#in the end these Minecrafters must commit to the bit

[jawbone-xylophone]

My proposal for a Minecraft movie is either:

1. Zombie post-apocalypse

2. Indiana Jones

3. Atlantis (the good animated movie)

4. The Alien movies and/or The Thing (but in the Deep Dark)

5. Dragonheart but we're rescuing The End while uncovering the fuckups of ages past

Most importantly, it must COMMIT TO THE BIT. No more laughing at itself, no more quips about how lame it is as if preempting bad reviews. It must be corny and heartfelt and genuine in its cheesiness.

And also just hire some of those people who put out animated Minecraft videos on a shoestring budget. Minecraft animations are a traditional art form at this point, let the professionals handle it. There better be some goddamn squares.

[billerak]

So I recently finished The Magnus Archives and it seems to be a light fixation (not hyperfixation quite yet but it could become one with time, probably after I inevitably re-listen to the whole show), which means I must somehow talk about it.

Of course, the main thing I've been thinking about is actually the fears. So I've decided I'm gonna rank them exclusively on a scale of "do not vibe" to "kinda vibe."

None of them are true vibes, of course. That's the point. But you know. Purely personal preferences too, of course.

So, let us begin.

15) The Corruption/The Crawling Rot Yeah I do 100% do NOT vibe with this shit. I hate filth and sickness and while I don't hate bugs I do hate it if they get into my goddamn food. The stories of The Corruption always fucking sicken me.

14) The Desolation/The Lightless Flame I... don't like the idea of burning alive. That's about it really. Nevermind all the other horrible things this particular fear represents. Don't think it would take me, though: Don't have a lot of connections or things to live for. If anything I'd maybe become an acolyte? Hypothetically speaking I would love to commit some arson against people (on minecraft).

13) The Buried/Too Close I Cannot Breathe If this was just claustrophobia it'd probably be higher up. I kinda like enclosed spaces, and I've liked the few times in my life I've been underground. That being said, fuck the asphyxiation part of this. Or the actually being trapped part. Swallowing dirt or mud flowing into your lungs or being trapped in a box that keeps you like a contortionist? Fuck right off mate.

12) The Slaughter/Butchery I have some experience with gratuitous violence. I wouldn't want to experience it again. Also, From the River to the Sea. Fuck Israel and zionists.

11) The Spiral/It Is Not What It Is So, episode 100 kinda seems to imply having ADHD actually makes you more resistant to the spiral, which I find funny cuz I have it, but... yeah, the idea of my mind lying to me is actually very present in my life. Also, The Distortion was The Backrooms before it was popular.

10) The Stranger/I Do Not Know You Kinda keeping in line with the previous one, I do tend to stay away from strangers and I've always found mannequins to be creepy. I feel like the uncanny valley is why I've hated 3d games trying to be realistic for so long. Nevermind that I care a lot about my identity. The part where they take who you are from you is... among the most psychologically scary things in the show. This could be a bit higher on the list if not for the part where they take your skin and stick you in wax.

9) The Eye/It Knows You We all have secrets we don't want found out, and I am actually a bit paranoid myself. Probably has to do with my self esteem issues. I hate knowing that there's probably nobody judging me as harsh as I do myself, and yet... Yeah, it's a doozy. Hot take tho: I find the eye statements to be mostly underwhelming? I don't think they ever fully manage to grasp the fear of being judged.

8) The Flesh/Viscera I find this one scary because I find it appealing. I find the idea of shaping my body with something like the boneturner to be something I'd fall into with my strange sense of identity. Also the first appearance of this fear lives rent free on my mind, though I think the reason it's scary is how disgusting it is? And that could probably fall closer to the rot?

7)The End/Death Fun fact: I made my peace with death when I was like... 12. I laid in bed one night, realizing the inevitability of my own mortality, and I cried for a while about it. Then I realized... if I can't do anything about it, then why stress over it? We all die. Of course, I don't want to die. I don't want my loved ones to die. It's something I am kind of afraid of, but it's not something I despise, so it gets the middle spot on this list.

6) The Extinction/The Terrible Change We live in a generation where this fear will probably come to be. That's the scariest part of it, I think. I don't expect I'll live to see my 40's tbh. Whether it's global warming or a nuke that takes me (or unrelated health issues), I am certain humanity will end by its own hand, and it's sad. Probably won't get to mars either. (certainly not with the long rat)

5) The Web/The Spider I'm not afraid of spiders, but I hate manipulation. That being said the way it's presented in the show is not that scary. Either it's a spider controlling you to torture you, or you're part of a scheme so big you don't even realize it 'till the end. Maybe I don't find it that scary because I've never been subject to the type of manipulation others have.

4) The Hunt/The Everchase I don't like the idea of being hunted or hunting, don't get me wrong... But I also don't find it particularly scary. Police brutality is a bitch. ACAB. I guess it makes more sense for animals to be scared of it tho. Not a lot of thoughts on this one, save to say the hunt statement in season 5 was probably my favorite? Idk I really liked it.

3)The Dark/Forever Blind I'm still kinda scared of the dark, but mostly because I'm afraid I'll step on something and it'll hurt. I stopped believing in ghosts many years ago and weird sounds in my house are about on the same level of scariness whether it's light or dark. Really, the only thing that doesn't push this farther up the list is that I don't like the idea of becoming blind. The kids episode during season 5 was fucked up tho.

2) The Vast This was kind of in the run to be 1, but they do mention they get hungry a few times during the statements about the Vast so I don't like that. Honestly, I find none of the fears this manifests as that scary. Whether it be the sky, the ocean, or the void of space. Also I grow excited when I think about the insignificance of human life in the scale of things, rather than fearful.

1) The Lonely/Forsaken I'm an introvert. Do I need to say much more? Ofc I have family and friends and stuff, and I love discussing things with people... but The Lonely's stories never seemed that bad to me. I figure if I were to get taken by it (I wouldn't, ofc, as it's not something I'm particularly afraid of) I'd be far better off than most people. Yes, I know, kinda funny that the 3 that went on the daedalus are the ones I found least scary lmao.

Took like an hour to write this, but... yeah, I think I needed to get my thoughts out there. Don't take most of the middle spots too seriously tho, they can probably be interchangable depending on my mood. Only top and bottom 3 are fixed in place.

[teddy-bear-d]

So…. Do we take this to mean that Grian is 90% of the entire servers impulse control?

[k3rm1e]

heyo!! i was wondering if you would mind writing hc’s for a reader who just had a major accomplishment but their parents don’t really congratulate them or anything, and then philza celebrates with them instead and tells reader how proud he is. i kinda want some dadza comfort rn :’) anyway, thank you sm!! have a great day <3

accomplishments

heyo!! i was wondering if you would mind writing hc’s for a reader who just had a major accomplishment but their parents don’t really congratulate them or anything, and then philza celebrates with them instead and tells reader how proud he is. i kinda want some dadza comfort rn :’) anyway, thank you sm!! have a great day <3

hello anon! i’m sorry i took a while to answer this. i went a bit off track with this and got A LOT more angsty, so i’m really sorry about that. If you want me to make a much more fluffier or mellowed-out version, i’d be happy to. please, read the trigger warnings before reading this.

i don’t plan on writing more angst-y things like this, especially not this angsty, so don’t worry. once again, please, if you would like me to rewrite this into a less emotional version i’d be happy to

cw: swearing

tw: talk of god and the church, slight manipulation, repetition of words

accomplishments:

  holy shit. you were in disbelief. a state of shock. one million twitch followers. one. million. followers. you were silent. shock can have many effects on a person. some scream and laugh out of joy, or a misplaced sense of mania. others cry, because they cannot handle it. some remain confused, because their brains are unable to conceptualize the event. you were silent.

  what should you do? would a “thank you” tweet be good enough or would it come off as insincere? should you wait to stream? or would that make people feel you didn’t care because you took so long? through the anxiety you could feel the true realization that you now had one million followers. like a truck, you were hit with the most excited feeling ever. getting up, you jumped around your room. you spun and jumped and cheered and whooped and yelled and smiled and danced and were overflowing with joy, with the acknowledgement that you had done it, you had really fucking done it. 

  opening the window above your desk, without a single fuck, you screamed. “WHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! FUCK YEAH!!!!!!” let’s just hope your neighbors don’t wake up.

  you stayed up all night, celebrating. tweeting out a thank you, you received congratulations from your fans and friends while you talked with the people in your discord vcs.

  in the morning, your mother and father had woken up. with a newfound determination, you ran downstairs. streaming was your passion and you wanted to tell the world what you had done. but, because of limitations, your mother was your metaphorical world.

  “mom! mom! mom! mother, mother, mumther!!” you shouted, dashing down the stairs, tripping over your feet. stupid wood flooring and slidy socks.

  from your place at the bottom of the stairs, you heard her sigh, “yes, sweetie?”

  you bounded over to her, setting your arms on the kitchen counter. from the hallway you could see your dad, who was sitting on the couch drinking his sunday morning coffee. “mom! guess what?” without giving her time to respond, you shouted, “i hit one million follows on twitch! one freaking million!”.

  your mother didn’t seem as enthusiastic as you. “is that why you were causing such a ruckus last night? and, watch your mouth, even though ‘freaking’ isn’t a ‘true’ curse, i don’t want you swearing. especially not on the lord’s day. i couldn’t fathom going to church everyday, only to allow you to have a mouth like that.” she continued to stare at her work papers.

  “oh, uh, okay mother. dad? did you hear me? i hit one million on twitch.” you awkwardly turned your head over to your father.

  “she’s right, you know that, don’t you sweetie?” your father stood up, and made his way into the kitchen. “language like that, it’s shameful. surely, we don’t need you to have a private session with father paulson, do we?” your dad stood next to your mother, rubbing her back as he stared at you.

  “no, no, of course not. um, i’m gonna go upstairs now.” you turned around, wishing you could simply disappear.

  “without breakfast? are you truly that upset with us? we can’t have you ending up like those people, committing sinful acts and going to hell. god would never forgive you. we’re already taking a risk allowing you to stream, putting yourself out there.”

  both your mother and father stared at you. your blood felt like ice in your veins. the white walls of your house seemed so much brighter, yet duller at the same time. everything felt a white-pure-pink-orange. your breathing got uneasy. choppy. in, out, out, in, in, in, out, in, in, out, out for different increments of time. 5, 3, 2, 7, 10, 9, 6, 4, 1, 6, 8, seconds, over and over and over.

  “we just wanna protect you, dear. we love you, don’t you get that?” your mother stared at you.

  you felt like a scene in those movies. the ones that directly cater to teens who thought their lives were shit when in reality they just hadn’t grown up enough to make sense of something yet. were you one of those teens? or is this actually wrong. you don’t think it is, but you don’t talk to others about this. family matters stay in the family was a common phrase repeated in your household. the church was family, they could know. your mother and father, they could know. others, they must not know, never know.

  “of course, mother, father.” you wanted to force yourself to speak, but syllables were incapable of getting past your lips. your mouth was full of peanut butter from the sandwiches served in your elementary school cafeteria. but, the partly frozen chocolate milk always washed it down. “of course. i love you guys too. love you.” you smiled, a disgusting smile that felt violating to exist on your face, violating, violating, violating.

  you dashed up the stairs, to your room, up, up, up. running in, you wanted to slam the door, scream out the window, puch your pillow, smash your pc, cry, whatever you could do to get out your emotions. but instead, you lightly shut your door and slowly walked over to your desk chair to see who was online. you would go live later. it was only 5 AM, after all. they could wait. at least, you hoped they could.

  opening discord, just to see what everyone was doing, you saw philza minecraft was online. you went over and messaged him, ‘phil. philza. philza minecraft. vc please?’ in response, you received a short, ‘sure m8, gimme a minute’ you waited, until you heard the noise confirming he had joined.

  “good morning phil.” your energy from before had receded back into the confines of your chest. the prior excitement was gone and replaced with a feeling of fatigue.

  “morning mate, how are you? congrats on the one mill!” phil sounded excited, happy for you. you smiled, chuckling a bit.

