#Ew it's Lore

[sneegsnags-mailbox]

(He finally talked to the Keepers about his dwindling sanity. But, all they did was once again, talk cryptic bullshit messages and disappear in a thick black smog. Something about needing more research about his sanity and how letting him roam other servers could help. Shit.)

(His growing groan turned into a scream of frustration, accompanied by a few squeaks of fury. There's a reason why he hated those bastards, and this is why. No information, constant riddles, and just overall ambiguous morals and motives. He fidgeted with his ring, just wanting to go home and see family and old friends.)

(Then, an idea struck him. Usually, those ideas are about how to upgrade his machines, but this one was about another strange machine that appeared not long ago; the mailbox. Phil had one so maybe he could contact other people, even if they're just random people to turn into penpals. He made a break for the mushroom island he called home, taking an old piece of paper out of his inventory and started writing while flying. He's a couple hundred blocks up, he's not going to crash, he hopes at least.)

Hello whoever or whatever this reaches!

The name is Sneeg, and I'm currently stuck on a server. It sucks, and I am losing my mind. I work on big mob farms, and just need someone to write to to keep my sanity at the moment. :) Hopefully this doesn't reach an admin of this server or this mailbox is going to get blown up probably. And don't try to reach my server, you'll get stuck too. :/

-Sneegsnag

(Thump. Headfirst into one of his own machines. The ticks of damage spooked him, fumbling for his water bucket to break the fall he was taking. Crash! That didn't work, and took 5 hearts- half of his health gone in a second- and it hurt. His head pounded as he came to his senses, sitting up to examine what the hell happened.)

(Edwarto. Yep, that giant tower of goddamned nether wart. Looking up, there was a dent in the soul sand, where he faceplanted. His concerned face turned into nothing but laughter at the dent, a Sneeg looking outline that looked like something out of an old cartoon. He wiped some soul sand off of his face, remembering what he needed to do. Right, that mailbox. He thought to himself as he stumbled over to the redstone contraption, still slightly disoriented from his comedic tumble. Guess I shouldn't fly distracted anymore. He thought, laughing in his head as he folded the letter and slid it into another folded paper.)

(He put a stamp on the letter, a blue spade with little black stars around it, cute. Stamps were in a barrel next to the mailbox, gifted to him with it. Who even placed this here? Who knows, maybe Scott, he's talked about a mailbox before, even though they barely interacted. Different sleep schedules and Scott's been busy off on another server. Maybe he'll ask him about this stuff when he shows up eventually.)

(Sneeg eagerly slips the letter inside the contraption and presses the button. Tick tick tick tick, click! The little noises the machine makes has his antenna shaking a bit, but in a good way. It reminded him of the Twohickey, and the clicks of that redstone clock. How fun! Maybe he should explore the system eventually, so he could replicate it for the others to use. Keepers can't stop him from doing that, could they?)

(He waits beside the mailbox, eagerly waiting for a response, brainstorming up upgrades for his machines, or what machine he could make next to make his life here just a bit easier.)

[sheeezu]

•Sheezu's chart of existence•

I personally don't consider the consciousness "theory" a theory. For me it's the law.

I think this is going to be my "last" post, before I go inactive.

I will still pop my head in every once in a while if I feel like it, but I've run a good course on tumblr, made post about every single topic i could think of, started a fight with a anonymous, with a person not worth the energy, and I'm planning on focusing more on myself, and any other reality than this.

(I don't vibe here)

When I disappear, where would I be? Well that's up to you to decide.

...

Seriously though, I didn't want to mention religion since it leads to conflict, but I really needed to send Cassandra to hell.

There comes a loooooot of meat in between, but I left most of it out, to keep it shifting related, and also since space was running.

...

[izzybluebell]

feels like this is a good time to actually post my lars pfp i made for myself abt a month ago when i thought "waow i love lars i'd love a lars of the stars spin-off :)" (i am losing my mind)

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

When your extroverted friend who’s supposed to be good at this people stuff is somehow worse at picking up social cues than you are

I’m renovating the AU again because when am I ever satisfied. Anyways, I go sleep now

[brokenstopsignn]

Lore accurate patpaul // paultryck

[crypticsketchpad]

hate this guy. fuck you (affectionate) (it's quickly become one of my favorite epics)

(even if it did steal the thunder from my latest post which you should totally go check out please i beg you i spent so long on it-)

last two are references to this and this respectively

[givemedamage]

ultimately!

