minecraft-fanfiction-house

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Cozy Cave

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Tearful VIllager Sandwiche

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

50 posts!

... I need to complete writing

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

I have not posted anything so sooner or later I will be posting everything

And what i mean is that i am not going to painstakingly copy paste text, their will just be screenshots... and a description on what the plots about

Sooner or later probably

I have so much fic ideas and strangled dialogue and action scenes

I have to muxh and too little

And I have not finnished the gore writing promot I was so excited to write about

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Villager 8008: I want to be against a mansions chest.

Villager 305: Why would you want a mansions chest, and against you how?

Villager 8008: Oh, I meant a 'mans chest' Aha.

Boobs and an upside down Hoe on a calculator [atleats I think I used the same numbers lol I didn't check]

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Gore' Over Minecraft

As always Credits were credits are due; Goretober Prompts By @cartexcreationsart & Oc-tober writing prompts from kharmio_’s

Overthrowing the government goals

Tw & Prompt

Decapatation Aspirations<3

An illager crowned by old jewel of a royal guard uniform from a fallen empire, sat at their desk, stained exp on the floor, and heavy footsteps echoes behind their door. A flood of guard pushed the door open, shocking the crowned illager in disgust.

======

The light shined through the open gates, to the crown illager, and two evokers behind him.

“I am not a humble corrupt, but i am quite frankly overworked and young.”

The normal un-gemmed fitted illager waved their hand. The armoured guards beside the evoker with an unkempt brow, robed in black and gold with black entrails of potion effects in their golden trim, with their glasses in their pocket broken.

Crowned illager looked glanced back at their evoker on their right. Evoker priestess looked down, with all the self-awareness of their sins. The dullend clothing that comparatively had a bigger gold trim didn't shine as nicely.

“Tch” The crowned illager stared at the lower class guard worker, peeking at the modest maid walking outside the gates, “You have no loyalty, or any respectable understanding of why I controlled this region.”

The worker glanced down at them, their eyes bothered by the sun. Being disturbed in their conversation in the mother tongue, far from the illagerish the once ruler of the land knew.

"My loyalty’s is towards nature, she is a ruthless controller. This is only natural, for fear of you taking away my children, this is for their survival."

They walked out the gate, a cobblestone stage of execution. How wonderful!

==

A basket, dried, used and worn. It had a rag, smelling similarly to some soap with leaves and lemon skin.

Their fresh dried leaves, and there's dust of withered leaves from falls 3 months ago.

A dead wild wasp leg sticks out, or was it a queen bee kicked out my a sister or a hidden code from the workers to overthrew the long emperor.

And with that, the neck hanging over the guillotine dripped out exp into the basket.

The confetti from the witches was the only loudest ones there all the way in the hills, quite far but as visible as the moon. You could still be able to hear a thump of the head go into the basket.

Watery red blood stained the ragged, and dropped head. The heads whittend eyes, seeping to go back in their head. The vocals chopped off of the pittering quietness of and the breezes overshadowed with the quiet and peaceful crowd attachment to the over-excitement of a dead king.

--

Yay 421 words <3

Decapitation, Overthrowbed.. that's the only thing i came up for aspirations <3

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Gore Over Minecraft

Goretober Prompts By @cartexcreationsart & Oc-tober writing prompts from kharmio_’s

A little late but oh well, I kind of got stumped on Bloodspill, it was either Saw Room from a Teenage Serial Killer or Witnessing a murder from the Perspective of a Child

Tw & prompt

Frozen & Describing things they liked Death <3

Blizzard crashed by a small ravine with a cute hill, with two ollager’s cuddling by each other, Hearing the hoard of quick whispers.

Iceolager with sharp blue markings, and orange beaded eyes that seemed shined from a box of glass buttons.

And an ollager with red sickly eye’s huddled next to them on the snow, smushing the side of their coats, their cheeks had a visible hexagon pattern of a potion effect. 

Both of them had a Mole, but the Ollager had two. Maybe an angel kissed them twice, as some would say in his tribe. Quite a big bunch, and as hidden as ice spikes. 

Well there were many, many visible ice spikes. But not when your falling at high speeds, that's the only type of visitors they get.

“Say, what do you like”

“What's that”

“Liking”

“No, I just didn't hear you from the blizzard.”

“Oh, that's the only thing you're focusing on.”

“It’s really loud, the ravine isnt that deep.”

The ollager whined, playfully, shaking the icollagers shoulder. Watching them block the entrance with simple smooth ice blocks.

