#cracker adventures

[stiffyck]

Silly silly for trusting the courts jester

[stiffyck]

[stiffyck]

New villain on the scene

[minikinmission]

Made it home from the anime convention ✨

Bitty, Muffin, Crackers and Nugget came along for the trip. (I sleep better in a hotel if I have a snuggle buddy.) One of my friends got me the little squishy one in the front. I named him "Bao," because he's technically a panda 🐼 but looks like a dog 🐕

Crackers and Nugget helped me feel calm in the crowds.

And Crackers got to take a picture with a Lucifer Morningstar 🌟 I was so happy~

[wren-kitchens]

the crackers need to settle a debate

SO

opinions on the word ‘onomatopoeia’?

yes very nice

ew wtf no

.. what? (no opinion)

Voting ended onAug 9, 2023

please let me win guys

[wren-kitchens]

did someone say.. ange and wren hurt/comfort??

yes i did

this mayyyy have a part 2 later

wren listens cautiously by the closed doors of the greenhouse. there’s something—someone?—in there other than lilianna, but they don’t know any more than that. what if a mob got in there somehow- what if lilianna’s in danger? do skeletons know how to open and shut doors? they can climb ladders—wren wouldn’t put it past them. they realise their breathing has quickened and shallowed, and wren forces himself to calm down. no, not again. they won’t hurt lilianna the way they hurt judas. they won’t hurt anyone again- not if they can help it. okay. assess the situation. wren can assess. they’re great at assessing. assess- that’s a fun word to say isn’t it? they’re stalling. alright. assessing- actually assessing this time. if it’s a mob, they can kill it before it gets to lilianna—they’ll get in its way if it tries to go for her, and all will be well. if it’s a player… well, they’re not sure what to do then. what if it is a player? what if it’s stiff, coming to kill lilianna for what wren did to judas? they want to say it’s fair but- lilianna shouldn’t have to die for what wren did. burn their cafe to the ground, steal everything they own- steal lilianna. just- don’t hurt her for wren’s sake. what if it’s judas, though? wren isn’t sure what judas would do. yell at them? demand an apology? both seem like what judas should do, just.. not what judas would do. maybe wren would encourage them to yell- would apologise until their voice stopped working. yes, that seems like a good plan of action. ange though. wren has no idea what ange would be doing. she hasn’t spoken to them since- since the meeting. wren wants to apologise to her too- they would have, if they thought it was safe enough to be.. with other people.

which brings up a whole new point; is wren safe to even be there? is lilianna in danger because of them? and what of potential players? should they just go- disappear off to some distant land and hide away forever. would- would that be safer for everyone else? they’re panicking again. panicking is bad. panicking gets people hurt. lilianna calms them down. there’s someone else in the room with lilianna. what do they do? wren’s muscles seem to decide before their brain can fully catch up, because the next moment, they’re gently pushing the birch doors to the greenhouse open and peeking in. the first three things they register: 1) lilianna is safe and sound. 2) ange is in the room 3) ange is asleep, curled up in a protective ball in a corner. okay. that’s good, that’s fine. lilianna is safe. that’s the important thing—whilst players respawn, sniffers certainly don’t; lilianna is okay. second thing then—what is ange doing here? she looks- frozen; lips purple, fingers blue, shivering. wren knows immediately—the affects of powdered snow. since they have their winter coat, it’s not affected them as it does most players—as it has affected ange. the greenhouse is the warmest place within a 500 block radius—it’s no wonder ange came here. but- well, wren does wonder why ange came here. doesn’t she know they’re dangerous? she was there at the meeting where they- when it all happened. surely she should know. so why come anyway? whatever. now’s not the time to be worrying about that—even in the greenhouse, ange is still far too cold for a player to be safely. blankets. yes- blankets and- and hot chocolate and- oh! lilianna is practically a radiator, she’s that warm all the time. okay, good, fantastic. they can help- they can help!

