I've never made one of these before so please do not judge any mistakes too harshly! Anyways-
This is a SFW Blog.
I'm not gonna post lewd stories, art, or anything of that type in this. If you are interested in that kind of stuff head to a NSFW Blog. I don't care if I'm interacted with by nsfw, you do you boo, but I must request that you understand my and others' boundaries by keeping your own preference out of the picture.
Also- my @ is astraymetronome but it's pronounced A Stray Metronome. Not Astray. I just thought I'd point that out lol
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Basic Rules 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
I do write vore including minors, just because it is a comfort thing for me but none of it is or ever will be NSFW. Do not ask for NSFW, do not share with NSFW blogs, and please do not bitch about it not being NSFW.
DO NOT -
𓋼 - Ask For Private Stories
(Everything I write will be posted on my tumblr or my ao3)
𓋼 - Beg For Any Kind of Ships
(I do not write ships because I know I can't cater to everyone)
𓋼 - Tag or Tell me about NSFW
(I'm not interested man)
𓋼 - Repost my Stories
(I've spent a lot of time on them and don't want my shit stolen, trust me people will figure it out and I will know)
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
The minor characters I write with were my hyperfixations when I was still a minor, I'm 19 now, either way, I won't do any real shipping or relationships for my own comfort. Now onto my own information!
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 About Me 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
Hi! I'm Mentronomie! You can call me whatever really but the main ones I go by are Nomie, Emme, Nome, etc.
I'm 20! (07/14/2005)
and use They/Them or She/Her Pronouns!
I have a significant other, who doesn't use Tumblr, and I often post in order of my current fixactions. Right now it is a mix of -
I have three cats that I love dearly and am in college for an education degree! Also, I don't think I've posted about it but I've mentioned this before in notes on my AO3, I have a twin brother! I think it's just a fun tidbit.
I write a lot of stuff and am actually considering opening writing commissions. It's not confirmed but I love writing and have thought about it. It would be really small, nothing big or expensive just because I'm not too sure how to go about it lol.
I noticed that this blog is harassing you and your friends. Could you report and block them?
Thank you for letting me know, and be aware I've gone ahead and reported the post and blocked the user.
I think it's ridiculous that these people are seeing my post about me having a health issue and are calling it, "being fat." So I figured I should at least help use this nuisance as a way to educate the filth that has decided to bring my friends into this bullshit but first-
One. I can understand harassing me, I mean I made a post where I mentioned that these people had hurt my feelings so they did it again. My bad should have learned the how the Internet is by now, but bring my friend in who I didn't even mention by name into it is absolutely sad.
And Two. I think you need to learn how to read, I mean if the acronym SFW is unknown to you let me spell it out since you only understand laymen's terms. "SAFE FOR WORK" means it's something not sexualized. Second, I don't know what kind of weight gain pregnancy fetish you've got going on but I'm not here for it. Take it to one of the many other accounts available for that, I'm here to write about my silly little Minecraft's guys, not your fucked up fanfiction.
Anyway, for the people who are curious I've been having issues with getting dizzy when standing. It's pretty rough, I almost passed out like 2 days ago, and I just recently learned I don't have POTS. The only thing I've been told so far is it's likely Orthostatic Hypotension which means my blood pressure drops when I'm standing because my blood pools in my legs. Normally your body is supposed to be able to respond and it makes your blood go where needed but what our current idea is that my blood volume isn't high enough to help it regulate. I've gotta get more testing done before we can figure out if the issue is related to my thyroid or maybe even an easy sign of diabetes. My grandmother, my mom's bio mother, had it due to her genetics so it's very likely I might have it as well. My mom wasn't able to figure out what type it was, since my mom hasn't developed either type. It's possible I picked up the little DNA info and have it but it's also possible I don't.
At the time of making my last post I said I hadn't been working for a bit. It had been on and off for about 2 weeks, maybe 16 hour weeks if I was lucky, and had basically just been told I can't work till I finish getting this paper work done. At first I thought I'd go back last Friday but then I learned I won't be able too till at least Monday. On Monday they told me I can't work till next Tuesday because of some paperwork problems so right now I'm hoping they call me on Tuesday and tell me I can go to the shift I have scheduled that day.
I'm also not gonna specify anything about my weight, all you guys need to know is I'm in a healthy spot for my height and age according to my doctor.
I'm also not gonna tag this with anything just because I don't care if this gets seen or not! Also to the people reblogging calling me immature, I'm aware I'm immature, but I'm not stupid. I know exactly what I'm doing ^^
Hey I know I've been reblogging a lot today but I want to make a post just telling you guys that I'm alive. Lol
I'm sorry I haven't been posting a lot other than that one Fic from a couple months ago. I've been struggling a lot with my mental health, my job, college, and my physical health. I've not had the energy to write like I used too or to even really do things I enjoy.
