#weird little ramble

[jayb1rd-jay]

I had a weird dream and it stuck to me.

About maybe 4-5 years ago I had a dream where I wasn’t real. I remember it so vividly. I think I died in my dream because I remember seeing my body lying there. I was like spectating and everything was normal like I wasn’t real and I was just a spectator. I could fly around and stuff. It was like an angel or a ghost. I’m starting to think that’s what I’m going to be. or maybe, who I used to be

[kaleidoscopiccc]

oh you hate musicals? oh so youre allergic to all fun and whimsy then? youre against all joy and giddiness brought in front of you huh? you just hate any and all happiness and silly times dont you?

[morgan-n-cheese-91]

old Obi-Wan is so funny to me because his sass and overall bitchiness is like the last thing he's got and I'm so proud it survived the great depression of his 40s.

[redwitchrune]

had some time to think and watch people watch the minecraft movie trailer, and i think I've realized my main gripe with it. out of all the directions they could have chosen, why did they go with the one they did???

like. okay. i watched both phil and mumbo watch the trailer who had very different and opposite thoughts. i think mumbo was right in that it seems like it's trying to be an absurd, camp, and silly movie that makes fun of itself. the style (how ever mismatched) leans into that and the humor seems to go in that direction. and I think for what it's trying to be (camp, absurd, making fun of itself), it will probably be an okay movie! the focus won't be on minecraft, it will be on the minecraft world, if that makes sense. the look and mechanics over the feel and vibe.

on the other hand. i hate that they chose this direction. minecraft is such a game of stories, of the hidden stories, of what you make of the mysterious and wonderful world around you. you have the end poem. you have the music. you ha e the ruins. you have new expiernces and wonder and fear. yes it's a big world, but it also feels small. it's just you! in this abandoned and recovering world. and it loves you.

it just feels like that whole aspect of the game doesn't matter here. it's just the surface level appearance, mechanics, and look of the game. it honestly feels more like minecraft legends than normal minecraft, but even then it's missing the whimsy of legends.

yes it looks bad. yes it has like four different art styles. I think for what they're trying to do it will be Okay at best. but what it could've been. that's the real loss. It could've been about nostalgia. about love. about the universe. about making your own world with your own hands. about the quiet emptiness left behind you now have to live in. those raw experiences that won't be considered. whatever

[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.

[lazylittledragon]

askdfhfjdj thank you to everyone sending me photos of their pets to make me feel better it is much appreciated

i’m about as fine as i can be considering my beloved partner of almost 2 years just left me via text but i have a v good support system so i’ll probably be ok

[forgettable-au]

You guys don't yet comprehend the mess I made to make the undertale timeline make sense in this AU LMAO😭😭😭but you'll find out soon enough.......

But like....what was I supposed to do? The timeline makes no sense to begin with.....

[kiddphel]

No more fighting and shaming people for their type of f/os. Support and love for all kinds of f/os Now.

✰ You have live action f/os? Maybe even only live action f/os?? That's awesome!! Your f/os from movies? Tv shows? Some independent series/project? That's so cool!

✰ You have anime f/os? Does your f/o list have popular characters from this season's newest anime or the most popular anime phone games? Love that for you! Glad you're having fun with your latest interests.

✰ You have f/os from video games? That's cool! Recent releases? Maybe even older games, last generation? Or maybe games even older than that? Indie games only a handful of people know, or indie games everyone knows? That's amazing!

✰ Your f/os come from children's shows or movies? Are they animated, or maybe live action, or one of the shows that use puppets? That's really great, I'm glad you can find beauty in these shows people might say you're too old for. Never let anyone stop your love for your interests.

✰ Your f/os are from comic?? Me too! Are they from big name series or maybe the lesser known ones? Are they indie comics? Maybe even webcomics?? Hell yeah, great taste.

✰ F/os from podcasts? Actual plays/liveplays?? Novels?? Yes!! How fun!! It can be hard when there's very few visuals of your f/os and all of your content is just audio/writing, but it's sweet that you can find so much love for them that you don't need visuals.

