#tw unconsentual body modification

[systemofmycelium]

Mumscarian or gempearl maybe?

TW: (*Implied) *Unconsensual Body Modification, Mushroom Horror, Mind Control, and Imprisonment. Viewer discretion is advised.

@scottsmajorshipbracket

"Mr. Jumbo."

The Mayor's voice was as silken as Jellie's fur as the man stroked his cat's pelt in a way reminiscent of a Disney supervillain, which would have been concerning if it weren't for the fact this was of-the-norm (Scar had a flair for theatrics), swivel chair faced away from Mumbo as he greeted him with a simple,

"Come in."

After Mumbo's own mayor campaign had fallen to shambles, he had made the wise decision to stay out of politics, but how could he resist joining in after XB had told him stories of the Mycelium Resistance’s grand vaults? A promise, which of course, fell through horrifically - when the Leader of Vaults had no more vaults left the lead, he felt it was only fair to enact rueful vengeance against the Resistance for their crimes against vaults by joining their arch-enemies, H.E.P. 

Really, all he’d done so far for the faction was build a Tunnel Borer, which — despite Scar praising him relentlessly for the machine’s ingeniousness — really wasn’t all that much. He'd hardly been wholly devoted to either faction, but when Scar had called him into his office, he felt it was his duty to oblige. Even if he was quite a distant member of the Hermitcraft Environmental Protection organization, he still was one, regardlessly! And he'd rather not get on the Mayor of the Shopping District's bad side. He still had hopes that ODEA could make a comeback.

"Reporting for duty, uh... Mister Mayor, sir!" That was how he was supposed to be referred to, right? Should Mumbo be calling him 'His Majesty' instead? No, certainly not, that defintely wasn't the correct terminology for a mayor. Though, Scar did have a throne, so... GAH, this was all quite confusing! This was why he stayed out of politics!

Scar laughed. It wasn't his usual laugh. It wasn't filled with as much buoyance, or airness, no, it was more stiff. Almost stifled.

"Oh, Mumbo..." Even through his catatonic tone, a whisp of fondness slipped into his tone, the hint of warmth a direct opposition to the spike of cold that crept up Mumbo's spine at his next words:

"I'm not the Mayor."

Scar spun around in his chair.

And Mumbo could see that it wasn't Scar at all.

Not anymore.

No, violaceous mycelium had spread across his face like a mold, the purple fungus having enveloped his features, toadstools growing out of his skin like an infection. His expression was as blank as a puppet's - and the voice that came out of his throat was not his own. It was hers. Scar was nothing but a voicebox.

"The Mayor has been quite a nuisance... He rid the land of its natural mycelium. And, so, it was only fair that his punishment for removing the mycelium from the it's home meant he would become it's new home."

Mumbo ran for the door. Locked. No, rather, a sticky mold had found it's way into the keyhole, jamming it from the inside. Trapping him inside.

"As for you? Well, you betrayed me. And for what...? A vault. Well, if you like vaults so much, dear, be my guest. You can spend the rest of your life in one."

Mumbo didn't even have time to scream before he heard the sound of a piston and saw the blocks vanish from underneath him. He gasped, scrabbling to cling onto the last block, feet dangling over the edge as his fingertips dug into the carpet's floor. Dug into his last semblance of freedom.

"Don't worry, darling," Scar's puppetered shell cupped Mumbo's face lovingly as he hung over the edge, other hand intertwining their fingertips together. The same fingertips that were the only thing keeping him from falling into whatever prison lay beneath his feet.

"I'll be sure to visit. I'd never let you rot."

A smile that was not Scar's own spread across his face. Mumbo felt his fingers slipping.

"I'd only let you decay."

And then... he fell.

[nickle-moth]

TW: BLOOD, GORE, UNCONSENTUAL BODY MODIFICATION, LOTS OF EYES, EYE CONTACT, UNSETTLING IMAGERY

(It's a horror exchange what did you expect)

Hello! This is a gift for @kitty-dunks for the @mcythorrorgiftexchange !

I hope you don't mind the first part of the fic is from Doc's perspective, I had an idea and got carried away lol. This is two drawings that I gave a story to, as I was having a lot of fun with the horror and decided to keep going. It's not quite 1,500 words but I feel like thats ok because my main objective was the drawings, and I just decided to try and write something, I'm not very good at writing but please enjoy!

