#gray shulker box

[daily-mc-block]

Gray Shulker Box

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

Day 4: Shrink Ray

Using my own prompt list: here. You can also read this and every prompt as they come on AO3.

Summary:

Zed has a super fun and awesome new challenge for Tango. It does require some.. size adjustments!

"Tango! Tango! Tango!"

"Zed! Zed! Zed!" Tango repeated, chuckling as he let the shulker box closed, standing for his friend. "What can I do for you buddy?"

Zed had a grin that meant something very silly and very fun was about to happen, which was the usual expression Zed had. It was pretty fantastic having a friend like him. 

"You're going to love this one," he insisted, hands flapping at his side, "Wanna follow me?"

Tango glanced down at his shulker box and the project of redstone behind him. He really should get this finished… but a few hours working with Zed was worth it. "Yeah, hold on," he broke away the shulker box and set it back into an enderchest. Once everything was just tidy enough that it wouldn't be overwhelming to return to he took Zedaph's hand. 

Surprisingly Zed didn't lead him back to his base, instead leading him underground. The facility was made of concrete and quartz, purposefully looking sterile and like a mad scientist lab, though it only seemed to be a long hallway that led to a small room with a gray stained glass window that looked into a large room. Inside the large room was a giant thing with a big red X painted on the floor where it was pointed, and to the side was a small maze, made for something about the size of a frog or even an endermite, with a cake sat in the middle.

Tango couldn't help the giggles, "Well this isn't ominous at all!" 

"I know right! Very comforting. There's even cake!" Zed replied with a grin, flipping a lever and the bright overhead lights turned on, "Now, Tango, I think you know where I want you."

"I can take a guess. Do I- Do I get to know what you're going to be blasting me with?" 

"You'll know very soon. Right this way," Zed said in lieu of explaining, opening an iron door and standing aside to let Tango through first. 

Anybody but Zed Tango would be turning the other direction and running for the hills, but there was always something so fun with Zed's tasks or experiments. Even if he ended up dead he would die laughing and cheering. He stepped through the iron door, barely containing a yelp as it slammed shut behind him, and walked down the few stairs (there was a bed at the bottom and he set his spawn) and into the big room.

He waved to Zed through the window and stood a few steps to the left of the red X, "Here?" 

He could see Zed's exasperated sighing and giggled. "To the right, Tango! On the X! Come on, you got the easy part. For now, that is."

Tango raised an eyebrow as that but swiftly moved over on top of the X, "Okay. Okay. Here then?" 

"Perfect! Now I need you to stand very still. I'be only tested this on sheep so far, and if they wriggled too much they died," Zed explained as he pressed a button in front of him. 

His laughter got slightly more nervous, "Noted! Staying still." 

The machine started lighting up, flashing a spiral of blues and purple, and humming lowly as it powered up. He hadn’t the faintest idea what was going to occur, but the pure yellow beam of light completely washed over him. He looked down, observing his arms and legs, trying to see what it was doing to him; if it was giving him polka dots or turing his outfit into a bright pink leotard. On the surface it didn’t look like it was doing anything. He looked up at Zedaph through the observation window to see him grinning, so it must of been working. He looked back at the machine– and then he had to look up at the machine, cause it was significantly larger than it was a moment ago. Another glance at Zed, and then the rest of the room, proved just what he thought, everything else had gotten proportionally bigger as well. 

Or, well, he had gotten a lot smaller. 

He burst into excited laughter as the machine turned off, “Zed! What? How!?” 

“The power of science, my friend!” he answered through the intercom. He pointed towards the maze at the side of the room, “Please enter, would you? There should be a ladder on the back.” 

“You’ve turned me into a lab rat!” Tango accused as he made his way over to the maze. He climbed the ladder quickly. The walls of the maze that he could have easily seen over just moments ago towered over him, and he wished he had thought to memorize it’s layout (but to be fair there was no way he could have known he was going to be in the maze). 

“You have one minute to get through! After one minute I’ll be adding a endermite for every thirty seconds you take, understand?” 

“Endermites? Wait- Wait- What’s the point of this challenge? Why am I doing this?” 

“Your timer starts-” Zed grinned, completely ignoring Tango, “Now!” 

“Oh geez,” Tango sighed before racing through the maze. He had a somewhat good idea where to go, but it was a lot bigger and trickier than he thought it was going to be. 

The minute passed before he was even halfway through, a note block chiming above him. There was the sound something like a gate opening and the chitters of a endermite echoed through the walls. He ran faster. Then another thirty seconds, still no end to the maze, and another endermite entered. Then another. 

It was two minutes and seven seconds in when he ran into an endermite, the bug that usually only ticked one heart of damage grabbed a hold of his leg and suddenly he was half health. He barely got a chance to scream before the second grab

He sat upright in the bed, laughing as he did. He was back to his usual size, which was expected, Zed didn’t have admin abilities. He couldn’t change his code so casually, this was more akin to a potion or beacon effect. He quickly made his way back into the middle of the room. 

“That was amazing!” He shouted up at Zed before yelping as an endermite bit him on the ankle. He crushed it under his foot on impulse. (He did not think about how it was possible that was the endermite that killed him and how easy it was to smash something so small.)

“Glad you enjoyed! Ready for round two?” Zed asked, hand already on the lever. 

Tango nodded, taking a step back onto the red X. “Let’s do this!” 

[radar-of-minecraft]

Minecraft Items Challenge: The Exploration Update: Finale

This post starts at my end portal, where which will definitely not waste my time.

A few pictures of me flying around the end at the start of my 90 minute shell grinding session, in The Exploration Update, looting does not effect shulker shell drops, so I had to visit about 8 end cities before getting my 40ish shells.

Weridly enough, I got enough XP from Shulkers to keep my elytra at almost half health.