  “i’m alright man, just tired. how are you? and, thanks for the congrats.” you smiled, feeling the fatigue set in.

  “i’m good. but you, you don’t sound very good. couldn’t sleep, could ya’? that was how i was when i hit one mill. way too excited to sleep.”

  “yeah. yeah, i’m just tired.” you were getting a bit too tired to talk. the day had barely started, and yet the full-body emotional exhaustion had set.

  “‘just tired’? the hell happened kid?” phil’s voice sounded concerned. fuck. the last thing you wanted to do was worry him. he had his own life and you had already caused enough trouble today.

  “it’s nothing big phil, seriously. just my parents.” there, a slight bit of information. family matters still within the family, just a few words.

  “they being shitbirds? or are you lying, and something big did happen?” he was being inquisitive, which was dangerous. questions were dangerous.

  “no, why would i lie?” his inquisitiveness would continue, you knew. so you spilled the metaphorical beans. “they just, just weren’t as supportive as i’d wished they were when i told them. i was really psyched, y’know? and them, just sort of, not giving a shit? i don’t know man, it just feels bad.”

  “i get you. it’s shit, when people don’t care about your accomplishments. my parents never really saw streaming as a true profession in the beginning, which led to shit like you describing. i promise it gets better though, even if it feels like shit now. and, for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you.”

  “it’s fine phil, you don’t need to try to make me feel better. i’m okay, seriously.” you didn’t need or want his pity. accepting it would feel patronizing.

  “no, you need to understand that i’m not fucking around. one million is a big fuckin’ thing, especially for you who hasn’t been streaming all that long to achieve. it’s fucking amazing, mate. be proud of yourself, for christ’s sake.” his fake anger chimed through your headphones. even though you were being berated, you still felt better.

  “thank you, phil. i needed that.”

  “your welcome, mate. and look, anytime your parents are being shit, don’t try to hold it all in. call me, or wil, or someone, okay? don’t hold that shit in.”

  you fake sighed, just to piss him off. “okayyyyyy….”

  “good. now, go take a nap or some shit. i love you, kid.”

  “love you too, dadza.” this time, your words didn’t feel forced. the smile on your face wasn’t violating, but an invitation to better times. it would be alright. okay.

[prismartist]

The Devil's in the House of the Rising Sun

Fandom: Empires SMP

Words: 1032

CW: mild horror, mild body horror, vomiting, nightmares, derealization, demonic possession

A/N: yes i made an original "song" for this. i put some references to other Red antagonists from minecraft roleplays as well, see if you can spot them ;)

tbh this is just a call-out post for mc series always using nether blocks for supernatural villains. use end blocks or moss blocks for once smh /lh.

enjoy!!

Ao3 Link

- - -

Beware the Maroon, the colour of Hell The endless Nether is the shell Of sprawling dark rocks framed by Black Attached and covering the Devil’s back

Fwhip sings the old folk song quietly as he traverses the cobble bridges, dodging fireballs casually as he reviews his notes. The surrounding danger doesn’t faze him–being the Ruler of Darkness and Chaos, it shouldn’t, and he has more important matters at hand anyhow. The demon is causing far more trouble than he likes, and he takes every opportunity he can to study it. Committing its characteristics to memory will probably be useful.

The heat of the Nether doesn’t seem to be as sweltering, somehow. He hasn’t broken a sweat yet either. As the fireballs whizz by his back, they’re almost… cold.

Fwhip halts in his tracks as another Ghast misses. Did the Nether always feel this nice?

He ponders for a bit, then shrugs before continuing on his way. He must be getting used to it then.

Beware the Crimson, the vines and sobs Your love, your land, the whispers do rob Gives you death, and riches, and nothing less In return, gives back all your promises

Something squirms under Fwhip’s skin.

On most nights he jolts up in bed, unsure if he is forced awake by a nightmare or the uncomfortable feeling creeping down his spine. Flashes of a red room dissipate from his mind as a dark, thick, thing crawls down the back of his arm.

He looks, and despite the lack of light he swears he sees a crimson worm-like strand under his skin, pulsing as it pauses its journey for a brief second. It’s dense, reminiscent of a varicose vein, and Fwhip feels it straining, as if holding itself back from tearing his skin open.

It escapes to his fingertips, leaving a chill in its trail, and disappears.

Fwhip feels like he should shudder. He doesn’t.

Beware the Red Sun, of endless shine Its dust trails a bright, useless line The only comfort ‘cross endless yellow Blood dripping in a hallway narrow

Fwhip hums, kicking the red “Corruption” with a grimace. He should really clean these up soon. Not doing so might make the demon think they’re welcome, and that’s the last thing Fwhip wants. No no, he’s very pleased with his own corruption, thank you very much. The glistening redstone set in deepslate was much more aesthetically pleasing than whatever the demon had in mind. Who were they to impede onto the Ruler of Darkness and Chaos’ idea of… Darkness and Chaos?

Not wishing to frown further at the gross crimson (that was almost familiar; did it always remind Fwhip of something wriggling just under his skin, threatening to burst from it?), Fwhip turns his attention up. It’s a nice, sunny day, perfect for farming and expanding the Grimlands. He takes a deep breath, taking in the fresh air and the smell of gunpowder wafting from the farm nearby.

There’s a taste of iron as well.

How wonderful.

Fwhip finds himself humming a tune. Despite its dark tone, he knew it to be a song for children; it’s perhaps a little silly to be singing a lullaby.

Well, he can’t help it. He’s always liked songs about themself.

Fwhip stops humming.

Did he?

Where did he hear that song from again? He doesn’t remember learning it.

I learned it from the gnomes, you know.

The corruption hums lowly from under him. It might be singing along.

They liked it too.

The sun is bright. It’s wrong.

No, no it’s not. It’s lovely.

It’s sweltering.

The sun is bright. Red, even.

A breathy chuckle brushes against Fwhip’s ear.

That’s how much they feared me.

He can’t turn his head.

Was there something dense wrapping around his feet?

It’s wrapping around his neck too. It feels like a hug.

You’re doing wonderful, my test subject.

He tries to scream, but something thick blocks his throat. It’s wriggling, bubbling up. He can’t tell if it’s bile or something else.

The hug tightens around his neck. He can’t keep it down.

Perfect. So little struggle.

But for now, it’s time for me to move on.

Fwhip opens his mouth, and instead of a scream, Red comes out.

Fwhip jolts awake, scrambling at his blanket in a cold sweat. He glances around frantically, begging his eyes to adjust to the dark. Fwhip presses a hand to his chest, and feels his heart beating rapidly against his skin. At least he’s still alive. And not being eaten by red vines, judging by the lack of it wrapping around his body.

He takes deep breaths, trying to calm down. It’s dark (not Red, no, it’s just black), the outline of chests barely making themselves known. Fwhip clutches at his velvety blanket, and inhales the grassy smell of petrichor from outside.

He doesn’t hear a song, or a growling laugh. He doesn’t taste blood on his tongue.

Fwhip sighs and lies back down, his hand still on his chest, as if trying to keep his heart–or something else–inside of it. He tries to goes back to sleep, his quiet mind somewhat alleviating the unease.

He doesn’t have nightmares for a while after that.

- - -

Gem places down the spruce rhythmically, grateful for the mindless task providing stimulation. The Wizard Tower was coming together quite nicely. Soon enough it’ll be complete, and she can put her powers and studies to use in it.

Hopefully it’ll help with learning about the demon and the Corruption, she thinks with a frown. My nightmares aren’t a good sign. I need to find a way to stop them. They’re a danger to the server.

You’re a danger to your friends, a voice whispers, but she doesn’t dwell on that.

Gem continues building. She doesn’t break a sweat, to her pleasant surprise. She must be getting used to the altitude then.

She can’t help but place the blocks to the beat of a song playing in her head.

Beware the Corruption, the swirling strands Empires so strong will fall at its hands Taint sacred ground, still water shall boil Beware the comforting burns of the Devil’s toil

Something squirms under Gem’s skin.

[17tetsuro]

could u do fake dating headcanons where they slowly fall for u w atsumu, kenma & oikawa,, gn pronounces are fine :)

haikyuu boys slowly falling for you (fake dating edition) (gn!reader)

feat: atsumu, kenma, oikawa

warnings: fake dating, abuse of cliche tropes and commas and question marks, timeskip setting because im anything but creative, swearing

requests are open!

a/n: thank you for requesting this!! i hope you like it :D

atsumu

* you’ve been friends with him ever since high school and you watched his career grow

* youre both equally proud of each other n your friendship is built on mutual respect, trust and love

* you basically live in his apartment, with how much time you spend over there

* he would complain 24/7 about not having anyone to go to events with

* at one point you wanted to strangle him for never shutting up about it so you propose you go with him from time to time

* atsumu: “yeah, that was a setup”

* he KNOWS you’re drop dead gorgeous and everyone will be jealous of him that you’re with him (and you also look very good in formalwear, which he very much enjoys)

* and you get to have free food and drinks and also wear immaculate expensive clothes

* so,, you became his regular date for sponsorship events and stuff

* and you never really outright said you were just friends?? so you’re used to the media portraying you two as lovers but your close circle is aware that your relationship is platonic

* everything was going great until one of his sponsor company’s heir started hitting on you

* atsumu saw you flirting with the person and his mind went blank

* he,, he didn’t understand why he wanted to commit multiple crimes on the spot

* bokuto conveniently showed up next to atsumu at that moment

“hey, atsumu? why is your date flirting with them?” bokuto asked, suddenly appearing next to atsumu, which startled the latter out of his thoughts.

a better question would be why atsumu saw red at the thought of you getting friendly with anyone but him that night. he tried his best to keep his composure, but it was hard when you rested a hand on the heir’s shoulder, leaning your head back while laughing.

“atsumu, are you not going to answer me? your lover is-“

“my what?” atsumu asked, attention now completely off you.

“your lover? is that a term you don’t like? i could say partner... significant other... or anything you want, really,” bokuto answered, apologizing.

“you- you think me and (y/n) are together?”

“aren’t you? what, with the way you look at each other i was convinced you two were like... high school sweethearts or something, who hate pda,” bokuto explained, while atsumu’s eyes trailed back to you.

“you think... you think they’d wan’ me?”

“are you blind, buddy?”

you must have sensed their gazes, because as soon as those words left bokuto’s mouth, your eyes snapped towards atsumu and bokuto. the latter started waving with a cheerful smile while the former just stood, entranced by you and your presence. atsumu noticed traces of confusion appearing on your face, and watched as you excused yourself from the conversation you were previously interested in.

“‘tsumu, are you alright?” you questioned, approaching the pair. bokuto grinned and left, which made you even more confused.

“yeah, i’m fi- fine. hey, uh, (y/n), say... do you- why did you offer to come to these events as my date?” atsumu asked, eyes dead set on yours. you cracked a confused smile. you seemed to be capable of nothing but confusion at the moment.

“because you’re my best friend and i hated to see you so down because of your loneliness at these gatherings,” you replied, holding his gaze. “why didn’t you oppose it?”

his eyes studied you and when he saw nothing but sincerity, he let out a loud sigh. this was all very new and confusing to him. it’s like bokuto calling you atsumu’s lover set off a bomb inside his head that instead of causing a mess, made everything fall into place; why his gaze seemed to linger on you more often than before, why he was so eager to choose your outfits for these events, why he went to parties he didn’t even have to attend, why he got so jealous and angry when he saw you with the cute heir.

“holy shit,” he breathed and ran his hands through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle and lowering his gaze to the ground. “holy shit.”

“you look like you’ve been enlightened, and i love that for you, but ‘tsumu, i’m still very confused.”

