#slapped on thoughts

[en-la-casademiamor]

Captains log 01302025

There are lived experiences that derive from past personal trauma or community trauma. There are experiences that foment the narrative of one’s life which stem from recited oral family/cultural/national history/tradition(s) which become cemented as mechanical like beliefs of what is considered true or not. All this happens day to day; day to day. The striking similarities between past/present act like white noise in our minds. This copy and paste response works without complete awareness too. The mind pulls the nervous systems strings like a puppet master, while all the while we incidentally hurt ourselves with our own thoughts, based on some idea of truth and reality. Both of which are different. Whatever is working behind the conscious level behaves like a rat that blows on the bitten skin of a victim, so that the victim is delayed physically from responding. We live in the fog of these moments. We shadow box with our minds, until it threatens to break apart. All these response mechanisms set deep, cause for a body to feel older than what it is: less capable. There is the perception of knowing (too) something, an occurrence, an event as “truth” or as part of unquestionable reality—this rote inclination comes out of “going through that” or “seeing “ that take place”. But life is not linear, stories can be jumbled. There are always nuances by virtue that no two humans are alike. A reflection is only that at face value, and then dependent on who is looking at the mirror. We use our knee jerk tendencies as a sort of gospel, until we can no longer behave or respond in our customary way; or we are stopped by some means or close call, from doing just that. This attitude/script that is followed, blindly or not, insinuates that a level of “knowing” something or someone without actually knowing him/her/them/they determines how we regard real life/the real world. It’s generally hard to live in the space of, I don’t know, better to insert or seclude oneself in absolute ideas. In asserting over our knowledge, we restrain the vague from metastasizing. The vague grey which is sure to become black = the unknown of so many of our why’s, which always circles us all back to our innate fear or notions of death. All this supposed knowing in me, you, us towers to topple within—it’s a mode of enduring under threat, but as people get older, this mode of being serves to shrink the world: one’s ultimate prospects. In this capacity, under this barrage; life becomes the ending to a silent film where the round camera lens/the focal point becomes smaller in size; steadily, until blackness. The years left living before us then look bleak. “I’ve seen it all,” you might say or hear; and yes, we’ve all observed possibly way too much. We are over saturated, and then made blasé. Once there is no curiosity and we slip down the slide of dogma—become the banter of, we “know,” then every act or every aspiration becomes futile. A depressive state then looms: [Anger. Frustration. Rigidness. Isolation. Negligence of responsibility.] This is exactly at which point, it is best to radically fight against one’s own oceanic currents of “knowing” by relenting: I know what I know, but there’s always more. Perceived or otherwise. Pull back the camera lens. Don’t be afraid. None of us “know” everything.

[miss-anaa]

[hinamie]

subject, specimen, spectacle;

should i say that you're dead?

[machveil]

Y/N, over text: I'm so sorry for drunkenly yelling at you

Simon, over text: Do it again.

actually hear me out

TF141 going out for drinks after a deployment, just to unwind and drink after surviving a nightmare of a mission, and Simon gets completely wasted - just drunk off his ass. he’s not a lightweight, he can hold a couple drinks, which is why Soap and Gaz are having a laugh over him slurring out incomprehensible sentences and wobbling in his seat

but, through his thick accent and hoarse voice, Simon manages a couple mumbled words, “Where— where’s m’doll?”. his eyes are as cold as ever but his voice is suddenly so desperate. Price is watching it unfold as Johnny tries to ask Simon what he’s talking about. after Simon grumbles at him that his ‘doll’ is missing and, “Soa— Soap, need m’doll—”, it clicks for Gaz

they’re trying to get Simon to unlock his phone, he’s being stubborn about his mask being tugged down and Soap is trying to get him to tell them his password. somehow, after a couple minutes, they finally manage to break into the man’s phone. yeah, when Simon sobers up he’ll probably mouth off at them, but right now they’re scrolling through his contacts. Simon’s contacts are just people’s numbers, no names - except for one simply labeled ‘Riley’

as soon as Gaz clicks the FaceTime button he hands it off to Simon. he’s not really paying attention until your voice rings in his ears, then he’s quick to look down at the screen. suddenly he’s sated, gaze smitten as his shoulders relax. you can tell he’s had a few, his head dipping ever so slightly as he slouches over, face a little too close to the camera. you’re about to ask why he called you but he cuts you off, muffled by his mask and voice a couple octaves deeper from the alcohol, “Hi, dolly.”

[tariah23]

[ongoing-catastrophe]

Batman is such a great character NOT JUST because he's technically overpowered as hell but everyone loves that instead of being annoyed by it, but also because this fool is so shippable. He's bitchy enough that he can be coworkers-to-lovers with anyone on the Justice League. He's a control freak. He's a trust fund baby. He's a bit of a slut. He's a dad. He can change his personality at will but at his core he's a troll and a hater. Literally something for everyone.

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[dandp]

I post from here btw

[silverior968]

Nobody tell him

[Image ID: A digital 3-panel comic in vertical format, based on a meme from Parks & Recreation, but drawn with characters from Transformers Prime. The first panel has a messy drawing of Ratchet in front of a brown background, holding a vial of synthetic energon. The text reads "Could a depressed person make this?". The next panel has the same set-up, but with him scowling slightly, and text that reads "No." The last panel has no text, simply showing Optimus looking at him with a mix of fatigue, empathy and sadness. / End ID]

[scriblesandbits]

So god created us in his image, right? And that’s cool and all but what if it turns out god, like, hates his own image??? What then????

[sualne]

Will your crocodad au come back? It has an Iron grip around my heart 😭😭

i've been thinking about maybe forgetting posting it vaguely linearly and throwing parts from different arcs whenever i feel like it instead, since it's that damn flashback that got me stuck. i don't know if ppl will vibe with that tho, since i've posted most of what the timeline is supposed to be like it's probably fine/shouldn't be too confusing.

also the timing of this ask is great, i just drew that, inspired by a mom and her kid i saw on the bus today:

[miss-anaa]

[hinamie]

siren!megumi concept sheet i whipped up in a single-minded fever state fr @uriekukistan

[bammtoris]

Jeremy allen White looks exactly like that bird snoopy is friends with

[alley-just-alley]

[How did they do that?]

[magnusthepuppet]

you’re a loser, baby! a loser, goddamn, baby! you’re a fucked up little whiny bitch <3

if these two aren’t endgame then idk what is 🤷