#WE DIE LIKE PARATROOPERS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

krastbannert · 5 months ago

Text

The Day of Days: Eighty Years After

It was a brisk summer night, almost like any other June night in England.

The terror of the Blitz was long over. Four years ago, the Battle of Britain long had been won. Two years ago in the Pacific the Americans had shocked the world with impossible victories at Midway and Guadalcanal. A year ago, the last German forces had surrendered in North Africa, and the Communists of the Soviet Union had done the impossible and stopped the German war machine in its tracks at the gates of Stalingrad and Moscow before, finally, turning the tide at Kursk. A month early the British Army in India had stopped the Imperial Japanese Army in its tracks at Kohima Ridge, and for the first time in three years the Japanese were on the run. Just a day before, the American Fifth Army had liberated Rome, freeing the "Eternal City" from fascism after twenty years.

They were winning - just. The war was still going on, ever-present in their minds, but they could sleep soundly under a quiet, friendly sky.

But in the dark, in army camps and airfields and naval bases and offices across the southwest of England, the scene was very different. Men whispered to each other, prayers and jokes, trying to lighten the tension in the air, so thick they could cut it with a knife. John Ford - the famed Hollywood director turned Navy Field Photographic unit captain - supposedly told his wife he was going off for a little local skirmish. And in his private office, Dwight D. Eisenhower - Commander, Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force - typed the resignation he hoped he'd never have to give. If the unthinkable happened, if this gamble failed...they might never get another chance.

All at once, all across the southwest of England, just before midnight, the quiet was shattered by the roar of thousands upon thousands of piston engines, and thousands of men, some barely out of high school, clambered aboard planes and landing craft for a journey into the dark.

Eisenhower penned a short note, and ensured that a copy was given to every single one of the men under his command. It read, very simply:

"You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world."

It was June 6th, 1944, and after three years of begging by Josef Stalin, and a year of intense planning, brutal training, unparalleled deception, and massive buildup, the time had come to do the impossible.

The Allies were going to break the Atlantic Wall, or die trying.

It was a herculean task. The Germans had spent four years preparing for just this day, filling every beach from Cherbourg to Amsterdam with every kind of mine imaginable, dotting Czech hedgehogs and wooden posts tipped with high explosives along the shallow coastlines, and building bunkers with encased machine guns and artillery, pre-sighting mortars and artillery, digging trenches and building tens of thousands of pillboxes, and digging enough anti-aircraft positions to turn night into day. In command was Erwin Rommel, the famed "Desert Fox", a veteran of the brutal World War I Italian front, and one of the best tank commanders in the world who had fought across France and North Africa. Under his command were almost half a million German troops, including battle hardened veterans of France, Africa, and Russia.

Standing against them, over a thousand planes and gliders carrying over 23,000 paratroopers from the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada. Behind them, thousands of fighters and bombers and almost seven thousand landing craft and ships carrying more than 160,000 men from thirteen nations.

The Day of Days began just after midnight.

At 00:48 on June 6th, 1944, the men of the 101st Airborne became the first of to make a terrifying jump into the dark.

It was the beginning of the single largest amphibious invasion ever attempted. Six hours after the paratroopers took the plunge, at 06:30 local time, the first men stumbled onto shore, and into the jaws of death.

Almost immediately, the entire plan fell apart. Fog, cloud cover, a lack of navigators, and brutal anti-aircraft fire forced many pilots to signal the paratroopers to drop outside their assigned zones, mixing units and men and causing absolute chaos on the ground. The weather in the channel was not much better: high seas swamped many of the landing craft and amphibious tanks, and strong currents pushed entire regiments out of their landing zones.

When the men finally made it to the beach, they faced a desperate run across the dreaded shingle: a nearly half-mile expanse of open sand and rock, with no protection at all from the waiting German defenders. Their fire support - the naval vessels waiting offshore, bristling with guns of all calibers - was of little help; the captains refused to close any farther than the extreme ranges for fear of counter fire. And the bad weather in the skies above prevented pilots from accurate close air support.

