Tommy Sprinkles Trauma On His Character Like He Sprinkled Salt On That Taco In Quackitys Video

Tommy sprinkles trauma on his character like he sprinkled salt on that “taco” in Quackity’s video

most people writing their smp character: *writes one traumatic event for their character* ok that should be enough for some emotional depth

tommy writing his smp character: *sprinkling trauma into his character's story like seasoning* this is good. hm. no. a little bit more. now this is good. wait no. a little bit more. oh this is great. but it could use a bit more. how about now. hmmmm needs a bit m

me: god if this author doesn’t update I’m going to DIE

also me, an author with several WIPs:

Why do I always think of /lh as “light hate” and /pos as “piece of shit”

Seven Days Till Sunlight

!!!Spoilers for Tommy’s Stream “Last Time Visiting Dream In Prison!!!

Summary: In which Dream learns every way to push Tommy's buttons, and in return, Tommy finds that Dream has a few buttons he can push as well. Mostly angst with a happy ending. You don't need to have read anything else in the series to read this, but if you have, you might pick up on a few references! :)

Chapters: 1/7

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“We’re locked in here together, Tommy.” Dream said, the delighted lilt of his voice poison to Tommy’s ears. “We’ll be here, just the two of us, for a very, very long time.” 

Tommy felt like he couldn’t breathe. The lava bubbled and popped behind him, a quiet reminder not to back up any further. “No,” he whispered, his voice coming out nothing more than a strangled whisper. “Sam, let me out.” 

“Let me ouuuttt…” Dream mocked him softly, creeping a little closer to the shaking boy. The lava lit up his scars a brilliant white, and his green eyes were predatory, filled with the adrenaline of a hunter stalking his prey. 

“Sam!” Tommy’s voice raised in volume and pitch as he stumbled back another dangerous step. “Sam, let me out! Phil! Help me!”

A haunting giggling reached his ears, chilling him to the bones. Dream was laughing, shoulders shaking and arms wrapped around himself as he tried to contain his glee. “Yes, Tommy,” he managed to get out between giggles, “Call for them! Beg and plead for them to come and whisk you away! They’ll hear you eventually… right?” His giggled died down, subsiding into nothing. His eyes glinted with smug excitement. “No one is coming for you, Tommy. You don’t have anyone left but me.” 

Tommy could feel himself shaking, but he swallowed down the lump in his throat and turned to face the manipulative bastard in front of him. Dream met his gaze with curiosity, cocking his head. “They’ll come for me,” Tommy said, careful that his voice didn’t waver. 

“Oh,” Dream pouted, “Of course they will, Tommy. In fact, I’m sure they’re coming for you right now! You must be their top priority. After all, we both know just how much they all care for you.” 

“You’re a real dick,” Tommy hissed out, curling in on himself. The statement lacked his usual venom. 

Dream just gave him a cold smile. “Cute,” he replied.

Continue reading here on AO3, if you so desire! :)

content creators reblog this if you don't mind followers making a long streak of reblogging from you!! sometimes, I feel awkward for making a long reblog streak after checking out posts from blogs, STILL I'm sure it'll probably make the blogger happy somebody's reblogging them??? Like coolio, what a fine sense of devotion and support!!!

Anything You Can Do (He Can Do Better)

Summary: Everything's fallen apart, and Tommy doesn't know what to focus on as he sits in the ruined wreckage of what used to be L'Manberg. Tubbo shares some of his thoughts with his best friend, trying to help. (I wanted to write Tubbo comforting sad Tommy, sue me.) Angst with a happy ending. 

2,025 words

little excerpt/link below :D 

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Tommy scowled, looking out over the ruined remains of his country. Kicking his legs lightly over the edge, he let out a rough sigh. It hurt his lungs to breathe too heavily, but the rattled breath feels more appropriate now than it ever has.

A couple of spare pebbles tumble over the edge, skipping and plinking off of the harsh drop. It’s so deep that he can’t even see the bottom of it. He closes his eyes and the crackles and bangs of ignited TNT flash beneath his lids. Biting his lip, he shakes the images from his brain and the tears from his eyes. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to cry now.

His fingers clench around the furry edges of his cloak, torn and bloody and threadbare. The oh-so-carefully restitched patches were fraying, and the original light blue of the cloak was barely perceptible through the thick layer of dirt and gunpowder clinging loosely to the fabric. Biting back a hissed curse, Tommy unbuckles the cloak from his shoulders and holds it in shaking hands.

If you want to read the rest on AO3 you can go here! Make sure to double check my warning in the notes. :)