Here's all of the shulker boxes freshly dyed.

and here's the collection update, in this post I obtained the White Shulker Box, Light Gray Shulker Box, Gray Shulker Box, Black Shulker Box, Brown Shulker Box, Orange Shulker Box, Yellow Shulker Box, Lime Shulker Box, Green Shulker Box, Cyan Shulker Box, Light Blue Shulker Box, Blue Shulker Box, Purple Shulker Box, Magenta Shulker Box, Pink Shulker Box, Red Shulker Box. This completes The Exploration Update.

[end-barrens]

a while ago i drew my minecraft skin, i still really like it

[hydra-collector]

whats peoples issues with bundles what did i miss

[pixiemage]

Through a Crack in the Void

Part 11 / ??? [ Previous | Next? ] [ Chapter List ]

[With the gift of clothes and the return of something long forgotten, Grian begins to feel more like himself again. In another part of the server, the admin ponders conversations, both past and future.]

{This story can also be found on Archive of our Own}

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Trying on clothes ended being both more and less of an ordeal than Grian had anticipated. He had realized fairly quickly that he wouldn’t be able to actually try on most of the shirts Bdubs had brought along thanks to his wings, but Cleo had convinced him to basically do a one-man fashion show with everything else in the shulker box. A few things fit him fairly well despite the height difference between himself and Bdubs. A greater majority simply weren’t his style or didn’t sit well on him, but a few pants and shorts were set aside for Cleo to alter and one or two of the shirts were added to the same pile - ‘Since they look pretty close’, she had told him. (One dark gray tank top was immediately snatched up by Cleo for quick alterations, the back opened up and re-hemmed along the edges to allow room for his wings all while Grian kept trying on the remainder of Bdubs’ donations. ‘For immediate use’, she’d quipped. Her muttered comments about how he was ‘Swimming in Iskall’s hand-me-downs’ left no room for his weak protests, no matter how much he wanted to tell her that he could wait a few days and that she didn’t have to rush to get anything done.

She called him a guest. He thought of himself as an accidental invader. He didn’t bother correcting her.

There had even been a few skirts in the mix, though it was never made clear if they had been donated to the cause by Cleo or if they had come from Bdubs’ closet like everything else. Those Grian didn’t even bother with. Even if he was the type to wear dresses or skirts for costume purposes, they weren’t the kind of thing he went for on a normal day. (And even if they had been it would have been an impractical choice for someone who relied heavily on flight.)

The strangest part of it all was the sensation of so many different fabrics against his skin, his rather limited wardrobe from the past decade thrown into sharp contrast to the wide variety Bdubs had brought along. Cotton and denim and linen and wool…some of them must have come from outside of Hermitcraft, from a non-vanilla server or a vendor at the server hub market. There was a silk or satin dress shirt in the mix that Grian was a little sad he couldn’t try on, just to feel what it was like to wear it. But it wasn’t something he thought he might have a need for so it wasn’t worth cutting it up just for the sake of a tactile experience.

Among everything, there was a lone pair of black jeans that fit Grian almost perfectly save for the length of the legs, but when he cuffed the bottoms it was as if they were made for him. These he kept, not even bothering with asking for alterations from Cleo. They were comfortable and durable and - most importantly - a wonderful contrast to the light, airy, loose-legged trousers he had been clothed in for most of the past decade. When he combined it with the sneakers (which also fit, a minor miracle in his opinion) and the tank top Cleo had already finished altering (another minor miracle; he couldn’t fathom how she had done it so quickly) the whole outfit felt so different from what he had been wearing under the Watchers’ hold. It felt new. It felt refreshing. It felt like rebellion and defiance and…

…and it felt, in his opinion, a whole lot like freedom.

Due to the lack of a mirror, Grian had taken to stepping outside and using the water pools in Mumbo’s wheat farm to get a look at himself while Mumbo caught up with his friends inside. It was so surreal, he realized, after years of seeing the same purple-toned reflection of himself in the dark surfaces of glossy obsidian pillars and walls. It was surreal to see something different standing there opposite him. If it weren’t for the color of his wings and the lingering outline of burns on his face, he could almost pretend he was looking through a window to the past, to a time before Evo had even happened.

The opening of a door and the sound of chattering voices drew Grian from his thoughts and he turned, spotting Mumbo standing in the open door to the base and tossing a laugh back over his shoulder toward his houseguests.

“No, no! Please,” he was saying, smiling all the while, “take your time. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Then the door swung shut behind him, quieting the sounds coming from inside the house.

“What’s up?” Grian asked, straightening the hem of his new shirt self-consciously.

Mumbo’s smile turned to him and it brightened.

“Grian! Hey. I, er…actually, I have something for you.”

Grian blinked. He did?

“You do?” He glanced toward the door, toward where Bdubs and Cleo and the gifted clothes were hidden behind a wall. “I mean - I’ve already been given so much today.”

“Well - yes, I suppose so,” Mumbo agreed, chuckling slightly. He made a few movements in the air before him with his right hand as he approached, clear signs that he was going through his inventory. “But, er - this is…well, a bit different. Less of a gift, more of a return.”

“A return?” Grian’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. “What d’you mean? I haven’t given you anything.”

“Not recently, no. It’s from a while ago. I - well, here.”

Mumbo’s hand stilled and something red appeared in his grip, red and soft and so achingly familiar that Grian couldn’t help the gasp and widened eyes that came forth when he realized what Mumbo was holding. It was a sweater. It was his sweater. He had completely forgotten - he had left it in Mumbo’s care before leaving for Evo, having remembered at the last minute that the configuration of wool had changed over the years and that his favorite sweater might not survive if he tried to bring it to an ancient update like the one Evo started on. He’d had to go dig out old clothes from years past that still conformed to beta code structures, something which some of his friends had followed his lead on once he sent out a message to the group about it. Leaving his sweater with Mumbo hadn’t been the plan, but it had still been in his inventory when he was leaving, and he didn’t have time to move it, and Mumbo had offered–

With reverent hands, Grian reached out and took the proffered clothing from his friend’s grip, letting out an involuntary trill at the familiarity of the soft texture, at the feeling of comfort it gave him.

