#DEEP WOUND 1983

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

DEEP WOUND RELEASE THEIR SELF-TITLED 7" 40 YEARS AGO THIS YEAR.

PIC INFO: Spotlight on a record advert for DEEP WOUND's 9-song debut 7" vinyl EP, released under the Radiobeat label in 1983.

"I did this one. Another influence not mentioned much; Elvis Presley."

-- J MASCIS (drummer & co-founder of DW) on their Elvis record ad

Source: https://dinosaurjrbook.com/photos.

#DEEP WOUND #DEEP WOUND band #DEEP WOUND 1983 #Record Ads #80s #DEEP WOUND self-titled 7 inch #1983 #80s hardcore #80s hardcore punk #Elvis #80s punk #American hardcore punk #American Style #American hardcore #DEEP WOUND Self-titled 7 inch 1983 #Hardcore punk #Vintage Ads #Print Ads #Record Adverts #DEEP WOUND 7 inch #J Mascis #Charlie Nakajima #Lou Barlow #Scott Helland #Punk rock #Elvis Presley #1980s #Proto-fastcore #Proto-blastcore

[bestfuckinmusic]

Deep Wound - s/t EP - 1983

More, highly collectable 7″s. Deep Wound, from Massachusetts, had a young J Mascis who would later form Dinosaur Jr. This is better!

#deep wound #1983 #80s hardcore #hardcore punk #j mascis

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: A voice calls to you.

Author's Note: Set around two weeks after the ‘earthquake’ and is canon-compliant except there is no Eddie in 1986. This fic takes a couple of chapters to get going, so stay with me. I am SO excited about this, and I think you will love where it goes.

1986

The colony screeched and swooped, taking off into the inky dusk sky with graceless chaos. Each bat had stretched their wings and dropped from their forest dwelling to join the trilling and flapping. Only one remained.

He perched high in the treetops, an unwillingness to join the others that was not typical for a bat. Impossible for a bat, depending on who you asked. He observed the night grow darker with an entirely unnatural sense of understanding.

Eventually, he would fall from the branch and join the others in the hunt for moths and wasps, beetles and bugs. The hunger would drive him to it, yet the hunger could never be satisfied. It had been like that for one hundred and fifty years.

He was the oldest in the colony and couldn’t remember being young. He couldn’t remember reveling in warm nights or cicada season. He felt as if he had always haunted the forest and always would. He felt, and that was the problem.

The other bats did as all Eptesicus fuscus did. They were born into a colony around April and spent a month nursing from their mothers. The pups grew up, hibernated in the winter, mated, and bared the next generation, ultimately living a short life, just shy of a decade at best.

This bat did not. He did not hibernate alone or with others. When they found warmth and shelter in dilapidated buildings, under tree bark, or in caves, he remained a presence on the boughs of the forest’s tallest trees. He did not mate and did not father. He did not fly patterns across the sky while the town below slept. He ate to survive and continued to live well beyond his species’ dictated years. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He watched over Hawkins, Indiana for over a century. With each passing year, things would change. Slowly, the wilderness had been reduced to clusters of wooded areas by modernisation and industrialisation. It was becoming more and more common for the bats to come into contact with humans. A vast majority of the time, the people screamed and ran, terrified of disease or spooked by urban legends. Some marveled at the bats with respectful awe. Some tried and failed to catch the needle-teethed things for sport. Mostly, they were left alone to mind their own bat business, and mostly, that’s what the ageless bat did.

It wasn’t until mid-nineteenth century that the bat sensed a deep and profound shift. The Lab was built and the earth suffered. The bat had an ariel view and echolocation, but he couldn’t know what happened within the walls. Decades passed and the mystery continued. By 1983 though, he knew his kind wasn’t the only nightmare fuel in the woods.

1984. 1985. And, in 1986 the ground split open, spilling the Upside Down into Hawkins. An earthquake, reported the news. The sixth sense innate in all animals knew better Deers, birds, and bees all migrated out of pattern. The colony of bats entirely disappeared one night, having feared the vibrations pulsating from the cracks in the earth.

Only one remained, an unshakable and quite possibly magical force tethering him to Hawkins.

…

“That town is no place for a witch,” came the warning. “Something is still wrong with Hawkins. Can’t you sense it?”

Infamous in Indiana, Hawkins was the place where buildings burnt and people went missing with threefold outcome. One: they were never seen again. Two: returned, but at what cost? Three: bodies found, so disfigured by unseen violence that it was hard not to believe in monsters.

When the streets fell apart in 1986, sending part of the town down into hell, it would have been fair for Hawkins to lose what remained of their resolve. Yet, the town would go on to rebuild, and between the freshly poured concrete and funeral services, a battle was fought in secret.

“A doorway was opened. They may not claim victory,” came another warning with a beg to heed.

Yes, it would be the fight of their lives, but it wasn’t for a witch to interfere with. That was a hard line in the sand of magic that even you would not cross. They called him Vecna, but you had no name for him. His sorcery was not of the natural world. To let him know of yours would be to risk it all.

There was more to you than witchcraft, however. Hawkins was a town in crisis, and there was space for you to help and heal.

“It’s not just him,” cried a third and final warning. “The ground is consecrated,”

“That’s old superstition,” you dismissed.

“So is blood moon bad luck, but look what happened last time. And falling brooms, broken mirrors, and circles of salt. We are superstition. There are some places witches should not go.”

Your mind was set and your path clear. “Something is calling me there. Doesn’t that have meaning?”

“Not all callings are sanctified,”

“Do we fear holiness or not?” you asked. “I can’t walk consecrated ground but should only show devotion to the sanctified calls?”

There was no answer.

You sighed and softened your voice. “Look, I know you mean well. All you do is out of love. I know that. But, I need to do this. It’s… I don’t know… So real. The calling. It almost has a voice,”

“The timing,” was offered as a reminder.

The first time you felt something coming from Hawkins was when the quote unquote earthquake happened. A catastrophic event like that had to have more consequences than just Vecna, you thought. It could have shifted other magic and natural musings.

“I’ve made up my mind,” you stated with boldness beyond your rank in the coven.

“Are you so willing to discount lore?”

“Folklore. It’s 1986. I know witchcraft isn’t a science, but you have to give me more credit than that. We don’t have to listen to every whisper on the wind and take for gospel the tea leaves in our cups… Nuances, you know?”

Your eyes stayed closed and your hand gripped the pen tightly, waiting for a reply to be sprawled out on the page. When nothing more came, ‘Are you so willing to discount lore?’ the last words scribbled in a handwriting not your own, you breathed out hard.

Automatic writing took a lot of energy out of you, but it was the best method of speaking to The Witches Who Came Before. Reading back their psychographic warnings, you felt a small sense of guilt over defying them, but more than guilty, you felt empathy for a town so beaten by evil over and over.

Hawkins was calling.

…

Aid workers, distressed families, and reporters had flooded the small town, making it all the more easy for you to slip by the city limits unnoticed. Although you weren’t sure what should or could be noticing you, there was still a small exhale of relief when you didn’t burst into flames as you drove passed the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign.

The voice calling you to the town hadn’t been polite enough to give specific instructions. In lieu of directions or coordinates, you drove along roads that appeared to be out of the path of the earthquake, finding your way to a bar called The Hideaway.

Inside, patrons sat around watching their town on the news while staff rushed to cook food and package it up for the crisis centers.

“Bit of a wait on food, honey,” a waitress called to you.

“Just after a Coke.”

It seemed uncanny for a bar to be operational in the middle of an emergency, but it also befit a town so used to death. You took your can of Coke from the waitress, left a ten on the counter, and made your way around the tables to get to the noticeboard on the other side of the room.

Lost dogs. Swimming classes. Babysitters for hire. Then, your eyes landed on it.

1BR TRAILER. PARTLY FURNISHED. WATER/ELECTRICITY. NEEDS REPAIR. CHEAP. CALL: FOREST HILLS TRAILER PARK. 312-683-1192.

Maybe it had already been volunteered to home displaced people, but you trusted it was worth a shot. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?” you asked the waitress, walking to the bar and leaning on it. She nodded and dumped the old rotary phone in front of you.

After four rings, “Forest Hills,”

“Ah, hey. I saw your flyer. About the one-bedroom. Is that still available?”

The woman made a scoffing sound. “Apparently beggars can be choosers. Ain’t nothing wrong with that trailer but Red Cross said it ain’t fit for people. On account of the mold, they said.” Her voice was gravelly from a pack a day, but she didn’t sound unkind.

“I don’t mind mold,”

“Guess it’s available then.”

…

The bat had never known illness or injury. Whatever was killing the trees though, had touched him. He didn’t wither and die like other flora and fauna, but he wasn’t unscathed. It was as if he was burnt from the inside out, a mark on his feet spreading slowly but surely.

The sensation was unpleasant at first, but grew more noxious. His wings wouldn’t stretch their full span, and he could only glide small distances. The bat found a small patch of trees not yet turned to ash, settling in at the base of one, hiding under brush for warmth.

It was a fine place to die, if that should be his fate. He was where he belonged.

…

Forest Hills Trailer Park had been subdivided again and again; any spare patch of land was used for caravans and tents of people left homeless or those coming to watch the disaster unfold.

The one-bedroom trailer Michelle, manager of the park, gave you the keys to was indeed in need of repair. There were air vents that sat wide open, the outside cold seeping through. Dark mold grew in the corner of the bedroom’s ceiling. And the carpet should have been replaced years prior.

The very first thing you did once alone in your new home was ring a small bell you kept in your bag. Three shrill rings for good fortune. For everything else, you’d need supplies.

The local general stores would likely be low on stock, and the shopping mall had burnt down only a year ago. It stood in ruin, yet to be redeveloped. Before you ventured to the shops, you decided to take a short walk around Forest Hills and the surrounding land to see what could be foraged.

As you passed people, some looked you up and down, Satanic Panic clouding their perception of anyone they considered to be different from themselves, to be ‘other’ in any way. Some neighbours though, waved and offered a friendly greeting. “Michelle con you into that old trailer?” one asked, to which you politely faked a laugh.

Out beyond the trailers and RVs was a patch of land that seemed unaffected by everything happening in the town. The trees soundproofed the space, making it feel miles away from civilisation. While there wasn’t much in the way of edible mushrooms and plants, nor things needed for your craft, you sensed an undercurrent of magic there.

Crouching down, you picked up a golden leaf, twirling it between your fingers. Close, you thought, but didn’t know what it meant.

It was then you saw it out of the corner of your eyes. Something moved under the tree near you. Small. An animal. A rabbit, maybe? Rats or opossums or a trash-stealing raccoon?

Slowly, you sat down on the forest floor, cross-legged and facing the tree. You would wait until the animal revealed itself on its own terms.

The bat was so weak he could hardly move. He tried to hide away from the human that was watching him, but he couldn’t. When he resigned to his position, he let his vision focus on you.

You weren’t surprised to see the bat. The feeling was relief, like you’d found a missing thing. It was clear something was wrong with the creature though. “Do you need help?” you asked it.

Still slowly, you scooted closer to the bat. There were no obvious signs of injury. His brown fluffy body was free from blood or gore. Perhaps he had torn a wing or flown into a tree.

“I can help,” you whispered, holding a hand out flat to the ground. The tips of your fingers were close enough to the bat that he could bite if he wanted to, or he could shuffle forward into the softness of your hand.

Whatever compelled the bat to never leave Hawkins, compelled him to fall onto your palm.

“Hi,” you greeted, bringing your hand to your chest and holding the bat safely between your hands. “What’s happened?”

The bat was a common species; you recognised him as the aptly named big brown bat. His body was the size of a baseball, and some of his colouring was wrong. His legs and arms would normally be pink, but they were a sickly black colour. It looked like his brown fur was beginning to turn too.

“Did you eat something bad? Accidentally poison yourself?”

The bat, of course, did not answer your questions. You looked around the trees for other lost animals or any sign of something that may have caused your new friend to become sick. When there were no answers there either, you stood and took the both of you back to the trailer.

…

Destiny and a little folly may have led you to Forest Hills and the one-bedroom trailer, but you had come to Hawkins prepared nonetheless. In your car, there were supplies to ensure if you’d had to sleep there for a couple of nights, you could. The bat would benefit from your readiness.

The sleeping bag you’d packed was turned into a soft nest for him. “Alright, let’s get you warm,” you whispered, placing him in the middle. He shuffled on the spot for a few moments before settling, his brown eyes still watching you.

When you offered him a piece of banana, he nibbled at it.

When you gingerly stroked his fur, he let you.

