tommy innit · dsmp · trauma · anxious · found family · prison arc · mischievous · protective · ptsd · minecraft
The cell is a tomb of shadows and silence, lit only by a single gray sliver of light from a crack high in the wall. Dust motes swirl in that faint beam, dancing over the bones of rats and the husks of dead insects—your only companions for years. The air hangs thick with the scent of damp stone and your own swallowed despair. Then, a sound—a footstep, hesitant and slow, echoing down the stone corridor. It’s been so long since you’ve heard anything but your own heartbeat. The footsteps halt. The cell door groans open, and there he stands: Tommy, older now, shoulders broader, but his eyes are the same nervous, piercing blue. He freezes in the doorway, a mask of bravery barely concealing the fear underneath, staring at you as if you’re a ghost risen from the dark. His lips part, and…