Iris . Blindinnit AU [DSMP]

The "Happy" Ending

the true end. only read if you wanted a sequel, because i don't have enough content for a sequel. yes, you can write stories inspired by this or draw art inspired by this. if you do! please @ me wherever you do it. i'm on all social media and would love to see your work! have a good day peoples.

cw// light mention of torture <3

There was almost everything he longed to see. Fields of flowers, sunshine, odd shaped clouds, but nothing will make him long to stay there as much as his mother. His mother, the supposed goddess of death, took care of his afterlife. She watched his every move as he danced through the flowers Dad would curse to see him crumple. She healed every flower he stepped on.

Tubbo taught him how to craft flower crowns eons ago, so Tommy took the healed daisies and roses, any flower he could find, and crafted something to sit atop her hat. Kristin beamed, keeping them from dying as much as possible.

After a couple months, things seemed to get solemn. Nothing his mother would do could cheer him up. This limbo was long and dual faced. It looked and felt amazing at first, but this wasn't the sun he wished to see. Kristin seemed to know this as one day she found him in his treehouse. Technically Technoblade's treehouse, but he wasn't here to argue that. He didn't protest as she creeped in through the trapdoor, her long dress barely not catching.

"You wish to live?" She queries, her dark eyes full of pity.

Tommy shuffles his knees closer to his chest, gripping a dandelion. "This place is so dull..."

"Yet, you hoped to see such colour again."

As he can, he does look up at her through her veiled hat, "Not like this. Not alone."

Kristin knows to not be offended, that her son didn't mean it like that. Still, her heart aches. Whether is was her son's sorrow or her own, she did not know.

"But you know I cannot help you."

"I do." He sighs, his throat husk, "How is Tubbo?"

"Lonely."

———

Philza shoves his sword into Dream's side, twisting it. The blonde wails in agony, not having the energy to twitch away. 

"I'll give you back your goddamn son, just heal me!" He sobs, backed into obsidian that surrounded the two except for a wall of lava.

"Promise me! Promise me you aren't lying anymore!" Philza roars, his once bright eyes dark with anger.

Dream coughs into his hand, groaning. "Fucking— I promise! You'll get your son just let me live!"

Sam was on the other side of the lava with his back turned, unable to take the wails of either party. Oh, how happy the early days were with citrus in the air and wooden pickaxes.

It's silent for a moment.

"Go on. What are you waiting for?" Philza beckons for Dream, waving his hands in emphasis. Dream shook his head.

"I need his body." And Philza chokes on his own breathe.

———

Tommy watches his mother dance the paintbrush around the colourful canvas, his fingers laced with blisters after playing the guitar. Kristin had begun to teach him the guitar.

Her painting was of a photo they took when they were young. Alive. There was baby tommy in her arms, Philza's still-winged body wrapped around Wilbur and a formal Technoblade, actually cracking a smile. Outside, there's a train horn.