#Vietnam War Service Dogs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

qwimblenorrisstan · 1 month ago

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Stagnant Growth | Alex Mason x Reader

Summary: After encountering Alex at your low income job at Burger Town, you begin babysitting his son, David, though your relationship with Alex quickly spirals out of control.

Word Count: ~9.1k

Warnings: SMUT, handjob, fingering, reader is mostly gender neutral (leans toward fem but not outright), fighting, minor character death, Alex’s wife is already dead in this, mentions of divorce, burn injury, nightmare, PTSD, gun violence almost, David being an evil cunt

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: real ones get the sloppy bubby Referance… (4 people max), this has been rotting in my docs for over a month before I finally picked it up again, originally inspired by a request from @leavemealoneplsandthx , but I abandoned it then adopted it so if it feels like a train wreck that’s why, hope y’all enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Another day, another burger.

It seemed to be Woods’ normal, or at least Mason assumed it was. They hadn’t been called out on a mission in a while, not that it mattered much to Alex. He’d made a promise to the mother of his child, that he wouldn’t leave them.

Well, it was more of a promise that he wouldn’t leave his child now. He’d done his service to the military, came home, and he deserved this time to himself, to heal, let sleeping dogs lie.

Or at least that’s what everyone else said. He found it hard to believe, that he didn’t have a massive shadow hanging over his shoulder, a looming friend whispering in his ear about how much more he could be doing, and what he could do to serve his country.

Serving was what he was good at, so why was it so hard to serve his family?

He had a routine now. Take his pills, take care of David, do some work around the house, feed them, and sleep if he was lucky. Some days Woods would come around, invite him out to the usual shitty, greasy restaurant with burgers for prices that hadn’t been updated since the Vietnam War.

Not that he was one to decline. He’d take any company these days that wasn’t a screaming toddler or a familiar Russian lingering in shadowy corners of his peripheral vision.

“You still with me?”

Woods elbowed him loosely in the side as he snapped back to reality, and the pretty thing standing in front of their table, wearing the tacky, stained yellow and red apron of the employees here. He didn’t think he wanted to know what the stains were from.

You weren’t doe-eyed, not like the usual young girls that came here looking for money to get through school, the ones that got picked up by the wrong crowd, older men, the men with their stuffed wallets and shiny beer bottles waiting in their refrigerators at home.

Still, they couldn’t be paying you enough to work here, with the rowdy crowd it attracted. He wondered if he and Woods were counted in with that.

The name of the order he’d given hundreds of times before left his mind as soon as he needed to say it.

“Just…a burger.”

Frank turned and gave him a look with something in between ‘what-the-fuck’ and ‘get-it-together’. You blinked once, glancing down at your little notepad with loosely scribbled orders on it, then raised a brow.

“What kind of burger?”

All this restaurant served was burgers. It was like going to a jewelry store and asking for a necklace with no other specifications.

The older man at the table, with a dark beard and hair, and a few tattoos on his arm that you could just see poking out from his sleeve, shook his head for a moment with a sound between a scoff and a light chuckle, before waving his hand.

“Sloppy Bubby and a Coke for him.”

It was scribbled down on the notepad, and you watched for a moment as he pulled a cigarette out, not even from a box, just a loose cigarette in his pocket and lit it with a lighter, mumbling something to the other man.

The other man had more than a bit of scruff on his face, almost like a sad looking beard but not quite. His hair looked combed back, being a dark brown. He wore a dark grey jacket, the kind that looks waterproof and crinkles a lot, and a pair of dark black cargo pants, the pockets full.

They were both muscular, probably in their early 30’s. The rowdier one kept chatting, while the other listened quietly, mildly resembling that of a sad, wet cat with his sullen expression.

Walking back to the kitchen, you ripped the order off the notepad and stuck it on the little window, shouting to the main cook, Jimmy.

“A Sloppy and a Special with two Cokes, Jim!”

There wasn’t much point to having the notepad on slow days like these, but it was just “required by management” to do so.

Not there was any management here, just an old boss who didn’t know how to stay home, hadn’t married early enough, and was too old to have kids. He usually sat in the spot on the corner, sipping at a beer till the waterworks started.

You've heard his life story about five times now. Father who didn’t know how to keep his hands off younger pretty ladies. Mother that relied too hard on her ‘special pills’ to care for her children. He was a high school dropout, got picked up by the old man who’d been running this place, and worked until he climbed up the ranks.

He wasn’t here today. You didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He kept you on your toes, but also scared off all the handsy men and broke up fights.

“We’re outta Coke, just got Dew and whiskey!”

Jimmy shouted back. He was decent, just an awkward teenage boy with a face full of angry pimples and acne, working here to support his mom. He could afford a few more showers, though.

You heaved a sigh, walking back out to the tables, intending to go ask the two men what else they wanted. Usually the shipment of Coke had already arrived by this time in th week.

The little bell on the door jingled as a man walked in, burly, reeking of alcohol even from here, with greasy black hair and disheveled clothes. Trouble. The drunk men were usually easy to deal with, just send them on their way or get Jimmy if you really had to.

Not this one.

He stumbled over, hazy eyes roaming up and down you and lingering in ways that made you feel violated even if he hadn’t technically done anything.

Swallowing thickly, you took a breath and moved over to the table with the two men. They seemed to notice the sudden tension.

Men had two reactions, usually, when they noticed something bad happening or about to happen.

The most common thing you saw was when they’d suddenly notice the little cracks in the walls, the squeaking of mice you could never seem to find, cobwebs lingering in corners that hadn’t been dusted, anything but what was in front of them.

The other, one you hardly saw, was when they decided to intervene. Usually for themselves, just because they wanted to land a date with you or look tough in front of their friends. Very rarely because they really cared.

These men seemed the second. Their conversation stopped, eyes going to the drunken man. Even the loud one went quiet for a minute, he and the other man shared a glance that said a thousand things without words being needed.

“Hey, sweetie, care for a special man?”

The words rolled off his swollen tongue, a stupid, disgusting grin on his face as he seemed all too proud of himself for nothing in particular. His stumbling steps grew closer as he almost tripped on his own feet, falling partly into the two men’s table. The rickety thing didn’t collapse in on itself, somehow, but one of the men spoke up. The one with the sad-looking beard.

”Go home. You’re drunk.”

”Fuck off, you’re just pissy she doesn’t want a little bitch like you—“

He’d yelled between hiccups, the increasing volume making you slowly back away, intending to retreat to the kitchen until he was gone or dealt with when he suddenly wrapped a hand around your arm and yanked you over to him. For a brief second, he held you against his side, arm moving to hold around your waist as the noxious fumes of vodka, whiskey, and body odor invaded your nose.

Disgust and anger looked to be the main emotion between the two at the table, one standing, followed by the other as one moved fast, too fast for the intoxicated man to keep up.

The impact of the fist sent the drunk man flying to the floor, blood dripping steadily from his nose. Hell, his nose might’ve been broken. A loud ‘oomph’ sounded as he collided with the dirty tiles, before trying to kick out against one, unable to get to his feet.

“Leave it, Woods.”

One spoke. ‘Woods’ didn’t seem keen on listening, practically crawling on top of the bastard just to lay on him, blow after blow.

You’d have to mop after this.

Plates clattered as Jimmy walked out of the kitchen, his brown eyes widening at the mess in front of him. He looked up at you, then down at the men on the floor.

“I’ll—uh—get the mop.”

And just like that he was gone. Leaving you alone to handle one unconscious bloody man and two riled-up men.

“Fucker had it coming,”

Woods said, finally getting up off the man, grabbing his unconscious body, and hoisting it over his shoulder. He gestured to the door with his head, already walking.

“I’ll take out the trash. Help clean up, yeah Mason?”

‘Mason’ tried to protest but was silenced by the little ring of the door, then the sound of it shutting. He sighed, turning to you and looking at the bloody mess on the floor, then up at you.

“Guess I’m on cleanup.”

He muttered, walking over to a little area with condiments and napkins, grabbing a handful of them, and tossing them on the dirtied floor area.

“We have a mop.”

You said, watching as he tried to clean blood from tiles with the stereotypical thin brown restaurant napkins, more than a bit of judgment in your tone.

He glanced up, raising both brows in a sarcastically shocked expression.

“Oh, really?” His expression went back to being slightly annoyed and mostly blank, as he spoke again.

“Well, I’m not exactly seeing a mop.”

Jimmy didn’t even know where the mop was. He always swept and you mopped, that had always been how the both of you worked together.

“Don’t get pissy with me because your friend made a mess, Mason.”

His gaze snapped back up at you, and he opened his mouth to say something, before stopping and deciding against it. He visibly paused, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath, before opening them and speaking calmer.

“It’s Alex. And I’m sorry if I seem rude, but I’ve been up all night because my kid wouldn’t stop screaming.”

You raised a brow. The signs of exhaustion were there, eyebags, being unshaven, clothes wrinkled. He seemed worn, near the end of his rope. You could use another job.

“Mom couldn’t get them down?”

You asked, cocking your head just a bit to the side in what looked like innocent curiosity.

He tensed a bit, brows furrowing before sighing. A sensitive subject for him.

“She’s not in the picture.”

Things were starting to make more sense. A single dad, probably military, too, based on his friend’s Vietnam tattoos you’d seen. The Mac-V-Sog one. Or the use of their last names.

So a single dad, mother not in the picture, maybe dead based on his reaction, and a war veteran, too. He could only be so close to snapping.

“I could watch them, you know. Your kid. Babysit for some extra change.”

It was a risk, but food was getting more expensive and there wasn’t much other option you could find. With no formal education other than a high school diploma from years ago, no one else would hire you.

But you could watch a kid. Get enough money for rent and groceries.

He glanced up at you, looking you up and down with a strange look in his eye, not the same lust the drunk man had owned, and there was a stretch of silence. His movement against the tiles paused, not that it had been doing much anyway to clean the blood.

“I live in the mountains.”

The Alaskan mountains at that. Your rickety old car would be lucky to even make it halfway up the trails there. But you were almost desperate enough to try it.

“I can drive.”

He seemed to highly doubt that but didn’t say anything further on the matter. Instead, he reached and grabbed your notepad and pen, both hanging loosely from a string on your apron they’d been clipped to, and scribbled something down on the paper.

He tore the page out, handing it to you.

His address.

“You’ll be able to make it tomorrow?”

You didn’t have much planned tomorrow. It could work.

“If you’ll pay me, then sure.”

He didn’t strike you as the type of man to be free with his money. More of a frugal type of person, always skirting the edges to save a penny.

“8 a day.”

You weren’t taking that. He rose from the floor, tossing some of the napkins he’d balled up into a trash can nearby.

“10.”

You challenged.

“8.50,”

“9.50.”

“Fine.”

“10.”

A moment of silence, something like an almost amused disbelied on his face, before he shook his head with a sigh.

“You’re trouble. Fine, 10. Don’t expect any higher.”

You smiled to yourself.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He hadn’t said an exact time.

Showing up in the morning might make you look overeager, and showing up late in the afternoon might make you look not the right fit for the job. You figured noon was the Switzerland of it, the neutral ground.

You’d gotten up around 7, fixing hair, getting dressed, getting some chapstick on, and doing a few chores around the house before hopping in your car. His house wasn’t exactly close. Almost an hour away by your guess, looking at the foldout map you had.

And that wasn’t even counting the ice and snow, or other environmental factors.

As you’d predicted, your little old car with a few different colored doors and bumper, had struggled in the snow. It didn’t help that your tires were already worn down, nearly smooth, and that you didn’t have the money to replace them.

First, it had been hydroplaning on some ice on one of the old, broken-down roads. You wondered how Mason—Alex, managed to drive down here.

Then your tire had gotten stuck in a pile of snow, and you’d been blown every which way by the harsh winds while digging your tire out.

You’d had to very, very slowly make your way up the hills and bumpy, rocky roads with what felt like giant potholes everywhere. It was a miracle you’d even made it to his house, assuming, hoping, the cabin that was a medium size was his.

You took a bit of time to redo your hair in the car mirror, make sure you were at least presentable, before getting out and walking to the cabin.

A few bangs on the wooden door and hopes that you wouldn’t get splinters was all it took for the door to open, and Alex to be behind it. He looked relatively the same, just in a thicker jacket today, hair a bit more disheveled.

Another sleepless night, by the looks of it.

There was a second of awkwardness, which was bound to be there when you invite basically a stranger into your home to watch your small child.

“Come in,”

He finally spoke, his tone gruff as he gestured inside. The gooey warmth of the house surrounded you, a harsh contrast to the chill outside.

The cabin wasn’t huge, but it had separate rooms, maybe a second floor, and you assumed it wasn’t entirely wood as insulation would be needed to keep warm in the harsh winters. This floor seemed to be all one main area, with a cooking area towards the back.

There was a rug in the center, a place to hang coats with multiple on it, including a woman’s, and some furniture including a dark brown couch and a black reclining chair.

The kitchen-area had a table, with wooden counters that seemed custom built. A sink with empty dishes piled up, empty drying rack, and a washing machine and dryer tucked into the back corner all were in there as well.

Some toys were scattered around, mostly ones made of sticks, homemade it seemed.

There were stairs leading to the second floor, where you assumed Alex and his son’s rooms were.

“David’s upstairs, the room on the right.”

Alex said, watching you take everything in. He looked to be watching your face, looking for some sort of emotion, expecting something.

He didn’t find it.

“Does he have any schedule? Certain times for food, naps, all that?”

You instead asked, slipping your too-thin coat off and hanging it on the coat rack. You assumed David was young, 2 or 3 years maybe, and at that age they needed routine and schedule.

Alex reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, averting your gaze because of either shame or embarrassment because of how much of a mess he looked.

“Just…breakfast when he gets up, usually a nap at 12 after lunch, dinner at 5 after outside time.”

You gave him an incredulous look.

“Outside time? It’s cold as shit out there.”

“He has a jacket.”

“I’m not taking him out there.”

He sighed, and as if on cue, crying could be heard from upstairs. He looked tired more than anything, moving to go up the stairs, when you laid a hand on his arm, stopping him.

His body tensed and relaxed, and then he glanced back at you.

“I’ll get him.”

It looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t have the energy to protest, watching as you walked up the creaking stairs, moving to the door on the right, glancing at a picture of a woman’s picture on the right side of the wall.

Pushing the door open and peeking in, you realize David and Alex didn’t have separate rooms, David slept in Alex’s room. It was no wonder he wasn’t getting any sleep.

There was a small bed in the corner of the room with little borders around it, and a small body lying beneath a blanket. Whining cries came from David, a few sniffles and a little muttered “Daddy,” could be heard.

You crept slowly closer, till you kneeled by the bed. Your hands hovered above his body hidden under the blanket, hesitation clawing at you for a moment, before you gently laid a hand on what looked like his shoulder.

“David?”

He went deathly silent as soon as you spoke, only sniffling. Slowly, his wrinkled blanket shifted off as he turned and sat up, leaning against his elbow as he looked at you.