“You…Mumbo…” his words were watery and so were his eyes, gratitude and relief and an emotional whirlwind he couldn’t name welling in his chest. When he looked up, Mumbo’s smile was bright and his eyes were suspiciously shiny. “...you kept it?”

“Mate, of course I kept it,” Mumbo told him as if it was a ridiculous thing to ask. “You told me to take care of it, didn’t you? I’ve had it in my long-term storage since you gave it to me, and then when Bdubs told me he and Cleo were coming over with clothes, I remembered and - well.” He shrugged, scuffing one shoe against the grass and tucking his hands in his pockets. “I thought you might like it back. If not, that’s alright too, I can just put it back, but I - oof!”

Mumbo’s ramblings were cut off by a sudden armful of clingy avian, Grian’s hug knocking him back a step and making him chuckle. Grian buried his face against his friend’s chest and let out a breath, his smile hidden against the dark fabric of Mumbo’s suit.

“Thank you,” he breathed. Mumbo returned the hug without hesitation.

“You’re more than welcome,” he returned gently, a smile in his words. After a long moment he pulled away, casting a glance toward the sweater Grian was still clutching in one hand. An anxious look flitted across his face for a fraction of a second. “It’s - I mean, it’s okay, isn’t it? Stasis didn’t do anything to it, right?”

Grian let out a startled laugh.

“Mumbo–” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Mumbo, you spoon, it’s fabric. It’s not food. It’s fine.”

“Right! Right. Of course.” Mumbo nodded awkwardly, his face going a bit pink, though he brushed it away with a smile quickly enough. “Bdubs and Cleo are leaving soon, by the way. Just so you know.”

“Ah - right.” Grian threw a look over Mumbo’s shoulder toward the house. “I reckon I should say thank you, shouldn’t I?”

Mumbo let out a noise of fond exasperation.

“Grian, you’ve thanked them a dozen times by now. It’s fine. Though I think they’d like to say goodbye if you don’t mind.”

“Why on earth would I mind?” Grian asked, blinking his attention back to Mumbo.

“Well - I don’t know, do I?” Mumbo spluttered, throwing up his hands. “I don’t know why you do half the things you do. Here I am, just trying to be polite, and my best friend decides to tease me for–”

“Oh my goodness, Mumbo!” Grian groaned, laughing all the while, and shoved his taller friend toward the house. “Go back inside you nutter. I’ll join you in a tick.”

Once Mumbo’s chuckling form had vanished behind the closed front door, Grian dropped his eyes to the red sweater he was still holding. He smiled softly to himself and rubbed the soft fabric between his fingers. It was such a simple thing, really. It was only a sweater. Yet after everything that had happened, such a simple reminder of home and friendship and before warmed Grian’s heart like nothing else. He quickly undid the pair of zippers that were stitched into the fabric below each wing sleeve and pulled the sweater over his head, his fingers refastening everything with practiced ease as if it had only been yesterday that he last put it on. Once he had it on and the comforting warmth was beginning to wash over him he took a few steps closer to the wheat farm. This time, when he stared down at his own reflection in the water, Grian could finally say that he felt more like himself than he had in years.

Saying goodbye to Cleo and Bdubs wasn’t a very dramatic affair. Cleo made promises to get the altered clothes back to him as soon as she could, and Grian thanked them both - again - for everything while Bdubs shrugged it off with a grin.

“I should probably be makin’ my rounds though,” he told them as he glanced at the sun’s position in the sky. “I’ve still got a bunch o’ people to say hi to before I head back home.”

“Do you know when you might be back?” Cleo asked, finishing packing up her inventory as she did so.

Bdubs shrugged.

“I’m not sure. Might be a few more months. But hey–” He grinned, winking at them all. “–trust me when I say you’ll know when I’m back. I’ll make a big entrance and everything!”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Mumbo grinned, his hands tucked away in his pockets as their little group made their way to Bdubs’ and Cleo’s boat that still sat upon the shore. “Just don’t be a stranger, yeah? Shoot out a message now and again, even if it’s just to Xisuma. He’ll pass anything along if you want him to, you know that.”

“Aww, I know,” Bdubs grinned back. “Don’t worry about little ol’ me. I’ll be back before you know it!”

By the time the pair had vanished out of sight behind a distant shoreline, a peaceful sort of silence had settled over the little island. Grian felt eyes on him, felt Mumbo watching him, but he didn’t speak, simply taking in the sight of the sunset as it painted the sky above the ocean in a soft and brilliant array of colors.

“You seem happy.”

Grian blinked, Mumbo’s quiet words taking him by surprise. He quirked an eyebrow at his friend.

“Is that surprising?”

“Well, no, I meant–” Mumbo trailed off, taking in Grian’s appearance with a soft smile. “...you’re more like yourself today. More like your old self. You seem happier than you were when you first arrived. It’s just…nice to see you like this.”

“...oh.”

Grian’s expression softened and he looked back out over the water again, watching the pinks and oranges and purples in the sky slowly darken with the setting sun. The twitch of a genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I…I guess I am. Happy, I mean.” His wings fluttered behind him, his feathers rustling as they settled more comfortably against his back, ever mindful of how sore they were from that morning’s flight. “I dunno. It’s like it’s finally sinking in that I’m safe here. That I’m free here.” For however long it would last.

Mumbo leaned down slightly to bump shoulders with him, a bright smile lighting up his eyes.

“Good. I’m glad.” There was a pause, a quiet moment where they both seemed to be watching the sunset and enjoying the light sea breeze. Then– “You overworked your wings this morning, didn’t you?”

Grian spluttered, shooting Mumbo an offended look, but the knowing smirk on the taller player’s face had him deflating in an instant. He scowled and folded his arms over his chest, his wings drooping against the ground behind him

“How’d you even know that?”

“You were favoring them the entire time you were doing your little fashion show for Cleo,” Mumbo mused, amused. “Plus I know how you hold yourself when they’re sore. I still remember when you broke your wing a few years ago. Your constant whining made it fairly memorable.”