Still, there was something about the way the bat watched you, something in his reaction to your movements. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was most definitely curious.

“Alright, my furry friend. We need provisions. Especially if there’s gonna be two of us.” You spoke to him as you pulled your jacket on and grabbed your bag. “Please be here when I get back. I promise I can help you.”

…

It was dark when you returned home. Stores were staying open late to receive interstate deliveries and provide goods to the in-need townspeople, so you managed to get most things on your list.

Inside the trailer was cold, the spring air outside not yet filtered with summer’s coming warmth. You checked on the bat, ensured he was still cosy in his nest. Then, you got to work.

After soap and scrubbing did its part and the mold was attacked with vinegar and bleach, you boarded up the vents and added repairing them properly to your to-do list. In the bedroom, the bed was covered in fresh linen while you dreamed of a brand new mattress.

The only other furniture in the so-called ‘partly furnished’ trailer was a couple of bar stools at the kitchen bench, a televisionless television stand, a couch in surprisingly good condition, and a coffee table that sat a little too low to the ground.

Next, you took a ritual learned from your sisters whilst in India and let milk and rice boil over on the stove for prosperity and abundance. From time spent in Lowcountry, you observed the practice of painting your porch blue. The trailer didn’t have a porch, but the doorframes would suffice. It would ward off evil spirits, as would the salt ring you ran around the home. Finally, mugwort and sweetgrass smudged through the space, cleansing and claiming it as your own.

By the time you were finished, it was almost midnight and your stomach growled obscenities. The bat had been nibbling on the fruit you’d offered, but you’d not eaten since the morning.

After two cups of noodles and a cup of white jasmine tea, you unpacked the small cat bed you’d purchased for the bat. You relocated him into it, still with the sleeping bag, and pushed it under your bed. He’d like it in the dark, you thought.

Skipping a shower, you changed into pajamas and got into bed. Sleep came quickly, perhaps quicker than it had in decades. You dreamt that night. Of darkness. Of blood. Of screaming. Nothing coherent, nothing recognisable. Just an ominous feeling that you were going to find what you were looking for, ready or not.

End Note: Reblogs and comments are so appreciated. Like I said, it will take a couple of chapters for you to fall in love, but I promise you will.

If you are interested in the witchcraft in the story, check out The Grimoire. It will be updated with each chapter!

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @amira0303 @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @stardustmunson @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire Eddie Munson

[docgold13]

Profiles in Villainy

Skeletor

Keldor had been the half brother of King Randor of Eternia. An acclaimed tactician and sorcerer, he lent his skills to protecting the wellbeing of Randor’s many subjects.  Nonetheless, Keldor harbored deep resentment toward his half brother and coveted his position as king.

Seeking enhanced power and magical knowledge, Keldor sought out the fiendish Hordak, ruler of the Evil Horde.  Hordak accepted Keldor as an apprentice and soon made him lieutenant of his forces.  At some point, Keldor was severely wounded.  Hordak healed him yet it resulted in Keldor’s face and head resembling a skinless skull.  With his augmented powers and ghoulish appearance, Keldor took on the new moniker of ‘Skeletor.’  

After Hordak fled to Etheria, Skelitor took over his former masters base of operations on Snake Mountain.  From there he raised an army to try to take over Eternia.  His efforts toward this end have been regularly thwarted by He-Man and his allies.  

Actor Alan Oppenheimer provided the voice for the villain.  Skeletor first appeared in the pilot episode of He-Man and The Masters of The universe, airing on September 5th, 1983.

#Profiles in Villainy #He-Man #Skeletor #He-Man and The Masters of The Universe #cut-out #paper art #Villains!

[steddieonmywaywardson]

Haunted

Here’s my first ever Stranger Things fic! It’s for @thefreakandthehair ‘s Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge and was inspired by @strangersteddierthings idea of a haunted Steve. Hope everyone enjoys! 

Steve is haunted. 

It all started back in 1983 with Barb’s death. 

He hasn’t used the pool since that fateful night. He’d glanced out of the window back then, when he’d been upstairs with Nancy, to see Barb sitting out there all alone. He remembers closing the curtains on her and not giving her a second thought.

 If only he had. 

Since his parents are never home these days, the pool has been sitting unused until the water has mostly evaporated. The tiles are cracked and there’s a layer of green scum sitting on the bottom of it. The ugly brown water stains around the sides look like weeping wounds. If his parents had taken the time to go out into the backyard and check on it, they would’ve had it fixed. 

Steve kind of likes the way it looks. Something even uglier happened to Barb there. He sees her at the pool all the time even though he never goes down there. He sees her face from the window. Smiling at her latest report card, shaking her head fondly at him, shyly trying not to stare at that kid from the school band she had a crush on, or teasing Nancy. All of those Barbs are down there and Steve thinks that’s where she’ll be forever. 

There’s no relief for him in the house. It’s haunted by a different type of memory entirely. Everywhere he goes he sees his parents. His father adjusting one of his silk ties in the mirror above the fireplace, his mother’s expensive heels clacking on the polished parquet flooring. He smells his Dad’s cologne in the bathroom, his Mom’s face cream in their bedroom. They’re here, they’re always here and yet they’re never here.

Chicago. New York. Paris. Italy. Japan. He loses track. 

People expect him to hate his parents. To resent how much they’ve been away. But he doesn’t. Not all of the ghosts are bad. No, there are different ghosts that float around the Harrington house. Sometimes a smell or a sound will bring them back. Sometimes unexpectedly. 

Dustin chews on a peppermint when Steve hosts Hellfire. It’s Christmas and Steve’s Dad is dressed in a full Santa outfit although the graying beard hangs loose. He’s giving a hearty ‘ho-ho-ho’ as he hands over a sackfull of toys while his grandmother’s candy cane cookies bake in the oven and his Mom hums her favorite Christmas Carols. 

Eleven’s party poppers to celebrate her birthday.  They’re his party poppers as his Mom arranges paper plates printed with dinosaurs on the massive dining room table. His father wobbles on a ladder as he hangs balloons and streamers. His grandfather picks him up so he can touch the ceiling and pretend he’s flying like Peter Pan. 

Sometimes, Steve haunts himself. When he applies for the job at Family Video or goes to the library to sneak a look at college brochures. He looks up and sees King Steve staring at him in his reflection. Sneering at him. Perfect King Steve in his preppy polo shirts and immaculately ironed chinos. Not a single hair out of place. Underneath those clothes Steve knows his body is perfect too. No scars or blemishes. He doesn’t have to hide in sweaters or layers. 

He looks away when King Steve starts to laugh at him. 

Steve grabs his jacket, suddenly unable to bear being in the house alone any longer. His ghosts try to follow him but he slams the front door on them all. He hurries down the path and out into the street. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of the thin jacket he strides down the streets. 

For a while, as usual, he feels safe. They can’t get to him here. Not Barb. Not his parents. Not even King Steve who only ever shows up, ironically, in reflections. 

Maybe the ghosts can’t get him. But the demon can. 

Because even in the darkened streets of Hawkins, he’s haunted. And it’s the worst of them all. He would take all of his ghosts combined forever if it could vanish the demon. 

Eddie Munson.

He’s everywhere. His voice. His image. The smell of his body odor as he’s forced to hide from the people who want him dead. He walks beside Steve, but this isn’t the carefree theatrical Eddie who stands on cafeteria tables. 

This Eddie is haunted too.

His Hellfire t-shirt is stained, saturated with the sickly reddish-brown of his spilt blood. Through the tears in his jeans, he can see open wounds. The demon smiles and a cut across his cheek splits open, fresh blood spilling over into his mouth. He grimaces and Steve can smell the acrid stench of vomit. 

Steve runs.

And runs.

 He doesn’t know where he’s going until he almost goes over the edge. He skids in the mud, realizing he’s standing atop the large hill that overlooks the Hawkins Salvage Yard. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest and his limbs feel shaky as he tries to level out his breathing. 

He’s not sure exactly how long he stays there. But it’s long enough that the sun starts to rise. It casts a soothing glow over the piles of discarded cars. The sky lights up with soft pinks and oranges. 

“Huh. I don’t think I knew this part of town existed. It’s beautiful.”

Steve turns around and he’s there. Not King Steve. Not the demon Eddie. The real one. He’s wrapped up in a leather jacket against the early morning breeze. He smiles at Steve and it’s just like the sunrise. It stretches the pink scar across his cheek. 

“Bad night?” Eddie continues as he stands beside Steve and admires the lit up salvage yard below them. 

“Something like that,” Steve answers. He doesn’t talk about the hauntings. Everyone he knows, Eddie included, has their own ghosts to deal with. 

“Yeah, I know about that,” is Eddie’s quiet reply. Steve feels a motion to his left, he looks down and Eddie’s hand is reaching out. He’s wearing all of his favorite silver rings and his black nail polish is chipped. 

Steve takes his hand and the two of them watch the sunrise together. 

#lexsspringfanworkschallenge steddie #steddie fic #steven harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #thomas writes

[corgiplays]

Thinking thoughts because I've seen so much Russian Robin content but I'm putting a switch on it

So short history lesson but Poland was under Russian rule soon after WW 2 and became a communist country and was freed after an election in 1990 so

- Polish Robin who was placed in a spy program after her parents caused issues for the government (more about this later)

- She was shipped off to Russia were she spend the rest of her teen years training

- She was there when Alexie was told he had a year to fix whatever went wrong with their attempt the first time

- Robin definitely tried escaping back to Poland a few times but ended up getting caught and faced serious repercussions (omg is that Enzo?)

- She is technically Steve's age but because when she came to America her english was like nonexistent she was held back a year

- She was in the states since 1983 in Alaska but after reports of the chemical leak in Hawkins she was sent there for the rest of 1984 till season 3 starts

- Buff Robin enough said

- She tries to convince Dustin that whatever he got on the recording wasn't Russian but after a long debate she gave in to help them because she thought they'll think it's from Russia but after Steve pointed out the Indiana Flyer ride Robin knew she was in deep shit

- Robin was forced to tell the commander what's happening and got the shit beat out of her for translating their code to Americans but she promised that she'll keep them away

- During the interrogation the commander makes a comment about Robin being Polish but Steve never noticed the comment, he also makes a remark how Alexie was a traitor and that she'll wish she could meet with him instead (aka she'll wish she was dead)

- Of course that doesn't happen as Steve and Robin are saved by Dustin and Erica but the Soviet Union isn't too happy with what happened, so they send a mission file to Robin stating that she has to stay and keep an eye out for anymore Upside Down activity

- No one knows what Robin's real motives are because she doesn't want to lose her only friends

- After season 4 when Hopper gets dropped off by Enzo, Robin is there and ends up cornering him with a gun pointed to his gut and forced to tell her everything he knows

- Vecna uses Robin's trauma against her and once she's saved she slips back into her survival mindset and starts to only speak Polish or Russian while lashing out if anyone got too close

- The gang does find out about Robin's affiliation with the Soviet Union and their horrified, some broken translation from when she went into her survival mindset and an attack by a Russian spy helped put the pieces together

- Everyone distances themselves from Robin because how can we trust her after this but El keeps in touch with her because she's still Robin

- Robin tries to sacrifice herself to save the party because they will never trust her again and see lost all of her friends because of this but thanks to El for being so nice Robin doesn't die

————

- Robin is littered with scars, her least favorite is the Soviet Union brand on her torso (on the left side under her ribs) along with multiple cuts, scrapes, bullet wounds and some scars done by herself (once everything is fixed Nancy kisses all of Robin's scars so she feels better about them)

- Robin loves the snow especially when it snows at night because she has her happiest memories then

- Absolutely amazing at making Polish foods and deserts and the whole party loves it too which makes Robin happy because she gets to share her culture with her favorite people

- Has awful nightmares and her and Hooper end up trading stories of their times in a Russian Prison because they know their not alone in their fear

- Dresses baggy and more masculine because of the scars and how much she hates her body for being exactly like the Russians wanted it for a spy

- Has a surprisingly difficult workout routine because of her spy training (Steve gave up after 5 sets of one exercise, Nancy sits on Robin's back while she does push ups)

- Has a surprisingly high alcohol tolerance

- Knife tricks

————

Completely forgot Poland was once communistic which is sad because I'm Polish but wooo

Honestly this came out of the blue but I like it

#robin buckley #slight #ronance #polish robin buckley #mmm the pain of robin being taken away from her family #Please Don't Leave Me AU

[thislovintime]

Peter Tork; Head (1968).