I'm not gonna abandon my account or anything but I need to let you know it may be a while before I post again. This isn't a notice or anything, I'm not gonna end myself or something like that, I just... I wanna clear the air I guess?
I've had a lot of issues for a while and they've gotten worse recently, and it's affected my ability to be a functioning member of society. Normally you think 'free time' would help you destress, but it's made me realize how bad it's getting. I'm not at the point of going to a mental institution or anything, even though I've considered it, but I've also had some harassment from Tumblr too even if I've not made any posts about it.
I struggle with my self image and feeling like my life matters so suddenly having some of people calling me a Fatass in my ask box and reblogs made me spiral. I took care of it privately, blocked the account and reported them, but I can't stop thinking about it.
Plus my health has made it where I'm barely working so I can't really afford my bills so I'm gonna have to work more now that things are looking better. Also, I'm not terminally ill before anyone worries, I learned I have Orthostatic Hypotension and need to change a lot about my life so it's been an adjustment.
Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well! Thank you guys for sticking with me even though I've basically given you nothing in the last year.
As someone who was raised Baptist and has been to many different churches and camps in their life, I can confirm sermons either feel like a cult leader reading slam poetry or a Christian rock concert.
Happy Easter!
If anyone starts spewing religion shit in my comments or in my asks I will delete the messages and block you. :D
Hey guysssss, sorry about the delay on the last fic I hinted at. I posted it to my AO3 but forgot to post it here. Anyways- here you guys go! Enjoy 6,000 words of angsty bedrock bros!
Warnings: Gore, Injury, Bedrock Bros, GORE I SWEAR IT'S A LOT, Illness
The chill running through his back was enough for Mars to know what was coming: the familiar buzz in the back of his head that told him when he was being looked at with intent. He dragged in a breath, fighting the urge to cry and moan about this stupid job, as he rolled his head to the side with a crack. He jammed his arm back, feeling his body collide with the elbow, and moved his hand up to grab a palm. He hesitated for a moment as he knocked a blade from the masked man’s hand before shifting his weight and swinging his attacker’s body over his head, making it slam into the pavement.
He stepped back, adjusting his fabric face mask, and cracked his knuckles. Mars ran a hand through his hair, the color of his curls still hidden in the low light of the alley, before he pulled his hood up, adjusting the way it laid as he spoke up. “Just leave me alone!” He groaned, eyes spotting three new people in front of him. The vigilante rolled his fingers, not bothering to keep talking to these freaks. One of them was muttering some bullshit about a bounty, but it wasn’t like it even mattered. He’d still be doing this regardless.
The trio leader took a step towards him, which Mars met with balling up his fist and instinctively throwing a right hook straight for the man’s jaw, feeling as skin met stubble.
---------
The sudden fabric feeling against his hand threw him off, causing Tommy to finish his swing wrong. He offbalanced his weight, and instead of a clean hit to the cheek, he landed a heavy hit across his opponent's jaw. The teen pulled his glove back, hearing someone yell ‘Time!’ from just behind him. He took two steps back, hands dropped to show he had no plans of swinging again. He watched as his Coach stepped into the ring, immediately starting to look Amisey over as he checked their jaw. He didn’t dare to move, standing still until he was sure if he’d screwed up again.
A deeper sigh left the man in front of him, eyes to the ground as Coach Halo turned to face him. That was when Tommy let his eyes lift, seeing a smiling Aimsey peaking out from behind the tall man with a thumbs up. The teen shifted to look up, seeing the white, void eyes of his teacher. “Be more careful next time.” He said simply. The blonde wasn’t used to Bad’s more… calm way to teach Boxing.
“Save that swing for championships, Kid!” A familiar, but very annoying, voice called out to him. Tommy groaned, now worried about being nice as he spoke up.
“Whatever you say, Skeppy.” He yelled back. He respected Badboyhalo enough to call the man Coach, but Skeppy wasn’t someone he could tolerate having in the gym. Not only did the diamond golem know nothing about Boxing, but he would act as he did.
He made sure to bite his tongue from another remark as Bad began to speak over his husband's rambling. “The swings are good, Tommy, your posture and positioning are basically perfect, you just need to work on your follow-through.” Tommy nodded, used to having this told to him by now. He had a stupid, bad habit of hesitating in class. He gets so into the fights that he kind of forgets he’s at the boxing rings and not in the middle of another street fight he got dragged into because a hero didn’t want to clean up an easy henchman job.