cursing their shoddy handiwork, wren rummages through the chests, trying to find the coco beans without squeaking the hinges too horribly- only to remember that the coco powder is in the cafe front. muttering under their breath a few choice words that would have gotten them a mouthful of snow a good few years back, wren scrambles clumsily up the stairs to the counter. they’ve not had customers in a while—probably the powdered snow just outside the entrance’s doing—but hot chocolate was always the most requested item on the menu, and whilst wren seems to have a poor memory recently, their muscles have not forgotten how to make it. hurriedly, they rush up to their room (ignoring the pang in their chest at the sight of judas’ long-empty bed) and grab an armful of blankets and pillows. they can grab the hot chocolate in a minute, wren decides. when they get back, lilianna has already snuggled up to ange. wren breathes a sigh of relief as they notice the signs of potential frostbite clearing up. “thanks, baby.” wren whispers to lilianna, who grunts softly in response. clever girl. wren piles blankets over and carefully arranges pillows underneath ange, praying desperately the whole time that she won’t wake up. thankfully, ange remains fast asleep, much warmer now. next thing: hot chocolate. as they stand up, however, wren hesitates. it’s dumb- it’s nothing, really, just- well, it’s.. it’s been a while since they’ve actually talked to someone—even longer since wren thought they were fully lucid during the conversation. they kinda miss it. it wouldn’t hurt, surely, if wren were to grab their own duvet and pillows. it’s late, after all, and frankly they don’t think they can handle another night in that painfully empty room. in fact, even if ange wasn’t here, wren would be sleeping in the greenhouse. really, they’re just making the most of this situation.

as they carry the second bundle of blankets of the night downstairs, wren catches sight of the now-cold chocolate left on the counter. they pause, considering, before deciding that a mug of hot chocolate when ange is actually awake to drink it would be more of use. to say ange doesn’t stir as wren settles down next to her would be a lie. wren freezes, half leant against the wall, suddenly realising how scared they are of upsetting her. but ange seems to feel the opposite of wren’s fears, as she leans into them as soon as they’re sat. and wren- wren doesn’t cry exactly, just- maybe they tear up a little, and yeah, okay, they do have to suppress a sob. only a little one though! and that doesn’t count as crying, even as they have to wipe their eyes to keep from actual tears running down their face. it’s- it’s normal. they’re being normal about this situation. ange came to their house in what was clearly a time of need, and she fell asleep in their greenhouse, and now she seems to be gladly accepting cuddles in her sleep from them. wren thinks they’re handling it perfectly well, thank you. it dawns on wren, as they shuffle slightly to get more comfortable, just how exhausted they are. maybe they can stay here just a little longer; they’re sure ange will wake them up anyway, when it’s morning. just as wren begins to drop off, one last thought surfaces in their mind. ‘maybe i’m not a monster after all.’

[wren-kitchens]

*slides into room* did someone say.. warden wren?

it's loud. it is far, far too loud in here. wren can barely hear what ange is saying over the rain drumming on the surface of the lab, the lava bubbling in the walls, the occasional eerie noise echoing through the underground room. stiff says something, her voice overlapping ange's, and wren wants to cry. even their own heartbeat is too loud, slamming against their chest, pounding in their ears, joining the cataclysmic cacophony of chaos. that no one else seems to hear. they can't understand it; wren's head is beginning to ache from the onslaught of noise, and they squeeze their eyes shut to block the lights – when did they get so bright? – but no one else has even mentioned it. is it just them? he feels like he's going insane, how can they be the only one affected by this? wren wants to run, to escape, to hide in their quiet mountaintops until they stop feeling like they're about to throw up. maybe no one would notice – after all, they can't make out one sound from another anymore, what's to say anyone else can? suddenly, there's a hand on wren's shoulder. they startle, jumping out of their seat, eyes flying open. the fluorescent lights make their already aching head pound. they can't focus on anything – it's all just a blur of blinding sterile white.

wren's breathing is shallow, hands starting to feel almost staticky. everything is distorted and incomprehensible – the sounds, the room, themself. that mountain hideaway is starting to sound more and more inviting. how can they get away- how can they escape? there's an incoherent call from somewhere to wren's left, and they let out a whimper as it reverberates inside their skull. they just want to go home. why can't they go home? a blurred blob of colour breaks through the painful white, and wren tries so hard to focus on it; it's no use. it must be a person, as there's a garbled noise that has to be speech coming from it, but wren can't make out a single word. it's too much- it's all too much- they can't stand it anymore. wren backs away, hands over their ears, determined now to get to the mountains and hide until it's all over – but the blob- the person- grabs their wrist and holds them still. people are shouting, the sound echoing off the walls, drumming into wren's mind. they're sobbing (when did they start crying?), pulling desperately at the thing keeping them in this hellish world of sounds and light, but it won't relinquish its hold. why do they have to stay trapped here? why won't this person let them escape? wren whips their head around, looking blindly for any kind of escape, and only finding more colourful blobs, just like the one keeping them trapped. they're stuck, they're going to be kept here forever, there's nothing they can do. they try to speak, try desperately to make these people understand how much they need to leave, but it comes out an unintelligible mess of noise. that's it. they're stuck, they're never leaving this place, they- they have one more thing they can try.