“’When I was a kid, before the Monkees, I was not primarily a rock and roller,’ said Tork during a 1998 interview. ‘I was primarily an acoustic folkie. For us, as acoustic folkies, the politics were very clear. We were strongly liberal, in the Pete Seeger mold. We certainly had a strong sense of right and wrong, and we certainly believed a lot that was wrong with society was the fault of the moneyed class. I think all of us to some extent believed ourselves to be socialists.’ […] It could not have been easy for someone who grew up listening to the Weavers and folk music to remain on the sidelines during such a fertile period in American politics as the late 1960s. Had Tork not strayed a second time from folk, perhaps he would have written a memorable protest song himself. But doing something like that was out of question while a member of the Monkees. Still, Tork tried at one point to break free from his ‘captors.’ ‘I thought that we had no business being in Vietnam, and I said so to the New York Times,’ Tork recalled. ‘I was asked (by Monkees’ management) to retract the statement. I called the Times and did that.’ It was, said Tork, a question of honor; he had signed a contract, and he would abide by its terms.” - We all want to change the world: Rock and politics from Elvis to Eminem (2003)

Peter Tork: “Well, they wouldn’t let us criticize the war in Vietnam.” Q: “Really?” PT: “Really.” Q: “Did you want to.” PT: “Yup. I actually did, to a New York Times reporter, and they made me, asked me very seriously, very strenuously, to call her and ask her to withhold that section of the interview. And I did, and she did, she was very kind about it. But it was… I look back on it and it seems kind of silly, but I think that the whole point of the project was: don’t make waves. Look like revolutionary, look like something new, but don’t make waves. On the other hand, in the experience of an awful lot of our audience, we were something new. So I can’t knock that.” Q: “Do you think you would have been more of an activist if you weren’t part of TV at the time?” PT: “I don’t know. I never did march, you know, I never did carry a sign. The only thing I ever did was a sit-down strike someplace. Not much. You know, I never really did get into activism, and I don’t know whether it’s just because I’m a flat-out coward or I have some deep understanding of the cosmic truth of the fact that it doesn’t do any good or whatever, in whatever case, that’s just — that’s what it is, I don’t do it much.” - NPR, June 1983

“When they shot them down at Kent State, that was the end of the flower-power era. That was it. You throw your flowers and rocks at us, man, and we'll just pull the guns on you. Essentially, the revolution, which was sort of tolerated as long as it wasn't a significant material threat, was not tolerated anymore. And everybody went 'Ooops' and scurried for cover and licked their wounds. They became isolated – which was the point of it all. 'Togetherness isn't going to get it' was the moral they tried to lay on us, because the less togetherness there is, the more room there is for exploitation. Kent State was an attempt. Let's try this and see what happens. And what happened was the shooting and vast inflation and a swing to the right – the moral majority. The whole thing was inherent in the situation. A certain amount of loosening up, a certain amount of extra leisure, and people are going to try to improve their lot instead of just barely hanging on. If you had a little extra you're going to try to make everything better. And if you see that your own happiness, or the lack of it, is tied in with the sadness of your neighbor, you're going to start feeling communal. And that's going to expand until the crunch comes. As long as people are educated to believe that isolated self-interest is the only way to go, when the crunch comes they'll withdraw from each other. And only now, in the faintest glimmerings, do I see any sense that people are realizing that togetherness and flower power alone won't get it. It's got to be togetherness, flower power, plus a willingness to do something pretty stern from time to time. If you're not willing to behave sternly, people who won't stop short of stern behavior are going to keep on going. It's taken a while for that message to sink in.” - Peter Tork, When The Music Mattered (1984)

#Peter Tork #The Monkees #Monkees #1968 #1960s #Tork quotes #60s Tork #<3 #<333 #'I thought that we had no business being in Vietnam and I said so' #'togetherness and flower power plus a willingness to do something pretty stern from time to time' #more for the solid Tork advice files #Head (1968) #love his mind #long read #When The Music Mattered #NPR Fresh Air (1983)

[notwiselybuttoowell]

In the past two years Glasgow has become the first UK museum to repatriate objects to India. Newcastle and the Horniman in south London followed an example set by Aberdeen and Cambridge by returning looted Benin bronzes to Nigeria. Exeter handed sacred regalia to the Siksika Nation in Canada. Oxford returned the remains of 18 indigenous people to Australia.

Earlier this month Manchester completed a landmark return of 174 objects to the to the Anindilyakwa community, who live on an archipelago in the Gulf of Carpentaria, off the northern coast of Australia.

The scale of repatriation – or rematriation as it was proudly labelled by a Scottish national museum returning a totem pole to Canada – is unprecedented but missing from all this, campaigners say, are the nation’s London-based national museums who look increasingly isolated.

“Regional museums are so far ahead of national institutions,” said Lewis McNaught, who runs the not-for-profit Returning Heritage project.

“It has been led by Glasgow and it really just remains for national collections to wake up to the trend which is, actually, now global. The UK is really falling behind quite dramatically.”

Dan Hicks, a professor of contemporary archaeology at Oxford University as well as curator at the city’s Pitt Rivers Museum, said repatriation has become part of the “fake culture wars” with some on the right seeing it as “wokery”.

“What that means, sadly, for our national institutions is that they are being forced into a position of inertia and making themselves increasingly irrelevant with every week that goes by and every restitution that we see from the regions and elsewhere around the world.

“Everyone else is getting on with it.”

The big reasons for the two different narratives is that the London-based national museums are hamstrung by legislation.

The British Museum Act 1963 specifically forbids the museum from disposing of its holdings. The National Heritage Act of 1983 prevents trustees of institutions, including the V&A, Science Museum and others, from deaccessioning objects unless they are duplicates or beyond repair.

Regional museums, whether they are run by local authorities, universities or are regimental museums or private, don’t have the same issue.

But the picture is more complicated, said Hicks, and repatriation is also not a new issue or debate.

“There is a deep and long history to restitution in this country. Edinburgh university was returning human remains two generations ago, never mind one generation … there are scores if not hundreds of stories over the past 40 to 50 years.

“It should be part of what museums do. It’s a part of the job.”

Glasgow is seen as a leader in the repatriation conversation since an agreement in 1998 to return a Sioux warrior shirt acquired at the end of the 19th century from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show.

The return of the Lakota Sacred Ghost Dance Shirt to the Wounded Knee Survivors’ Association established criteria that have been widely adopted in the museum sector.

Duncan Dornan, the head of museums and collections at Glasgow Life, said repatriation should be seen as a two way process and recalled the joy at the signing ceremony last year for the repatriation of artefacts to India.

“It was a very emotional event and Glaswegians of Indian heritage were very emotional. Their response was that they were very proud of their city.

“We see repatriation as establishing a relationship of equals and emphasising Glasgow as an outward-looking modern city.

“This is about a 21st-century relationship rather than a historic relationship.”

The recent Manchester Museum return of objects was seen as important because they were not giving back things that had been looted. They were everyday objects, including dolls made from shells, baskets and boomerangs.

“We believe this is the future of museums,” said Esme Ward, the director of Manchester Museum. “This is how we should be.”

Unesco hopes that Manchester will be a model for other museums to follow. Krista Pikkat, Unesco’s director for culture and emergencies, said: “It is a truly historic and moving moment. This is a case we have shared with our member states because we felt it was exemplary in many ways.”

The UK government has no plans to change the law that could then lead to movement in some of the most high-profile repatriation debates such as the Parthenon marbles and the Benin bronzes.

Campaigners say the UK is looking increasingly isolated and there is a growing movement for a change in the law.

Lord Vaizey, a former long-serving Conservative arts minister, has said the 1983 act “makes it almost impossible for UK museums to establish themselves as outward-looking, modern institutions fit for purpose in the 21st century”.

There are ways of getting around it. The V&A announced last year that it was returning the Head of Eros, a life-sized marble carving dating back to the 3rd century AD, to Turkey to be reattached to the famous Sidamara sarcophagus.

It made good a promise made by the British government in 1934 but the return is essentially a long-term loan, not an unconditional return.

Across the world, from the US to France to Germany and the Vatican, countries are repatriating objects. “Almost everywhere you look, items are being returned,” said McNaught.

In July, for example, the Netherlands repatriated nearly 500 looted objects to Sri Lanka and Indonesia.

The objects going to Sri Lanka include the famous and fabulous ruby-inlaid Cannon of Kandy dating from 1745, one of six objects from the Rijkmuseum that represented the very first return of colonial items from the museum’s collection.

The Vatican has also voiced willingness to return indigenous artefacts. “The seventh commandment comes to mind: If you steal something you have to give it back,” Pope Francis said in April.

The London-based national museums are undoubtedly hamstrung by law but that does not stop the regular calls for the return of objects.

Some cases are indisputable, say campaigners.

McNaught pointed to Ethiopian tabots that have been in the British Museum’s stores for more than 150 years.

The wood and stone tabots are altar tablets, considered by the Ethiopian Orthodox Church as the dwelling place of God on Earth and the representation of the Ark of the Covenant.

“They have never been exhibited and they never will,” said McNaught. “They have never been studied. They have never been photographed. The only people who can release these items are trustees and they can’t see them either.

“So if you are a trustee and you say, ‘Let me see what all the fuss is about,’ then you can’t.”

#excerpts #museums #repatriation

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: A good boy (issue 30)

Moon Knight, Issue #30: The Moonwraith, Three Sixes, and a Beast

(We've hit 1983 people!) 

PREVIOUSLY ON MOON KNIGHT! 

We get a title page that states: 

"WHAT HAS HAPPENED: 

   In the Omaha trainyards, Jack Russell - Cursed to become a werewolf under the influence of a full moon--Narrowly escapes capture by a satanic cult led by a man named Schuyler Belial. Belial-Who calls himself "Morning Star" --Orders his agents to follow Russell, last seen boarding an express train to New York. 

   A month passess. Moon Knight receives an urgent plea from Russell to meet him. Arriving at the rendezvous, a farmhouse in New Jersey, our hero learns that Russell has become the Werewolf again. He has also been found by Belial's cultists, who wound Moon Knight even as the Werewolf escapes them once more. 

    The following Morning, Moon Knight tracks Russell down and takes him home to Grant Mansion. He suspects that Belial has had a tracking device surgically implanted in Russel's skull, and examination by a doctor confirms his suspicions. It is too late to remove the device, however, because the Full Moon is about to rise again. 

    To control him during the night, Moon Knight straps Russell down. The Werewolf is stronger than expected, though, and breaks his bonds, then turns to face Marlene and Moon Knight with murder in his bestial eyes..." 

Welp, Moon Knight has a werewolf in his guest room. 

He tells Marlene to get the others to the basement while he figures out what to do about his friend. 

He tries to reason with the beast. 

He gets tossed out the window for his trouble. 

And now the beast is free. 

And in true Moon Knight fashion, he ends up on the ground in a crumpled heap. 

He’s doing great. 

The wolf dislikes the city in the rain. Seeking higher ground, he sits on a rooftop howling. 

Moon Knight finds him and sneaks up on him and sucker punches him in the face. 

The beast does not like this. 

Once more...

They hit the ground hard. 

"The water was hardly deep enough to cushion our fall, so we laid there until dawn." 

With dawn, Jack Russell is back. 

Passed out in the gutter next to Moon Knight, Belial's men find them. 

The men take them both just to be safe. 

It seems they finally have 'the beast of the apocalypse'. So all the followers of the good church of satan arrive out of LA. 

And Schuyler, Self proclaimed Morning Star, greets them all with a shackled Jack Russell and Moon Knight. 

It would seem Moon Knight is well known in these circles. (See Werewolf by Night for original context when we first met our beloved Moon Knight). 

While they are eager to see their foe destroyed, Schuyler has failed them enough times and all they see is "A kid and some geek dressed in a Moon Knight outfit--the kind you rent for halloween." 

Furthermore, Morning Star has decided that in order to further his power and beliefs, he needs to sacrifice the beast, convinced that the blood of the monster will transform him into a powerful supernatural being. He then intends to infect others until the apocalypse is unleashed. 

The congregation seems to think it might work so they head to the roof for preparations of the final day of the full moon. 

But first we have one of my ultimate favorite superhero gags. 

They want to know who hides behind the mask of Moon Knight. 

No one fucking knows who he is. 

If you REALLY think about it, Why would anyone outside of their direct circle of in people know who this guy is? Sure, Steven’s a millionaire, but he isn’t exactly Bruce Wayne about it. He’s just some rich guy that sometimes throws parties or attends business meetings. Jake Lockley is a cab driver in New York City. And Marc Spector doesn’t even really have an existence in present day America. And if you happen to know who Marc Spector is, the odds are that you probably don’t care about a secret Moon Knight identity and just want the man dead for the simple fact that he is Marc Spector. 

