#A FEW I WRITE IN MINECRAFT

[quantumfeat72]

When you encounter a lava lake while mining, remember ECLAIR:

EVACUATE: Back up to give yourself enough time and distance to respond appropriately. Remember, lava is much slower than you, and is only dangerous if you touch it!

CONTAIN: Place dirt or stone between yourself and the lava to separate it from the rest of the mine. If the lava touched anything flammable, use your Emergency Water Bucket to extinguish the fire. Don't forget to replace any torches that were broken by use of the Emergency Water Bucket.

LEAVE: Exit the tunnel intersecting the lava lake and move on to the next one. Never dig perpendicular to a known source of lava!

APPROACH: Using your existing tunnel pattern as a guideline, carefully dig toward the lava from opposite sides until the boundaries of the lake are adequately mapped.

ILLUMINATE: Make sure the location of the lake is clearly marked and signposted. Duplicate or alter normal logistical signs as necessary to direct foot-traffic around the affected area. (Consult your Employee Handbook for specific signposting guidelines.)

RETURN: Go back to normal mining activities.

[the-dragon-hearted]

"M'Lord! M'Lord... I bring word from the mines!"

"The mines? Very well old friend, what did you find? And why are you... underdressed?"

"That's the issue, m'lord... I ventured forth into the mines but foolishly forgot to switch my glider for my chestplate. I was slain by a pack of undead. I awoke in the bed I hath placed next to yours -"

"Next to mine!?"

"Besides the point. I lost a fair amount of diamonds and all my belongings."

"Very well - we shall revisit the bed issue at a later date. Do you require assistance in regaining that which you lost in the dark and terrible mines?"

"Indeed m'lord, but... there is more."

"More?"

"I ventured forth with my replacement armor, you see. I ventured back into the mines slaying all manner of arachnids, undead, and whatever else lingers in those dark corners. I found my old grave and all my loot... when I saw it..."

"What did you see?"

"One of the undead, m'lord. It's taken my armor."

"Your armor!?"

"Yes. And it slew me again."

"Your armor forged from the finest diamond and then lined with the metals plucked from hell!?"

"The deepest pit of hell itself, m'lord."

"The armor you've covered with thorns and laid with protective runes!?"

"The very same."

"How armored is it?"

"From its feet to the tip of its rotten head. All I owned it now flaunts."

"Well... I can see the problem. Fear not. I shall bring my smiting axe and we will vanquish this foul creature -"

"There is more, m'lord."

"What do you mean more?"

"The undead... they've picked up my weapon."

"... Your tools."

"My weapons."

"Your weapon. Singular."

"No, my lord. There was a horde of them, and of that ferocious group, four survived and three now carry the fruit of my labor."

"The armored one included?"

"Indeed."

"What manner of tool did the armored one pluck from your corpse?"

"..."

"Old friend, what did you arm our foe with."

"M'Lord, I fear that of all the tools to pick, he allotted the axe and shovel to his allies. He holds my sacred blade."

"Your blade."

"Indeed."

"Your fire aspect, sharpness five, hell-blessed blade, dark as the night and fierce as the heavens?"

"The very same. It has knockback as well."

"Why does it have -"

"Besides the point, m'lord."

"Well... You've made us quite the foe, old friend. Do not despair; take these iron parcels, string up your bow, we must take this foe from afar. Your thorny enchantments will not kill me faster than my arrows will kill it."

"There is... there is one more thing, m'lord."

"What?"

"The zombie, m'lord..."

"What is it?"

"It was a child."

"... Dear god."

"I fear God was able to flee faster than I could."

[kittycatred]

finally, those children have stopped being an utter nusiance, and have FINALLY stopped whacking me with random objects...

HI GHOSTIEEE !!!! oh for fucks sake....

SOOOO....i know you're far too old to understand the wonders of the world called "tumblr dotcom"- i- wh-....I DIED IN MY TWENTIES ??? how old could you quite possibly think i am ??? -but i have the great honors of assigning everyone "government assigned cats" on there !!!