“i’m in love with you,” he said in disbelief, and quickly snapped his eyes back to your face when he realized he said it out loud. “i- i mean- i’m not in love with you, no way in hell, you’re- you’re my best friend, you- you smack my head whenever i say somethin’ inappropriate, you keep me from underminin’ myself, you always lift my spirits and for fuck’s sake, please, stop lookin’ at me like that because i will be getting hopeful and if you’re just joking, i will never hear the end of it and-“

you finally hd enough of his rambling and cut him off with a kiss. at first he froze, but seconds later he melted into your embrace, hands sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

when your lips separated, atsumu gasping for air after his word vomit and the long kiss you shared, you spoke up. “miya atsumu, you’re a real dumbass, you know that?”

his breath hitched and you kept quiet for a second to let him suffer a bit.

“but you’re my dumbass. i love you, you absolute piece of work.”

atsumu honest to god giggled and leaned in for another kiss, which you gave him without hesitation.

somewhere in the room, bokuto was collecting the money sakusa promised to give him if he got you two to kiss.

kenma

* kenma and you are both twitch streamers with similar content so you knew of each other but weren’t properly introduced

* until one of your mutual friends invited you both to stream among us with them

* you obv accepted

* so during the 3 hr stream, you and kenma were imposters together a lot and had the biggest, most twisted imp plays

* a friendly competition broke out at one point, too, trying to see who exposed the most impostors between the two of you

* your fans ate your dynamic up

* from then on, you two interacted more and started to appear in each others’ streams

* kenma even invited you to his minecraft smp

* you became besties basically

* SO

* all fun and games

* and then a huge sponsorship opportunity rolled in

* and the people at the company assumed you were dating

* uh oh

* you couldnt just tell them they have it wrong bc the whole thing depended on your relationship

* so

* big brain kenma suggest you two start to “date”

* you were against deceiving your followers but kenma assured you you could have a public breakup and tell everyone you were better off as friends

* so you reluctantly agreed

* it was only for two months anyways, what could go wrong?

* both of you, on week 3, in separate discord calls: uh oh, im in l*ve

* you both tried to cope (read: repress everything) but the realization on both of your parts threw your dynamic off a bit and fans have noticed

* so you had to do something abt it

* so kenma suggested you try your hand at a minecraft challenge together

* it was all fun and games until it wasnt

* you somehow ended up flirting back and forth ????

* chat was goin crazy, even in sub only mode

* both of you: ha ha im in danger

* when the stream ended, you stayed on call, because that was a routine you stuck to no matter what

“so... how are you doing?” you asked kenma, trying to clear the awkwardness from the air.

“good.”

maybe you should have taken kenma’s refusal to talk about anything into account when initiating conversation.

kenma, on the other end of the call was anxiously playing with his fingers, trying to figure out if his chat was right, and you were indeed flirting with him. and him with you. god.

“hey, y/n,” kenma said after a while, “were you flirting with me?”

his bluntness startled you and you had to mute yourself for a few seconds while you collected yourself.

“is there a correct answer?” you asked hesitantly.

“yes.”

“oh... uhm, maybe? it wasn’t intentional. or maybe it was, subconsciously, i don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

“good. it was intentional on my part, i think,” and okay, that was not the reply you expected to hear.

“really?”

“yeah, i- i like you i guess,” he said, sounding more confident by the minute. “do you like me too?”

“i- yeah. i do. i like you, kenma,” you replied, sighing a breath of relief. it felt good to admit it aloud to him.

“do you- would you maybe want to come over?” he asked sheepishly, which made absolutely no sense because he sounded so confident a second ago. “we could play mario kart?”

you let the beaming smile you were holding back take over your face. “i’ll be there in 10, kenma.”

“i’ll be waiting for you.”

oikawa

* on god mans hated your guts

* like,, okay, you were iwa’s close friend but you were so annoyingly honest all the time

* it drove him mad

* what also drove him mad is the fact that you loved to tease him

* no matter what the circumstance, whether he was in japan or in argentina, you always found a way to make him blush

* okay so maybe hate is a strong word, because he kind of thought you were pretty, but in a platonic way

* dumbass

* iwa always give both of you shit for not liking each other

* so you came up with a big brain idea

* you: ”oikawa! we should date!”

* oikawa: “what”

* after you explained the concept of fake dating to him and its benefits (which included a staged dramatic breakup, giving you both a reason to hate each other without iwa complaining)

* he was totally down

* iwa, when he first saw you holding hands: “i knew it”

* SO!! thus began weeks of pretending to be in love with each other for the sake of iwa

* which turned from pretending to not pretending real quick for your liking

* falling in love with oikawa was not a plan of yours

* (falling in love with you wasn’t his, either)

* with iwa’s constant nagging of “i knew it, you both were head over heels for each other from the moment you met”, the time for the breakup came quicker than expected (maybe you both had enough. so what.)

* you agreed to do it in front of iwa so he could see it happen

* you chose a mcdonalds parking lot, because then you could storm off and iwa would follow you to make sure you were ok and oikawa could go home and sleep

* maybe winging it was not the best idea

“babe,” you said with venom, “haven’t i told you a thousand times that i do not want to hear about your exes? seriously, it’s like the only thing you talk about,” you complained, as your fake-boyfriend took a sip from his drink.

“well, babe,” his tone matching yours, “i would shut up about them if took the hint sometimes. maybe i don’t like going to the movies as much as you seem to, it’s boring,” he rolled his eyes, subtly glancing at iwa, who looked very uncomfortable third wheeling your argument. good

“jerk. i don’t even want to go to the movies that much, asshole,” you spat, crushing your empty cup in your hand.

“oh, you want to go to the movies plenty. face it, (y/n), you’re boring. no wonder you didn’t have a boyfriend before me,” he replied and his words, even though you knew were fake, still hit hard and you couldn’t help the tears gathering in your eyes.

“okay, then, thanks for these wonderful past few weeks, so glad you decided to take pity on me.” you tried to keep acting, encouraging yourself with the fact that if oikwa meant what he said, you wouldn’t have to talk to him if iwaizumi finally saw you two break up.

you expected a lot of things, but genuineness in oikawa’s eyes was not one of them.

“(y/n), i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that,” oikawa pleaded, clearly forgetting about your mutual goal.

with a mumbled whatever, you started walking home, letting the sunset wash over your face. when you knew you were out of sight, you sat down on a bench and just started crying.

you don’t know how much time passed, but you heard a voice behind you speak up.

“hey (y/n).”

“what the fuck do you want, oikawa? to rub in the fact that my first boyfriend was just faking it so his best friend would get off his back? leave me alone, jerk,” you said, trying to wipe your tears away.

“i- i didn’t mean it like that, please, believe me,” he replied, taking a seat next to you. you scooted away from him. he sighed.

“why would i believe you? why do you want to make up, anyways? this fight was pretty real, no way iwaizumi didn’t believe it,” you sniffed.

“because maybe... maybe i was very happy about the fact that i could be your boyfriend, even if it was fake. maybe i’m in love with you,” he said softly, leaning towards you.

“please, stop playing games. it’s over,” you replied, trying very hard to ignore the raw emotion in his voice as he spoke.

“i really am, (y/n). i wasn’t at first, i admit it, but now i am. i love you, please, believe me,” he begged and you finally made eye contact with him. eyes were mirrors of the soul, after all.

you studied his face for a few minutes, looking for anything that could indicate he was trying to pull a shit prank on you, but you found nothing.

“asshole. maybe i’m in love with you too, what would you do if i said that?” you asked, wiping your nose with your sleeves.

“kiss you.”

“do it, then, i guess. but you’re still not completely forgiven.”

“what do i have to do to earn your forgiveness, (y/n)?” he asked and you sent him a mischievous smile.

“take the blame for this whole fiasco with iwaizumi.” he froze at your words and visibly gulped, but nodded nonetheless.

“okay, i will. can i kiss you now?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah.”

and he did.

[acerace]

@ruby-whistler so uh I accidentally wrote a bit of an essay here so I’ve made this its own post instead of adding it as a reblog lol 

But yes the Prince reminds me very strongly of c!Dream in quite a few ways. This is probably not what my political theory professor had in mind when he had us read Machiavelli and Locke but the c!Dream brainrot is strong <3 

Something that stood out to me about the Prince was, while it focuses how to be an effective leader and the balance between cruelty and kindness, it’s also about possessions, attachments, control. People are attached to their land and to their countries, and the way a leader approaches this attachment can make or break them. Sounds familiar right? 

c!Dream, as the story progresses, loses more and more control of his server and his life, and becomes more and more of a Machiavellian villain as a result. By the time of the Disc Saga Finale, c!Dream has adopted this mindset of the ends justifying the means, and that the most effective mean is cruelty. This forms a super interesting contrast with c!Techno, who has a bit of an opposite story- he starts off believing the only way people will listen to him is if he uses violence to get their attention, but, when his withers after the Pogtopia Revolution fail to convince anyone of his viewpoint, realizes that violence doesn’t always work and tries to do a 180, becoming a pacifist. But when he is isolated and alone, his attachments (Carl, Phil) are used against him. He dies for his attachments and walks away not believing they don’t matter but rather realizing how important they are to him, and so he takes his horse and his bff and tells L’Manburg to kindly go screw themselves, then comes back later and blows them to smithereens for hurting him and his friends. And now, current day c!Techno has learnt through the Syndicate that attachment- friendship- is a far greater strength than violence. c!Rivalsduo my beloveds 

So with that side tangent out of the way, here are some quotes from the Prince that I believe fit c!Dream :D under the cut for length 

Chapter numbers are from the Wooton version of the text I believe! 

Chapter 8:

"Well-used cruelty (if one can speak well of evil) one may call those atrocities that are committed at a stroke, in order to secure one's power, and are then not repeated, rather every effort is made to ensure one’s subjects benefit in the long run. An abuse of cruelty one may call those policies that, even if in the beginning they involve little bloodshed, lead to more rather than less as time goes by."

L'Manburg my not-so-beloved </3 from an in character pov, c!Dream was a very different person back during the Independence War and so he didn't "commit atrocities at a stroke" like Machiavelli argues, because he didn't really believe in this idea. But by not destroying L'Manburg, by not getting rid of c!Wilbur right from the get go, how much blood was shed? How much suffering did L'Manburg ultimately cause, suffering that would've been avoided if only c!Dream had stopped it then and there? Would he still have his big happy family? This is the beginning of the ends justify the means to me- you can hurt people, commit atrocities, so long as you’re doing it to prevent further violence. 

Chapter 17:

"For love attaches men by ties of obligation, which, since men are wicked, they break whenever their interests are at stake. But fear restrains men because they are afraid of punishment, and this fear never leaves them. Still, a ruler should makes himself feared in such a way that, if he does not inspire love, at least he does not provoke hatred. For it is perfectly possible to be feared and not hated. You will only be hated if you seize the property or women of your subjects or citizens. Whenever you have to kill someone, make sure you have a suitable excuse and an obvious reason; but, above all else, keep your hand off other people’s property; for men are quicker to forget the death of their father than the loss of their inheritance." 

"I conclude then, that as far as being feared and loved is concerned, since men decide for themselves whom they love, and rulers decide whom they fear, a wise ruler should rely on the emotion he can control, not on the one he cannot. But he must take care to avoid being hated, as I have said."

There's a lot to unpack with this one, but man, attachments. Once again they take centre stage. People may grow attached to you and vice versa, but “men are wicked” and may leave you out to dry. c!Dream Team anyone?? Two other ideas stick out for me- "fear restrains men" and "make sure you have a suitable excuse and an obvious reason" to kill people. This is c!Dream post New L’Manburg, c!Dream with exile and the hall of attachments. The burning of c!George’s house is nothing too unusual for this server, but it provided the perfect excuse for c!Dream to control c!Tommy. c!Dream, by exile, has lost just about everything- his friends, who fought by him in the first war, his pets, killed or stolen and used against him, his beliefs and his desire for peace and harmony overshadowed by the knowledge that he can’t make everything go back to how it used to be. c!Dream now believes the only way to take control of his life is to control everyone else’s, and to do that, he relies on fear. This ties into the second quote as well, because by now he is grasping for control the only way he knows how- through threats and violence. His downfall is that he makes himself hated in the process by trying to control people’s attachments- their property mentioned in the quote. He makes himself more hated than feared, but he is both by the time he is imprisoned. 

