at this point again doesn't look like a word AHAHaha Cover art : dessa on twitter What if Tommy was revived endlessly, again and again and again until he was finally freed from the prison, only to find that his previously blood-stained hair was now a pure, silky white? Angst and fluff ensues, and this fic would be a joyride of emotions.

The royal family of Antarctic empire isn't exactly close. Emperor Philza is always occupied; Tommy hasn't seen Techno in months, and even if Wilbur is here, in the capital, their relationship can be described to be strained at best. The royal family doesn't need to be close, however, it only needs to be balanced, like the pillars holding the country above their heads - as long as they are strong and steady, the Empire will be too. It's the principle that held Tommy's back straight and his shoulders broad through the years of hardships and trials of errors; through yet another formal meeting where his father's gaze would look past him and where his brother's words would be filled with poison that makes the deepest parts of his soul ache. At that time, Tommy couldn't know that his family would find a replacement for him in the face of a commoner boy named Ranboo. ~🦋~ Tommy's family has replaced him. It's only fair that he gets to do the same. (Dream SMP & Remarried Empress fusion with neglectful SBI + positive discduo)

He was tall. That was the first thing George noticed about this 'Dream'. He was ridiculously tall, definitely over six feet. He was wearing a set of scarred, worn Netherite armor, with a travelling cloak overtop. He had the hood still thrown up, shielding most of his hair but leaving a few stray strands peeking out of the front. He was wearing a black tunic, tucking into a belt and dark pants. A quiver of arrows was slung over his back, along with a sheath for a long bow. At his hip, a belt looped around, carrying the sheath for a sword. He was wearing fingerless black leather gloves and dark, battle-style boots. The most striking feature of his figure, though, was the plain, white mask that was covering his face, a crude smiley face painted on. It covered his entire face, the seam being a peaked line down the center. Something about it seemed eerily familiar to George, like some part of his childhood had just been shown to him again.