#BE WARNED.

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 3: season 5 or chase

Hypno pants, grabbing the last cooked pork chop he'd managed to pilfer from Jevin's shop at spawn and tearing into it with his teeth. He's bleeding from his forehead, and he's hungry, but he can't stop running yet. The distant howling is forever getting closer, and the moment they flush him into a plains or a desert or anywhere else open, he's dead. So he has to eat the pork chop now.

Still, that brings his supplies down to an apple he managed to pick up off the ground, three arrows, a flame bow he'd had on him for a minigame, and a fully-enchanted pair of shears named "shearly beloved" that he'd managed to steal at about the same time he'd stolen the pork chop. He's not going to get any of it back.

They've chased him thousands of blocks from spawn, and if there's anywhere they're going to have guarded to stop him from doubling back to, it's there.

If he were... whatever made his friends into this...

There's more howling. His feet are dead. He's in a dark oak forest, so it will be hard for the beasts to catch him, but--he's being herded. He knows he is.

Some of the hermits are beasts now. Some of them--aren't. Some of them are smarter. Those are the ones that are leading the pack.

Those are the ones he's scared of.

He hears more howling in the distance. His heart is pounding. He doesn't know how long he's been running for. He doesn't know how much longer he can keep running. But, distantly, he hears footsteps and howling and the gnashing of teeth, and he knows instinctively that he can't stay here.

He takes a moment to assess his surroundings. He takes another minute to thank Tango-from-Before. Without Decked Out 2, Hypno thinks he would have been caught long before now. He doesn't know what happens when he's caught, except for the fact the first time one of them who became a beast caught up with him, it bit his shoulder, and the wound hasn't stopped bleeding, no matter how many pork chops he ate.

"Pork Chop Power," he mutters to himself like a mantra. Might as well; that was his last one. Then, he runs through the trees, whipping past mushrooms and dark oak branches, occasionally changing directions and doubling back on himself.

Nearby, a fox sees him and darts into a burrow. If only; he'd been driven away from any bases very early on. If he could burrow his way into a base, he could defend himself.

It's where he's trying to get. None of them chasing him should know that. He's trying to find a base. He knows there are remnants this direction, of things like Bdubs's gates or Etho's village. He doesn't know if they remember that, though. He's hoping they don't, and he can get into one of them, and then--

And then--

It's a good question. He's lost his communicator, and he's not sure how he's going to get console access while barricaded inside. He'll figure it out, though. He's good at figuring out things like that.

Another howl.

He doesn't have time to do it now, though. Not when he hasn't had more than twenty minutes of downtime in several days before a beast catches up with him and he has to run again. Not when he can barely catch his breath before sprinting again. He's going to be out of sprint. He's nearly out of arrows.

The howling, the howling, the howling, and he can't run much longer. But he has to. He hasn't seen any of his friends as themselves in so long. And he's an admin; next to Xisuma, not to toot his own horn or anything, he's the best. If he can get enough time to get console access, then he can figure out how to restart the server, restore their player data from backups, and fix this.

His heart pounds. He stumbles over a rock, scraping his hands. The howling follows him. They're--fifteen minutes behind him, maybe? Maybe twenty? He can't rest that long. He needs a longer lead than that. They're always closer than he thinks they are.

And the ones in charge, the ones who can think... they've been trying to drive him somewhere specific. If he had time to think, he'd be able to worry about why they're driving him through the woods when he knows open spaces are far more dangerous for him. If he had time to think, he'd already be out of this, though; with time to think, he'd have time for console access.

He's getting close to somewhere he can hide. He can feel it. So why are they driving him--

There's a sudden blinding pain as he screams. Something--his leg--oh gods--

He collapses to the ground in a moment of white-hot pain. The howling is so loud in the distance. He looks over at his leg and pales.

Around it is clamped some kind of horrible trap. A bear trap, he thinks distantly. Could have sworn those were modded, but since they probably have Once-was-Xisuma among them, it wouldn't be hard to, too--

His leg is bleeding horribly and at a terrible angle, bent around where the trap clamped around his calf. It's a mangled, bloody mess. He thinks he can almost see shards of bone. He feels sick.

The howling gets closer.