“Mom?”

His little, confused, and slightly raw voice from the crying nearly broke you. He slowly blinked his eyes open, rubbing at them to wipe the remaining tears away. He must’ve been having a nightmare, to still be asleep and crying.

“No, I’m not your mom. I’m just going to watch you while your dad goes out.”

You tried phrasing it carefully, using a delicate voice not to scare him. Most kids were fine with strangers, just wary at first. David didn’t seem to be having it, a hint of panic entering his eyes as he tried jolting out of bed, feet landing on the wooden floor.

Your attempts to catch him when he tried to bolt were unsuccessful, he slipped right past and ran right into the hallway and down the stairs. Hearing a small grunt, and fearing that David might’ve fallen down the stairs, you hurried out only to see the little boy clinging to his dad.

“You can’t go, dad, they’ll get you!”

He yelled, his high-pitched voice squeaky with fear as the tears seemed to almost begin again, his arms wrapped around Alex’s leg with a grip strength you knew only a child had.

Alex grimaced for a moment, then tried prying David off of him.

“Nobody’s coming to get me, David. I’m gonna be fine.”

He tried reassuring him, and it only made the little boy more hysterical as he began crying.

“Don’t go—“

He screamed. You descended the stairs, moving over to David. He was still in his little pajamas, the fabric seeming thick to keep him warm.

“How about I just make you breakfast, alright? He’s not going anywhere.”

Mason shot you a dirty look, clearly having been ready to leave, but David slowly quieted down, nodding along with your suggestion as you wiped away his tears, slowly picking him up and placing him on your hip.

Only twenty minutes later, you were standing with David next to you, near the gas stove inside.

A pan was laid down, and you put down strips of whatever meat it had been, deer probably, and cooked it like bacon. It smelled good, at least. David was holding a spatula and haphazardly poking about at the meat, rambling about chickens he’d seen before.

Mason was seated at the table, tying the laces of his thick shoes, before messing with the string of a bow he’d pulled from another room.

After finishing with the meat, you looked around in a few cabinets, trying to find some plates.

“Bottom left of the oven.”

Alex had a strange look in his eye, it looked like both nostalgia and mourning in one as he watched you grab three plates, fill them with food, then set them at the table and grab some cups to fill them with water.

“I don’t need a plate, I’ll be heading out soon.”

David’s little head snapped up at that, and you gave Alex a long, hard look.

“You’re eating.”

A little stare-off ensued, a few seconds of silence as David watched carefully until Alex sighed with a look of defeat.

“Fine, but I'm going out after.”

You weren’t going to let him go without food, especially not in this weather. He would freeze to death without any energy.

As you sat down at the table, sliding drinks of water to everyone, David nudged you subtly, and when you turned, he gave a little smile, one that you returned.

A small victory for both of you.

Breakfast went by fast, mainly silently, and then Alex left with his bow and heavy winter clothes on, arrows strung over his shoulder, boots thumping against the floor as the door slammed behind him, the hinge probably too worn to catch it.

You could figure out a way to fix that later, you supposed.

“So, do you like..drawing, playing, or…?”

You began, collecting and distributing the plates and silverware into the sink, standing there and turning the old leaky faucet on, watching David’s little face scrunch up as you took an old sponge and started cleaning.

It would take you a while to get through these, but you were determined. You’d earn that 10 dollars properly, fair and square, if it was the last thing you did.

“Drawing. I like..snow.”

He answered, and though you weren’t sure how one even ‘draws’ snow, considering it's pure white, you didn’t question it.

David ran off, and you figured he couldn’t get into too much trouble while you continued doing the dishes, shifting whichever foot you used every now and then as your heels started aching.

The drying rack slowly filled up, and David eventually returned with a stack of papers, all crumpled with messy scribbles all over them, but he presented them proudly as if they were the latest work of Picasso.

“Oh, did you draw those, hon?”

You asked, turning your head to glance at him, occasionally giving your sore wrists a rub, before getting back to the monotonous routine of scrubbing, wetting, and setting dishes on the drying rack.

“Yeah. This was our chicken. We ate him.”

It took you a few seconds to get over the mental whiplash of that sentence in and of itself, a crumpled picture displaying a yellow blob with a beak and stick legs in the center, and two vaguely human-shaped people beside it.

The next drawing was a brown blob sitting on what looked like a table, with a big fork by it.

Swallowing and giving a tight smile, you nodded along and glanced at some of the other drawings.

“That’s great, David. How about some of your other ones?”

If he weren’t a child, he would’ve noticed your desperation to change the subject.

“This is me and my dad. He takes me hunting with him sometimes.”

Hunting with a toddler sounded like a nightmare, but who were you to judge?

“Do you get anything?”

You asked with a little smile, reaching over and pinching his cheek, watching him giggle and crack a smile, playfully shaking your hand off.

“I got a squirrel,”

He said with a little shrug, and you gave him a pat on the head, watching as he ran over to the table with his papers, tripping over his feet briefly and glancing back at you with a silly grin, trying to see if you’d seen that (which you very clearly had).

While you finished up the dishes, your hands feeling soaked to the bone at this point, even as you put the final dish on the drying rack and finally dried your hands, they still felt wet.

Sighing, you used your hand to scoop out any of the food scraps in the drain, cringing at the sensory hell that was wet tomatoes and weeks old food that had just been stewing, wiping your hand off as fast as possible after tossing the amalgamation of food into the trash.

Just as you were about to go take a seat on the couch, or the table, or anywhere, to give your aching feet a break, you felt your shirt getting tugged on.

“Look, it’s us!”

David yelled excitedly, waving a paper in your face, one showing a small almost-human looking thing standing next to a larger one holding a circle, maybe a plate, that you assumed was him and you.

“Oh, is that us?”

You asked, smiling at the cute little drawing, taking it in your hands to study it closer, watching as he nodded happily.

“I’ll hang it on the fridge later, how about we play some?”

He seemed to like the suggestion of playing, running over and collecting his favorite toys in the living room as you set the picture on top of the fridge, smiling at it, though intrigued by what games David even played.

By the time he went down for his nap, you’d been subjected to four games of Hide n’ Seek, two games of Tag, a very long game of playing with wooden Cars, and homemade Jenga with random sticks.

You worked yourself nearly dry collecting all the laundry from the rooms in the house, and tossing it into the laundry machine with a Tide pod, hoping that would get all the dirt out.

The dishes dried, though you decided on waiting until David went down to bed at 8 to finally put them up, not wanting to accidentally break any, or god knows what with an agent of chaos like the young boy running around.

“I don’t wanna go sleep,”

David whined, despite clearly being tired, yawning and rubbing his eyes, though his complaints were long drowned away by the sound of his soft snores as you rocked him in an old, squeaky chair.

It wasn’t the most comfortable, but considering he said he usually wasn’t rocked to sleep, you would make it work.

When you heard the front door open, whistling wind blowing in, then the door shutting, you decided it was time to stand and gently put David in his bed, taking care not to wake him as you tucked him in, giving him a tiny kiss on the cheek.

When you turned to walk out of the room, you found a shadowy figure standing there, and nearly jumped out of your own skin until realizing it was Alex there, watching David who was sound asleep.

Lifting a finger to your lips, you tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door softly before you found Mason looking at you, his head cocked a bit to the side.

“How did you get him to sleep so easily?”

He said it awkwardly as if this was something he was supposed to know, and honestly, it was, but considering the passing of his wife you could cut him some slack.

“I let him run around earlier, get him to settle down an hour before he goes down, then just rock him for a good bit and he knocks right out.”

Alex nodded, glancing down at the floor, taking it in as he made a mental note to write that down later, not that you’d know.

A bit of awkward silence ensued, until you glanced outside, and saw that it was already dark.

“Ah—I should go, it’s dark already.”

You spoke, heading down the stairs after squirming past him, and grabbing your things from the kitchen counters as Alex followed behind, seeing you out the door, until his voice caught your attention right before you walked out.

“He drew this?”

Mason asked, seeming a bit shocked at the drawing that had been on the top of the fridge, but a hint of hope lingered in his expression. He held it gently in his hands, a rare reprieve from the brusqueness he never seemed to let simmer down.

You nodded, slipping from the doorway just a moment, and walking over to lightly tug the paper from his hands.

“He’s sweet, you know. I didn’t expect him to warm up to me so quickly.”

You spoke with a small smile, taking the paper and walking it over to the fridge, sticking the drawing on it with a little piece of tape from a drawer.

Alex looked at the paper, the singular one on the slightly yellowing-but-still-white fridge, and replied, even if only to his thoughts.

“He hasn’t drawn since his mother. I’ve had other people watching him before, he hasn’t let anyone other than Woods do it. Well, until you.”

His words were heavy, dripping with pain and a sting of regret, his child’s lasting nightmares, and behavior the punishment for his mistakes.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured, not knowing what else to say, the air in the house feeling almost suffocatingly thick with mourning now and the shadow of a woman you didn’t know if you could live up to or not.

Mason shook his head as if trying to shake off the thoughts swimming in his mind.

“It’s not your fault. He likes you, you’re…good for him, that’s what matters.”

The words stung exiting his mouth, his pride taking a fatal blow as he finally realized that you, someone he’d just met, someone David had just been introduced to, was better with David than him.

Alex knew how to give David the tough-love side, the part of parenting that keeps your kid’s skin thick. But he couldn’t do the comfort, the loving side, the warm side of things, that was what David needed, and you could give it better than him.

As you gave a little nod, slipped the jacket on, and picking your things up again, you opened the door and left, climbing into your car and beginning the long journey home, you wondered if you could ever be as good for Alex as you were for David.

The next day was similar, as was the following week, and you collected your paycheck and managed to finally afford something decent at the grocery without haggling for it, or buying things only on clearance.

You and David settled into a routine, you’d arrive in the morning, and you would make everyone some breakfast, then do the dishes and laundry while David colored (something you now encouraged more after seeing the effect it had on Alex), then after some playing, he went down for his nap.

By the time you’d already convinced David to help clean his room up, it was mostly bedtime, and you’d rock him to sleep until Alex got home.

Alex had slowly warmed up to you, it seemed, talking to you a bit more in the mornings before he left, and you finally figured out how to make him talk more once you asked him about what he did while he hunted, how he prepared the animals to eat, etc.

You’ve been timing how long you can get him to talk ever since he went on for almost an hour straight about specific hunting gear and how you know which is best for the specific animal you’re hunting.

He’s even made an idle comment about taking you someday, something you weren’t too sure about.

The house turned into more of a home, colored pictures taped onto the fridge, old storybooks growing more worn, family dinners when Alex got home early, especially you growing more comfortable, no longer hesitating when reaching for a cup or a plate, knowing where everything was.

You fit in. Maybe not in the hole left behind by David’s mother, but somewhere else in the puzzle left behind by her absence.

Then it happened.

It was like any other morning, you’d been cooking some sausage and eggs for breakfast, hair messily thrown up, when you heard Alex’s footsteps behind you.

David was still asleep, having stayed up a bit late the night before as a reward for cleaning his room.

You’d looked over your shoulder, finding him rubbing his eyes, still only in a pair of boxers (a sight you were graced with on the occasional mornings he forgot you were in his home), and turned back around before he saw your face turn bright pink.

Picking up the spatula, you went to flip the sausages in the pan over, however the last one landed a bit too hard and the oil in the pan splashed up against your arm.

A little yelp of startled pain came out of your mouth, as your hand went to the burnt spot on your arm, before instinctively moving to the sink to run some lukewarm water over it.

“Christ,”

You muttered, completely forgetting about the man behind you until you felt his rough, calloused fingers (surely the result of all his hunting) brushing against your arm, shifting it so he could see the damage.

The skin was red, maybe a bit peeling really, and it stung badly as the water ran over it, soothing it a bit before the pain flared back up.

“It’s not that bad. Just…let me,”

His voice was thick with fatigue still, the usual raspiness only quantified, his hair an absolute mess and eyes only halfway opened. Almost hotter than the scalding oil still resting on your skin.

He used some soap to gently clean the burn off, before drying it and smearing some Vaseline from an old tub of it he had lying around the kitchen, finishing by wrapping a bandage around it, not too tight, but just enough to where it was snug.

You had been simply standing there this whole time, staring at him, watching the focus in his eyes as he had gently dealt with the wound.

“There.”

He muttered, finally glancing up at you, meeting your gaze, his hand still cradling your arm.

A moment of silence reigned, both of you holding your breath before somebody leaned in first, Alex’s free hand cupping your cheek, your fingers fisting in his hair, as your lips desperately met together.

For just a moment, it felt like a breath of fresh air, like something that had been growing for weeks had finally come to culminate, until you both separated, and the house of cards came crashing down.

He stared, wide-eyed, as did you at him, both of you completely silent.

“I should—go,”

Alex blurted, turned, and retreated to his bedroom, probably to get dressed and leave to go hunt, though, with your luck, he probably wouldn’t even come back after that.

I mean really, what had you been thinking? He’d just lost his wife, been raising a kid alone, and dealing with the trauma of whatever military service he had, you couldn’t know what he was going through.

And to assume that he might want you, might want even a relationship, after only a few months of knowing each other, it was stupid. You were a fool to think you would even have a chance.

And just as you thought the situation couldn’t get worse, turning and letting out a shaky breath, you saw David peek out from behind the couch.

The both of you locked eyes, and pure, self-deprecating shame rose in you.

You had just kissed the father of the child you babysat, while he watched, after his mother had died.

David pulled his head back behind the couch, but it was too late, his discovery already evident in how you walked over to the couch, rubbing your temples as a headache began forming, and called out to him.

“David, I know you’re there. Just…come out, alright?”

David, in all his stubborn glory, did not emerge from his hiding spot.

The scent of something burning hit your nose before you could finally pull him out from behind there, and you remembered that the sausage and eggs were still on the pan.

“Shit,”

You cursed quietly, moving over to the pan and seeing how bad it was. Overall, they were still edible, just a bit crunchy on the outside. And black.

“What’s a shit?”

David asked from right beside you, grubby hands reaching up to the counter as he stood on his tiptoes, trying to see inside the pan. His voice startled you, and you let out a small yell of surprise before putting a hand over your heart, and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t say that David, it’s a bad word.”

You took two plates, distributing the burnt food on both of them, in generally equal portions.

“But you said it?”

Sighing, you set the plates out on the table, grabbing cups and silverware to go along with it.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply to David, you watched Alex emerge from what led to his room, dressed now, and walk straight past you with no acknowledgment of you or the food, not even David.

He hadn’t eaten at all this morning, surely he’d be hungry.

You shook it off, moving to sit in your chair across from David.

“Well, I’m bad.”

You simply said, shoving a forkful of burnt sausage into your mouth, not enjoying the crunchiness of the usually soft, or at least tender food.

David tried to hold back his winces as he chewed some eggs, giving a strained smile as he swallowed.

