THE END?? - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

Watching coraline for the first time in years lets see if its as good as i remember

I made a graph of my alignments based on a WHOLE bunch of quizzes I took, each “one” is a different quiz. This isn’t the most accurate as I tend to view myself as aligned to the Eye, the Spiral, and then Vast in third, but it was fun to take overall.

Avatars of different tma fears reactions when being faced with the question “would you still love me if I was a worm?”:

The Eye: “I’d put you in a little enclosure for safe keeping. Probably take notes on you.”

The Lonely: “absolutely not.”

The Web: “why of course I would!.” [lying]

The Spiral: “but you are a worm? You always have been one. How could you have forgotten? You are so silly!”

The Spiral: “but you are a worm? You always have been one. How could you have forgotten? You are so silly! No I’m sure I haven’t said that before...”

The Corruption: “if you were a worm I would marry you on the spot!”

The Buried: “yes, but I’d probably put you back in the dirt where you belong.”

The Hunt: “no, I’d use you as bait.”

The Slaughter: “I’d put you in a blender just to watch as you get ripped into tiny worm shreds.”

The Flesh: “well with how ugly you are you might as well already be a worm.”

The Vast: “I’d probably step on you on by accident, woops lol.”

The Dark: “as long as I don’t have to look at you then sure.”

The Stranger: “why of course! You would be so much easier to dissect at that size!”

The Desolation: “nahhh I’d probably use a magnifying glass to set you on fire to be honest.”

The End: “sure why not, you’ll die eventually anyway. You being a worm would just hasten that fact.”

Day 1 - Earth @a-literal-toaster-wtf

This feels of time but the rest get better I swear.

sonic looks around, it has been a while since the last time he went into outer space in his super form. he noticed how he never had the chance to admire the beauty of the stars that always surrounded him. not even now, because he has more pressing issues to deal with. by his side flies the mech -the last titan- he fought a few minutes ago, now controlled by sage, who wanted to help him end this battle. a battle that had started thousands of years ago. 

memories flood his brain, memories that are not his, moments of a lifetime he never got to live but are now with him, a part of the ancients will accompany him for the rest of his life. he closes his eyes and turns around. looking at earth, he reminds himself of his friends’ sacrifice, they were absorbed into cyberspace so he could save the world. heh. so they could all save the world. together. he could feel their energy overflowing his veins, fighting off the cybercorruption from overtaking him, even in his super form. 

turning back around once again, ready to end this, he immediately stops dead on his tracks, eyes widening upon witnessing what was in front of him. the last thing he expected to see was him, staring down at him with a menacing grin splattered across his face. why was he here?

“sage?” he asks, not taking his eyes off of the enemy, suddenly very wary of his movements, “what’s going on?” 

“this is the end, but not its true form.” he hears her explain, somehow connected to his brain. “we need to act now, sonic!”

We can’t let their sacrifice be in vain! They had a plan! Let’s do it!

Another voice in his mind. He recognises it; one of the ancients. Sonic gasps when he realizes that they are with him, just like his friends. They are here, by his side, to help him put an end to this fight and make sure that it won’t cause anymore destruction than it already had. 

Sage starts boosting forward, right towards the end. Sonic looks at it, looks at him, and he feels a bit intimidated (and he hates to admit it) but determination takes over him quickly, as he boosts alongside the huge mech. He needs to ensure the planet’s safety, his friends’ safety and he’s going to need all the help he can get in order to succeed. 

He exhales deeply, not a hint of excitement or cockiness on his features, because there’s no time for games, before he speaks.

“He took your home world. He took your lives.” he talks to no one in particular, but he knows he is being listened to, he knows they are with him, “Are you going to let him do it all over again? I need your help. We can end this. Please.” 

Oh baby, I lost you a long time ago, but I didn’t know it back then Can you please blame me so I can go sleep…. (Inspired by Yixing’s song - I’m not fine)

severingblade‌:

⋰ C O B A L T  ⋱ ☆ ⋰ S T A R ⋱

Once presented with the clipboard, Novus leans forward off his arms, beginning to tug at portions of his mail. The spaces between the links are stretched to capacity and no longer useful, so he begins the process of removing it. The moment he is done reading, it is swept overhead and allowed to fall to the floor in a jingling heap. The process reveals the regrowth plates beneath, strapped elaborately to his person. If Cornelia has an eye for p r a c t i c a l i t y in regards to equipment, she will realize that these plates are astonishingly thin. It is what makes them a viable alternative to b u l k y equipment. They provide a light defense without activation but can rise to the occasion during an emergency.

In the end, he responds with a labored nod, the mere mention of rest bringing about a palpable measure of f a t i g u e washing over him. Conversely, the gesture of holding both her hands out to help him onto his feet fills him with the strength to stand and return home. Connects his grips to hers and feels the counterweight doing most of the work to lift him. Even finds the energy to pat the dust off his rear once he is at a stand.

