#my brain is connecting shit

[gifti3]

What is happening

[yrsonpurpose]

I will no longer be the prince of shame and of secrets. Starting today, the world will know me for who I am and not who you want me to be.

[chamerionwrites]

Sometimes you have an idea/argument/theory that is suitable for an essay. Maybe even a thesis. Other times you have one that looks like this:

Which is the point ime at which you’re like fuck do I have to write a novel

[redrobin-detective]

Me watching any media that takes place in the hospital and aggressively pointing out equipment I use and stuff I do. Bonus points is they're totally doing it wrong.

[hood-ex]

Everyone shut up. So you know how Dick saved Jason from falling off the train?

Nightwing (Vol. 2) #105

Well, Jason ended up paying Dick back years later by saving Dick from being hit by a train.

Task Force Z #8

I mean, is it Jason's fault that Dick was nearly hit by a train in the first place? Yes. But let's just ignore that for a second and focus on the grab and pull. The, "I got you, kid," and the, "Gotcha."

[sillymille]

You Don't Know Me is Eddie breaking up with Marisol and confronting Buck about him acting weird and thinking that Buck and Tommy are dating when in actuality it's Tommy showing Buck the difference in what friends do and what he and Eddie do.

[yujeong]

Me being totally normal: I can surely figure out what page he's at if I stare at it for too long

Also me, staring at it for too long: Wait...is he reading....the foreword...? I can't believe it took me this long to realize Vegas is reading the first page here. It might not even be the foreword, it might be info about the author, it's so funny. But don't worry, the good news is that he's actually reading the book in this scene:

which, of course, you can make the claim that beforehand, he was not in a good mental state (Vegas? not being mentally well? No fucking way right?) so he was trying to distract himself from whatever the fuck the whole thing he's doing at the safehouse is, but after him and Pete talk and bond and all of that good stuff, his mind can focus and actually read the damn book. Sidenote Because I'm a bit insane and very committed in finding things to obsess over with my hyperfixations, I estimated the possible percentage of the book he might be currently at, then went to the appropriate page and found this line there: "He felt very gay and light-headed, and quite forty years younger, as he walked to the door."

I swear to God, it was there, and I laughed so hard they must have heard me over in Thailand.

[mogcubed]

i think i’ve seen practically every single piece of content related to flowey the motherfucking flower on this app and it’s not enough. my brain hungers for more. why is this.

does anyone know what condition this is? should i see a doctor? is there a cure? please help????

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 251

so like remember when i said i was gonna be mentally ill about utena

[hercarisntyours]

Tf:one elita and orion yap (no spoilers)

ngl I'm loving the exhausted team mom aspect of Elita/Ariel (calling tfone elita Ariel here) in Transformers One, as opposed to Optimus generally being exhausted team dad (eg prime, animated ect).

They basically get swapped and that's really cool because generally we see Ariel being more down to earth, calm, care free ect with Optimus being the opposite; and then with Orion being more uptight, straight laced ect (prime, kinda g1, animated (okay especially animated for a tfone Ariel comparison!!).

I'm asuming from clips and trailers (because I currently have not seen the film) that tfone Ariel kinds of lets go, especially after getting t-cogified, and less bitchy to say and more like the Orion we see in g1, more witty. Whereas I'm assuming tf one Orion gets more uptight, mature ect and more like tf one Ariel was, becoming the g1 Optimus we know.

so I guess what I'm trying to say is tfone Ariel has the general Optimus personality where as tf one Orion has the more general Elita-One personality. Obviously not to a T but I'd definitely say Orion is more in line with the up beat, chill personality we've seen general Elita have and Elita has the general stoic, rule stickler personality Optimus has. Which then gets swapped as tfone Orion becomes Optimus and tfone Ariel becomes Elita-1, I think, I'm not sure hopefully the gist of what I'm thinking gets across 🫶🏽 and obviously the film isn't out yet so this is pure yapping based on 10 minutes of unconsecutive clips

Kind of tfone Elita gives of the primes dont party clip from transformers prime vibes and tfone Orion has earthspark elita vibes

It's just really cool we get to see that oposition 🫶🏽🫶🏽

anyways so exhausted team mom elita and little fucking shit would go viral on vine orion for the win

[barghest-land]

i hate how people always tell me "but ur gonna miss winter if u live somewhere else". maybe i will. but right now, i don't care. right now it hurts to breathe every time i live my house. right now, i have to walk through deep snow, and it takes so much energy that 10 minutes walk makes me exhausted like i walked 10 kilometers. right now, having to put so much clothes makes me feel heavy and uncomfortable. the days are short, and the sun is there only when it's -25C, and it doesn't feel warm at all. u may sit in the sun that goes through ur window and still feel nothing from it. the sun feels too far, all the life, friends, happiness, feels so fucking far i find it physically hard to cope with. all this makes me want to stay home, cuz i hate how unfriendly the winter is to my body, but staying in the apartment for too long feels so isolating too. it's hard to create when all u feel is "i miss everything". when ur alive but missing life at every second. i hate winter i wish it could be over sooner

[certifiedfae]

rhaenyra’s girlkissing is like when dan and phil both came out separately. like rhaenicent is half confirmed and the girlkissing recontextualizes the whole relationship as shown in the show. im losing my mind u guys

[all-thestories-aretrue]

Here are the Thoughts™️I promised @discordkittenterumi

This post is a much longer follow to this post from last night as I was listening to episode 60.