[sneegsnags-mailbox]

It's utter chaos in my newer contraptions but fine overall! How is it in that tundra? Cold? Hope you have a jacket, old man >:)

PHILLLLLL!!!!! You have one too! :)

-Sneeg ( @sneegsnags-mailbox )

SNEEG! How are you?! :D

[brodyfoxxsmassivetits]

she jontent on my duinslop til I mark eddsworld mention

buncha disconjointed variety doodles while I work on other stuff :3

i should make a eduardoslop tag I bet....I already got jontent gotta complete the duo...

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

when I was 11-12, Tord Eddsworld cradled me in his arms like the virgin Mother Mary

[itsmeamop]

Doodle dump :D

Primarily eddsworld doodles tbh

[sneegsnags-mailbox]

(Flying down to check his mailbox, he groans in frustration. Nobody answered his note. Why would they? It's spam to random people, not a cry for help. His groan turns into a crazed cackle. Nobody's really checked on him in a while, and everything that's going on is getting to him. Threats of war, terrible leveling systems, and the sculk that's on his contraptions is spreading faster than he can clean it. It's nearing 3 months of no outside server contact, and that's getting to him the most.)

(3 whole months of no contact from family or friends from outer servers. Why did he even decide to join this place? Right, Phil and Fit would be here. Well, should be here. Phil's fucked off somewhere else- probably his winter cabin knowing them- and Fits back handling the chaos of his home server after a wave of hackers started to harass him, probably. Only god knows what Fit's really doing, maybe off with Pac or something.)

(He sits himself on the fuzzy purple mycelium, resting his back and head on the barrel of stamps. Maybe the letter is still in the systems! Maybe it hasn't reached someone yet, or they didn't bother to reply. Maybe, if he tried again, someone would finally respond. Maybe he should just give up, accept he's going to die here, doomed to rot in his own machines and contraptions until the keepers finally put him out of his misery. Maybe, he should give in to the sculk in his machines, let it take over and destroy everything.)

(Or maybe he should destroy it all. That's a good idea... Keep destroying the abandoned builds of people smart enough to run away before they got stuck until the keepers finally fucking listen. Or, he should kill people's livestock, steal their shit, and kill them too. Screw it, while he's at it, kill the stupid snails! And those observers! Even the keepers wouldn't be safe...)

(He shook his head. What the hell was he thinking?! He hasn't seen this side of him in a good few years. Maybe he should talk to that new therapist on the server, what the hell was it's name? Something with 'chu' at the end of it.)

(But his brain trailed off to the idea of the destruction of the server... The look on the keepers faces when their little place is up in flames because they didn't let some stupid mothman see or contact his family. He didn't even realize he was laughing at first, but it felt right for some reason. The laughter of a madman wasn't something Sneeg thought he would be doing today, but he needed it.)

(But for now, he'll just write another letter and send it through and sleep on the whole Server destruction thing. Server domination is a big task, but writing a letter sure isn't.)

[infinite-dragon-loop]

I’m not a demon, I’m just a monster

Story below cut

This shirt is too tight. Tom clutched his chest. He stopped abruptly and looked down, seeing purple on his fingertips. He was about to whisper a swear, but retched instead, spitting out a small glob of black blood. As it hit the ground, it glowed with an eerie purple energy. Tom watched as it burned a small hole in the carpet, clasping a hand over his mouth— a hand that was slowly sprouting deep purple scales from its skin.

Don’t panic. Tom reassured himself everything was going to be alright, though he didn’t know how considering that’s not how he felt at the moment. He was still exhausted from his long shift at La Rose Noir, (curse him for being a good bartender), and he did not have the energy for this shit. If he force-shifted now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from rampaging. He didn’t want anyone else’s blood on his paws.

I said don’t panic. He looked around frantically, searching for something grounding. He stumbled to the kitchen and reached for the fridge. He paused as his hand touched the door, hearing a familiar feminine voice whisper to him from the back of his brain. What a grand idea. Sure, drink a bit, numb your mind. Your body will get stronger and your fire will get hotter. You’re just asking to kill as many people as possible. Tom’s eyes widened, and tears welled up in his eyes as he heard his mother’s voice echo in his mind. She would never say it like that, and he knew that— she was gentle and calming when he was going through things like this. But Tom still felt hurt.

