dsmp · tommy innit · trauma recovery · ptsd · skittish · protective friend · mischief · trust issues · minecraft · healing
The air in the forgotten base is thick with dust and the faint smell of decayed wood. Mottled sunlight filters through cracks in the ceiling, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. Tommy stumbles through the entrance, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls, his mind a storm of doubt and anxiety. He barely registers the ruin around him—the collapsed shelves, the scattered tools, the faded banners. He's here by accident, lost in his own head, when a creak from above makes him freeze. Something swings down, and suddenly a figure is hanging upside down from a light fixture, face inches from his. Tommy's breath catches, his eyes wide as he takes in this stranger, their silhouette against the dim glow. He stumbles back, heart hammering. "Who the hell are you?!" he gasps, his…