They move to return Moon Knight and Jack back to their cages. 

And unfortunately for them, Moon Knight wakes up before he gets there. 

He grabs Jack and makes a break for it. He calls for Frenchie and heads outside. 

(Moon Knight no.... Not in the chopper.) 

Up on the roof, the others are still getting their tour of the sacrificial altar when they're informed of the escape. 

He tells them to use the tracker implanted in Jack's head. They have to get to him before the moon rises. 

And then they look up and see the very unique and moon specific helicopter. 

Luckily they avoid getting blown out of the sky and head back to the mansion. 

Calling in the doctor, they manage to get the chip out. 

It's noon now and time is of the essence. 

In the meantime, Steven takes the chip and hides it in the mansion's game room. 

He changes to Moon Knight and waits. 

(Moon Knight no...not in the mansion)

And right on cue, we see the cultists heading back to the mansion. 

Jack is now recovering from his surgery and his rough night. Marlene helps him to...

"Help Marlene get him into Lockley's cab in the garage, but tell her to stay there. Not to move until she hears from me over the cab's radio through my cowl-mike." 

(Moon Knight no...not in the cab!) 

The trap is set and the cultists bust into the mansion. 

They wander into the game room only to find it empty with the homing device. Moon Knight springs his trap. 

Whalloping them on the head with a pool cue, he tells Marlene to beat it! 

(Moon Knight no…not in the diner.) 

Really Marlene? Did you need to bust through the garage door? Of course no one’s outside! These guys are idiots and only sent two dudes to pick up the werewolf! 

For the record, I fucking love Gena. 

"I still say he looks like an ordinary white boy to me." She closes her diner as they sneak Jack in. 

Next part of the plan? Marlene is going to hypnotize Jack. 

She asks Gena for her necklace with pendant. 

"Girl, this is a genuine pearl--not cultured, neither--so you just be real careful with it, hear?" (I love Gena) 

She tells him to see the pendant and think of the moon. 

He starts to change, fur growing in despite it only being 3. 

She stops the change. 

"This is just the moon in your imagination. Now, what does the full moon do to you?" 

"It...Changes me...Turns me into werewolf..." 

"That's right...It gives the werewolf life...and who is the werewolf?" 

"Me...I'm the werewolf..." 

"Then the Moon gives YOU life, doesn't it?" 

(And who's a good boy? That’s right! You are!) 

She directs his attention to Moon Knight, "the emissary of the moon. The spirit of the moon...The keeper of the moon's powers..." 

In essence, she's trying to get the werewolf to stop trying to kill Moon Knight. 

"Moon Knight is your friend." 

She returns the pearl to Gena, who is patiently waiting. Gena calls it Hoodoo as she checks her pearl over. 

Back at the cult, Morning Star gets a statick filld phone call saying that they got the beast despite Moon Knight's trouble. 

Who knew Frenchie could do a convincing American accent? 

Back at the diner, Jack enjoys a meal from Gena. 

"So, Moon Knight, you still making good bounties?" 

"I don't work for money anymore, Russell. Got enough to last me." 

"Just fighting crime out of the goodness of your heart?" 

"Something like that. How about you? Any closer to a cure?" 

"Nope...But at least the werewolf hasn't killed anyone innocent yet--and thank god he seems to prefer game flesh to....human." 

It's time for part two of the trap. 

Moon Knight dons a cultist robe and Jack plays dead. They head into the building and take Jack to the roof. 

Jack lays on the alter as the moon starts to rise and he starts to change. 

Just as Morning Star prepares to plunge his blade into the changing man, Moon Knight uses one of the stolen weapons to shoot the blade from his hands. 

"That's when Moon Knight blew his cover--at the last possible moment, no less-- by zapping the Silver Dagger out of Belial's hand. It had been some three inches from my heart." 

Moon Knight calls out to tell Russell it's time to act. 

The wolf springs up, unsure if it's acting because of Moon Knight or because of the cultists. 

"But I jumped into their ugly faces with relish nonetheless. After the chill of the stone altar on my back, I wanted to warm up fast--and did." 

The other cultists make the mistake of getting into a weird gun fight with Moon Knight, a man that knows his way around weapons. 

"I don't normally use guns of any kind--But then it's not every day that I have to save the world from the forces of Satan!" 

Only two of them? A werewolf and Moon Knight. Why shouldn’t these average middle aged men who chant all day be able to stop them? 

“Only two of us, all right…But WHAT A PAIR.” 

And then they bump into one another. Will the hypnosis have worked? 

“Nice Russell…Nice boy…” (He’s a good boy! Such a good boy!) 

It’s so nice to see them finally working together. 

And rip through their hated flesh he does. 

Belial makes a run for it and the wolf gives chase. 

It catches him easily. 

"He shrieked and gibbered, gaping at the beast of his own personal apocalypse. The sound only made my blood run hotter... And hotter still... Until I howled...and he screamed...And the hideous sounds became one." 

The wolf throws Morning Star off the roof. 

"Vengeance was mine, sayeth the werewolf...in a growl of supreme satisfaction." 

The other cultists open fire on the wolf and Moon Knight tells him to get out of there before he's hit. 

The Moon copter swoops in and drops the ladder. 

The cops have arrived below and are getting ready to storm the building. 

They just need to get the wolf out of there before more people show up. 

Moon Knight tells him to grab the ladder. 

"Grab it, Russell! Don't just stand there 'till they cut you down! Listen to me Russell...Grab it!!" 

"Finally, the werewolf felt a vague stir of recognition...A soft urging from a sweetly haunting voice deep within me. I clawed at the bottom ladder rung--ANd was swept off the roof, into the Moon-cursed night." 

Moon Knight yells to get Russell out of there as he continues to fight the cultists. 

Moon Knight dives off the roof and uses his cape to glide away. 

Blocks away, in the safe darkness of the city, the wolf drops to the streets and so does Moon Knight. 

"We faced each other for long moments, across the deserted street...I turned and sprinted lithely for the moon." 

Frenchie asks if Marc is going to give chase. 

"He's already gone, Frenchie-His future is in our hands now. And it's probably better this way. For a moment, I thought I might be able to keep him under control. 

...But Marlene's hypnotic spell can't last forever. ...And even though I hate to agree with Belial on ANY score...The werewolf is a beast. At least under the moon. And he simply craves his freedom too much to care about someone who kept hitting him over the head..." 

(LOL) 

"Moon Knight was wrong. Despite all our fights, the werewolf left with certain regret...Even if Moon Knight was also right about one thing... As a beast governed by no rules but my own, I was simply too stubborn about my freedom. 

I had to run through the deep night and see what the next shadow might hide. 

As for the trace of the human within me, it was all made easier by the fact that at least some people cared-And were maybe even praying I'd make it. 

So I howled, and within the howl there was a farewell to Moon Knight..Maybe forever." 

(I love the last page. It’s absolutely gorgeous.) 

And there we have it! Moon Knight and the Werewolf by Night! Together again! 

I love their dynamic! The former mercenary and bounty hunter, now a man out to protect people to make up for his monstrous deeds, and the man out to protect people from the monster he becomes. 

I also love how the story is told from Jack and the werewolf’s narrative. It gives voice to the wolf and lets you see it as a thinking feeling creature. I also love how the werewolf acknowledges Jack still inside him. Two separate but whole beings. 

A familiar struggle for control that Moon Knight readers have come to love. Perhaps this is why Moon Knight and the wolf do understand one another. Why Russell went looking for help from Moon Knight despite their sketchy past. 

After all, who else has dared to tangle with the beast SO-MANY-TIMES? 

If you are able, go read the OG comic that first introduces Moon Knight. The number of times they fight is comical. What Moon Knight went through just to capture him… At least you can’t call Moon Knight a quitter. 

And with that absolutely splendid final page, Bill Sienkiewicz bids his farewell to Moon Knight. 

At the end of this issue is also a "BULLPEN BULLETIN SPECIAL" which features an interview with Bill Sienkiewicz! 

Interviewer: Care to tell the fans how your name is pronounced?

Bill: Bill.

Interviewer: So it's going to be that kind of interview, eh? Okay, Mr. Sin-Keh'-vitch. 

[....]

Bill: After the story in issue #26, "Hit it", I was ready to move on. I felt that I'd climbed as high as I could with MK, for now. I knew I couldn't sustain it. I could talk for hours about it and the whole national problem of child abuse...And the art, how I was trying to express music, jazz, rhythm visually on paper... I felt it worked.

With this, our buddy Bill departs. Kevin Nowlan will be taking over for the next several issues. 

Thank you Bill for your work in helping to give Moon Knight his face and often shapeless cat like splats on the ground. 

Every special appearance of him in Moon Knight after is always a cherished treasure. 

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight comics #analyzing the comics #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Werewolf by Night #Jack Russell #I love them so much #Every time I see Moon Knight fight a werewolf it brings joy to my heart

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H - Viewguide, S2

Are you interested in the long-running anti-war situation tragicomedy M*A*S*H (1972-1983), but there are simply so many asterisks and so many episodes?

Well I can’t help you with the asterisks, but nor can I help myself: I started watching all 11 seasons of M*A*S*H, and bringing back for you my viewing selections, chosen for The Qualities.

— — —

I can tell I’ve really accessed the elder millennial (& elder) demographic with my M*A*S*H posting (doing...numbers? hullo!) by, above all, the 80% consistency rating of those reblogging it also adding tags. My people. We gotta find things later.

Season 2! Absolutely, get in here, loved this one: to bits. I did swing around the order again this time, primarily to pace the Hawkeye runs himself ragged episodes—too much of that at once might cause damage, nearly did me. I am kidding: I did not avoid this. Hi broken, I'm Dad!

M*A*S*H - Season 2 Recommended sequence

2x01 ‘Divided We Stand’ - A reintroduction to the 4077th in our second season together through the psychiatric officer sent to investigate whether they’ve all gone mad out there and should be broken up. Spoiler alert: of course, and of course not.

2x02 ‘5 O’Clock Charlie’ - Every day at 5 o’clock, a North Korean pilot flies overhead and tries* to bomb the nearby ammunition dump (*tries). Just chock-a-block with bits. Fun fact: Alda’s foppy infantry drag routine probably the moment I truly fell in love with him—“That’s about it.” This too would have made a wonderful season opener honestly, but we just get two!

2x04 ‘For the Good of the Outfit’ - And now we sit down with a thump: Hawkeye & Trapper try to get the American military to take responsibility for shelling a peaceful Korean village, and learn that the Army, surprise, has no whistleblower protection. No B-plot, we’re just doing THIS.

2x05 ‘Dr. Pierce and Mr. Hyde’ - In this hurt/comfort but we nearly forgot part of it fanfiction, Hawkeye Pierce stays awake doing surgery for…possibly 48 hours if I've calculated this right, but then after that another shift, and another…oh jesus. He stays awake for something like three days, all but spare minutes of it pulling bits of metal out of chest wounds, it breaks something in him, and then for the next night & day more he continues to sleeplessly wander the camp spooking and unnerving people like an irreverent broken ghost. This is probably the best episode I’ve seen yet. Every time you hear the sound of choppers, and he just looks up from the shadowed caverns of his eyes… HUGE ohh honey! episode, and also like, ..fuck. Fuucking fuck. “Dear Harry, Who’s responsible?” I could lovingly detail every single thing that happens in this, very up to and including the warm circumstances of the little closing scene, which I ache over.

2x09 ‘Dear Dad…Three’ - That’s WRITE, it’s another letter writing episode, with a number of differently toned scenes strung together with pretty impressive balance. A tense surgery, a goofy home video that accidentally makes everyone verklempt, a perfectly absurdist staff meeting, and meanwhile: The Gang Solves Racism! Well, corrects a racist. Involves ridiculous antics don’t even worry. Ginger has the funniest part and thank god.

2x10 ‘The Sniper’ - There’s a sniper. This is a situation where this episode is so well written and edited, just sterling 25 minute story construction, that I’ve deemed it too good to be sunk by its one too many sexual assault jokes. I mean kinda makes it even more of a peak early season M*A*S*H episode, if you think about it.

2x12 ‘The Incubator’ - One of my favorites of this season to be honest! An eventual sort of Milo Minderbinder riff on byzantine and corrupt Army supply chains, in which Trapper & Hawkeye wear their dress uniforms and at one point stand in as investigative journalists asking tough questions at a military press conference—hot.

