9 Works by RandomCommentor
Listing Works
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Summary
He could feel the man’s relief, is the thing.
The doctor’s self-loathing was being slowly muffled by pain, the pain Owen gave him. The ever-present thick guilt in the blood that was blaring on the first taste and the lessening of it as Owen bit and bit—
...It was doing something for the vampire. Maybe that was worth pondering
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(Queen) Myrtle’s Thoughts on Progress at Ferros Keep by RandomCommentor
Fandoms: Original Work, Minecraft (Video Game)
07 Oct 2026
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Summary
The video goes on for another few minutes as the speaker walks around a half-built mountain town. She gestures to empty wall after empty wall, phrases like “place a trap here,” and, “protect from attacks from that way,” are thrown around.
Finally, the figure stands atop a mountain with the construction below. “In terms of eternity, this place is temporary, I know, but the people won’t be. Their loyalty will last as long as their memory does. This place is my unforgettable gift.”
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Sound returns, first— of water rushing around. Then the clank of leather and chain. Something has it by the wrist, un-fleeting, and after so long the contact burns, loud. Addicting.
“Hey Owen!”
Avid. A tired sigh is all the fear it— he- he can muster. He’s not dead. Yet.
But he thinks he knows why Avid pulled him out of his private hell.
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A tear slips into the wet fabric over his eyes. He doesn’t want to beg anymore. It won’t help, not when the point of him is to be consumed. There isn’t any fear he can offer anymore. This is it. Nobody came. His shoulders shake.“Aw, no need for that!” Avid booms. “You know, I've just realized I’ve not been a very good host. I promised you a break, right?"
Series
- Part 4 of We aren’t people, and I’m asking
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Summary
Legundo has a nightmare. Owen has to step up.
(can be read on it's own, details in notes.)
Series
- Part 3 of We aren’t people, and I’m asking
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Summary
He was gone. What was the point?
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And then the tar below Owen splits like a mouth, like the parting of waves, tunnels down and down and down and down and… is that… light?__
A post-canon revival story, and a long winded answer to the question ‘what would it take to get better?’
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Pain pulsed up from his leg, burning and encompassing, steel wool rubbing away his thoughts, the world, the past— almost as enveloping as the feeling of the hand on his face. Soft hushes, words, as a thumb whirls gentle circles on his cheek. “You’re fine. You’re good. Everyone is safe. I’m here.” And it was true. Owen couldn’t get up even if he wanted to. He was in Legs’s hands, harmless. He could finally breathe. His breath shudders out of him, whole and ragged.
Series
- Part 2 of We aren’t people, and I’m asking
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Summary
Legundo couldn’t get out of bed. Owen helps.
This is a semi-canon scene that takes place some time in the future of an Oakhurst-revival plotline. It can be read on it's own.
Series
- Part 1 of We aren’t people, and I’m asking
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Summary
Deep in the center of everything, there is a mind.
It pulls the world into being a pliable, gentle thing—into a home. The mind wills it so, and it is such.
Somewhere in the world, there is a person, or sometimes two, who thrives in the world’s gentle light. The mind in the center of everything loves them both, dearly. So much.
But before them, it loved another.
Somewhere in the center of nothing is a spirit. It’s being is scrapped so deeply, so violently, into the nothing it cannot help but be something. It has forgotten its name, but it is too much itself to die.
"Are you really giving me a choice right now, or are you trying to convince me so you feel less like you are eating me alive?"
Some sardonic snarl of twigs grows between them "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry too" -
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Summary
The glass in my hands shatters, the liquid-like potion rolls over my form, and I feel… very… very… Heavy? I’m standing now, not floating. Potions? Affecting me? “Peculiar.”
Something within the house moves. And when I raise my eyes to it, all I see is a blur of green.
And all I feel is an axe blade slamming into my chest.
I stagger back, just a smidge, and laugh, golden ichor cloging my breath. “Really? You want to fight god now, little mimic? How sweet! How novel!” I raise a hand, a trident fit for my power created at whim. A grin stretches from behind my mask to widen around my head. Oh, to kill on an even battleground, how fun. “On guard!”Or: Dream escapes early and launches his own apocalypse.
(Non-dreamSMP viewer friendly!)