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.

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.