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#IM SO FUCKING HAPPY HOLY SHIT
kodicraft · 8 months
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huge day for math people
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diah-the-demon · 6 months
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YES I FUCKING GOT TICKETS FOR ADO WORLD TOUR FUCK YES
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lovesomehate · 2 years
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Me: living my life, reblogging some stuff
Ao3 fic update alert: the devil you know has been updated
Me:
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may-loves-kai · 1 year
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I GOT MY FUCKING ACCOUNT BACK AHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHHA
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jetstarred · 9 months
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me booting up my computer to play the sims vs me remembering a new rusty lake game is out
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commander-revan · 2 months
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He's so mad about being on the same dragon as Endeavor
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kristiliqua · 4 months
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CHUNSIK MY BELOVEDDDDDD
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hearties-circus · 1 year
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She is literally so pretty who gave her the right
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cquackity · 10 months
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OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! :D 🎉🎉
here, bedrockverse tntduo as a little gift :]
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kayzean · 6 months
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And soooooo, with that movie 3 teaser and the logo matching adventures 2. The brainrot took over...
Plz PLEASE click for better quality!
Plz don't repost to other socials thanks!
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gl4ssfan · 11 months
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i blacked out and suddenly leo and mikey were on my screen
will probably be doing raph & don soon as well
expect SO MUCH mutant mayhem art these guys have infected my mind
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starlypenguins · 2 years
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LOOK ITS AUTISTIC PEOPLE
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definitely-jax · 27 days
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the-kipsabian · 14 days
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alan wake 2 dlc hype has begun :') 💜💜💜
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feline-evil · 4 months
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Never gonna be over how unutterably pathetic and in dire need of ANY kind of companionship or friendship that doesn't revolve around their band the entirety of dethklok are. I love these horrible idiots who are so devoid of any real connections outside of themselves that they will latch onto anyone unfortunate enough to get too close to any one of them! And GOD help anyone they latch onto!!
#jay talkin#metalocalypse#im thinking about the doubles episode where they just seem genuinely happy to have 'friends'#who arent like. industry people. these men are so starved of any kind of connection#and it takes them four seasons a rock opera and a movie to realise they can find that in each other lmao#also thinking about how quickly any of them bond and become really intense abt anyone in their life#aka: NATHAN TOWARDS ABIGAIL. oh dear poor abigail oh dear#but also toki to damn near anyone and this goes for the entire band tbh as well they all do this at least once#and yeah its mainly cuz 10min eps mean u gotta progress stuff fast#but also holy shit. charles these boys want friends so bad u gotta set em up on playdates or smth#maybe it'd get some of their dumb stupid idiot energy out and they'd be better behaved. well. no they wldnt but... u can dream#i do think theres smth to be said that yeah all of dethklok are cool theyre metal superstars they r good at what they do#theyre also fucking prophesised saviours too and theyre also incredibly dangerous idiots and terrible ppl#but never forget that they are also. so so SO pathetic and isolated and dysfunctional#these men have not lived in the real world in decades and are disconnected and unsocial and spoilt and u can see that this does impact#the way they interact w the world! they need like. anything other than the band in their lives hah. they do need to pal around#im glad they find that in each other eventually!!#i dont want 2 sound like im babying them or infantilising them these r grown asshole idiot men but like. listen these shitheards r lonelyyy#everyone in their lives is like. assigned to be there and is set as beneath them in a class and workbased system#they dont rlly have ppl who r just there cuz they like em. outside of fans. and fans arent rlly a real connection yknow#their only connections come via work networking sex and violence and worship baby!!!! its fucked up!
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whollyjoly · 2 months
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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
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(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.
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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
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