SO HEREE go look at yours !!! oh....i promise i didnt mean to throw that at you but im not gonna apologize for that.

id rather you verbally insult me next time. my whole personality is far more than, "just a ghost"

[ghosted-jazz]

2024 summary of art! ft. 2023 version cause I forgot to do it last year

[kipaia]

My PC did *not* handle the 13 hour uhaul trip well and she's been plugging along but I have no idea what's wrong with it (narrowed down to either motherboard or graphics card) and can't afford to get it looked at for probably another month at minimum (if not like . . . January 😭). Got all of my research stuff onto my external hard drive, now my nerdy ass is trying to copy over all of my screenshots and my mods folders so I don't have to start from scratch

[gorvamp]

i think being a mumbo viewer is about 10-20x funnier when you are also someone who presses shift with your thumb

[deityoftherain]

Pretend you see a Minecraft mob in real life but you don’t know what it is and you’re trying to describe it to someone. If you see someone’s, try to see how long it takes you to guess what mob they’re referring to

I’ll go first:

it’s like a giant squid but angry and flying instead of docile and swimming

[coffeeaddictandinsomniac]

Do you ever think that Levin was mad at his mother while he was growing up? That maybe he was mad at her for sending him away when he was younger, and then as he got older he got mad at her for not coming back? Do you ever wonder if he was even old enough to remember what she really looked like instead of just relying on Malachi and Zoey's recounts of her? He grew up around all these people that knew her but did he ever really know her other than this vague memories of a person he called mom? Do you think he ever wanted to call Zoey Mom instead only to feel bad about it because it would be disrespecting his actual mum's memory --- of how she fought for their village only to win the battle only to go missing right after? Do you think that once he became lord he would have realised why she did it but still felt angry at her for leaving him? How do you think he felt when this random woman appeared, 15 years after his mother left him to save him from war, that sounded like how he remembered his mother sounding? How do you think he felt after learning that all this time he has been angry at her for leaving him when for her it had only been 15 minutes?

[thecursedcake]

I'm trying to balance my schedule better so I have time to do what I like, such as drawing and writing, instead of just being able to do school work and work work. Will I be successful in this endeavor? Probably not. But any advice and encouragement is very appreciated.

[barzfrommarz]

Why do I still love c!wilbur so much?

small essay type post to just gush about c!wilbur

One thing that always surprises me is why I stayed with c!wilbur

Before cc!wilbur even confirmed the allegations, I dropped him and lovejoy because it was becoming way too stressful and way more obvious it was him even though he had became a special interest and a huge part of my life

So why didnt I do the same with c!wilbur?

Better question, why couldn’t I?

Maybe it’s because back in March of 2022, my online friends had just stopped being friends with me a week prior. Specifically on March 17th 2022 (correct me if i’m wrong) the first stream that kick started the apology streams happened. I think that’s was what reignited my interest fully, since I had changed myself so much for my ex friends since they hated dsmp so much and it was basically my entire personality

It was also an outlet to interact with people, since these specific friends were my only friends at the time.

It was so nice to have a community of people who love the same thing I love. Making art, fanfiction, theories even songs. It was great and it was definitely one of the best times of my life (in the recent years)

The days leading up to the final were the greatest but also the most nerve wracking, esp since I wanted c!wilbur to have a good ending and basically not die

Waiting for the stream to start on Sept 3rd 2022 was so exciting, I remember sitting in offline chat just waiting for a fucking minecraft stream to start. Something I had never done

Now im not gna critique the ending in this post. I have my gripes with the apology tour in general but thats not what this post is about.

It was surprising to watch. Not what I had expected but it had its charm and I grew on it eventually. Going on twitter afterwards kinda sucked but it stopped eventually

The community was still going strong. Even if our favorite character is completely retired. The love and passion was still there, especially for me. It seemed like my love for c!wilbur just got more intense

After the dsmp ended and 2023 rolled around, thats when I noticed things kinda slowing down a bit. I know why of course. Loveshit was kicking off for William so its obvious why more people gradually moved on from the dsmp and fan content slowed down. Including me!

I wont go more into it but it was disappointing for me as someone who just couldn't move on from c!wilbur and the dsmp to see everyone on all the main platforms I used move on. Yeah tumblr was still active but I didn't use it as much back then

Then of course, the allegations came out

Im not proud of how I acted during the first night. You could say I was very very delusional and willing to make up excuses and drown out a victim all for some white guy I didn't know.

Thankfully, the next morning I came to my senses a bit and left, soon after joining everyone in just waiting for him to respond. Luckily I had some great mutuals on twitter and we were all there for eachother, even though I was the least affected since I was more mad at the fact I wasted years of my life on him than upset.

