse, dehumanization, manipulation, alcohol, alcoholism, eating disorders (?), self harm, and blood/gore.

If any of this makes you uncomfortable then please don’t read this, I don’t want to trigger anyone.

The formatting might be wonky as I’m doing this on my phone.

There will be no consistent updates, but I’ll do it when motivated and have time.

See you in the next chapter :)

Chapter Text

It was warm. Too warm. The soft sounds of the lava below moving being the only sound that rings in his ears. Tommy had never been the type to like the heat of the nether, but then again, most people don’t. It’s hot. The heat almost brings tears to his eyes. It’s not warm like hot he old farmhouse his family lived in. It’s not warm like Tubbo’s hugs. It’s not warm like toast, one of his favorite things for breakfast. Toast always goes best with a cold glass of milk. It balances it old. Warm and cold. But he only felt hot. He wondered if it would hurt, to fall into the boiling lava below. Would it?

No one would miss him. It’s obvious because no one has ever bothered to visit him in exile. No one but Dream. His only friend. He had been there. Would he be sad? Would he grieve? Maybe. He didn’t even know if his only friend would care about him if he died. Do friends hurt each other? No, but Tommy had deserved it! He wouldn’t listen to Dream! He hid things from his only friend! And friends don’t hide things from each other! A voice in the back of his mind whispered that’s not what friends did.

Dream had given him what he deserved. Punishment. But if he was good Dream would stay longer! And sometime even give him food! The thought of food makes his stomach turn. Although he was skinny, his stomach had no ache for food. Although, he wondered why Dream did it. Taking something he didn’t even know could be taken away from him. His back still aches from the thought of it. He could still feel the foot on his back and the sound of the axe raising in the air before swinging down. He could still fell the pain.

Tommy shook his head. Now is not the time to think about that. He looked down and held his compass tight. The one thing linking him to Tubbo. He debated on getting rid of it but could find it in himself to do so. Why did he still care about people that hated him. Tubbo exiled him. Tubbo never came to visit him. Neither did his family. Phil never showed up. His own father never came to keep him company. And Technoblade only came to mock him and he never saw him after that. No one else from the smp ever came to visit. Ranboo had stopped visiting and ghostbur could only do so much. So why did he still care about people that didn’t care for him?

He would never get to bake with Niki again. He would never get to hang out with Fundy again. He would never be able to fly with Phil again, even if he really wanted to. Tommy ignores the pain in his back. He wanted to. He wanted to jump into the lavas that practically calls his name. He wants to dive in and never look back. But he was scared. The big Tommyinnit was scared. Scared of pain. He didn’t want his death to be painful. He chuckled bitterly in realization.

He was milquetoast. He was timid. He was feeble. He was the opposite of the loud and hyper child he used to be. When did he become milquetoast? He couldn’t be bother to remember anymore. It hurt his head. He scratched at his arm in frustration until he could feel the familiar warmth of red dripping down his arm. He had to punish himself since Dream wasn’t here to do so? But what did he do wrong and soft voice asked him once more.

“I don’t know!!” He screamed. He huffed and ran a hand through his hair. It had gotten a bit longer during exile. He made a sound between a laugh and a sob. What was wrong with him? He started to laugh and sob even more. Was he broken? Like a record stuck on repeat. Or a toy that no one wanted to play with anymore. What was wrong with him?! Why was he like this?! Why was he so- so not him! It made him mad. But wasn’t he always mad at this point? No, the voice whispered, just broken. He gripped and pulled at his hair, unable to accept that’s that what he was. A broken child. Broken by war and betrayal. But he could be fixed! Dream could fix him! Dream, his friend. Dream, his savior. He ignored how he flinched at just the thought of Dream being mad. Of Dream easing his hand in a move to strike.

He deserved it. The tiny voice said otherwise. It made him feel crazy. Like there was an angle and devil sitting on either shoulder whispering into his ears. One telling the hard truth and the other soft lies. He didn’t know which was which. It felt like his kind wouldn’t even comprehend the truth, whatever it was. He didn’t know if Dream was his friend. And it made him feel guilty. Dream had done so much for him, and his mind was fighting itself. One side saying Dream was his friend and the other screaming the opposite.

He shuddered out a sigh and leaned forward. Down, down, down. It felt like slow motion. And just for a moment, it felt like he could fly again. But as soon as he blinked, his wings were once again ripped away from him as he plummeted down into the lava. It was hot. Not warm like toast, his favorite breakfast food. It always went best with a cold glass of milk. It balanced it out. But there was no cold waiting for him. So he let go and burned.

••••

The horned man let out a sigh. Bored. He was bored out of his mind. Of course, he could play cards, but Mexican Dream would only give him a headache. It was weird. It was only him and Mexican Dream, wherever he went off to. Wilbur was nowhere to be seen. And it was quite odd. There would typically be a fight between Mexican Dream and Wilbur by now. So it was oddly quiet. He was snapped out of his thoughts when the train stopped. The doors opened and there he stood.