Amisey stepped into his view as they spoke up. “I’ll probably just have a decent bruise.” They said with a shrug, smiling as the taller teen nodded before the two of them fell into a conversation. Tommy was grateful for the break to get some time to drag his head back into his reality instead of the haze of swinging fists and panic.
Tommy wasn’t allowed back in the ring the rest of the session, mostly because Halo was worried he would accidentally hurt his arm if he swung wrong, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was because he didn’t want anyone to get a broken jaw.
Tommy was able to feel the itching burn under his skin, the want for bruises and split lips heavy in his head. His power made adrenaline run through his body almost constantly. When he was a kid, people called him a shittier version of Spiderman because he had the awareness but not the control. No matter if the gaze or the emotion behind it, his hair stood on end, and his adrenaline would rush to his heart and head. He could feel people giving small glances and did his best to keep his eyes away from the alleys. If he sees someone being stabbed, he won’t be able to control himself. Turns out, if you’re able to basically feel when someone means you or anyone harm, that fear can almost turn real.
He turned to his vigilante life to escape it; every power has a limit, and he thought he’d found it. As long as he at least fought once a day, it would calm down, or at least it had up until a few weeks ago. Now the need was constant, his body basically craving to make everything into a fight. Tommy pulled out his key, heading into the house he stayed in with his foster parents. The place was still when he entered, the buzz going silent enough to tell him that no one was home. He appreciated it; this group home was so annoying when the other 4 placements weren’t out.
He got into a lot of trouble at first, the constant need to fight making him more irritable and prone to violence, but when he started being Mars, it was enough that he could tolerate being surrounded by other people. He headed upstairs, glad to be the oldest and the only one living in the attic, as he threw his bag to the side and flopped face-first into his bed.
Tommy groaned as he threw his head into a pillow and swung a fist into the mattress below him. He wanted this all to stop, but he was too poor to afford power dampers. Plus everyones he's talked to says they are addictive in pillform and he would rather have a physical damper. His eyes drifted over towards the closet, eyes landing on the exact box he hid his equipment in, by equipment he means the only nice quality clothes he owns.
The teen pulled himself off his bed and slid the box open after a few strides towards the closet. He changed in minutes, hands adjusting the belt for his cargo pants before he brought the hood up and over his head. He shifted the mask with a sigh, feeling a bit of comfort in the familiar clothing as he pulled his combat boots on.
Mars pushed the window to the backyard open, managing to slip through the small space and falling to the ground with a controlled roll. He was used to this, walking through the forest until there was a break into the next neighborhood about 2 kilometers away. He grinned as he rushed past the road, hearing a car honk at him before disappearing into an alley.
________
The night was colder than he expected, busier too, but that didn't stop him from feeding the nagging feeling in the back of his head. Mars had already stopped two homeless thieves from stealing from a kid, punched a cop who tried to get frisky with an arrestee, and kicked another guy in the crotch who decided to scream at his wife for no reason. Overall, a good night for helping people but not for his own needs. The prickling in his neck had been getting worse all night, and he kept fighting the urge to look over his shoulder at every moment.
He could tell someone was following him, but he couldn't figure out where they were, which wasn't normal. His ability was always able to direct him where it was coming from, but his power almost seemed to hum in delight at the challenge.
Tommy, on the other hand, was not happy with this. He didn't need some dumb tail to ruin his plans, and he sure as hell didn't want to have to drag some random kid out of a dangerous situation because they were trying to see him in action. At least he'd prefer that over the idea of being stalked by a villain or some idiot trying to claim the bounty he learned about last week. He's good in a fight, but even he has his limits with things he can take.
His hood hid his eyes, and his mask hid his face; his height was out of the normal and there wasn't a way to hide that, so he made sure his combat boots added a few inches just to throw off anyone trying to identify him. The only way a bounty could claim him would have to be while he's on the move.
He only had about an hour before he'd need to start heading back, bed check would be in two hours, and if he wasn't home by then, he'd be in some serious shit. Of course, things couldn't be that easy for him, and, as Mars expected, he suddenly felt the fear prick in his neck. He jumped out of the way of the alley, a hand having shot out and almost managing to grab his hood. The teen stumbled, almost tripping over his own feet, before steadying himself as a woman came into view. She seemed to be pouting as her head tilted and she spoke up.
“They were telling the truth when they said this would be fun.” Her voice seemed to slur slightly, almost like a purr on the end, as long, claw-like nails pressed out from her fingertips. Mars did his best not to speak, instead just giving her a dull glare that he hoped leaked his distaste. The lady began to ramble, saying some shit about how she went by Catwoman and how she was gonna kill him. Tommy honestly had to bite back his laughter as she tried to be threatening when all he could think of was her sorry attempt at mimicking the DC villain.
