#anything you could ever want

[old-antecedent]

Love-Letters and The Fifth Era

Much ado has been made over the "love-letter" purporting to be of the fifth era. The same for the text that followed it. I have been asked several times for an interpretation, and since it has precious little bearing on anything, I shall give it freely here for my own convenience. For the uninitiated, a certain mystic "found" a missive somewhere and claimed it was from the future. A copy of it (and of all his rambling nonsense from before and after) of course resides in Apocrypha. Later, the same fellow penned a long vision of the future titled "C0DA". The full text of the letter can be found here, and C0DA can be found here as an illuminated manuscript. I wish not to get into the various idiosyncrasies of Karkuxor's revelatory processes, the nigh-mythical stories some tell of his exploits, and his various works or lack thereof in important historical moments. It does not matter. These texts are to be seen by the shadows they cast on reality. Numidium is the 20th section of C0DA, and its climax. As such, it holds the essence of Karkuxor's argument. It is a verbal clash between purported dunmer Jubal-lun-Sul and the Numidium, brass god of the dwarves. Sul represents the side of love, and Walk-Brass represents the side of hate. This is the primary lens through which Karkuxor see the world. It is a struggle between smiles and frowns, harmony and discord, acceptance and rejection, etc, etc. Love defines the good, hate defines the bad. These are not simple "war is hateful" platitudes. Any good thing can be re-classified as a form of love, any bad thing re-classified as a form of hate. The dwarves and their god are motivated by rejection, by violence, by short-sighted hate. Almsivi and their people are guided by long-term love. You may find this an acceptable coloration of the world. Very poetic, very elegant. Wraps everything up into a neat package with a little bow on top. Except, do you really think Almalexia should be considered on the side of love? Should fucking Molag-Bal? Yeah, I don't buy it. Reducing all conflict to uncomplicated good and evil is stupid at best. Sometimes it forces you into nonsense, like pretending Dagoth Ur's charitable intent for the people of Tamriel excuses corprus. The other idea argued for in this confrontation is total subjectivity. Numidium wants a definitive answer. It was developed specifically to find one, after all. Sul decapitates it after lecturing it about subjectivity and tricking it into agreeing with the existence of shades of grey. Karkuxor's intent could not be clearer. Objective truth does not exist in the Mundus. This moves in concert with the total lack of veracity the documents have. Nothing in Karkuxor's images of the future can be trusted. This is intentional. How could you expect anything else when it descends from that parade of self-serving lies and insufferable ego, that myth-building nonsense masquerading as philosophy, the Sermons of Vivec? It is openly subjective, built around a core of mythic word salad that is compelling to its author first and foremost. These texts may be some grand revelation of the future, or they may be whole-cloth creations of Karkuxor's strange mind. That is the point. No one can decide the future concretely. There is no one in charge of Nirn, not really. You can choose whatever Tamriel you want. This is the other important moral of the love-letter and C0DA. And this is precisely the problem. C0DA intends to argue for endless personal interpretation while also heavily pushing its own interpretation. Why take Karkuxor's claim of universal subjectivity seriously when his claim of love is so much louder, so much less compelling? It drowns out any other possible read on first pass. The prose does not merit a second pass. The ending of the words is this: the love-letter and C0DA are far too convoluted and masturbatory to properly convey "love is the only force for good" at the same time as "choose whatever Tamriel you want". Which is a shame. That's a very good message to lose.

[arsenicflame]

Bonus round! Do you use a queue tag?

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[tea-n-ink]

Homesickness is where the heart is

[always-a-king-or-queen]

The ache will go away, eventually. 

That was what the Professor told them, the day they got back. When they tumbled from the wardrobe in a heap of tangled limbs, and found that the world had been torn from under their feet with all the kindness of a serpent. 

They picked themselves off of the floorboards with smiles plastered on child faces, and sat with the Professor in his study drinking cup after cup of tea. 

But the smiles were fake. The tea was like ash on their tongues. And when they went to bed that night, none of them could sleep in beds that were too foreign, in bodies that had not been their own for years. Instead they grouped into one room and sat on the floor and whispered, late into the night. 

When morning came, Mrs. Macready discovered the four of them asleep in Peter and Edmund’s bedroom, tangled in a heap of pillows and blankets with their arms looped across one another. They woke a few moments after her entry and seemed confused, lost even, staring around the room with pale faces, eyes raking over each framed painting on the wall and across every bit of furniture as if it was foreign to them. “Come to breakfast,” Mrs. Macready said as she turned to go, but inside she wondered. 

