TommyInnit Oneshots

tommy doesn't have any urges.

hey sorry for not posting im working on a vigilante book jaaajaha

happy rainbow month besties !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)

ANYWAYS, before we go into this one shot, I want to remind you all that this is complete FANFICTION. This has no relation to the real IRL TommyInnit or other mcyt/dream smp members. sorry for wasting your time, ENJOY BOYS!

Tw: cussing, (major) character death, blood, weapons, murder, voices, mentions of SH (self harm)

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He didn't mean to.

He really didn't.

Okay, he kind of did.

They hurt his best friend. They hurt his family.

He hurt Techno, Wilbur, Phil, Tubbo, Ranboo, Aimsey, Purpled, Sapnap, it goes on.

So, he's sat, in the middle of nowhere in the woods, holding the filthy mask his victim always wore. The smile will no longer haunt the one's he loves!

His eyes fixated off the mask, and onto the mangled body.

Dream was destroyed. Tommy used nothing but a knife and some rope. His arm was cut off, he was bleeding everywhere, he slit his throat, all his clothes are torn, the once blonde hair now covered in his own blood.

It made Tommy laugh his ass off.

In school, Dream took it too far. Way too far. He didn't care about him getting hurt. He tries not to think of that too much. He's talking about the ones he cares about.

Nobody liked Dream. They don't have to worry about him anymore!

After Tommy's done with his laughing fit, he grabs his bag, pulling out a lighter and some gasoline. Now, he didn't want to start a forest fire, but you got to get rid of a body somehow without evidence, right?

He didn't feel any guilt, only about the fire. He was half-tempted to just leave the forest with his body and go somewhere else, but it'd be suspicious if a 16-year-old carrying down a dead body with its limbs everywhere, now, wouldn't it? All he did had to run; he already had a new set of clothes and hair dye. He also had contact lenses.

Tommy flung his bookbag on his back, ready to time this as he slowly pours the gasoline over the body. He quickly looks around as he does it. He then flicks on his lighter, throwing it on the dead body and booking it.

He ran, and he ran, and he fucking ran.

He was two hours away from his house, he ran one hour.

Obviously, in the shadows. He was covered in blood!

So, once he found a place to change, he started to calm down.

It was an all-black outfit, he also put a beanie on to hide his hair. And a red mask.

He can just blame it on being very paranoid about Covid. It's fine.

Everything's fine.

He felt his heartbeat in his throat, cold sweat forms.

He didn't want more blood.

The scream's didn't give him serotonin. 

The plea's didn't bring him joy.

This was a onetime thing. This was to be forgotten about, he didn't crave the blood.

He didn't crave the adrenaline. 

He picked up the pace in his walking.

It was getting around four in the morning; he could make it on time.