﮴ If we don’t look, we will not find, ﮴ he repeats. With both acknowledgment of the point and f i n a l i t y. ﮴ Fortunately, we now have the time to do so with no rush. ﮴

A thought crosses his mind. More a memory. Goes back to the first expedition he undertook with Cornelia and he suddenly finds great comfort in the knowledge that the f u l g u r i t e still awaits. An image of the lamp he intends to craft with the material appears in his mind’s eye. Makes him eager to return to his home. A hand rises absentmindedly to settle over his rib cage and apply pressure when its motion is interrupted by something he has forgotten. The helmet. It still hangs there.

Remembrance gives him pause. Causes his eyes to soften pensively. Its presence there is supposed to be motivational. Infuriating. As c a t a l y s t to regrowth plates, providing l i f e to something that is predisposed to dying. It eventually does anger him. A sneer appears on his countenance but it is difficult to decipher the reason. Contextual information might lead one to believe he simply finds it cumbersome.

Yanks it off with a snap. There is almost something d i s p a r a g i n g about the notion. He even appears to consider tossing it when his eyes catch Cornelia’s gaze again. Everything becomes clear in that moment. Tilts it upright and places it upon her head. Pushes down so that her eyes align with the visor.

﮴ The regrowth plates in that helmet are small. Take it apart. Get rid of the spikes and lather them with catalyst. Sprinkle godbug powders upon it. If you’re lucky, they will come to life again. There is a reason they are known as e t e r n a l regrowth plates. ﮴

Figures the young scholar will have a field day playing around with the things. Never mind that there is speculation of Nergigante spawning asexually through the spikes that it leaves behind. What are the chances that one day she will step out into her living room and encounter a baby elder dragon anyway?

With a smile, he turns his attention back to the caves. Identifies which one will take them back home and begins to walk after motioning her to follow. Leaves a broken switch axe in his wake. ( Until Cornelia forces him to pick it up and dispose of it properly. ) 

Two days later.

Novus lies quietly on a hammock in his workshop in Astera, wearing casual leathers and a soft tunic. In the near distance, pacing the boardwalks, members of the commission visibly continue their work. Next to him lies a ceramic bowl full of green grapes. Weaved throughout the bundle of snacks are snow herbs that come just short of freezing them. Turns them into a mound of cold treats with moisture spreading an enticing g l e a m across their smooth surfaces.

Periodically plucks one from the bowl and deposits it in his mouth. With each bite, there is a satisfying c r u n c h. Feels a cold and sweet s p l a s h of flavor spreading across his palette. Meanwhile, his lamp sits nearby upon a wooden surface. Three fulgurite pillars stand in the shape of a triangle while a bed of beryl minerals beneath them shine brightly, powered by lit fire herbs. A resplendent c o b a l t glow flows through the glass. In the dark, its shine is nothing short of divine.

Sitting there in tranquility, he wonders if Cornelia has completed her project yet. Remembers he made it clear that she is welcome to use his shop.

With a grunt and gritted teeth, Cornelia gives her very best shot at helping the heavy hunter to his feet, pulling hard despite the weariness that’s starting to knot her shoulders. She is worn, but the prospect of home drawing close gives her strenght, and she stumbles back, almost falling on her own rear from the energy she puts in helping Novus to his feet. She rights herself after a brief amount of swaying unsteadily, arms flailing.

She feels thankful that he does not truly wear heavy armor, for a time, lest she truly crumple on her rump. The carefully folded regrowth plates on his chest are thinner than expected. Not conventionnal armor by any stretch, and they ruin mostly anything that would stand in their way to add protection. Nonetheless, the discarded chain mail, quite in the sad shape, is picked up by the cautious apprentice. She writes not, only clicks her tongue in disapproval.

She trots to his side, hoping that they’ll be able to reach for the exit soon. She watches as he reaches to hold his chest, seemingly to collect himself, nurse a stubborn ache, and she lets him, but his hand bumps into his helmet. She pays it no mind, staring out to the end of the cavern, trying to think of the way back, and grimacing to herself as she realizes, it might be a bit of a trek. A sharp snap drags her attention back to the hunter, his helmet now firmly in his hand. There’s irritation on his face, and she half-expects him to fling the aggravating object across the cave like a bowling ball.

But, instead, he looks back to her. Cornelia shoots him a light look of displeasure, one not meant to scold, moreso request that he does not part with the precious item. He does, because of course he does. But not in the way she expects. Moments later, the heavy item is wedged onto her cranium, its large edges weighing on her shoulders, and the surprise pulls a surprised squeak out of her. It’s heavy, thick with plating, and it has a... smell. And is, much to her chagrin, a little damp.