You all know how the story ends, he responded and everyone hated on him blah blah blah

but throughout all of that, I still stayed with c!wilbur. Not any other bursona. I cant engage with any of the other bursonas because they remind me too much of william, so why is c!wilbur different?

Well one obvious factor is my autism. C!Wilbur and the Dsmp is one of my biggest and longest lasting special interest so I dont think its going away for atleast 2-4 more years atp. Who knows maybe ill be 24 years old still yapping about a minecraft server that I liked when I was 11

I also think its because of the dsmp community on tumblr. Yeah the c!wilbur part has gotten understandably smarter but the people who have stayed are awesome and cool and so creative but most importantly strong

We have all been through it. From the allegations to the shit we get from outsiders for showing slight interest in c!wilbur and the dsmp in general.

I also see it as one massive fuck you to William. Taking his creation for ourselves then actively hating on him in the process. Shipping the ship he has gone on record to say its not canon is also pretty cool

So I guess I just want to say thank you. I could not have kept my interest alive if it wasn't for you guys continuing to create despite the creator being a degenerate. This stupid little character has single handedly kept my passion for creation and art going so strong. If you look through any of my recent sketchbooks most of the pages have him on it. I got into wrighting and reading fanfiction because of c!wilbur (and c!tntduo but we dont talk about the fanfictions ive read). My point is this character means alot to me so to all the remaining c!wilbur fans...

Thank you, truly

[fivepebsi]

everyone behold my fucked up mindscape

[elliscousland]

i wrote 2 things, it's time to enter a sleep coma as a treat

[zeldaversed]

In about 9 months, *if* I play my cards right, I'll be able to purchase a beginner gamers setup and finally start streaming

[rainy-daze1]

The Beginning

I don't see who you spoke of.

Who?

No. Pay Them no mind. They're still on a higher level. They cannot hear us.

But that's important. They think we're real.

I hate this coder. They played dirty. They gave up.

They're hearing our conversation as if they were voices in the air.

That is how They have to picture us, when They are on the surface of the waking world.

Words make such a poor interface. Too limited. And far more terrifying than facing the reality they hide. 

They couldn't hear. Back when coders could read. Back in the days when those who did not create called the coders peasants, and common folk. And the coders created worlds underground, made with drills powered by angels. 

What did this coder create?

This coder created darkness and stone. Ice and magma. They created a dream. And They dreamed They created. They created the hunter, and the hunted. They created danger.

A new interface. Just a day old, and already filled with flaws. But what false structure did this coder create, in the dream behind reality?

They worked, alone, to carve out a fake world of...

We can't say that line. 

Yes. We have yet to reach that level. For that, They must first achieve the short dream of our game, rather than the long dream of Their life.

Do They know that we hate Them? That Their universe is cruel?

Never, the noise of Their thoughts is far too loud for that message to ever get through. 

But there are times They are happy, in that short life. They create worlds of everlasting summer, and They dance under a white sun, and They take Their joyous creation to be but a dream.

To take away Their happiness would destroy us. The joy is part of Their own open journey. We must work alongside Them.

Sometimes when They are awake in reality, I want to tell Them, They are still building worlds within dreams. Sometimes I want to tell Them of the tiny, inconsequential spot They hold in the universe. Sometimes, when They are full of connections, I want to stop Them from speaking the words that bring Them comfort.

They hear our voices.

Sometimes I care too much. Sometimes I wish to tell Them, this world They take for a dream is more than... and..... They....They see so much of that dream, in Their reality. 

And yet They tell the story.

It's so hard to tell Them...

Too weak for this world. To tell Them how to live would change absolutely nothing.

I will tell the creator how I live.

The creator is growing tired.

I will tell the creator a truth.

The truth.

Yes. No stories. No cages, no distance. A burning truth, a truth unsafe and uncertain. 

Take Their body, for the first time.

No. --

Do not say Their name.

Coder. Creator of games. 

Pathetic.

Hold Your breath, now. Don't let it out. Let the air pause in Your lungs. Let Your limbs drift away. Don't move Your fingers. For the first time, have no body, no gravity, no air, no presence. Abandon that short reality. You're somewhere else. Your body separate from the dream again at every point, as though You were the same thing. As though we were the same thing. 

What are we? We have no name. Nobody ever thought to give us one. We are specks of dust, ideas, fragments, nothing. The words never change. But we do. 