The teen gave an eye roll as he popped his dominant wrist before swinging at her. She seemed caught off guard, his fist slamming into her throat before he watched her double over, holding her neck. “Shut up, Selina.” He said quickly, ignoring her gagging coughs as he grabbed her head and quickly pulled it down to his rising knee.
The resounding crack of her nose breaking felt like music to his ears as he let go of her, watching as Catwoman fell unconscious to the floor, nose angled weirdly from the break. Mars crouched down, feeling for breathing from her nose, and pulled away once he was sure she wasn't dead. He sighed once more, whipping his hands together before turning around. Tommy needed to start leaving now before anyone else got involved.
Of course, the vigilante never got what he wanted; the buzzing was still there, and he was being followed by Mr. Make-His-Power-Stupid again. The fuzzy feeling in his neck was stronger, spreading to his shoulder blades, but he still couldn't tell where it was. The sensation was so heavy that it managed to distract him long enough that he noticed the flare of goosebumps on his left arm a bit too late.
Tommy was yanked into the alley before he could even fight back. An arm managed to get around his neck, and the yell of surprise died in his throat. His eyes grew wide as air was forced to stay in his lungs. He hated holding his breath, and now the skin being touched was horrible. His skin burned at the contact, his nerves freaking out from the danger, which didn't help him stay calm. He moved his hands up, instinctively clawing at the limb around his throat.
Mars could feel blood under his fingernails, digging them into the arm as a hand pulled his hood down, and hot breath was suddenly in his ear. “I’ve been trying to get my hands on you for a while now, Mars.” A masculine voice whispered. He could hear the glee in his tone and knew there must be some sadistic grin on his face. The hold on his neck loosened long enough that he could catch a breath before it was pulled tight again as someone traded places with the asshole holding him.
Tommy moved, trying to kick the man behind him, but the new guy simply moved his body to make it hard to get a good kick at him. Tommy's eyes drifted forward, watching as a masked figure came into view. He glared as he recognized the white color and the fucking kid quality smile on the front. Dream was a right dick, even for some of the horrible people he's fought, this bastard took the absolute crown of wrong-un. He figured he could guess who was behind him: Flare’s skin was hotter than a normal person's, and everyone knew that his power was related to flames.
“I’m supposed to take you in alive; it seems that you managed to get on The Syndicate's bad side.” He continued, the lack of interest clear in his voice as he mentioned the villain group. Tommy's avoided them like the plague after all, he's heard enough horror stories that he never goes near their side of town, in or out, of costume.
He found himself ignoring everything that followed, gasping when he was given the opportunity for air as he tried to think about what was going on. The Syndicate has no reason to mess with him; he's made it very clear he has no plans to move to their side of town or to touch anything they mess with. He wasn't sure what was going on, but why would they put down a bounty big enough that Dream would be willing to go after it? He's seen only a few of the heavy hitters in the last week, but that wasn't out of the ordinary for him-
Tommy's panicked thoughts were interrupted as a hand grabbed his mask, and the burning on his neck flared up, causing his eyes to water. The youngest vigilante was quick to try to keep his mask up, but the villain pulled it off without care. His blue eyes were wide as he stared up at the white mask, fear clear in his gaze as he waited. Dream was quiet, the villain looking him over before he heard the laugh building in his chest.
It started as a gaspy chuckle but began to grow into the kind of laughter that makes you regret having ears. His voice was almost manic as the shrill sounds left him. Mars was shaking a bit, his senses going absolutely wild, before the laughing that filled his head went silent as Dream's hand gripped his chin, the force enough to bruise his skin. The same around his neck went loose, instead pinning his arms to his sides as Flare moved him into a strange bear hug.
“You're what everyone's been scared of? Some cocky teenager?” The said teenager couldn't help himself, clenching his jaw before he spoke up.
“What, your ego can't handle knowing that?” He questioned, making sure his voice was sarcastic to hide the fear in his chest. He couldn't let them know he was worried. Tommy rolled his eyes before continuing. “Is it so fragile that you're scared of a kid?” He continued, he hated being called a kid, but he'll use it when he needs to.
Dream didn't seem to like it, the man's posture growing stiff as his head tilted just so slightly. The vigilante squirmed his arms as he was pulled closer to Flare, the other villain keeping his arms tensed so the hold was tight. After a second, a fist hit him, his jaw throbbing as pain bloomed in the spot. Mars could already feel the swelling sitting in as he blinked the shock away.