“Mumboooo,” Grian groaned, shoving the other player away from him. “You’re just taking the mick now.”

Mumbo’s eyes sparkled with mirth and his mustache curled with his smile.

“Heh, a bit, yeah,” he admitted. He spun on the spot and nodded toward the house, all but abandoning his shorter friend with his long strides. “Come on then. I’ve got a few of those healing potions Stress left behind. I’m not saying you should make a habit out of it, but we’ll get you sorted this once.”

“Only the once?” Grian pestered, darting to keep up with the redstoner. “That’s not a very good health care policy, now is it?”

Mumbo huffed in exasperation.

“Well maybe you’ll learn a lesson or something and take it easy if I threaten to leave you in your misery the next time you don’t follow doctor’s orders.” It took little more than a shit-eating grin from Grian for Mumbo to sigh and add: “Though if I know you as well as I think I do, that wouldn’t do much to stop you, now would it?”

Bright laughter broke out over the island as the sun set on Hermitcraft, soon joined by a lower chuckling that made the moment feel light and warm. It was a good day.

~  ~  ~ ~  ~

Xisuma checked the clock on his communicator for the umpteenth time, having not registered the small digital digits the last few times he had glanced at it. His thoughts were in a bit of a jumble, so he could forgive himself the repeated spaciness this time around. He wouldn’t have bothered checking the time at all really if he hadn’t told Grian he would meet him later that afternoon, and despite how reluctant he still was about being the administrator of Hermitcraft, he’d be damned if he fell flat on his duties when a new member was involved. True, he had given a few trusted Hermits certain administrative privileges to ensure there was always someone around to help keep things running smoothly, but this particular responsibility fell to X alone.

Plus he had promised Grian that nobody else would be allowed to view his player code besides himself and TFC, a promise which he intended to keep to the best of his abilities.

After checking his communicator for a fifth time, Xisuma sighed and banished it to his inventory along with the string he had been utilizing for the AFK fishing farm he’d been trying to build. (Admittedly, it was a bit of a cheat that took advantage of an odd string of coding in vanilla worlds, but it wasn’t as if he was the only person using one on the server. Right?) He slipped outside and sidestepped into the main storage room of his base, making sure the door had closed behind him before removing his helmet. It was set aside on a chest with a dull thunk as he scratched at his jaw, the quiet scritch scritch of his gloves against his beard barely registering.

“What do you know about Watchers?”

TFC’s question from the other day floated back to him, the same conversation that had been looping in his head since it had happened. What did he know about Watchers? More than most, he’d imagine. He was a voidborn after all and Watchers were from an adjacent realm. He’d heard stories growing up and knew full well how powerful they could be. How vengeful, if they weren’t the friendly sort. How aloof and self-righteous, even if they were. How possessive they tended to be either way, and how some - outliers mostly, but some - even went so far as to steal players away from their homes as if they were little more than toys to play with.

“Isn’t it amazing, ‘Suma? I’m so much stronger now! They taught me, they showed me–”

“–told me it’s the only way to finish my training. I won’t let you stand in my way. It’ll all be destroyed, and there’s nothing you can do to–”

Stop it.

Xisuma banished the old memory, though its similarity to some of the things Grian had told him was something he didn’t fail to notice.

“I don’t like doing it,” Grian had said, the day Xisuma had stopped by to ask him some questions about his arrival on the server. “They taught me how, I didn’t ask to learn, they taught me and trained me and then–”

And then. And then something must have happened that warranted Grian wanting to escape, that warranted him needing to, but for all his curiosity on the subject Xisuma wasn’t about to pry. It wasn’t his place, and he had already learned so much - too much - from Grian’s player code and from what TFC had found out from that friend of his.

“When I was still runnin’ with those circles, Watchers tended to be a pretty uniform bunch. Protectors of worlds, creators of new life, breathing code into the universe - all those folk tales people tell? Well, a lot of ‘em aren’t wrong. ‘Course, I’ve been away for a while, and my old friend told me a few things have changed since I was more in touch with everyone. See, some Watchers started spending too much time around players, and they got curious. They learned. I reckon a majority of ‘em are still like all those old stories - distant and holier-than-thou and such - but a decent number of ‘em started breaking off and forming factions. Some of ‘em took up different names - Kristin mentioned something called the ‘Listeners’, though I didn’t ask about it. Some of the factions are friendly, some of ‘em not so much. The friendlier ones’ll take in lost players and teach ‘em their magic, which sounds a bit like what happened to our new kid - but not quite. See, trouble is, it wasn’t just the friendlier ones that got curious about players. Some of ‘em see us lowly folk–”

“Tin, I’m not sure you can count yourself as part of ‘us lowly folk’.”

“...well, I’m close enough these days. But - right, some of ‘em see lowly players as nothin’ more than playthings. They’ll take ‘em in, sure, and they’ll teach them their magic, but it's often against their will and they’ve done unspeakable things to the people they steal away from their homes. If the original Watchers are what all those ‘protectors of worlds’ stories spawned from, then some of these darker factions? They’re why ‘destroyers of worlds’ is even a name people attach to ‘em.”

“...and you think they’re who got ahold of Grian?”

TFC’s eyes had turned dark at the suggestion and he had nodded, something pained and sad in his expression.

“Oh, I almost guarantee it.”

And later in the conversation, when Xisuma had told the older Hermit that Grian had given them the okay to look at his player code–

“You said he was on some server called Evolution before this, right?”

“He was. Why?”

And the old miner had let out a weary sigh, scratching at his beard and staring at the little distorted line of text on Grian’s prior server list in his player code.

“Well…if it’s the place I think it is, I think your boy’s old server became the site of an interdimensional turf war without his knowledge. There’s skirmishes an’ such that’ll break out between some o’ the factions every few decades or so, Kristin said, and servers can get caught in the crossfire. I’d bet you anything Evolution was one of ‘em.”