“Again what-”

“Note blocks.”

“.. Those are nice, do you know what they look like?”

“I have one.”

They got out those things dogs have with beer, but this one was a- “Note chest my mom gave me, i also have the whinging lever thingy to play it.” 

The iceollager leaned their head against the wall, crossing their arms.

“Opening it up would be a bother, but it's more of a fine gimmick at a desk as decoration. That’s my preference, it would be nice to hear and notice someone nearby, but not when they know your area.”

You'd think the iceolagger crossing their arms would mean they wouldn't like to be here, but they have their own body language in holding themselves up from being a little tired. Don't always listen to those pesky, I definitely know psychology, this is the only way this thing works with 8 billion mobs in the world.

“It's as small as a button, that's just cute, I'm dying.”

“It, plays my birth songs melodies~”

The villager rolled their tongue, holding the lully by a box like a statue figure, or no, better yet a trophy.

Of course, the iceollager already knew the music notes, but they just ignored their over-explanation.

-Skip-

Purplish cheeks, and smudged makeup on their cheeks. A pulse as weak as a their music box’s melody. Death reeked and the wind stopped.

The ollager must still have a pulse, at least for them not to suffer through a fever.

Iceollager crouched down on their feet, hands clasped layed on the top of their nose pointing at their forehead. 

Looking down at a music box, cracked from the ice to top and bottom. Like a mini chest thats broken without its hinges.

It sounds like the metal is still playing a blocky lullaby.

-- Words 455

{they are the “Do you think the wind is ever trying to tell us something” “What are you talking about.” And musical about how someone took control over the speakers}

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Gore' Over Minecraft

Goretober Prompts By @cartexcreationsart & Oc-tober writing prompts from kharmio_’s

Prompt aside, a little comic I made thinking of Cheryl and werewolf getting beat up by a big wolf.

Mightve failed drawing ravager sticker's but humour and a pencil can sure make me a lot more determined to complete it<3

{Second page of Cheryl roundhouse kicking the fodder oc is still in works ♡} 3/4 mini comic sketch

I was so proud of getting a face will work on the legs and tail later[but might as well post it today, ill tag you on twitter later with the rounhouse kicking part and more detail or anatomy on the tail] I was do happy to atleast made a really good headshot to draw for you ♡ barely any visible flowers, my pink pens will have to wait ♡

The Graveager oc I created as a punching bag fodder for the small comic sketch <3

The combined Prompts inspire this Fodder's backstory and not a name used in sight!

Prompts

Oc's backstory in a nutshell & Bitten but nothing bloody

All I see is pink, the floral stench feels revolting like I'm licking the perfume.

My head is slowly unjarring to the brunt force of making a roomier tree-” Aah!”

Augh, am I glad my head isn't heavy enough for me to fall? I drop a glass bottle of wine, whining to the bruise of the bite on my head hitting the back of the tree.

The rhythmic leaves blowing in the wind with the small shake of the tree, with the long front like a skirt. Church’s hand my downs were comfortable, but the idea that it was the only thing I was wearing to feel the wind on my legs was better than I thought.

Just with a migraine, it'd be so hard to feel calm about the wind. That's so boring to have a conversation about…

Someone else was talking to me about the air during a shift, and itd always the most insane shit, ‘Do you think we had ancester ancient times that tries to communicate with us through the wind, and thats why were always cold before a village raid.’

That's one of many stupidest things I've heard grabbing a haybale. It was an existential thought after a week of feeling ancestral guilt. Where it only let me stare out off into space, wanting to give myself a little rest on the cobblestone fence with a small opening, but feeling the hot breath of the demon child of a ravager we started to call ‘Johnny’

Which, we had to stop doing because the owner of the ranch and ravagers had their kid name tagged Johnny, ‘like I'm name tagging that gruff, that ravager is intelligent as it is to be evil’.

I huffed, remembering the ranch keeper’s look. And they were a dirtied mess. This makes sense because I'd never relax with the face of the nether’s missing offspring. That Gruff had dragged them through the dirt. Too Bite Me. And die….

At least I get to have the made-up wine leave from the ranch to the church as remedies. “Grrrgh…” my torsos pains kicked in. Shit, I’d dropped the wine!

“Oh no!”

I’m so thirsty and whiny.

A trickle ran down my face looking at the bottle on the floor, the sun shimmering at the small puddle.

