#mysnippets

[aliferous-ly]

A ghost haunted season 10. Certainly not a malicious one, if a bit mischievous - and one had to keep a careful eye out to catch him.

Jevin heard him first, deep underground. He was hunting iron, early in the season, and he was having the worst luck. He even looked up where iron should be, to make sure the updates hadn't changed anything! Alas, the iron evaded him. Jevin might have to resort to begging and then jump straight to a farm.

And he kept hearing these crackly, faint snickers. At first he thought he'd been on a voice channel accidentally, but, no, his comm wasn't connected. Then, just to make sure, he disconnected it entirely - but the laughter prevailed. Jevin chalked it up to too many sleepless nights, and went to find an overachieving hermit already building an iron farm.

Stress heard him next, but as someone who heard murmuring monsters on a good day, she didn't give it a second thought. Clear as day she heard an, "oh, bugger." She thought, you and me both, monster, before going along with her day.

Then it was Xisuma, though he didn't hear anyone, he saw. It was a mere glimmer out of the corner of his eye. White hair, stout, pickaxe slung lovingly over a shoulder. When he looked back there was nothing. He resolved to run diagnostics on his helmet, because something was clearly haywire.

And in Joel's defense, he was both exhausted and brand new to hermitcraft. It wasn't like people had nametags on, they were a group of friends! So when an old man grumbled by, lost as could be within the shopping district, Joel furrowed his brows but ultimately was too tired to ruminate. He overheard the man saying something about shroomlights and called out, "Tango has the permit, but he doesn't have a shop up yet!"

The man startled, muttered something about "permits?" before scuttling off like a spooked horse. Joel shrugged. It was called hermitcraft, after all. There had to be loads of people he hadn't met yet.

Small instances added up. Scar fell asleep making a tree, hidden amongst the branches, and was spooked awake by the sound of a player dying. But when he checked his comm, nothing showed up. A dream, he thought uneasily.

I just need sleep, Tango thought.

Wow, someone's wearing a sick costume, Skizz thought. Too bad I'm too busy to go chat right now!

Who's messing with my hourglass now? Doc thought. Only, there wasn't anyone else on the server at the time. Probably an armor stand prank.

It all came to head when Hypno stumbled across his fifth stripmine in one mining session. He rolled his eyes, because of course Wels had created tunnels beneath Hypno's place just to be a nuisance. Except when he pointed it out to Wels, who was on call with Hypno but was busy caving, Wels expressed confusion.

"I've only made one or two strip mines. And they're not near you," Wels said.

Hypno saw a wisp of white hair turning a corner. "Haha, very funny, Wels. Come on out."

"I'm not joking?" Wels said in confusion. In the same beat he got the achievement for sneaking successfully past a shrieker for the first time and Hypno was far too high up to be near an ancient city.

"Maybe it's someone else?" Hypno murmured, checking who was online. Grian and Joel, who were having their own shenanigans blowing up the comms (it involved TNT, so the blowing up was quite literal). Impulse had just left. Etho, who could be a contender if Hypno didn't know he'd fallen asleep at the post office three hours ago. Plus, what sort of prank would this be, from Etho?

He explored the endless strip mines and got so lost that he had to dig his way up. When he mentioned the strangeness to Keralis, the man lit up and exclaimed that he'd found the same thing, how weird was that, huh?

Hypno investigated. If there was a bug in the world he'd need to know.

"You know, it might not be a bug," Cleo said meaningfully. They fidgeted with a tear in their clothes.

"What else would it be?" Hypno asked, mystified.

"Maybe it's a player. You know. Someone we never removed from the whitelist."

Cleo raised an eyebrow. It wasn't in their nature to beat around the bush, but at the same time they didn't want to act crass. Not for this.

Tentative realization trickled through Hypno. He nodded and abruptly left, unsure how to feel.