Xisuma was the admin, but it was situations like this that made him wish Generik had handed the role over to someone else - anyone else - back when the older player had chosen to leave Hermitcraft behind. X wasn’t built for this. He wasn’t great at this. He could handle misbehaving coding just fine, and he could make decisions for the greater server if need be, but large conflicts and complex player histories and emotional turmoil–

X took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, his ever-present headache returning tenfold.

Grian deserved to know about all this, just in case any of it was true. But Xisuma was reluctant to bring it up so soon lest he set off another panic like the last time he had spoken to the young avian. For now though - for now he could start with the basics. He could lay some things out on the table, see if Grian was willing to share any of his story, and when all was said and done - whether Grian opened up to him or not - Xisuma would add him to the whitelist with Grian there to see it with his own eyes. Whatever happened after that was up in the air.

Though - Xisuma summoned his communicator and checked the time, this time actually registering the numbers lighting up his screen - with how chaotic Hermitcraft tended to be, if there was anything X had learned to be good at it was improvisation. He’d figure it out.

And if it turned out he couldn’t, then Joe Hills would certainly be up to the task.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N: The red sweater! ^^ I've had that scene planned for a very long time. I didn't know how it would play out exactly, but I did know Mumbo would be the one who had been keeping Grian's sweater safe. (And since Grian was using his Link skin in Evo, it was fun to write in some universe-building stuff along with it.) And then we see a glimpse of the aftermath of X's talk with TFC...huh. Wonder how that chat with Grian is gonna go...?]

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[orcboxer]

It's a series of color coded shulker boxes arranged in loose rainbow order. Purple pink magenta magenta again red orange yellow brown brown again and that's the top row. Second row is blue light blue cyan green lime-green white light grey dark grey black. Bottom row can be any color but usually black.

Purple holds valuables (diamonds, gold, etc). Pink holds fireworks. Magenta 1 holds monster parts. Magenta 2 holds food. Red holds redstone, orange holds furniture, yellow holds light sources, brown 1 holds logs and planks, and brown 2 holds wood products (stairs, slabs, doors etc). Blue holds ocean-related stuff (boats, sponges, fish etc). Light blue holds exploration materials (maps, compasses, more boats etc). Cyan holds armor and tools. Green holds decoratives (paintings, pottery, frames, etc). Lime holds dye, wool, and beds. White holds books and bookshelves. Light grey holds iron. Dark gray holds enchanting items (lapis, unenchanted armor/tools, enchanted books). Black holds potions and potion ingredients.

The bottom row of shulker boxes can be any color and are for miscellaneous storage. I have lately started keeping a second cyan box down there just for moss, which is my go-to temp-block. It don't go in the rainbow tho because it would fuck up the perfect two-row gradient.

had a dream a crowd of people asked me how I organize my ender chest in minecraft and I could not wake up until I had explained every single slot

[aestheticallynotdeerlightful]

Spoilers for what I think impulses mega base will be! With evidence and potential spoilers!!

Drum roll please

THE WILLY WONKA FACTORY!!

Evidence gained so far

Eating Amethyst shards, which he referred to as rock candy on stream 7/21/2021 and his first 7/23/2021 stream (I’ll have to check but it should be after he tours his patron server )

“pure imagination” a note block cover of it, has been played twice, once in two separate episodes (I believe it was ep 08 (that or it was on stream) and the latest ep 10). This song is associated with Willy wonka and is part of the original movie’s soundtrack

In an earlier ep and stream he mentioned he wanted to get much more creative this season,

Gained a bow tie from eating said Shards, and showed interests in one of scars big hats, which both Willy wonkas wore

If you go on nameMc, a new update has been made to his skin! not only does he have the purple bow tie, he also has a light orange hat, this has yet to be shown in an episode; but knowing impulse and how fast he can give us content, we’ll probably see it in the next couple of days. Possibly even tomorrow or Tuesday

The layout for the base is so large, he has to expand the continent, perfect for a factory, and he said he would be working with tons of darker colors, such as black and grays with hints of gold (also mentioned on the 7/21/2021 stream around 19:40-25:00ish) although he also will be using loads of white concrete, specifically 26 shulker boxes full; aka 44,884 blocks

Wants to fuse redstone/technicality with aesthetic, could be good for the more- bizarre, elements of the factory, depending on which movie he’s leaning on, most likely the original one from 1971

This is all for now on this list! But I’ll be sure to make more updates when I get more clues!

All Streams and Videos can be found on his first and second channel impulsesv and impulsesv2

Updates will be in the replies!

[daily-mc-block]

Light Gray Shulker Box

[lunarblazes]

SIGHS. in case you were wondering, here is the context for the piece i rbed from @mikartisa earlier today! luna posting writing on main not clickbait? wild.

written for the mother spore au, an au made by me and a few awesome discord friends across a few servers!

tw: mild body horror, slight disassociation (not meant to be but can be read as such), self-neglecting behavior

Grian gets home late. He said he’d sleep, he promised he’d sleep. With the amount of promises he’s broken recently, he feels like he has to at least try for this one. Mumbo was so worried, and even if he didn’t know what was going on, he should at least try.

And besides, Scar and Mumbo would be over to look at his wings tomorrow, and he didn’t want them to realize that the phantoms were only kept off his scent by Bdubs’ diligent server sleep.

Which is a problem, because he knows for a fact that his wings are ruined. He doesn’t know how it got that bad, he doesn’t know how he didn’t see it, and worst of all, he doesn’t know why he can’t seem to care. But they’re coming over tomorrow, so. He’ll have to explain what little he knows about the fatigue and the pressure in his head to his friends. He isn’t looking forward to it. At all.

He lays down, properly this time, because Mumbo doesn’t count it as real sleep if it’s in a shulker box (and if he was to be completely honest with himself, he didn’t want to think about what the rot rooted bone-deep in his wings could do to him trapped in a box for hours). Grian closes his eyes and counts to ten, a tip he picked up from Scar after one too many a late-night building session. He opens them again and freezes, confused.