Chapter 18: 

“Of course, if all men were good, this advice would be bad; but since men are wicked and will not keep faith with you, you need not keep faith with them.” 

“In general, men judge more by sight than by touch. Everyone sees what is happening, but not everyone feels the consequences. Everyone sees what you seem to be; few have direct experience of who you really are.” 

What no pov does to a mf. c!Dream is judged entirely on appearance, constantly, both by the characters and the audience. He has no point of view, so we do not get his internal thoughts or his reasoning, we only see the results of his actions and not what led him to take those actions. As well as this, we see his behaviour toward people like c!Punz and c!Techno with that first quote- there’s no point in making friends because they will one day turn on you or be used against you, so it’s hired help and business partners at best. Since people hurt and betray and leave you, you can do the same to them, because that’s just how people are, right? “Men are wicked” so you can be to. 

Chapter 19:

"You become hateful, above all, as I have said, if you prey on the possessions and the women of  your subjects. You should leave both alone. The vast majority of men, so long as their goods and their honor are not taken from them, will live contentedly, so you will only have to contend with the small minority who are ambitious, and there are lots of straightforward ways of keeping them under control."

And here it is- attachments and control summarized nice and neatly. I think c!Dream realized the only thing that could help him in his goals of returning to his big happy family is through forcing others to do what he wants. Especially if the prison was built for c!Dream all along as a final villain to unite the server against him. 

c!Dream does the opposite of what Machiavelli suggests here, actively "preying on" the other members' attachments, but he does it to help him keep this ambitious minority (especially c!Tubbo and c!Tommy) under control. By the Disc War Finale, c!Dream is pretty much universally hated or disliked, so I don't think he was particularly fussed with trying to make everyone content. Instead, I think he realized that all people value their possessions and attachments, and that this entire saga has been about people using their possessions to control each other (Dream with the discs, Tommy with Spirit and Mars and Beckerson, everyone with L'Manburg, the Pet Wars, everything has been about attachments and how they can be used against you). Once he realized this, he threw Machiavelli out the window, because how can he be an effective leader without any control of his subjects? He directly goes against Machiavelli’s advice and it comes back to bite him, because now he’s quite literally in a prison of his own creation. 

This got… extremely long lmao anyway those are some of the quotes that stuck out to me when reading the Prince and skimming some articles about it! To me, c!Dream is Machiavellian by way of tragedy- he didn’t start out believing cruelty is kindness. But it’s so interesting to see how something as absurd as a Minecraft roleplay can echo the same political thoughts and arguments people have been having for centuries. 

[kiri-ah]

File: Sector 5

Part of the Action Figure Collab hosted by @go-shotaro

Pairing: Kim Jungwoo x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned for reader), low key Taeil x Sicheng if you squint

Themes: Dark Matter (TV Show) AU, Elite Dangerous (Video Game) AU, basically space stuff, gunfights, lasers, hackers, set in the future, spaceships, Star Wars is mentioned like twice, Sicheng is a jerk, Mark and Johnny are half-brothers

Warnings: Major character death, gunfights, blood, two swearwords, mentioned burials, mentioned black market

WC: 3.7k

Summary: In a galaxy divided into factions, war is rampant. The ship files that you’re searching for could solve all of your problems - if only you can get into the classified sector of the space station where they’re housed. With Jungwoo on one side and Taeil on the other, nothing can go wrong. Right?

Taglist: @allegxdly , @stayctday , @leelatte , @dundun-baby , @kunrengui ​

Author Note: Welcome to my first collab fic! This is also my first full-length fic on tumblr which is pretty cool. When I saw the concept for this collab I decided it was perfect for my first foray into working with other creators. In the process I made a lot of new friends and I had a lot of fun. Plus I’m pretty proud of this fic. Please enjoy File: Sector 5!

You walk as quickly as you can while still being discreet. There are a lot of people that you wouldn’t want to notice you here. Jungwoo and Taeil, following behind you, seem to have had the same thought. Taeil has a cap over his projector glasses, and Jungwoo has on a black too-big hoodie that hides his give-away physique. In your earpiece there’s silence, but that doesn’t bother you. Yangyang told you to reach out once you got to the section of the space station you need. You still have a few more obnoxiously crowded spaces to traverse before you arrive, so you focus on draining the urgency from your movements and walking like you belong here. Like you’re not about to break into a classified sector and commit a crime.

You make your way through the bar, the ship parts market, and the casino with minimal issues. You think you see a familiar face across the way in the market, but he turns away a second later and you breathe easy once again. If it was who you thought it was, you wouldn’t be alive anymore. Nakamoto Yuta is famed for his cruelty. You enter Sector 5 and speak quietly into your earpiece. 

“Yang, we’re in sector five. Where do we go from here?”

“I’m getting your location still, hold on,” comes Yangyang’s voice into your ear. 

“Take a left here, and then head down for a few hallways. This is one of the permanent sectors like ours, so you can use your gun now if need be and not worry about puncturing an outer wall.”

You take the left where he says to and continue down, checking to make sure that Jungwoo and Taeil are still behind you. They are, and so is another figure.

“Get over here,” you hiss, pulling them into a side hallway. The figure doesn’t appear to have seen you and passes by, turning down another hallway. You recognize the face of Xiao Dejun, an infamous criminal like yourself. You try not to think about what would have happened had he spotted you. You wouldn’t be dead, but you would probably wish you were. 

“What happened?” asks Yangyang in your ear. 

“Security,” you mutter. 

“Oh.”

You pull Jungwoo and Taeil out and walk down the hallway until Yangyang tells you to stop by a door. “You guys will need to get through this door without my help,” he says. “Beyond it, I can only get high energy drain levels. Be careful.”

Taeil kneels by the card scanner and pulls out his tools. You and Jungwoo turn around, standing guard in case another member of security comes and you need to shoot them. Taeil carefully prys the backing panel off of the scanner and maneuvers until he can see the wires. He scoffs. 

“For a high security organization, their security is terrible,” he mutters. He cuts the casing off of a wire and does something you can’t see with it, and the door slides open. You continue keeping watch as Taeil packs up his high-tech phillip’s head screwdriver and cleans up the casing. When you turn around, you’re speechless. 

“We found the source of the energy drain,” Jungwoo says in a low voice. Before you is a room of lasers, the kind you thought only existed in old movies. They cross back and forth across the space like an absurd red spider web and fizzle oddly like Redstone in that old game Chenle likes. Minecraft, was it? 

“What kind of black market did they get these on?”

Taeil shrugs and walks into the room. “Looks like we can get in,” he tells you. “The lasers are designed like shark teeth - easy to get in, not so easy to get out.” The analogy doesn’t help you feel any better about the situation, and you clutch at your gun. 

“Can you turn them off?” Jungwoo asks Taeil, seemingly as nervous as you are.

“I can, but we don’t need to to get in. Let’s focus on that on our way out.”

You nod and walk in, spotting the pattern like Taeil did. “Maybe their security is just bad,” you say. “This is so easy.” You swing your right leg over the nearest laser and start your way across. You get a finger close to the laser and feel the heat emanating from it. You turn to warn Taeil and Jungwoo of this, only to find that they’re already in the maze themselves. You duck under the next beam of red and feel the heat on the back of your head from the proximity, then step easily over one that reminds you of a tripwire - right at ankle level. You hear Jungwoo and Taeil following behind you, Jungwoo struggling a bit because of his wide shoulders. At some points you have to turn around and help him since he can’t see where his biceps are about to brush one of the heated red lines. At least Sungchan isn’t on your team, he’s even larger than Jungwoo. Chenle and Hendery will have to help him or find another way in. You almost laugh at the thought before deciding that you rather like all of your teammates, actually, and you don’t like to think about them dying by heated laser. Each time you stop to help Jungwoo, Taeil reminds you that you need to hurry. You eventually just tell him to please be quiet, because some people are trying to focus here. He shuts up, thankfully. 

 When you reach the end of the room, you’re faced with another door. Taeil tampers with the wires and it too slides open. The hallway is paneled with light gray and the floor is tile reminiscent of a hotel lobby. Your guns are poised to fend off an attack as the door opens, but nobody is there. You lower them slowly and Jungwoo steps out into the hallway. There are footsteps fading away down to your right, but nobody is watching for you here. You look for the source of the footsteps and spot who you’re pretty sure are the team Johnny and Mark, orphan half-brothers notorious for their sudden team changes depending on the paycheck. They’re for sale to the highest bidder, and they don’t care who that is. Your guess is confirmed when the shorter man laughs - you’ve worked with Mark before, and that laugh is both contagious and unique. 

When you refocus, Yangyang is back in your ear and instructing you to go the opposite way that the pair is walking. He says that the door at the end of this hallway is the one you want. Your shoes shuffle against the tile as you try to go quietly, with Jungwoo in front of you and Taeil nervously watching your backs. He isn’t as confident with a gun as you or Jungwoo, he prefers to work behind the scenes. The nature of this mission required a tech whiz on site, though, and he came reluctantly. He knows how important it is to steal the USB drive with ship plans on it. The newest fighter models will make or break the war for your faction, and you have reason to believe that those ships also have teleportation devices in the plans. Not just lightspeed travel, but all-out teleportation. You can only imagine that sort of power on your own ship, the Phoenix.

You walk all the way down the hallway and find the door that Yangyang has pointed out to you. Taeil once again gets down to open the wire panel and gasps in delight. 

“Finally a good security system! Give me a moment.” His face disappears behind the stand housing the card reader and he hums as he fiddles with whatever has made him so happy. Even laying at an awkward angle, his voice is beautiful. You sometimes wonder why he became a technician for a faction like yours when he could be a singer for one of the more powerful factions that aren’t always at war. When confronted with this question, he would smile a little and tell whoever was asking that his one true love was testing security systems, no matter how much his voice delighted other people. He said with a dry laugh once that the selfishness of that reason made him perfect for the job. Part of you doubted that story, but everyone working for your faction had baggage. You didn’t need to pry into his.

Eventually there comes a pleased “aha!” from behind you, and Taeil reemerges. His face has a smudge on it that you wipe away with your thumb. 

“Have fun?” 

You ask the question sarcastically, but Taeil nods happily. “That’s what I like to do. The other systems were easier, I think this room must be important.”

“That’s what I said,” grumbles Yagyang in your ear.

The door slips open with some prodding and you walk into a lab with pristine white surfaces and surfaces that look as though they’ve never been used. In the middle is a silver table covered in instruments of some kind, although you don’t know what they would be used for. The walls are lined with diagnostic panels, and one is a window into a secret hangar you weren’t aware of. Inside is a ship that looks a lot like the X-Wings of the Star Wars franchise. The movies are still iconic today despite how obsolete they are, and everyone knows that the X-Wings were never recreated due to a problem with their size in relation to the way they were meant to work. It appears that whoever made this ship has been hiding their discovery. 

“Y/N, focus,” Jungwoo whispers. You nod and turn away from the hangar, albeit reluctantly. 

You look at the remaining two walls, both of which are shorter and lined with  counters. Taeil is looking at one, and you walk over to the other. You find a monitor completely shut down and follow the cords down to discover that it isn’t plugged in. That’s a little strange. You look at the computer tower and find a USB drive, labeled “Schematics.” That’s even more strange. Why would they leave something so valuable lying around? Hiding in plain sight, perhaps? You plug the monitor in and turn it and the tower on, opening the USB files. You’re low on time, you know, but you have to make sure this is the right drive. 

Once the files are loaded, you gasp. “You guys, look at this.” Jungwoo and Taeil stand and look over your shoulders as you scroll through page after page of exact instructions and diagrams for the X-Wing. 

“They even stole the name from Star Wars,” Jungwoo scoffs. Taeil laughs lightly. 

“These are the right files, we should get out of here.”

“Agreed,” you say. You pocket the USB drive and unplug the monitor again, making sure to leave minimal traces of your passing through. “Let’s go.”