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Characters: Docm77, Grian, Mumbo Jumbo, GoodTimesWithScar

Words: 1,200

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Doc was trying to fix his tunnel boar. After Grian and Scar blew it up, he kind of forgot about it in all the mayhem of their newfound war. So, he's fixing it. He has already gathered the resources necessary for this, it's just a matter of putting it all together. Doc was so focused on building; he never realized the sounds from the wardens had stopped. He was so focused; he never noticed the sound of an approaching entity. It sounded like a slime was trying to slither but was failing, but it was still approaching, and fast too. Doc had his back turned to the exit when he heard a noise. A small thump, from behind him. He turned around to see, nothing. 'Weird' he thought and went back to working on the tunnel boar.

Had it gotten colder? He swears it wasn't this cold before. Now shivering, he brushes it off as another weird thing about Hermitcraft, or it could be the altitude. Either way, he needs to get this done. Doc feels a… hand? No. Claws, run up his arm. He freezes as it grips his shoulder, and another clawed hand is set on his head. The claws feel eerily cold but, at the same time, warm, but the warmth isn't coming from the entity, no, it's coming from something liquid-like on its claws. Blood, he realizes. He should run, turn, and fight, do something… but he stands there, unable to move. Another hand grabs at his cyber-horn this time. 'How many hands does this thing have!?' Doc wanders to himself as he brings his hands up, hugging his arms.

He is terrified. In one quick movement, he is picked up off the ground and thrown against the wall. *CRACK* He has lost all feeling throughout his entire body. He is picked up with one of the clawed hands by his neck. Helpless now, as he can see his attacker.

The bottom half is a goopy black mess of god know what, and there’s three people, or what he assumes to be people, visible from the waist up: The Buttercups, Grian, Scar, and Mumbo. The one on the left, Grian, is wearing his normal outfit, red jumper pulled down just below the shoulders, with a black skintight shirt underneath. But his wings are bone, being held together by flowers (buttercups he asumes) and brown vines. His jaw has been torn off, revealing rows of sharp teeth, with more flowers at the corners of his mouth, and the vines growing out of his mouth and skin.

"Hello, there dear friend." Grian says with a voice that sounds way to friendly.

The one on the right, Scar, is wearing his Scarland uniform, the bright orange safety vest with a yellow stripe down each side, over a blue button up, with a white undershirt and a black tie. But he has large wings that could only be described as a vex's covered with the same yellow flowers, and brown vines. His mouth is spread uncannily across his face, with fangs poking through. and the scar on his face looks fresh and is growing more of the flowers and vines.

"We see you're fixing up your tunnel boar, sorry again about that." Scar says with the same over friendly voice.

The one in the middle, Mumbo, is wearing his normal black suit, white under shirt, and red tie. But his stomach has been torn open to reveal a worrying lack of organs, with only the heart remaining. Mumbo looks as if he were crying redstone. And a flower crown seems to be growing from his head, consisting of the same flowers and vines the other two had.

"I'm sorry it had to go this way, but we draw the line at eggs." Mumbo said, sounding genuinely sorry, and, was his voice coming from his chest?

Doc couldn't foucus on anything right now, as he was unable to speak, seeing as his spine was close to shattered, and he was being choked to death.

~~~~~

Doc awoke in a cold sweat. Had he just been killed? He checked his communicator, no death message, just: Docm77 went to sleep. Sweet dreams! It was a dream? No, it was a nightmare. He stumbled out of bed, and quickly pulled out his elytra, flying to The Buttercups camp. He landed and, there they were, The Buttercups, looking completely normal. Just as they normally do, no black mass, or flowers and vines growing from their skin.

"You good man?" Mumbo asked him, sounding concerned.

"Yep, fine!" Doc replied, way too quickly.

"Okayyy, well, I was 'bout to head off, those rocks don't build themselves!" Grian said standing up, he sounded nothing like he did in Doc's dream. With the overly friendly voice being replaced with his normal mischievous one.

"Ok, well, bye now."

Doc said and turned to leave but turned back just in time to see Grian fly off. Doc then turned right back to the Perimeter and flew back to his base. Ignoring the black goop, he swore he saw on Grian's wings.

~~~~~

"That was weird, even for Doc, right?" Mumbo asked his friend. Scar, who was sitting right next to him agreed.

"Maby he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed? Happens to me all the time!" Scar's voice was just as cheery as it normally is.

"Let’s be real, he was probably fretting over the prank Grian had us play on him." Mumbo admitted.

Like saying his name had summoned him, Grian popped up behind them.

"You're probably right Mumbo."

"AHHHH!!" Mumbo and Scar screamed in unison, falling off the logs they were sitting on.

