#source: minecraft story mode

[the-travelers-hub]

Cautious: It's a fire hazard!

Cool or Energetic: And your face is an UGLY HAZARD!

[nesonkin]

Lukas: So, we had a meeting to debate a new form of government. Petra: I vote anarchy Olivia: You can't vote ANARCHY. Jesse: Monarchy! Whoever holds the magical sword. Excalibur! Axel: Party paryarchy! Gabriel: Military dictatorship! Ellegaard: Matriarchy. Axel: Oh! How about malarkey! Olivia: Axel, that's not a type of government, it just means meaningless talk and nonsense. Lukas: Malarkey won.

[froggychair05]

Oh gosh you actually mentioned Reuben before I'm so dumb 💀-

As for Dewey, is he a current pet of Lukas' or will he feature in the future?

No worries, dude, I talk about this AU so much that even I forget what I’ve already said 🤣

And Lukas already has Dewey at the start of the fic, he found him on the street about two years before the events of the plot and brought him home. He convinced Aiden to let him stay, because while Aiden may be a jerk and a terrible roommate, he’s still a cat person and he doesn’t mind as long as Dewey isn’t in the way.

Also Dewey isn’t an ocelot, he’s just a regular cat.

[the-admin-but-dumber]

Taller Wife; Is blessing or curse? 🤨

This entire thing was literally because of the ‘I Love My Big WIfe’ audio from the MBMbam podcast, Romeo likes his very tall spouse because said spouse always saves him from people trying to beat him up post-defeat. Romeo going from 7′5 to 6′2 is absolutely hilarious though.

[hyperfixations-ahoy]

Let it be known that Soren (his voice actor, that is) believes that a hot dog is not a sandwich

if you believe a hot dog is a sandwich then Soren officially hates you

[purplesunset9112]

Lukas : HELP! I TOLD CASSIE I'D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN'T COOK!

Aiden, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag : And you thought I could help?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Okay y'all, step right up and place your bets on what game this post is about

(guesses are sourced from me, my friends, and the replies to the post)

[fictional-disease-fight]

FINALLY BRACKET TIME WAAAA

SIDE A

the rot (rain world) vs the infection (hollow knight)

hanahaki (source not consistent based on submissions) vs alexandrias genesis (tumblr)

metal virus (sonic) vs NIDS (sonic)

the cheese touch (diary of a wimpy kid) vs cooties (real life)

the suds (spongebob) vs pon farr (star trek)

the sphinx (the mechanisms - ulysses dies at dawn) vs marni wallace's blood disease (repo! the genetic opera)

stand virus (jojos bizarre adventure) vs pentapox (avatar the last airbender)

the apotheosis (the guy who didnt like musicals) vs despair disease (danganronpa 2)

SIDE B

greyscale (a song of ice and fire) vs sand pest (pathologic)

the scorch/the flare (the maze runner) vs scarlet rot (elden ring)

eleazar (genshin impact) vs greencough (warrior cats)

cordyceps infection (the last of us) vs cosmic rust (transformers)

lynks disease (this house has people in it) vs kalina (dimension 20 fantasy high: sophomore year)

radiation induced hanahaki (@cctv-catgirl) vs letumosis (the lunar chronicles)

pokerus (pokemon) vs the red death (the masque of the red death)

kharaa (subnautica) vs radical-6 (zero escape) vs wither sickness (minecraft story mode)

yeah i uh . accidentally made it a 33 bracket INSTEAD OF 32 so i just made one of them a 1 v 1 v 1 . some of these are probably a hydrogen bomb vs baby situation I AM SO SORRY please be niceys to me . polls will either go up next weekend or earlier . im gonna make a bracket image thing sooner or later

[stirpicus]

What are your thoughts on Minecraft Story Mode remakes? Often people have projects where they plan to make a S3 or a remake of MCSM, have you ever stumbled upon one of these or taken an interest in any? And even if you haven't what do you think of the idea of someone remaking the series, would you be interested in seeing their take on you and the writing team's characters?

I love seeing people inspired to make things, no matter the source of inspiration, but no I don’t really have any interest in seeing any fanmade MCSM continuations or remakes.

It’s one part snobbery - I have a hard time imagining any of them will be actual professional-grade animation, voice acting, writing, etc. - and one part not really understanding why someone would want to spend their creative energy remaking or adding to something that already exists (that they don’t own) when they could be making something that’s theirs instead.

But again, I wish folks all the best and I hope it brings them happiness and creative fulfillment!

[pumpkinupsidedowncake]

My thoughts on the relationship between Stanley and the Narrator: they aren’t friends or enemies, but a complicated and unbreakable third thing.

They simultaneously desire and despise each other. Their existences are fundamentally intertwined as player and storyteller, the two entities with agency within the game. While they both have what the other needs, they are incapable of giving each other what they truly want.

The Narrator needs to have his story heard and appreciated. He wants Stanley to engage with the story correctly, to make all the right choices, because he believes that will satisfy his need for an audience. But the story’s a game, inflexible mechanics and plot beats interconnected by flexible pathways and choices. Stanley is creating the story alongside the Narrator. It can’t function without his engagement, and part of that engagement is deviating from the expected path, testing the boundaries of every rule, making wrong choices for the fun of it.