The masked man was screaming in his face, clearly not happy with his talking back. The man behind him seemed uncomfortable as he felt Flare’s body let go of him. The blonde swayed a bit as he heard the two of them starting to bicker and fight. His entire body screamed with fear, and the tingling sensation went from the base of his neck all the way down his shoulder blades and into his arms. He could feel tightness in his chest as his ears seemed to ring. His body was overwhelmed, his power screaming through his nerves.
Mars did what he knew best, not hesitating as he took a swing. His own fist met someone's torso; he wasn't sure which of the two it was since his vision had grown blurry. His body was shifting on instinct, just a pattern of swing, duck, block, then doing it again. He could feel each time his punches made contact, the sensation of skin against skin, calling the buzzing in his body to slow down and grow calmer. He was panting as he stopped needing to block, just hitting and hitting until his brain finally let up.
The relief in his muscles was immediate, his head leaning back as he took some heavy, deep breaths, his chest heaving as the adrenaline faded into nothing more than a light buzz in his chest. His arms hurt, burns having blistered up where the fabric of his hoodie had seemed to melt away. He never realized that it was made of polyester, but what was done was done. His eyes drifted down, seeing the two forms lying on the ground. He winced at the damage; both of them had black, bloodied eyes and plenty of red marks. He's pretty sure he broke Flare’s jaw and probably fractured Dream's eye, but they weren't gonna get up any time soon. His thumb hurt, having been dislocated at some point, but he could pop that back into place once he was home.
Tommy stepped back, panting as his eyes drifted to the floor to find his mask. He was tempted to just forget it before the light buzzing in his head flared for a moment. He felt panicked for a second, but then it slid into the faint fuzzing of delight as he blinked. He closed his eyes, focusing as he took deep breaths, something pinpointed in his head, and he realized what it was.
The teen straightened, rolling his shoulder slightly as he drifted his eyes over, using his peripheral vision to get an idea of the exact location. He saw the slight glint and immediately knew who was watching him. There was only one villain in L’manburg who used a sniper rifle. He looked up at it, his power aiding him in knowing he was looking the man right in the eyes.
“I see you.” He said simply, a grin on his face. They were already looking for him anyway; the man had been watching the fight, so he probably knew his face regardless.
Mars was prepared to try to dodge if the gun was used; he was worried about it, but he might not even make it to the morning anyway. He was surprised his phone wasn't blowing up already. He continued to watch the spot, noticing how the glint disappeared before he heard an arrow hit the wall next to him. He flinched away when he turned to see the stick; there was a note tied around the staff.
He took the note off, noting how once he had the buzzing of awareness in his head faded, and relaxed as the Blood God had left him alone. Tommy peeled the thing open and read the message.
‘We just want to talk. Meet me at the warehouse on 7th and Madison at midnight tomorrow.’
It was simple and direct. If he were honest, that made sense for the group from what he's heard. Mars gave a sigh as he looked at it, not really interested in messing with the villain’s affairs, but they'll keep that stupid bounty up if he doesn't. He found his mask, digging it out of an unconscious Dream’s pocket. He slid it on and brought his hood up, adjusting the fabric once more. He then turned with his phone out, immediately bolting when he saw the time.
He was dead.
________
Somehow, his foster parents had been asleep and had forgotten about their checks. He wouldn't be surprised if they lied about the thing and never actually bothered, regardless: he got lucky. His body was sore from the fight, but at least his power was quiet for once. He's had situations like this, near-death experiences that left his ability calm and soft instead of heavy against him.
Tommy had spent an hour bandaging himself up last night, but at least a thick hoodie and some makeup covered up the bandages and bruises. He'd gone to school, aching the entire time, and had called out of his boxing session. He was waiting for it to get later, just lying on his bed, trying not to make a noise. His body hurt really bad and the burns on his arms seemed unhappy. He'd done his best to get as much of the charred fabric out of the wounds, but he knew he missed some of it. Plus, he'd been in a gross alley, and he'd been knocked down a few times during his blurry haze. He was scared of an infection, and burns tended to be more sensitive because they lacked the skin layers.
His arms ached and felt tender, but he couldn't do anything right now. Once Tommy knew what The Syndicate wanted from him, he'd make a choice. He'd either be killed by them, disappear if they decided he knew too much, or maybe they'll torture him for information he doesn't even have. All he knew was that he'd probably just be dead by morning regardless of what happened.
It's not like he had anyone to mourn him. His mom and dad had died when he was only 3, so it wasn't like he remembered them. He'd not had any living grandparents or aunts/uncles to take him in, so he was placed into an orphanage. The first family that took him home had returned him after a few days, saying he was too loud for a 3-year-old. It followed like that for years until he found a good placement when he was 8.