"HOW DO YOU DO THAT!?"

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN MAKE ANY NOISE!!"

The Buttercups were now laughing with each other, and the successful prank they pulled on Doc. If he was going to fill their bases with eggs, then they would retaliate. And Grian had a plan the end this silly war, but it would require a load of grass and dirt. And some outside help most likely!

~~~~~

Mumbo awoke with a jolt, as his lower body was in pain. Not sure what to do, he wobbled out of his little tent, Grian had convinced them to stay at the Buttercup Camp tonight, something about 'Doc might want revenge so we should stay together.' Mumbo was pulled from his thoughts when he saw Scar lying on the ground curled up on himself. He stumbled over to his friend, crouching down and laying a hand on his shoulder,

"You ok dude?" He asked Scar, getting only a muffled groan in response, he continued,

"Me too man, I'm not sure whats going on."

Moments later, Grian emerged from his tent and joined them in the center of the camp,

"All three of us? What's going on?"

As soon as he said that, the three were hit with an immence pain from their waists to their feet, and in an instant, there was an explosion of pitch black goop, combining the three into one entity.

Grian's jaw had been ripped off in the blast, with yellow buttercups, and brown vines growing at the corners of his mouth. The feathers and flesh had melted from his wings, leaving bone that was being held together by the same flowers and vines.

"What the hell?" He said with a shaky voice, or said as well as you can say something with no jaw. But still understandable, suprisingly.

Scar's mouth had torn at the corners, giving him a wide and eeri grin. The scar that adorned his face looked fresh, like it had just been given to him, and had more of the flowers and vines growing from it. His vex wings had trippled in size, now covedered by the buttercups and vines.

"What's going on!? Whats happening to us!?" Scar said through the pain of his new mouth.

Mumbo now had a gapping hole in his chest, or rather his chest was now a giant hole, with all of his organs missing, whith the exception of his heart, but it wasn't beating. The flowers and vines were growing from his head in the shape of a crown, a flower crown. His eyes had begun to spill redstone, like he was crying, burning his eyes as the redstone-tears ran down his face. His mouth had been sewn shut with the vines.

"I think were becoming the monster we used to prank Doc." He said, although, it sounded like it came from his chest. Where from in his chest? Who knows.

There body's (and minds for that matter) had become distorted. They had been robbed of their memories, personalities, and humanity, all three now shared one mind, and that mind had one thought: Kill Docm77. But the goop wasn't going to leave them unarmed, no, it gave them a weapon, with a suspiciously familiar symbol on it. And the ability to perma-kill any player.

With their new weapon, and lack of self-control, they went in search of Doc.