For the children’s faces had held the same sadness that she saw sometimes in the Professor’s. A yearning, a shock, a numbness, as if their very hearts had been ripped from their chests.

At breakfast Lucy sat huddled between her brothers, wrapped in a shawl that was much too big for her as she warmed her hands around a mug of hot chocolate. Edmund fidgeted in his seat and kept reaching up to his hair as if to feel for something that was no longer there. Susan pushed her food idly around on her plate with her fork and hummed a strange melody under her breath. And Peter folded his hands beneath his chin and stared at the wall with eyes that seemed much too old for his face. 

It chilled Mrs. Macready to see their silence, their strangeness, when only yesterday they had been running all over the house, pounding through the halls, shouting and laughing in the bedrooms. It was as if something, something terrible and mysterious and lengthy, had occurred yesterday, but surely that could not be. 

She remarked upon it to the Professor, but he only smiled sadly at her and shook his head. “They’ll be all right,” he said, but she wasn’t so sure. 

They seemed so lost. 

Lucy disappeared into one of the rooms later that day, a room that Mrs. Macready knew was bare save for an old wardrobe of the professor’s. She couldn’t imagine what the child would want to go in there for, but children were strange and perhaps she was just playing some game. When Lucy came out again a few minutes later, sobbing and stumbling back down the hall with her hair askew, Mrs. Macready tried to console her, but Lucy found no comfort in her arms. “It wasn’t there,” she kept saying, inconsolable, and wouldn’t stop crying until her siblings came and gathered her in their arms and said in soothing voices, “Perhaps we’ll go back someday, Lu.” 

Go back where, Mrs. Macready wondered? She stepped into the room Lucy had been in later on in the evening and looked around, but there was nothing but dust and an empty space where coats used to hang in the wardrobe. The children must have taken them recently and forgotten to return them, not that it really mattered. They were so old and musty and the Professor had probably forgotten them long ago. But what could have made the child cry so? Try as she might, Mrs. Macready could find no answer, and she left the room dissatisfied and covered in dust. 

Lucy and Edmund and Peter and Susan took tea in the Professor’s room again that night, and the next, and the next, and the next. They slept in Peter and Edmund’s room, then Susan and Lucy’s, then Peter and Edmund’s again and so on, swapping every night till Mrs. Macready wondered how they could possibly get any sleep. The floor couldn’t be comfortable, but it was where she found them, morning after morning. 

Each morning they looked sadder than before, and breakfast was silent. Each afternoon Lucy went into the room with the wardrobe, carrying a little lion figurine Edmund had carved her, and came out crying a little while later. And then one day she didn’t, and went wandering in the woods and fields around the Professor’s house instead. She came back with grassy fingers and a scratch on one cheek and a crown of flowers on her head, but she seemed content. Happy, even. Mrs. Macready heard her singing to herself in a language she’d never heard before as Lucy skipped past her in the hall, leaving flower petals on the floor in her wake. Mrs. Macready couldn’t bring herself to tell the child to pick them up, and instead just left them where they were. 

More days and nights went by. One day it was Peter who went into the room with the wardrobe, bringing with him an old cloak of the Professor’s, and he was gone for quite a while. Thirty or forty minutes, Mrs. Macready would guess. When he came out, his shoulders were straighter and his chin lifted higher, but tears were dried upon his cheeks and his eyes were frightening. Noble and fierce, like the eyes of a king. The cloak still hung about his shoulders and made him seem almost like an adult. 

Peter never went into the wardrobe room again, but Susan did, a few weeks later. She took a dried flower crown inside with her and sat in there at least an hour, and when she came out her hair was so elaborately braided that Mrs. Macready wondered where on earth she had learned it. The flower crown was perched atop her head as she went back down the hall, and she walked so gracefully that she seemed to be floating on the air itself. In spite of her red eyes, she smiled, and seemed content to wander the mansion afterwards, reading or sketching or making delicate jewelry out of little pebbles and dried flowers Lucy brought her from the woods. 

More weeks went by. The children still took tea in the Professor’s study on occasion, but not as often as before. Lucy now went on her daily walks outdoors, and sometimes Peter or Susan, or both of them at once, accompanied her. Edmund stayed upstairs for the most part, reading or writing, keeping quiet and looking paler and sadder by the day. 

Finally he, too, went into the wardrobe room. 