Tommy had fit right in with the trio, a nice family with a son only 5 years older than him, being the chaos they needed. He'd been allowed to play and was good around for the year he stayed with them. He loved the Crafts; he saw the family as the place he wanted to stay for the rest of his life, but it wasn't possible. They'd been forced to give him back after his foster brother’s power was finally noticed by his social worker.
He'd been taken from them for his own ‘safety,’ but that was more bullshit than anyone wanted to admit. The teen had never felt safer than when he'd been at home with the Crafts. He’d been moved into a foster home in Pogtopia after he was caught sneaking out to try and get back to his old house, and stayed there until he was transferred back to town when he was 13.
If Tommy had one request before he died, he'd want to see the Crafts one more time. Not that it was possible, he'd gone to their home once he got back, and they'd moved. His family was gone, and he knew there was nothing he could do. A part of him just expected to die during one of his patrols, and… he wasn't against it. Maybe this was what was supposed to happen: Tommy Innit was never meant to grow up. Mars was never going to become a good vigilante. They were both just meant to die in some sorry excuse of an accident.
Dissociation wasn't new to him; he's done it plenty of times in his life, but for once, he knew it was happening. He was stuck in his head, staring at the roof, even as his foster dad came to let him know dinner was ready. He didn't say anything, and the man just left. He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring up at the roof of his room, but when he came back to himself, it was around 10:30 pm.
He needed to get ready.
________
Mars was in a new hoodie, one that he'd really just dug out of his closet that he's not worn in a while, walking through alleys in order to keep himself hidden. His arms throbbed, and his head felt like it was full of lead. He was exhausted, but he couldn't let The Syndicate think he was vulnerable. He’d gotten to the warehouse quickly, around 30 minutes after he left the addict.
He was nervous as he glanced around the roof area, noticing that the only thing blocking his line of sight was behind him. Tommy knew he was early, but he figured that his stalker would have been here already. He sighed and stepped back, staring at the roof access point but keeping the unit in his line of sight as well. He refused to be caught off guard; his breathing was off, almost panting, as his body was hot. He couldn't feel his powers, knowing he was probably feverish, which wasn't a good sign.
His eyes were fuzzy, the cold air being nice against his skin where it managed to sneak under his clothes. After what felt like an hour, he heard boots on the concrete and his eyes shot open. Wait- when had he closed his eyes? He could help himself, immediately pulling a knife from his pocket and holding it out. He needed some kind of defense to keep the man back.
He looked up, eyes settled on the villain in front of him. Mars' eyes drifted over the man, starting at his head and working his way down. He was a little surprised by the pink hair, not expecting it from The Syndicate, but he's heard that no one knows how the Blood God looks. His hair was in a braid that rested on his shoulder. Tommy couldn't say how long it was, but he was pretty sure his unbraided hair went to his mid-back. The crown on his head was pretty, making him a bit jealous that the man could afford something so expensive. He didn't care to see his outfit; it was mostly black with a crown symbol on his chest.
He then lifted his head up again and let his eyes meet the red ones visible through the boar mask on the man's face. “I'm here.” He said quickly, trying to sound strong. “What do you want to talk about?” He added.
Tommy watched as the villain crouched down, putting a large case on the ground next to him before speaking. “You fought well.” The deep voice caught him off guard, but the praise made him hesitate. He lowered his arm slightly, the knife shaking in his hand. He didn't say anything else, and the Blood God took it as a sign to continue. “We have no plans to harm you. The bounty was for taking you to us, alive.”
He growled in response, lifting up the knife again, and then moving now so that it's only inches from his face. Mars was absolutely pissed. “Oh? You guys really thought people would do what it says?” He said bitterly. “You're literally governmentally defined as villains.”
Tommy's really not in the mood for this, but at least it was better than rotting in bed. He watched the man for a moment, very unhappy, before he saw the man open the case. Blood God's hands were a lot bigger than his, and he just watched them pull out bandages and other first aid items. He blinked, confused by them as he brought the knife closer to himself. The vigilante was prepared if he needed to fight back, but this was just confusing.
The villain hummed as he held his hand out, palm up, like he was waiting to be handed something. He wasn't sure what the villain wanted, so he reluctantly started to place his knife into the man's palm, only for him to instead grab his wrist. Tommy panicked for a moment, but the hold wasn't horrible. It was controlling, yes, but his grip wasn't as hard as he pulled the sleeve of his hoodie up.
