: several references to past abuse/manipulation, exile, war, and deaths; blood, actual graphic death by being beat by a potato, implied injuries/scars; excessive cursing; basically the dream smp and its lore itself

(honestly this is just a recap of tommy's 3rd canon death, just skip to the end where it says "and the server glitches" if you'd like, because that's where things change

this is also like a preview to how i write aha)

if there's anything else, please comment!

===

, Tommy never intended to lash out at Dream. Well, not yet, at least.

It's not entirely his fault! It's just. The cell -- Pandora's Vault -- was too quiet. Too stuffy, bland, hot, and so many other things. Obsidian blocks and their amethyst ravines aren't as fun to count when he keeps losing count at around five-hundred. The crackles and fizzles of lava can only fill so much of the silence, an overwhelming, oppressive thing that Tommy had found to immediately hate. (It reminds him of Dream and exile too much, the man in question only making his problem worse by being there.) Instead, the blond had tried to keep ranting about whatever he could, but he couldn't keep that up forever, even with the occasional comment from Dream. It was so bloody warm, too, being so close to the lava in a small space, but Tommy didn't care; as long as Dream was far away from him Tommy would be fine.

He'd have to be. He can't show weakness now, not when Dream had manipulated him so easily back then.

Looking back on it, the silence was probably what started to bundle his emotions and stress into a bomb, what made him reckless and stupid. When Dream had started talking about a "revive book" and what it entailed, Tommy wanted to stop thinking about it, because surely Dream didn't have that much power, right? Because despite Dream being an admin, despite Dream being an equal to Techno in power, he wasn't... Dream wasn't allowed to truly play God, was he?

Tommy wanted to stop thinking about it. The silence didn't help.

And after what Tommy could only assume was a few days -- or maybe weeks? Months? Years? Fuck, he didn't know and he never would -- the nightmares came back. Of the final control room despite having forgiven Eret; of the festival and fireworks and Tubbo and Pogtopia, Techno and his Withers as he laughed and laughed, war and colors and smoke and ignited trinitrotoluene, crimson leaking down his palms as he watched Phil kill Wilbur who died with a smile and then exile and Ghostbur and how he grew attached to his own abuser and--

Yeah.

(If Dream weren't there, always watching, waiting for something in the silence of the cell after Tommy can't talk anymore, then maybe Tommy wouldn't have minded as much.)

Either way, at least one of those problems had led him to snapping. Really, both he and Dream should've expected it. Tommy's always been a "problem child." Running off into danger when he was younger, constantly asking Techno to spar, causing the whole disc war and most, if not all of the other main incidents in the SMP. But Tommy knows that he really shouldn't have kept pushing Dream's buttons, more and more until the man fell over the edge. He knows the consequences first-hand -- the scars on his skin are enough to prove that.

Yet he did so anyway. Otherwise, he might've started to go insane.

"I'll get out eventually," Dream had begun, his voice slightly hoarse and muffled as he chews on a potato. He and Tommy were talking, standing in the middle of the cell. As much as Tommy would like to stay away from Dream forever, he had to put up a brave front and talk some day. "Because either you'll let me out or.. people will be dead. And that's the thing because yeah, you put me in here because you want me to --"

Once again, more often than not, Tommy hadn't thought when he spoke. "I'm in -- no, no, no, shut up. Shut up." He ran a hand through his blond hair, looking up at the glowstone placed in the top corner of the cell. "I know why I'm in here. This is.. this isn't worse than exile." He dryly laughs, "This isn't worse than the exile, because the thing is. For the exile, I thought you had all the power -- I thought you were fucking dangling me like a fucking puppet, man. And even though in here it's small, and I'm claustrophobic, and I hate this..."

He lowers his voice and dares to stare into Dream's cold emerald eyes. "Here's the thing, Dream. Here's the thing that I know."

"The revive book, Dream. It's not real, is it."

Dream opens his mouth to speak, but Tommy keeps pushing. "Because all you do, all you do that I --"

"Tommy --"

"Shut the fuck up! Look, what I remember from exile is that all you do is lie to me." At this point, Tommy can tell that Dream's enraged. He blocks a hit from the man, albeit slower and weaker than usual. "And then you unveil this big thing in the finale that all the fucking --"

Tommy takes a breath. "When we go down into your pit, here's what you tell me. You tell me that 'oh! Oh! It was me who reorganized your beach party, it was me in the blue of the community house!' You are a clinical manipulator -- a psychopath, if you will. So I know. This revive book that you keep fucking going on about, this is your little card that Jschlatt gave you. Jschlatt was just a drunk fucking madman, alright? He wasn't just some guy that had access to this 'omnipotent revive book!' Fuck off, man. You're lying."