---

383 words!

yay, I am happy with this chapter. Mightve originally have been about my vampire oc, but making my oc fodder to get roundhouse kicked by carex ravager oc Cheryl <3 It was just a joy on the fitting prompts

{:Upcoming chapters and laughter:}

Aspirational Decapitating ASMR

Tortureous Puzzle Time

Silly Stinging Fears

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Gore' Over Minecraft

Goretober Prompts By @cartexcreationsart & Oc-tober writing prompts from kharmio_’s

The Gore over Fic, play on words of Go Over of going over something or reading{or gore all over Minecraft hehe}. Might not be completing, wich is exactly why I told myself to write atleast 200 words. But hey 1696 seems like, a fine number to be <3

The Poacher's Curse

Summeray, not as poacher oc focused <3

TW & Warning - Gutspilling - Rotting

- Character introduction

This isnt beta-read and not good pacing... but I did get to write my oc and brainstorm what a ravaged werewolf priest would look like, but their aren't that good of detailed scenes.. I mean I dont have to warn about that, I can be as bad as i want I'm only warming up to november.

but i cant help but overexplain know can I- Hah! <3 Thank you for reading, and yknow what yeah sure criticise the obvious be the beta-reader I never asked to read over before I post Haha! oh if you want, my friends are gonna hype me over my writing{Ive yapping to long on my tumblr than my ao3 notes}

Staring blankly at the stars, losing my mind, and spacing out. My neck crunches, like I was a creeper dried over the seasons.

Clutching my journal with a Ravager icon, I posture myself to clutch it with both arms and hang it over my robe. My brain slowly seeps out what I was losing my head about as I move like a statue.

Looking at the path, going away to the rotting frog spiked by an anti-herbivore branch, being eaten alive by butterflies. 

The cliff might be a nice way to catch the wind, but oh do I love the leaves, the breeze dodging trees and hitting me. My shoes clopped onto the stones that bloom from my view, my tail curling like a flame the fireflies making stary hues, the wind grazing my horns to ice, and my tusk tasting like bones with the smell of a sweet candle. 

As any teeth taste like.

I remember getting those candles from a while ago for my church. The circular granite building on the other side of the cliff sees the ocean horizon of trees. It’s a swampy mangrove, so there is a lot more ocean for the mangroves.

I clank on the steps inside the church, sliding my feet elegantly to the side of my shoe. The jewelled fireflies that go down my robe, flicker up with light. \\as if they were still alive, but hey they're appreciated. Are these taxidermy with cotton? I never asked as much as I forget.

Clopping my way in I see the stage, or one slabbed stage with a cobblestone book holder. With moss coated like glitter mold, pretty.

“Good stature nurse’s apprentice, I'm glad if you seem to get it as a habit.”

I nod with a smile and greeting.

An Evoker doctor needs some spirits to help in sickness to soothe in death. A bit like Vex nurses from those novels; A vex playing gently with a telescope from movies, and another vex holding an axe for happy amputations.

Usual mansions aren't that organized and even the evokers know just how to raid. Which would make them sound stupid, but oh well.

“Heheheha.”

“What are you laughing about?” 

“Ehehe.”

“What an answer.” Priest clapped sarcastically, clasping their hands together in their priest wear. Simple and modesty to the swamps royal purple. 

European rulers hated us. {Elizabeth}

“Well let's get to work.” Preistest chirped, “I have some task for you to help out in medical research, I told you during the Eclipse funeral festival.” 

Some people refer to it as a peekaboo festival during the day people thought the sun died, and the religion was separated in interpretations of whether necromancy was ok.

“Right” If I could remember from yesterday in church, that one thing he might've told me over the music before jazzing…

‘The life, and uniqueness from the dark abstraction that light gives. Let the firefly guide your power in your worth and uniqueness.’...‘There is peace to being hidden with the shade the sun gives us, as its creature we see in the dark that glows that guide us.’

It was a great festival, that's all I remember with all the food.

I follow down the triangular top-cut sandwich steps. With two moons I bet it can have glasses. Or would that be a werewolf and some random werefox? Are werefoxs moon or astroid adjacent, or would that be another mammal? Would it be wrong to use two cobblestone rocks as sunglasses? {with the deities of the moon in mind…}

Twirling a round to the first portrait, and some candles. I sometimes sit there in an abandoned church stairwell. But I haven't been hanging out with coffin-eyes for some time, abroad in all. Not that I lived by her place.

With each step, I hardly pass a glance at the stained glass window, but the sun rises seeping the stairs like pink blazes for the next stained window. 

We pass each one, more contrast, more cold, more warm. Nature, Sea, Deserts, Mobs in rays.