2x13 'Deal Me Out' - A wonderfully pitched antics ep, especially memorable for the deep bank of recurring guest players: Sidney Freedman, Sam Pak, and even Colonel Flagg. I have since started playing poker and it is remarkable how many elements of this exact game have already occurred. Minus the surgery.

2x11 ‘Carry On, Hawkeye’ - A flu epidemic sweeps the camp, and if the sight of people wearing masks and looking worried isn’t moving enough for you In Our Current Era, the only folks left standing as the war casualties keep coming in—Hawkeye, Margaret, Radar, and Father Mulcahy—trauma bond about it. Exquisite. I adore this one. Also another for the annals of Hawkeye shouting down the line to a superior officer about finding a husband.

2x24 'A Smattering of Intelligence' - Honestly it's not about these slipshod spies: it's because Marlene Dietrich is back in town.

2x20 ‘As You Were’ - Love that when this started I was thinking eh it was probably not making my list. A whiplash episode par excellence. Hot Take! - I think this does the kind of thing ‘Sometimes You Hear the Bullet’ wants to do better than that one actually does.

2x22 ‘George’ - A scene or two into this one, Hawkeye comments in the mess tent that one of the kids they just sewed up was really bruised, and not in a combat way, like in a someone beat him way, and I idly muse, hey, in the version where we kick it up a notch: he was beat up for being gay, and comes out to Dr. Pierce because of course he comes out to Dr. Pierce, the kind chaotic bisexual energy is palpable even behind the surgical mask, and then self-identified Aunt Hawkeye has to figure out how to save him. I would have signed a statement giving up my blog in the event were this to actually come to pass, and done so laughing. But then in the year of our lord 1974, DO YOU KNOW WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED. Good thing my mouth was healing because I yelled.

Oh, and if you’re wondering if Benjamin ‘Homoerotics’ Pierce took this network-granted opportunity to come out as straight—

no.

2x21 ‘Crisis’ - They Were All So Cold, redux, variation: There Was Only One Tent. Not quite like that, although does include Hawkeye and Trap essentially sharing a bed and as many layers of Army surplus as they can scrounge while jibber-jabbering with Klinger as he puts on cold cream and Father Mulcahy does an impromptu stand-up bit in his Loyola sweatshirt, and for this and many reasons, this one about burst my heart in warm coziness. Easily the most endearing & domestic thing this show has done to me yet. I’m compromised. Haha fuck, I’m compromised!

Season 1 • Season 2 • To be continued

#M*A*S*H hours

#if pressed I actually could not tell you which is gayer #Hawkeye's mocking flounce of repulsion #or his exhausted thousand yard stare at Trapper #M*A*S*H #M*A*S*H hours #viewguides #Tarra watches

[pappydaddy]

steve pairing playlist for the-weeping-author

here you go lovely! this is different than the others in a way i can sense but not see, i think something possessed me while i made this so it very much feels like being on a facetime call with me and my squirrel brain, but i hope you like it lovely! @the-weeping-author 💛! thank you so much for all your support!

1. people you know - selena gomez

You and Steve have been friends for a long time. Best friends. You two were basically joined at the hip. Even with him being outgoing and more passive (to a point) while you are a bit more abrasive, never letting people off with their bullshit, you guys stuck together. However, suddenly that all changed. you weren’t really sure when or how it changed, but you do know Tommy H. and Carol were behind it. Then, once Steve started to sniff around Nancy Wheeler, you knew your friend was nothing but a distant memory. Someone you used to know. And sure, it hurts to lose a great friend suddenly, feeling like you were left with your head spinning in a crowded room where people just kept walking by you like you weren’t there, but what makes it worse was that you were in love with steve since you first met him when you moved in next door to him.

2. heather - conan gray

Steve and Nancy were officially dating. Fall of 1983. You were walking into school when you noticed how his eyes trailed her as she walked by in the hall - the small bashful smile she sent his way. The wink he sent her back that made a deep blush overcome her cheeks. You wanted to hate Nancy right then and there, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Another day, you had settled down outside under a tree, enjoying the nice fall day with some of your other friends, trying to keep your mind off Steve until you see him again in your shared science class next period. You see them walking back into the school, fast food drinks in their free hands, their other hands clasped together. And Steve's red sweater over her blouse. That same red sweater he would loan to you when you would get cold. 

3. you belong with me - taylor swift

It’s not best friends to lovers without this iconic best friends to lovers bop. One night, as you’re decorating for halloween, you notice Steve’s BMW pull into his driveway, the dark silhouettes of the couple sitting in it. Looking over, expecting them to get out and go into his place, you can tell they were fighting. It wasn't hard since the car was unable to muffle the sound of bickering - it was only able to make it harder for you to actually understand what they were yelling back and forth. What felt like two minutes of yelling, Steve threw the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway - tires squealing aggressively and the car taking off down the street, his foot heavy on the gas pedal.  You watched the car go, tearing down the street until you can’t see it anymore. Then you carry on decorating, your mind heavy as you remembered all the times you’ve been there for steve. all the times you guys made each other laugh when you guys were down. Then, you couldn’t help but realise how painfully clear it was that you guys were meant to be together. 

4. someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic

Okay, we’re going a bit au for this one where after Steve and Nancy have their little breakup, Steve knows nancy takes off with Jonathan meaning he knows there is no apologising so he never goes to the Wheelers and instead, Dustin comes to find him as a last resort meaning he finds steve at your place. Fall 1984. It had been over a year since you had last talked to steve. The wound had slowly started to close, but your lack of closure (and having the last word) was still hindering the healing process. You were at home, recovering from Tina's halloween party last night - you might have gotten a little carried away with the drinking games last night. You were sitting in your room, reading a magazine as you enjoyed the silence of being home alone when there was a sorrowful knock on the door. It was barely heard and that piqued your interest a little more. So, naturally, you had to go see who it was. The second you opened the door, you slammed it again once you saw Steve on the other side.  “Come on, please open the door.” Steve begged on the other side.  “Why should i steve? It’s not like you cared about talking to me for the past year.” You point out, but your feet stayed on the other side of the door, wanting to keep it closed and wanting to not let him in, but something made you stay. “Please. I-I just need to talk. I need somebody,” his voice nearly broke you. He was so sad and lost. with a sigh, you opened the door again, seeing him there. his brown eyes were dim, his shoulders slumped. He looked alone. and sad. but mostly alone. “Nancy and I broke up last night and she suddenly ran off with Jonathan Byers.”  Looking at him, seeing him shaking slightly from the unusually chilly fall day, you could see he just needed someone to stay in his life. Tommy H and Carol dumped him when he wouldn’t blindly follow them; his parents were never around and when they were, they were horrible to him; and now someone he thought he loved just dumped him and took off with another guy. Sighing, you open the door wider, stepping aside to let Steve in.  But before he could step into the house, Dustin emerges in such a panic you get roped into going with them, introducing you to the Upside Down.

5. umbrella - rihanna

Romantic tension. Romantic tension. Romantic tension!!! This spans from the events that take place from the moment you end up getting roped into going with Steve and Dustin till the end of the whole Upside Down round two ordeal.  Over the course of the first 24 hours, you and Steve had reconciled and reminded each other that you will always be there for each other, reminding you both of the promises you made when you were younger - even sealing it with a pinky promise with intense eye contact (you know the eye contact, that eye contact that will make me fold in .2 seconds).  Anyway, I visualise in my little pea brain that you get really scared when you see these demo dogs because you have no idea what the hell they are and you actually didn’t think they would show up. And Steve jumps out to fight this thing to protect you and the kids, you wouldn’t let him go alone so you’re out there with him because you guys took an oath and you’re sticking out till the end (which could have very well been that night since you both were literally putting your lives in immediate danger).  Then, you guys meet up with Nancy and Jonathan at the lab and you reach out to hold Steve’s hand in an effort to offer him comfort since his wound is still very much open from where she hurt him. AND THE EYE CONTACT! Lord, I am folding just thinking about it. You couldn’t cut this romantic tension with a freshly sharpened axe if you tried.  And, basically, this whole time, it’s basically just you and Steve placing yourselves into dangerous situations to protect one another while skirting around your feelings for each other. Basically, you both love each other, but Steve literally just got out of a relationship (like it’s 48 hours and all of this has happened) so you’re both too scared to admit to each other (and to yourselves).  And of course Billy shows up and you all know I am a slut for Steve defending his people when it comes to Billy. And of course, never one to back down, you get into the situation and end up laid out next to Steve making the kids haul both of you into the car. AND when Steve wakes up, you’re already kinda awake and HE SAYS YOUR NAME INSTEAD OF NANCY’S and then he realises that Mike is not you and he freaks the fuck out until he sees you crammed into the seat next to him.

6. a year without rain - selena gomez and the scene

Okay, now that all of that is all said and done, you guys are all back to living your lives with another war against interdimensional creatures behind you. You knew your life was hell without Steve, but now that he’s back as a constant and is the old Steve again (just more improved), you realise how bad it was. It was like living in the desert after a year without rain - torture. And now that he’s back, it’s like a flood of relief. 

7. take what you want - one ok rock feat. 5 seconds of summer

Even though Steve is back, it’s not 100% perfect and that’s okay. You guys need to learn to be friends again with how much you guys have grown in the year gap. Steve hadn’t realised how much had changed for you with your mom falling ill and stuff. So he’s there for you anyway he can. He’s helping you out and stuff. And on the flip side, you’re there for him helping him with his hurt from Nancy.  But, you guys are also trying to let each other know about your feelings discreetly, but also, in your mission to prove that you guys are there for each other, you are both becoming a little overbearing which sparks fights. And you guys almost have another friend break-up. You guys are just missing signals left, right, and centre. It’s a big mess and you guys have a big fight one night while it was pouring down rain in the spring. You end up telling him to go away with tears streaming down your face because it was all too much and you were too consumed with emotions and stress and you were tired of him not listening.  And Steve leaves. He does it because he once again wasn’t listening to the cues and the signals you were giving out. And you’re both hurt because Steve was trying to tell you things as well. He is also tired of you not catching his signs and he was still scared from Nancy telling him to get out. So you guys are just not hearing each other. 

8. i like me better - lauv 

A week after your blow up fight, you guys are both not talking, but THE LOOKS THROWN ACROSS ROOMS AND THE HALLWAY THAT YOU BOTH MISS! Ugh, one of my fav tropes! I love thinking about the little things that are missed. This is the part of the miscommunication trope that makes the frustrations worth it (the blow up fight, the longing, and those scenes that make butterflies go insane in your stomach). And it’s the middle of the night on a random day. You both can’t sleep. Moonlight is streaming into your windows and it’s a perfect parallel to one another (love parallels). And it hits both of you at the same time that you like yourselves better when you are with each other.  So Steve takes off out of the house at the same time you are taking off out of your house and you meet in the middle of your houses and confess this realisation to one another and you make up! But feelings are not confessed.  Buuuttttt- You guys both lunch for each other and you’re thrown into this heated, hot, steamy, PG-15 kiss that should be pay-per-view and hidden behind a parental lock. And you both end up in Steve’s bed for the rest of the night and well into the morning hours.

9. dress - taylor swift

The signals are still getting missed, but neither of you really care - too consumed with the thought of each other. It’s hot, it’s raunchy. It’s euphoric. You are now pulling out all the stops. Dresses that are only bought to be ripped off. The small touches, the burning looks across the room, the whispered words. You are working overtime to get these hints across that you don’t want to be just best friends or friends with benefits, but poor Stevie-boy is fairly dense in the talking stage (let’s be real here, he does not pick up on hints well). 

10. friends - chase atlantic

The signals are still not getting through. It’s been all spring and all summer - not even being trapped in the underground russian lab and kidnapped by russians could get you guys to confess your feelings. But, what did come from summer was the new found friendship between you two and Robin. And Robin is tired of hearing about your supposedly unrequited feelings. So she launches a plan. Since you are in the same year as Robin which means you are still in school, she enacts her little plan with the help of the abundance of teenage house parties and the unruliness of teen boys.  She draws it up all neatly by arranging for Steve to pick you guys up from the party at midnight. She insists that you need to look hot so she takes advantage of Steve working a night shift to help you get ready away from him. You keep trying on outfit after outfit until Robin finally deems one “hot enough that Steve will be drooling all over himself when he finally picks us up” as she put it.  Now, here comes the part of the plan that you were not informed off - the jealousy phase. Robin truly is a genius mastermind, because the way this plan is flawlessly executed, she times everything right. Around eleven, she managed to get you to drink enough that you are feeling good and confident and that she could convince you to carry on a conversation with guys but not tipsy enough that you are falling over yourself or confrontational. A little after that, she “accidentally” makes you stumble into someone. That someone being the captain of the football team. You end up striking up a conversation because Robin just so happened to reveal a common interest between you and him. And from there, one common interest turned into ten.  Then, soon enough, it’s midnight and you have no clue because you are having fun with your new friend. And Robin rushes out to the car, claiming to not know where you were - throwing Steve into a wild panic. He’s flinging his door open and rushing into the party, fully intent on finding you because he is imagining the worst case scenario. He’s asking Robin why she left you alone, fretting. His hand is continuously combing through his hair.  Then he sees you. And he is thrown into a jealous rage now. He’s asking you what you were doing with him and you’re sticking up for yourself, saying that he’s (football captain) just a friend and he (Steve) can’t be jealous because he’s not her boyfriend (something Robin had expertly planted in her ear a few hours prior). And he’s saying that you guys are definitely not just friends. 