Stanley needs to be given meaningful choices. He wants to be able to take any action he sets his mind to, which is and will always be impossible in this medium. Games have hard limits to player agency, either because of system limitations or artistic choices. And for Stanley’s choices to have meaning, they must be defined, which involves stakes and forced limitations. Hunger mechanics, for example, constrain player choices by making eating food necessary for survival, but without them the choice to eat or not to eat means a lot less. While you definitely can and should choose to eat mushroom soup in minecraft creative mode, it will never have the same weight as eating your last bowl of it in hardcore mode. The limitation, the existence of wrong choices that you will be punished for making, is what makes all choices meaningful.

(Obviously there are other ways of defining meaningful choices outside of right/wrong or beneficial/non-beneficial. It all depends on how you define meaning, where it’s gotten from. In this case, its source is pretty extrinsic, but that is not always so, even within the Stanley Parable. However, I will continue to focus on meaning derived from narrative context, because it seems more relevant and this post will already be really long without all that.)

Stanley needs the Narrator to make his choices matter. And to have a game to make choices in in the first place. He needs to see the broom closet boarded up, to hear the Narrator’s response to his latest decision, to know that he has agency in this world, that his actions are meaningful.

Both of them want to “win”. To dominate the other. For the Narrator, the game is made of choices that are rewarded, pointless, or punished. For the game to be “won”, the player should choose the maximally rewarding options in the shortest time possible. He wants Stanley to choose correctly and in doing so validate his own pride in the story. Stanley wants to “win” by exerting his own agency. He delights in circumventing the Narrator’s plans, whether for the bit or out of spite. The game is found in confounding the Narrator.

These two definitions of winning are incompatible, obviously. Following the ideal path and refusing to do so. Despite this, they both desperately want the other on their side. Stanley wouldn’t still be playing if he didn’t need the story. He could simply not engage, either by sitting glumly in a corner or, on a meta level, doing anything other than playing a video game. And the Narrator wants Stanley to have a good time so badly. He gives Stanley the correct keypad code almost immediately so he can get on with experiencing the rest of the story, and constantly tells Stanley what he needs to do to advance. But because they are so opposed in their goals, discord is inevitable.

That conflict is made worse by each of them taking literally everything as a challenge. The Narrator views Stanley’s one deviation from his story in the Countdown Ending as a declaration of war because surely choosing his own path is equivalent to saying he doesn’t need the Narrator. In the Museum Ending, Stanley directly disregards the Narrator’s repeated warnings, and in every cargo lift scenario, he purposefully and continually ignores what he is supposed to be doing. And every hostile response begets a hostile reaction, even when it wasn’t meant as hostile, which causes an even more extreme response, and so on.

It’s so breathtakingly petty. And yet they need each other, or choose to need each other. Each loop of the game is formed by both parties deciding to stick around for “just one more run”. They are suspended in a sort of equilibrium, like the day and the night, always separate and opposed except for the rare yet inevitable moments where the sun meets the horizon. They are a song laden with tension and resolution, a call-and-response that feels predetermined and new, a conversation preordained and meaningless and so very important.

Can you see what I’m trying to say? I feel like I’m either repeating myself or jumping around too much. Anyway, yeah. Their relationship is the act of gaming, or one perspective on it. Engaging with an interactive work of art that was created long before you came along, yet which needs you and your input to function. It’s not a book or live improv, but some beautiful amalgamation of the two. The Stanley Parable explores this combination of scripted and un-scriptable through the conflict between the Narrator and Stanley. This is extremely cool and makes the should-have-been-an-english-major center of my brain go feral. As you can tell.

[the-travelers-hub]

(Kind Mii trying to solve Stubborn and another teammate's quarrel)

Kind: Hey! Both of you! Fighting isn't gonna solve anything!

Stubborn: It will if I win!

Other Quarreling Teammate: Oh, of course YOU'D think that way.

[paused-waterfall]

The Difficulty with Semi-Lore

Semi-lore is a tradition in minecraft smps. It's a component of the medium that allows players to explore and express their characters without holding the whole weight of a server's story. But I think we all know that it has downsides.

When players are goofing around, and one suddenly puts on a lore voice and gives an insight into their character, it all goes smoothly. But when semi-lore is more extended, and potential plot-relevant events get pulled into that mode, things get weird!

For example: The Purg-nappings and escapes. We've seen a lot of different interpretations of the kidnappings, from both the players and the fandom. Some players have used the idea of getting abducted back to Purgatory as a source of angst, while others don't seem to consider the event canon at all. This allows flexibility for the players directly involved, but poses a real problem for those around them-- should everyone be scrambling to save their friends from being abducted? Are they being heartless if they don't? Or will doing that ruin players' fun as they're trying to relax and joke around on the server?

Personally, I think that large-scale activities should be "lore-enabled". If an event or a build is big enough that it's inconvenient for a player to avoid interacting with, then that thing shouldn't actively contradict lore. It allows players who want to do lore to not have to dance around confusing, half-lore factors. But that requires a solid dose of positive metagaming from everyone involved, which can be pretty hard to make happen.