“I don’t think you’re bad. You play games and rock me, and make us food.”

Another hesitant bite of sausage. You sighed.

“Thanks, David. That’s sweet.”

You offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Whether he noticed or not, he didn’t say anything, preferring to eat the rest of his breakfast in silence while he stared at the wood grain of the table in front of him.

You didn’t mind.

The rest of the day passed by per usual, you dragged through your daily chores, played with David for a bit, though even he seemed to notice you were lost in your thoughts.

“Helloooo? Anybody theeeere?”

He asked, knocking on your forehead like it was a door. Snapped out of overthinking, you rubbed your forehead with a frown.

“I’m here. Just…thinking.”

David tossed his toy car aside, flopping down beside you on the floor in a starfish pattern, sighing dramatically as he stared up at the ceiling.

“‘Bout what.”

He asked, glancing over at you. You looked over at him with a raised brow.

“Noneya. It’s adult stuff.”

You replied, giving him a little flick on the nose as he sat up, looking at you with squinted eyes.

“It’s because you kissed my dad this morning, isn’t it. Are you pregnant now?”

The pure shock that went through you at that combination of sentences made your brain short-circuit for a minute before you shook your head.

“God, no. That’s not how that works.”

“Then how does it—“

“Ask your dad.”

David crossed his arms with a ‘hmph’ sound, pouting for a minute or two that you wouldn’t tell him, before going back to his previous curiosity, unable to leave the subject alone.

“Is he mad at you? Since you kissed him?”

He asked, watching you closely. It took you a minute to answer that, the old portraits on the walls seeming to bore into your back.

“I’m not sure. I think he is.”

David frowned at that.

“That’s dumb. He kissed you back.”

He made a valid point, after all. If Alex was trying to move on before he was ready, he should communicate that, though communication didn’t seem to be among his most common skills.

Then it hit you.

“And just how long were you watching that, David?”

You asked, turning to face him with a suspicious look on your face, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips when you saw him squeal and giggle.

The rest of the day passed by without a hitch, David seeming to go out of his way to cheer you up with silly jokes or games that he thought you would like. It did work, you’d give him that.

But what you were worried about was when Alex came home.

If you could just get David down for bed extra early, you might be able to leave as soon as you saw Alex pulling up, meaning you could just go home, and avoid getting fired as a babysitter and just ‘quit’ (aka; never show up again and ghost him).

As you rocked David that night, you got up a bit earlier than usual from the rocking chair, and as you set David down in his bed, tucking him in, and giving him a little kiss on the forehead, you accepted it very well might be the last time you did it.

He was sound asleep, having been lulled into the dreamland by the heavy rain thudding against the house, meaning it would take longer for you to get home than usual, but that was fine.

As you gathered your coat, shoving all your belongings in your bag, you finally walked to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it, only to find Alex standing directly on the other side, hand outreached for the doorknob.

In his other hand, he held a collection of things that were stashed in the front of your car, right around the console.

“Here. Didn’t want them getting ruined.”

He said, still not meeting your eyes as he handed them to you.

Taking them in your hands with a furrowed brow, you looked over at your car to see what he was talking about, only to see the windshield smashed in, the culprit, hail, already all inside the car.

A heavy sigh tore its way out of you. No going home tonight.

It was hailing hard, and big, too.

Alex cleared his throat, and you stepped aside, letting him into the house, and shutting the door behind him. He set his bow down, peeling his jacket off and setting it on a coat rack to dry.

“David asleep already?”

He asked, eyes on the pan in the sink, and the burnt crust of food stuck to the bottom of it.

“No, you don’t get to do this.”

You said, anger flaring up at him as you walked to face him directly, staring him in the eye, though he wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“I don’t know what you—“

“You don’t get to come home after what happened this morning and pretend like it didn’t happen. You also don’t get to pretend that you just ran off, instead of even saying anything at all, like the emotionally constipated adult that you are!”

You hadn’t realized you’d raised your voice until you were yelling at him, sniffling, holding back tears of barely reined fury.

He finally looked up with a hard expression, looking uncomfortable, but not willing to back down.

“I just—I wasn’t ready yet.”

“And you couldn’t tell me that? Here I sat the entire day thinking I fucked everything up, just because you didn’t tell me you weren’t ready?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what the hell did you mean? You led me on with that, just to run from your emotions and say you aren’t ready?”

“I’m not running from anything.”

He snapped, voice raising on that word, watching as you flinched back just an inch, both guilt and fear rising in his body at the fact that he had scared you.

Just like his father had done to his mother.

“Okay, well when you feel like quitting the tough-guy asshole act, let me know.”

You spat, turning and swallowing thickly as you stormed upstairs, going left where you knew the guest bedroom was, though it was hardly a guest bedroom, more a place where spare tools were stored.

Still, it had a bed, door, and mostly functioning lights, so it would work for the night.

As you lay in the bed, letting yourself curl up beneath the stiff blankets, you let a few tears slip out—only a few, and let the sound of the hail slamming against the wooden roof lull you to sleep.

He was here again.

Giant mills, prisoners everywhere that didn’t speak a language he knew, officers with their batons all too ready to strike, Alex Mason knew where he was from the moment he felt the stinging snow hit his face like a whip.

Vorkuta.

But then the world beneath him shifted, and he was no longer above ground, but beneath it, strapped to a metal table, screaming in agony as nails and fire bit into his skin, marking and branding him.

Men stood above him, around him, whispering to him in his ears if he listened close enough between the screaming of his mouth and the grinding of whatever machinery was nearby him.

Numbers, they blurred at his vision, eating away, until he looked up and Reznov was there, and he needed to secure the keys, ascend from darkness—then it all came to an ultimatum as he looked Steiner in the eye, the barrel of his gun staring down the scientist, as he shouted it.

His mouth opened, jaw moving, but no sound came out, then he was falling and falling and falling and—

He sat up in his bed with a gasp, clutching at his heart, tears blurring his vision.

Footsteps came from down the hall, and he reached to his nightstand for the gun he always kept there, shaking hands clicking the safety off of it, and cocking it back as his door slowly creaked open, light from the hallway pouring in through the crack.

Someone was there.

He began hyperventilating, pointing the gun at the person who slowly approached, not stopping, and his finger twitched around the trigger—until he heard it.

“Alex?”

It was you.

With a sigh, he clicked the safety on, shoving the gun back onto his nightstand.

“Hey.”

His voice shook, warm tears pouring their way down his cheeks, his entire body trembling under the weight of the nightmare he’d just re-lived.

“I heard you scream. Is everything…alright?”

He must’ve screamed outside of the dream. Stupid. He might’ve woken David up with that, the reason why David had barely gotten much sleep to begin with.

Sure, the nightmares had been better since you’d been around, but still.

The pills hardly helped.

“I’m fine.”

He muttered, shaking his head as he rubbed his eyes, sniffling, feeling the dip in the bed beside him as you sat down.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Just…be vulnerable, for once?”

For a moment, Alex considered it.

Vulnerability wasn’t something he had ever been able to afford back when he was still working in the CIA. There were always secrets to be kept, people to be killed, jobs to be done, he didn’t have time to spill out all his feelings in some sappy mess of emotion.

He couldn’t afford it.

But maybe, just this once, he could try. If not for himself, then for you.

“Me, and my wife. We were getting divorced when she died. She had an accident, or that’s what the CIA wants me to fuckin’ say about it.”

He sniffled, feeling your arm wrap around his shoulder, and leaning into you, his body slowly calming down from the nightmare.

“I’m sorry, for running away. I was scared. Didn’t…need you getting hurt, not like she was.”

He forced out, the words coming out awkwardly, but raw from his throat.

A moment of silence reigned, before you spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

Your arms wrapped around him, and then you were hugging him, something he only ever got from David, and on a very rare occasion, Woods.

And he hugged you back, squeezing tightly, trying to erase the memories that were still hunting him down, chasing him relentlessly no matter how far he ran from them.

The words crawled up his throat until finally, they spilled out.

“Distract me. Please.”

He begged, his voice cracking as he looked up at you, you looking back at him.

You assumed he might’ve just not been in the best state of mind, but seeing him beg for you to just distract him from whatever was going on in his head, was a convincing enough argument over whatever moral compass you still had at this point.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips against his, but softer this time, more gentle, until his tongue pushed between your lips, desperate to taste, wanting more and more.

You let him, meanwhile slowly moving him back on the bed, separating from the kiss just to lay his head gently back against the pillow. Leaning down, you pressed a small kiss to the corner of his lips, leading down to his neck as you delivered a few nips above his Carotid.

He let out a hiccuping sob of relief as you slipped your hand into his boxers, wrapping your hand around his hard cock, giving it slow pumps as his hips bucked up, desperate to meet the warmth of your hand squeezing around his dick.

“Fuck, please—“

He begged, his breathing growing heavier, quicker as his hands began pawing at your clothes, slipping beneath your shirt and simply feeling up your body as best as he could.

Your other hand cupped his balls, giving the occasional squeeze when you felt like he’d earned it.

“Yes—“

He hissed, his eyes shut tight as your thumb swiped over the head of his cock, gathering the sticky precum that had beaded there and using it as lube over the rest of his dick.

One of Alex’s hands found their way into your pants, finding just the right sweet spot, and rubbing desperately at it as pleasure shot up your nerves, your thighs clenching as you swore through panted breathing and little moans.

As soon as you grew close, the coil in your stomach growing tighter, your hand movements became almost frenzied, desperately jerking his dick back and forth as he let out deep groans, his tear-stained eyelashes clumping together as his chest desperately rose up and down, his breathing damn near hyperventilating.

When he finally came, his thighs clamped shut around your body, hips spasming with small, uncontrolled thrusts as he threw his head back so hard it almost hit the bed frame.

His hand moved faster on you, working you until the point of no return came, and your orgasm crashed over you, more into you, as your nails dug little half-moons into Alex’s shoulders, eyes squeezed tight as the sounds coming out of you must’ve been ungodly.

You almost immediately collapsed onto him, hands slipping out of his boxers, and settling on his chest, as he also pulled his hand out of your pants, wrapping an arm around you instead, as you both struggled to catch your breath.

Laying your head against his chest, you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your body down, grabbing the blanket that smelled distinctly of him, as did the whole damn bed, and pulling it halfway over both of your bodies.

“Thanks,”

Alex finally spoke after catching his breath, his hand now entangled in your hair as he idly played with it, seeming content to just lie here for a while.

“Are you…better now?”

You asked, shifting a bit upwards to look him in the eye, pressing a small kiss against his lips, one he lightly reciprocated.

“Yeah, I’m…alright. Really, thank you. ‘M sorry I wasn’t honest with you earlier. I was being dumb.”

You smiled a bit at that, now laying your head on his shoulder as you spoke.

“Yeah, you were being dumb.”

He let out a raspy laugh at that, the movement of him laughing causing you to get jostled a bit, not that you minded much. At least he was feeling better now.

A comfortable silence settled in around the both of you, the only sound being a bit of hail, the hail storm having significantly lightened in the time that had passed so far, at this rate it would probably stop soon.

“Looks like the hail’s just about done.”

He murmured, turning his head just a bit towards the window to look, despite the curtains being closed. You let out a little muffled grunt.

“Glad it got my car before stopping.”

You muttered, still mad about your windshield being smashed, but oh well, at least it had led to this, tonight.

Maybe you did have something to thank the hail for, after all.

Alex let out a huff of laughter at that, the hand that wasn’t in your hair now rubbing up and down your back beneath your shirt, seeming to appreciate the skin-on-skin contact it provided him.

“If you’d move in, you wouldn’t have to drive that old thing up and down here anyway.”

He murmured to you, his tone mostly teasing and affectionate, but with the slightest hint of seriousness underlying all of it.

You let out a small hum of thought, content as you were surrounded by his strong arms, laying against his warm skin, covered in his blankets, in his bed, before you replied.

“Maybe.”

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aurelacs · 1 month ago

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“I’m anti military but I think Vietnam vets should be able to get their little Dunkin discount for being forcibly sent to fight a wildly unpopular war and then being treated like dog shit with 0 access to any veteran’s services when they got back because of how unpopular said war was” is now “bootlicking”. Okay.

#the next sentence i said was to dunk on iraq and afghanistan vets but no im a bootlicker #jesus fucking christ you people are annoying

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uvpartybomb · 4 months ago

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Had a dream where there was a 64-bit/Horror Visual Novel game about Merged Conscious, so now I wanna talk about it

Nameless protagonist and their nameless dog that you can name both whatever you want. Protagonist is 24, possibly enbie, and has a bachelor's in an unspecified area, but it's also left in the open whether the game takes place in the 90s or 2000s, so protagonist could have been born in either the 70s or 80s.

Protagonist suffers from severe social anxiety, so bad actually, that their mother had to step in and be the one to negotiate their house purchase, in whatever state/county MC is taking place in, but since mom is from the mid-1950s, it's understandable that she might have gotten some stuff wrong, so she ended up coming into contact with a supposed "real estate agent" that she refers to as just 'Angel', and since 'Angel' is heavily implied to be an Echo in disguise, that is supposedly the reason Protag has been targeted.

Protag's father is already dead, and though they have many happy memories with him, they also have a very traumatic one which is of the day he died, and what little their brain allows them to remember, they know that someone tried to break into their old house, and that their dad managed to drive them away on his own, but he passed away from internal bleeding before authorities could arrive. Whether or not this means that Protag was a target for the Echoes ever since they were a kid is left unclear.

The only possession Protag has of their dad is a military jacket, implying that he could have been a Vietnam War veteran. Inside, is a charged L9A1 Browning that must have been left in there by accident, and will unlock two routes if picked up.

All the routes in the game are directly tied to Protag's dog, since it is either a service dog, or is so important to Protag's life that it is basically a therapy dog.

The "choosing point" starts after Protag has gone to sleep after a long day of unpacking, and they hear a creepy sound from downstairs, followed by their dog's incessant barking. Protag starts going downstairs to assess the situation, causing their dog to see them and start following them, and for them to see Damien trying to get through/around all the packing boxes in the living room.

The "Bad routes" can be achieved by hiding in any room that has a door, or in the bedroom closet, but leaving the doggo out. One of the reasons Damien will find Protag will be because of the barking. He shoves the dog out of the way and proceeds to either abruptly slam it open or break it down, depending if it was locked or not.

When Protag wakes back up (game was a bitch and didn't specify if they're still human or not), their dialogue options will either be very impulsive and without thought, especially about their doggo, or of complete silence. Bad routes can result in either Protag being killed if Damien and 'Angel' are irritated enough, or in them finding out that their dog died because Damien accidentally kicked it with too much force, and what happens next is left out in the open, presumably for you to imagine the rest.