Dream speaks, irritation barely concealed, "You're -- you're calling me a liar, when I'm not lying."

"You're lying! You're fucking --"

"Why else would I --"

"Why would Schlatt have a book about -- he was banned for two weeks, why would that give him power to fucking -- that doesn't make any sense, man!" Tommy pulls on his hair, a habit he picked up from Wilbur in Pogtopia, "You're just lying, aren't you? It doesn't make sense, that you'd have this revive book; like, it doesn't add up, alright? I don't -- I genuinely think you're just lying again."

Dream started again, "Tommy, give me some time! I'm not lying, you're being disrespectful and annoying, you're being a little bitch," that's emphasized with a crack! As Dream grips a new potato like a weapon and brings it down, and fuck, okay, in all of his mishaps and mistakes Tommy thinks this is the worst --

"You talk to me," another strike -- the world blurs, "and you accuse me of things," another strike -- the taste 0f iron fills his mouth, "and you're calling me a liar and being manipulative," and okay, okay, Tommy needed to placate him, now.

"Look," Tommy said, holding his hands up in a surrender as he spits blood out to the side, "stop fucking punching me -- hand me some potatoes, please." Anything to rid the taste of blood.

"No, I'm not gonna give you any potatoes." Dream moved forwards, looking at Tommy in his eyes, emerald green to sapphire blue. "I'm not lying. Jschlatt gave me a revive book. He gave me a revive book before he died. Because... he said --"

"Well revive him, then! Revive him right now!"

"...That's not how it works, Tommy."

"Revive Schlatt, right now. He'll log on right here, and --"

"Tommy! I'm not lying! Why would I be lying about that?!"

Silence. If Sam had taken Dream's mask, then maybe Tommy would've had a better read on him.

(Maybe, he could've prevented what happened next.)

Dream leans back, putting on a careless demeanor despite having tense shoulders. (First strike.) "What, you think I'd want to save my own skin or something, to try and --"

"Exactly that!" Tommy snaps back, "You're a liar. You're a liar and really, through that Netherite armor and skin and I look at you, and you know what I see? I see a sad, little man, who's insecure about the fact that this server has gotten so far ahead of him, and his only little glimpse of power in this world is gone."

Dream stays silent. (Second strike.)

"I see an insecure man," Tommy repeats, "a sad little man, alright. So fuck off."

"Tommy," Dream says, "your life is literally in my hands. Does that piss you off; does that make you mad; does that make you so mad, that I --"

"My life's not in your hands, Dream. Dream, I know that you're not gonna do fucking shit to me!"

"I might as well be a god, Tommy! You can't kill me, and I can kill you!"

"You might as well be -- do you not hear yourself?!" Tommy repeats, "Do you not hear yourself?! You're fucking up your own arse, you self-obsessed --" Tommy takes a breath and makes his fingers pick at a scab on his arm. "Dream."

Before he can say anything, Dream leans in, the glint of his eyes visible through his mask a touch too insane, "What does that mean? If you can't kill me, does that make me some kind of god? Does that make --"

Tommy swallows his fear. "That just makes me stronger than you, shut the fuck up -- no, Dream." He keeps talking even as Dream bashes the potato he still has into him again, the exterior stained in Tommy's blood, channeling his pain into words. "I could kill you right now, if I wanted to."

The world seems to hold its breath. And then, Dream agrees.

"Okay," he says. Nonchalant. Casual. (Third strike.) "But you won't."

Tommy takes a gamble, and thinks the response is victory. "You know why I won't? I won't, because I'm leaving this prison, and --"

(He's out.)

Dream strikes. He topples Tommy down with surprising strength, his head banging the obsidian flooring and sounding with an echo and oh, was the man just waiting to do this? And before he can speak, before he can scream, there's another hit. Again, again, again, on his chest and then his arm, and all Tommy can see is stars. "Stop it!" He's crying, roaring as tears run down his face and mix with blood. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" In one moment of clarity onto the blurred next, Dream kneels above him, and one green eye glows underneath the pinpricks of his smiling mask. The lava creates a sunset glow around him; Tommy thinks it makes him look like the devil.

The barrage stops. And for a moment, the blond thinks. Even if Dream does stop for now, Tommy doubts he'll survive for more than an hour -- after all, there's no bandages nor potions here, and he can feel the blood in his throat. A punctured lung and a few broken bones, at least.

He'll die either way.

Might as well go out on his own terms, even if his sworn enemy's the one killing him.