Yuck.

She makes a small uneasy sound, shoulders hiking up at the uncomfortable sensation. Through the visor of the helmet, she stares back incredulously at Novus as he announces she can part with the item. Just like that. Scales of a beast that can kill a hunter twenty times over, just given away. Not like she can wear it, the blasted thing is far too large and jingles about her head, sloping forward with its own weight. And it does, flopping forth with a light thump, forcing her to reach up and right it. Still, many thoughts pass her mind, and she nods at his instructions, causing the vexingly large helmet to slide forward once more with a small fwhump. A light groan. Then yet another try at righting it up.

That’s not exactly a gift of extreme generosity. At least she figures it isn’t in Novus’ head. That’s a gift of someone who really did not like that helmet and found a good way to get rid of it while also making the best out of it. The intention behind the helmet being gifted is generous, but, not out of the price of the helmet itself. That he would just throw it away still brings a strange wince to Cornelia’s face. Novus is a strange one indeed.

...It’s a big helmet. She can hardly imagine it ever becoming comfortable. Big shoes to fill, indeed. She plods forth after being requested to follow him, with it still on her head though, preferring to leave her hands free to carry her things.

...And hounding him before he leaves so he does not forget his weapon. Of course.

Two days later

Cornelia groaned, staring at her essay page with a dull, uninterested glare. The sheet of paper is white, pristine, yet vexingly empty. Though she’d made sure to signal the location of her departure, her lenghty, mysterious leave from Astera had not gone unnoticed. And neither had the fact she’d walked back into town with a hunter gone for several days, refusing to tell of the why and hows associated with her journey.

The scholars had creative manners of constructing punishment for unruly demeanors, to say the least. To write a detailed essay on the regrowth plates she’d cannibalized off of Novus’ helmet. That had become her punishment. The apprentice looked up to her large wooden desk, covered in clutter from her project, bathed in sunlight from the large, square window showing the tradeyard.

The deconstructed remains of said helmet were strewn about the wooden surface, bolts and pins and strips of leather, and chipped thorns that had been painstakingly clipped off of it, along with the famous regrowth plates. On a corner of the desk, bathed in sunlight, stood shallow clay dishes filled with diluted catalyst, surrounded by vials and closed pots containing various powders. A mortar and pestle, filled with the crushed juices of a handful of godbugs, completed the set. She’d be able to start the project very soon.

Her eyes drifted idly to the transparent fulgurite chunk, shimmering with sunlight, allowing it to filter through. The sight pulled a sigh from her. She’d still not been sure what to make of the blasted item, but it did make for a nice desk decoration. Too brittle for a chime, maybe a waste as a flower pot...

Perhaps she could come see what Novus made of his. It’d at least help with the inspiration.

Lelouch gets so worked up about Euphemia starting the Special Administrative Zone that he's willing to get shot to get out of it but then he talks to her for 5 minutes and is all like " you win" and smiling.

He's so soft for his sisters, it's so cute.

Jonah Magnus and the extinction

Not sorry about typos, no bata we die by brutal pipe murder.

So like Jonah Magnus is end ajacent.

Martin has elements of the eye and the lonely and could have been an avatar of either.

Jonah has a similar relationship with the eye and the end. He fears the end. He goes to extreme measures to avoid his own death, but at the same time, he brings about the end of everything, not only by causing the eyepocalypse which in itself is the end of the world as it was previously understood by most people.

But we know that if it had not been stopped eventually in order to feed the end people would be funneled through the fears towards the end which I would consider the birth of the extinction.

People often become avatars of things that they both fear and are fascinated by. Jon is so paranoid about being spied on in season 2, but he can't help wanting to know how things work and what is causing things. Jane Prentice was scared of what loved her, but she could not help being fascinated and drawn to it. This is why the hunt frequently goes after itself as evidenced by Trevor and the vampires.

Jonah is end adjacent but of the eye. He watches everything so that he can be the last man standing, he brings the extinction so if he must face the end he can be the last to do so and watch everyone else do it first. It's not just desolation or slaughter-type unthinking cruelty, he is plotting and he is not hurting everyone to try in some way to beat out the end, to know enough to consume everything there is to experience it all before he goes.

We hear of the fears described as body parts of the same being by and as a color wheel. The flesh may be closer in in shade to the to the hunt than it is to the vast. The extinction in many ways a new tendon connecting the end to the eye.

The extinction is not just a human fear. It is what the cosmic eldritch beast that is fear, fears. A time where there is nobody to watch it but itself, nothing to feed on but itself. A great big ouroboros of fear.

If left unstopped this is what Jonah could have birthed, a beast watched by nothing, watching nothing, alone after the end.