Schlatt felt sick. Now, he wasn’t the best person in the world. He did bad things when he was alive, although he liked to think he changed. That he had to to think since he died and to come to terms with it all. Blood didn’t make Schlatt feel sick, but this time it did. There in front of him was Tommy. Blood stained his face and there was bruise all over his body, painting his skin like one would paint a canvas. Scars litter his body but most notably, the one on his face, on his nose, close to his right eye. But what made him want to burn was not what was there, but what wasn’t. There was a lack of large wings coming from his back. The red wings that faded into orange and then into gold were gone.

The sunset wings that fit his personality were gone. And it made him sick to his stomach. Was there some kind of accident? Or- or did someone-? He didn’t want to think about it.

“Tommy?”

Tommy stiffened. He was face to face with Schlatt. The first to exiled him. Instead of the suit he was grown used to seeing him wear was a blue sweater and dark pants. He looked a lot less pale than he did while he was alive. More healthy. He slowly limped into the train and stood, not sure what to do. What was there to do? Sit down next to Schlatt and ask him how the afterlife was? Old Tommy would have, but he’s gone. He’s milquetoast now.

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“Um… hi..” Tommy croaked out. It was all so weird. He felt numb and tingly at the same time. Like he was sore from running a marathon but never ran his entire life. He could see the wounds on his body, but he couldn’t fell them. He remembers the pain, and yet it’s so hard to remember what it felt like now. He clenched and unclenched his hands nervously. His eyes looking left to right but never more than a second at the man in front of him. He just couldn’t. He didn’t want to be punished. Could you feel pain the the afterlife? He couldn’t fell his wounds but could he still be hurt and gain new ones? And if he could, what would Schlatt do to him? He could be stuck with him for who knows how long. Forever? Just the thought of it made him shiver.

“Oh my god? Tommy? What the hell happened?” Schlatt questioned him. Was he mad? Mad at him? His breath started to pick up. Was he going to get punished?

“You look like shit! What the fuck happened?”

“I-I, um…” Tommy stuttered on his words, not k owing how to answer. Schlatt walked up to him and raised his hand. Tommy immediately flinched. He lunged backwards and curled into himself, arms in a defensive position.

“I’m s-sorry!! Pl-please don’t hurt me!! I-I promise to be g-good!! Just please don’t hurt me!!” He babbled helplessly. It felt like he couldn’t breath as the tears he’s been desperately holding back began to betray him and fall down his face. He couldn’t do this. Not again. He didn’t want to be hurt again. He couldn’t handle it.

•••••

Schlatt didn’t know what to do. He had never been the best with kids, despite raising one, not that well though. He was going to put a hand on his shoulder for some kind of comfort, but he had sent the boy into a panic instead. What the hell happened when he died? Who did this to make Tommy react like this? He felt anger bubble into his chest. Despite not knowing Tommy all the well, he was a kid. And kids should not be put through this. It made him want to hunt down whoever did this to him. But now was not the time for anger. Right now he had to help Tommy, even if he didn’t know how.

He crouched down to his level and places an awkward hand on his knee.

“Shit kid, are you alright-“ before he could even finish asking if he was fine, it felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. Shit, he hated this part. Whenever someone died and entered the train, you could access the memories of when they were alive. And now he was sucked into the past. It was all fine and dandy, until it wasn’t. He knew everything up until Wilbur had died, and then it went to shit, more than it had before. What made him sick was exile. Watching Dream manipulating and gaslighting him. Hurting him.

Then it happened. Tommy had disobeyed Dream by not putting his stuff in the hole. And Dream was not at all happy. He beat him until he couldn’t get up, mocking him. Dream then put his foot onto Tommy’s back and said those haunting words.

“I’ve been nice Tommy, but you can never listen, can you? I’m your friend, and yet you don’t listen. And now you have to be punished. You made me do this.” Dream lifted an axe over his head and dung down. Tommy’s blood curdling scream made even nature become silent. He lifted it again and slammed back down, and the sickening crack of a bone was heard.

“One down, one to go.” He repeated the process as Tommy scream and sobbed, begging him not to. Begging him to stop. Making promises to behave and listen to him. But his pleads went unheard as Dream hacked off the other wing. Schlatt could look anymore. He would throw up if he could. He was in a daze for the rest of the memories, not even Tommy jumping into lava compared to the shattering screams now engraved into his mind.

When he blinked, he was back in the train with a trembling Tommy, begging not to be punished, to be hurt. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before gently cooing at him.