Yangyang repeats the directions out of Sector 5, and you walk quickly. You make it to the laser room without incident and go back through the doorway. “Taeil,” you ask, “can we get out of here faster if you turn off the lasers, or if we just walk through like we did on the way on?”

“Definitely turning them off,” he assures you. “It’s too time consuming to worry about things like this when we need to be worrying about the USB being reported missing.” He settles down by a panel near the start of the lasers and peels off the cover where it looks like maintenance might be done. You only know this because he tells you happily that there might be an off switch. 

“Aha! Found it!” he singsongs after a moment. The lasers go off a second later and you’re about to celebrate when a siren screeches from the ceiling. 

“All units to Hall Sixteen!” A voice yells over an intercom that you hadn’t noticed. “Lasers have been disabled!”

“Shit,” Jungwoo and Taeil say in unison. 

“Let’s go!” you yell. There’s no point in being quiet now. You hear the clomping of boots down the hall and yelling from both ends of the laser room. Hall Sixteen.

You run out towards the exit and find yourself facing Xiao Dejun and another man you don’t know. They both have guns and are shooting the moment you get within range. You shoot back, missing Dejun by inches. 

“Sicheng?” cries Taeil from beside you. He lowers his gun slightly. “I thought you were dead!” He runs towards the man, completely ignoring the battle around him. Dejun shoots at him but misses. Jungwoo hits him in return, a nonlethal hit to the arm. It’s enough to make him take pause though, and long enough for you to see with crystal clarity as the other man - Sicheng - raises his gun and shoots Taeil in the chest. Taeil doesn’t even have his gun up, and the shot tears right through his body. He collapses into the fall, blood spouting from the wound. It looks like Sicheng hit his heart.

Someone is screaming, and you realize it’s you. You feel your nose start to burn and your eyes brim suddenly with tears. Not Taeil! you want to scream. Taeil can’t be dead! Your body reacts faster than your brain, and you shoot Sicheng in the gut as he stares at Taeil’s body, looking almost shocked. Then you rush forward and kick the wound, making sure it hurts. 

“You asshole!” you cry. “You killed Taeil!” You dodge another bullet from Dejun (it hits Sicheng in the upper stomach, and you have just enough brain space left to be smug) and spot Johnny and Mark behind Jungwoo. You scream and point, not even having words. Thankfully Jungwoo understands and spins to meet them. You shoot at Dejun, wasting bullets. One hits his left shoulder, and another hits a rib. You hear it crack. He writhes out of the way of the rest. You kick his gun hand to disarm him and knee him in the balls, a simple solution to his frustrating ability to avoid bullets. Having properly taken care of him, you turn to face Johnny and Mark. 

They have Jungwoo cornered, and he’s desperately dancing out of the way of more bullets. He already has red spreading across his right side. It looks like just a graze, but it could have easily been far worse. You pick up Dejun’s gun and use it to shoot the back of Johnny’s thigh. He crumbles to the floor, blood already gushing angrily out of the wound. Mark turns to him, worried, and somewhere in the back of your mind you realize that’s sort of sweet before you shoot Mark too. He doesn’t deserve to die any more than Taeil did, and you liked working with him, but he’s the enemy right now. He needs to go down. You take aim and shoot him in the side, which is the best place you can hit at this angle. He looks almost surprised at the intrusion. You turn away. Jungwoo runs up behind you. 

“Taeil?” you ask, looking down at his body. “Are you in there?” You reach down to feel his pulse, except there isn’t one. His neck is already cooling where he lays, a  surprised look still painted across his features. 

“Y/N, we have to go,” Jungwoo says. 

“We have to bury him!” you screech. You didn’t even know your voice could sound like this. You suppose you’ve never lost someone as important as Taeil before, though.

“We’ll come back for him as soon as we get the USB back to home base,” Jungwoo mutters. “Come on.” He tugs on your arm, and you follow him, letting the tears flow. Jonny shoots one last time at you, but misses. Of everyone who could have died, it had to be Taeil. Precious Taeil with his lovely voice and sweet temperament, the person everyone went to if they needed someone to chill with. He would never again hear you complain about uncertain futures or how you missed your home planet. He would never again hug you or make you smile or gift your ears with his sweet tunes. 

“We’ll come back,” you repeat, nose stuffing up. “We’ll come back.”

You leave Sector 5, only meeting one more person. Jungwoo shoots whoever it is before you even register their presence. Thank goodness that one of you has their head still on right. Getting back inconspicuously is a little harder with bloodstains on Jungwoo’s side, but you somehow manage to avoid everyone you don’t want to see. You sneak in the back way to your building and get up to Doyoung’s office. He’s the leader of your little group, so he’s the one you take the info to.

When you knock, he invites you in, and you enter the room. You’re never quite sure if he’ll be happy to see you, so you walk in with some trepidation. Thankfully he has one of his beautiful smiles on and welcomes you in. 

“What did you get?” he asks. 

“A USB Drive, it has files for new ships,” you tell him. “ Exactly what we were looking for.”

“Where are Jung-”

Doyoung gets cut off by a voice coming through the radio on his desk. “Sir! Doyoung, sir?”

Doyoung holds up a finger to you and presses the talk button. “Yes Yangyang?”

“Is Y/N with you yet, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N,” Yangyang says, “he doesn’t know yet what happened.” Doyoung looks at you, eyes questioning. 

“Okay Yang,” you say. “I’ll- I’ll tell him.”

“Okay. That’s all, sir.”

Doyoung looks at you across the desk and narrows his eyes. “What happened?”

“We got in without incident,” you say. “There was a laser maze, but we got through okay. We didn't get caught on the way in and found a lab. That’s where we found the drive. I made sure these were the right files, and then we left. Taeil-” You cut yourself off, tears threatening again. 

“Taeil turned off the lasers so we could get out, but it activated some sort of security system. Some men came to kill us and Taeil recognized one. I think his name was ‘Sicheng.’ Taeil-” You take another deep breath. “He ran toward the man, gun down, like he thought the man wouldn’t hurt him. But Sicheng… He killed Taeil. Shot him in the heart.” 

The tears are flowing freely  down your cheeks now, and you make no move to get rid of them. Doyoung looks shaken for the first time since you’ve known him, and he stands up. He walks around the desk to hug you, mindless of the blood on your clothes. 

“We’ll give him the hero’s burial he deserves,” he murmurs. “In the meantime, you should go and put the drive with our other ship plans.

You nod in the affirmative and leave his office. The file storage room is just down the hall. Your surroundings are a bit blurry from the tears in your eyes, but you make it fine. Yangyang is already there, and he pats you on the back as you plug the USB drive into its designated spot. It has a blood spot on the label and you sort of smile at the irony. You won, but at what cost?

A moment later the entire course lights up. “The Red Team wins!” proclaims a voice from the speakers. You feel the character you were playing melt off as your laser tag gun powers off. The dryness in your throat and the tears on your face fade away with the persona you became for the game. You high-five Yangyang and run to get Taeil from where he lays on the other side of the course, still playing dead. You run into Johnny on the way. “Good game,” he says, bumping your fist. “Hitting my thigh patch was a fantastic idea! You’re a really good shot.”

“Thank you. Your team owes us pizza,” you remind him smugly. 

“I know.” He throws you a playful glare on the way past. “We’re going to the fifth floor dorms once everyone’s rounded up. I think Lucas and Jeno tied up Sungchan, Hendery, and Chenle, so I’m going to get them.”

“Sounds good. We’re gonna go get Taeil, Sicheng, and Xiaojun.”

“Okay. Meet you at the entrance!”

He walks off and Yangyang follows you to Sector 5.

“You did an amazing job acting!” he says. “It really helped me get into my role.”

“I thought I would actually cry when Taeil fake died,” you tell him. “He actually looked dead.”

“Well I couldn’t see, obviously, but after you guys left he just sat and hummed. It was hilarious. In one channel, you’re screaming your revenge and sobbing, and in the other, Taeil is humming Baekhyun-sunbaemin.”

Taeil meets you at the beginning of the laser hall. “That was so much fun,” he enthuses. 

“Yeah it was,” you agree. “You did a great job with the puzzles!” You’re referring to the puzzles that kept Sector 5 locked. Supposedly they were hard enough to keep intruders out, but Taeil had gotten in pretty easily. 

He smiles. “Thank you. You did a great job kneeing Xiaojun in the nuts, he was out for a solid minute.”

“ I didn’t hurt him too much, did I?”

“Nah, he’ll recover. He might want to punch you or something though, I don’t think he was acting with that part.”

“Oh.”

You walk back to the entrance with everyone in the group and do a quick headcount. Twenty-three men. Okay, you’re good to go.

You pile into multiple vans out front where their managers sit, bored. They congratulate the winning team and drive you to the dorms, where you all squeeze into the 5th floor apartment and Johnny orders pizza for everyone. You’re very glad that you don’t have to pay for all of the food for twenty-four people.

“We should do that again some time!” Mark suggests as you’re eating. There’s a resounding cry of agreement as everyone lifts their pizza slices to the idea. 

You’re totally going to do that again.

End.

All Rights Reserved, kiri-ah, 2021

[sweetsmellosuccess]

Sundance 2021: Day 4

Films: 4 Best Film of the Day(s): Mass

Mass: Predictably, Fran Kranz’ film opens with a shot of a church, but the title turns out to be a reverberating double entendre   —  both the religious service towards forgiveness; and a term commonly used in conjunction with a multiple-homicide shooting event. The church, Episcopal it turns out, is the agreed-to meeting place for two sets of grieving parents: Gail (Martha Plimpton) and Jay (Jason Isaacs), whose teen son Evan was killed some years before in a high-school massacre; and Linda (Ann Down) and Richard (Reed Birney), whose son, Haden, was the shooter, before killing himself in the school library. They have agreed to meet, long after the lawsuits and legal wrangling have been settled, to possibly provide answers and solace to one another. As can be expected, the atmosphere is fraught with tension  —  a setting Kranz, an actor making his directorial and writing debut, expertly mines before the couples arrive, with a kind but overenthusiastic church administrator (Breeda Wool), fretting about the details of the food arrangement  —  and the couples, wary, at first, of letting things get hostile, work diligently to avoid disagreement by staying mild (an arrangement of flowers Linda brings is speculated upon a great deal). Eventually, however, the four wounded parents get down to more brass tacks, Gail and Jay eschewing their therapist’s call for them to avoid “interrogation” questions, to get at the root of what they are after. In truth, as Kranz has the characters cannily come to understand, there are no details that shed new light, no explanations that help rectify what they’ve lost, only a grim understanding that, as parents, they are all subject to the laws of chaos and chance. Unsurprisingly, Kranz has an actorly sense of conflict and explication, but, despite the limited setting (this could easily have been an adapted play), he gives his actors plenty of room with which to work, and the quartet are more than up to the task. They are each terrific, and given opportunity to shine, but it’s Plimpton’s monologue near the end about her son that becomes the film's singular tour-de-force moment, a scene with so many hooks and edges, it sticks to you like velcro. Kranz is careful not to overstep his dramatic boundaries, difficult given the potentially melodramatic elements of the story, and allows his actors enough time to breathe so it avoids feeling polemic or preachy (an early scene with Gail and Jay in the car before they arrive is a scintillating bit of set-up, where words are spoken, but our attention, like that of the characters, is entirely elsewhere). No easy answers, thankfully, just brutal realizations that can’t be avoided.  