My legs hurt. If I haven't been doing this for a while- Ayooo! 

Hehe, I'm sounding like the witch Covetouss… Is that a title like the Head of a coven leader? 

We're here, lovely wood and the moist air of moss. Closed? This is the first time I've even been this far, and I've only ever seen this door from the outside.

“Come along now” The priest calls me over.

Tailing behind the priest, they seemed farther along, looking behind me I gave a small wave.

Ok, I take it back my calves are just aching.

Oh The Red Stained sun, overseeing poacher’s weapons and hunter’s weapons.

My shoe touched a small water puddle, that sticks a little to my shoes. They don't stick on the walls, but it is probably the lighting. 

I lower my head, glancing at the window. Staring at it, blankly, would I ever have to deal with one?

The door creaks open, only hear an echo of my mentor's boots with the metal shackle clanking only so quietly. We did pass the cobblestone gate fence with a lock, I didn't think I'd have to go down for more steps. 

Nor did I think how spacious it sounded, this isn't a cave, and from the outside by the stained glass… This way was invisible. 

Best be moving. I hear the slow footsteps up the stairs, It's probably the janitor with the way they usually take each of their steps and the bucket clanking with water.

The cut and clean cobblestone embedded with dirt in between the cracks of the cellar, I wonder if there’s wine.

Speed walking by the priest, I re-adjusted my book, only tailing behind the priest. Their tails swish more like water, or one of a snake.

 Why have I been smelling iron so strongly? 

I can see the end of the tunnel, outside in peace. Two rugged men crouching down to the perched horned man.

“The cold makes it burn.”

Ah, they're here because they need help adjusting to being a Graveager. Being blessed into a Graveager after a Ravager’s isn't for everyone, cause why enjoy grieving? I mean there are solemn holidays and moments. 

I’m not one to know.

Being born one might be natural, with some slight adjusting to turning into just an illager. I was too lazy to figure that out until I was convicted. {-Convention AbuDhabi in April * If you don't see a illager cardboard head(InJireiKei), I just failed <3}

I gaze lower to see their clothes; a simple light grey that contrasts his gray skin. The belt is buttoned with a skull button with crossing shovels.

A Mourge’s worker. Not an unusual pick, I guess that would make sense. I just don’t particularly know a lot of morgues workers

I look at the priest, with the sun-shaded light scruffing the opening of the gate, butterflies tasting rotting leg. shacklet up, and under a sheet of fabric.

They looked up at me, the green eyes looked dull, with dry cheeks, if only for the priest to want to see that man cry, but butterfly demons tempt one to enjoy blood.

It seems you're feeding the butterflies well. ‘They seem more like parasites now’ would be a great response… If they knew Gibberish, as some foreigners would say. 

My tail touches a stick, clanking with the metal spike at its head. I look back... Straight to the chained illager.

Their hand looks bruised, and the rope in the side of the room's open cell is scratched up and bloodied.

Harpoons are usually used for a whale modded into the ocean.

The cell, raw stone with moss eats the blood on the dirt floor.

The bony ribcage was broken, it looked like the aftermath of a falling ceiling filled with slimy bloodied worms spilled over the dust of rocks. Or at least their broken bones.

My nose has been scrunching from the smell, I don't know the spell that makes someone withstand rotting alive. You have to be a zombie for that.

And they have horns, a bitten-off tail, and tusks. Their clothes were slightly ripped and tightened around their body. Making their blood from small scratches pulse out unless it became puss. Did they fall in a thorn patch?

The priest decides to answer.

“Poachers deserve to suffer, it's a curse sometimes.” They rummage through their sleeve, “Well unless they mess with someone who curses. Then what are you going to do.”

Exp fell to the ground to my shined shoes. My shoulders flinch up dropping my book on the exp. I quickly picked it up and slid on the smooth stone back. 

The fireflies on my robe brightened, as I rubbed off the exp on my robe. Holding the book on my side.

This was a little more terrifying and better than letting foreign doctors and archeologists have our ancestor's bones to keep.

The priest got out a small journal. Pulling their sleeves string, closing it back again with water books that don't seem to poke out. Comfortable sleeves that seemed cushion thats for sure.

It hurts a little, that I still hear panting. The breathy and tired voice easily reached the small enclosed space. If I were a priest, I’d never have the control to use an undying totem for torture, if only the Evokers worry that they'd be a slightly different person.

“So Ghost Nurse, could you remove the stomach guts thing”

… I looked around, and just placed my book by the harpoon.