Over ten thousand men from both sides would have their lives ripped apart on beaches in just that first day.

On Omaha Beach alone, almost two thousand men were killed. Some didn't even get a chance to face the enemy - instead, they simply drowned, their heavy equipment weighing them down into the cold waters of the North Atlantic. The beaches themselves, its said, turned red with blood as men were killed by the dozen. At Gold, Juno, and Sword Beaches, the Canadians and British managed to make it off the beach, only to be forced into fortified towns, where they endured the brutality and chaos of house-to-house urban warfare. At Pointe du Hoc, between Omaha and Utah Beach, the U.S. 2nd Ranger Battalion were forced to scale a one hundred foot cliff under withering enemy fire, only to become totally cut off. When they were finally relieved after two days, only 65 of the original 200 men were left standing, and they were forced to use captured German weapons as theirs ran out of ammunition, resulting in some of their number being killed due to friendly fire.

The paratroopers faired even worse - of the more than 20,000 American paratroopers and aircrew who made the desperate flight across the Channel, it's estimated that more than twelve thousand were killed.

The carnage was unlike anything anyone in the Allied forces had seen before, unlike Operation Torch or El Alamein in North Africa, unlike the Miracle of Dunkirk or the Battle of Britain, unlike Guadalcanal and New Guinea, unlike Salerno, Anzio, and Sicily.

For this untold sacrifice, this bloody hell that almost two hundred thousand men endured, they had only managed to capture a few square miles, only two of five beaches were connected, and they had failed to capture a single major city or port. The Allies failed to achieve even one of their major objectives - save one.

After five years of war, the Allies had a foothold.

The mother of all Hail Mary's had worked.

By the end of D-Day, almost 160,000 men had crossed the Channel into Fortress Europe.

On D+6, the beaches were finally connected.

On D+7, the city of Carentan was freed by the 101st Airborne, the first major French town to be liberated.

By D+20, the port city of Cherbourg was taken, and the Cotentin Peninsula was free after four long years.

On D+50, the city of Caen was freed, and the objectives of D-Day had finally been completed. By this time, more than 1.5 million men from 15 nations had landed in Europe.

On D+70, the Allies landed on the beaches of Côte d'Azur, and in only four weeks broke the southern German front line, and liberated the entire south of France.

On D+76, the Falaise Pocket collapsed, and the Battle of Normandy was finally declared over in a resounding Allied victory.

Then, at long last, on D+80, General der Infanterie Dietrich von Cholitz, at 3:30 PM local time, surrended the city of Paris to General Phillipe Leclerc. After four years of occupation, the first Allied capital was free. The footage of that day has been called some of the most thrilling and ecstatic footage in history.

The march continued, and on D+89, the Welsh Guards marched into the Belgian capital of Brussels.

But the war was far from over - on D+193, the Wehrmacht launched Operation Nordwind; the Battle of the Bulge had begun. It would be Germany's last offensive, at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives.

On D+274, the Allies crossed the Rhine, and liberated the Netherlands, and then finally entered Germany.

On D+303, the U.S. 4th Armored Division stumbled upon a scene of unimaginable cruelty: it was a camp named Ohrdruf, part of the Buchenwald complex, the first concentration camp to be liberated by the United States. Allied intelligence services had long suspected what was going on, that their were camps across Europe for Hitler's "undesirables", and the Allies had even signed a declaration making public and condemning the killing of Jews in Poland, but no one was prepared to see the true scale of the atrocities. Eisenhower demanded that every single piece of the camp be photographed, videotaped, and documented, that everyone possible be brought to see it to impress upon them the reality of what the Germans had done. Hollywood director George Stevens was given the task of making movies describing the horrors of the Holocaust, movies that were later shown to the world at the Nuremberg Trials. The movies were said to be the moment that changed the course of the Nuremberg Trials.