A Glitch in the Matrix: By this time, documentary filmmaker Rodney Ascher has carved out a sort of niche for himself: As with Room 237, and The Nightmare, he has gathered up fringe thinkers displaying a sort of group psychosis in order to explore other ways of seeing, and interpreting, our world. His docs don’t come down on either side of a given conundrum  —  are any of the far-out, would-be explanations of The Shining in 237 the least bit sensible? Is it possible in The Nightmare for people experiencing the horror of sleep paralysis to share in the same horrific vision?  —  but he carefully doesn’t contradict any of his subjects either. His new film, an exploration of what’s known as “simulation theory,” concerns a pattern of thought described back in 1977 by the heavily adapted science fiction author Philip K. Dick during an appearance in France, suggesting, Matrix-style, that all that we think we see and know is actually an intricate virtual reality, brought to us by an unseen technological force. True to his form, Ascher interviews numerous applicants to the theory  —  many of whom portrayed by VR avatars in their own homes  —  including scholars, practitioners, and skeptics, and bolstering their arguments with an assortment of other media, from Minecraft, Philip K. Dick-based films, and crude computer animations, to video games, and youtube videos. The views are intentionally conflictive  —  one subject suggests the very idea of such conflict is the basis of the simulation  —  and anything but conclusive, but, of course, that’s the very point. Less unsettling than The Nightmare, one of the few true horror movies of the documentary genre I’ve ever seen, save for the account of Joshua Cooke, who pled guilty to killing his parents in cold blood after cementing his belief that the ideas portrayed in The Matrix were completely real. Listening to his step-by-step description, from prison, of his descent into madness, and where those impulses took him, is to drop into first-person shooter psychosis.

Coming Home in the Dark: Both Australia and New Zealand are blessed with spectacularly beautiful land that is filled with wide-open, terrifying vast spaces in which any amount of evil may lurk. In dark, violent films like Wolf Creek and Killing Ground, all that beauty and space is turned on its head by far more chaotic inclinations, rendering brutally effective, and stomach-churning sadism as a means of displaying the horrible duality of the land. Kiwi director James Ashcroft attempts to add to this cinematic legacy with this film, a murder-abduction sort of thriller, in which a family on a camping trip in the wilds, is brutalized by a pair of killers they come across. In a twist that at least one of the killers, Mandrake (Daniel Gillies) would have us believe is a coincidence, it turns out the patriarch of the family, Alan (Erik Thompson), used to teach at the abusive orphanage school in which both Mandrake, and his partner, Tubbs (Matthias Luafutu) suffered as children. It’s not a believable conceit, which Ashcroft seems to readily admit, but because it makes the connection, the film attempts to work as a kind of metaphor for the violence which we didn’t perpetrate, but also did nothing to stop. Mandrake as an avenging angel, foisting Alan’s lack of empathy back onto him in violent spades. It’s difficult to fault a film for not being transgressive and shocking enough, exactly, but despite the theatrics of the situation, and Mandrake’s coldly comic engaging of the couple in “regular conversation,” it doesn’t have the heart to be as effective and unsettling as it needs to be. It plays it too safe, which saves the audience from being plunged into the all-too-realistic terror of, say, Killing Ground, but also dilutes the stronger point it wants to make about systemic brutality.

The Blazing World: Related to the 17th Century Margaret Cavendish novel in basic concept, Carlson Young’s feature debut walks a wobbly line between linear narrative, and neo-gothic opera  —  only with a soundtrack instead of singing. The story concerns a young woman, Margaret (Carlson), who loses her twin sister to a drowning accident as a child, but has imagined ever since that her sister lives in some alternate vortex of reality, heralded by a grinning demon, Leonid  (Udo Kier, of course). Coming back to her childhood home before her battling parents (Dermot Mulroney and Vinessa Shaw) move out altogether, Margaret meets some old friends, does some drugs, and finally enters the fantasia-like world that Leonid has been beckoning her to for most of her life in order to find her trapped sister. There, she must amass a series of keys, plucking them from demon versions of her parents, and confront her own guilt and pain in order to unlock her twin and set everyone free. It would be easy to say Young’s reach far exceeds her grasp, but the fact that she was willing to attempt such an audacious project says something about her artistic chops. And for every moment that hits wrong, there are several more that work in interesting ways. Her aforementioned use of music, and sound design invokes a kind of Kubrickian aesthetic, and her commitment to her vision is palpable. This likely won’t be the best film she ever makes, but it does portend to a filmmaker worth keeping an eye on, going forward.

Sundance goes mostly virtual for this year’s edition, sparing filmgoers the altitude, long waits, standing lines, and panicked eating binges  —  but also, these things and more that make the festival so damn endearing. In any event, Sundance via living room is still a hell of a lot better than no Sundance. A daily report.

[triple-a-enderdragon]

End of Act 1

But far from over

First | Previous | Next

Something was very wrong, that much was apparent. Without checking his comms, Tango knew, as he had with Cub and Xisuma, that Iskall was dead. That's not what was so troubling, though. The flash of blue and the sudden horribly alien glee rippling through him freaked him out.

Now, more than ever, Tango needed to focus. Never mind that every hermit who came to watch was also dead, but Iskall dying was critical and Tango didn't have time to find out why.

He could hear TFC–or Earth, rather–directing Stress and Grian to stay in position, and for that he was grateful; he could focus on what he needed to do.

Which was–he now realized–to facilitate a little chat.

~~~

He never felt himself hit the ground. One instant he was falling in incredible pain, the next he was standing in front of a massive pillar of fire.

Iskall expected to be afraid, but he wasn't. He was furious; part of him realizing the fury wasn't entirely his own.

As the pillar of flame walked closer to him, a voice rang through the thick air:

How dare you.

The pillar stopped. Again, the voice rang out:

How dare you.

The pillar looked as if it would speak, but it never got the chance; it disappeared in a flash of smoke. Behind the clearing smoke, however–

Was Xisuma.

~

Xisuma's base was a whirling inferno. The only thing keeping the four avatars from burning was Tango's sheer will; a will he directed at the inferno itself.

"Fire! As I am bound to you, so you are bound to me! Answer!"

I need not answer you!

Tango looked at Fire grimly. "You already have." He layed his hand on the altar's southern point, the other avatars mirroring him.

Do you even know what that does?

"I do," said Earth, calm and unfazed. "It calls forth the wronged, and you have just committed a grave mistake without considering the consequences."

Another flash of brilliant blue light and Fire was thrown into the wall, a sparkling diamond figure where he had stood.

How dare you! You thought I wouldn't interfere!?

Wh–I don't understand–

Because you don't think! You never think! Now your avatar has to do it for you!?

~

"X?" Iskall, still in shock, was trying to process everything. "I thought you were dead. Or am I dead?"

"We're both dead. Though, I'm wondering who the diamond-blue person behind you was; he seemed furious," said X, looking past him.

"Diamond? Huh." Maybe that would explain a few things. "What have you been doing this whole time?"

X looked amused. "Saving you and Python from mobs of pigmen for one."

"Ah, that was...quite nice. Thank you."

A pause.

"So now what do we do?"

~

What have you done with him!?

Nothing yet! Why would you even care!?

Why would I care!? WHY WOULD I CARE!? Surely you can't be this blind. Release him!

As if I'd listen to the likes of you.

Don't make me force you.

Oh, you're threatening me? Is this how you want to handle this!?

YOU WRONGED ME.

...

RETURN HIM.

For a moment nothing moved but sparks and embers. The internal conversation that took place must have made an impression; Fire's flames dampened. He seemed almost afraid.

...alright geez. Calm down.

A flash of light.

~

Joe was kind of glad he hadn't gone. When he'd asked Cleo if she wanted to watch the spectacle, she'd reminded him about Cub, and about how he might wake up alone and utterly confused. And even though Joe was ready to go outside and safely die from a creeper-induced heart attack, she was right. He thrived on confusion, but that would be just tacky.

They had been conversing quietly—Cleo was telling him of a weird dream she had earlier—when an explosion went off, in the distance, from the direction of X's base. Joe could think of a few reasons why that would happen, but none of them were good. Evidently, Cleo came to a similar conclusion and started to head outside.

But before they could make it far, a noise could be heard from the Ministry.

Cub was waking up.

~

Whatever panic Python had when Iskall passed out in the tunnel now returned tenfold. As he laid Iskall's body next to X's, he tried his best not to think about his situation. He already disliked the Nether; hours and hours of quartz mining had seen to that. Now, alone with no foreseeable way out, Python knew he would never go back in if he could help it.

But all that dread soon turned to relief as two of his friends, one just recently taken, started to stir.

~~~

Several days had passed since Cub found himself in the Ministry and X, Iskall, and Python walked out of the Nether. Outwardly, things returned to a normal rhythm. But know everyone knew they weren't alone. Besides the Four Cardinal Directions–as they were now known–no other avatars were revealed. Some hermits, however, had their suspicions.

X had been in his base for the past day or so, sifting through world data. He had suspicions on a few counts, and both had finally borne fruit.

First, he'd confirmed his (suspicions) about the shadowy being who approached him years ago. They had been an Element from the End, yet his encounter with them left him scarred and definitely not an avatar. He hadn't yet found why.

His second findings were on the diamond-blue person and his connection–if any–to Iskall. And hoo boy, was there a connection. There was the same connection between the two of them as there was between Tango and Fire, or Stress and Water. Iskall was Diamond's avatar.

Curious, X had searched the other hermits for a similar connection, and found two. Doc and Ren. Doc had been fairly easy to figure out; his scary ability to mold redstone to his liking, his eerily accurate diagnostics on whatever was wrong with a circuit, his strange cybernetics. Doc was Redstone's avatar.

But Ren. Ren was a mystery. The only reason X had figured out Iskall and Doc's Elements was because he already had had an idea of who it could be; but with Ren, he had no such idea.

All X could do now was wait.

~~~

"I don't know why I wasn't killed by the magic blast, Tango. I was kind of hoping you would know."

"But you were killed when you hit the wall..."

"Are you trying to figure out why?"

Tango looked at Zed, amused. "And you don't want to know?"

Zed laughed, saying, "I just thought it was my wonderful personality."

"To save you from a incredibly powerful magic blast?" Joking as they were, Tango was deep in thought. And in a situation like this, there was only one thing to do, experiment!

~~~

As he approached the entrance to the Stock Exchange station, Mumbo was pleasantly surprised to not hear angry yelling. Entering the station proper, he couldn't immediately see Doc, but he knew he was here.

Sure enough, Doc was working on the departure/arrival area of track, fine-tuning the minecart dispensing and re-uptake system.

"Doc? You here, mate?"

A head poked up from behind the platform. "Yeah, man. What's up? Checking in on me?"

Mumbo looked a little sheepish. "Yeah, kind of. You all right? Redstone no longer going haywire?"

Doc climbed out of the rail pit and looked at the vending machine. "No, it's weird. After this whole 'Element' dealio, everything's gone back to normal. I'm not sure how to explain it, but I don't really want to know, either."

"Yep, I can understand that. don't want to mess with anything."

"Yes, that."

They both stood in companionable silence for a few moments before Mumbo asked, "So, you want any help with this one?"

Doc looked at him, amused. "If you're up for it, then I won't turn you down."

As they worked, Mumbo was constantly amazed by how intimately Doc knew his redstone circuits, able to pinpoint exactly where a change needed to take place without needing visual contact with it. Between the two of them, redstone powerhouses in their own ways, the minecart circulation system was one of the most beautifully constructed machines either of them had seen.

~~~

"They really aren't leaving you alone, are they?"

"I feel like they think I've been away too long."

Stress laughed as one of the huskies tugged on Iskall's sleeve as he tried to leave the lab. "And what makes you think that?"

"Hercules! Honestly! I'm not going very far! Sit!" Hercules obediently, if a bit reluctantly, let go of Iskall's sleeve and sat. "I'll be twenty minutes, and I'll be back, ok?" Iskall scratched Hercules' ears and said, "Good boy. I'll be back soon, I promise." Hercules whined, but stayed put.

Finally able to take off, Iskall went after Stress, who was already in the air, waiting for him. When she'd contacted him about the ice farm (of doom), he welcomed something fresh to do.

"From how he acts, you'd think it's been weeks since he last saw you," said Stress as they flew side by side.

"Well, he's always been more attached to me that Venus is. Besides, I think he could feel what I went through. You ever had that feeling? That your dogs know what you go through?"

"That hadn't really occurred to me, but now that you mention it, I could believe a few of them do." Stress paused for a moment, before continuing, "The rest, I'm not to sure about."

The rest of the way to the ice farm, they chatted; mostly about their animal companions and future plans for the lab.