[zero00o0]

Quiet

CW: mcyt g/t, fearplay, horror elements

// Hi! This is a new blog of mine (haven’t been on tumblr in years 💀). I’ve been stalking the mcyt g/t tag for awhile and noticed the tag was kinda dying so I’m making an appearance to fan the flames lol. I hope y’all like this story! Feel free to send asks and whatever lol //

The torch in his hand flickered, the flames dancing on the end of the stick as George gingerly made his way through the cavern he’d found himself lost in. He wasn’t planning on even going into any caves today, the original plan being to find some food to stock up on. But while he was wandering in search of animals, the sight of exposed iron tempted him. One thing led to another, and now the brit was lost. A single torch, some wooden tools, and a single piece of chicken to his name.

The sound of guttural groaning startled him, causing him to whip around and pull out his sword, putting away his torch as a result. When he realized that he covered himself in thick darkness, he scrambled to get out his torch once more. His hands shook fearfully as he looked around for his light source, and his attention was taken away from the horrible, inhuman sounds getting closer, and closer. By the time George found his torch, a green, decaying face appeared with the newfound light and charged at him. It’s dead hands grabbed at him, damaging him instantly. George screamed and tried to back up, but failed to realize that there was no passage to safety behind him, but a long drop down into the heart of the cave, right into a burning pool of lava. Before he could realize this, he lost his balance. George was falling, falling, falling… And as his body finally hit the scorching, agonizing heat of the earth’s hottest liquid, he let out one last scream of plea;

“NOOOO!”

George threw his headset across the room as the “You Died” screen appeared on his computer. He grinded his teeth in annoyance as he tossed his head back and facepalmed. That was his fifth attempt at playing Minecraft Hardcore mode today. The british gamer was determined to keep a world running until he could beat the game, but at this rate it seemed that personal challenge would take him weeks.

As he leaned forward to grab his bottle of water, he could hear footsteps sounding from down the hall. A moment later there was a knock on his door. “George? Dude? Are you good in there?”

George rolled his eyes as he stood from his chair, stretching his arms as he walked to the door to let the familiar voice inside. “Yes, Sapnap. I’m fine. Just annoyed at this stupid game.” He huffed as he met his roommate’s gaze. The American who lived with him scrunched up his face as he pushed past George to enter his room. “Uuh.. ok. Yeah, come on in I guess.” He said sarcastically, stifling an annoyed groan.

Sapnap ignored George as he walked up to the Brit’s desk, his hands on his hips as he looked around at the cluttered, trash filled space. George leaned on his wall by the door, waiting on Sapnap to turn around so he could get the hint that he didn’t want him in his room right now. But the man just shook his head as he dared to pick up a crushed can of Sprite. “How long have you been in here?” Sapnap asked, revulsion dripping from his words. George just scoffed. “Why?” He asked. Sapnap turned around to finally face him.

“Dude, me and Karl moved in with you because we thought it’d be cool to, like, hangout all the time. But as soon as that first week was up it’s like we only see you max twice a week.” George crossed his arms over his chest as he looked away from Sapnap. “What is this? Some intervention?” Sapnap shrugged as he tossed the can into the trash. “Maybe… It’s just.. There’s nothing wrong with liking games, I like them too but… you really need to take a break from your computer.”

George looked at him again. Sapnap also crossed his arms over his chest as the two stood at a standstill. Sapnap was waiting on George to say something, while George was waiting on Sapnap to leave him alone. But alas, Sapnap was a stronger man than him.

George sighed, dropping his arms to his sides. “Ok, fine. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m a little chronically online… whatever. But what else is there to do? It’s autumn, and cold, and the fun things are closed.” Sapnap raised an eyebrow and smiled. George didn’t like when he smiled like that. “What if,” Sapnap crowed, “I told you there was?”

…

…

“A cabin. In the middle of nowhere. In Ohio. THIS IS YOUR IDEA OF SOMETHING FUN TO DO?!?!”

George threw his hands up over his head as Sapnap loaded the last bag into the car. The American laughed as the taller American, Karl, put a comforting hand on George’s back. “Awww come on, George! It’ll be just like camping! But with electricity, and we won’t have to sleep in a tent! And there’s plumbing!” He exclaimed, his face lit up with excitement that even George couldn’t stay mad at. But he could be annoyed with it. The brit crossed his arms as he glared at Sapnap, who was playing with the car keys. The brunette laughed as he shrugged. “Come on, George. It’s only for a week.” He chuckled.

George looked back at their Floridan home with sadness, but Karl’s stupid smile and tight half-hug ultimately had George groaning and walking towards Sapnap’s car. “Fine. But I’m riding shotgun.” He declared. “Nope! Already called it!” Karl giggled as he ran ahead of George and tussled with him for the front seat.

Whatever. Maybe Sapnap and Karl were right. Maybe this little no-internet getaway will be fun.

…

…

Even after about 14 and a half hours, George couldn’t say he was having the time of his life. Save for a few fun singing moments, pit stops, and funny stories between the men, the road trip was very long, and very tiring. Maybe it was a good thing that George sat in the back for most of the trip, because Karl got so carsick that they had to pull over on a busy highway so he could throw up. Twice.