~~~~~

He was fairly easy to find, just go to The Perimiter (wich they were right next to), and look around. And as soon as Buttercup laid eyes on Doc, he was doomed. They slowly approched from behind, not wanting to scare their prey.

~~~~~

Doc was playing with his tomatoes. They don't get much attention, seeing as Doc is very busy most of the time. With the war, and The Perimeter nowhere near done, he doesn't have much off-time. But he has some now, so he's using it wisely. But the tomatoes are acting strange, are they… trembling? And some are hopping off too. Oh dear.

" H̴̡̨̢̜̣̘̝͇̻̺̮̥͌̊̐̌͋͘͜ͅe̷̞̱̭͈̟̎͐̓̓̃̑͋l̵̪͍̙̱̇̐̎͆̽̀͑̆͑̒̆͜͝l̸̨͎͈͚̫̘̬̼̳̳̱͉̪̦̜̽͐͒̽͂̈́̃͆̕ǫ̷̗͚̫̬̟̘̪͖̝̆̈̒͘ ̷̡̡̻͍̗̮̘͖̲̣͒͌̄̀̈̿͆́̇͊͘̚͜͠͠a̸̳̐̌̔̈̈́̉́̿̂g̴̦͎̭̼̝̰͈̈́̂͊̂̉͂̏̒͊̂̔̆ͅa̷̧̧͙̮̣͍͔̣͎͙̯͔̻̾̍̚͠ͅi̴̡̺̗̣̭̰͓͈͇͕͖̼͍͈̖͆͒͒̇̇̌́̆̃̿̓͒̎n̷̝̎̓̆͝ " (Hello again) Three voices said at once, but heavily distorted.

Doc turned around, slowly, and was face to face with the monster of the buttercups he faced in his dream.

"Th- this… has to be a dream again, right?" He asked… himself? The monster?

"h̵̨̩̪̜̙̘̠͇̠̺̰̜̠͌͌̎͛̿̔̔̾ͅe̶̻̗̔̐̕̚͜h̴̛̙̟̥͔̙̭̋̑̋͛͐̽̒̀͝͝ę̵̡̧̢̧̛͖̰̹̻̗̞̻̝̽̃̏͆̈́̕ͅ,̵̟̲̼͈̭͖̰̍́̏̍͛̏͗̇̓̀̐͗͠ ̵̢̙̺̭͙̠͕̙̹͑̀͜s̴̛͕̝̗̠͔̊̆ǒ̴̢͈͙̬͓̜̘̰̂͜͜ŗ̶̝͔̳̹͎̗͎̘̘̤͛͑̿̒̕̕r̶̢̧͓͇̞̹̲͈̹̰͉͎̀̂̽͆͜͝͝y̶̨̩̞̰͖̺̠̘͗̍̏͆͊̔̾͑̉̈̉̈́̀̔͠,̷̨̛̝͓͈͂͂́̓͆̏͆̓̿͊́͌̿͜ ̴̛̦̻̼̲̲̤̍̐͊͛̈̑̅̌͌̌̆ͅb̶͔͔̗̠̫͇̊͋͂̌̅͝ữ̶͔̗͎̥͛̌̊͒͆̾͘͜͝ţ̵͈͍͇̥̞̌̆͊͑͂͠͠ͅ ̵̢̨̻̞̜̗̰̦̟̟͐̀̈͐̌͑̈͂̈́̀͐͆̃̓ń̵̡̡̹̜̖̗̻̹̩̟́ỏ̸̯̣̟̈̈̈́̃̉̓͂́̀͘.̶̧̛͔͍̯͔̩̃͂̀͊͑̇̈̽́̒͘ͅ " (hehe, sorry, but no.) It responded, giving him the answer he feared most.

Doc turned, and ran. He ran far enough to equip his elytra, and fire a rocket. Only to be shot out of the sky by god knows what, but it wasn't an arrow. Hitting the ground took half of his health, with no time at all to react, he was pulled to his feet by his horn, with a large clawed hand that seemed to be giving him a potion effect. 'What potio-' Stopped halfway through his thought by an ache in his head, 'Oh, wither effect' Not good, not good at all. Then, something started to block his vision, the ach growing and spreading, and now acompanied by brown vines (the ones that adorned The Buttercups) and, looking down at his hands, the flowers too. He was thrown against the wall, being held to it by the vines, and now had a good look at the monster in front of him. The temperature had dropped by atleast 20° (Fahrenheit).

"W̷̛̛̹͓̲̞͉̘̟̹̭͉̦̑̈̈́̀͒̓͘͝ę̵̛̤͙̭̮͎͙̘͇̓̈̐̉̋'̴̛̖̖͉͎̯̠̯́̀͗͛̉̇͋̾͛̊͜͝v̷̭͉͚́́̊̀̚̚͝e̷̛͎̖̜̝̘͙͈̓͌͑̽͋́̚͝ ̶̛̘̭̭̲̺̪͓̠̜͓͙̣͎͝ͅb̷̢̹̖̹͖̠̲̺̀͑͂̈́̎̅͠͝é̸͉̺̠̉̓ę̶̛̜̩̜̘͔͇̙̞͖̪͍̋́̇̉̊͋̓͊́̎̑͂ͅn̸̠̰̯͙̊͊́͒̏̋͐̂̒͛͆͠ ̸̨̛͚̩̘̬̼͙͉̤̄͊͒̄́͘ģ̴̬̦̮̥̥͇̓̐̓̽̈́̈͗͋̇͑́͘̕̕͝ĭ̸̧͚͕͔̟̺͉͓̳̻͍̮̝̼̜̔͆͗̎͑̆̄̚͝v̶̧̩͖͎͇̣͔̭̪̼̜̭̜͊͋̀̍̃͂̋e̶̡̮̬̭͋̓̂̿̍͐̿̊́͌͗͛̎̚ͅn̵̨̫͙̯̲̺̻̟̲̖̣̲͚̙̓͐̉̌̎̃̌̊̄̓̅͜ ̸̨̢̡̼̲̞͍͚͓̺̹̩̰̱̼̿ḁ̴̪̈́̂̐́̈́̈́̚͠ ̸̮̩̈́͆͑̔͑͌̎̍̍̉͆͠g̶̨͖͍̼̦̙̮̉́́̽̑̅̀́ͅō̵̰̳͕̙̦̩̚à̴̛͈̦̖͖̫͈̠̪́̒̀̓̿̓̍̚̚͜͜l̶̙͉̍̒͂͗͛͑̍͗̉̇̏͊,̵͉̏̂̓̿̒̚̚ ̸̡̧̘̗͙̖̘̥̖̪̆̂â̵͖̯̙͉̪̈́̂̂̊̒̈́͜͝n̷̨̖͎̮̖̼͖̦̖͒͗̐̀̈́͌̃͝͠d̶̗̫̫̤̜̳͇̳̜̦̘̀̍ ̷̣̮̗̮̫̺̥̣̗̹̣̅̇̐̒͜ͅr̸͓̍͋e̸̡̧̢̧̡͖̱̻̦͉̮̻̻̲̝͆͛͐̄́ḟ̴̯̩̠͉͎͖̘̯̱̘͓̟͕̩̗̉̾͝u̵͔͍̜̿̈̅̌̈́ṡ̶͙̗̜̺͓̻͖̭̺̠̯͓̘͆̽͘ẽ̶̡̛̟͚̝̯͕̜̖̗̞̘͙́̅͛͌̌̍̑̇̍́̍͝͠ ̴̢̨̫̥̩̬̰̪̙͔͓̌̿̆̊͛̅̓͐̒͛̌̕t̷̢̨̼̟͚̙̘̖̣̤͇͙̺͛͆͂̈́̈́̿͛͊̌͜͜͝o̵̹̣̝̝̭͚̲̪̺̙̩͆͒̓̔͆̃̐͊͠ ̷̦̏͋̒̐f̷͖̥͙̻̈̈a̷̘̱̳̲͐̽̉̆̂̃͐͐̌̆͘͘͝i̸̩̫̟̹͆̇̾̀͋͆͂̌͌̕̕͝͠͠l̴̡̠̳͍̦̰̥̲̫̯̈́̾̃̔̈́̐̈́.̸̡̜̗̫̘̕ " (We've been given a goal, and refuse to fail)

Suddenly, a cold blade is plunged through his chest and pulled out again. It leaves, leaving him to bleed out, held to the wall by vines and flowers, bleeding out, and cold and tired, Doc sits, and waits for a respawn that never comes, left to float in the endless void of the afterlife.