eyes screwed tight, hands blocking their ears, still trying to make themself as small as possible, wren screams. a guttural, agonising, pleading scream – their last hope of escape. and it works. the grip on their arm is relinquished, and they don't stick around to ask why they ever tried to keep them there in the first place. they run, desperate to leave that otherworld of suffering behind, bent on finding the mountains again. it's dark outside – cool and dark and safe. it takes wren an hour for their vision to be restored, and only a little less to be able to make out individual sounds again. even then, another ten minutes to realise the insistent buzzing isn't the aftermath of the explosion of sounds, but their communicator. <1Bakasheep> wren? <1Bakasheep> wren are you alright? <1Bakasheep> do you remember anything? <LightOlives> wren im sorry i didnt mean to are you okay <AtypicalFish> judas is with me. don't try and contact either of us. you hurt them more than they'd tell you. wren drops the communicator into the snow. oh void. the colours- those colourful blobs- those were judas, ange and stiff. they- they hurt judas. who else did they hurt? who else will they hurt? what have they become?

[wren-kitchens]

hey so I heard we were posting cracker lore?

(cw for violence and body horror? ish)

wren drops to their knees, clawing at the wretched thing attached to their fur, breathing laboured as the spores drift through the enclosed room. they don’t understand, how could it have gotten so bad? they- they were so careful. ragged sobs shatter the silence, and it takes wren longer than it should to realise the sound is coming from them. the sculk is growing, ever so slowly, every so subtly, it’s growing. and wren can’t stop it. it doesn’t make sense; they knew this was a risk and they did everything they could to avoid it. they did everything they should have, they did everything stiff said, they- they believed stiff. when he’d told them what to do. when she’d showed them the safest routes. no- no, stiff wouldn’t- they couldn’t- “they did.” wren whispers, broken. “ah, there we go.” wren whips around, too weak to stand, baring their teeth at the voice- at stiff. at the enemy. “you were always too suspicious.” stiff says, almost bored. “you, with your books, and your enchanting table, and your cafe.” “why.” wren rasps. “why me. why us.” stiff grins, and wren almost flinches. because it’s not twisted, or unnatural, or wrong; it’s stiff’s voice, it’s stiff’s mannerisms, it’s stiff’s smile. it’s all, irrefutably, undeniably, unequivocally stiff. and that is possibly the worst thing it could be. “because it was funny!” she says cheerfully. “you guys- you’re so gullible! y’know, I love that about this group—you’re all so trusting.” “you did this to me- what, for a laugh?” wren spits. “yeah, pretty much.” stiff shrugs. “it was worth it though. oh, look at your face!” “i’ll tell them.” wren says. “you know that.” stiff waves their hand. “well… you would! if you could, that is.” wren stares at him. “what do you mean.” “who do you think spread the spores in here?” stiff moves towards wren, slowly, as if they have all the time in the world. “you can’t stand, wren, and you really haven’t been here for that long.”

wren’s breath sticks in their throat, and they almost choke. “oh, and see- there’s one thing about sculk,” stiff crouches in front of wren. “and it’s that—you really do not want it in your blood.” before wren has any chance to react, stiff grabs them by the neck and yanks them bodily forward. he slides out a knife from a pocket on their shirt, and wren tries to pull away, but stiff’s grip is vicelike. “don’t worry,” stiff smiles, holding it against their fur. “this will only hurt a lot.” wren screams as stiff slices through their skin. before the blood even has time to seep out, a cold pierces the wound, and wren stares at the ever-smiling stiff. “why.” they manage, voice barely a whisper as the sculk invades their cardiovascular system—an ice cold blade deactivating any defence their body might have. “do I need a reason?” stiff shrugs, dropping their neck and leaving them in a pile on the floor. “is ‘for fun’ not good enough?” “you.. were my- my friend.” wren hisses, half blinded by the pain. stiff laughs, something wren used to associate with sunlight and blossoms and wheat. “no, I wasn’t.”