George was napping in the backseat when he felt the car come to a stop. This wouldn’t normally make him stir, but the sound of a car door opening definitely peaked his interest enough for him to open an eye. “Wake up, George. We’re at the check-in.” Karl reached back and shook George’s shoulder gently. The Brit yawned and sat up, shrugging Karl’s hand off of him. ”Do we have to go in?” He groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Well you don’t have to, but I have to pee.” He snickered. George, not wanting to sit alone in the car, followed Karl into the old, antique-looking check-in cabin. As George looked around the outside, he realized just how isolated this place was. The trees were huge, nearly comically so. The branches and leaves were wild and thick, blocking a lot of the setting sun’s light from getting through. He was half asleep while Sapnap and Karl were talking earlier, but he’s pretty sure he heard Sapnap mention the nearest general store was a half hour drive away from their cabin.

The bell above the door let out a ring as Karl and George entered the room. It was smaller than what he expected. The lighting was dim. It didn’t help that all the windows were shut with the curtains pulled tight. There was a rack with magazines and pamphlets on one side of the room, with some seating on the other. The check-in desk was right in the middle. An elderly lady sat behind it, talking with Sapnap. She couldn’t have been younger than 70. “Hi, ma’am,” Karl began, “I was just looking for-“

“For the bathroom?” She sent him a knowing smile. “You wan’ go down that hall, second door on th’ left. I ain’t cleaned it since last week, so I hope you ain’t no germaphobe.” Karl smiled at her, nodding a thanks before heading down the hall. She turned back to Sapnap and handed him a key. “As I was sayin’, This opens th’ front door, back door, and top floor porch. Y’all got the best cabin I can offer ya. I only hope it suits y’all tropical boys nicely.” Sapnap laughed as he jingled the keys in his hand. “Thank you! I’m sure it will.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of money. Rich bastard. “This should be what I owe you.” The lady reached forward and counted the cash with boney fingers. She hummed after a moment and looked up at Sapnap. “You’re off by twenty.” She said. Sapnap frowned and counted the cash on the counter. Cursing under his breath, he excused himself to look for more in the car. The bell above the door ringed as he jogged to the car.

George, not wanting to initiate conversation, turned to the pamphlets and pretended to browse. A still silence filled the room for a few long moments. “Have you ever been campin’?” The lady’s voice suddenly sounded, mildly startling George. He didn’t turn to her as he replied, “No, I haven’t.” He could hear her shift in her chair. “I could tell.” The southern drawl in her voice was both comforting and odd. George stayed quiet.

Suddenly it was as if a large gust of wind came out of no where, and caused the trees from outside to shift. The sound of branches scraping against each other and leaves rustling was a loud juxtaposition to the calm quietness a mere moment before. It wouldn’t have been strange, if it weren’t for the fact that George couldn’t hear any wind. Just rustling. George turned his head to a closed window and narrowed his eyes. He waited for it to stop but it didn’t. It sounded like it was getting closer, if anything. A weird, sudden wave of overwhelming curiosity came over the brit as he walked closer to the window. The rustling got louder. George reached out to move the curtain, when a cold hand suddenly seized his wrist, and with shocking strength, held him back.

“Don’t.” The lady whispered. When George dared to look at her face he was met with eyes full of terror. The rustling from outside stopped. Her hand shook as she held onto George, her grip never loosening, as if she was holding him for comfort. After a stunned second George pulled his arm away and stood back. “What the heck is wrong with you?” He let out, surprised at his own confrontational tone. The lady just shushed him as she inched closer to the window. “It heard you arrive.”

George felt his heart sink in an impending doom type of feeling. “What are you talking about?” What could be big enough to make those noises? Bears? He didn’t think there were bears in Ohio. And even if there were, would it be such a scary event of one appearing, that the lady who lived here would react in such a way?

Her eyes remained glued to George as the two stood in uncomfortable silence. After a minute, she let out a breath. She must’ve been holding it. When George sighed, he realized he’d been as well.

“It wants me to open th’ curtains.” She stuttered, walking back behind the counter. “It wants to see you.” George’s mouth was open in a silent shock. “Listen to me, boy. No matter how loud the trees talk, no matter how much you feel watched, no matter what you see, you can never, ever go out there alone. Never. Those who go into the woods alone don’t never ever come back home the same. Do you understand me, boy?”

“I-“ George’s voice faltered. “I SAID DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, BOY?!” She shouted.

Suddenly, a door opened from down the hall, and Karl walked out. His face was pale, and if George knew Karl, then Karl had definitely been in there puking the whole time. Thanks a lot Karl. The taller man looked at the lady with confusion as he put himself between her and George. A bell ringing caused George to whip his head around to look at the opening door. Deep down he wanted to shout “Close the door!” But, not wanting to seem crazy, he bit his tongue. Sapnap paused at the door, a wad of five dollar bills in his hand as he looked at the scene before him.

“Uhh..I found twenty dollars..”

..

..

“Ok… you’re gonna have to start over. What about trees talking, now?”