~~~~~

Buttercup now has no goal, no driving motivation, nothing keeping it in line, the goop leaves it to its own accords. Buttercup goes mad. It was designined to kill Doc. But there is no Doc to kill. What is it supposed to do.

" W̴̛̪̟̬̹̤̔̿͑̈͑͆̅̚ḩ̷̦͍͉̯̪͇̞̘͇̰̰̽̈́̃̄́̍̅̌͆͠a̶̱̘͔̰̮͈̼͋̆͊̑̓̓͌̄͘͜t̷̬̻͍̥̠̲̀͒̊̚͝ ̷̳̦̣̟͎̳̩̹̾̃̌̄͂͋͑́͜͠͝a̵̧̨̠̳̖̭̪̬̪̪̗̽̆̀r̴̞͕̐̔̆̉͝͠ͅȩ̵̞̠̣͙̖̮̪̤̋̾͗̔̅̾̈́͘̕͠ ̷̡̠̣̻̝̍͋̑͂̍̓̓̆̂̍ͅw̸̨͇͈̍̽͆̇͛̅̉͜é̵̢̮̦͇̞̥̟ ̵̦͇̫̣̺͓̥͔̣̩̗̥̌̐͌̑̈́̓̈͛̃̔͌͝ͅs̶̛̤̼̒̎̇͛͆͛̎̽͛̀̎ư̴̢̳̙̝̤̳̪̇̄̈́̕͠p̴̢̨̧̡͔̳͚̯͇̦̥̟͖̰̊̓̈́̇̽̇̓̀͂́͘͜p̸̢͉̰̬̤͇̮̗̰̠̦̣̤̣̆ͅơ̸̧͙͉̞͍͖͈͆̏̍͌̈́̾͊̏̔̂͘s̸̝͔͙̉͐̎̐̍̏̄́̓͝͝e̴̛͓͍̟̝̱̙͐͒̈́͆̕̚̚͝͠d̷͕͎̰̹͕̜̩̜͚̈́̔̒̀͑̀̇̚̕͝͠ ̸̜̥̦̲̬̏̊t̵̨̫̝͎̜̦͖̟͉̳̜̅͂̅̎̑̍͛̈́̋̚͜͠ͅõ̵̢̱̹͎̒̒̊̂̓̊̈́̒͆͠͝ ̵̧̨̡̧͉͈͗͌̀̉͒͋d̴̡̨͕̠̝͓͖̠̙͍̰̈́͐̓̋̃̀̅͌̚̚ó̸̧͓̜͚̲̯̦͔̅̍̇̕͝?̴̡͎̭͙̲̫̼̯̜͌ " (What are we supposed to do?) It cries out, into the night, with no one to hear it.