~~~

It was dark. The sun was far overhead, but under the dense jungle canopy, it was dark. A shape edged through the shadows, careful to not disturb whatever might be lurking beyond them. A parrot, intrigued by this movement, perched nearby and started chattering.

"Where did—? Shush! Not now, dude!" Ren was desperately trying to quiet his stubborn new friend, who was quite happy to argue back.

"Of course I can handle myself, I'd just rather not tangle with anything if I can help it! Don't you have someone else you can bother?" Ren listened to the bird. "Fine. Come along if you must, but please. Be quiet!" The bird settled herself on his shoulder, quite pleased.

Now thoroughly distracted, Ren had to get back on track. He was looking for an ocelot, though why he wasn't quite sure. Even if he did find one, he wasn't sure he could get very close. He wasn't stealthy like Python, or fast like Grian; and ocelots were notoriously difficult to negotiate with. Negotiating was still his best bet.

It took the better part of an hour for him to glimpse a flash of yellow in the dense foliage. Crouching down, he once more impressed the importance of silence to his parrot passenger; he didn't want to spend more time than he had to out here. She ruffled her feathers and stayed quiet.

When he moved closer, Ren heard a small mew. Tentative, inquisitive.

"No, I'm not going to hurt you." He listened to the ocelot meowing, answering, "No, nothing like that. I just want to talk."

As the ocelot slowly crept from it's hiding place, Ren became aware of a gentle green glow from behind him. Turning around, a figure seemed to emerge from the trunk of the nearest tree. If that wasn't enough to make him faint, she spoke.

Welcome. The forest has accepted you, you are finally ready. Come, walk with me.

Utterly shocked, Ren fainted dead away. Maybe it was a bit to much.

[aspire-to-the-light]

Some personal thoughts on alcohol

I’ve always been a little scared of alcohol.

I have good personal reasons to be a little scared of alcohol. My father was something of an alcoholic; he’d stay out late at the pub, drive home drunk and yell at my mother (at least until he was given a DUI with me in the passenger seat, at which point my mother made him stop). Many of the people I knew in school started drinking very underage, at not-really-that-secret parties in back gardens and attics and locations which weren’t usually literally ‘behind the bike shed’ but are well described by the phrase. Those alcoholic parties caused problems. This was an upper class kind of thing, so nobody really got arrested, but a lot of girls were repeatedly raped. I was a lonely miserable nerd who never ever drank and I was pretty attached to that because it seemed like it kept me safe.

I also have good non-personal, fairly objective reasons to be scared of alcohol; it’s a fairly dangerous drug. It’s not that inherently dangerous, but the culture around it makes it more dangerous. Many people and spaces will encourage or pressure you to drink more than you really consent to drinking, downplay the risks and fail to implement safeguards, and normalise intoxication to the point that doing stupid things while dangerously drunk seems funny. Plenty of people get hurt or die, all the time, because they got drunk and ended up in fights or car accidents.

Earlier this year I decided to try alcohol anyway, for a myriad of reasons. Partly I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Partly I wanted to stare the demon in the face, and understand more about this terrible substance that fucked up so many people I knew. Partly I was interested in the general idea of a drug that might make me relax for once in my life, and alcohol was the only really legal one.

So I had three units - an amount I calculated as enough for someone of my body weight to be affected but not be at any real risk of poisoning - of cider, at home with somebody I trusted to take care of me and ensure I didn’t do anything stupid. My sitter was fantastic and made sure I didn’t spend any money, post anything publicly, or send badly spelled emails to any potential employers.

So I washed up all my dirty dishes, because as it turns out, alcohol lowers your inhibitions. I was really fucking inhibited about touching that pile of mouldy plates. Alcohol made me want to clean them all.

And then when it was wearing off I lay down for a bit, and had this incredibly lovely experience of just lying down being enough. See, I have the kind of ADHD where boredom is literally ever-present and must be fought against constantly. I can’t ever just lie down and relax, because I wouldn’t be stimulated enough, so I’d be bored, and I’d get the urge to jump up and run around and sing loudly and do stuff. I can be listening to loud punk rock music and talking to friends while playing a fairly intense video game and still need to pick my phone up and multitask a bit more so I won’t be understimulated. Scrolling social media can provide a sort of brief respite by being hypnotic enough that I don’t care that I’m incredibly bored, but usually I struggle to feel really good and happy if I’m not hosting a party where I’m juggling cooking five different meals, singing along to music and talking to guests about difficult academic problems. I think a good life for me would be, like, a 24/7 high speed car chase with the radio blasting and people fighting hand-to-hand through the car windows.

So there I was, just lying in bed looking at the walls and the ceiling and daydreaming quietly, and.... it was okay. It didn’t take any active effort to suppress my urge to be loud; it was just natural to be quiet. It wasn’t painful to stay still. My brain didn’t itch. The silence wasn’t deafening - if anything it was a pleasant kind of quiet, and I could appreciate the little rustles of carpet underfoot and the breath of air through the cracked window. I didn’t need to get up and jump around and do something, because it was perfectly fine to just be there where I was. The way my lamps honeyed the wood of my cabinets was pretty, and my own thoughts were engaging, and the blankets were warm, and that was interesting enough that I didn’t need to go seek out more.

That was really good, and wasn’t at all like the experience I had imagined. I had imagined alcohol as this thing that strips away your civility and gives you random impulses to do stupid things, with the particular impulses varying from punching people to trainsurfing to lying on the floor giggling depending on unpredictable facts about your brain. It does affect everyone differently, but for me it mostly just magically created the kind of state of relaxation that I’d normally have to work very hard on building the circumstances to achieve.

Okayness with the world has been easier to achieve, I think, since then; I have a better idea of what it feels like, so I know what I’m trying to achieve.

I’d said beforehand that I was just going to try it once, just because I wanted to know, and then never again. It was sort of difficult to admit that I was wrong. Partly because it’s just always difficult, when you’ve been very proud of Not Conforming To Normality for many years, to admit that normal people kinda had the right of it. Partly out of what I think is still a legitimate concern that trying something and finding it good is not good evidence for doing it again if that thing is known to be addictive. It is useful and important to be able to commit to trying only so much of an addictive thing and then stopping.

I changed my mind because I trust myself more than I did before. I was fixed on the idea that I needed to never have alcohol, because that was the only way to ensure I didn’t have a bad amount of alcohol. Sometimes commitments like that are necessary, but only if you have a good reason to be afraid that there’s a slippery slope. I know that I need to play no Minecraft at all today, because if I say to myself “just five minutes” I’ll play Minecraft for hours; I have lots of experience and evidence that tells me this will be the case. I decided I believed in my ability to discern what a sensible amount of alcohol to consume is, and stick to it, and so far I haven’t had evidence to the contrary.

I’ve been able to relax the limits as I learned more about alcohol, in a way that genuinely doesn’t feel like I’m ignoring my commitments as I get addicted; it feels like growth. The first time I tried it I was adamant about a lot of limits. I bought a single can of cider so it would be impossible to have more even if I wanted to. I made sure I had a sitter I trusted. I did not leave my room. I ate beforehand and drank a lot of water during. I did a lot of research on alcohol content and my body weight. I didn’t take my normal medications because I wasn’t sure if there’d be any interaction.

On subsequent occasions I’ve tried alcohol outside the house - again with the same person I trusted to look after me, who held my hand carefully to make sure I didn’t stumble in front of any cars. I’ve tried it relatively unplanned, after an ordinary day where I took my meds (I looked up possible interactions and found none) and did normal things, again with the OK of someone I trusted just to make sure I wasn’t making really dumb decisions. I’ve tried it on a day when I had also drunk caffeine, after I was confident the caffeine had all worn off and I wasn’t having enough of either to hurt me.

I’ve tried alcohol without anyone physically present to take care of me, just friends on a voice call, and had an insanely good time playing video games with some other drunk people who all thought it was hilarious to play the game how it was absolutely not meant to be played. I knew by that point how alcohol affected me, I was fairly certain nothing bad would happen, and I knew I would be capable of calling for help fairly nearby if something bad did happen. I knew I would be staying inside the entire time, and I had water and well-stocked food cupboards.

Most recently I had a glass of champagne for New Year, outside of the house, without a pre-designated person to look after me. I was with friends, and I made them aware that I’m a lightweight and checked in with them that they’d be okay with taking some responsibility for making sure I got home alright, and they were. I ate a decent meal beforehand, drank plenty of water, and had a fairly small glass.

I’ve learned that I have not, whatever my fears, inherited some kind of genetic alcoholism. I don’t need absolute, deontological rules to prevent any chance that I might do something stupid. I am capable of not doing anything really stupid, even when my rules allow me to do things that are stupidity-adjacent.

I’ve definitely fucked up with alcohol. I shouldn’t have accepted half a glass of wine when it was offered at a work celebration; I knew I was going home immediately afterwards, but didn’t realise how incredibly overwhelming and intimidating alcohol would make navigating the Tube, and I got quite distressed and had to take a taxi to the rail station. I tried using it as a study drug once, on the theory that I’m inhibited about studying and maybe it would help, and I fucked up by choosing someone to watch me who has severe depression. Her mood influenced my own a lot more when I was tipsy, so we both just kind of sat around and felt miserable and I didn’t get anything done.

I think I’m okay, though, with having rules that don’t try to prevent anything bad from ever happening, but just minimise how bad things can really get. I’ve fucked up with alcohol and it’s cost me the price of a taxi and a half-day of productivity. I learned things. It was okay.

I can still count the number of units of alcohol I’ve ever consumed, but it will be okay if I lose count, because I don’t need to be able to tell people that number to prove I’m not my father’s daughter. I know I’m responsible. It is healthy if I don’t feel the need to prove it.

I have rules about alcohol which I genuinely don’t think I’ll ever relax, no matter how experienced with it I get, and other rules which I’ve added as I learned that some things are bad ideas. I won’t have alcohol in the company of people who I don’t like and trust. I won’t have alcohol with other people unless they’ve consented to taking a little responsibility for me. I won’t have it alone, though physically alone is fine if there’s people connected by voice or video. I won’t have it if someone I respect tells me it’s a bad idea to do that right now. I will not be pressured into having more than I intended to have. I won’t drink it at work, or in big cities, or when there’s a difficult transit system between me and home. I make sure that I have food and verifiably-not-spiked water available, that I know how to call for help and that it’s nearby if needed, and that I don’t have important or difficult tasks that I’m responsible for.

I’m still horrified when I witness things like... I did an internship in the City this summer where our bosses took us for drinks and then people banged on the tables chanting to pressure an intern into racing to drink an entire bottle of wine faster than his supervisor. That was very bad. And I expressed my horror at the time, and frankly I don’t care that I didn’t get the job.

But I like alcohol. So, once a month or perhaps even fortnightly, it’s okay to have a drink. Even two drinks, on rare occasions. I have carefully studied the literature and concluded it is unlikely this is enough to cause me significant harm.

And I’m actually really pleased with this development. It feels from the inside like a healthy relationship to alcohol. It feels okay to let go of some of my younger self’s fearful commitments and rules. I’m proud that I can have this, that growing up around such unhealthy attitudes towards alcohol does not mean I have to be abstinent forever.

Being teetotal fit in with the identity I built for myself, once. I was the good kid in school, the one who never drank and never dated and got good grades and never swore. I think I needed that identity as a crutch when I wasn’t so sure of myself, and as help to resist peer pressure when I wasn’t so good at boundaries, and as a simple way of making choices when I wasn’t good at that either. But it turns out it’s okay to, piece by piece, let go of the entire thing.

I do not think this is grounds to recommend alcohol to everyone. I recently had a pretty appalling experience where someone in my friendship group got drunk and we all made the delightful discovery that excessive alcohol gives him psychotic episodes where he worships a mad death god who wants him to kill people. I have set a hard boundary that I will leave if this friend has more than a couple of drinks because I do not enjoy the experience of a friend giggling while graphically describing exactly how he’d love to slowly murder me. There are people who should not drink, not ever, not even with all the rules and limits that have successfully kept me safe.