[You may not rest now, there are monsters nearby.]

He sits up, electric apprehension shocking him more awake than he’s felt in weeks (or maybe, ever). What?

Grian lays down again.

[You may not rest now, there are monsters nearby.]

What?

His wings are too heavy for his bones, now, he’s sure of it, either that or his skin has tightened, or the spike that’s been driving itself through his forehead like a demented unicorn’s horn finally reached the core of his brain, or— or it’s the.

He blinks, one moment certain that he’s lit up all of his base and all of the caves below, and there should be no reason to get that message on his comm.

The next blink flares out into spirals of black and white film, blossoming in his vision and casting the dark spruce around him in a rotting gray color. He swears he can even see the vignette at the edges, the fraying of the illusion, even the noise on the reels, but this isn’t a movie. He’s lying in bed, too heavy to move, glitching out. Trapped, his mind supplies, and the thought of the word makes his breath hitch in his throat.

He cannot be trapped, not ever, not by anyone— the hermits know better than to try it, after he nearly mauled Iskall for pranking him with an obsidian AFK box in season 6. It was a lot more lighthearted than the trapped he’s feeling right now, but it still sent a message.

On instinct, he starts running his talons through his wings, trying to pick out the rot. It clumps around his fingers, but there’s always more, and suddenly he realizes he can’t get it off his fingertips. It’s stuck like tar, strands like spider silk webbing off of his claws and greasily shining in the dusty noir moonlight. Gray scales fleck off into the air. His breath hitches again, but for a different reason.

This is… this is bad. This is so bad. He can’t move.

Suddenly, he is floating in the noir vision. His body goes pins-and-needles numb, and if he thought he couldn’t move before, well. He’s being crushed now. He can’t find out why he needs to care.

Of course it is, Grian wants to argue, snap at whatever part of his brain is debating this, I am light, I am the flames, I am the sparks, the lightning in the very sky, quicksilver and mercury and mercy embodied.

His friends call him sunny, like a solar flare, like the sunlight hitting the waves of the shopping district, so bright it’s blinding. What would they do without his light?

Something hazy, like syrup flowing from a tree tap, answers quietly but firmly, no, you are dark and dirt and isolation and run and hide and secrecy. you will be, after this.

He wishes he had the air in his throat to protest, but it’s taking knives to his throat, pressing the air out of his lungs at swordtip and the smell of gunpowder is overpowering, even though he knows that none is around.

He can’t blink. The filter remains steady, vignettes and noise. The pressure behind his eyes builds into tears, and he still can’t blink.

He lays there for god knows how long, with the watery moonlight as his only companion, and when it’s finally over, he can’t feel any part of himself. There is a feeling of his wings dragging behind him, of the warm, sticky jungle breeze blowing through the entrance of his trading hall, the jungle he knows Scar and Mumbo are in. There is the feeling of stumbling around, of learning how to walk again (it’s all so new, and he couldn’t describe it if he wanted to).

Grian drags himself to the outside of the hall, his wings like a leaden blanket wrapping his back in a static coating. He feels more like he’s been thrown into the x-ray machine and met the radiation head and heart first.

He looks out over the jungle.

Scar and Mumbo are going to see his wings tomorrow.

He can’t let them see his wings tomorrow.

(They’ll follow me, he realizes, deep inside his chest. I can’t let them know what’s happened. They’ll follow me.

The rot around his throat and lungs constricts, making him hack and cough. run, run, flightless one, run)

His body moves before he does. But in the end, it’s the same result.

[You may not rest now, there are monsters nearby.]

[kiwiwritescrap]

Part 6 (Parasite Au)

*pops out of shulker box*

Why hello

This chapter was rather difficult to write, so please do enjoy! (tw blood) -🥝 

Scar stepped out of the boat and onto the rocky shore, helping Grian out of the boat. A salty sea wind blew across the beach. He and Grian trekked towards the pedestal in the center of the small island. Sitting atop the pedestal was a dagger made of shining dark metal. The hilt was made of worn leather, a glittering ruby embedded in the end of it. Grian picked up the dagger. Inscribed on the side of the pedestal, was a message in galactic. Grian read it, as his galactic was much more polished than Scar’s. “What does it say?”

“It says ‘The path forward is not for the meek, you must sacrifice for the salvation you seek. Shed the blood of who you hold dear, this blade withholds one’s worst fear.’” As he read it, his eyes widened. He dropped the dagger, and it clattered to the ground. “No, no no no. I’m not going to-” He stammered, stepping back. “I’m not going to hurt you anymore.” 

“What do you-” Scar began, realizing what the message meant as he spoke. “Oh.” Scar picked up the blade and handed it to Grian. He rolled his sleeve up, holding out his arm. “Do it.”

“No! You’ve suffered enough!” Grian protested. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes.

“I don’t care. All I care about right now is getting rid of this parasite.” Scar said. “And I care about you. This whole situation has been tearing you to shreds.”

“I-” Grian started. Scar grabbed his hand, the one that held the knife. He pulled it to his arm.

“Let me do this.” Scar said.

“But what about the worst fear part? Aren’t you afraid of what you might see?” Grian asked, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks as he blinked.

“I’ll be alright.” He said calmly. Grian closed his eyes and slashed the blade across Scar’s arm. Blood dripped from the wound, and some of it seemed to soak into the blade itself, glowing red and filtering into the ruby. The gem glowed, as did the gash on Scar’s arm. Scar felt his legs giving out under him. He fell, landing on the rocky ground. He seemed to fall through it, floating through a black void. He blinked, and looked around. Hot air blew around him. The ground beneath him was sandy. The sun blinded him. He was surrounded by cacti. He looked at his hands. To his horror, they were stained red with blood. His skin was gray and scarred. He looked down and gasped, stumbling away. Lying in a crumpled heap of feathers, surrounded by bloodstained sand, was Grian. He was still shakily breathing. Scar rushed forward to his friend’s side. Scar lifted Grian’s head, which was bruised and dusted with sand. Below his left eye, a small, red, heart-shaped mark flickered. Beside it were two black x’s.