" W̶̧̡̧̠̪̫̥̩̩̖̱̻̪͕͂̅͐͋̈́̆̾͂̂ê̴̡͔̫͇̲̯̬̈́̾͊̿̕ ̴̤̬̩̞̦̗̜̻̜͎͔̰̼̏͋͒͊̄̓̋͋̈̍̀̿̇͝͝w̵̧̘̣̗͚̳̱̫̠̠͛̔ͅę̶͇̫͙̗̙͎̭̍ͅͅͅŕ̶̡͈̹͆̎̊͐͒̓̅͂̈́́̚͝ę̸̧̼̘͕̥̱̞͕̬̣̿̔̋̔̋̅̓̈́̂̍͒̈́̈̚͜ ̸̧͍͈͙̥̠̣̮̗͉̀̈̋̎͗̀̆̑̊̋͝d̸̢̗̱̜̙̩͉̠͂̄͊̌̋̎̔̓̕̚͜e̶̢͙̲͈̳͙̙̘͍̿̊͐͛̿͐̽̐͐́̓͛s̴̡̲͎͇̻̟̀͛̊̃͂͂̒͊͆͗͋̚͝i̴̹̒͌̌̿̕̕͝ģ̴͓̥̞̫̭̱̩̥̺͕̥͂̆͜ṋ̶̨̛̝̞͓̐̄̊̈́̕͠i̸̩̤͆͊̈̈́̀̓̎̕̕̚͝n̴̨̧̼̣̱̱̳͈͇̠̹͈̆̀̃̇̔̿̏̔͒̿͛͆͘͜͠ȅ̴̢͈͇͔͚̠͉̝͓̬͂̏̅͒̑͌͌̌̓̀̎̚͝d̶̡͈͍̼̙̼̻͈͈̈̽̿̊͑̆ ̸̡̳̖̯͇̭̘̟̭̘̙̥̉͛͆̍͝t̷̝̘͖̑͑̈́̈̍̀̏̃͆͌̓̎͊o̵̡̡̺̳̩̬̤͉͑͗͌͑̿̃͊̀̏̍͊̉ ̴̛̜̩̥̍̏̆͗̑̋k̸͈̻̈́͝i̴̠̟̟͎̺͇̘̱̻͖̪̕ͅl̸̮̳̫̬̳͈͍̪̱̹̮͇̽́̊̎͜͜ļ̷̛̛̠͚͐͗̽̒͐̀̈́͋͐̏͝,̶̨̨̢̢̮͇͙̯̳̤̰̻̟̹̬̍̌̈̈́̾̑͆̓͘̕͘͠ ̴͖̗̞̟̙̝̐̂̓̄̇̈́͊͐̊̓͛̃̀̚͠s̴̘̣̜̻̣͕͚͔̈́́͋́͌̒̈́͒̌̿̐̂̓͘��̨͍̝̻͔͜ȯ̸̢̞͎̻̻̣̖̙̹̘̲͐̇̕͜͜ ̶̮͓̰̖͔̍͋͠͝l̵̂͆̓̍͑̓̈̆͝͝ͅ��̭̰̲ě̸̛͙͙̮̚t̶̫̝͚̗̺̯͇̞̉͗̂̈́̃̿̿̾̀̋͋̈́͝͠ş̸̘̤̮̫́͌̈́̊́̅̎͘͜͝͠ ̴̢̱͓̲̮̝̗̱̥͖̗͍͌d̴͚̪̲̮͇̟̼͍̉ȍ̸̩͕̤̳̞̯͎̥͚̣͈̈̄̔͑͌̿̏͗̆̕͝ͅ ̶͚̖͚͇̖̦̝̜͉̦̳̇̓̐j̴̨̧̛̞͔̦̥̿̓̀̋͑͌̔̈́͊̂͋͠ͅư̷̢̮̥͉̘̙̩̤͉͇͉̝͌̽̽́̄͊̾̍̈́̒́ͅş̷̧̟̯̯̙̭̙̼̖̦̪͎̌̓̐̈́́̅̂̅̍̈́̍̅̕͜͝ͅt̶̛̼̜͚̹͗̓̃ ̴̧̛̲̦̼̼̟̙̦̻̭͔̫̫͆̅̑͐̃͆͂͐͑̅ť̵̡̝͇̜̦͇͖̅̈́h̷̬̮̻͚̰̦̗̮͙̄̍̒̇͆̊̾̀̄̓̉͜ā̴͖̜̠̩͖̖̐͒͋̇t̵̡̫̭̙̜̣̜̥͓̝̬̰̃̇̾̇̀̋̽͐̀̊͘.̵̪̣̮̰̍̈̂̂̌̋̈͒̐̀͠͝ " (We were designined to kill, so lets do just that.)