So, Tommy says, "Look at me, right now." Dream does.

"I don't think this revive book is real. Schlatt's fucking dead, I've seen his grave, and it's real, his corpse is there. But no matter what -- if I die, if I'm revived and get out, if you stop here and let me bleed to death -- you'll be stuck here forever."

He closes his eyes, feels blood in his mouth and a potato slam onto his eye,

and the server glitches.

It's a subtle thing, yet its something felt throughout the entire world. A shock of electricity, the vibration of tectonic plates breaking away, animals moving as if they were an animation and most of the frames were taken for a minute or two at worst. Lights flicker; some forget something as others remember. In the void he floats in, Tommy can hear the writhing screams of Endermen who know something is wrong, so close yet so far.

Tommy, in the midst of life and death, feels it the most despite barely being conscious.

It feels like getting stuck mid-teleport. It feels like being shook around in a jar. It feels like a sensation overload. It feels like dying and respawning at the same time.

(If he could open his eyes, Tommy would see what could've been. Yellow roses adorning a face too pale in the midst of war. A mixture of hybrids livings together as one, a world abandoned. A timer that spells the inevitable end of a server. Videos, media, and the rise to fame.)

There are hands, soft and warm, cradling Tommy's whole being. Footsteps tap on something akin to glass, a soothing beat that calms the blond. He's shaking, a belated realization that he doesn't know the reason for.

One, two, three, four, pause.

"You're going to be okay, Tommy."

One, two, three, four, pause.

"You're going to be okay."

One, two, three, four, pause.

A shift, and Tommy feels as if he's passed through a cold curtain. He shudders.

"Shh, shh," the voice soothes, "We're — you're almost there." In a lower tone, "I'll kill Dream, that power-abusing bastard."

One, two, three, four, pause.

"You'll be okay. Far, far away from that hellhole."

One, two, three, four, pause.

"You're lucky I'm fond of you. I'm gonna be in so much deep shit because of this."

One, two, three, four, pause.

"...You can't see me." It's not a question. "That's fine."

Ten drops of a liquid drench his skin, yet Tommy himself isn't wet. It burns in his right socket, the vision of gold, gold, gold burning underneath his eyelids. A finger runs over his head.

"Goodbye."

He drifts.

Tommy opens an eye to white clouds and a blue sky.

===

yo !!!! hey! here!

thank you for selecting,, whatever this is.

i know this is like. a really random crossover, but i'm kinda all into rare crossovers n stuff atm, and i just read a really good bnha x dsmp fic on ao3 so. so i couldn't just not write something like this because my brain will pester me abt it until i do

with that being said! this is the first thing i've. really posted! first fic??? idk, n e way. im new to writing and stuff!!! comments that'll help me are appreciated!!!

please please please please!!!! go check out the person whose fic really really inspired me to make this ahaha ,,,,

it's called From a dirty crime boy to a hero by yeet3ms !!!!! link here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30940145

it's wilbur-centric and right after the festival (i think that's the arc's name? the one where wilbur blows everything up n then dies by giving a sword to philza), an although the pacing's a bit fast imo, it's good !!!!!

i also gotta go over the usual disclaimer stuff, i think, so

1. any and all art featured in this story is mine!! even the cover, which i'm really proud of because it pulled me put of artblock for a few! 'm sad it's low quality on wattpad, though 😔 (if yall want i can post it in this chapter here!)

2. the dsmp characters involved dont belong to me!!! as well as the bnha characters !!! ofc, the former belongs to their respective content creators, and the latter belongs to kohei horikoshi! if any of the ccs or kohei himself want me to take this down, for whatever that reason is, i will do it immediately :))

3. im a newbie writer, as stated previously!! meaning, ion have a beta, and plotholes will probably be frequent because i am dumb, and writing action isnt my strong suit, and grammar, and i Kind Of Regret Writing This, but i'm too far in to get out now so!

also, trauma, panic attacks and the like will prolly be used in this story. triggers will be shown at the top of each chapter, like this one. though, if i do misrepresent or misinterpret one, especially trauma and the recovery from said trauma because , please let me know! please do! please! i'd feel really bad if i didn't correct that asap!

4. sporadic. updates.

please i beg of you dont comment things like "when's the next update" or "please update!!" please istg that makes me Lose Motivation to write, it's already fluctuating because my motivation changes like 24/7 so before it completely dies out i want to write as much as i can!!! (,,,and i may have to sort some plot things out because Hey i did this on Impulse as per usual!!!)

,,, i think that's it!

thank you for reading all of this! aha