“How... how- could you...” Grian said weakly. “We... could have been.... happy.” The mark under his eye flickered once more, and then disappeared, replaced with a black x. His eyes went glassy, and he went limp.

“No...” Scar breathed. “This isn’t how it ended... this isn’t what was supposed to happen!” The sand below him caved in, and he fell into the abyss. He was in a spacesuit, falling through the void. Below him, Grian was drifting away, unconscious. Scar tried to force himself over. He looked down, and was hurtling through the air after Grian, who hit the ground with a sickening crack as his wings failed him. He sat on the ground next to his lifeless companion, blood spilling into the stream beside the two, turning the crystal clear water red. The water began to rise, surrounding him. He was floating in the ocean again, Grian being dragged down into the depths of the murky water. Scar reached for him, their fingertips brushing before Grian disappeared into the darkness. Scar swam after him, but was pulled down and flung into a grassy clearing. Once again, Grian laid before him, unmoving. Scar placed his hands to the ground, trying the resurrection spell. Nothing. He tried again. Nothing. The clearing around him grew dark, and he fell once more. This time, he simply floated in the void, alone and cold. Silence. A few tears fell from his eyes. Then, he saw a light below him, glowing a bright gold. The light grew and grew and encased him. 

Scar’s eyes snapped open.

He sat up, his head aching. Sitting beside him, was Grian. In an overjoyed panic, Scar tackled him in a hug. Grian didn’t ask why, he simply wrapped his arms around his friend and they sat there, embracing each other. “Did it work?” Scar asked.

“It did.” Grian held up a glimmering ruby that glowed brightly. Scar looked at his arm. The wound on his arm was closed, a jagged scar in it’s place. “And there’s a new message.” He was right. The runes on the side of the pedestal had changed. “‘Obtained what you sought, overcame evil thoughts. Return to where you had begun, and you will find your battle won. Those above will send a punishment, and you perform this spell of banishment.’” He read. “There’s a spell here.” Grian pulled a notebook from his pocket, scribbling down the runes. “We don’t have much time, the parasite knows that we’re close to defeating it, it’s getting louder.”

“Let’s go home.’ 

[calcium-rods]

(ID: Cubfan135. He is outlined in purple pen. Behind him, there are three thick lines that are red, orange, and yellow. He is wearing a light blue shirt with a red tie and gray jeans. He has fluffy black hair and is looking up and to the right. He is holding a Shulker box and a map. End ID.)

[t4tcecilos]

ok so we know c!ranboo is part enderman. but what about the other part? he said he's been dropping hints so uh. theory time!!! keep in mind i haven't over analyzed his streams so some of this may be off!!

since he's part enderman, i'm gonna go with minecraft mobs. so!!! what minecraft mobs are white/light gray?

we have: ghasts, silverfish, skeletons, iron golems, chickens, skeleton horses, wolves, polar bears, elder guardians, and shulkers. along with certain colors of cats, sheep, parrots, llamas, horses, foxes, tropical fish, and rabbits.

first, i'm going to cross off horses, sheep, llamas, chickens, parrots, silverfish, tropical fish, and foxes. while it's a possibility, i think they leave more to chance than the others, plus i haven't noticed many traits in ranboo from these creatures.

of those that are left, skeleton and skeleton horse are somewhat likely, but i think that skeletons are way more likely since they are humanoid. however, there haven't been many signs of ranboo being a skeleton mix. so cross off both of them. i'm also going to cross off elder guardians, because they are sea creatures, and as we know, endermen don't like water.

i will also be crossing off wolves here, becaus wolves generally like to have packs and choose sides, and ranboo would rather be friends with people than have sides. polar bears are also being crossed out, as they like to stick by family (thus choosing a side) and are somewhat aggressive in minecraft, which ranboo is not.

iron golems are interesting. because they have to be made or found in a village. an enderman could hypothetically make an iron golem!!! so it is a possibility. iron golems will only really attack if the villagers/people they care about get hurt, and we haven't seen much of that from ranboo.

ghasts are definitely a possibility, and i personally like that hc, but ranboo hasn't shown any remorse or hesitation for killing ghasts. he also doesn't mind the cold (and since ghasts are in the nether i imagine they wouldn't like the cold)

shulkers. i thought about it some?? and it actually makes a little sense. they're in the end, like endermen, so there isn't a barrier of no contact. they like their boxes, and personal space. also i just think it's funny. ranboo being a shulker sand enderman hybrid.

another possibility is cats, which could explain the panic room (cats like smaller spaces) and his slight fear when all of techno's dogs looked at him.

rabbits would also explain his slight fear of the dogs, and i don't think we've seen him kill a rabbit. also, rabbits are quite skittish, and although anxiety is very different from that, the two can be compared.

he could also just be.... player character and enderman mix.

anyways those are my thoughts!!! sorry if they're all jumbled lmao

please share your own theories, i like thinking about minecraft people :)

[ceaderblocks]

@chromations requested: Any and all mechanical things on the server dont work (including cybernetics and redstone). Iskalls cyborg eye helps him to see, but when it lacks maitenance, It actually makes it worse and everything is blurry and desaturated.

Iskall had been terrified when his cybernetic eye shut down promptly and without warning in the middle of the shopping district.

One moment he had been fine, trying to get to the City Hall to pay for a new plot of land, and the next he was on the ground, disoriented and in pain.

“Iskall!” A voice said, and Scar’s worried face appeared in his vision. “Are you okay?”

At least, Iskall thought it was Scar. With his malfunctioning eye, his sight was blurred beyond belief. The short bursts of pain from the cybernetics also made it had to focus. Iskall gently placed a hand on his false eye, hoping that if nothing could be seen he could focus with his human eye.

“Iskall?” The man - definitely Scar - asked again.

“Yeah- no. I’m okay.” Iskall stuttered, disoriented.