I yanked the organs, It was so warm.

“...I feel like the witch would've told you even basic of wearing a glo- I'll get the gloves,”

The priest sighed, and left to get it for me, I think. I don’t trust my assumptions. On what they said, forgetting it like a mist spritz in the nether.

Staring blankly, cracking the top back of my neck to the cellmate… The groaning sound not coming from this poacher.

 I continue to lay out the guts. It's so much more squashed inside a person. Through the iron bars, I saw The morgue worker clutching their stomach.

-1696 Words {it did change depending on wich fanfiction site I used}

It was supposed to be more than 200... Not more than 1222!Idk how I did this over one day of school, but I kept on placing pacing scenes. I had more fun when we reached into the tunnels.So for my own critique of not being able to do well using an oc introduction prompt. I should've started passing by the red stained glass, and gutspill scene... and organized the guts n all. They are an oc that came out of a cosplay in an illager head with jerai kei dress i just adore {the robe one sold out so cute skirt it is}

… Is it bad i wanna ship the gravedigger with the poacher as long as I give the poacher some complex sad story? XD

Honestly, when writing the mourge worker I thought. What if they were connected, in some way? And the dudes got some soul-connected thing with him, they both might've died and the undying totem was used at the same time. HAh!  You can you have your own interpretations <3

Trick Or Treat

{: Which chapters are delightful or wich are dreadful:}

Bitten candy

Frozen music

Or bloodspill-filled pie

The blood might be dirty from being scooped out of the ground

{Warning: Titles may be misleading and arnt promised}

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

this is how the cold war ended

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

DEar minecraft Diary #1

Sum: suggestive things with hands, and my problems with myself

why have i been making Villager x Illager cowboy have a hand sex sequel after a concept idea of 2 chapters.

the 2 chapters arnt even made yet, i only wrote the introductory of why they need to have hand sex its like heat but if it was realistic.

Why must i be the type who makes more awsome concept <3 i need to force myself into more time limited writinf to pump out trash, my adhing brain needs to functionion on vXi dopamine

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Take a bite out of my sight

Chapter Summary

Next Page ±±±±

Highland breezes by the counting of the afternoon, as a turquoise-dressed figure herded a few baby goats spawning by the edge of the cliff.

Downwards off the rocky blanketed cliff, theirs a bump of forest filled with cherry trees, with a shoveled pathway leading downwards to the more paved mountain on a graveled pathway.

Birch and oak Trees were forest coloured the greenery. with a few axes and a small meadow opening that only shows a building exoskeleton of stone pillars. black blocky ravens flew up to the trees.

Down onto the big gradient cobblestone staircase for many donkeys and villagers to get around. with the scratching of a cat running away from the bottom of the stairs messing with hooves of the donkey to yelp and kneel to the dismay but worry of the two villagers handling the donkey. You'd always need to take a step down touch a graze of grass, or look closer into a pond, with ramps for carrying a ravaged ton without them rolling down. But that wouldn't hurt the ravager that much unless you tell the ravager to feel pain from it.

Scattered laughing and the echo in the timbered trees by those with axes who aren't lumberjacks in flannel having a gay ol' time. Those with axes had different attires.

Another echo of the scuttled laugh follows the rumbling echo of the tree, causing a packager to drop a package.

Onlookers were sitting at the balconied rosewood fences, with the far right being oak with decorated bleachers of vines. watch the poor package delivery villager trip in the middle of the village, with the ominous shading of darkness from the forest sending a shiver to the packager when the high branches were cracking from something bigger.

The bristles of branches break from the omen-striking banner. Those that fell on top of the indicator head were pushed off, or thrown away by intricately cuffed gloves of vexes. Escaping the branching in the clearing, and looking around into the forest before the eye moves up to a well-built wall... Carved out beautifully.

The Villager Unemployed mob, with mountain patterns on their robe and a brown collar to signify unemployment, sits at a single table by their fenced balcony. They were sitting at a single table by the fenced balcony, peeking out to greet a banner. Cracking their glasses, were metal 'armour' for the banners edgs against wind.

"Heugh," The Vindicator looks straight up, at a Villager's sharp eyes at the leaning by the wall, arms crossed. Their collar was based on pink terracotta, and their tool belt signified business ownership with their emerald. And as many smart working business owners who got to the top. They speed-walked up the stairs, grabbing the Pakager collar as other villagers looked on.