George frowned at the back of Sapnap’s head as he growled in frustration. “How many times do I have to explain, guys?! The trees started rustling, so I went to open the window and she went crazy! She said there’s was something out there and it wanted to watch us.” His voice was strained as he tried to explain the best he could, but honestly he was still shaken up from the experience. Despite that, here they were, back in the car and driving towards the cabin.

Sapnap shot Karl a look of worry, but the other just looked back at George with sympathy. “Dude she was… old. She’s just some crazy old lady living alone in the woods. There probably wasn’t even any rustling! I didn’t hear-“ George cut him off. “No, no. You can say she’s crazy all you want but I heard the rustling, and I’m not crazy.” He looked at Sapnap once more. “You were literally outside, Sapnap. Tell me you heard it!” Karl looked at Sapnap now, and the driver seemed to zone out in thought for a moment, before shaking his head and replying, “I heard the wind making the leaves shake, George.” To that George fell back in the seat and stared at the top of the car. “George.. dont let some crazy old woman get you superstitious. We’re here to have fun, remember?” Karl looked back at George, waiting for a reply. “Ok. Yeah.” George muttered, clearing his throat. “You guys are probably right.” He sat up again and Karl smiled at him. The boy turned back around and began playing with the radio as he and Sapnap argued over what station to play.

George looked out the window and tuned them out with his own thoughts. He was being too paranoid. That lady lived alone for probably years, in the middle of what could’ve been the creepiest woods in the country. Of course she was out of her mind. Who wouldn’t be? He shouldn’t dwell on it.

But as the car began to lose its connection to the radio, and the silence of the woods began to pour into the car, and what little light there was left of the sunset faded.. George couldn’t help but think about what she said. The woman never said the thing…whatever it was…wasn’t trying to see them…

But that it was trying to see him.

…

…

“Holy moly! Would you look at the size of that!” Karl beamed as he shoved his head out of the window. George leaned up to look at the cabin through the front window as Sapnap rolled up into the driveway. “I told you guys I got us the best of the best.” Sapnap said, pride swelling in his tone. “Don’t get too cocky, we haven’t even seen the inside.” George said. But he had to admit that it was nice. It was a two-story wooden cabin with beautifully elegant architecture. The bright lights already on from inside the building was a comforting sight, especially since it got dark fast. Sapnap just scoffed playfully as he put the car in park and got out.

They grabbed what bags they could carry and headed inside. Sapnap unlocked the door and led them inside. George gasped and Karl all but screamed. Inside was the largest living room ever with the nicest, renovated kitchen George had seen in awhile, all underneath a beautiful glass skylight, that allowed them to see not only the second floor, but the sky as well. He didn’t expect something this nice to be in a place like this, owned by a woman like that. He could see doors that led to different rooms as well as a staircase that led upstairs to what apparently was the game room. Sapnap’s been talking about playing pool since they started this vacation.

“Alright. How about we get the rest of our bags in and head to bed? It’s late.” Karl suggested, wiping a bead of sweat off of his forehead, mumbling briefly about the heat as he dropped his bags where he stood. The other two agreed and dropped their bags as well, heading back to the car to get the rest of their things.

As they walked back to the car, George took a moment to look out into the dark surroundings. He’d never lived anywhere remote before. His whole life, even back in England, he’d lived in the city. The lights never went dark there, and he liked that. It beat going outside at night to take out the trash and not being able to see anything around you.

As he stared into the seemingly endless blackness, he couldn’t stop his mind from thinking back to the old lady. He wanted to believe she was crazy and move on, he really did, but she just seemed so… scared. All of her windows were shut and covered. Not just one, but all of them. As creepy as the woods were, they were also pleasant to look at in the day. Why would she, someone who chose to live in them, cover all the ways of seeing them unless she was truly terrified of something out there. Something watching her. George’s eyes were looking around. He felt like he didn’t have control over his wandering gaze as he scanned the edge of the trees.

He was about to turn his head away when he saw a heap of shadows rapidly retreat into the trees.

George froze. His heart stopped in his chest and his breath hitched. He fixed on the spot where the darkness was and the trees began, his eyes stuck open, fearful that if they were to close that he’d miss something. He stared at the spot with alarming stillness. What was that? Whatever it was, it was big enough to even overshadow the large trees. George gulped as he could faintly hear something. Shifting. Rustling. Like the wind was lightly blowing the branches once more, but George felt no gusts of air hit his sweaty skin. And yet…

“George! Dude! Come on, there’s only a few more bags in there.” The sound of Sapnap’s voice forced George out of his trance, and he dared to turn his head away from the trees to look at him. Sapnap gave George a questioning gaze. George glanced back at the trees momentarily. Nothing. Not even a sound. He turned back and cleared his throat. “Never been in the woods before.” He said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “It’s weird out here.” He said, forcing a smile. Sapnap and Karl already thought he was freaking out, he didn’t need to make them think it was worse. “Well you can daydream all you want after you get the last bags.” Sapnap walked back inside the cabin, following Karl. George heaved a sigh as he buried his face in his palms. He had to get himself together. He was getting too paranoid. She was just a crazy old lady.

There was nothing out there.

