quietly_imploding
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If not for the more prominent hollowness of his cheeks, the sharpness of his bones, and the length of his hair, Dream might’ve looked exactly like he did before. It seems that despite everything, that smiling porcelain mask is the only constant aspect of Tommy’s life.
“You know, I was expecting your brother to visit me long before you did.”
Not my brother, Tommy thinks, but he’s preoccupied with the axe in his right hand. To his side, Technoblade moves to load a crossbow he doesn’t have. The motion is pointless— even if he had been armed, the arrow would’ve been too slow to make any difference.
Tommy’s grip on the handle tightens. “Well you’ll have to settle for me, old friend,” he spits.
“Neither of us are getting visitors in hell. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s where you’re going.”
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Or: Tommy breaks into Pandora’s Vault to kill Dream once and for all. No more innocent deaths, no more lapses in judgement. He will kill Dream, or he’ll die trying. It’s not like he’s got anything to lose.