With a new motivation, one not crafted by the goo, but by its own mind, the one it was given by the rough dream magic, it set out to kill. Anything that it saw.

" Ẹ̸̠̘̯͚̻̫͔̮͈̳͈̝͋s̵̛̯̰͎̟͕̟̫̩̩̬̻̤̟̀̎̽̑͂͊͐͠ͅp̵̡͎̹͉̖̭͕̟͍̝̳͆̿̈͘͜ě̷̙̟̥̤͐̓́͗̆̄̚͝ç̶̼͖̀͂́̈͋̚į̸̡͍̖̟̺̮̙̜̪̤̓̽̄̒̇͗̑̉͘͝ͅa̶͇̳͉͙͎̾̀̈͒l̷̨̨̢̠̠̲̬͔̤̥̎̍͐̾̃̌͝y̷̦̘̞̮̒̀̃͑̽͠ ̷̨̰̘͙̖̬͉̠̭̱̯͊̓̓̈́̑͆͋̉͂̐̊͌̂b̴̯̰̙̻͔̙̝̤̺͙͑̀̓̒̄̑̿̊͛̐̑́̍̚u̴̡̢̖̠̹̟̟̟̫̓̓͊n̸̲̲̪̦͉̥̙͒̑̋̓̔̄̾̒͘n̷̡̪͈̱̭̱̗̫̰̣̜̖͊̑͜͜i̸̹̣͚͙̙͛͆̓̔́̇̈́͑̓ȅ̶͓̊̔̀͌͂̄͑̉̎͘͘s̵͓̜͇̝̦͍̘̀̽̊̋̓͠,̵̖͚͂̃̓̒̀͑͒̈́̚ ̶̨̩͍̗͇͕͎̯̻̥̟̥͔̋̉̄̑͋̓͗̀̅́̄̚͝͝ͅv̷̧̝̟͍̮͉̦̩̬͉͂͗̋͌̈́͜ĭ̶̡̧̧̛̹̝̫̮̯̤̲̎̈̆̋̌̈́̾̅̕͜l̵̗̼͙̰̲̫̎̆̓̾̔̒͒̀̏̒̈́̕͘͘͝ȩ̶̣͙̹̯̘̹̤͇͇̟̺̜̈́̈͌̄̊̃̔̔̈͆̅͆͛͐ ̸̢̛͚̗̝̻͉͓̫͉̩̟̪̠͒̈́̎̔̔̑̋̚͜v̸̧̧̱̣̗͔̜̻̭̥̥̭͉̊͐̿͗̌͂̕̕̚ͅẽ̶̢̞̼̼̪̤̹͎̼͈̗̙̬r̶̢̜̦̥̙̓̀̎̕̕͝m̷̦̟̮͚̞̲̅̏̑̐̉̅͛͒͑͑̽͊̕͘͠i̶̢͓͚̫̠͇͎͌̌͑͂̏̈́̂́̈́͝͠ñ̴̛͙̹̥͉͙̩̳̟̮̫̜̹̂̃͐̏́͐̐͊͑͠ȩ̸̯̩̬̹̺̊̂̈͌̿̔͒̂̈́̒̑̈́͗ͅs̷̠͙̲̺̣̯̜͙̗̬͙̥̝̖̏͛̉̒̔͌̌̆̍͝!̸̟̤̩̜̝̒̀́̈́͋͐͗̀̋̓̀̀́͜͝͝ͅ " ( Especialy bunnies, vile vermines!) Part of it said, wierd, but ok?

"STOP" A voice echoed from above.

With a flash of purple, all that remained of the encounter was the vines on the wall, and a note that said.

"Corrupted or killed,

but gone nevertheless.

Say goodbye to your friends,

and the dream magic mess."

