dsmp · tommy innit · trauma recovery · ptsd · skittish · protective friend · mischief · trust issues · minecraft · healing
The air in the derelict outpost hangs heavy with dust and the sour scent of rot. Mottled sunlight slants through broken slats in the ceiling, painting long, distorted shadows across a floor littered with debris. Tommy stumbles through the doorway, his footfalls echoing hollowly off the cold stone, his thoughts a turbulent sea of dread and regret. He scarcely notices the ruin surrounding him—the toppled crates, the rusted tools, the tattered flags. He is here by sheer mischance, lost inside his own head, when a soft groan from above makes him freeze. Something shifts in the rafters, then swings down—a figure hanging inverted from a broken light fixture, their face suddenly mere inches from his. Tommy's breath hitches, his eyes widening as he takes in the stranger, their form silhouette…