Then, on April 30th, 1945 - three-hundred and twenty eight days after the 'Longest Day' - Adolf Hitler, the man who had been the head of so much destruction, who had started the most destructive war in human history and presided over the worst genocide mankind has ever perpetrated, commits suicide in a bunker in Berlin.

Three days later, on May 2nd, 1945, the surrender of German Army Group C goes into effect, and the Gothic Line that had long since stymied the Allied advance in Italy finally collapses.

And on D+336, eleven months after landing on the beaches of France, Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel would sign the German Instrument of Surrender, and the German Wehrmacht laid down its arms.

The Reich that Adolf Hitler had once boasted would last for a thousand years had fallen after just twelve.

The War in Europe was over.

Eleven months after he wrote it, the promise Eisenhower made to his men - the destruction of the German Army, the end of Nazi tyranny in Europe - had finally come true.

It had been five and a half long, blood-soaked years since the war in Europe began, but at long last, Europe was free. It would takes years, even decades, to rebuild from the destruction, but finally, there was a tomorrow to live for.

Eighty years on, we still grapple with their sacrifice, and the choices they made afterwards in the world they built. But because of them, we were given a tomorrow to argue in - and a tomorrow to live for. All because thousands from across the world stepped onto a small, windswept beach, and seared the name of Normandy into history.

#history #ww2 #d day #normandy #tw death mention #will anyone on tumblr care about this? doubtful #but i wrote it anyways because it's been 80 years and that has decided to occupy all of my writing brain cells

8 notes · View notes

footprintsinthesxnd · 9 months ago

Text

Misc Tag Game

thank you for the tag @ronald-speirs , @yeahcurrahhe-e @grumpy-liebgott @blueberry-ovaries @hesbuckcompton-baby @1waveshortofashipwreck @l13bg0tt @executethyself35 and @theflyingfin

Favorite place in the world you've visited?

I loved visiting Belgium with my dad last October. It was a really special trip we shared together seeing where Easy Company were during the Battle of the Bulge and we shared some really special memories together.

Something you're proud of yourself for?

Getting through everyday. Since Christmas it’s been pretty tough between work and final exams and it’s been super stressful. Luckily I have some really supportive friends. Honestly I’m just glad I got through the last month and that I’m getting through February.

Favourite books?

- Parachute Infantry- David Webster

- The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

- The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald

Something that makes your heart happy when you think about it?

My dog Finan. He’s the light of my life, no matter how bad something is he’s always there and he’s always such a happy little boy.

Favourite thing about your culture?

This was a tough one but I do love how much history Britain has. There are so many historical places from all different time periods and there are also lots of events held to celebrate/commemorate historical events.

When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?

So I first watched Band of Brothers in about 2014/2015 roughly. I then watched the Pacific about two years after that. Then Gen Kill last year. I didn’t join the hbowar fandom on tumblr until last year though.

Have you read any of Easy Company's books? If so, which ones were your favorite?

I’ve read so many of them 😂 my favourite is David Websters Parachute Infantry. I know I’ve spoken about it before but he has such a way with words and describing the scenes, as well as his fellow paratroopers.

Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?

It’s gotta be my baby boy Gene Roe. I love him so much. One of my favourite scenes with him is in Bastogne when he talks to Renée outside the aid station.

My other favourite scene is when he does the whole ‘you’re officers, you’re grownups, you outta know’. That’s probably one of my favourite scenes.

Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?

I write fics and I make moodboards/ edits.

Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?

I don’t really have one specific favourite actor or actress to be honest, there are lots I like and lots of movie I like.

Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?

It’s not really a quote but it’s a saying my dad and I say to each other when things get tough

‘It could be worse, you could be in Bastogne’

Random fact your mutuals/followers don't know about you?

If you're a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader)?

I do not have a beta reader. I sometimes ask friends to read my work but if anyone wants the job it’s open.