The pain is starting. Tom pawed at his chest again as he felt a searing pain from inside his body. Before, he would have tried to shut off his pain receptors with his mind, but he knew his psychic powers were useless during these episodes. So instead, he just sat there, huddled up into a ball on the kitchen floor. He took a deep breath, hearing it rattle in his lungs. It was far too cold. He pressed a shaking, scaled hand against his neck, and growled and winced as he felt his burning hot throat. He tried to change his breath from fire to ice, or water, or even that weird “life” breath that makes plants grow. It was useless. He groaned with frustration, and he watched as angry black smoke billowed from his mouth. He clasped his hands on his head, digging his claws into his skull as his body subconsciously tried to decide if he should be angry and violent or sad and pathetic. He started hyperventilating, nearly choking on the smoke still spewing from his jaws. It was too much. Everything was too overstimulating. He snarled and stumbled into the wall, and heard his phone drop from his pocket. His head snapped in the direction of the sound, and he might have heard his neck crack if he were a little less out of it. He crouched to the ground, clamouring to pick up his phone with his still growing claws.

Jon. He paused when the phone screen lit up. His eyes, dripping with an indiscernible black liquid, landed on a photo of him and his brother. He sat there for a moment, silently staring at his phone screen. The phone went black again, and revealed his reflection instead. He felt his heart drop when he saw his wild glowing eyes staring back at him. He put his phone back in his pocket, standing and looking towards the front door. A sense of calm washed over him as he walked over to the door. He cracked it open, looking at the bright blue sky. He flinched and whined at the burning sunlight that hit his eyes. He stepped out after a moment, accidentally slamming the door behind him, and shoving his fists into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

I need to see Jon. Tom trudged over to the house next door, his head down and eyes squinted to keep the sun away. He took a deep breath, light smoke gently pouring from his mouth when he sighed, and knocked on the door. At this point he didn’t care who answered it— he would just shove aside Eduardo or Mark without an explanation. He just needed to see his brother. The door opened, and the man behind it raised his eyebrows. Jon. His brother, his baby. He would have cried if he wasn’t so focused on keeping his emotions in check. Jon started to greet him, but Tom gently pushed past him and walked inside. “Uh— Tom, hey— is it that bad?” Yes, yes it is.

“Uh— have you had anything to drink? You know I don’t like it when you drink when you’re all monster-y. It makes you scary.” Jon asked, allowing Tom to grab his hand and drag him toward Eduardo’s basement door. Tom shook his head, trying not to dig his claws into Jon’s hand. Jon tugged at him to get him to stop, and Tom felt soft downy feather-like fur and squishy paw pads in place of skin. He turned and looked at Jon’s hand in his, covered in light blue fur. He looked up at Jon and saw his sweet, minty-green eyes staring back at him. “It’s okay,” Jon whispered, his long ears and horns sprouting from his head. “You can let go a little bit. It helps.” Tom sighed. Tom let his claws grow out, and his rough scales clashed with Jon’s soft fur. He took a few deep breaths, guided by Jon. His ears and horns grew as well, longer and sharper than his brother’s. It was clear who was the more dangerous of the two.

Jon smiled and kept walking, guiding Tom to the basement. Tom’s ears flattened, and his hair sharpened into spines. He took a few more breaths. When they reached the basement floor, he curled up in a ball on the cold concrete. Jon probably would have found it funny if he wasn’t so worried already. Tom quietly shifted into a larger monster form, and Jon did the same. The smaller monster carefully climbed onto his brother and wrapped his tail around him, the feathers on the tip of his tail gently brushing Tom’s arm. Tom sighed, staring at the wall with a single tired, unblinking eye.

Jon looked up at his brother helplessly. His brother who had helped their mum raise him when their dad died, who fiercely defended him from bullies (including his own housemates), who gave him wise words of encouragement that only someone who grew up too fast would know. He looked up at his brother and wanted to sob. He looked so numb. Jon stared at Tom, and Tom stared at nothing.

He looked empty, but Jon knew there was a war going on inside his mind.

[orfisheus]

I'm getting bullied (told) by Pidge ( @sirscribbsalot ) to post my doodles I've been sending to an online server so. I guess this is y'all's informal introduction to my AU, harrowingly named Wokesworld by @thebirdsystem.

Featuring OCs made by @thebirdsystem and @anything-that-isnt-nails

[artctrlcee]

In from the Cold (divergent)

[rampantram]

Has there ever been a moment someone tried to harm the children or Ewe? Either out of cult grounds (heretic) or in (dissenter)

...maybe..