It’s just... my experience, I guess, which I wanted to share because I feel like I’ve learned a lot through the entire process. Sometimes things that are scary can be genuinely dangerous, and yet if you navigate them carefully and responsibly, you can extract the wonderful part without ever placing yourself in much danger. Sometimes you don’t need hard rules that wall off the stupid things you could possibly do, if you trust yourself to just not do stupid things. Sometimes taking pride in never being tempted means you’re cutting yourself off from something good.

Alcohol still scares me a little, and that’s fine. It should. Just not irrationally so.

[cats-thoughts]

procrastination

alrighty while i wait for something else to distract me, anyone who stumbles across this must hear about minecraft and my best friend. suffer >:] anyways my pfp is me n my best friend the Frogord. we r opposite vibes. also they r annoyed by sounds and i am annoyed by sounds that arent me but i also vocal stim so we suffer when we r together but its FINE apparently i give them energy or smthn its wild. he is very cool tho love him lots. anyways we play Minecraft together when we can except i have no time and their computer is baaad sucks 2 be him lol. but we try. anyways we play a modded server now is lots of fun, i made a big yellow tower bc its my favorite color and they're making an edgy mansion right next door, and i call my house the lemon tower and they call it the piss tower >:[ and i realized i did not have any space in my tower so I'm building a huge base under it, like with rooms stacked on top of each other, and all of them are pride flag colored. this is bc my chest room ended up being pan colors on accident i just was like. yellow walls! blue is a good color, floor :] oh hey pink would be a nice way to finish the room! oh this is just the pan flag okay. anyways the next room is the ace flag it's my smelting room. my next one's gonna be nonbinary it'll be my villagers. but i cant work on it bc SCHOOL. which i should work on. anyways we play characters too and by that we pretend like we do bc no one else cares about storylining LMAO im an enderdragon person thingy and he is a shapeshifter. except we are also actually ancient people tied to gems after this whole ordeal with something or another i don't actually know i don't focus on that my character has amnesia and only really remembers their current life. they r very old tho like a few hundred thousand years at least. i found out how to turn netherack into netherite too using a mod bc im just that good. we have no storage space im a grade a hoarder in mc i never get rid of anything. i haven't moved anything but valuables into my house hhsghjs im working on killing the dragon 20 times so i can prevent anyone from ever respawning it again it's a long story im gonna build something in one of the towers. it brings the dragon egg back when you kill the dragon I've got like 12. i don't want anyone else to get one cause then they can have a pet dragon and im being evil and gatekeeping that. if they get one i may or may not be forced to kill it because im evil like that. side note i don't like being evil but i also get way too committed to the bit and the idea of someone else having a pet dragon makes acid rise in my bones for some reason i guess im just an asshole or something i genuinely do not know why??? anyways so much love for froglord they let me talk about my wet cats (lifesteal) and i also got them addicted to mcyt by showing him technoblade's potato wars it was so funny. he is now in love /p with charlie slimecicle. i did this. oh and ivory too he loves /p ivory. i was actually with them when the techno news dropped they tried v hard to comfort me i appreciate it. anyways that's the post haha sorry for the terrible everything i don't want to punctuate properly. or spell. that's for losers. sidenote i wrote this in like 5 minutes why am i so fast at typing no i want to procrastinate more pls there is not much more i can ramble about hhhhh i don't wanna do history claaaaassss it suuuuucks

[minrcrafter]

WestCastle SMP [Semi-Vanilla] [SMP] {Community} {Grief-Protection} {Whitelist} {Discord}

Welome to the WestCastle SMP!

Server IP: 85.14.227.70:25565

Our Discord

Why we opened the server

My friend and I, both being big fans of the HermitCraft-Project on YouTube, decided to open our own SMP-Server. In the past we both have played on many similar servers, but for us none of them could get it just right, so here we are with our freshly started server!

Description

We kept the server as vanilla as possible, while providing high security for our players. Our only two plugins are CoreProtect to restore griefing and ban griefers quickly as well as Blocklocker to lock your chests, doors, etc. Everything else is 100% vanilla.

The idea

Our idea was it to create a community driven SMP server on which people of all ages, countries and with different playstyles can have a fun time together. The map on the server is completely fresh, by now we have only started by providing a little infrastructure to make the start more easy. Because of the community aspect it is highly encouraged to stay in the spawn region, but if you for example want to be on your own, you can do it, too! We don't want to force anything. A naturaly formed community and spawn-town are our visions.

Rules

The Server-language is english

No Griefing

No Hacking/ cheating/ glitching/ abusing

PvP only with consent

Be respectul towards other players and the world

No begging

No controversial content e.g. in the chat

Listen to the Server-Team

Land is claimed by placing signs with your name

You can claim any land that hasn't been claimed yet (the first end-portal will be public however)

Claims in the spawn-region must be of reasonable size

For intense farming we request that you go away from spawn, so that the land won't get wrecked

If you have any questions you are always welcome to ask the server-team

Report rule-breaking to the Server-Team to keep the server clean

Requirements

Unlike many other servers where you have to be a youtuber or streamer, you don't have to be that here. We are searching for people who enjoy the vanilla minecraft experience and want to be part of a minecraft community. We don't demand certain online-times or anything like that, but being active and somewhat commited is highly desired. If you want to join the server, just drop you Minecraft username in the comments as well why you want to join and whether you have played on any other SMP in the past. Or you can write a direct message on reddit or on our Discord. This isn't part of a selection, but it is easier for us when we know a little bit about you. Then we will contact you back and add you to the whitelist.

We are looking forward to your messages!

[springbudeyes]

I still haven’t found Home.

Hello, reader. I guess that’s what I’ll call you. After leaping into the last portal of a shattered world and wandering a vast space, I finally found a place with my creator. But soon I grew bored of his thoughts. The world he lived in had no use for me and I wanted to see my friends again. I wanted to see Ianite. So I thrust myself back out into the void and bounced from dream to dream. All of the worlds I encountered had one thing in common: they were made of cubes, like Ruxomar had been, and were inhabited by “players” much like Sparklez and the others. These players, who seemed to live half in the cube-world and half in a higher one (probably Sparklez and my master’s world) were role-playing as my friends. Ianite appeared to me in a few different skins, none of them containing the goddess’ spirit (or perhaps I just wasn’t seeing it). Some players followed Ianite, others Dianite, and they waged wars in the name of the gods. I never met a Mianite follower. Apparently, he wasn’t that popular. I recalled that during our time together in Ruxomar, my Lady (yes, I’ve adopted Sparklez’ word for her) had entered other worlds through dreams while she slept. I must have been following in her footsteps. So I carried myself as such: Andor of Ruxomar, Dream-Wanderer (no—that sounds a bit trite). I told them who I was and a few seemed to remember me from the moments the streamers had shared with them, but when I tried to offer my services or become involved in the community, it was as though I were “just another player.” Maybe they didn’t believe I was the real Andor. Maybe they just didn’t care. In truth, more of them were interested in the old Mianite world than in Ruxomar. The streamers had warmed up a far bigger crowd to the old world, where, according to every account of the place I had heard, the three gods had taken root in the minds of their creators. Season one-ers to the core... Admittedly, I parted ways with one “server” by wishing Ianite’s Taint upon it. Anyway, maybe the original Mianite world was where I needed to go. But I could navigate the void no better than a boat could steer through the air. Then came a dream that was unlike the others. The players in this world embraced me for who I was. The Ianite here wasn’t mine, but she was kind, and a man calling himself Boss (who had a very cool skin) was eager to learn about me. He and the crew asked me plenty of questions about myself and I quickly began to learn the tricks that made the streamers’ world work. For example, they asked me if I had Skype and Discord. Boss said they were meant to be used on a computer. I hadn’t heard of them, but I recalled that the streamers had used computers and that Deviser Gaines, Dianite, and Sparklez had been interested in that sort of thing. Boss sent me something he called a “link.” As soon as I focused on the current of energy, my mind was dragged into a tunnel of light, which opened into a vast white chasm that played images and sounds before me. The microcosm was teaching me to “install” the thing Boss had called Skype. Naturally, I was astonished. He said that I was a good role-player. I clarified that I wasn’t one. (This was something I continually had to do.) Eventually, I “searched” my way to Skype’s “download page” and underwent the laborious process of shoving the program’ glowing blue icon into my skull. While doing this, I was partly in the cube-world (or the “Minecraft” world, as they might call it) and partly in the other dimensions I had opened. I was getting a taste of the life of a streamer, straddling dimensions and resolutions.  I made my usual offer: to sculpt anything on request. Almost immediately, Boss asked me to become a Wizard. Apparently, this was the role you took on a server when you wanted to be hired to build things for people. I recalled that Waglington had been part of a similar operation in Ruxomar with a few players I had never met. Boss took me to a room with chests where I could both store my gear and take requests for builds, which came in the form of books that players wrote. As a Wizard, I would build things in exchange for diamonds. I clarified that I was only good at sculpting and not at architecture or machinery. They were fine with this. While I continued the long process of setting up Skype, my first Wizard request came in. A fellow named Nada wanted a statue of himself. I teleported to his island and studied his skin and shield. It would be a fun little project. But as I was preparing to start, Boss asked to see pictures of builds I had made. What a torrent of activity! I hadn’t felt so wanted in years. They weren’t “pictures” in the sense of the word that he probably meant, but I sent him memories of the black dragon coiled around Sparklez’ Fortress of Fury and the towering statue of Ianite and the hawk crowning Dagrun. He was more than a little impressed. With my mind stretched in several directions, I finally hunkered down to start that sculpture. Backtracking a little, Boss and Nada had been surprised that I knew how to use essential commands. It was obvious to me that a creature living in the cube-world for as long as I had would know how to use at least some parts of it and it was satisfying to see that light turn on their heads. Anyway, Boss gave me creative mode. And suddenly, I was a god, darting around at flyspeed 10. I had experienced this in a few other dreams, but never on a server filled with Mianite players. Nada’ bewilderment made me giggle a little; he hadn’t known about flyspeed. I was about to start my work (again) when Boss presented me a book and quill. At first, I didn’t know what it was for, so I kept it in my inventory and ignored it. Then he told me to sign the contract. What contract? He told me – again – to just sign it. I opened the book. Indeed, it was some crazy proposal asking me to commit to being Staff on this server for a month. Apparently, I had proven myself a bit too useful. I remember saying aloud, “Is this about to become a nightmare?” It had never been in my nature to let myself be trapped, and besides, it wasn’t my choice to stay or leave. I revealed the truth: a dream could end at any time, and it was not within my power to make promises. Boss, Nada, and the role-play Ianite were sad, and probably didn’t understand, but I did promise one thing: to spend as long with them as I could. That being settled, I finally – finally – began my work. Unfortunately, their server’s version of voxelsniper was quite different from the one I was used to working with, so I only got so far on my rough shaping before I was forced to take a research break. I left the server, hoping to return, and that’s where my story takes pause. I thought I might write this little post – using an old link to my master’s world – to share my experience with those of you who might still be wondering what’s happened to me. This is the answer: like Andor, still wandering. I’ll try to send another progress report when the time comes. Until next time, Your lovable bore, Andor P.S. Many interesting things were said in my dialogue with Boss, Nada, and Faux-Ianite, and I’ve forgotten quite a few of them, but one comes back to me now. It occurred to me to ask the players how long they had been living in their cube-world. Boss said over a year; Nada said just a month; Ianite was “afk” at the time. That’s not long at all, but like my creator, they all must have lived quite a lot longer in the higher world they came from. Before they created their Minecraft world, they must have watched the streamers play in Mianite and Ruxomar. That must have been how everything began.  I’m beginning to form a similar bond to these players to the one I had with Sparklez and the one I still have with my creator. Although I may never breathe and walk in 3d, I will continually strive toward higher levels of real-ness, just like they do.

[pixiexi18-blog]

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[rosiaqd45-blog]

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