The Villagers stay seated, looking across at each other at the dragged packager. Pity, the package might have been important. Servagers go on with their job, with a shiver and frozen body realization too. Well if you were the one serving pie to the client who ordered 'Goats Rasberry Eye' and 'Demonic Goats Eye Pried' if everyone needed to pretend they were demons when fae came around and burnt (Not on purpose like most cheesecake, but they aren't allowed to tell you that).

"Uhm, it, may I get you a glass of ice."

The metal bridge of pushing back their glasses, the clank of the platter of pie, chair shoved back. The Servager boots clacked away with dust or dirt clattered behind them, as the villager's knee bent down next to the fence to reach down like a snake to a messenger crow.

A ravager horn drops, but the Vindicator's eyes widen at the villager pulling up their face. Launching their mouth right underneath their inner eye, like mice, and then there was a snap. The illager's right brain felt like shutting off from all senses.

The Villagers moved themselves back from the fence to the sun over the forest horizon. The trickle of blood fell down their cheek even more as the string of meaty blood dangled in the breeze in between a Villagers teeth.

A clank of glass filled with ice reflected onto the sun, and it reflected onto the goat's horn. The passing Servagor freaked out, stepping back at the unconventional rage.

With fear pressing the Vindicator's throat, like prey. They ended up holding themselves in the air, the fear in their eye visible to all who could see. On the horizon, the small swaying of the trees mimicked the sticky string of blood that hung from their high cheekbones. The fear in their eye, the little trickle of trees mimics the stickier bloodied string.

Cherry blossoms burned on their face, unlike a sunburnt crisp Illager, unlike them they still look like a delighted Illager in warmed tones of fear of the serpent's sun.

Wedding bells ring in their head, as they wobble down on the saddle, back arched up and elevating their head by the bite. arched up and elevated their head by the bite. [In a bar they wonder why the bell was rung.’]

They felt a grasp on the neck of a snake untangling themselves from their chokehold to take a deep breath. Their adrenaline heated up to their cheeks. The salty tears fall with pressure and pain trying so hard to let tears go out that it pains them. They continued to bleed, the red liquid dripping down to their saddle and under their shin to the strapped belt of their formal Indicator attire. dripped down to their saddle and under their shin to the strapped belt of their formal indicator attire.

Everything seems to be tinted by rose gradients, from their face to the horizon gradient. The colder breeze passed them and they couldn't feel the sun's heat on the back of their head. The Illager had held their hand to their cheek, coating their glove. Deadpanned silence with the munching of the forest life hunger, watching the villager take a bite out of the pie.

They felt like a fox that never wanted the crow to drop their own eye. Watching that Villager through the pink fence, waiting for a response, they had watched them take a bite out of an eye. Realizing they subconsciously reached for their chest to clench, wrinkling their clothes. Being able to hear their panting and winds noisy breeze. Their flushed faces moved from tint to tint, in fading shades of doozies from their flushing face flushing out more blood them.

Observing the architectural stonework, the chairs seemed inspired by dessert temple creepers' drawings, the sunset looked like it was tempered by the sunset.

Gulping down some saliva, feeling drier than the blood staining their saddle, they arched themselves back from picking up their goat horn

Their Ravager looked up at their rider, turning around and walking back into the shrubbery of the forest, paying no mind to the banner scraping the fence on the wall. The Illager tightly adjusted themselves back onto their ravager and held the reins. Seeming like an amateur rider.

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Totems de todas las especies inteligentes de mimecraft

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

lovely drawings <3

Minecraft OCs!! Villagers, Illagers, and a Witch:)

Minecraft has been consuming me.. They are consuming my conscience help me 😭😭

I even have my own Illager lore n stuff augggggggh

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Great minecraft fic for me

*helps a bug outside so people don't kill it*

*flash forward and I'm convicted of a crime I didn't commit*

*no lawyer touches the case for me*

*everyone hears a buzz and turns around*

*the bug is wearing a tiny suit with a tiny suitcase and becomes my defense attorney*

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

I wrote my oc having a dream being an illager father in a found family with a teenage piglin, and they had sleepwalked over to another wolf bloodying in ketchup the pig in the pen that they've treated like a cat jumping into their trashcan.

Waking up have werewolf form, muddled out of their mind being caught defending themselves, "Why cant you let me hug my child in blood." A pig that they have shown dislike to and accidentally gotten parental attatchemnts from a dream. Of being a 40-something-year-old illager, bu really being a villager teen. Everyone was so confused to the sound, this would make an awsome, actual "It was all a dream" which was the friend we made along the way