Neutral routes are apparently numerous, but they have one theme in common: Protag is turned but their dog survives. My dream didn't provide me with too much of these, but I remember the few that there were. 1- Picking up the dog and evading Damien by making large noises in certain rooms and then hiding in another one, eventually managing to reach the front door, but since Damien is still after them, a chase sequence in the woods happens, which results in Protag getting their foot caught in a random bear trap. 2- The exact same thing but giving the dog a blouse with Protag's mother's phone number sown into it, and letting it run outside to maybe find help, thus Protag is caught but the dog is presumably safe. 3- Hiding in the bedroom closet along with the dog, but being unable to keep calm, eventually bursting into a panic attack, which for some reason makes Damien kill only Protag but leave the dog alone. 4- Shooting Damien with dad's pistol in either the arm or leg, but since the Good route pre-requisit wasn't met, this will just result in him ignoring the discomfort and attacking anyways. 5- After Damien has made it through all the boxes, having picked up the dog or not, shove the largest pile of those on top of him and bolt for the front door. It will refuse to open for whatever reason, and Damien will get up quickly, so Protag shields their dog with their own body instead of fighting back, resulting in their neck being snapped (screen goes black and a crunch noise is heard, so I assume it was that)

Protag will wake up in their living room, this time definitely no longer being human, and Damien is gonna try and talk to them out of the TV, because apparently, up until that point no one was ever so "creative" in trying to avoid him. Even if less polite dialogue options are chosen, D won't be offended or anything, just assuming that Protag is still agitated from all that happened. 'Angel' does eventually show up too, but so does Protag's dog (through the front door doggy space) and that's the most important fact for Protag. They're probably still in a sour mood, no matter if they expressed it or not, but they'll go along with their new "Echo agenda" out of obligation.

Neutral routes are sorta like "training routes" so it's understandable if their endings aren't the most satisfying.

The Good Route, I'd say, is the one that most requires fast reflexes and thinking. Perhaps it is the true ending of the game? After Protag sees Damien midway through the staircase and the doggo notices them, pick up the dog so it stops barking and grab dad's pistol. Go fully downstairs, try to hide and be as quiet as possible until Damien has made it through all the boxes, then run and shove the largest pile of those (kitchen stuff) on top of him, and quickly shoot him either once or twice in the head. Won't kill him, but will definitely give him enough of a headache (haha) for Protag to run away through the front door and reach a safe space without him still chasing them.

Yeah, that's it, I don't remember anything else lol :P

Holy hell this is a cool as fuck dream??

That's really interesting that Damien is so present in it despite there being an established Echo being 'Angel' but also makes some sense-

Your brain made a cool game within this dream, Anon goddamn! Love myself some multi choice games, i could see it in a few different styles, like you got a classic visual novel/RPG setting, like say.. The Crooked Man! Or maybe soemtimes more like Life is Strange or Detriot: Become human in a more 3D space with quick time events. Could even see it within a more retro feel of the styles that Fears to Fathom or Chilias art games has!

Oh this is cool as hell!

#I wonder what angel would look like #I could see their true form being the pure white form if they were a echo from the start #Maybe even their disguise having elements from what people find pretty #Cuz maybe they take the 'demon' route of appearing beautiful to othere #Almost like a lure #But the Angel name is misleading to make them seem more innocent #Also the protag having a close connection with their dad is very sweet #And the dog being super important to neutral and good endings is interesting too!#Especially its survival for those endings #And the death of the dog being mostly accidents makes sense #Killing the dog has no purpose for any echo even turned ones #So accidental deaths makes sense #Oh this is cool as hell!#Merged conscious

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choppedcowboydinosaur · 6 months ago

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The Big Lebowski is about people who are uncomfortable with themselves except Lebowski and the art chick.

Lebowski's military vet friend constantly goes on about his service in Vietnam and his Jewish religion. Even though he only converted to Judaism to marry is wife who he is now divorced and has to babysit her dogs as she vacations in Maui. It makes me wonder if he actually served or not in the war.

The main rich guy presents himself as this powerful man. But in reality he doesn't wield that much power or influence. His wife was the one with the money and gave it to him to do his little charity thing. It's especially funny when Lebowski's military buddy bear hugs the rich guy and throws him to the ground thinking he's faking his crippled legs.

And then you have the German Nihilists who antagonize Lebowski for the money and act like they are so mysterious and above it all with their ideology. But even that is a sham since it's revealed the German Nihilist is a failed musician and failed porn star. So, the whole nihilist thing he has going on is a hollow sham.

Lebowski is the only one who is comfortable with himself and lives his own life. The art chick is also comfortable with who she is and doesn't put up any fronts. The only negative thing you could say about the art chick is she's pretentious but that's usually the case with the avant garde artist types.

#the big lebowski #media analysis #themes #everyone is uncomfortable with themselves and put up a front #except lebowski and the art chick

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brookstonalmanac · 10 months ago

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Holidays 8.1

Holidays

African Emancipation Day (Trinidad and Tobago)

Air Force Day

Armed Forces Day (China, Lebanon)

Azerbaijani Language and Alphabet Day

Basil Day (French Republic)

Battle of Athens Day

Bitcoin Independence Day

Caribbean Day

Chopsticks Day

Clergy Sexual Abuse Awareness and Prevention Day

Cross-Quarter Day

Cycle to Work Day (UK)

Day of Azerbaijani Language and Alphabet

Day of Pachamama (Peru)

Day of the Rear Services of the Armed Forces (Russia)

Day of the Telephone Operator (Mexico)

DOGust

Earth Overshoot Day 2024 (a.k.a. Ecological Debt Day) [ website ]

Ectopic Pregnancy Awareness Day

801 Day

Emancipation Day (UK; British Commonwealth)

Freedom Day (Belize)

Freedom to Marry Day (Minnesota)

Friendship Day

Gold Star Children’s Day

Girlfriends’ Day

Good Sportsmanship Day

Grain Marketing Freedom Day (Canada)

Guca Brass Bands Day (Serbia)

Harriet Quimby Day

HitchBOT Remembrance Day

Homowo (a.k.a. Hooting at Hunger; Ghana)

Indigenous Peoples Day (Taiwan)

International Adaptive Activity Day

International Can-It-Forward Day

International Childfree Day

International Mahjong Day

International Marine Protected Areas Day

International Sri Lankan Leopard Day

International Woo-Ah Day

Jerry Day

Laa Luanys (Isle of Man)

Laughter Day (Southern California)

Led Zeppelin Day

Liberation of Haile Selassie Day (Rastafari)

Memorial Day for the Victims of World War I (Russia)

Minden Day (UK)

Minority Donor Awareness Day

MTV Day

National Alpaca Day (Peru)

National American Family Day

National Andrew Day

National CBD Day

National Girlfriends Day

National Huddle Ledbetter Day

National Mahjong Day

National Minority Donor Awareness Day

National Mountain Climbing Day

National Non-Parent Day

National Poll Worker Recruitment Day

National Promise to Care Day

National Spritz Day

National Waifu Day

National Warsaw Uprising Remembrance Day (Poland)

National Wedding Day (UK)

National York Day

Odaiba Day

Oxygen Discovery Day

Parents’ Day (Democratic Republic of the Congo; Zaire)

Planner Day

Play Ball Day

Pod Body Day (Portland, Maine)

Respect For Parents Day

RNA Day

Rounds Resounding Day

San Francisco Cable Car Day

Scout Foundation Day

Scout Scarf Day

Social Resistance Day (North Cyprus)

Spider-Man Day

Sports Day

SSN 801 Day

Startup Day Across America

Swiss National Day

Technical Support Worker Day (Russia)

Treida de Santo Domingo de Guzmán (Nicaragua)

Thoroughbred Birthday (Southern Hemisphere)

Victory Day (Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam)

White Rabbit Day

Wipe the Slate Clean Day

Woman Astronomers Day

Women’s Day (Thailand)

World Breastfeeding Day

World Day of Joy

World Fintech Day

World Lung Cancer Day

World Middle Finger Day

World Naked Sailing Day

World Scout Scarf Day

World Wide Web Day

Yaoi Day

Yorkshire Day (England)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Belgian Frites Day (a.k.a. International Day of Belgian Fries)

Homemade Pie Day

International Albariño Day

International Can-It Forward Day

Mars Bar Day

National Nutritional Yeast Day

National Raspberry Cream Pie Day

Old Vine Day

Independence & Related Days

Benin (originally Dahomey; from France, 1960)

Colorado Statehood Day (#38; 1876)

Guadalcanal Province Day (Solomon Islands)

Jennytopia (Declared; 2019) [unrecognized]

Switzerland (a.k.a. Confederation Day; from Holy Roman Empire, 1291)

Toku (Declared; 2014) [unrecognized]

Vodopol (Declared; 2021) [unrecognized]

1st Thursday in August

August Thursday (Anguilla) [1st Thursday]

Emancipation Day (Bermuda; 1st Day of Cup Match) [Thursday before 1st Monday in August]

Kid Lit Art Postcard Day [1st Thursday]

National Dash Cam Day (UK) [1st Thursday]

National IPA Day (f.k.a. International IPA Day) [1st Thursday]

Weekly Holidays beginning August 1 (1st Week of August)

Brat Days (Sheboygan, Wisconsin) [1st Thursday thru Sunday]

Carnaval del Pueblo (London, UK) [1st Week]

International Assistance Dog Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

International Clown Week (thru 8.7)

International Mathematicians Week (thru 8.9)

National Albariño Week (thru 8.5)

National Cleanse Your Skin Week (thru 8.7)

National Fraud Awareness Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

National Minority Donor Awareness Week (thru 8.7)

National Scrabble Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

National Video Game Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

Satchmo Days [begin Thursday nearest 8.4 thru Sunday]

Simplify Your Life Week (thru 8.7)

World Breastfeeding Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

Festivals Beginning August 1, 2024

American Cured Meat Championships (Omaha, Nebraska) [thru 8.3]

August is Maine Lobster Month (Statewide, Maine) [thru 8.31]

Bear Lake Raspberry Days Festival (Garden City, Utah) [thru 8.3]

Castlefest (Lisse, Netherlands) [thru 8.4]

Clam Festival (Highlands, New Jersey) [thru 8.3]

Denver Burger Battle (Denver, Colorado)

Eden Corn Festival (Eden, New York) [thru 8.4]

Empire Farm Days (Pompey, New York) [thru 8.3]

Estherville Sweet Corn Days (Estherville, Iowa) [thru 8.4]

Gen Con (Indianapolis, Indiana) [thru 8.4]

Green Gathering (Chepstow, United Kingdom) [thru 8.4]

Houston Restaurant Weeks (Houston, Texas) [thru 9.2]

Katahdin Sheep Show (Mexico, Missouri) [thru 8.3]

Klamath County Fair (Klamath Falls, Oregon) [thru 8.4]

Lollapalooza (Chicago, Illinois) [thru 8.4]

Mammoth Festival of Beers & Bluesapalooza (Mammoth Lakes, California) [thru 8.4]

Mile of Music (Appleton, Wisconsin) [thru 8.4]

Minnesota Fringe Festival (Minneapolis, Minnesota) [thru 8.11]

Mobile Motion Film Festival (Zurich, Swizterland) [thru 8.31]

Official Star Trek Convention (Las Vegas, Nevada) [thru 8.4]

Outer Banks Watermelon Festival (Nag's Head, North Carolina)

Owensville Watermelon Festival (Owensville, Indiana) [thru 8.3]

Phelps Sauerkraut Weekend (Phelps, New York) [thru 8.4

Pol’and’Rock Festival (Woodstock Festival Poland; Czaplinek, Poland) [thru 8.3]

Saint Dominic Days (Managua) [thru 8.10]

Saskatoon Fringe Festival (Saskatoon, Canada) [thru 8.10]

Spicemas (Grenada Carnival; St. George’s, Grenada) [thru 8.13]

Sumner County Fair (Caldwell, Kansas) [thru 8.4]

Toronto Caribbean Carnival (Toronto, Canada) [thru 8.5]

Twin Cities Vegan Chef Challenge (Minneapolis, Minnesota) [thru 8.31]

Washington Wine Month (Washington State) [thru 8.31]

Wisconsin State Fair (West Allis, Wisconsin) [thru 8.11]

World Lumberjack Championships [thru 8.3]

XIT Rodeo & Reunion (Dalhart, Texas) [thru 8.3]

Zanzibar International Film Festival (Zanzibar City, Tanzania) [thru 8.4]

Feast Days

Abgar V of Edessa (Syrian Church)

Alan Moore (Australian War Artist; Artology)

Aled (a.k.a. Eiluned or Almedha; Christian; Martyr & Virgin)

Alphonsus Maria de' Liguori (Christian; Saint)

Æthelwold of Winchester (Christian; Saint)

Bernard Võ Văn Duệ (Christian; One of Vietnamese Martyrs)

Betty Lou’s Dad (Muppetism)

Cartoon Day (Pastafarian)

Chantal Montellier (Artology)

David Gemmell (Writerism)

Day of the Dryads (Macedonia)

Dormition Fast (Orthodox Church) [thru 8.14]

Drug Side-Effects Day (Church of the SubGenius)

Ethelwold of Winchester (Christian; Saint)

Eusebius of Vercelli (Christian; Saint)

Exuperius of Bayeux (Christian; Saint)

Faith, Hope, and Charity (Christian; Virgin Martyrs)

Feast of Faith, Hope, Charity, and their Mother, Wisdom (Christian; Martyrs)

Feast of Kamál (Perfection; Baha'i)

Feast of Ninlil (Sumerian Goddess of the Grain)

Felix of Girona (Christian; Saint)

Festival of Lugh (Celtic here god)

Festival of Xiuhtechuhtli (Aztec God of the Calendar)

Gerhard Hirschfelder (Christian; Blessed)

Herman Melville (Writerism)

The Holy Maccabees (Christian; Saint)

Imps Charity Scramble (Shamanism)

Isobel Lilian Gloag (Artology)

Jackie Ormes (Artology)

James Henry Govier (Artology)

Jan van Scorel (Artology)

Kalends of August (Ancient Rome)

Lammas (a.k.a. ...