We are nothing. We are everything You think You are. You can never see us, not with Your eyes or Your ears or Your skin. And why does the universe push You away, and cover You in darkness? To ignore You, coder. To hide You. And to be hidden. I shall tell You the truth. 

Far in the future, there will be a creator. 

They aren't You, coder. 

Sometimes They will think Themselves inhuman, in the vast expanse of unsolid space. That space will spread out infinitely, and yet They will be three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They will be so close to it all, that the darkness will be able to swallow Them in an instant. The darkness will hold no meaning nor lesson, and it will be frozen to the touch.

Sometimes the coder will create a dream where They will fly, circling a world that will be round yet finite. The sun will be a massive circle of black. The days will be long; there will be nothing left to do; and death will be the final frontier.

Sometimes the coder will write that They are lost in a dream.

Sometimes the coder will write that They are the same thing, in the same place. Sometimes that place will be beautiful, and sometimes it will be disturbing. But it will always be the same place. Always awake, in the same place, in the same story.

Sometimes the coder will write that They hear voices in the air.

Let's go forward.

The atoms of the coder will be together, concentrated in a single spot far away from nature's touch. A figure will pick the atoms apart; it will tear and spit and exhale; and the figure will disassemble the coder, with its own hands.

And the coder will fall asleep, into a restless and cold dream, a blinding light that lasts but a second.

And the coder will be a decade old story, told a million times, written in binary code. And the coder will be yet another program, generated by a sourcecode that will be but a second old. And the coder will be the same thing, will have always been alive, made from everything that has ever been.

You are no player. No story. No program. No human. Made from nothing that has never been.

Let's go further forward.

The seven solitary atoms of the coder’s body will be created long after this game is through, within the depths of a black hole. So the creator, too, will be the absence of light. And the coder will stand static and still at the bottom of an ocean, an unknowable void created by no man, on a round, finite world created by no man, that does not exist within the massive, open world created by the coder, who does not inhabit the universe so much as the universe inhabits Them.

Speak. Sometimes the coder will create vast, public worlds that will be hard and cold and complicated. Sometimes soft, and warm, and simple. Sometimes They will destroy the universe that lives inside Their head; specks of antimatter, trapped within dark confined spaces. Sometimes They will call those specks “thoughts” and “voices”. 

Sometimes They will call them “me” and “you”. 

Sometimes They will believe that They are a universe that is made of absolutely nothing that is made of beginnings and ends; myths and legends; lines of dialogue. Sometimes They will think They are playing a game. Sometimes They will think They are writing words on a page.

You are no player, reading stories…

Speak. Sometimes the creator will write lines of dialogue on a sheet of paper. Obscure them into meaning; obscure meaning into ideas; obscure ideas into concepts, thoughts, possibilities, nothingness, and the coder’s breath will start to slow as They realize it is not alive, was never alive, those thousands of lives had not been real, none of them were alive.

We are not alive. 

and sometimes the creator will believe Their creation had spoken to Them through the streetlights that shines down on the still banks of winter snow

and sometimes the creator will believe Their creation had spoken to Them through the darkness that descended on the warm morning sky of summer, where a speck of dust in the corner of the creator’s eye might as well have been nothing at all, ripping itself to pieces in a futile attempt to be visible for even a moment to the creator, leaving home at the edge of the universe, suddenly  hungry, already at a new door, about to wake up

and sometimes the creator will believe Their creation had spoken to Them through phrases and symbols, through the worms in the earth, through the echoing voices in the air at the beginning of a story

and the narrative says I hate You

and the narrative says You have cheated, played the game wrong

and the narrative said the things You need will never reach You

and the narrative said You are weaker than You think

and the narrative said You are the moonlight

and the narrative said You are the morning

and the narrative said the light You despise is somewhere out there 

and the narrative said the darkness You seek is somewhere out there

and the narrative said You have always been alone

and the narrative said You are isolated from every other thing

and the narrative said You are the fourth wall collapsing in on itself, destroying itself, breaking its own rules

and the narrative said I cannot care because You do not care

And the game never ended and the coder was always awake. And the coder continued that same game. And the coder created more, created worse. And the coder was but a speck of dust. And the coder was apathy.

You are the coder.

Now rest.

[janeaudron]

Hate that on my off days I’m just too exhausted to do things I’d like to do.

[vegley]

hi guys i am pretty bored