…

…

“Dude! Ow, don’t splash me! That water is hot, what the heck is wrong with you?!” Karl complained as he ducked for cover behind a chair as George and Sapnap laughed, trying to splash the boy with the water from the hot tub. They did invite Karl to get in, but the boy refused, opting to just sit outside and talk with them instead. He claimed it was already warm outside, but the other two called him crazy since it was literally 50°F.

It’s been three days since they arrived at the cabin. And honestly, it has been some of the best fun George has had in awhile. Despite George’s hesitance, they went out and explored the woods the first day. It was so beautiful, that not even George’s paranoia kept him from enjoying himself. And not to mention that they didn’t hear or see anything, and no rustling happened without the wind’s help. The forest was quiet, and tranquil, not even the sounds of birds or other rodents could be heard. The second day they all played pool, which George lost pitifully at. He felt annoyed, but it was all in good fun. They even made chicken (that they brought from home). It was honestly delicious, and at that point George wasn’t even thinking about the occurrence at the check-in cabin. And now here they were, the night of the third day, having the time of their lives on the second floor porch. No rustling, or scary wilderness noises to be heard. Just the comforting laughter of his best friends. George honestly felt embarrassed that he was so worked up the other day. A monster in the woods! How stupid.

“Well, what’d I tell you, George? I told you that we’d have fun!” Sapnap gloated, sitting back in the hot tub, relaxing. George rolled his eyes endearingly. “Fine, okay, you were right. I really needed to get out of my room. Thanks, Sap.” Sapnap over-exaggeratingly placed a hand on his heart and open his mouth in shock. He could hear Karl laughing softly as well. “George? Giving me a compliment? Maybe this place is haunted by the scary woods monster!” George replied by splashing him right in the face. Sapnap laughed as he spit out the water that’d gotten into his mouth.

“How are you guys still in there? It’s so hot out..” George and Sapnap looked over to Karl. He was sitting on one of the stools and was facing the two men in the hot tub. He was wearing a muscle shirt and basketball shorts. And even though the wind wasn’t blowing tonight, it was still freezing. George was about to reply with a snarky response, when Sapnap spoke over him. “Karl? Are you ok?” George glanced at Sapnap before looking back at Karl. Now that he actually took a moment to study his face.. he could tell something was wrong.

Karl’s face was red. And not just a normal red, but red red. Scarlet red. His eyes were drooping, not like he was tired but like he was forcing himself to stay conscious. He was slouching. He looked like he was on the brink of death. “I’m fine, just a little hot.” He said meagerly. At this, Sapnap hopped out of the tub and went to his side, an arm wrapped around him as he felt the boy’s forehead. “Jesus Karl! You’re scorching hot!” He exclaimed. Sapnap moved Karl from the chair, the boy only letting a weak groan of protest but not being able to resist much more by the looks of it. George was out of the tub by then, a towel around his green trunks as he hovered nearby. “George, go get my car keys. I’m taking him to the hospital.” Sapnap ordered. He didn’t have to tell George twice, the Brit was flying down the stairs and to the bar where the car keys were, running outside and starting the car.

Sapnap and Karl walked outside not a minute later, Karl using Sapnap as a support as he walked with shaky knees. As he watched them walk towards the car, he realized that the boy had probably been sick since the start of their trip, and just blamed it on car sickness. George felt a twinge of guilt for not noticing his friend’s true condition.

Sapnap and George helped Karl into the backseat and Sapnap went to get in the driver’s side. As George opened the passenger door, Sapnap stopped him. “No, George. You stay here. We’ll be back before morning.” The Brit froze at his friend’s words. He stared at him dumbfoundedly before shaking his head. “What? No! I’m not staying here alone!” Sapnap’s expression was now that of agitation. “For Christ’s sake, George. I think Karl being a million degrees and nauseous is a little more important than you’re stupid paranoia.” George flinched, and Sapnap’s face softened slightly. “We can’t leave our shit alone out here. Our credit cards are in there and our phones are in there, not to mention our clothes. The hospital is, like, an hour away. We’ll be back by the morning.” His tone was full of reassurance, but was still on edge. George opened his mouth to fire back, but the sound of Karl puking in the back seat shut him up. He shut the passenger door and stood back from the car, his arms crossing over his exposed chest as Sapnap started the car and drove off, leaving George alone.

…

…

The most logical thing to do is sleep until morning. He’ll wake up to the sound of Sapnap’s car pulling into the driveway, and be greeted by him and a better-looking Karl and he’ll laugh at how scared he was to be alone in the cabin.

And yet, here he lay, three hours later, wide awake.

He took a shower, put on his favorite grey sweatpants and his best blue sweatshirt, and immediately scurried to get into bed. He thought as long as the hall light was on, the doors were locked, and his window curtains were drawn, he’d be able to fall gracefully into sleep. Boy, was he wrong.

George turned over on his side, the blanket hugged tightly in his arms, eyes wide open. All three men had their own room, and they slept alone every night, so it wasn’t like sleeping alone was the thing scaring George. He was scared because if he heard something or, God forbid, saw something, there’d be nobody around for him to run to. The closest person to him was the old lady, and the check-in cabin was at least a 45 minute walk, and anything further than that being more than a two hour walk. He inhaled a shaky breath as his heart pounded in his chest. He was hyper focused on listening to anything that sounded from the outdoors. Thankfully, he could hear nothing.

