#its been sitting in my brain for months

[doodlesdreaming]

Stilled my brain long enough to put together a 'proper' look at my human oc, for the Darksiders universe.

Taken from Earth, and stripped of her memories, she finds herself linked to an unusual construct, that allows her to combat against her enemies.

[randomfingthings]

carlandoscar: this, but like this

[makorragal-312]

This might sound crazy, but wouldn't it be something if Chris ended up being a catalyst for Buck and Eddie to have their respective realizations about themselves and just, everything?

Like Eddie's still dating Marisol unfortunately, Buck's still dating Natalia why god why, and Chris kinda begins to distance himself from both of them and it's making his parents concerned as all hell, especially Eddie. And it isn't until Chris ends up in the middle of a Eddie/Marisol and Buck/Natalia double date and storms off that Eddie and Buck can't take it anymore and go ask Chris what's been going on. And Chris just goes off on both of them:

"Before, it always used to be just the three of us! But now, we're barely together anymore and if it's not because of work, it's because of them! Why can't it just be us?"

And it isn't until everything has calmed down, the girls are gone, and Buck and Eddie are in their respective rooms ready to crash that they just stop and think:

"Why can't it just be us?"

And that's when Buck FINALLY recognizes the hamster wheel he's been on and puts a full stop to it by dumping Natalia and Eddie realizes that he's just not into Marisol and breaks things off.

After that, they spend the rest of the season just focusing on themselves, upgrading the Buckley-Diaz family and going through their respective bi/queer awakenings before the end of the season, where either Buck is the one pining or there's mutual pining from both Buck and Eddie.

[nyxi-pixie]

vecna hiding in wills head deciding to pause before saying 'thats my friend. mike' to add drama to the dramatic romance show hes somehow got a front seat ticket to:

[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

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[intertexts-moving]

realized i can literally just draw whatever i want forever.... hualesbians.

[heyimanowl]

Being dumb again

[danielnelsen]

things aren’t going well with peach. while i think my dad’s very right to be concerned that she hasn’t eaten anything in nearly 60 hours (obviously i am too), im becoming increasingly concerned that she hasn’t slept at all in around 36 hours and prior to that she was under anaesthetic, which isn’t exactly restful, so it’s closer to 48 hrs

like dad took her back to the vet today and we’ve got injections for her painkillers now because she’s not eating, and also injections for fluids (because she doesn’t drink; she only gets water from her food), so the not eating is Bad but also kinda under management, but if she doesn’t sleep soon i’m extremely worried. dad was like ‘if she doesn’t eat by tomorrow afternoon we’ll take her back because the injections will run out’ but like. if she doesn’t sleep tonight we have GOT to take her back first thing in the morning so they can sedate her or something

[mugwot]

hm

[arodrwho]

me occasionally like a fool: hehe my bones are sooo sexy now im basically cured

my hip when i'm just sat there minding my own business: bitch

[arcane-vagabond]

.

[mellotronmkll]

It's always funny Almost completely relating to people's posts about being obsessed with a piece of media but it's clear they mean like a TV show or movie and are obsessed with one of the characters but for me it's literally always always with no exception some fucking band so it's not really the same but it does have the same completely all consuming effect on me

[pupkou]

i’m literally going to **** ******

[celestiachan]

style savvy au where all the different styles/tastes/whatever are edgy as shit and there are only three non-edgy styles and one of them is still alternative

[yuukei-yikes]

I do care what r the birth year headcanons 👀 👁

HELP i cant believe i got asked. its rly simple cuz since kagepro "started" in 2011 but sorta peaked in 2013, i imagine 2011 as the shit goes down year (ayano dies year) and 2013 as the 2 year into the present window. if that makes sense.

as in, in 2013 shintaro would be 18. the dan dies over and over in the year 2013. imagine being stuck in a 2013 timeloop. that would drive anyone crazy

but anyway that'd make shintaro and ayano from 1995, mekatrio (AND mary bc marys age thing is stupid) from 1996, momo from 1997, hibiya and hiyori from 2001. oh and haruka and takane from 1994. thatd make them thirty next year if u think abt it. isnt that crazy. anyways im totally like, a normal person. hey when did you go away. been talking to myself the whole time? okay