꧁𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝙱𝚊𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚗꧂ A Tommyinnit One-shots book

I'm sick of this god damn shit show 🌧

TW: Injury's i guess? Minor panic attack, small mention of past SH

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Tommy sat down on a bench. recalling a time before the tension and warfare that characterised L'Manburg, before his first and second exiles. when, at Tubbo's touch, he showed no reaction.

Tommy had been considering leaving for some time. before his initial exile..

The country had already started to rot, and numerous people had made plans to kill him.

L'Manburg was never a place the 16 year old could just, be a child.

He was forced to grow up to fast.

He had been fighting for this nation for far to long!

He commits one mistake, and all of a sudden receives the harshest punishment possible—aside from death, of course.

He had a bag on his back already as he looked over the crater he formerly called home. He gently stood up and started running. He kept going until it was so dark that he could not see a foot in front of him.

Tears were streaming down his face, his eyes red and puffy.

He needed some time to collect his breath, but once he did, he started to make up a tent because he knew he wasn't too far from the SMP yet. Setting up shop permanently was premature.

Naturally, there were going to be monsters around as it was a forested environment with shade.

He received a few bites, both from spiders and zombies, as was to be expected. He also had a few arrows sticking out from his skin, which made it difficult for him to move.

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Time skip 3 years

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Tommy was now 19 years old, but he displayed the maturity of a 25-year-old. He had hair that was just past shoulder length. Although not significantly, he had grown. Instead of pretending to be 6'3 and being 6'1, he was now genuinely 6'3. His eyes had lost the gleam of youth they had once possessed. His once-bright blue eyes are now a pale yet lovely cadet grey, rarely displaying any emotion.

He fluffed up his exquisite wings. They had only lately settled there. In contrast to other avians, he had to undergo this excruciatingly painful process alone, with the exception of his dog, of course.

Clementine was a beautiful dog. She was a Great Dane, so she was quite large but very affectionate. When the skinny boy was lying down or sitting down, she would always crush him.

His wings were those or a northern flicker, the under wings quite a beautiful shade of amber.

He had since forgetten about the red and white shirt and cargo pants, replacing them with a grey sweater, and loose jeans.

If you came across his house, you would have expected it to be just a cobblestone tower, but he had long grown out of that 'phase' he liked to call it.