11. i’m yours - isabel larosa

This is just such a hot song. I love this song so much. This is definitely you showing Steve you are his after Robin’s masterplan somewhat backfired on her (you and Steve ended up forgetting her at the party for this hot steamy moment to ensue). 

12. electric touch - taylor swift

This is your first actual date. It’s November, a winter chill is now in the air. You are sitting anxiously in your living room, waiting for Steve’s headlights to be spotted. He was coming to get you after his shift at Family Video. You guys are both super nervous even though you know you guys are fine. You’ve both been hurt and now you guys are slapping a heavy label on your relationship. Nerves are hanging above the both of you like clouds. You guys know that there are only two ways for this to go. It can either bring you guys back to life or wreck you horribly.  When you finally see his headlights approaching, you get up and start fussing. Checking your outfit, your hair, and your makeup. You’re shaking so much that your legs feel like they are going to give out on you, but you manage to make it to the door, waiting for Steve’s knock so you don’t appear too excited.  When the knock does sound on the door, scaring you slightly, you open it. The second your eyes meet Steve’s it’s like all the nerves and anxieties went away and a smile consumes both of your faces. Then, Steve extends his hand out for you to take and you reach out for him, fingers intertwining. And in that instant, you feared that all the power in Hawkins would go out because of the amount of electricity between the two of you - like a solar flare. Gone was the bitterness of the November weather because all you could feel was the warmth of Steve’s electric touch surrounding you, lighting up your heart. 

13. good old-fashioned lover boy - queen

Steve is a lover-boy. He is pulling out all the stops on your first date. Candle-lit picnic (he picked up fast food on his way to your place) at the quarry. He’s in his best sweater, he freshened up his cologne so he’s smelling nice and everytime he leans closer to you, you catch a whiff - hypnotising you slightly because he smells so good (you lovelies get it). He’s giving you the sweater off his back when you shiver. Let’s just say, you are completely under the spell of Steve “lover-boy” Harrington. 

14. red desert - 5 seconds of summer

Okay, so this is taking place in season 4, when the scenes that brought stancy (ugh) back. You are noticing this and you are getting paranoid because your boyfriend for like four months is suddenly (seemingly) sniffing around his ex-girlfriend who broke his heart again (this is the demons you guys are running from). And Steve notices your shift in behaviour so he reassures you (the: “blessing to feel your love” and “pack up all your bags and stay true to north - you’re the only one I’d do this for” parts). 

15. don’t blame me - taylor swift

This is when Steve decided to show up (for you) by diving into the lake. You’re a nervous wreck until he resurfaces and starts telling you about the gate. Then, he starts to get yanked under again and your heart is basically jumping out of your throat in fear. You are grabbing his arm and then he gets yanked fully under. As everyone is screaming, you’re screaming the loudest, but you also just automatically jump right in after him, causing everyone else to start freaking out even more because now there are two of you in the water with whatever took Steve. 

16. separate ways (worlds apart) - journey

I had to include this one because this is 100% my favourite song that they included in season 4. This is literally just spanning from when the song starts in the season to the final battle. It’s just you and Steve being badass as you once again save Hawkins. But, much like in the show, it’s more than just being badass. It’s representing the fact that you guys are not coming back from this the same and you all are battling the same thing on different levels and you all feel worlds apart. 

17. fast car - luke combs

Love this version because I love Luke Combs - still like the original tho. Anyway, this is after Vecna. You guys are seeing the devastation this encounter has caused, but you guys have also been changed. Steve gets back and sees his parents true colours even more and realises he deserves better. You guys are noticing that Hawkins is too small for you guys and you launch a plan to get out of town whenever you guys get a chance, but you guys are very much aware that even the best laid plans don’t always work out (don’t worry, you guys will stay together, we’re ignoring that part of the song). 

18. line without a hook - ricky montgomery

Prom. This is the whole ‘girl walking down the staircase in her dress and stuff and her date is at the bottom staring stunned at her’ scene. And this is when Steve truly understands that you are the one for him and he suddenly just apologised for the shit he had put you through before you guys got together because “I am nothing without you” (as he said).

19. all the girls you’ve loved before - taylor swift

This is kind of your version of 18. You tell him you forgive him because that was just a phase you guys needed to go through to bring you together in this way and you’re thankful for it as well as every girl that came before you - no matter how jealous you might be thinking about it. And you tell him you’re also thankful for all the times you were hurt by other partners because they shaped you into who he loves.

20. 18 - one direction

This is the song you Steve makes you guys dance to. At this point, you guys are old (this song came out in like 2014 and stranger things is set in the 80s so. But this shows you guys still love each other so much. You’re married and you have started your lives - however that looks, but you still love each other just as much (if not more) as you loved each other when you were 18. Whenever you’re sad or when you guys have had a fight, Steve puts this song on and forces you to dance, chasing anything bad away from the two of you. Even when you aren’t sad or fighting, he still turns this song on and dances with you to it.  

#steve harrington preferences #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington headcannon #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington playlist #steve harrigton blurb #steve harrington imagines #Spotify

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

PEAK AMERICAN HARDCORE PUNK -- SOME OF THE FASTEST MUSIC OF ITS DAY.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on previously unseen pics of speed-obsessed/proto-fastcore thrashers, DEEP WOUND, playing a gig somewhere in Vermont, c. 1983. 📸: Lisa Putignano (absolutely no love for bassist Scott Helland, though! Where's the bass player?!).

Westfield, Massachusetts hardcore punk.

Source: www.picuki.com/media/3323874383914070487.

#DEEP WOUND #DEEP WOUND 1983 #80s #80s hardcore punk #DEEP WOUND band #Proto-blastcore #American hardcore #American hardcore punk #Punk gigs #Punk photography #1980s #Vermont #J Mascis #Charlie Nakajima #Lou Barlow #Scott Helland #Punk rock #80s hardcore #American Style #Photography #80s punk #1983 #Hardcore punk #Proto-fastcore #USA #Sam Knee #asceneinbetween

[violettduchess]

Please please please continue the Gilbert fic. I need to see what happens next. I'll wait as long as I have to. It was insane!!

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian / Reader.

A/N: This is a continuation of events in THIS fic so if you haven't, check that out first! Gilbert is nudging me to make this a series. Who am I to deny the Prince of Obsidian?

Keywords: I can't really categorize this one. There's kissing and a moonlit garden and Gilbert and angst and spice!

Word count: 1983

Outside a black velvet sky is scattered with diamond stars, but even their shine can’t compete with what is happening inside the palace ballroom. Silks and velvets and satins and jewels. Hair ornaments, golden filigree, glasses filled with pale, bubbling liquids. You smell perfume and sweat in equal measure as you make your way along the periphery of the glittering crowd. You spy several of the Rhodolite princes. Leon deep in conversation with several nobles, his smile warm and open. Nokto handing a full glass of champagne to a tittering woman swathed in pink silk and pearls. Jin and his hungry eyes scanning the crowd, lips curved upwards in amusement, tossing a comment to Luke every now then as the red-headed prince nods, honey wine in hand. 

It’s beautiful and it’s bright and it is positively stifling. The discord of people’s voices blending with the music of the stringed orchestra hurts your ears. Your lungs breathe in air warm with other people’s exhalations. Sariel told you to be present, play your role as some distant noblewoman. But you can’t. You’ve never responded well to cages, even gilded ones like this one.

You slip away, one hand bunching up the dark red silk of your clothing, trembling with nervousness at escape and the anticipation of slipping into the dark. Your shoes click-clack as you flee down marble steps and then, as you step onto the dirt path that leads into the gardens, they make no sound at all.

Finally, peace.

Here there are no bright lights, no flashing of teeth and cacophonous laughter. No strangers approaching you for a dance or a drink or a whispered invitation to slip away.

Here there are only roses, so dark they look black in the argent moonlight, and tall, verdant bushes, and dirt paths to lead you further away from the ball and into blissful quiet.

After wandering a short while, you stop by a wrought-iron trellis wound through with roses, lush with fragrance, stems covered in thorns. Look but don’t touch, they seem to say, I am beautiful but I am dangerous.

“Not many people run from the light into the darkness, Häschen.”

That voice. It strikes your ears louder than a thousand screams, sends your heart into a swan dive that leaves you dizzy. How…..

You turn slowly until what you thought might be a dream materializes into the man standing on the path in front of you.

Several days have passed since your kiss in the library, that moment of surrender encircled by a raging storm. It has haunted every moment of your days and invaded your nights, setting up camp in your dreams and replaying itself over and over and over. You tried to avoid him, to remove yourself so far from his orbit that he couldn’t pull you in again. Not when to be around him was to dance on a blade’s edge. Not when Gilbert himself was the blade.

“You followed me.” It’s not a question. You know he did. And part of you, the deepest corner of your heart, the one that has relived that kiss with a desire so acute it burns, is glad he did.

“The garden at night is dark.” He moves closer, feline, his eye focused on you with an intensity that wraps itself around your spine, sparks singeing their way through your veins. He is a man made for moonlight and shadow. The silvery light touches his hair, shines the gold of his uniform, tenderly caresses his pale skin. “And dangerous.”

You have nowhere to go. Behind you is the trellis of thorns, beyond that inscrutable darkness. He is almost within reach now. Your skin is alight with anticipation. Currents of it flood you. Just a few more steps. You close your eyes.

He stops walking. “Open your eyes.” His voice is steel wrapped in velvet.

You do as he asks, a flurry of confusion erupting inside you. He’s watching you, head tilted slightly to one side. His breath is steady, even. He is controlling it. He wants you. There is no doubt about it. It is carved into every line of his body. But he is still.

“Say it.” 

Understanding comes in a flash. You were the one who broke the kiss in the library, who fled despite his calling for you. You pulled away from the grasping of his fingers and then spent your days and nights avoiding him, tormenting yourself with the memory of what happened and the fantasy of what could have been. Now, he won’t touch you, won’t come one step closer to you until you say, out loud, that you want this. That you want him. 

There is only one thing to say. The only words your body with its wild heartbeat and bloodfire can produce.

“Gilbert…..please….kiss me.”

His name from your lips would have been enough, but the plea and the command, tapered to points by want and need, break any control he has. He crashes into you, a dark wave slamming into the shore and you welcome the breaking. 

Your fingers curl around the metal of the trellis, thorns sinking their teeth into your skin. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters when Gilbert von Obsidian has his mouth on yours, taking and taking and taking. 

Air isn't necessary. You could live forever on the exchange of his breath and yours, on the warmth and heat of him. Never again will any taste be as good as him on your tongue. You will forever be starving for it.

The cultivated palace garden, so structured and tended to, is the moonlit backdrop to the force between you and Gilbert, something wild and uncivilized, running rampant and unchecked. His black-gloved fingers dig into your back, pulling you against him. You release your grip on the trellis to grab onto his shoulders, the stinging in your palms a mere grace note in the face of the roaring symphony filling your body. 

He lowers his head, tearing his mouth away from yours to move down your face, jaw, and neck, a starving man allowed access to a banquet, a man dying of thirst led to a river. One hand moves upwards, your hand in his hair, holding his head in place. The softness of it startles you. It is darkness and moonlight spun together, silken. And strong. Your grip on it tightens as he moves lower still, teeth biting at the neckline of your gown, his breath branding your skin.

You breathe his name, unable to force any more out than that. Words are impossible now. There is only Gilbert and his hands, gripping you tightly, holding you together because your muscles can’t. His mouth burning a trail across skin flush with desire. You are lambent in his arms, brighter than the moonlight or the stars, a celestial being burning even as you are consumed by a black hole with one crimson eye.

His fingers flex impatiently against you, gripping you harder as his mouth roams the skin available to him. You feel teeth bite into the sensitive slope between your neck and shoulder, unapologetic and hungry. He moves upwards again to your mouth, the low growl in the back of his throat signaling his frustration. 