Feast of Bread (Neopagan)

Feast of First Fruits (England, Scotland)

Feast of the Wheat Harvest

Festival of Albina (Irish White Barley Goddess; aka Alphito)

Festival of the First Fruits

Gule of August (England, Scotland)

Imbolc (So. Hemisphere; Neopagan)

Lady Day Eve (Neopagan)

Lammas, Day 2 (Celtic, Pagan) [5 of 8 Festivals of the Natural Year]

Lammas Eve (a.k.a. Lughnassad Eve)

Lammas Sabbat

Luanistyn (Manx Gaelic)

Lithasblot (Norse Harvest Festival)

Loaf Mass

Loki and Sigyn’s Day (Norse)

Lugh (Celtic Book of Days)

Lughnasa

Lughnasadh (Grain Harvest) [Ends on Samhain]

Lúnasa (Modern Irish)

Lùnastal (Scottish Gaelic)

Sexon Hlafmaesse

Lobster Boy Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Mati-Syra-Zemlya Day (Slavic Goddess of the Earth)

Pachamama Rayni (Festival Celebrating Mother Earth) [Ecuador; Peru]

Pellegrini (a.k.a. Peregrinus), Hermit (Christian; Saint)

Peter Apostle in Chains (Christian; Saint)

Procession of the Cross and the beginning of Dormition Fast (Eastern Orthodox)

Quarter Day (Scotland)

Richard Wilson (Artology)

Rose Macaulay (Writerism)

Sebastiano Ricci (Artology)

The Spanish Romancers (Positivist; Saints)

Vhrsti (Artology)

Warsan Shire (Writerism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Dismal Day (Unlucky or Evil Day; Medieval Europe; 15 of 24)

Egyptian Day (Unlucky Day; Middle Ages Europe) [15 of 24]

Fatal Day (Pagan) [15 of 24]

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [35 of 60]

Unlucky Monday (when Eve gave birth to Cain; Philippines) [1st Monday] (3 of 4)

Premieres

Alfred, by Thomas Arne (Opera; 1740)

Alice the Peacemaker (Disney Cartoon; 1924)

American Graffiti (Film; 1973)

Bargain Daze (Heckle & Jeckle Cartoon; 1953)

Being and Time, by Martin Heidegger (Book; 1927)

Big Chief No Treaty (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1962)

The Big Money, by John Dos Passos (Novel; 1936)

Burning Love, by Elvis Presley (Song; 1972)

Cape Kidnaveral (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1961)

Charley’s Aunt (Film; 1941)

Cook and Stagger (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1956)

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, by Judi and Ron Barrett (Children’s Book; 1978)

Concert for Bangladesh, hosted by George Harrison (Charity Concert; 1971)

Cosi Fan Tutti Frutti, by Squeeze (Album; 1985)

Cowardly Watchdog (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1966)

Crazy with the Heat (Disney Cartoon; 1947)

Crusader Rabbit (Jay Ward Cartoon TV Series; 1950)

The Dog Show (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1950)

Driven to Extraction (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1963)

Dune, by Frank Herbert (Novel; 1965)

The Dusters, featuring the Mighty Heroes (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1971)

The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, by Tom Wolfe (Novel; 1968)

Eric, by Terry Pratchet (Novel; 1990) [Discworld #9]

Everybody’s Rockin’, by Neil Young (Album; 1983)

The Fabulous Firework Family (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1959)

The Final Countdown (Film; 1980)

Flebus (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1957)

Flight of the Navigator (Film; 1986)

The Four Musicians of Bremen (b Iwerks Cartoon; 1922)

A Game of Thrones, by George R.R. Martin (Novel; 2000) [A Song of Fire and Ice #1]

Gangsta’s Paradise, by Coolio (Song; 1995)

Generals and Majors, by XTC (Song; 1980)

The Genie with the Light Touch (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1972)

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson (Novel; 2008) [Millennium Trilogy #1]

Give Me Liberty (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1967)

Golden Egg Goose (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1951)

Guardians of the Galaxy (Film; 2014)

Heaven Can Wait (Film; 1943)

The Highwayman, by Alfred Noyes (Poem; 1906)

The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Arthur Conan Doyle (Novel; 1901)

House Busters (Heckle & Jeckle Cartoon; 1952)

Howard the Duck (Film; 1986)

How to Catch a Cold (Disney Cartoon; 1951)

Jeremy, by Pearl Jam (Music Video; 1992)

Judo Kudos (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1968)

King Tut’s Tomb (Heckle & Jeckle Cartoon; 1950)

The Littlest Bully (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1960)

The Lyin’ Lion (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1949)

Make Way for Ducklings, by Robert McCloskey (Children’s Book; 1941)

Meat, Drink and Be Merry (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1961)

Modern Man in Search of a Soul, by C.G. Jung (Philosophical Book; 1933)

Money (That’s What I Want), by Barrett Strong (Song; 1959)

The Monkey Wrench Gang, by Edward Abbey (Novel; 1975)

Mrs. Jones’ Rest Farm (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1949)

MTV (Cable Network; 1981)

MySpace (Social Media App; 2003)

96 Tears, by ? and the Mysterians (Song; 1966)

North Dallas Forty (Film; 1979)

Nothing in Common (Film; 1986)

Oil Through the Day (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1964)

Open House (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1953)

Paul Bunyan (Disney Cartoon; 1958)

Porky the Rain-Maker (WB LT Cartoon; 1936)

Pride of the Yard (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1954)

Rain Dogs, by Tom Waits (Album; 1985)

Rear Window (Film; 1954)

Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier (novel; 1938)

The Road Not Taken (Poem; 1925)

Robots in Toyland (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1965)

Rule Britannia, by Thomas Arne (Song; 1740)

Señorella and the Glass Huarache (WB LT Cartoon; 1964)

Shadows on the Rock, by Willa Cather (Novel; 1931)

Shootin’ Stars (Modern Madcaps Cartoon; 1960)

Shotgun Shambles (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1962)

Sick, Sick Sidney (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1958)

The Snows of Kilimanjaro, by Ernest Hemingway (Short Story; 1936)

Steel Wheels, by The Rolling Stones (Album; 1989)

Superiority, by Arthur C. Clarke (Short Story; 1951)

A Swiss Miss (Mighty Mouse Cartoon; 1950)

The 39 Steps (Film; 1935)

Tot Watchers (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1958)

Trouble in Baghdad (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1963)

Truant Officer Donald (Disney Cartoon; 1941)

The Trumpet of the Swan, by E.B. White (Children’s Book; 1970)

Turning the Fables (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1960)

The Twist, by Chubby Checker (Song; 1960)

Video Killed the Radio Star, by The Buggles (Music Video; 1981)

A Wedding Knight (Modern Madcaps Cartoon; 1966)

The Wiggles, by The Wiggles (Album; 1991)

Wild and Woolly Hare (WB LT Cartoon; 1959)

Witchy Woman, by The Eagles (Song; 1972)

Today’s Name Days

Alfons, Kenneth, Peter (Austria)

Alfonz, Jonatan (Croatia)

Oskar (Czech Republic)

Maira, Maire, Mairi, Maris (Estonia)

Maire (Finland)

Alphonse (France)

Alfons, Kenneth, Peter, Uwe (Germany)

Efkleos, Elesa, Markelos, Solomoni (Greece)

Boglárka (Hungary)

Alfonso, Giacomo (Italy)

Albīna, Albīns, Dags, Jarmuts, Spekonis (Latvia)

Almeda, Bartautas, Bartautė (Lithuania)

Peder, Petra (Norway)

Brodzisław, Justyn, Konrad, Konrada, Nadia, Piotr (Poland)

Božidara (Slovakia)

Alfonso, Caridad, Esperanza, Fe, Pedro (Spain)

Per (Sweden)

Charissa, Charity, Chasity, Cheri, Cherie, Cherry, Cheryl, Esperanza, Faith, Faye, Hope, Nadia, Nadine (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 214 of 2024; 152 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of Week 31 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 27 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Xin-Wei), Day 27 (Ding-You)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 26 Tammuz 5784

Islamic: 25 Muharram 1446

J Cal: 4 Purple; Foursday [4 of 30]

Julian: 19 July 2024

Moon: 8%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 17 Dante (8th Month) [The Spanish Romancers]

Runic Half Month: Thorn (Defense) [Day 9 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 43 of 94)

Week: 1st Week of August

Zodiac: Leo (Day 11 of 31)

Calendar Changes

August (Gregorian Calendar) [Month 8 of 12]

#Holidays

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myveryownfanfiction · 2 years ago

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18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @eclecticwildflowers

Warnings: mention of vietnam war, past injuries, swearing

AN: happy Memorial Day to those who celebrate!

“interview today?” I asked as I laid against elias. He nodded. I absentmindedly ran one of his dog tags through the chain and back. He hummed at the noise and leaned into me further. Giggling, I gave them a gentle tug and he leaned down to kiss me. “It appears as if Pavlov was right.” I laughed when he pulled away.

“huh?” He asked. I laughed again, eyes shining bright as he groaned and draped a hand over his face. “Too early for this shit (y/n).” He groaned.

“He trained a dog to salivate when he heard a whistle. It appears I have you trained to kiss me when I tug on these.” I tugged on the dog tags again and Elias turned his head towards me. I laughed as he grumbled.

“I’m not a damn dog.” He grumbled before turning to kiss me. “Fucking damn.” I laughed as I ran my fingers through his hair.

“sorry sergeant.” I giggled.

“things you do to me sweetheart.” Groaning, elias got up and headed into the bathroom to shower while I got up to start breakfast. He trailed down the stairs, attempting to do up his tie. “Could you…” he trailed off as I came over and started doing it for him. “Thank you.” He whispered. I nodded before kissing him on the cheek.

“Anytime.” I shrugged as I watched him take off the dog tags and put them on top of the microwave before sitting down. A shadow passed my face before I forced down the feelings the action gave me.

“I’ll be home by lunch.” He promised after breakfast. “Maybe we can go see a movie?” I nodded as I leaned my head back so he could kiss me.

“I’ll check and see what is playing.” I agreed. Elias hummed before kissing me again.

“see? no dog tags.” He teased before heading towards the door. “I love you!” He called before leaving.

“love you too!” I called before the door shut. Getting up, I grabbed the dishes left on the table before putting them in the sink. I started running the water, leaning against the counter as I waited for hot water to start running.

My eyes landed on Elias’ dog tags before walking over. I picked them up and ran my thumb over them. There was a chip in the edge from where it cracked when he was shot. I gently ran my nail over it and took a deep breath. The scar sat right between where his ribs met. Terrified me every time I looked at it or ran my fingers over it. Sighing and trying to push away the image of the scars that littered his torso, I threw the chain over my head. The tags hung low but clinked when I moved. The sound soothed me in a way I couldn’t explain. Turning back to the sink, I washed our dishes and moved on to checking for showtimes. The door opening and closing drew my attention back.

“(Y/N)?” Elias called out. His voice broke slightly and I dropped the paper I was reading to run out to him. I froze when I saw him; hair disheveled, tie undone, shirt untucked.

“elias.” I breathed out as I ran to him and hugged him tight. He took a shuddering breath as he buried his face in my neck. I ran a hand through his hair as he breathed deeply. “Bad day?” I whispered. He nodded and hugged me closer to him.

“yeah.” He breathed out. “They pulled my service record.” I let out a sigh. Even though there was nothing in there, elias was a risk to hire simply because he fought in country and because of the seriousness of his wounds. No one wanted to take the chance and hire him. Either worried about their image for hiring a vietnam vet or that there were underlying health concerns that Elias didn’t even know about that they’d have to pay for. “Maybe I should just give up. Let you become the breadwinner.” He sighed. I laughed as I pulled away from him.

“me? And what are you going to do all day when I’m gone mister?” I cupped Elias’ cheeks and squeezed gently. “Elias, honey, I love you but I do want to come back home to a house. So no I’m not going to become the breadwinner.” He chuckled and gently grabbed my wrists. Pulling my hands off his face, he kissed my knuckles before pressing my hands to his chest.

“what would I do without you?” He smiled weakly at me. His eyes darted over my face before the chain touched his finger. “Are those…why are you…my dog tags.” He stuttered out.

“yeah. You left them on the microwave and I…” elias leaned over and kissed me. “Ok…” I furrowed my eyebrows and searched his face for something while he fingered the chain around my neck. “Maybe it’s the dog tags in general…” I mused to myself. Elias chuckled and tugged on them gently.

“must be.” He chuckled. He kissed me again.

“I can take them off.” I reached up to grab the chain but Elias stopped me.

“I kind of like where they are right now.” he whispered. I nodded and smiled at him.

“you feeling better?” I asked as I turned to lead him to the kitchen.

“yeah.” He mused. “But I don’t think i want to go out again.” I nodded.

“Good. There weren’t any good movies playing anyway.” Elias laughed.

#elias grodin #elias gordin x reader #elias gordin fanfic #Elias gordin fanfiction #Elias gordin imagine #willem dafoe #willem dafoe fanfic #willem dafoe fanfiction #willem dafoe x reader #willem dafoe imagine

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jonfucius · 2 years ago

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Great Star Trek Rewatch - The Original Series S2

Originally posted on Twitter 26 October 2020 - 2 December 2020

Star Trek: The Original Series Season 2 is up next in my Great Star Trek Rewatch. As with ENT, DSC, STX, and TOS Season 1, mini-reviews will document my progress.

Amok Time: After 29 episodes and some contradictory continuity, we finally get the first concrete details on Mr. Spock and the Vulcan species. A classic fight scene rounds out a strong start to Season 2. 8/10

Who Mourns for Adonais?: A decent early Season 2 entry. The giant green space hand is iconic, but the meat of the story rises above. Thanks to this episode, it became tradition that chief engineers on the starships Enterprise can't catch a break in the romance department. 7/10

The Changeling: A dry run of sorts for the superior Star Trek: The Motion Picture. The second time Kirk talks a computer to death, and it's a slow burn to the climax. 6/10

Mirror, Mirror: One of the most enduring concepts across Trek's 50+ year history is the Mirror Universe. This is still one of the best Mirror Universe tales, simply for its originality and focus. 9/10

The Apple: A Prime Directive debate and some red shirt massacres forms the crux of this otherwise forgettable episode. Definitely not one I'd revist on a whim. Not terrible, just mediocre. 5/10

The Doomsday Machine: This one and "Balance of Terror" jockey back and forth for #1 on my list of the best TOS episodes. William Windom's performance is superb, the titular device is scary (I hid behind the sofa when I watched this one as a kid), and the score is iconic. 10/10

Catspaw: Star Trek and Halloween don't go very well together. Even though this has an ostensibly scientific explanation, it still reeks of magic and sorcery. It is goofy, that's why it gets 4/10.