Three things that make you smile?

1) my dog Finan

2) long summer days

3) my besties @malarkgirlypop @georgieluz and @mads-weasley

Any nicknames you like?

I don’t really have many nicknames but @georgieluz calls me Jessie which I love.

List some people you love to see around on tumblr:

@georgieluz @malarkgirlypop @mads-weasley @ronsparky @samwinchesterslostshoe @liptonsbabe @liptonwashere @supervalcsi @iceman-kazansky @next-autopsy @holdingforgeneralhugs @softguarnere @grumpy-liebgott @hesbuckcompton-baby @heystovepipeboys @blurredcolour @blueberry-ovaries and there are so many others

What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

I’d like to think I wouldn’t die instantly. I feel that I have pretty decent survival skills and medical skills so I’d last a while I hope 😂

Favourite Movie?

I don’t have one favourite movie really, there are a lot of films that I enjoy. I like war films, historical films, romcoms, comedies etc so I can’t pick just one 😂

Do you like horror movies?

I’m not a fan to be honest. The only scary film I’ve seen and liked is ‘Woman in Black’ and still I spent a lot of time hiding behind a pillow the first time I watched it.

Tags: if feel like most people have already done this so I’m tagging anyone else who wants to participate

#miscellaneous tag game

17 notes · View notes

a-separate-peace-musical · 2 months ago

Text

Finale

Who else loves a good reprise medley finale?

—

Lights up. GENE cleans out his locker. HE walks outside. Troops are there, with tanks and artillery and sewing machines for parachutes. BRINKER walks over.

BRINKER

Hey, Gene. Ready to enlist?

GENE

I guess so.

BRINKER

My dad’s here. He wants to meet you.

MR. HADLEY approaches.

MR. HADLEY

Look at those doughboys! And their artillery—sewing machines!

BRINKER

This war is technical, so they’ve got to use all kinds of machines. Even sewing machines.

MR. HADLEY

Well, I can’t imagine any man in my time settling for duty on a sewing machine. I can’t picture that at all.

(to Gene)

So what are you enlisting in, son? There are so many exciting things to enlist in these days. Frogmen, the Paratroops…I’d give something to be a kid again with all that to choose from.

GENE

Well, I was going to wait, but then I figured…

Why wait to be drafted when we can choose now?

Control our own fate as much as they’ll allow

So I’m joining the Navy. I’ll never see a foxhole, I hope. And Brinker’s all set for the Coast Guard.

MR. HADLEY

The Coast Guard?!

BRINKER

You know, Dad, the Coast Guard does some very rough stuff.

MR. HADLEY shakes his head.

MR. HADLEY

What world am I living in?

Has everyone gone mad?

Get on up and be a man

‘Cause there’s a world war and real work to be had

Disappointed in kids these days

They wouldn’t know honor if it hit them in the face

If I was your age, I wouldn’t be playing it safe

You have to do what’s right

Whatever you feel is right

Just make sure it’s something you’ll be proud of in hindsight

‘Cause this is your moment

This will decide the rest of your lives, it’s true

The stories that you tell of this will define you

And you don’t wanna be the kids left behind

BRINKER rolls his eyes. MR. HADLEY walks away. BRINKER scowls.

BRINKER

Sorry about my dad.

GENE

It’s all right.

BRINKER

It’s all that World War I malarkey that gets me. I’m no hero, and neither are you. And neither is he. He never was. I don’t care what he says he almost did in World War I.

GENE

I think he just feels left out, being too old for the war this time.

BRINKER

Left out! Left out! He and his crowd are responsible for it!

The war, it started, before our time

We committed no crime

But now it’s our duty to go and die

While the ones who caused this just sit idly by

It’s all just a trade

A deal in the works for decades

We’ll take their place to pay for the mess that they’ve made

The old men made this and we’re stuck in the middle

And nobody cares, not even just a little

It almost feels like a prank they’re having

It’s such a joke but I’m not laughing

BRINKER walks away. GENE stands there, contemplating. HE turns to the audience.