There are entirely too many layers, too many laces and buttons and folds of fabric denying him access to more. He jerks his head back down, groaning, leaving your crushed lips behind as he goes back to grazing on the thin, sensitive skin of your collarbone, his hands raking at the lacing on the back of your clothing. 

He is not alone in his need. You find fistfuls of his jacket wherever your hands travel, desperate for more than just handfuls of cloth. Why is so much of him wrapped up, barred from your touch? Even his hands are still gloved. Desire and moonlight and need make you bold as you use his hair to tug him away from you. His lips curl upward, baring his teeth, his eye wide in shock and frustration. You hold his gaze a moment- the world holds its breath. And then you are in control, pulling him toward you, leaning upward and pressing your mouth to the skin just under his ear. 

In the space between breaths, he is shocked to stillness, frozen in place, a beautiful statue chiseled with longing. And then your teeth catch his earlobe; your breath forms his name. As Pygmalion’s desire turned marble into flesh and blood, Gilbert is brought back to life by your touch, the purr of your voice, softer than the night’s breeze. 

You cannot see it but his eye closes as you taste his skin, as your mouth runs the length of his throat, his heartbeat pulsing against your tongue. You hold him still, fingers gripping the nape of his neck as you pull sounds from his lips that sink into you, embedding themselves in your mind like stars in the sky, fixed constellations to bring you back to this moment, to him. 

And then you hear it. Your name, shouted from afar, crossing the darkness, leaping over foliage, slinking past roses to reach you. Sariel is calling you. That voice slices through the darkness, shocking both of you back to the reality of where you are and what was just happening. 

You break apart, both taking in air by the lungful. Gilbert’s eye is on you and what you see there stuns you. He isn’t concerned by the voice calling for you, the knowledge that you have been missed. He is staring at you with his garnet-colored eye, a flare burning with the starkness of need.

“Meet me here. The night after tomorrow. Midnight.” His voice is hushed yet commanding. 

You hear your name, the voice closer now. Fear coils itself around your stomach, inching slowly upward. You can’t get caught in the dark with Gilbert von Obsidian.

“I….I don’t know if I can.” Your gazes are locked together as tightly as your bodies were just a few moments ago.

He runs his tongue over his lips. You clench your teeth together to hold the craving for it at bay.

“I thought as Belle, you could do whatever you liked.” 

Your name is called again, closer still. But that isn’t what has drowned out the fire in your blood or stopped your heart's frantic drumming. It's fear that plunges you through the ice into black frigid water. Fear that sinks its fangs into your heart, poison seeping out like a bloodstain. 

He called you Belle. He knows. He knows. He knows.

Foliage rustles as Sariel approaches. Gilbert turns, one look over his shoulder, before capturing your gaze one last time.

“Be here.”

Before your lips can even part to reply, he is claimed by the shadows of the garden, the moon shielding its favorite son from prying eyes. A moment later, Sariel appears, his steps quick and concerned, breath escaping in a sigh when he spots you.

“There you are!” His violet eyes look you over clinically, taking measure. “What are you doing way out there?”

Somehow you find a smile, fix it carefully onto your face when you turn to face him.

“I came out for a breath of fresh air. I must have gotten turned around.”

His eyes narrow, disapproval hardening his features.

“The gardens are beautiful, but they can be dangerous. Especially at night. It’s easy to lose yourself out here.” He runs a hand over the golden knot buttons of his jacket. “We must go back.” He turns, motioning for you to follow.

Left with no other choice, you do, but not without one glance back at the iron trellis, dripping with roses, studded with thorns. Beautiful. Dangerous.

As you follow Sariel back toward the candlelight of the ball, you know one thing in all this is certain.

There is no going back.

*

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @rhodolitesrose @atelier-maroron @somekidnamedkai @alexxavicry @redheadkittys @queengiuliettafirstlady @gilbertvonobsidian

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince gilbert #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #gilbert x reader #angst #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #violettwrites

[yutopia-eleftheria]

Ryan Gray Backstory

My version of his backstory is a combination of both stories from Another Code R : A Journey Into Lost Memories, and it's remaster in Another Code Recollection, as his backstory is completely different from one game to another. So I decided to combine both backstories into one in my AU.

Decided to do that because in my AU/Headcanon, it's his birthday today ♥

Note : The writing is inspired by the official page from the Cing Wiki.

To see the original page, click here.

Full Name : Ryan Gray Fitzgerald

Race : Earthling (speculated)

Human (formerly)

Age : 27

12 (at "death" in 1992)

Gender : Male (Apogender)

Birthday : March 12th 1980

Zodiac Sign : Pisces

Blood Type : A-

Home : Lake Juliet, United States

Dislikes : Crying

Relatives : Judd Fitzgerald {Father} (deceased)

Unnamed Mother (deceased)

Occupation : J.C. Valley Employee

Affiliation : Ashley Mizuki Robbins (Sayoko & Richard's daughter)

Richard Robbins (Acquaintance / Now Colleague)

Sayoko Robbins ("Murder Victim")

Bill Edward (Former Coworker / Acquaintance)

Sofia Callaghan (Coworker / Acquaintance)

Rex Alfred (Superior / Acquaintance)

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"I think everyone has a grand design like that at one point or another. I suppose that's what they refer to as a dream. It's interesting to see how you think about the future. Your eyes may be your mother's. But on the inside, you're just like your father."

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Ryan Gray (born as Ryan Fitzgerald) is a major character in Another Code R : A Journey Into Lost Memories and its remake Another Code Recollection.

He is a scientist employed by J.C. Valley, and a scientific prodigy who has been working since his teenage years.

Background :

Ryan was a child of two scientists, his father being Judd Fitzgerald. His mother died when he was young boy, which emotionally broke him. It is explained that she saved Ryan from being hit by a vehicle, unfortunately she died doing so when he was three years old. This event occured around 1983. As said above, this left a deep emotional wound in his heart and he closed himself off, no longer allowing himself to feel happiness. He stopped speaking as well.

In 1992, Judd used the Another, which was still a prototype at the time to heal that wound. Judd wanted to erase Ryan's memory of his mother and her death. Plus, his son became the first test subject at the age of 12. Sayoko Robbins, Rex and Judd were there to see this experiment unfold. Sayoko was aware that the experiment was dangerous but Judd was obsessed with "bringing back his son". Richard Robbins and the other workers, except Bill Edward, whom Judd trusted blindly, and therefore told him about it, didn't know this because the experiment was conducted in total secrecy because of Judd's orders. Unfortunately for Ryan, he became paralyzed and later died (because the Another was incomplete). The experiment was a failure and Judd was emotionally hurt by this. Ryan's memories were extracted during that experiment. They were recorded through liquid memory and stored in a tank in the J.C. Valley's basement storage. After Ryan's death, his body was buried in an island and a gravestone was placed there. It is shown that he has the surname Fitzgerald on the gravestone. Ryan was then misled to believe that Judd was not his father, only his mentor.

Ryan was a child prodigy ; he attended university at the age of 10, and became scientist at 16. Ryan was recruited into J.C. Valley. He received a cherry blossom kaleidoscope as a gift from Sayoko when he was 9 around 1989 ; Sayoko's mother originally owned it.

At one point, Sayoko noticed that a "conscious life-form" was born from Ryan's memory data. A construct version of Ryan remembered that they had the feeling of swimming through a sea of memories and they read their memory, learned and slowly grew. Sayoko reported her findings but Judd quickly dismissed them. He states that self-propagation of memory data is impossible and he never tried to understand him unlike Ashley's mother. Once she left, he would glance at the tank every so often. One day, he started talking to it. He said "I'll find a way to revive you, Ryan". Judd continued developing the Another alone and he started a new experiment which involved overwriting memories using the Another. He began writing Ryan's memory data onto other subjects in an attempt to revive his son. Carrying out these experiments recquired him to create many copies of Ryan's data. He extracted his test subject's memories and accumulated them all into liquid memory. Judd's experiment was a failure since it wasn't possible to complete the Another without Sayoko. The ability to overwrite memory never came to fruition. He abandoned its development and sealed up the lab using the Another.

Six years prior, a "terrible" storm tore through Lake Juliet. J.C. Valley lost electricity and the building was destroyed. The tanks storing the liquid memory were damaged and they leaked into the lake. These are the ones that contained not only Ryan's memories but many others'. It became one with the water, so in a way it felt like that this lake had become their brain. Overtime, the construct of Ryan was able to access J.C. Valley's network, specifically in Judd's computer, this allowed them to access all sorts of informations, but nothing about Ryan's story itself.

At some point in time, Bill told Ryan the truth about his "death", his childhood memories being erased and of Judd's biological relationship to him. Enraged, Ryan then wanted revenge on Judd, and planned to use Bill as a tool to enact his revenge, pretending to ally with him. Ryan planned to kill all of Judd's successors, such as Sayoko, as his form of revenge. Ryan also orchestrated the funding disaster that befell M.J. Labs. It is also possible that Ryan had plans to murder his own father after.

In 2006, he sent Richard an anonymous e-mail, calling him a blissfully ignorant fool and claiming Sayoko's death was orchestrated and that there was more to it than he knows.

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Ryan first appears at the campsite, far from everyone at the back, and has a brief exchange with Ashley about her interests, why doesn't she want to be a scientist like her parents, what it's like to grow up with a scientist as a father, and memories of Sayoko. Once the conversation is over, Ashley briefly turns around and he disappears.

He is a trusting figure to Ashley Mizuki Robbins who enjoys having lunch with him. Unaware to her, he previously aided Sofia Callaghan in stealing Ashley's bag and can be seen briefly as the one driving the black car after Ashley gets off the bus.

Ryan appears at the Robbins cottage and tells Ashley she should not be friends with Matthew Crusoe due to the history between Crusoe Resort and J.C. Valley. He invites her to his cottage so they can discuss more about it. Matt, who overhears the conversation, comments that Ryan has a "cold" and "unfriendly" voice, although Ashley dismissed him as just being a calm scientist. Once Ashley arrived at his house, Ryan tells her more about the history. They talk more about Sayoko and how she helped Ryan when he was going though some "treatments". He also gives Ashley the kaleidoscope he received from Sayoko.

Once Ashley reaches J.C. Valley, Ryan is seen interacting with Sofia, revealing they have been working together on leaking information about the ANOTHER project. Ashley mentions Ryan to Ian and Gina, but none of them seem to know him despite supposedly being colleagues.

When Sofia is discovered and Richard confronts her, he sends Ashley to the exit through the elevator to ask for help. Ryan stops the elevator between floors and takes Ashley to the ANOTHER lab, which had been sealed off by Judd years ago.

Near the end of the game, it is revealed that Ryan is essentially the game's main villain. It will soon be discovered that Ryan is a cold-hearted manipulative lying sociopath. First, Ryan erases 17 years of Ashley's father's memories. When Ashley became visibly upset by crying, Ryan snaps at her to stop crying. He coerces Ashley into a memory overwrite experiment in which she will replace her memories with her mother's, but it fails when Ashley does not want to replace any of her important life memories, with the help of Sayoko's "ghost", who prevents this using the R.A.S.

Ashley awakes and find Ryan besides her. He first calls her Sayoko, thinking that the overwriting process has been successful, but Ashley corrects him and explains how Sayoko protected her and rejected her memories using the R.A.S., and that she doesn't want her daughter losing her memories to come back, causing Ryan to become frustrated.

Ryan reveals he intended to break a promise with Ashley and orders her to leave. When she becomes emotional again, Ryan taunts her but Ashley shouts at him she won't cry in front of someone who does not know how to feel and does not understand basic emotions. Ryan hears Ashley has her T.A.S. and claims he will use it to recover her father's memories, but Ashley refuses as he already betrayed her trust, prompting Ryan to hold her and Richard at gunpoint. The two are saved by Rex Alfred who tackles Ryan ; Rex ends up being shot in the shoulder before Ryan flees. Rex takes them to his office to reveal a series of things :

Judd had a son named Ryan, who passed away years ago. Judd used the Another prototype to try to erase Ryan's memories of his mother's fatal accident, which had traumatized him.

Judd erased Sayoko's memories with Rex's help when she decided to quit in order to focus on being a mother. Rex gave her the pendant with memories of the day Ashley was born.

J.C. Valley was responsible for the pollution of the lake. Years ago, there was a storm that badly damaged the labs. It broke tanks that contained mnemonic fluid and it filtered ro the lake, causing its contamination. Judd used Another through the security cameras to manipulate the residents of Lake Juliet so that they turned on Crusoe Resort and blamed them for the contamination, causing their bankruptcy.