Oh gods, is this how it ends? He can't move with the trap around his leg. It's chained to the ground specifically to prevent that. His left leg is useless. He's out of pork chops, and no amount of food-based regen is going to fix it. He's--he's out of options. The howling is getting closer. He only has three arrows and a flame bow and a set of enchanted shears, and he can't escape, and he's bleeding everywhere, and his leg's more crushed than trapped, and--

He can't go anywhere with the trap on his leg.

"I hope you appreciate my pragmatism," he says to the sky. "I hope you appreciate what I'm trying to do for you one day," he says, and he imagines that maybe xB is able to hear it, wherever he is. That'd be nice. xB would then mock Hypno for what he's about to do, which is good, because it's a stupid plan.

Shears can't even have sharpness. It's just efficiency. He doesn't need perfect sharpness, though, and efficiency is going to have to do in a pinch. The bear trap's already crushed the bone in that leg. It doesn't need to be sharp enough to saw through bone when the bone's already basically powder. It just needs to be sharp enough to. To sever. To finish breaking...

And the flame bow. The arrows. He doesn't want to use his last arrows like this. It's a stupid plan. He should--there has to be another way out--

The air gets colder. The howling gets closer. Hypno takes a deep breath. He pulls the shears out and opens them as wide as they'll go, until nothing but the blade is facing downwards onto his leg. He can barely touch it against the wound without it hurting so much he gets dizzy and nauseous. His hands are already slick with blood just from that much.

In his left hand, he leaves the shears. In his right hand, he notches the arrow and waits until it lights aflame.

Gods, he's going to die if he does this, he realizes with a sudden, horrible clarity. He's going to die, and with the server like this, he doesn't know if he'll come back. It will be a stupid death, and the most painful thing he ever does to himself.

But the howling gets closer.

But the howling gets closer.

He can't let them catch him like this.

"I hope you all appreciate what a thing I'm doing for you," he says, his whole body shaking, and then he pulls his bandana off his head and stuffs it in his mouth so he can't scream and give away his location.

In one swift movement, he throws his entire body weight onto the shears, and then the bandana does nothing to stop him from screaming anyway.

For an eternity, the world is white-hot and painful. It is the worst sensation he has ever felt. He can't think. His whole body tries violently to throw him away from the blade he's shoving into an already bleeding wound, but between having the forethought to throw his whole weight onto it and the efficiency enchantments, it's too little too late.

Some horrible, distant part of his brain remembers the arrow.

It's funny. The fire feels so hot and painful that it instead feels cold. The world goes strange and blank. Hypno does what he has to. Hypno finishes the job.

Then, all at once, he's throwing himself away from the bear trap, using both hands to go against his every instinct and hold the arrow to the place where his lower left leg used to be. A trail of blood and viscera follows him. He sobs into the bandana.

He's going to die. He's going to die. He's going to die.

The howling gets closer.

He doesn't have time to bury himself in a hole and die, though. If he does that--well. It will be a death worse than this if he doesn't get up, he tells himself. He's in shock, he tells himself. He's drenched with sweat and blood, and he's missing part of a leg, but--but he can move. He can't run, but he can, he can move, he can--

Can--

He sobs. He doesn't want to die.

He claws himself onto the leg that's working, throwing the shears on the ground. He never wants to see them again. He's shaking. He falls back to his hands. The bushes, the bushes, he can hide in the bushes. He crawls. Is he still leaving a trail of blood? He can't leave a trail. They'll find him if he leaves a trail. He should kick up the leaves behind him. Hide--hide the blood. From the trap.

What if there's another trap in the bushes, he thinks distantly. What if that one clamps shut around his neck?

It would be better than being caught, he tells himself, and he pulls himself into the bushes, and he buries himself with leaves, and he shakes and he leaves the bandana in his mouth to disguise his whimpering as the bleeding, horrible wound of his leg burns hot and cold and he's dizzy and he thinks he throws up onto the bandana but he can't remove it, he can't--

The world goes cold and dark. The howling is here. He hears unnatural footsteps. Sniffing. Then, even more horribly, though the gaps in the leaves, he sees rows and rows of teeth.

The teeth are all he sees, but he will not forget them.