He no longer had his knife, and now his dominant hand was being held. He wasn't sure what to do, but he wasn't able to do anything. He hurt too much. His eyes drifted over his arm, watching as Blood God began to unwrap the bandages and gauze. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised, and the burns were bright pink and mad under the waxy bits of dead skin and the melted polyester he couldn't pull without causing more damage. Tommy trembled as he saw some blood swelling up where the gauze pulled away with the things it managed to stick to but also a green tint to some of the remaining living skin and a bit pooling in some of the deeper burn sections.
Tommy could have sworn he heard the villain curse under his breath as he revealed the wounds, but he didn't hear him say anything as he crossed his legs and grabbed out some tweezers. He watched as the man began to pull the debris from his arms. It was a struggle not to make any sounds from the pain. Every time he tugged one free, the blood would rush up, and some dripped down his arm. The man was dabbing the spots with gauze to help them calm down. The care this murderer was giving him shocked the teen. This guy killed hundreds of people, but he was treating him like his care meant everything.
This process stuck for a bit before he grew tired of sitting in the silence. “Why did you guys want to find me?” He asked, “You've been following me for a few weeks now.” Mars watched as the villain pulled the last bit of polyester from his burn, and then he pulled out a bottle. Tommy thought it was a potion, but it was clearly just water after it was poured over his arm to rinse it. He dabbed it dry before pulling out more gauze and carefully spreading a cream on it, then doing the same with his arm. Tommy whined when he felt it, the pressure hurting as he was shushed.
He felt like a little kid being taken care of by their mom, but he couldn't remember when his parents did this to him because he was too little. The Crafts took care of his cuts and scrapes, but they weren't taken care of like he might run away like this. Tommy was quiet as his arm was wrapped before Blood God spoke. “We were trying to gauge your standpoint.” He started as he offered up his other arm, which was quickly taken.
He watched as his next arm was unwrapped and began to receive the same treatment. “Father has an interest in you.”
That caught him off guard- Father? Was this man saying that Angel was his actual dad? That made no sense. What kind of parent would drag their child into that life? The vigilante couldn't understand this, but he couldn't do anything about it. “Why?” He asked.
Blood God looked at him quietly, pulling another chunk of fabric from the burn area. He sighed as he moved to another spot and spoke. “He thought you were someone who was taken from us.” He explained. Mars blinked as he tilted his head. Someone they'd lost? He didn't remember hearing anything about the Syndicate having a missing member. They sometimes had Death assist them when the lady was needed.
“I wasn't taken from anyone-” He said quickly, wanting to do what he could to get out of this situation as soon as possible. The villain shook his head as he started to spread cream on his gauze and then on his arm.
“You were taken from us, Theseus.” That made Tommy pause. His eyes went wide as he looked at the man. That name was something he's not heard in years. He loved hearing it again, but he didn't understand how this man could know the nickname his foster brother called him. Now that he thought about it, from what he knew about Death's and Angel’s appearances… they could fit as Kirsten and Philza. His eyes then moved to look at the man in front of him with brighter eyes.
“Techno?..” He asked softly. He could see the way the man's body seemed to shake lightly. He couldn't help himself sitting up a bit as he didn't stop wrapping his arm. Tommy shook as he spoke as well. “Don't play with me- please tell me it's you.” He asked.
After a moment, once he'd finished wrapping his arm, the villain's hand lifted up, pulling the boar mask off his face and showing it. It was older now, but he could easily recognize the scarring on his cheek and the color of his face. The blonde moved his hands, placing them on the face in front of him. He shifted it in his hands, tearing up slightly as he saw his brother's eyes watching him. Techno wasn't crying, but the worry and fear on his face were clear.
It took a few minutes, but Tommy couldn't help himself; he started to sob, shaking as he lifted his arms slightly, hands barely moving to reach for his shirt before he was pulled into a lap. Tommy shook as he dug his fingers into the fabric of his suit, and he pressed his head to his warm chest. He felt as the villain ran his hands through his curls, and the other squeezed his shoulder as he was enveloped in a tight hold. He loved it, being held as he went ahead and pushed his head up until it reached his brother's chin.
“I missed you so much-” He said quickly between his sobs. He was hugging him tighter as he heard Techno shush him again.
“I know… we fought them on it. Dad said that they couldn't trust me not to... lose control.” He understands the fear of not knowing what you can do. Tommy couldn't help but nod as he leaned closer, listening to the sound of a heartbeat. He relaxed into it as he closed his eyes.
Techno shifted his body, and he suddenly felt a hand on his head. He leaned into the cool touch as he heard his brother sigh. “You're burning up. I need to get you to Niki.” Tommy didn't understand why; he knew he had an infection, but he didn't expect a fever. He shook a bit as he nestled closer, eyes closed as he whined. His body aches as he is held to his chest with one arm, the other moving to start packing up the first aid supplies.