“Hey, Tommy? Can I touch you?” Schlatt asked. Tommy stilled for a second, trying to process what he said. Schlatt patiently for his answer. The blonde suddenly threw himself onto Schlatt, softly sobbing into his shoulder. After getting over the initial surprise, Schlatt hugged the teen close, whispering guidance into his ears. His breathing slowed and his sobs turned into soft crying and sniffles. Schlatt did not how how to deal the panicked adults, let alone children, but whatever he was doing, it seemed to be working. He rocked back and forth, rubbing soothing circles in Tommy’s back.

Schlatt, now knowing who did this to him, was barely keeping his rage contained. Sure, he was a bad person too, but again, he liked to think he changed, just a bit. And he wasn’t going to stop now. Now that he knew that green bastard did this, he was going to try his best to find a way to haunt the shit out of him til the day he dies. He would be there for Tommy. An anchor of sorts. He would try his dank hardest to help this boy heal. And it starts now, by being there for him. And if Schlatt found a way to come back to life, he knew who he would hunt down first.

•••••

Tommy didn’t know why he did this. He threw himself into Schlatt’s arms, desperate for some kind of comfort. He thought the man was going to push him away, instead, he wrapped his arms around him and whispered soft encouragements into his ears. How long had it been since he’s been this close with someone? Since someone had been this kind to him? He didn’t want to think about how kings it’s been. Tommy was sick of flinching away and pushing people away. He wanted comfort. REAL comfort. And he was finally getting it. After so long, he was getting it. He didn’t care that he was being cradled like a child, just let him a child. Just for a little while. As much as he liked being a big man, just let him have this. He let out a shuddering breath and melted even more into Schlatt’s conforming embrace.

He didn’t know Schlatt all that well, but we was willing to get to know him now. As much as one part of his mind screamed for him to push him away and to not trust anyone, he listens to the soft whispered in the back of his mind. The ones that told him he deserved to be comforted, to be held, to be loved. Maybe he should listen to them more often. This was nice, being held. His cry’s finally stopped and he felt tired. Crying had always made him tired. It made his eyes droopy and overhaul just plain exhausted. He let his body relax and nuzzled his face into Schlatt’s chest, seeking its warmth.

•••••

Schlatt was stuck in a tricky position. He wanted to pick up Tommy and lay him on the plush bed the train had, but didn’t want to wake him up. He had finally calmed down and seems to have drifted off. He sighed, trying to carefully pick him up. The teen whined in his slumber, reaching out for Schlatt. Holy fuck, what was this kid doing to him?

“I know bud, but I have to lay you down so you don’t ruin your back.” But Tommy only let out more soft whines. He walked him over to the bed and set him down. It seems that the trains ghostly magic started doing its work. Tommy’s injuries had either faded or turned into scars. His floated seemed to have also changed. It was something weird, but it just seemed to happen. He was now wearing an oversized white sweater with red sleeves and comfortable brown pants.

Schlatt’s breath hitched. There, on his back, were his wings. How did they come back? He knew that this train was stupidly weird but god, this is a while other level. He shuddered out a soho and began to get up only to be pulled down. Tommy whined and nuzzled himself into his chest. What the fuck? Why the hell was he feeling all soft inside? God, this was weird. He slid back under the covers was was immediately latched into. He let out a soft smiled before finally fighting off into his own slumber. He would deal with everything when they woke, but for now, just let this boy have some peace. Cause he sure as hell needs it.

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Technoblade was really a beacon in the dark for me. His content really kept me afloat during a dark time where my mental health plummeted and it was always something to look forward to. And while I did not know him personally, it still broke my heart to see someone who I admired pass away so soon. Fuck cancer. Cancer took away another person I cared about. Fuck. Cancer. I’ve been watching his content on repeat and I just feel like shit. Technoblade was such an amazing person. See you on the flip side man. I’m not abandoning this work, just need time to process. See y’all soon.

Edit: I am going to continue to write for techno in all the works I have already posted with him and in future works. I am not disconnecting anything. I do not believe that we should just erase him from works but this is not a jab at any other authors. If they don’t feel comfortable with it, they won’t write it. So please don’t bother anyone about that. While Alex is gone, Technoblade isn’t. I will continue to honor his memory and continue to write for him as his character. Have a good day <3

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Hey y’all, I’m sure most of you know what’s happened with Wilbur at this point. I’ve been having really mixed feelings, mostly because of my own experience with abusive people throughout my life. I have always seen the characters I write from the dsmp as different from the actual cc’s, and I will continue to do so. I will have disclaimers on this fic and any future dsmp/sbi fics (because I have like 10+ wips and still want to write for them) that I am writing these characters more as oc’s rather than real people. I know it’s been a long time since I’ve updated this, but I have been in the process of rewriting it. I’ve also been dealing with being in college full time, having two jobs, taking care of my mom after her surgery and my sister, and dealing with anxiety, depression, and a friend in rehab, so sorry for not updating! I WILL continue this fic and to write for the sbi, but please don’t pressure other authors to do so as not everyone can separate the cc’s and their characters. Please go support Shelby and send her some love!