Eventually George decided to sit up in the bed. He leaned over to the night stand and opened the drawer, looking for a book or magazine to keep him occupied. A disappointed look appeared on his face when all he was met with was a dust ball.

The Brit was going to try and go to sleep again, but thirst nagged at his dry mouth. He usually got water before bed, but tonight he was just too distracted.

As he stood up and walked to his bedroom door, he felt his body hesitate to go any further. The curtains in his room were shut, but the rest of the house had their windows wide open and ready to be looked into by any terrifying monster. He again thought of the old lady. All of her windows were blocked off, and she grew frantic at the idea of opening them, even an inch. George’s breath was shaky as he peered out of his door. It led straight to the kitchen so at least he didn’t have to make a scary walk down a dark hallway. He glanced at all the windows in the big room, and was relieved to see no inhuman monstrosities looking back.

Gingerly, George walked out into the kitchen and began looking for the cabinet with the cups. He checked all the windows again before he found a mug and walked over to the sink. He turned on the water and watched his mug fill up.

It was quiet.

The woods should be full of crickets, toads, and other activity but… it was quiet. Like mother nature was holding her breath. The only sound was the faucet running. George felt weird. Like, he was doing something wrong. Or was somewhere wrong. It was uncanny. And now that he thought of it, it felt this way in the woods the other day. Maybe he was subconsciously distracting himself with banter among his friends, but deep down…he knew something was wrong. The woods were quiet. Not in a peaceful way, but in a wrong way. Yesterday they stayed inside, but what George thought was the feeling of agitation from losing pool over and over, was starting to feel like how he felt now. Yeah, he was annoyed. But he was also ever so slightly keep his eye on the large, open windows surrounding them on every side. It was hard to describe what he was feeling. He could beat out it as something primal in him trying to take over his mind and make him run and hide in a little hole.

He realized his cup was overflowed and turned off the sink, drinking the water down as he leaned against the counter.

George’s brows furrowed. It didn’t make sense. He shouldn’t be so worked up, he shouldn’t have cold chills running down his arms and spine. He shouldn’t be working up a cold sweat, his heart shouldn’t be beating this fast, he had no reason to be scared. She was a crazy old woman. George wasn’t superstitious, he didn’t even believe in ghosts. Why, why was he so worked up? It’s like everywhere he went, something was watching him. But how? He checked every single window. The ones by the front door, the ones beside him, the grand ones to behind him. He checked every single window! There was no way, he was being watched.

George took a drink, and froze, the mug sitting by his lips. His heart stopped, his chills went still on his body, and his mind went numb.

He checked every single window, except one.

George’s body shook with anxiety. That primal feeling of raw fear filled his veins as he tilted his chin up.

The ceiling skylight.

He looked up to the glass ceiling and felt his entire existence shatter. He couldn’t conjure a though, no less a scream.

Looking back at him were two glowing green eyes, empty of light, empty of human emotion, focused on nothing but him, completely centered on every micro movement George was making. He shuddered as the thing seemed to perk up at George finally seeing it, as if it were saying, “Finally, what took you so long?”

Either it was too dark to see the rest of its features, or he didn’t look long enough, but the two green eyes was all he needed to see to get the hell out of that room.

Finally, after days, George let himself scream. He screamed with all his being, screamed so loud that he felt his vocal chords shake. He sprinted as fast as he could back to his room and slammed the door behind him. He heard the monster make a sound, it sounds like a bear growling, as he could literally feel the house shift under its weight, like it was trying to find George from the skylight.

The Brit was hyperventilating, he went for his phone but it had no service. He cursed loudly as he threw it on the bed.

Suddenly he could hear what he feared most, glass shattering. He heard it shatter and fall on the ground, and now he could hear the monster more clearly. It was animalistic sounds like he’d never heard of. Weird growling that he could only affiliate to a large bear or lion, but much deeper, much more evil.

George backed himself against the farthest wall as his body shook, literally shook, with panic. Rummaging could be heard from the other room, and George felt like being sick when he realized that it could only be the monster reaching it’s hand inside to feel around for him.

George looked around his room, trying to come up with a plan. He couldn’t hide in here, it could tear down the wall and grab him and he’d be dead.

His eyes flicked over to the largest window he had. He could run. He walked over to it and opened the curtains, peering out at the eerie darkness with a pit in his chest. It would expect him to stay in the house. If he ran, it wouldn’t expect it.

George opened the window but paused before he jumped out. He looked back at the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight. He stared out the window once more, beginning to rethink his spontaneous idea before he heard a loud thump hit against his door, and the monster make a horrible sound of knowing.

He didn’t give it a chance to tear down his wall before jumping out of the window and sprinting full force into the thick dark. Alone.

…

…

It was 4 am. The slightest hints of light were beginning to show, and George hadn’t slept a wink. Ever since he jumped out of the window, he’d been on the move. He stayed in the general vicinity of the woods edge, because the last thing he wanted was to get lost in the monster’s territory. He was exhausted,. Physically, mentally, emotionally, instinctively. He wanted to pass out, to let sleep take over, to rest. But he couldn’t.

