Mostly Hermit craft Oneshots (Mainly ZiT)

The fall- Hermitcraft/Dsmp

Tw: Attempted suicide,blood

He had spent the day building. Preparing. Building up. 

  

 But this wasn't any tower. 

  This was the begging of the end. The final note to his symphony, one that he hadn't started. Forced to fight in wars, watching as his nation crumbled around him. Leaving scars. Scars you can't see. Scars that don't heal. 

Scars that stain, that made every little thing set you off. That let them win. That let the voices win. 

And Tommy was tired of letting them win. 

The sun started setting, and the blonde looked down. He'd built all the way to build limit. His eyes tired and clothes ripped, the boy felt like his soul had been ripped out of him. 

  He looked down to his freedom. To the final note that was about to strike. The shadows slowly crept over the trees as night started to set in, on the hell hole of a place he was forced to call his home. 

And he wasn't afraid. Not of dying. 

He was afraid of what we're to happen if he survived. 

   

 He'd already lost two lives. Feeling as his energy drained, the blood staining his hands. The pain. The darkness. The quiet. The abyss. 

   

   The slow revival, as all that pain resurfaced. 

As the memories, thoughts, scars all came back. The voices were more painful then ever. 

     He just wanted it to stop. He wanted to not hear them anymore, as they cried out for blood, gore and his disks. 

Those damn disks cost him everything.

Wilbur, tubbo, ll'manberg….all of it. 

Tommy was tired. Tired of fighting, if factions. Of picking sides. He just wanted everyone to be at peace and get along. 

It was all his fault. 

Tommy looked around one last time. His smelled the air, tainted by war and hatred. Watching as the stars came out. He felt his tattered clothes, the bruises and tears that started to burn his eyes. He adjusted the handkerchief around his neck, not like it had any meaning to him now. He felt weird without it by now, even if it brought the teen memories he'd rather forget. 

Now he smiled, watching as the world fell asleep. 

     The blinde stood up and bowed to his universe for the last time. His broken eyes finding hope for the first time in a long time. 

   

And then he fell. 

He felt the wind on him in a moment, the only sound filling his ears. Everything sped up, getting faster and faster.

  

Boom

It was bright. That was when the blonde had realized what hed done, realization washing over him like a cold wave. 

 But then the ground came up to meet him with another boom, and pain erupted from every cavity of his body. Washing and crack and crevice, so painful, yet so peaceful. 

"Over here!" 

He felt far away hands on him, pulling him up. The blonde winced at it, it burned. 

"He's alive!" 

"Hey, hey can you hear me?" A soft voice asked. 

Even If he was in pain, Tommy focused all of his energy on the voice, he forced his eyes opened. 

   

 He saw a familiar blur. The brown hair, black and yellow shirt all blended together is one big glob of person.

"That's it." They seemed to turn. "Go get •••••." 

    

It burned. It hurt. Everything, everything was on fire. A fire he couldn't put out. His throat, everything. He was sinking into the silence he craved. The silence he had now feared. 

  

"W...wilbur...m'scared…." His chocked out painfully. 

That was when oblivion ate him whole, a force pulling at him. 

"Shh...rest. your gonna be alright…"