The information spread slowly through the rest of the server. Joe took to leaving boxes of torches and iron pickaxes about, and every so often would have to refill them. He didn't ask, but everyone swore they hadn't been stealing. Who would need an iron pickaxe at this point, anyway?

One night, Cub let off a slew of fireworks that were spherical and solid green. He heard a faint chuckle on the breeze, and raised a drink in quiet salute.

So, yes. A ghost haunted season 10. But ghost haunting had such a negative connotation, didn't it? The hermits, if they spoke about him at all, much preferred to call him the True Hermit who never left.

[the-desert-beast]

The adrenaline violently coursed through his veins.

Eyes fierce and wild, wounds bleeding, his gargantuan prey frenzied and frightened, he finally felt alive. The creature in front of him was bleeding badly, hamstrung, wounded, he and his companion had been toying with it. His taloned gauntlets dripping with his prey's blood, he aimed another precise, violent slash at it's neck.

It recoiled, a furious guttural sound leaving it's throat.

Snapping it's jaws at The Beast, Paola took the chance and lunged, biting as hard as she possibly could on it's wounded leg. The thing's serpentine neck squirmed before whipping around to grip Paola in it's deadly jaws, but she was already gone.

The Beast took the opportunity to deal the final blow; ripping it's throat open.

One last spasm, a death rattle, and the massive Hydra fell limp, bleeding out into the sands of the desert. He looked over the work of himself and his companion. (”Too easy.”) he thought to himself, more in empty dissatisfaction than in anything resembling “proud.“

The adrenaline subsided. The blood dried. He felt empty, again.

He crouched down in front of the creature's mouth, carefully removing two of it's most fearsome fangs. One, a personal trophy, the second, Paola's newest toy. And after skinning some of it's remaining usable hide and taking the more intact, and delicious cuts of meat, his mind began to wander on the walk back.

He thought of nothing particularly coherent.

His and his tiger's footfalls left prints behind in the soft warm sands.

He thought of when he used to feel something.

The warm sands gave way to harder sandstone, dirt and grasses.

He thought of how useless, meaningless, all this- being alive, felt.

Hours had passed.

Stuck in his head, his feet lead him down the rest of the path back home instinctively.

He thought of the ways he'd numb himself again.

Usually, he'd feel some amount of relief upon entering his lovingly cluttered home.

The amber light of his favorite lanterns hanging from the ceiling illuminated the red, orange, and gold colors of loved trinkets and fabrics strewn about the house.

He looked over his extravagant bed, cluttered with all manner of patterned throw pillows, a few larger deep red pillows he'd actually use. The black sheets were unmade- Had been that way, for two weeks now. It had been a long time since he cared to relax.

His trophy cabinet stocked full of fallen foe's fangs, horns, scales, furs, armor, jewelry- It all felt like nothing as of late.

His liquor cabinet, filled with his favorite, very expensive whiskeys, rums, and a few wines, was the most used thing in his house. This was always the case, but it was a hindrance during weeks like these.

No relief came.

He put everything from his hunt in it's rightful place, threw Paola her new toy- which she happily caught, wandering off to curl up in her favorite sun-tanning spot. His mind had turned against him the moment he had killed his latest hunt and the fight had ended.

Huffing a sigh, grabbing his medicinal supplies, he mended his wounds with the bare minimum. Disinfecting with his favorite alcohol, taking a swig, wrapping them in bandages that he'd remove sooner than he should. He could feel nothing. He washed, dried, and polished his custom-made gauntlets. Only danger felt like anything these days.

This sort of habit had become far too common as of late. He couldn't make himself care whether he lived or died. (”What would Zefiro think of me, if he caught me thinkin' like this- In this state.“) he thought to himself, pained at the thought of Zef worrying over him- Worse yet, scolding him.

Rolling his shoulders, a habit of his, he attempted to banish the worst of his thoughts from his mind. He sipped more of his favorite whiskey straight from the bottle.

Too tired to hunt anything else.

Not the kind of tired that allowed for sleep.