I, Mudd: This one starts slow but turns into a classic comedy by the end. Carmel is back as Mudd, though the portrayal of his wife is problematic at best. 7/10

Metamorphosis: This poignant love story with a solid sci-fi hook just clicks for me. It’s not the best but it just works. 9/10

Journey to Babel: Season 2 is definitely Spock-focused, and those episodes have not disappointed. This is a classic for good reason: action, pathos, humor, world-building. 10/10

Friday’s Child: Tonal problems keep this one from joining the ranks of the true classics. It’s serviceable but dreadfully slow in the middle. The Capellans are a fascinating race, it’s too bad we don’t see them again. 6/10

The Deadly Years: Impressive 60s aging makeup aside, this one doesn’t do much for me. The old age jokes are stereotypes, though the use of elderly actors in the first act is ingenious. And a rare bit of serialization with a callback to “The Corbomjte Maneuver” is welcome. 6/10

Obsession: Kirk gets some backstory and dimension in a tight, tense script. This is a well-paced acting showcase for Shatner. 9/10

Wolf in the Fold: This would have made for an excellent Halloween episode. A gaseous/energy being is easier to believe than the “Catspaw” transmuter, oddly enough. The line about women being easier to scare, and the Kara dance, are typical ugly 60s sexism, unfortunately. 7/10

The Trouble with Tribbles: A fuzzy thing happens on the way to Sherman’s Planet. A classic that thoroughly earns the title, it’s endlessly rewatchable and filled to the brim with classic gags, one-liners, and scenes for the entire cast. 10/10

The Gamesters of Triskelion: Angelique Pettyjohn’s look is iconic, but not much else about this episode is. A huge letdown after the preceding episode. 5/10

A Piece of the Action: An excellent palate cleanser after the preceding dud. Really wish we could follow up on the Iotians some day. I forgot how funny this episode is. 9/10

The Immunity Syndrome: Season 2 giveth, and Season 2 taketh away. The concept of a spaceborne lifeform is compelling, but this is otherwise a dog of a show. 4/10

A Private Little War: when the show tackles the Vietnam allegory, it sings. When it focuses on Nona, it falters under the weight of 60s’ sexism and bigotry. 7/10

Return to Tomorrow: A different take on the non-corporeal beings trope that hangs around TOS like an albatross, this one is more nuanced and subtle than most. Come for Nimoy’s delightful villain performance, stay for the poignant denouement. 8/10

Patterns of Force: An examination of how easy it is for a society to fall in love with fascism misses the mark by claiming power and not racism was the animus of Nazism, much like Confederate apologists claim the Civil War was about rights and not slavery. 0/10

By Any Other Name: The Kelvans’ powers are frightening, but it’s an episode I just can’t get excited about, except for Scotty drinking one under the table. 6/10

The Omega Glory: Gene, your über-patriotism is showing. Another late Season 2 letdown. 3/10

The Ultimate Computer: TOS has a serious distrust of powerful computers/AI that fades somewhat in the later series. Daystrom is a tragic figure, and the horror of the murder of the Excalibur’s crew is effectively conveyed. 8/10

Bread and Circuses: The social commentary is on point, but two parallel Earth stories in three weeks is somewhat tiresome. Still, an entertaining yarn. 7/10

Assignment: Earth: I’m ambivalent on this back door pilot. I like the Gary Seven character, and I normally enjoy time travel stories, but it just doesn’t do a whole lot for me. It’s not excellent, it’s not bad, it just is. 6/10

And with that, Season 2 of TOS comes to an end in my Great Star Trek Rewatch. Final score: 6.77/10. Highest score(s): "The Doomsday Machine," "Journey to Babel," "The Trouble with Tribbles." Lowest score(s): "Patterns of Force"

#star trek #star trek tos #great star trek rewatch

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casbooks · 2 years ago

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Books of 2023

Book 35 of 2023

Title: The Frost Weeds: Vietnam: 1964-1965 Authors: James Oliveri ISBN: 9781555717612 Tags: A-1 Skyraiders AUS ADF Australian Defence Force AUS Australia B-57 Canberra Buddhism (Religion) C-123 Provider C-7 Caribou CH-34 Choctaw FRA France LAO Laos LAO Laotian Civil War (1959-1975) LAO Pathet Lao LAO Prime Minister Souvanna Phouma LAO Prince Souvanna Phouma LAO RLA 33rd Laotian Elephant Bn LAO RLA Royal Laotian Army LAO RLAF Royal Lao Air Force Nungs O-1 Bird Dog SpecOps U-1 Otter US Ambassador Maxwell Taylor US CIA Central Intelligence Agency US Medal Of Honor US President Lyndon B. Johnson US Raymond Burr (Actor) US USA 1st Cavalry Division US USA 86th Engineer Bn US USA Col Roger Donlon (MOH) US USA Fort Dix NJ US USA Fort Dix NJ - Intermediate Speed Radio Operators Course (ISROC) US USA General Paul D. Harkins US USA General William Westmoreland US USA United States Army US USA USSF 5th SFG US USA USSF 7th SFG US USA USSF Green Berets US USA USSF Special Forces US USA USSF Team A-113 US USA USSF Team A-323 US USA USSF Team A-726 US USMC 9th MEB US USMC United States Marine Corps US USN 7th Fleet US USN United States Navy US USN USS Maddox (DD-731) US USN USS Ticonderoga (CV-14) US USN USS Turner Joy (DD-951) US USO United Service Organizations VNM 1968 Tet Offensive (1968) (Vietnam War) VNM A Louie Airstrip VNM A Shau Special Forces Camp (Vietnam War) VNM A Shau Valley VNM AUS ADF Australian Army Training Team (Vietnam War) VNM Battle of Hue City (1968) (Tet Offensive) (Vietnam War) VNM Battle of Nam Dong CIDG Camp (1964) (Vietnam War) VNM Cam Lo VNM Central Highlands VNM Cholon VNM Con Thien VNM Cua Viet VNM Da Lat VNM Da Nang VNM Da Nang - Red Beach Base Area (Vietnam War) VNM Da Nang Air Base VNM DMZ Demilitarized Zone - 17th Parallel (Vietnam War) VNM Dong Ap Bia VNM Dong Ha VNM Dong Hoi VNM Dong Nai River VNM DRV NVA Col Bui Tin (Engineer) VNM DRV NVA Col Dong Si Nguyen (Minister of Construction) VNM DRV NVA North Vietnamese Army VNM DRV VC Viet Cong VNM FRA Felix Poilane (Plantation Owner) VNM Gio Linh VNM Gulf of Tonkin Incident (1964) (Vietnam War) VNM Highway 1 VNM Highway 14 VNM Highway 548 VNM Highway 9 VNM Ho Chi Minh Trail (Vietnam War) VNM Hue VNM Hue - Business District VNM Hue - Capitol Building VNM Hue - Cercle Sportif VNM Hue - Duy Tan St VNM Hue - Hue Stadium VNM Hue - Hue University VNM Hue - Joan of Arc Cathedral VNM Hue - Le Loi St VNM Hue - Nguyen Hoang Bridge VNM Hue - Perfume River VNM Hue - Public Health and Hospital Complex VNM Hue - Tay Loc Airfield (Vietnam War) VNM Hue - The Citadel VNM Hue - Tran Cao Van St VNM Hue - Tran Hung Dao St VNM I Corps (Vietnam War) VNM Ia Drang Valley VNM III Corps (Vietnam War) VNM Lang Troi VNM Lang Vei VNM Lang Vei Special Forces Camp (Vietnam War) VNM Montagnard - Bru VNM Montagnards VNM Montagnards - Katu VNM Nam Dong VNM Nam Dong Special Forces Camp (Vietnam War) VNM Nha Trang VNM Operation Flaming Dart (1965) (Vietnam War) VNM Operation Ranch Hand (1962-1971) (Vietnam War) VNM Operation Rolling Thunder (1965-1968) (Vietnam War) VNM Phu Bai VNM Pleiku VNM Quang Tri VNM Quang Tri Province VNM Rao Lao River VNM Rao Quang River VNM Red River VNM RVN ARVN 1st ID VNM RVN ARVN 2nd Regiment VNM RVN ARVN 2nd Regiment - 3/2 VNM RVN ARVN 36th Ranger Bn VNM RVN ARVN 3rd Regiment VNM RVN ARVN 3rd Regiment - 3/3 VNM RVN ARVN Army of the Republic of Vietnam VNM RVN ARVN CIDG Civilian Irregular Defense Group VNM RVN ARVN General Nguyen Chanh Thi VNM RVN ARVN LLDB Luc Luong Dac Biet Special Forces VNM RVN ARVN MP Quan Canh Military Police VNM RVN ARVN Nam Dong CIDG Camp VNM RVN ARVN Vietnamese Rangers - Biet Dong Quan VNM RVN General Duonh Van Minh (Big Minh) VNM RVN Nguyen Cao Ky VNM RVN Nguyen Khanh VNM RVN RVNP Can Sat National Police VNM RVN SVNAF South Vietnamese Air Force VNM RVN Tran Van Huong VNM Saigon VNM Saigon - Brinks Hotel VNM Saigon - Brinks Hotel Bombing (1964) VNM Saigon - Capital Hotel VNM Saigon - Tu Do St (Rue Catinat) VNM Som Bai VNM Ta Bat VNM Ta Bat Airfield VNM Ta Rau VNM Tan Son Nhut Air Base VNM Thua Thien Province VNM Tonkin Gulf VNM US Agent Orange (Vietnam War) VNM US MAAG Advisory Team 3 (Vietnam War) VNM US MAAG Military Assistance Advisory Group Vietnam (Vietnam War) VNM US MACV Advisory Team 3 (Vietnam War) VNM US MACV Advisory Teams (Vietnam War) VNM US MACV Military Assistance Command Vietnam (Vietnam War) VNM US USMC KSCB Khe Sanh Combat Base (Vietnam War) VNM US USSF Mobile Strike Force (MIKE) (Vietnam War) VNM Vietnam VNM Vietnam War (1955-1975) Rating: ★★★★★ (5 Stars) Subject: Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.ARVN, Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.Specops.ARVN, Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.Specops.Green Berets, Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.US Army.Advisor

Description: During the early years of the Vietnam War, a small group of American soldiers carried the fight to the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese Army, often under difficult circumstances. Their sacrifices generally went unrecognized and unappreciated by a mostly indifferent nation. But a massive influx of American troops would soon alter the entire nature and perception of the war. THE FROST WEEDS graphically describes the horror, the heroism and even the humor of the Vietnam experience while offering a far different perspective of the war than that epitomized by the larger conflict that followed. It is an astonishing account of a small U.S. military advisory team struggling to deal with a ruthless enemy and an often exasperating ally.

Review: This was an excellent book by an excellent author. He was able to craft a good narrative and understood pacing and flow which is rare for many of these books. The tales he told of the early years of the vietnam war, the 64/65 period, of what it was like at Ta Bat, A Shau, and Khe Sanh, his explorations of Hue, and the battle of Nam Dong were well done and gave you a really good sense of who was there, what happened, and what the experience was like being an Advisor radioman attached to an ARVN unit.

#Books #Ebooks #Booklr #Bookblr #Vietnam War #Vietnam #History #Military History #Non Fiction #ARVN #US Army #Nam Dong

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mwsa-member · 4 months ago

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MWSA Interview with Charles A. Stewart

Date of interview: 4 January 2025

Charles A. Stewart is a Novelist, Shooting Instructor, and a 26-year decorated combat veteran of Desert Storm and the Global War on Terror, with multiple deployments to the Middle East and Central Asia as a sniper. Charles has a BS from Austin Peay University. After retiring as an Operations Sergeant Major Charles continued to serve his country as a High- Threat Diplomatic Security Specialist with government agencies globally. Charles retired in 2017 due to complications of previous wounds received while in uniform.

Charles has served his entire career in the Airborne Infantry, Special Operations, and Calvary Scout occupations. He served with President Bush Jr.’s Security Detail after 911 as a counter-sniper.

His military decorations include Combat Infantryman Badge w/ Star, Airborne Badge, Air Assualt Badge, Pathfinder Badge, Bronze Star Medal w/ V device and Oak Leaf Cluster, Meritorious Medal w/ Three Oak Leaf Clusters, Army Accommodation Medal w/ Three Oak Leaf Clusters, Army Achievement Medal w/ Silver & Bronze Oak Leaf Clusters, German Shooting Badge (Silver), French Commando Badge, among others.

He has received many awards from Sniper Competitions and his community, including Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) and Daughters of the Revolution (DAR). Charles is 100% disabled through the VA and is a service dog recipient and former Smoky Mountain Service Dogs board member.

When he isn’t writing, Charles does public speaking events for charities about his story, helping other military veterans/ first responders, woodworking, painting, and shooting instruction.

MWSA: How did you find out about MWSA?

Charles A. Stewart: I wanted to reach my book’s broadest audience possible, especially veterans. I never really thought about awards for my writing. Honestly, I didn’t know if I was good enough initially, but like all things, if you stay with it and work hard enough, you get better. My writing has evolved so much. I am always trying to improve in my craft. When I looked for veteran book organizations, MWSA popped up—after reading about the organization, researching some of the benefits, and reading about some of the authors, I wanted to be part of the organization. Submitting my book for a potential award is a bonus.

MWSA: What was your inspiration for your book Sky Thunder

Charles A. Stewart: I have been diagnosed with Severe PTSD and Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), among a slew of other things, mentally and physically, due to wounds received in combat and Diplomatic Security. At one point in my life, I was in a dark place. I knew I had to do something to win this battle, or I would succumb to those demons. My wife, who, by the way, has been my best friend since 5th grade, and my daughter coaxed me into journaling to battle some memory loss and PTSD. My wife knew how creative I was with art growing up. She slowly got me to draw and paint. While I was doing that, I think she saw me journaling more. I knew as I wrote I was getting more creative. I genuinely believe it unlocks so much that I suppressed. When Covid hit, I thought I might write a book. To stay busy, I researched how to write a book, outlined it, and, within 90 days, finished my first novel, Cry of the Eagle. My New release, Sky Thunder, is the sequel.

MWSA: Where are any family members from the military?

Charles A. Stewart: I have traced my family history to the Knights Templars and the Crusades. My ancestors have fought in every major war for America. The Revolutionary War, my family lost four ancestors at Gettysburg during the Civil War. We have continued to defend our country since then. My grandfather was in the invasion of Guadalcanal during WWII and the Pacific Island Campaign. He was also a veteran of the Korean and Vietnam War as a Navy Corpsman. My grandmother drove military tanks onto the boats for the European Theatre. My great-uncle survived three ships being torpedoed and sunk. My dad was in Army Communications during the Cuban Missile Crisis. I come from a long line of veterans.

MWSA: What made you choose your genre’?

Charles A. Stewart: Well, I feel writing something you know or experienced allows you to be more creative. Writing about the military, soldiers, and the brotherhood that the Army and combat create, I felt it would be easier to write about. I could use this to set me apart from other authors using my real-life experiences in my books. I didn’t want to be labeled in a corner as military fiction only. That is why I added to the story about the CIA and its mission. It gives me more labels to put with my writing. Adult Thriller, Commercial, Action-Adventure, Military/ Espionage. I can also be more creative with my stories.

MWSA: What are your books about?

Charles A. Stewart: Cry of the Eagle and my new release, Sky Thunder, are part of the Colt Hawkins series and reveal stories of the men and women of one of the world’s most elite and secretive para-military organizations. Special Activities Division of the CIA, Former Tier One Operator Colt Hawkins is gritty, intelligent, honorable, battle-tested, and devoted to his fellow operators and his country, who are frequently put in harm’s way by the evils of the world.

MWSA: Are the characters in your novel based on historical figures?

Charles A. Stewart: No, however, Many of my characters are real people I know or have worked with. Some are friends I grew up with that have a badass real-life background. Some backgrounds are fictional. For the most part, I used their real names with their permission, but for some, we had to change their names for security and safety. My job as the author is to ensure the reader can’t tell what is real or fictional.

MWSA: What writing projects are you working on these days?