He doesn't know how long he lies dying in the leaves, waiting for the teeth to find out what happened. It's long enough that he goes from dizzy and sick to delirious. He tries, more than once, to spit out or swallow the--thing?--in his mouth, forgetting and re-remembering why it's there. His leg cycles between horrible pain, cold, hot, and nothing at all. Periodically, he sees teeth, and his heart races, and he knows he's going to die.

Something else steps into the woods.

"Pity. We almost had him in this one," says one of them. "Spread out."

The howling gets further away. He thinks--he thinks maybe--

He doesn't know if he can get up, but if he lies here, they will find him, and he will die. He can't--can't quite remember why, but he doesn't want to die. The primal thing in him doesn't want to die, almost exactly the same amount as it wants to finish covering himself with leaves so he dies on his own terms.

He claws to his hands and knees. He'll--he'll figure out how to run from here.

He has to keep running.

Hypno has to keep running.

Because at any moment now, if he doesn't, they will catch him. And he'll cut off every other remaining limb before he finds out what happens next.

[mcytblrsexymen]

seeing our imitators, i feel as though we should add a warning upon our door: this is not a place of honor. this is a place of probably, conservatively, 100 manpower-hours of data entry. be wary, those who attempt to tread our path. if you have friends as wildly enthusiastic about spreadsheets as us go for it but be warned. see our suffering and be warned.

[themetalvirus]

any new followers need to be warned about egghogs and thursday

[morskisir]

im gonna spam reblog everything i think is in character for miss p from this one blog i really love it

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

𝐃����𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑.

Note: This is for every adult user who chooses to consume my content.

Let's skip straight to the point. Master Chef Rose is a minor. Scary!!‼️‼️😱😱😱😱

Alright, seriously though, Rose is a minor.

———

How old?

None of your business, really. However, take into consideration that everything you read and interact with is written by a minor. I'm not trying scare you away or anything or even say that you shouldn't interact with me at all, in fact, please do interact because apparently Tumblr is a place where people don't like to do much and it can make you feel as if it ain't good enough. I quite frankly do not give a rat's ass about discussing NSFW that revolve FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, I'm just warning you.

Let's get into more detail, shall we? (If you're interested)

OP has been writing NSFW for 2+ years – that's what the Internet does to you, snowflakes – and does not intend on stopping. I'm not new to writing fanfiction, I've got the whole gist. I am not telling you to stay off of my page, this is only a warning. You can do whatever you want here – just don't be an ass. Don't be shy to request, Idk who you are or if you're even an adult but usually such things scare the millennials and old Zs off.

There is, however, one thing I would like to ask of you.

Should you choose to follow me on my other socials, I politely ask you not to message me at all (pretty easy, really). Some past events have made me very skeptical of people, so please respect that. This is for your safety and mine which should be pretty obvious. So, my Discord is off limits. I make exceptions for those of 20 and down since the gap isn't too huge, but anyone above the age of twenty is a no-go, at least when it comes to more private interactions such as DM on other socials (goofy convos are exceptions). We can interact in the comment section and reblogs, but that's as far as things will go. Pretty easy to understand, right? Nice!

Anyways, enjoy your stay and happy reading!

[glacierbash]

Actually I’m expanding on my Ysayle post. Spoilers up until endwalker.

But the biggest thing that gets me is ultimately how cruel her death is, compared to haurchefant. Yes. I know haurchefants death is brutal. But also, he doesn’t die alone. He is with the people he loves, with the person he is implied to love comforting him. His sacrifice is immediately soothed and he’s given comfort and reassurance, and his act is one of instinct.

Ysayle does not get that luxury. She does not get estinien and Alphinaud and the WoL surrounding her as she turns to Aether. She doesn’t get a moment where she can say “I’m glad I met you,” her only comfort is saying her final words as she plummets to her death, and frankly? That leaves a bad taste in my mouth! It feels less heroic sacrifice and more “woman who has had EVERYTHING happen from her chooses to off herself because what else is there to do?”