He could think of only one reprieve;

more alcohol, and sex.

[vorbe-goale]

Am inteles in sfarsit de fapt ce inseamna expresia — "nu pot trai fara tine". Nu e vorba de moarte, nu; nu voi muri fara tine. Voi trai, dar viata nu va fi la fel de frumoasa. Nu ma voi trezi dimineata cu aceeasi fluturi in stomac asteptand sa ne intalnim, sa vorbim si nu voi mai face nicio activitate cu atat de multa placere. Nu voi mai zambi deodata, mergand pe strada, gandindu-ma la momentul acela cand m-ai facut sa rad. Nu voi mai radia de fericire. Nu. Pentru ca nu va exista fericire fara tine, dupa tine, ci doar o viata monotona; voi trai doar ca sa traiesc, dar nu voi trai cu adevarat. Am realizat ca "nu pot trai fara tine" inseamna a trai fara motiv, degeaba.

vorbe-goale

[a-detour]

Finally found the perfect body bronzer @ #VictoriasSecret in sunkissed! No orangey tints here;) plus the coconut scent is amazing! (Taken with Instagram)

[moapp-blog]

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[aliferous-ly]

BdoubleO was not, what one might say, a quiet man. He ranted and raved better than anyone, thank you very much! He was the ultimate spokesperson! Beloved far and wide-

Anyway. He certainly wasn't ashamed of it. His friends teased him good-naturedly about it, of course, but he was Bdubs. He could take it. He could take anything! He and his Big-Eyed crew, those silly fools, he loved em so much.

So, no. Bdubs was not, by nature, quiet.

But when the moon bore down on him, everything crumbling to pieces as gravity reversed, the video message to Tango gone and sent -

All he could do was stand, dead silent, and stare.

[aliferous-ly]

xB paused at Gem's lighthouse, smiling at the circling fish. The water theme that Gem and Grian were leaning into made xB happy and slightly homesick, so he enjoyed stopping by their docks every now and again.

Gem seemed to be being taken by the sea, to xB's delight. She didn't always have the same perspective, finding random scales bothersome.

Grian smelled constantly of seaweed and salt. xB had found him standing perfectly still, knee-deep, and staring at the surface with a predator's gleam.

xB sighed fondly. The ocean destroyed most who wandered haplessly into her embrace.

He couldn't wait to see if they'd make it out the other side alive.

[aliferous-ly]

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zedaph said primly. Without missing a beat he adjusted the truly heinous glasses on his head. "I've always had these."

Tango laughed so hard he fell over. Zedaph preened.

"Those are - so perfect," Tango wheezed, as he wobbled upright. "Do you have an extra pair?"

"Of course I do," Zedaph said, voice thick with offense. "Do I have another pair. Honestly, Tango, it's like you don't know me at all."

Tango mhm'd through his giggles.

"In fact, I seem to have some on me right now," Zedaph said, and as the grand finale, he whipped out a second pair that was alike in all ways except one: this one was orange.

"Oh, my god," Tango gasped. He took them reverently and set them on his nose like they were made of gold. "Zed, you're perfect."

"I know, I know," Zedaph said. He grinned toothily. "Now, would you happen to know where Impulse is?"

"Nope! But for you, my friend, I will find out!" Tango said. His whole face lit up as he went to type in his communicator. The glasses were obnoxious enough that they kept getting in the way, and Zedaph giggled.

Soon, they'd be a whole parade of terrible fashion. Zedvancement I can('t) see clearly now almost complete!

[aliferous-ly]

Gem kicked her legs absentmindedly. She sat at the edge of a cliff on a random world, scrolling through Pinterest and humming. She was, at this point, wholly human - ten fingers, ten toes, not a speck of antler to be found.

She groaned in annoyance and fell backwards. The clouds, unbothered by her frustration, floated gently in the far-away breeze.

"Maybe I'll just make a dragon," she said aloud. She puffed air to move her bangs out of her face, and when that didn't work she pushed them aside with a huff.