“Are you sure? You just fell to the ground so suddenly!” Scar helped Iskall sit up, a firm hand on Iskall’s back.

“My eye is malfunctioning.” Iskall said, grunting when another shock of pain originated from the port. “I don’t - ouch! Fuck.”

Scar frowned. “Xisuma said a shockwave went through the server. Everything redstone is slowly rebooting. I guess that includes your eye.”

Iskall suddenly didn’t envy being in Doc’s shoes. His eye hurt enough, he couldn’t imagine doing this with half his body.

“Oh,” Iskall finally settled on saying. “Well, hopefully it’ll turn on soon. Can you help me stand?”

“Of course.” Scar smiled, and helped balance Iskall as he stood.

“Damn depth perception,” Iskall cursed, tilting heavily into Scar.

“Language,” Scar tried to tease, sounding more worried than he meant. “What’s going on with your eye?”

Iskall removed his hand from his eye.

“Its super blurry and gray. It usually only happens when I don’t update it or when it needs maintenance. It’s tolerable.”

“I see,” Scar said, hooking his arm with Iskall’s. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to be your eye for now.”

“Oh?” Iskall snorted, taking a hesitant step forwards. Scar kept his grip firm and steady. “How much will that cost me, Mr. Mayor?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Scar grinned. “How about we discuss it in my office over coffee and some cake? I’m sure I could offer a discount of some sort.”

Iskall laughed, and let Scar guide him to the town hall.

(An hour later when Iskall’s cybernetics rebooted, Scar sent him off with half a cake, a thermos of coffee and a promise to take care of himself, refusing any payment or service from Iskall.)

(A day later when Scar saw the shulker box on his desk, he couldn’t help but laugh at the sign that accompanied it.

Damn depth perception. Makes me see double :(

Scar decided he could accept the cake.)

[griba]

brick & rosebush? :D <3

Brick: favorite building material?

previously answered here! (spruce/dark oak + warm textured blocks, or a lot of the new gray blocks!)

Rosebush: do you dye things a lot?

wait actually yeah lmfao, i never thought about it until now :'D like i don't wear leather armor much anyway, but i can literally spend >30 minutes just messing with the colors. and shulker boxes! i color-code all my stuff if i can!! and of course i dye stuff like concrete, glass, etc for builds :]

also i always have to have a yellow bed on me. if it's placed, then it has to have another differently colored bed next to it, but never side by side in the same direction (could be face any other way though, as long as they're touching). i have so many specific things i always do in general but there's plenty for minecraft as well 😌

[enderprtl]

Come Home

welcome to leo [ @autisticlalna ] writes a good fic for shadowrealms lore, then i promptly make the saddest shit known to man.

to anyone on shadowrealms, i’m sorry.

i.

Shay promised he would show up to the Orchid meetup. He promised to help with the renovations. Cara’s sword swung over and over into the walls of Orchid, sobbing violently. Shay was gone and they didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Green stood outside Shay’s empty house, again cleaning it for the third time this week. Their pincers clicked, holding a bucket of water to wash dirt away. It was eerily silent in the house. Carol and Reggie moved days ago. 

Reeja and the Waterfouls sat in silence, looking up at the gargantuan treehouse, the wind whipping through the leaves. They stood in a calm silence, mourning. Not death, no. They were mourning the noise, for it had died. 

Sara unloaded hauls of books out of shulker boxes, hair in a mess, eye bags forming under her eyes. It’s been two days and Sara hadn’t left the cellar of Spotlight. She’d been crying over the books. 

Legion stood in the empty PVP area, fingers tracing the trident holes dug in the wall. Their sword dragged along the floor, but they didn’t care. They lost their sparring partner. And they had lost a friend. 

Shay had been gone for a week, lore stopped appearing in those funny little chests with signs dyed gorgeous colors. The garden in spawn fell into disrepair, vines taking over the tree and flowers wilting. The garden outside Orchid was empty, every flower ripped out in anger. In sadness. In regret. 

“He went home.” 

“He didn’t say goodbye.” 

“Maybe he didn’t know, Cara.” 

“I never said goodbye. I never got to-”

Cara had fell to the floor, sobbing into their mailbox. Ardent was over them, maintaining a calm semblance of sadness. They wanted to cry. They wanted to scream, but they wanted to be there. Cara was shaking, slashing the walls for hours drained them of every ounce of anger they had. 

“He went to season 7, right Ardent?” 

“Yes. That’s where he belongs.” 

“I want to get there. I want to get to season 7.” 

“You can’t… not that we know of. You’re not whitelisted.” 

Nails scratched along wood, a low, baritone growl. 

“I want to get to season 7.” 

Ardent sighed, hand placed softly on Cara’s shoulder. They bent down and sat with the ginger as they sobbed. 

Everyone knew where Orchid was now, Cara’s screams echoed day and night for days after he left. Green landed, a sloppy landing. They came to clean. One mission, clean. 

They opened the door, letting sunlight into the barren hall. Cara sat wrapped in pale blue blankets, wide yellow and blue eyes locking with Green’s eight. 

“Came to clean.” 

A dry mrph. 

“Are you okay?” 

Another.

“You’re gonna have to go outside at some point.” 

“What I do with my mourning isn’t any of your business.”

A crack. 

Flux had erupted from the point of origin. It pulsed and spread toward Green. 

The spider ran. 

Reeja was sparring. Again. Always sparring. Their muscles sore, aching. They didn’t stop. The mask they wore was damaged, they didn’t bother fixing it, thick black and gray hair flew wildly. Legion came flying across the arena, silent. It was strange. They usually counted or made small talk. Not now. Legion was silent, an automaton fighting for something. Metal hit metal. Then. Silence. 

Somewhere. 

Somewhere new. 

Somewhere distant yet. 

Familiar. 

Somewhere, a little paranormal shadow spun the beads on the friendship bracelet permanently engraved on his wrists. 

...

...

...

And another sunrise on the Shadowrealms was met with sobbing.