we're having sex and you pull out at the end to discover your cock is entirely gone, dissolved (ive digested it like a pitcher plant). bye!
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See, the thing is, Grian isnāt lying when he says that the snails arenāt his doing.
He gets why people are saying that; the timeline of him finally getting the stupid book and the snails emerging from the sea line up near-perfectly, as if they were another manic machination of his boredom. Itās also the fact that they just straight up came out of the sea, or at least shouldāve- he swears up and down that the pink one shot down from the sky, he saw it with his own two eyes. But, considering he doesnāt control the sky, the pink snail cannot be his doing at the very least. And the teal one? The one that people are calling his snail? He just found it after a particularly stormy night, chilling on the docks, and he found it just so damn cute that he took it as a pet. Both of those arenāt Grianās fault. They canāt be, by that logic.
But honestly, by now, heās getting a little worried about the snails, in either case of his innocence with them. Heāll be the first to admit that heās not the sanest person on the Hermitcraft serverāheās not sure who is, really, when everyone has their own things going onāparticularly within the past few weeks, if the beard and book count as indication. His memory has been a little foggy for a while, so it very well couldāve been him putting snails everywhere, and he just flat-out forgot for one reason or another. Though, that doesnāt seem likely- heās strong, but not strong enough to haul a giant snail out of the sea and onto a literal freight train, nor does he have the patience to meticulously choose snails that are sturdy enough to replace the wheels. That had to be a meticulous and pre-planned process, something Grian doesnāt really have the time for.
This leaves him with three conclusions: if it is him behind the snail acts, heās not the only thing occupying his body. If it isnāt, well, thereās still something causing the snails to make their way through the works of Magic Mountain, and it certainly isnāt another hermit, based on their reactions. If itās a mix of bothāconsidering heās found himself freeing snails from the cages Scar put them in without remembering how he got thereāthen the snails arenāt so cute anymore, and Grianās just about ready toā
Toā
Heās justā
Where was he?
Right. The snails. Theyāre not his doing, pinky promise. Grian got his book, he filled the prophecy, and heās stopped fishing like itās his last day on earth. The bit is over. Heās moved on- why would he beat a dead horse into the ground like that? Sure, he can still smell rot wafting from the river, but heās Gemās neighbor, and sheās got that whole fish horror thing going on, so it very well could be her. Nevermind the fact that they were eating her lighthouse, and she wouldn't do that to her own hard work. And sure, she came to him when a snail chose her--the way he said it would--but she was probably under the assumption that it was his, just like everyone else. It wasnāt. Heās sure it wasnāt.
The snails would explain his white-hot anger at Scarās little cooking prank; the way Grianās skin felt like it was burning every time he looked at the pan. How, despite knowing that his friend was just messing with him, every instinct was telling him to kill him where he stood, no mercy. How it felt like the same seething rage he felt when Scar had fished up a copy of the book weeks prior, and heād done that very thing. And maybe, just maybe, it would explain how sometimes, on the nights where his dreams are the most vivid and gross, he wakes up in the Chamber, positioned as if in a prayer.
But if it isā¦
A streak of fear runs up his spine. The weather, despite his dedication to the sea released, is still stormy and grey. The water is still murky and washing slime up onto his shores. The dreams of the book havenāt stopped, despite him clutching it like a rosary on even good days. The whispers of the wind are an angry, menacing thing in his ear. He thought it would be over once he got what he wanted. He thought it would be enough to satisfy whatever the ocean needed from him.
There is a rod in his hands, he realizes. He throws it as far away as he can. It lands next to a clump of snails, who all turn to look at him with an otherworldly menace in their pitch black eyes.
Just what has he released onto his home?
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What is BigB afraid of (the most)?
I hope that I managed to answer this question and that the answer came out correct ^^
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i can't hear you puppet boy, so dance, dance, dance !
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Oh thereās these two Minecraft men in a cactus ring right now, I wonder what thatās about?
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like so
there's something kinda funny to me about certain ways scar tends to be drawn because it's like. okay imagine hypothetically you took a distillation of fanon scar designs and showed it to someone who's never even heard of a minecraft, and asked them what they think this guy might be like. we're ignoring context here, pretend we're showing them a ref sheet. and it's like, alright, here's a rugged looking buff guy. nice abs. lots of scars. he's got a smug grin on his face. very shirtless. he looks like the love interest in a bodice ripper. i bet he's got some dark angsty secret he keeps buried underneath that suave facade. but not buried too deeply, just enough to intrigue.
and then you go watch third life and he is like a cat whose owner keeps desperately trying to make him stop eating plastic.
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there's something kinda funny to me about certain ways scar tends to be drawn because it's like. okay imagine hypothetically you took a distillation of fanon scar designs and showed it to someone who's never even heard of a minecraft, and asked them what they think this guy might be like. we're ignoring context here, pretend we're showing them a ref sheet. and it's like, alright, here's a rugged looking buff guy. nice abs. lots of scars. he's got a smug grin on his face. very shirtless. he looks like the love interest in a bodice ripper. i bet he's got some dark angsty secret he keeps buried underneath that suave facade. but not buried too deeply, just enough to intrigue.
and then you go watch third life and he is like a cat whose owner keeps desperately trying to make him stop eating plastic.
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I just want you to know that you describing fanon Scar design as a bodice ripper love interest has had my brain in an IRON grip for the past several hours and I am this š¤ close to looking for the weirdest bodice ripper book cover I can possibly find for the explicit purpose of drawing it as scarian
oh, please do. i'm desperate to see this now actually.
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the most ruggedly handsome man you've ever seen in your life slowly and seductively leaning down to pick a candy wrapper off the ground while a tiny bird man sprints full-tilt across the desert to stop him from putting it in his mouth.
there's something kinda funny to me about certain ways scar tends to be drawn because it's like. okay imagine hypothetically you took a distillation of fanon scar designs and showed it to someone who's never even heard of a minecraft, and asked them what they think this guy might be like. we're ignoring context here, pretend we're showing them a ref sheet. and it's like, alright, here's a rugged looking buff guy. nice abs. lots of scars. he's got a smug grin on his face. very shirtless. he looks like the love interest in a bodice ripper. i bet he's got some dark angsty secret he keeps buried underneath that suave facade. but not buried too deeply, just enough to intrigue.
and then you go watch third life and he is like a cat whose owner keeps desperately trying to make him stop eating plastic.
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