"A big dragon that breathes ice, a big dark castle... Deepslate for sure, Blackstone, maybe some purple..."

She pictured a dragon-person Gem. Gilded horns would adorn her skull, winding up to a sharp point. She'd have slitted eyes, sharp teeth, and rough-dry scales crawling up her back. Something deep purplish, maybe blue, maybe red.

She scowled and reopened her eyes. The clouds remained floating in their unencumbered way. She was close, but not quite there.

Gem sat back up, picked up a stray rock, and launched it off the cliff. It sailed silently until it landed in the ocean's crashing waves with a soft plop. She glared at the ocean, eyeing the way sunlight glinted off the cresting waters and how salt stung her lip where she'd got a cut, somehow.

Then her expression shifted to something more thoughtful. Maybe there was something to this ocean idea...

[aliferous-ly]

"Woah, dude, is that Perry the Platypus?" Ren said, lifting his sunglasses off his head and squinting, two very conflicting actions if Stress had anything to say on the matter.

But also, Stress had just placed the final block and was literally standing on top of Perry's hat.

"...no?" Stress tried. She fluttered her elytra wings and grinned, even though Ren was way on the ground and probably couldn't see.

"Hmmm," Ren said. He snapped his glasses back onto his nose.

Stress decided to glide down so she didn't have to shout. She adjusted the flowers around her neck and settled delicately beside Ren. He wisely didn't mention how she nearly toppled over.

"Well, yes, it is Perry," Stress said. "He just goes where he wants, yeah?"

"An independent platypus," Ren agreed. He cocked his head.

"It quite matches the decor," Stress added.

Ren, to his credit, just snickered.

[aliferous-ly]

Once, False cut herself on her own sword.

Accidentally, of course. The type of fumble that could have happened to anyone. She cursed more at the mess than the pain and pressed a cloth to the wound.

Inside her house and everything. She clicked her tongue in annoyance as she ran the cut under the faucet, cleaning and wrapping it with brutal efficiency. She sighed heavily through her teeth and tightened the bandage.

A dramatic knock rang on the door. If that didn't clue her to the knocks owner, the following, "False!" sung in a deep baritone would have.

"Come in, it's unlocked," False called. The door flung open. She grinned with teeth. "Hiya, Ren."

"False, I simply must tell you - is that blood?" Ren paused, his eyebrows furrowed above his sunglasses. "Why is there blood on your floor? And table? And tablecloth, False, Stress will be so upset!"

"Ah. I cut m'self," False said. She gestured to her wrapped forearm. A bit of red had seeped through enough to show.

"Right," Ren said slowly. His head swiveled from the stains, still liquid and shining, to her arm, to the sink, the edges of which were dotted with pink smudges. "Falsie, that's a lot of blood. Are you good? Did it hurt? I have - no, I don't have any potions. I can get some though."

"Yes it is, I'm good, didn't hurt much, and I'm fine," False listed off. She leaned back on the counter and gave a thin lipped smile. "Just need a spot of cleaning, that's all."

"Whatever you say, False!" Ren said, and he barreled forward with whatever speech he'd started on the way in.

False nodded at all the right points, humming and agreeing. But in the back of her mind she was thinking about being a young thing learning the sword. How training wouldn't be kind, the swords upgraded from wood to steel sooner than they should have, and how she was required to treat her body like a machine to keep in tact.

She let the memories fade in the grandeur of Ren's voice. The past was the past. And now, apparently, she had a prank to commit.

[aliferous-ly]

As a joke, Cleo positioned themself on a blank armor stand and posed. Due to their less than human attributes they could attain unnatural stillness, of which they took full advantage.

It worked perfectly. Joe meandered through their base, bypassed Cleo entirely, and they jumped out at him. He shrieked loud enough to worry the neighbors, if the hermits were the sort of neighbors to worry about wayward shrieks. Which, of course they weren't, if hermits took notice of every yell they'd never get anything done.