This post is also in conversation with with something @peppedstep mentioned about Neil’s loyalty to the coterie, which I touch on briefly.

Everything sort of solidified in my brain after finishing 60 at like 2 am last night.

In 60, we see Neil wake up in a strange place with Weathers and Amara with him. The last thing he remembers is running from his sire which seems to be several days ago.

Neil also does not remember much of Baghdad (which is a whole separate post that is coming. I have many thoughts about Nara and Neil in that situation).

He routinely has panic attacks, some of which lead to dissociation. For example, before his trial in 37 and 38, we see him go catatonic when he realizes his haven is under attack. Dissociation is not usually something that happens to someone once and then never again. It’s a coping mechanism, and I don’t think it’s a stretch to say it’s something he experiences, perhaps not regularly, but with some sort of frequency.

In addition, many of his rituals require his mind to be separated from his body, and we know kalif also impacts his cognitive function as also seen in Baghdad. He has the capability of astral projecting which leaves his body behind, defenseless. The ritual with the bull in 6, he had others stay nearby just in case something were to happen. The second time he completes the ritual, Johnny escorts him.

Neil is often dependent on the people around him to keep him safe, and we see him repeatedly look to others for their judgement before he makes a decision on his own. He looks to Nara to trust Jubair, and he looks to Amara to trust Catherine and this mission. In these two cases in particular, he’s forced to rely on others’ assessments of the situation because he cannot make his own. In addition, relies on Britta and Miles to defend him in court while Johnny and Wynn take care of his haven. He also places an immense amount of trust in the coterie and their decisions, generally speaking.

Peppedstep mentioned that family is important to Neil, the coterie is important to Neil. He consistently revolves around the idea of keeping them together and spending their final nights together. I agree, but to add another layer to that, Neil trusts everyone in the coterie, and as has often been discussed, trust is an extremely rare commodity for Kindred, and in some cases doesn’t exist at all. What Neil has with the coterie almost seems to be unprecedented given the general picture of the Camarilla and Kindred society the audience is presented with. He knows these people will protect him and/or his body when he is unable to.

I would imagine, without them, his quality of life would be diminished, and all it would take is one mistake, one bad episode, for him to meet final death or another horrible fate, especially considering his abilities. It was a stroke of luck that Amara and Weathers picked Neil up.

His drug use, mental health issues, and magical abilities all work closely together to form a complex web of memory loss and a distrust of his own opinions. Even further, I would argue that his memory loss contributes to his lack of a sense of identity.

I believe it’s been mentioned a few times that Neil doesn’t really have a strong sense of identity (I am not going to sort through all 60 episodes to find those sources though, sorry! I do think it might have been brought up at the party when Fester was preparing him?), and that’s proven by how he talks about his worth early on when Wynn confronts him after the bull ritual. He, and I am paraphrasing here, believes he is useful because he can provide the coterie with knowledge. Later on, he mentions that Miles kept him around because of his specific abilities which again, his worth is tied up in his usefulness to people.

This mentality is compounded by his early history with his sire. In 51 or 52 (I can’t remember which and I’m not going to look it up), it’s described that Neil looks at his sire the way one might look at an abusive parent. Neil is absolutely terrified of this person even now. Based on Neil’s nonconfrontational personality, some of his coping mechanisms in the face of this abuse could easily be making himself small, agreeing with his sire, etc. leading to the people-pleasing nature we see in Neil now. Peppedstep also posited that Neil could have been Embraced to be made in his sire’s image. We know he is a loner, we know he has visions, and maybe he also feels the need for family in his own demented way. Regardless of if that is true, Neil’s sire had a massive effect on who Neil became as a Kindred and without question would influence his sense of identity. If Peppedsteps’s theory is true, then Neil’s sire would have stripped away any sense of who he was to remake him in his image.

TLDR: Neil has memory loss from a combination of drug use, mental health issues, and magical abilities which make him reliant on others for his safety in certain circumstances and further exacerbate his lack of a sense of identity.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[hajihiko]

I don’t use the word kin, but I do say I relate to characters. I believe it’s technically the same thing but idk kin just… bothers me? Fine for other people but not my cup of tea

oh yeah idc if other people use that I just don't

[dailykugisaki]

Day 223 | id in alt

Maki thinking some very unsorcererly things over a piece of damn cheesecake.

(Read from right to left💥)