He stayed for hours, hours upon hours. He took nothing in save for a wooden sword he had carved from a stick Lucy brought him from outside, and he didn’t come out again. The shadows lengthened across the hall and the sun sank lower in the sky and finally Mrs. Macready made herself speak quietly to Peter as the boy came out of the Professor’s study. “Your brother has been gone for hours,” she told him crisply, but she was privately alarmed, because Peter’s face shifted into panic and he disappeared upstairs without a word. 

Mrs. Macready followed him silently after around thirty minutes and pressed an ear to the door of the wardrobe room. Voices drifted from beyond. Edmund’s and Peter’s, yes, but she could also hear the soft tones of Lucy and Susan. 

“Why did he send us back?” Edmund was saying. It sounded as if he had been crying.  

Mrs. Macready couldn’t catch the answer, but when the siblings trickled out of the room an hour later, Edmund’s wooden sword was missing, and the flower crown Susan had been wearing lately was gone, and Peter no longer had his old cloak, and Lucy wasn’t carrying her lion figurine, and the four of them had clasped hands and sad, but smiling, faces. 

Mrs. Macready slipped into the room once they were gone and opened the wardrobe, and there at the bottom were the sword and the crown and the cloak and the lion. An offering of sorts, almost, or perhaps just items left there for future use, for whenever they next went into the wardrobe room.  

But they never did, and one day they were gone for good, off home, and the mansion was silent again. And it had been a long time since that morning that Mrs. Macready had found them all piled together in one bedroom, but ever since then they hadn’t quite been children, and she wanted to know why.

She climbed the steps again to the floor of the house where the old wardrobe was, and then went into the room and crossed the floor to the opposite wall. 

When she pulled the wardrobe door open, the four items the Pevensie children had left inside of it were missing. 

And just for a moment, it seemed to her that a cool gust of air brushed her face, coming from the darkness beyond where the missing coats used to hang.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

one morning you cling to satoru’s back and sleepily plead for him not to leave for work and he feels closer to killing the higher ups than ever before

[birdy-babe]

I’m 100% sure this is already general knowledge but it’s my first time thinking about it and I’m kinda obsessed-

Bc of S2 Ep3 Exs and Ohs we get a small glimpse into Moxxie and Blitzø’s backstory, where we find out that they meet RIGHT after Moxxie’s impromptu “break up” with Chaz

And then based on the trailer we got a glimpse of what is supposedly (and in my opinion, most likely) Blitzo and Millie’s first meeting, based on how young they look and the fact that Millie has long hair.

So…

Does that mean Blitzø introduced Moxxie and Millie?

I don’t know why but I’m obsessed with the idea that Blitzo introduced them. I think it’s such an adorable plot line <3 I love the idea of them both being friends individually with Blitzø before they became a couple.

It would also describe why he’s so obsessed with the two of them. Maybe because he’s so happy to see their love bloom, knowing he helped get it there <3

(But maybe it’s also because he had to sit back and watch them get the thing he’s always wanted most in life: unconditional love. He looks at them sometimes and just thinks “why not me? When will it be my turn?”)

[sergle]

When ppl will create a "curvy" girl character and get pretty much the whole body's proportions right, obviously they're putting emphasis on bust/hips but it seems like it's being executed well--- except that they completely, fully, and deliberately, skip the stomach entirely. Just nothin there. Not even a whisper. I'm like. Just sack up, make it make sense and be honest with yourself by making it official and say it's canon that they got a tummy tuck. You cowardly ass, yellow bellied, wet brained, upside-down dog mouthed dirty bitch.

[deoidesign]

Wearing your boyfriend's jacket

[chrisrin]

i love ctm'ing here's some of the outfit variants i've been drawing for the different maps i'm playing with different friends <33

and here's a bunch of older doodles of me and mel ctm'ing that i drew back in like, early 2023?

also if you CARE AT ALL. about my LOVE OF MINECRAFT CTM MAPS. here's my tierlist of the one's i've played:

(i'm working on calamity canyon rn)

[megafart1]

Fiddauthor doodles

*leaves this politely on the floor and scurries away*

yeah. enjoy ^_^

[somerandomdudelmao]

The way I would hyperfixate on Marble Sky so hard if it were an official graphic novel/book is insane.

Give me some time and support and I might make one haha

[fatedroses]

And some days, I just wish you wouldn't look at me at all.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[b-blushes]

i <3 planners/journals/scrapbooks

[cock-guillotine]

parachute infantry is a good book