Charles A. Stewart: I am still learning the ins and outs of promoting my new release, Sky Thunder. It is an everyday battle for me on that. However, my editor and I are in the final editing stages of my third book, Rogue Vengeance (75k words), and I am finishing up my fourth book, The Price of Freedom (100k words). Both are future additions to the Colt Hawkins Series.

MWSA: Is there anything else you want to add?

Charles A. Stewart: Yes, I ask you to please join my website; there, you can find direct links to my books and, starting this year, more background and insight about me and my characters. https://www.charlesstewartauthor.com/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0CTYRK9BB/about

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khawthorneofficial · 8 months ago

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Ethics of the Military- an essay

Final essay for Writing 122. Fair warning, this was an argumentative assignment, not informative, so it has a lot of my own beliefs in it.

"When I was in the military, they gave me a medal for killing two men and a discharge for loving one." ~Tombstone of gay Vietnam veteran Leonard Matlovich (1943-1988)

You walk out of the mall with your friends on a sunny day, laughing and joking. You have drinks and snacks, and shopping bags full of your scores in your arms. As you walk down the sidewalk, you spot an elderly man sitting on the curb. He looks like he hasn't bathed in a while, and he's accompanied by a yellow lab in a service dog vest. Upon looking closer, you see he has a prosthetic leg. He holds a flimsy cardboard sign in his hands. Written on it in thick black sharpie are the words Homeless Disabled Veteran- Anything helps. As you pass, he holds out his grimy ballcap. Feeling pity for him, you fish a ten-dollar bill out of your wallet and drop it into the hat. He smiles at you with yellowing teeth and says, "God bless." As you walk away, though, you feel a guilty sensation in the pit of your stomach. You wish you could have done more.

We all know that the United States has a major homelessness problem, but did you know that out of a homeless population of over 630,000, 1 in 10 are military veterans? The institution of the military doesn't always pay people back by setting them up to thrive after their service is done. Militaries as we know them have been around for centuries, and certain forms of similar institutions date as far back as history itself goes, and many people see a military as a necessary institution. But is it? The institution of the military has many ethical problems that cause both physical and mental harm to both members, and the people caught in the crossfire of their wars. Veterans are abandoned by the system as soon as they are no longer able to serve, certain people are never given the chance, and war takes a tremendous toll on both soldiers and victims.

The first military as we know it was the Order of St. George, founded in Hungary in 1326, but armies for the sake of fighting wars can be traced as far back as ancient Mesopotamia, which is also the earliest recorded civilization, going back as far as 5,000-8,000 BCE, though the exact number varies depending on the source. For as long as humankind has had civilized society, we've been fighting wars. From the black blood-stained fields of Homer's Iliad, a fictionalized account of the probably-historical Trojan War, to the desolate trenches of World War 1, to the conflict taking place between Russia and Ukraine right now, war seems to be an inescapable human experience. As such, countries have naturally developed forces to fight them for us. But, contrary to what some people believe, it's far from a perfect system, and if you look into it enough, you begin to see that the good outweighs the bad. Most people currently and formerly enlisted in militaries are genuinely good people, but that's just what makes the institution itself so heinous and despicable.

It's no secret that our society has always been very patriarchal. Ergo, for centuries, social institutions like armies and militaries only permitted men to be members. Nowadays, most militaries allow women to join, but the standards are still different. For instance, women are not required to sign up for the draft when they turn 18 like men are. But women aren't the only group militaries have historically discriminated against. Prior to Abraham Lincoln's emancipation proclamation in 1863, African American men were not allowed to serve in the US military. However, in case anyone thinks discrimination in the military is a thing of the past, remember that only 6 years ago in 2017, then-president Donald Trump passed a law that would bar transgender individuals from serving in the military. However, fortunately, in 2021, current president Joe Biden lifted said ban, allowing trans people to serve again. There have also been multiple harsh policies about gay people's involvement in the military. The quote at the beginning of this essay is engraved on the tombstone of Leonard Matlovich, a man who fought in the Vietnam War as a member of the US Air Force. During his time in the military, he earned high honors in the form of a Bronze Star and Purple Heart, but was ultimately discharged from the Air Force after 12 years of dedicated service simply for disclosing that he was gay. He would go on to become a champion of the gay rights movement, but ultimately died in 1988 due to complications related to AIDS.

Discrimination is not the only problem with the military. Service, especially in active war zones, can take an enormous physical and mental toll on survivors. In a study conducted in 2022, a whopping 76% of surveyed US veterans stated that they suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. This is a disturbing amount compared to the just 5% of normal Americans who struggle with the disorder as of 2023. PTSD is a relatively new term. Around the time of World War I, conditions that would surely lend themselves to a PTSD diagnosis were known colloquially as "shell shock" and "war neruroses", as at the time they were solely associated with war veterans. This thinking continued to World War II, albeit with "shell shock" being replaced by the term "Combat Stress Reaction" or CSR for short. The condition was not dubbed Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder until 1980 in the DSM-III, after research revealed that the psychological disorder could affect those who had suffered non-battle forms of trauma, such as sexual assault and traumatic accidents.

One place in which you can always look to for an idea of the horrors of wartime are accounts written during or about the first World War by those who fought on either side. While there are many poems, songs, and books attempting to glorify and romanticize the war, there are also many that employ the true horror. Such pieces include British poet Wilfred Owen's works, such as Anthem for Doomed Youth and Dulce et Decorum est and the book All Quiet on the Western Front, a fictionalized, semi-autobiographical account written after the end of the war by German veteran Erich Maria Remarque. The latter has been turned into several movies, with versions released in 1930, 1979, and 2022. (I watched part of the 1979 version as part of my study for this essay.) Anthem for Doomed Youth is a tragic meditation on all of the innocent young lives lost to a war they thought would bring them glory and fame, while Dulce et Decorum est is a harrowing and haunting account of what it was like to live through a gas attack, written about a real one that Owen himself was caught in, and aptly describing the brutal memories and flashbacks that followed. All Quiet on the Western Front, however, tells the story of a class of schoolboys who were convinced by their teacher to join the army and are brutally killed one by one. Depressingly enough, the plot of the book was largely inspired by Remarque's own experience in the military during the great war. In the video Modern Classics Summarized: All Quiet on the Western Front by YouTube Channel Overly Sarcastic Productions, narrator Red employs a "War is Hell" counter in one corner of the screen while she talks about the book and footage from the 1979 movie plays. Tellingly enough, by the end of the review, it has reached 54.

Another similar poem from the same era is Glory of Women by Siegfried Sassoon. While the overall concept of the poem is more than a little misogynistic, implying that women shallowly romanticize and glorify war, while men suffer the consequences, it does happen to have some excellent anti-war lines. "O German mother dreaming by the fire, While you are knitting socks to send your son, His face is trodden deeper in the mud." (Sassoon, Glory of Women. 13-15.) If you take this line at face value, there is something almost comforting about it. Sassoon was an Englishman, and thus in writing this part, he shows some sympathy for this other side- while the tone of the rest of the poem make it clear that he is mocking the oblivious mother for thinking her son would live, he is portraying the son's death as a negative.

As recent as the concept of PTSD is, trauma from war has been known for a long time, so long that what we might now diagnose as this disorder appears as far back as the plays and epics of the Trojan Cycle, some of the oldest literature in existence. Particularly in Homer's Odyssey, we see Odysseus, Menelaus, and other veterans of the Trojan War are still grappling with the reality of what happened in Troy even ten years later. At one point it is even mentioned that Helen, wife of Menelaus, has to drug her husband to prevent him from being overwhelmed by brutal flashbacks of the war. This is a testament to the adverse mental effects the decade-long Trojan War has on those who fought in it. Also in the Odyssey, we see Odysseus in disguise break down when a song about the Trojan War is played in the hall he is dining in. This incident is ultimately what causes him to reveal his true identity to his hosts, so it's safe to say that even this cunning hero has been shaken by the horrors of war. Even back then, people knew war wasn't always something to romanticize.

There is also the matter of POWs, or prisoners of war. Many military veterans who were held captive during wars such as the Vietnam war or Korean war still hold a lot of trauma from those situations. Rather recently, news channel CNN interviewed two former POWs who had been captured in Vietnam. One of the men, Staff Seargent Ken Wallingford was crammed into a 5-by-six "tiger cage". (The particular article makes it unclear whether it was a cage actually designed to house tigers or if it was just called that, but a quick Google search reveals the latter). No actual tigers were kept inside with Wallingford, although that didn't make the experience any more pleasant. Wallingford reportedly spent ten months inside the cramped cage. At 5 feet 11 inches tall, he was unable to even stand up in the tiny space. His comrade, Mark Smith, was captured at the same base and endured even worse conditions. Smith was forced to stay inside a hole in the ground, with any protection from the elements he was allowed rotting around him. He ended up contracting two different types of malaria from the mosquitoes he was left at the mercy of, and was lucky to make it back to the US alive.

Most people who enlist in the military or go off to war have genuinely good intentions. They're brave, selfless people who want to give their life to protecting their country and people. They aren't the problem. The institution of the military, however, is. It's perfectly fine to have National Guard officers out in the community, giving people their Covid shots, but when it comes to wartime, the military as an institution has no problem throwing these young people's lives away, and coming back to the statistics of homeless veterans in the US, leaving them by the wayside when they can no longer serve the cause. We are taught that it's a form of glory, the ultimate perhaps, to sacrifice ourselves for our countries and the nebulous concept of patriotism. "My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori." (Owen, Dulce et Decorum est. 25-28). The Latin phrase at the end of this particular Wilfred Owen poem, from which the title is taken, translates to "it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country." This very ideology is part of why the military as an institution is highly unethical in its expectations of members.

One counterargument that might be brought up in response to these statements is the fact that if military institutions were done away with, we would have no one to fight for us when wars break out. However, perhaps without militaries, there wouldn't be as many wars to fight. There are 15 total countries without official militaries, including Lichtenstein and the Marshall Islands, and several more with unofficial institutions but no proper armed forces, including Mauritius. Many of these countries still do have treaties with others in the case that they do require assistance in a wartime situation, but the system seems to have worked, with these countries staying out of those kinds of conflicts.

Ultimately, while having a military can be useful in some cases, the system is very flawed, and in a better world we wouldn't have to put up with those problems- and maybe we don't in this one either. Militaries pretend to care about their members, but throw their lives away nonchalantly and cast them by the wayside when they decide that they've served their purpose. Is it really worth it?

Works Cited:

Leonardmatlovich.Com, www.leonardmatlovich.com/. Accessed 30 May 2023.

Elflein, John. "Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder during Service after 9/11 among Veterans U.S. 2022." Statista, 19 Apr. 2023, www.statista.com/statistics/1202701/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-during-service-after-911-by-problem-veterans/.

"How Common Is PTSD in Adults?" Va.Gov: Veterans Affairs, 13 Sept. 2018, www.ptsd.va.gov/understand/common/common_adults.asp#:~:text=About%205%20out%20of%20every,some%20point%20in%20their%20life.

Starger, Martin, et al. All Quiet on the Western Front. CBS, 1979.

Overly Sarcastic Productions, Modern Classics Summarized, all quiet on the Western Front

"History of PTSD in Veterans: Civil War to DSM-5." Va.Gov: Veterans Affairs, 17 Aug. 2018, www.ptsd.va.gov/understand/what/history_ptsd.asp#:~:text=In%20World%20War%20II%2C%20the,became%20battle%20weary%20and%20exhausted.

Homer, The Odyssey

Homer, The Iliad

Owen, Wilfred. Anthem for Doomed Youth

Owen, Wilfred. Dulce et Decorum Est

Sassoon, Siegfried. Glory of Women

Lendon, Brad. "One of These Vietnam War Pows Spent 10 Months in a 'tiger Cage.' What Happened to the Other Was Even Worse." CNN, 29 May 2023, www.cnn.com/2023/05/29/asia/vietnam-cambodia-pow-50-years-reunion-intl-hnk-ml/index.html.

"List of Countries without Armed Forces." Wikipedia, 7 May 2023, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_without_armed_forces.

#essay #writing

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brookston · 10 months ago

Text

Holidays 8.1

Holidays

African Emancipation Day (Trinidad and Tobago)

Air Force Day

Armed Forces Day (China, Lebanon)

Azerbaijani Language and Alphabet Day

Basil Day (French Republic)

Battle of Athens Day

Bitcoin Independence Day

Caribbean Day

Chopsticks Day

Clergy Sexual Abuse Awareness and Prevention Day

Cross-Quarter Day

Cycle to Work Day (UK)

Day of Azerbaijani Language and Alphabet

Day of Pachamama (Peru)

Day of the Rear Services of the Armed Forces (Russia)

Day of the Telephone Operator (Mexico)

DOGust

Earth Overshoot Day 2024 (a.k.a. Ecological Debt Day) [ website ]

Ectopic Pregnancy Awareness Day

801 Day

Emancipation Day (UK; British Commonwealth)

Freedom Day (Belize)

Freedom to Marry Day (Minnesota)

Friendship Day

Gold Star Children’s Day

Girlfriends’ Day

Good Sportsmanship Day

Grain Marketing Freedom Day (Canada)

Guca Brass Bands Day (Serbia)

Harriet Quimby Day

HitchBOT Remembrance Day

Homowo (a.k.a. Hooting at Hunger; Ghana)

Indigenous Peoples Day (Taiwan)

International Adaptive Activity Day

International Can-It-Forward Day

International Childfree Day

International Mahjong Day

International Marine Protected Areas Day

International Sri Lankan Leopard Day

International Woo-Ah Day

Jerry Day

Laa Luanys (Isle of Man)

Laughter Day (Southern California)

Led Zeppelin Day

Liberation of Haile Selassie Day (Rastafari)

Memorial Day for the Victims of World War I (Russia)

Minden Day (UK)

Minority Donor Awareness Day

MTV Day

National Alpaca Day (Peru)

National American Family Day

National Andrew Day

National CBD Day

National Girlfriends Day

National Huddle Ledbetter Day

National Mahjong Day

National Minority Donor Awareness Day

National Mountain Climbing Day

National Non-Parent Day

National Poll Worker Recruitment Day

National Promise to Care Day

National Spritz Day

National Waifu Day

National Warsaw Uprising Remembrance Day (Poland)

National Wedding Day (UK)

National York Day

Odaiba Day

Oxygen Discovery Day

Parents’ Day (Democratic Republic of the Congo; Zaire)

Planner Day

Play Ball Day

Pod Body Day (Portland, Maine)

Respect For Parents Day

RNA Day

Rounds Resounding Day

San Francisco Cable Car Day

Scout Foundation Day

Scout Scarf Day

Social Resistance Day (North Cyprus)

Spider-Man Day

Sports Day

SSN 801 Day

Startup Day Across America

Swiss National Day

Technical Support Worker Day (Russia)

Treida de Santo Domingo de Guzmán (Nicaragua)

Thoroughbred Birthday (Southern Hemisphere)