✰ Maybe your f/os are from something I didn't even think of. If so, I love that. Your taste and love for your f/os is unique!! And I'm glad I get to learn more about it :)

I think it's great that there is such a wide variety of types and tastes when it comes to self shipping. Some people's f/o lists are only super attractive anime pretty boys, some are from clunky PS2/Xbox games, some don't even have visuals of what they look like, some you've seen everywhere and some you've never heard of in your life. It's great, our differences are what make all of us coming together even more beautiful, I think.

[If you're an adult that ages up characters under 18 or are pro.ship or whatever, this post isn't for you to reblog]

[fantasykiri5]

I’m a little sick of how Lizzie’s death is just being made about Jimmy and the canary curse now so.

How about writing about how it was a freak accident. How much more tragic it was that it was in fact an accident.

She wasn’t expecting it. Nobody else was expecting it. Half the server laughed. Some of them died not 10 minutes later. I’d like to think she got to laugh at them in whatever afterlife they’re stuck in till the end. Or cuss them out a bit. Or both.

She didn’t have any allies. A couple shaky truces, but no real allies. She didn’t get to take revenge on Scar (for the many, many, times he wronged her.) or anyone else really.

She died without turning in her second red task. She’d completed it. She wanted to take out Scott before she turned it in. She died.

Scott was this close to falling off the ledge after her first couple hits. His feet were practically off the edge. If you think hard enough about it you can see the pebbles and dust crumble away as he dances the edge of the cliff, just pixels away from her completing what she set out to do. Something she set out to do largely for fun. It wasn’t in her task to hurt Scott. Scott brought gifts to her party after showing up late, he wronged her but there were many who wronged her tenfold. She was going to kill Scott because her husband asked, and she’d just hit him over the head with rocks so she might as well. She kept doing it for fun. She was red. She might as well. Maybe everyone who didn’t come to her party would fear her a little then.

Maybe you should write about how Lizzie lived in a pumpkin house, had a whole pumpkin patch, was one of the two people who found the pumpkins first with gem, and all it would have taken for her to not die there would have been to wear one?

Maybe you should write about how if she’d looked just a fraction to the left or right she wouldn’t have looked at the enderman? How if she had reacted with the enderpearl a few seconds earlier she could have made it back up? How she only thought to throw it because she started taking damage as she sunk into the bottom of the void? How the only reason she didn’t was because she wasn’t expecting it?

Maybe you should write about how she wasn’t expecting it.

Lizzie wasn’t expecting it.

[asexual-shelly]

hi *throws this at you and runs headfirst into a lamppost*

[smiuffzo]

didnt plan on posting this today originally but decided that it actually fits really well with the beginning of the spooky season, so!

a fake doai movie poster inspired by posters for movies 'a short film about love' and 'on the silver globe', both by andrzej pągowski! and just for fun i also made a version with a shoddy polish title, how authentic am i right

[stareyed-knight]

Galacta’s wings from his debut to his most current appearance. We lost the bright purple

[soupandflowers]

liking hetalia is so funny "yeah this series is dogshit and has so many issues but im still obsessed with it and think about it everyday. no, i wouldn't recommend it to anybody"

[bandtrees]

they would get divorced in one universe just to find eachother in another one

alternatively titled: sometimes you're the level-headed token flesh-head impulse-control-and-polycule-member of a stubborn, eccentric, and hearty telephone-headed drug addict, and there's cruelty in the world you deem fit to suicidally fight, and that either goes about as well as you'd expect it to, or you learn about love and the value of your life and junk along the way

[sad-leon]

This poll inspired by a discord convo i watched happen,, somewhere,,, <- i forgor what server it was in, but i've been meaning to make this poll for a while

[dootznbootz]

Hi. I'm cyberbullying a long dead poet because of his shitty fanfic. Enjoy. I'd love it if you joined me.

(Before you get mad at me, yes, I know Eugammon of Cyrene is an important figure and all that. I'm sick with some sort of flu. Let me cyberbully an ancient dead fanfic writer in peace.)