And her death is BRUTAL! I don’t care if there’s no blood, it’s fucking brutal! Pelted by attacks from a Garlean warship, fighting until there’s nothing left in her, and being fucking blown up, and then falling to her death? How is that not horrific! And there’s no chance to mourn her! Everywhere we go we’re reminded that haurchefant was loved by everybody, even you, but there’s no love extended for Ysayle! There’s no way to go “she was a friend,” just tell her story and that’s it. There’s no accounting for the fact she was there JUST as much as Haurchefant, was JUST as steadfast an ally, was JUST as dedicated to the cause as everybody else.

She makes me sad! Her death makes me so fucking bitter! It does not feel right, her sacrifice does not feel right, it makes me uncomfortable and bitter and if that’s what they were intending, then great! But ultimately I don’t think it was.

AND THEN. in the FINAL sequence of endwalker, when you’re walking up the steps and you hear the voices of people speaking? Guess who ISNT there! HINT. ITS NOT HAURCHEFANT.

I do not CARE that Ysayle was at the final boss of the aitiascope and saved us—that isn’t ENOUGH at this point. That doesn’t undo the fact Ysayle is just. Erased from the story. That they act like she didn’t matter or didn’t exist. Her death was unnecessary, and because of that fact, her death feels wrong. We do not get to mourn her, we do not get to acknowledge her, she dies and we move on.

The fucking end.

[ask-keith-the-basement-dweller]

Do you ever want to kick a dummy like a football?

Huh???

What are you on about? What dummy? .....you mean Willow? I don't really...have a reason to do that- (he gave me candy on Halloween so he's already up there in my good books!)

......ohhh you mean slappy, don't you? Well...haven't had the chance to met them yet as they've said...ahem, "I wouldn't eat here even if I grew 10 empty stomachs randomly and was about to die from starvation"......

....yeahh, with that comment and how Boss said they're unpleasant 'but-not-in-the-good-way'....I don't think I'd get along with them too well.

However if I wouldn't kick them like a football, me and sports don't get along that well.

No, I'd fill their dreams with enough nightmares and fake-out waking ups that they'll probably think they're stuck dreaming forever....and ever....

But of course, that's only if they get on my bad side. Heheh :3

[apleiphone2]

if i text you song lyrics and you reply with the lyric video for that song instead of typing the lyrics back n vibin w me i will personally place a cockroach colony inside of your bedsheets

[mannatea]

new blog for writing/fanfic babbling nonsense only: @blorbology

follow if you're interested in my nonsense ramblings about fanfic and writing fanfic.

THAT SAID, any new fics will still be posted here like usual with the links so if you read my stuff/find out about new fics this way and don't care about my ranting and raving: don't worry nothing will change!

[feefal]

Viral infection Miku

[schistcity]

ohhh… you guys are like… STUPID stupid

[chickenhoops]

Sorry for double posting but APPARENTLY those commission scammers have showed up on Tumblr at least for the first time for me.

For those who don’t know what I am talking about, there were/are commission scams going on in Instagram and even places like Artstation where people would pretend to be interested in your work and try to commission a pet or portrait for the sake of trying to get your bank details. Here’s how to (somewhat) sniff them out:

1- They don’t seem to be an average customer/ person that would be involved in your fandom, or has a blank template for an account or don’t even follow you.

2- They ask you to draw a portrait or a pet picture either for themselves or their children/family.

3- They promise to overpay you (in the hundreds) and do not listen to you even if you firmly state the price is cheaper.

4- They are constantly asking for your email name, or private details regarding things like banking details or passwords or other private information others should not know.

5- They try and over reassure you they mean no harm, try to guilt you into giving them the info, or become aggressive over you not giving them what they want.

What should you do if you come across one of these guys? My best advice is to block and report. Sadly these people jump account to account so there isn’t really much to do other than spread this info to prevent artists from being scammed.

[where-the-tumbleweed-plays]

Tumbleweed needs everyone to know that I am his most cruel and heartless mother for decreasing the amount of food he gets due to him gaining a third again his body weight over the last year no that is not all fur Tumbleweed you are shaped like a pregnant sheep!

He has spent much of the day stomping from room to room while yelling his immense displeasure.

[kensatou]

i'll let phie-san say it:

[arrimorr]

The Knight is a bit weird under his armor. I would say that's it's not even an armor but a chitinous shell