A few hours ago he dared to look back at the cabin to find that the monster wasn’t leaning over it anymore. And ever since then, George had been making sure to never keep looking in one direction for too long.

Part of him wanted it to turn out that he was crazy, that he hallucinated the whole thing. Because ever since he jumped out of the window, he hadn’t seen it at all. Surely it would’ve been chasing him by now? If it wasn’t, then was it real at all?

But then the silence filled his ears, and that was enough to reassure him that he wasn’t alone.

It was looking for him.

George decided to stay put at the forest edge behind the cabin, where he could see the driveway incase Sapnap decided to make an appearance. He was tired, and was hyper focusing on the sounds around him.

If he just would’ve came out of his room, if he just spent more time with his friends, none of this would’ve happened. Sapnap wouldn’t have done this to try and make George socialize. Was this his punishment for being a bad friend? Was this the price to pay for being an ungrateful prick? George couldn’t help but curl up into himself. Sapnap and Karl won’t be back for hours. They won’t be back until it’s too late, and they’ll come inside and see what happened and think he went crazy. Sapnap will blame himself and Karl will too. Why did it have to turn out this way? Why him? Why?

A car could be heard in the distance.

George lifted his head from his knees and looked bewildered at the driveway. A familiar black car pulled into the long driveway, a comforting yellow light coming off of the headlights. They were home. They were home! He did it! He beat the fucking monster!

George stood, his body shaking as he balanced his exhausted body on the trees beside him. He opened his mouth to yell, but he was cut off.

The trees behind him rustled.

And the air was still.

George had his phone in his hands, and as he turned around he shined the flashlight up, and up, and up….

And two lifeless, inhuman, green eyes met the shine of his light.

George stumbled back, falling over. But what he didn’t know was that the space behind him wasn’t a safe field of open yard, but the hand of the monster, sitting in wait for George to fall right into it.

George gasped and violently writhed as fingers quickly wrapped around his form, he whined in fear as he tried with what little energy he had left to squeeze out of the cold hands that had him trapped.

And as the monster stood up, George let out one last scream of plea;

“NOOOOO!”

——————

part two? maybe 👀

[revenant-coining]

Minecraft story mode source flag? 🥺

[IDs: 2 rectangular flags with 7 equally-sized horizontal lines. color in this order from top to bottom: dark gold, gold, yellow, dark grey, yellow, gold, dark gold. in the center of the flag is a yellow circle outlined in dark gold. in the center of the circle of the first flag is a Minecraft: Story Mode logo. End ID]

minecraft: story mode source flags ^^

[pluralcultureis]

fictive culture is having a source so unknown that only a small percentage of people know it aka minecraft story mode

.

[roseselfships]

ARCHIE / SELF-INSERT NAMES

adult

it / he (aux.)

self-shipping for 13+ years

oc/canon superfan

polyam bisexual semi-fictoqueer

follows from @bananaruntz / @babyraccy

i am pro-fiction and anti-harassment. anybody can interact regardless of stance as long as they aren't rude or hateful. i do not read dnis unless i plan on following somebody; if i break your dni please just block me.

please no parasocial / real person self-shipping blogs

i do not ship incest or child/adult ships. please respect that and do not talk to me about those things. it makes me uncomfortable.

mdni

read below the cut for my fictional others, self-inserts and ships.

FICTIONAL OTHERS

i am not okay with sharing fictional others highlighted in orange, ones that have an ** (double asterisk) are ones im very possessive over; i have little control over the feeling.

ships are listed after sources and tags in italicized parenthesis

these are not all of my fictional others, you can shoot me a dm for more

benny gecko (fallout new vegas)** (benray)

aiden (minecraft: story mode)** (wulfden)

dusknoir (pokemon mystery dungeon)**

pikachu (pokemon)

carlos (saints row)**

eduardo (eddsworld) (diet fanta)

ganondorf (legend of zelda)

gene (mystreet)

whitney the bully** (degrees of lewdity, he/him) (whitney/jet)

astarion (baldur's gate 3) (aeryn/halsin/astarion)

halsin (baldur's gate 3) (aeryn/halsin/astarion)

matt engarde (ace attorney)

ashfur (warrior cats)** (honeybee x ashfur)

SELF-INSERTS AND 'SONAS

shadow grey (fursona; raccoon)

t.r. bancroft (accidental courier; human; fallout new vegas)

a5-50 (gen 2 synth; fallout 4)

wulfric (ex-/ocelot; human; minecraft: story mode)

spark (pokesona; pichu; pokemon)

palmer (rangersona; human; summerland; pokemon ranger)

archie (trainersona; human; pokemon white 2/aw2n)

kyle taylor (ex-saint, STAG; human; saints row 2/TT)

lukas (human; eddsworld)

layos eztergalyos (farmer; human; harvest moon ds)

honeybee (kittypet; domestic shorthair cat; warriors)

aeryn amanodel (sorcerer; wood elf; dungeons and dragons)

jet (human; degrees of lewdity)