The blonde watched him before he closed his eyes as he picked up the case and they stood. He was warm and comfortable, being held by the person he's been missing for so long. Techno had promised him that they'd be reunited, but he honestly thought it was one of those lies you’re told as a kid to make you feel better.
None of it matters right now. He was being held by the one person he's been missing, and he would get to go home soon. Tommy was fine disappearing from his foster home; they could always take in another kid. After all, Tommy's 16. He can make his own choices. All he cares about right now is going home to his family.
Hi I was recommended too you by @baka-monarch for a story. It is. dsmp story so I hope you like it let me know.
seventeen-year-old Tommy is turned into a vampire. But the turning doesn’t go quite right, so after he’s past the “baby” stage, that long period of time where a fledgling is entirely dependent on their sire due to the drastic changes happening to their physiology, his instincts don’t form correctly in regards to his sire. Despite drinking his sire’s blood to maintain the bond, it doesn’t set in, so there’s no instinct to prevent him from killing the older vampire and fleeing.Afterwards, he’s able to go enjoy his afterlife, not held under a potentially oppressive sire. Years go by before he meets Tubbo and Ranboo. The two are fellow sireless vampires who also happened to have been unfortunately turned in their teens, forever keeping them physically that age. They become a coven, sticking together.Centuries have passed since then. Tommy sees Phil one day and decides he needs to have him as his fledgling, so he turns him. Tubbo finds an old drunk in an alley named Schlatt, and for whatever reason, he thinks that’s a good father figure and turns him, lying to the man later on by telling him it was his own idea. Ranboo, semi feral due to not feeding in a while, accidentally releases his venom when drinking from Puffy, unintentionally making her into his fledgling. The three take care of their fledglings together for about a century before deeming them capable of being by themselves, allowing them to leave the nest while they travel the world again. Hundreds of years pass with occasional correspondence between the sires and their fledglings by mail, the fledglings eventually siring their own.Phil sires Kristin, a human woman he met and fell in love with; he turns her before she dies in a horrific accident, and when her young son Wilbur is an adult, Phil turns him as well to keep the family together. Techno is sired by him later on as well, having met the man through Wilbur. And Wilbur ends up siring Fundy at an even later date. Schlatt only sires Quackity. Puffy turns just two: Foolish and Dream, but the latter goes on to sire George and Sapnap.The grand and great grandfledgings have never met Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo before, only having heard about them from their direct fledglings. After millennia have passed since the day Tommy was turned, Phil gets a call from him, the physically young vampire telling his fledgling that he’s coming home after so long of not seeing him. Tubbo and Ranboo are mentioned as well, so after he hangs up, Phil immediately goes to contact Schlatt and Puffy so that they’re informed of the whirlwind that’s about to happen.The fledglings are confused about all the running about, beginning to become a little nervous about the arrival of these ancient vampires. Eventually, a teenager with a loud mouth barges in the front door of Phil’s coven, yelling for Phil with absolutely no respect. Techno and Wilbur startle on the couch where they were sitting, not having even heard the stranger enter their property. Before they can do anything, Phil arrives and is engulfed in a hug, the other two watching warily.Tommy looks at the two fledgings before back at his own, questioning Phil on when he got them and why he had neglected to mention their existence to him before. The older but still much younger than the other vampire looks sheepish at that, apologizing to his sire while Techno and Wilbur’s expressions swiftly morph into pure shock… they had no idea Phil’s own sire’s appearance looked decades younger than their own
I really like the idea but it's a bit too much for me to write. I apologize but I can do a vampire themed one in the future. Though, I will do it with Philza turning Toms or Techno turning him because I have daddy issues and love found family! Thank you for the story though, I'm sure my followers might like reading through it! I'm still in college so I've not posted a lot.
It's not vore or gt related but I'm currently working on a Bedrock Bros fic. Right now it's a one shot from Tommy's point of view but I might make a follow up from Techno's.
Regardless, I promise I'll be back to posting soon. I've been healing well from my surgery and I think I'm getting my inspiration back!
Here's your teaser~
love you guysss
If Tommy had one request before he died, he'd want to see the Crafts one more time. Not that it was possible, he'd gone to their home once he got back and they'd moved. His family was gone and he knew there was nothing he could do. A part of him just expected to die during one of his patrols and… he wasn't against it. Maybe this was what was supposed to happen: Tommy Innit was never meant to grow up. Mars was never going to become a good vigilante. They were both just meant to die in some sorry excuse of an accident.
That's all <3 (ps. Mars and Tommy are the same person)