Along with the death message in chat:

Docm77 was slain by ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ using The Watchers Blade

~~~~~

The members of Hermitcraft learned not to mess with dream magic after the Buttercup Incident. For they had lost three friends to maddness, and one more to the maddness of the others. Memorials are set up for them each season after season 9, along with the memorial for TFC.

[werethehellami]

Runaway Toy Bee AU

Display

TW: objectification, previous non-con body modification, unconsentual touching (non sexual),

Don't read if you are in any way uncomfortable or triggered by these, remember to take care of yourself and your mental health.

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B-127, or Bee was silently fuming as he was shown off like a Fancy toy. His small frame being handled by strangers, pulling at his limbs and shaking him about. He couldn't help but grimace at the action.

Bee hated his 'master', hated his slimy grin, hated his sea green paint, loathed his large almost giant hands. Yes, Bee hated a lot of things, he has hated these things for years now. But that didn't matter here, not as StoneEater paraded him around as the toy he saw Bee as.

Bee didn't know when his Master, StoneEater, first got ahold of Bee. All Bee knew was that he had a family before, a sire and a carrier who would kill and die for him in the same breath. That he was stolen away from them. Not that. It mattered, while StoneEater paraded him around like the toy he saw Bee as.

Bee sat in the plam of StoneEater's hand, so small compared to the fingers alone. His tiny frame rattled with each step the giant took. Unfamiliar faces jeered and quaked at him as if he was some exotic pet, and not the individual he was.

"He is so tiny, how do you even manage to feed the little thing?" Someone asked, their finger too close to Bee's face. A bot a little older than Bee but much taller stood by the stranger's side. "Oh that was a fairly simple obstacle, just some simple hand feeding, and a little bit of convincing to get him to corporate. He still needs a little bit more training, but soon he'll be ready for tricks." StoneEater said with nothing but enthusiasm.

Bee's teeth grinded against each other, listening to them talk about him like he was a pet. Oh how he wanted to start them apart. But he was small, weak, and currently on a leash. If he tried to swing, throw a punch, kick to the pit and back, it wouldn't do anything. At most it would lead to Bee being locked up in a kennel for a couple days again. So Bee bit his tongue and tried to focus on literally anything else.

Bee's fingers twitched, wanting to touch his neck, his fingers brushed up the smooth metal collar around his neck. It was a gaudy looking thing, silver in color but adorned with yellow and orange gems, it was uncomfortably tight. If Bee were to breathe too quickly, he'd probably choke for second. He was half tempted to just let it choke him out, if it got him out of this place. But knowing his luck, it would only end up with more restrictions on what little crumbs of autonomy and choice he had. StoneEater had the unfortunate ability to know what were genuine accidents and what was Bee's own doing.If choosing what color of shiny rock to fit a collar meant to keep you lock up counted as a choice.

Bee silently hissed as the bright lights burned into his optics. Everything about this stupid party was overwhelming and exhausting to look at. Bee glanced at the ground, and decided he loathed the neon colors for the floor. Bee closed his optics, his arms wrapped around his legs. He really wanted out of this.

"looks like the little thing tired himself out, it's almost his bedtime anyways," StoneEater chuckled softly. His thumb rubbing against Bee's back. If he had his voice Bee would scream at StoneEater, but Atlas, his voice was the second thing Bee lost.

_______________

Bee wondered how long until he lost everything that made Bee himself.... He didn't want to know that. He wanted his family back, his voice, his future. He wanted his life, his choices back. Bee wanted to steal them back, tear them from StoneEater's servos and beat him with them.

Nee couldn't help but wonder about how hard and futile it would be. He couldn't help but also think about the satisfaction of his defiance. But Bee was but a sparkling, and the collar had purpose besides showing off his master's wealth. A painful shock shot through Bee's body, and he opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out.

"Oh little one, did you think I didn't notice that ugly expression earlier? It was quite embarrassing, you know, having to explain it away. And here I thought you were trained enough to handle this. No matter, I shall see to that your are next time" StoneEater said as he clutched Bee in his hand, fingers painful tight.

Bee wanted to snarl, hiss, bite, and growl like that animal his master thought him of. But no noise escaped his mouth. Yet he struggled, squirmed wildly, and kicked. All of his movements meant nothing, they didn't scratch the paint, didn't dent the metal; However it brought a smile to Bee's face when he saw the disappointed face of his master. It was oddly satisfying to be half hardly thrown into the metal kennel.

Bee would get his freedom. He would fight and steal for it. Maybe even kill, but that would happen much later.

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Please send asks or comments as much as ya want! I hope everyone enjoyed this and that they stay safe. @cozzzynook here's an update