Chapter Text
The air was so thick that it was suffocating. Tommy had been stuck in this stupid cell for almost a week now, and his cell mate's mere presence was anything but enjoyable. Tommy couldn’t even look at Dream’s cracked mask without feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. He didn’t show any fear though, he was a big man after all! And Sam! Sam would be here soon to get him out and take him home! But Sam didn’t come. Then, during an argument, Dream snapped, and in his rage he beat Tommy to death. The last thing Tommy saw as his vision faded out was Dream's smile hovering over him.
He woke up… He… woke up? He was dead wasn’t he? Dream had killed him, so how… how was he awake then? And also, where was he? After a moment of internal conflict, Tommy decided to figure out the answer to the only question he could right now: where was he? He sat up from where he had been lying on the forest floor and looked around. He was in a spruce forest and the ground around him was covered in ash. Suddenly, it came to his attention that he had wings on his back. They were an orange-reddish color like flames, and they were warm like them too. After he had come to terms with this new feature (which took a minute), he stood up. The first thing he noticed was that he was startlingly short and also small.
Holy shit! I’m an actual child! Oh Prime! Tubbo and Ranboo are gonna make fun of me. If- if I ever see them again.
He started to walk around and recognized the area he was in. He was at spawn! Unfortunately, he had no idea where anything was, and he didn’t really want anyone to see him in this state. He REALLY wanted to figure out how to get back to his normal self before he saw anyone. Tommy checked his pocket for his communicator and thankfully found it. When he opened it though, he saw to his dismay that all his contacts had been wiped. Looking through the global chat, he was able to find when he died, and he saw a range of reactions to Sam breaking the news. Meeting people was going to be fucking awkward. He looked up and saw that night would fall soon and realized that he had nothing with him except some simple clothing (NOT his signature baseball tee unfortunately ) and his communicator. He was unarmed and defenseless, a perfect target for the creatures of the night.
Fuck. I should probably do something about that.
He decided that shelter would come first and he could think things over later. With a resigned look, he went to go punch a tree.