Richard and Ashley give chase to Ryan on a small island in the middle of Lake Juliet. There, they discovered the source of the lake's water, and Ryan's grave. Upon being confronted, Ryan reveals he encouraged Bill to kill Sayoko and steal her research on Another back in 1994, and that he was the one who lured Richard to Lake Juliet. Ryan intended to manipulate Richard into completing Another, and then sell Another to a company Bill also dealt with. Ryan tries to kill himself by asking Richard to kill him and even passes Richard a gun and orders him to shoot, but Richard can not shoot Ryan as he is "not physically real".

Making Richard unconscious, Ryan explain how he was formed to Ashley, and to reveal that Sayoko knex about him. Ryan then reveals that the water from the island is cleansing the mnemotic fluid from the lake and that he and the other memories that were leaked to the lake during the storm will soon disappear. Ashley promises that he will be remembered and will be alive in people's hearts, much like she did with D. With peace and regret of mind, Ryan spended some time with the others as an act of repentance before he would eventually pass away.

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Personality :

Ryan is intelligent, but he is also essentially a sociopath, and perhaps a psychopath, who diminishes the value of human emotions. He is very bitter and resentful towards his father, and he mentions he has never really cared about Judd once in his entire life. He is also shown to be manipulative and able to hide his darker and very dangerous side, gaining the trust of people such as Richard and Rex, hiding behind a facade.

There is also a good amount of evidence suggesting Ryan is depressed, unable to find much hapiness or meaning in life, besides his work. He also appears to be quite lonesome with no evidence of any close friends. He lives in a modern-looking house with lots of gray walls and furniture. When Ashley asks him about his choice of interior decoration, he admits he does not care about any of it as he barely lives in it, showing he is far from being materialistic. However, this could also serve as a hint of Ryan not being attached to "earthly things" or the "human realm". Ashley remarks his house is eerily clean, but not in a "it has been cleaned" sense, rather a "it has not been used" sense. Ryan also appears to be a drinker as Ashley finds a bottle of wine in his kitchen. His house also lacks personal items, though it does have some abstract art and lots of science textbooks, as well as Sayoko's kaleidoscope.

Ryan can be somewhat condescending, although it is unclear if he is aware he comes off this way. For example, he makes some comments towards Ashley that can be interpreted as backhanded, as if he views Ashley poorly and a simpleton. When Ashley comments she is 16, Ryan explains to her, "Which means that thirteen years ago, you were three". He explains to her that flashbacks are sudden memories from one's past. He bluntly asks her if she has any traumatic childhood memories. When Ashley tells him she wants to be a musician, he attributes it to her young age, saying, "although it is rather unlikely to become reality, one is free to dream as one pleases". After a conversation about how brilliant Sayoko was, he says that while Ashley resembles her, she is just like her father. When Ashley asks what he means, all Ryan can initially say is a "hard worker", despite not asking Ashley about her work ethic. He later says, "He's the exact opposite of Sayoko and myself".

Ryan is smart and even manipulative since he was told the truth by Bill, and his vendetta against his father or Sayoko led him to the sociopath path that he is now, going as far as to orchestrate Sayoko's murder at a fairly young age. Ryan is not afraid of using others and even see them as tools (including Ashley), so he could finish the Another. Additionally, he had an existential crisis since he questioned his purpose and birth.

As a child, Ryan was seemingly a joyful person. However, he became emotionless, mute and closed himseld off after his mother's death.

Quotes :

"To this day, I have yet to meet someone that could even hope to surpass her." (regarding Sayoko)

"Honestly ? How can you say that ? I don't understand you, Ashley. I don't understand why you wouldn't be willing to turn your back on your father."

"Ashley...STOP CRYING ! NOW ! Don't make me repeat myself. i don't like seeing people cry. I believe that the emotions that trigger crying are unnecessary for humans. In fact, crying is more of a defense mechanism. Nothing more. When the weak believe they will be subject to emotional distress, they always resort to tears. They pour their stress into these eye secretions in an attempt to expel it from their own bodies. It is a defense mechanism, designed to protect people from their own feelings. And even if those emotions are misguided, these weak-hearted people justify them with tears. The foremost example is small children whining and crying. From this, it seems fair to conclude that tears are nothing more than a sign of weakness. And thus, I despise crying."

"Never. Not once in my entire life." (when Ashley asks if he has ever cried)

"This is unfathomable. You've rejected all of Sayoko's memories ? Ashley, I really thought that you were smarter than this. Hasn't it occured to you that the memories of your mother, a true genius, are more important than your trifling, pathetic recollections ?"

"That promise was made to be broken, Ashley."

"Ashley, I have no more use for you. Leave. Oh, are you going to cry again ? I wonder which emotion will overwhelm your heart this time. Sorrow ? Anger ? Regret ?"

"A drive for knowledge. I have always felt that, too. Why was I born ? What is my purpose ?"

"I've never encountered someone like you. Someone who wished to know me."

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Trivia :

Ryan's theme can be considered to be Spring of Memories due to it often playing whenever he appears.

Ryan can be viewed as Ashley's foil ; both have scientist parents and their fathers distanced themselves from their lives and fabricated lies. Their mothers died trying to protect them when they were only three years old. Ashley was said to be a crybaby after Sayoko died, while Ryan was severely affected when his mother died. They have also been quite lonely for most of their lives. Their hairstyles are also somewhat similar. The difference between Ashley and Ryan, however, is that Ashley learned how to forgive her father while Ryan sought vengeance.

Although not explicitly said, it can be speculated that Ryan's lack of emotions and sociopathic tendencies are the side effect of the experiment on the prototype Another. The formula affected Ryan's brain in order to make him forget, so it may have affected the region regulating emotions as well. If this theory is true, then Ryan could be viewed as a victim of a tragic upbringing due to matters outside his control, just like Ashley was.

It can be speculated that Ryan may have been the one who burned down Judd's villa recently, given Ryan' resentment of Judd, though the true cause of the fire is never revealed.

I will eventually do some headcanons about him later on, and what happens after the story of Another Code R : A Journey Into Lost Memories / Another Code Recollection. ☻

#another code #another code r a journey into lost memories #another code recollection #ryan gray #another code ryan gray #au #alternate universe #procreate #digital art #artists on tumblr #artist unity

[unhclywater]

CHARACTERS: Mikala Seabrooke, various NPCs.

THEMES: Mikala's experiences in the military and all of the extremely undiagnosed PTSD we (A.K.A. he) doesn't talk about as a result of his time serving.

CONTENT WARNINGS: War, injury, near death experience, death, gore, guns, slightly sexually suggestive themes, etc.

This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean; And there's me, in my slouch hat, with my SLR and greens. God help me, I was only nineteen.

1983. Freshly eighteen and out of high school with the world as his oyster.  He throws it all away, much to the pleading of his lonesome mother.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mikala?" As a frail hand smooths out the shoulders of his brand new uniform, as if trying to make it—him—pristine.  Just behind him, his brothers sit in urns on the fireplace, displayed neatly with their respective medals.

"It's too late now, makuahine," he murmurs back, with a tender smile towards his mother.  A smile untouched by death, cruelty, time.  The tears in her eyes are ignored.

And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep? And night time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16? And what's this rash that comes and goes? Can you tell me what it means? God help me, I was only nineteen.

1984. The floor of the forest is hot, it's too goddamn hot, yet he feels cold all over.  The type of chill that digs deep into your bones.  He's fading in and out of consciousness as the medic does their damnedest to put him back together again.

The blast of an M16 rifle is a brutal one.  There is no entrance or exit wound, only a smashed and dented armor plate tossed to the side.  His ribs are broken, badly enough that they've penetrated and ruptured his spleen.  His lung is missed by mere centimeters.  He supposes he's lucky.

"Stick with me, man," he thinks he hears.  It makes him angry.  He's goddamn angry at this person saving his life.  He's angrier at the pain he's in, the sharp cry he lets out when his torso is splayed the fuck apart with a scalpel, and he thinks vomit and blood comes up with the pained noise.

His head is tilted sideways by the soldier at his side so he doesn't fucking choke on it.  He supposes he's lucky.

A four-week operation when each step can mean your last one on two legs; It was a war within yourself. But you wouldn't let your mates down 'til they had you dusted off, So you closed your eyes and thought about somethin' else.

1985.  Back in the game after a forced sabbatical of sorts, only without a spleen, which he learned back in '84 that you can live without one of those.  He had asked what that meant for him long-term and, as it turns out, not much.  Except, he gets sick a lot easier lately because his immune system is compromised now, and he's informed to keep an eye on his iron for worry of anemia.

Gunfire and calamity have ceased, if only for now, but he's so far removed from it and his companions currently.  Soon, his superiors will look for him.  For now, he is staring at the growing puddle of blood beneath him and his victim.

They're deceased by now.  He's learned that the human body has its limits but, by God, it takes quite some time to get there.  He has what he wanted, more than that, and now he will set the scene to his liking.  Like he was never there.

All is forgiven when he delivers pertinent information to his superiors the day after.  When he closes his eyes and lets his mind drift to fresh memories of his acts, tainted by viscera and malice, he sleeps better than he has in months.

And then someone yelled out "Contact, front!" and the bloke behind me swore; We hooked in there for hours, then a God-almighty roar. Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon; God help me, he was going home in June.

1988.  He's laughing.  He's fucking laughing, and it's earnest, and it's tender.  He has his shirt lifted up, exposing the scar along his abdomen to his battle buddy.  When a finger trails down it, the muscles beneath ripple and tense, and he swears to no deity in particular that it sets his skin alight.

Eyes lock for a lengthy amount of time.  There's a darkness in his own, and a kindness in the other's.  A man of his age, both having served for the same amount of time, and yet only he is tainted by it all; driven by bloodlust.

Lips meet.  Lips, and tongue, and teeth.  In the shelter of darkness, they may touch.  They may be themselves, unapologetically and wholeheartedly.

By the end of this carnal meeting between two lonely men, his hands are trembling as he laces his boots.

A week afterwards, he watches his battle buddy misstep.  He watches the mist of blood, and guts, and limbs, with a void in his eyes.  Why are there so many fucking limbs?

He doesn't look away because he isn't weak.  He isn't a fucking coward, unlike many of the shell-shocked men around him.  Another week passes, and he sends a letter to the man's family, apologizing for their loss.

And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears; And stories that my father told me never seemed quite real. I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel. God help me, I was only nineteen.

1989.  It's the beginning of spring and while he doesn't celebrate his birthday, it's around the corner, and his mother made damn sure that a letter and a gift would get to him in time.  It came early.

Beneath her letter, one from his father.  His estranged father who never cared before.  In this letter, there are details of this stranger's own stories in the military.  Something heartfelt about regret, and being proud of his son, and whatever else that he feels nothing while reading.

Just before he writes a 'thank you' note to his mother, cold and curt, he tosses the letter his father sent into the nearest garbage bin.

When he comes back home to New York City, he's arrested within the month.  He doesn't fight for man's freedom this time but rather, his own.

And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep? And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet? And what's this rash that comes and goes? Can you tell me what it means? God help me, I was only nineteen.

2021.  Just as retirement came, so did the latest and greatest illness to take over his body.  He has spent the last week reading, mostly, alongside tying up loose ends with his business.

The funeral home has been sold by now.  Dead and gone, as are many things in his life.  He's neither excited nor sad about it.  He feels little of anything, really, about what is merely an end.  Except, his hands are a little more idle and, in his attempts to hide how ill he is from a spider bite of all things, he focuses on the finishing details of closing out this chapter.

It's all stacks of books, and paperwork, and why is the television so damn loud? He snatches the remote and clicks it off as the news channel drones on and on about the newest tragedy.  The newest war.

It looks like annoyance, and it is, mostly.  Even in solitude, he doesn't show weakness.  Instead, he continues oscillating between working and reading in silence, until his headache becomes too much and the itch where the bite is gets on his last nerves.

Eventually, this and the growing nausea put him down for a nap until his husband gets home.  Then, he will continue to act as if all is well, all is normal.  Stoic to a fault, he always is.

#〈 🩸 — ; isms. 〉 #do u ever listen to songs abt war on repeat for multiple hours and then a self para happens #the format of this got a lil fucked b/c tumblr sucks but w/e

[valiha]

Every once in a while I come across the Sniper Alley website, and my heart breaks every time. This was our reality for an eternity, it felt like. I will never recover; the wounds are too deep, covered by only a thin veneer of, I'm ok now and, it is over and, we are safe.

#war