Victory Day (Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam)

White Rabbit Day

Wipe the Slate Clean Day

Woman Astronomers Day

Women’s Day (Thailand)

World Breastfeeding Day

World Day of Joy

World Fintech Day

World Lung Cancer Day

World Middle Finger Day

World Naked Sailing Day

World Scout Scarf Day

World Wide Web Day

Yaoi Day

Yorkshire Day (England)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Belgian Frites Day (a.k.a. International Day of Belgian Fries)

Homemade Pie Day

International Albariño Day

International Can-It Forward Day

Mars Bar Day

National Nutritional Yeast Day

National Raspberry Cream Pie Day

Old Vine Day

Independence & Related Days

Benin (originally Dahomey; from France, 1960)

Colorado Statehood Day (#38; 1876)

Guadalcanal Province Day (Solomon Islands)

Jennytopia (Declared; 2019) [unrecognized]

Switzerland (a.k.a. Confederation Day; from Holy Roman Empire, 1291)

Toku (Declared; 2014) [unrecognized]

Vodopol (Declared; 2021) [unrecognized]

1st Thursday in August

August Thursday (Anguilla) [1st Thursday]

Emancipation Day (Bermuda; 1st Day of Cup Match) [Thursday before 1st Monday in August]

Kid Lit Art Postcard Day [1st Thursday]

National Dash Cam Day (UK) [1st Thursday]

National IPA Day (f.k.a. International IPA Day) [1st Thursday]

Weekly Holidays beginning August 1 (1st Week of August)

Brat Days (Sheboygan, Wisconsin) [1st Thursday thru Sunday]

Carnaval del Pueblo (London, UK) [1st Week]

International Assistance Dog Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

International Clown Week (thru 8.7)

International Mathematicians Week (thru 8.9)

National Albariño Week (thru 8.5)

National Cleanse Your Skin Week (thru 8.7)

National Fraud Awareness Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

National Minority Donor Awareness Week (thru 8.7)

National Scrabble Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

National Video Game Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

Satchmo Days [begin Thursday nearest 8.4 thru Sunday]

Simplify Your Life Week (thru 8.7)

World Breastfeeding Week (thru 8.7) [1st Week]

Festivals Beginning August 1, 2024

American Cured Meat Championships (Omaha, Nebraska) [thru 8.3]

August is Maine Lobster Month (Statewide, Maine) [thru 8.31]

Bear Lake Raspberry Days Festival (Garden City, Utah) [thru 8.3]

Castlefest (Lisse, Netherlands) [thru 8.4]

Clam Festival (Highlands, New Jersey) [thru 8.3]

Denver Burger Battle (Denver, Colorado)

Eden Corn Festival (Eden, New York) [thru 8.4]

Empire Farm Days (Pompey, New York) [thru 8.3]

Estherville Sweet Corn Days (Estherville, Iowa) [thru 8.4]

Gen Con (Indianapolis, Indiana) [thru 8.4]

Green Gathering (Chepstow, United Kingdom) [thru 8.4]

Houston Restaurant Weeks (Houston, Texas) [thru 9.2]

Katahdin Sheep Show (Mexico, Missouri) [thru 8.3]

Klamath County Fair (Klamath Falls, Oregon) [thru 8.4]

Lollapalooza (Chicago, Illinois) [thru 8.4]

Mammoth Festival of Beers & Bluesapalooza (Mammoth Lakes, California) [thru 8.4]

Mile of Music (Appleton, Wisconsin) [thru 8.4]

Minnesota Fringe Festival (Minneapolis, Minnesota) [thru 8.11]

Mobile Motion Film Festival (Zurich, Swizterland) [thru 8.31]

Official Star Trek Convention (Las Vegas, Nevada) [thru 8.4]

Outer Banks Watermelon Festival (Nag's Head, North Carolina)

Owensville Watermelon Festival (Owensville, Indiana) [thru 8.3]

Phelps Sauerkraut Weekend (Phelps, New York) [thru 8.4

Pol’and’Rock Festival (Woodstock Festival Poland; Czaplinek, Poland) [thru 8.3]

Saint Dominic Days (Managua) [thru 8.10]

Saskatoon Fringe Festival (Saskatoon, Canada) [thru 8.10]

Spicemas (Grenada Carnival; St. George’s, Grenada) [thru 8.13]

Sumner County Fair (Caldwell, Kansas) [thru 8.4]

Toronto Caribbean Carnival (Toronto, Canada) [thru 8.5]

Twin Cities Vegan Chef Challenge (Minneapolis, Minnesota) [thru 8.31]

Washington Wine Month (Washington State) [thru 8.31]

Wisconsin State Fair (West Allis, Wisconsin) [thru 8.11]

World Lumberjack Championships [thru 8.3]

XIT Rodeo & Reunion (Dalhart, Texas) [thru 8.3]

Zanzibar International Film Festival (Zanzibar City, Tanzania) [thru 8.4]

Feast Days

Abgar V of Edessa (Syrian Church)

Alan Moore (Australian War Artist; Artology)

Aled (a.k.a. Eiluned or Almedha; Christian; Martyr & Virgin)

Alphonsus Maria de' Liguori (Christian; Saint)

Æthelwold of Winchester (Christian; Saint)

Bernard Võ Văn Duệ (Christian; One of Vietnamese Martyrs)

Betty Lou’s Dad (Muppetism)

Cartoon Day (Pastafarian)

Chantal Montellier (Artology)

David Gemmell (Writerism)

Day of the Dryads (Macedonia)

Dormition Fast (Orthodox Church) [thru 8.14]

Drug Side-Effects Day (Church of the SubGenius)

Ethelwold of Winchester (Christian; Saint)

Eusebius of Vercelli (Christian; Saint)

Exuperius of Bayeux (Christian; Saint)

Faith, Hope, and Charity (Christian; Virgin Martyrs)

Feast of Faith, Hope, Charity, and their Mother, Wisdom (Christian; Martyrs)

Feast of Kamál (Perfection; Baha'i)

Feast of Ninlil (Sumerian Goddess of the Grain)

Felix of Girona (Christian; Saint)

Festival of Lugh (Celtic here god)

Festival of Xiuhtechuhtli (Aztec God of the Calendar)

Gerhard Hirschfelder (Christian; Blessed)

Herman Melville (Writerism)

The Holy Maccabees (Christian; Saint)

Imps Charity Scramble (Shamanism)

Isobel Lilian Gloag (Artology)

Jackie Ormes (Artology)

James Henry Govier (Artology)

Jan van Scorel (Artology)

Kalends of August (Ancient Rome)

Lammas (a.k.a. ...

Feast of Bread (Neopagan)

Feast of First Fruits (England, Scotland)

Feast of the Wheat Harvest

Festival of Albina (Irish White Barley Goddess; aka Alphito)

Festival of the First Fruits

Gule of August (England, Scotland)

Imbolc (So. Hemisphere; Neopagan)

Lady Day Eve (Neopagan)

Lammas, Day 2 (Celtic, Pagan) [5 of 8 Festivals of the Natural Year]

Lammas Eve (a.k.a. Lughnassad Eve)

Lammas Sabbat

Luanistyn (Manx Gaelic)

Lithasblot (Norse Harvest Festival)

Loaf Mass

Loki and Sigyn’s Day (Norse)

Lugh (Celtic Book of Days)

Lughnasa

Lughnasadh (Grain Harvest) [Ends on Samhain]

Lúnasa (Modern Irish)

Lùnastal (Scottish Gaelic)

Sexon Hlafmaesse

Lobster Boy Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Mati-Syra-Zemlya Day (Slavic Goddess of the Earth)

Pachamama Rayni (Festival Celebrating Mother Earth) [Ecuador; Peru]

Pellegrini (a.k.a. Peregrinus), Hermit (Christian; Saint)

Peter Apostle in Chains (Christian; Saint)

Procession of the Cross and the beginning of Dormition Fast (Eastern Orthodox)

Quarter Day (Scotland)

Richard Wilson (Artology)

Rose Macaulay (Writerism)

Sebastiano Ricci (Artology)

The Spanish Romancers (Positivist; Saints)

Vhrsti (Artology)

Warsan Shire (Writerism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Dismal Day (Unlucky or Evil Day; Medieval Europe; 15 of 24)

Egyptian Day (Unlucky Day; Middle Ages Europe) [15 of 24]

Fatal Day (Pagan) [15 of 24]

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [35 of 60]

Unlucky Monday (when Eve gave birth to Cain; Philippines) [1st Monday] (3 of 4)

Premieres

Alfred, by Thomas Arne (Opera; 1740)

Alice the Peacemaker (Disney Cartoon; 1924)

American Graffiti (Film; 1973)

Bargain Daze (Heckle & Jeckle Cartoon; 1953)

Being and Time, by Martin Heidegger (Book; 1927)

Big Chief No Treaty (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1962)

The Big Money, by John Dos Passos (Novel; 1936)

Burning Love, by Elvis Presley (Song; 1972)

Cape Kidnaveral (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1961)

Charley’s Aunt (Film; 1941)

Cook and Stagger (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1956)

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, by Judi and Ron Barrett (Children’s Book; 1978)

Concert for Bangladesh, hosted by George Harrison (Charity Concert; 1971)

Cosi Fan Tutti Frutti, by Squeeze (Album; 1985)

Cowardly Watchdog (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1966)

Crazy with the Heat (Disney Cartoon; 1947)

Crusader Rabbit (Jay Ward Cartoon TV Series; 1950)

The Dog Show (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1950)

Driven to Extraction (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1963)

Dune, by Frank Herbert (Novel; 1965)

The Dusters, featuring the Mighty Heroes (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1971)

The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, by Tom Wolfe (Novel; 1968)

Eric, by Terry Pratchet (Novel; 1990) [Discworld #9]

Everybody’s Rockin’, by Neil Young (Album; 1983)

The Fabulous Firework Family (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1959)

The Final Countdown (Film; 1980)

Flebus (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1957)

Flight of the Navigator (Film; 1986)

The Four Musicians of Bremen (b Iwerks Cartoon; 1922)

A Game of Thrones, by George R.R. Martin (Novel; 2000) [A Song of Fire and Ice #1]

Gangsta’s Paradise, by Coolio (Song; 1995)

Generals and Majors, by XTC (Song; 1980)

The Genie with the Light Touch (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1972)

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson (Novel; 2008) [Millennium Trilogy #1]

Give Me Liberty (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1967)

Golden Egg Goose (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1951)

Guardians of the Galaxy (Film; 2014)

Heaven Can Wait (Film; 1943)

The Highwayman, by Alfred Noyes (Poem; 1906)

The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Arthur Conan Doyle (Novel; 1901)

House Busters (Heckle & Jeckle Cartoon; 1952)

Howard the Duck (Film; 1986)

How to Catch a Cold (Disney Cartoon; 1951)

Jeremy, by Pearl Jam (Music Video; 1992)

Judo Kudos (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1968)

King Tut’s Tomb (Heckle & Jeckle Cartoon; 1950)

The Littlest Bully (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1960)

The Lyin’ Lion (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1949)

Make Way for Ducklings, by Robert McCloskey (Children’s Book; 1941)

Meat, Drink and Be Merry (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1961)

Modern Man in Search of a Soul, by C.G. Jung (Philosophical Book; 1933)

Money (That’s What I Want), by Barrett Strong (Song; 1959)

The Monkey Wrench Gang, by Edward Abbey (Novel; 1975)

Mrs. Jones’ Rest Farm (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1949)

MTV (Cable Network; 1981)

MySpace (Social Media App; 2003)

96 Tears, by ? and the Mysterians (Song; 1966)

North Dallas Forty (Film; 1979)

Nothing in Common (Film; 1986)

Oil Through the Day (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1964)

Open House (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1953)

Paul Bunyan (Disney Cartoon; 1958)

Porky the Rain-Maker (WB LT Cartoon; 1936)

Pride of the Yard (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1954)

Rain Dogs, by Tom Waits (Album; 1985)

Rear Window (Film; 1954)

Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier (novel; 1938)

The Road Not Taken (Poem; 1925)

Robots in Toyland (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1965)

Rule Britannia, by Thomas Arne (Song; 1740)

Señorella and the Glass Huarache (WB LT Cartoon; 1964)

Shadows on the Rock, by Willa Cather (Novel; 1931)

Shootin’ Stars (Modern Madcaps Cartoon; 1960)

Shotgun Shambles (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1962)

Sick, Sick Sidney (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1958)

The Snows of Kilimanjaro, by Ernest Hemingway (Short Story; 1936)

Steel Wheels, by The Rolling Stones (Album; 1989)

Superiority, by Arthur C. Clarke (Short Story; 1951)

A Swiss Miss (Mighty Mouse Cartoon; 1950)

The 39 Steps (Film; 1935)

Tot Watchers (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1958)

Trouble in Baghdad (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1963)

Truant Officer Donald (Disney Cartoon; 1941)

The Trumpet of the Swan, by E.B. White (Children’s Book; 1970)

Turning the Fables (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1960)

The Twist, by Chubby Checker (Song; 1960)

Video Killed the Radio Star, by The Buggles (Music Video; 1981)

A Wedding Knight (Modern Madcaps Cartoon; 1966)

The Wiggles, by The Wiggles (Album; 1991)

Wild and Woolly Hare (WB LT Cartoon; 1959)

Witchy Woman, by The Eagles (Song; 1972)

Today’s Name Days

Alfons, Kenneth, Peter (Austria)

Alfonz, Jonatan (Croatia)

Oskar (Czech Republic)

Maira, Maire, Mairi, Maris (Estonia)

Maire (Finland)

Alphonse (France)

Alfons, Kenneth, Peter, Uwe (Germany)

Efkleos, Elesa, Markelos, Solomoni (Greece)

Boglárka (Hungary)

Alfonso, Giacomo (Italy)

Albīna, Albīns, Dags, Jarmuts, Spekonis (Latvia)

Almeda, Bartautas, Bartautė (Lithuania)

Peder, Petra (Norway)

Brodzisław, Justyn, Konrad, Konrada, Nadia, Piotr (Poland)

Božidara (Slovakia)

Alfonso, Caridad, Esperanza, Fe, Pedro (Spain)

Per (Sweden)

Charissa, Charity, Chasity, Cheri, Cherie, Cherry, Cheryl, Esperanza, Faith, Faye, Hope, Nadia, Nadine (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 214 of 2024; 152 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of Week 31 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 27 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Xin-Wei), Day 27 (Ding-You)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 26 Tammuz 5784

Islamic: 25 Muharram 1446

J Cal: 4 Purple; Foursday [4 of 30]

Julian: 19 July 2024

Moon: 8%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 17 Dante (8th Month) [The Spanish Romancers]

Runic Half Month: Thorn (Defense) [Day 9 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 43 of 94)

Week: 1st Week of August

Zodiac: Leo (Day 11 of 31)

Calendar Changes

August (Gregorian Calendar) [Month 8 of 12]

#calendar #Holidays

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