Cleo cackled. It was perfect. Joe said they blended in real well with the other armor stands, y'know, they really had a talent!

Cleo bowed playfully. All in all, great prank, 11/10, would try again.

Because there wasn't a single part of them disconcerted by just how well the prank had worked. They weren't that good. They weren't a decoration.

So! Since everything was great and they felt great about it, they were definitely going to try for the next hapless hermit to grace their door.

[aliferous-ly]

Tango knew he was walking to his death.

How could he not? Practically no hearts to speak of plus Scar pretty much always equaled, brzzzt, you're donezo, buster. Burning the earth and everything.

There was a world, somewhere, where Scar didn't take the easy kill. Where Scar's fury at being spurned channeled on something else. Maybe even where Scar joined the Heart Foundation when they'd asked, instead of moaning about being friendless several sessions later.

Or maybe there wasn't.

Maybe there was just Tango, standing precariously on the world, and Scar, ripping it out from beneath him.

In the half breath before hitting the ground Tango wasn't mad. He just sighed and thought yep, there it is. Because even then he knew that loyalty, in this horrific death game where nothing went right, always, always killed.

[aliferous-ly]

Keralis made kissy faces in their direction. Jevin was immediately on guard, because void below were people affectionate in this world. xB snickered and blew a kiss back.

"Goodbye, princesses!" Keralis said.

"Nope, nope, nope," Jevin announced.

They laughed as Jevin stoutly flew away, fireworks in hand. Their voices faded behind the wind.

Later, he came across Hypno, who was flat on his back and staring at the sky with a thousand block stare. A large hole and scattered debris lay next to him.

"Y'alright there, bud?" Jevin said.

"Oh, you know," Hypno said. He sighed heavily.

Jevin, uncertain, pat him twice on the shoulder. "There, there."

Hypno snorted. "The famous Jevin affection."

"Hey, now!" Jevin said, but he wasn't really offended. The hermits respected his dislike for physical touch, but of course they teased him about it like any other group of friends. "Uncalled for, next time I won't stop by!"

Hypno smiled. "Hey, you busy? Wanna prank someone?"

Unbothered by the quick subject change, Jevin grinned. "Do I always."

Hypno's grin turned mischievous, and he sat up with intent. "Okay, so--"

Jevin listened with growing excitement. Absently, Hypno wiped some residual slime off his shoulder.

[aliferous-ly]

Beef wouldn't say he'd been possessed by TCG. It was a silly thought anyhow - how could someone be possessed by a card game? Anytime someone expressed concern, he waved them off. Yes, Hermitcraft had a tendency to seep into it's players minds like untrimmed vines, crawling along, fed boundlessly by their games and blood. But Beef kept cool. He was chill.

So no, Beef wouldn't say he'd been possessed. But he'd be lying if joining season 10 hadn't felt like jumping into a crystal cold pond with its invigorating freshness. And he'd be remiss if he implied that becoming a reaper hadn't felt comforting.

Whispers touched at the edges of his mind.

It felt a little like coming home.

[aliferous-ly]

X knew he was lucky. Not many people had such a large family of friends, willing to move from one world to the next but remaining neighbors all the same. With such a large group they needed a spokesperson and Xisuma was willing, but they all met regularly and voted on changes. The others helped with other administrative duties and all in all, Xisuma's luck might never run dry. Every season had been perfect, fun, exhilarating.

Except... for season 8, of course. But that was a fluke. The Void had been angry with them, though X still wasn't sure why, and then the moon destroyed...

Xisuma shook his head. Season 8 was in the past. They were in season 10, now, with fresh blood - Skizz and Joel were perfect additions, it was no surprise the vote for their additions were unanimous. Xisuma was pretty sure Gem planned to smuggle Skizz in if it wasn't.

Either way. Xisuma took a step back from the building holding his merry band of idiots. He set his hands on his hips and smiled.

It was a new season. Nothing could go wrong.