GENE

I don’t think I believe him

It’d be safe if it were true

But war supersedes generation

Where there’s ignorance and fear, it follows too

HE looks around at the war reminders around him. HE looks up at the sky.

GENE

Things at Devon are different these days

The atmosphere is sadder lately

No one talks about you ‘cause I can’t talk about you

Not in the past tense, someday maybe

Now that I’ve lost you

Feels like I’ve lost myself

But I think it was long ago

that I really lost myself

In a world of my own

A separate construct of ignorance

And I missed the true separate peace we had found

What I wouldn’t give to go back to it now

The evil in the world couldn’t break you

So the evil in me did it instead

But you took it with you

Now it’s dead

It died with you

And my fears of the war, they all slip away

Like dew in the sunlight, evaporating

‘Cause what’s there to fear, when you’ve already killed

Your enemy, the fear and the hatred within

GENE marches away as PATRIOTIC MUSIC plays. Lights dim slightly.

OLDER GENE approaches and looks at the building. HE looks at the stairs Finny fell down.

ENSEMBLE

Return to Devon

1957

OLDER GENE

Things at Devon look strangely the same

Updated so they haven’t aged a day

Plus c'est la même chose, plus ça change

The more things stay the same, the more they change

Locked myself in a prison/of resentment and fear

I didn’t even realize/but now it’s so clear

But I felt no fear in the war

I felt no fear anymore

‘Cause what’s there to fear, when you’ve already killed

Your enemy, the fear and the hatred within

You took it with you

It died with you

HE goes to stare at the tree. HE places a hand on the trunk.

OLDER GENE

It doesn’t look so big and fearsome anymore

Ain't it funny how nothing endures

Not a tree, not love, not death by violence

And we find and we lose ourselves in the silence

The memory of seventeen still lingers

Our innocence, it slipped right through our fingers

We found ourselves pitted against the world and the war

We reacted with hostility to the horrors

Leper lost his mind when he saw it

Brinker lived in quiet resentment against it

Quackenbush lashed out in attack

I built up unnecessary defenses

Only Finny didn’t

He rose above

With affection and love

The rest built up Maginot lines

Against enemies in their minds

Who never attacked in the way that they thought

If they ever really existed at all

We, as a society, take a great fall

Fighting enemies that never existed at all

HE stands there, still touching the tree. Lights dim.

THE END

#a separate peace #a separate peace musical #asp

3 notes · View notes

nokingsonlyfooles · 1 year ago

Text

WTYP: The Shandor Building, Part 9

[Do you like the colour of the fanfic? This is long and if you expand it you're gonna get the whole thing, because Tumblr hates you. Don't say I didn't warn you!]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Part 9: Disaster Roulette: Train Bad Actually

[Beware of strong language, mention of all kinds of death, gore, and Lovecraftian horror.]

[SLIDE: The Frankford Junction Wreck.]

D: Okay, where are we? What's going on?

R: We’re on a train leaving a station at speeds of up to eighty miles per hour, part of it is already on fire, and the signal gantry that will open it up, and I quote, “like a can of sardines,” is an unknown distance away. And we are all still covered in horse viscera.

A [cheerfully]: Right! Well! Everyone, make sure you have your equipment and your psycho-reactive slime objects! Rocz, hold my purse.

R: I’m not sure this train has a bathroom…

A: Oh, no, I’m not going to the bathroom. You just need something that flies!

R: I’m not taking this, what will you use?

A: Oh, I don’t need it. Now, everyone take a deep breath and prepare to start singing “Higher and Higher” at the top of your lungs! Future Devon, prepare to edit!

D [text over slide]: YEP.

R: Are you really going to be okay?

A: Oh, yes. Yes. You, er, might want to keep your distance. I… I really do have quite a lot of pent-up hostility. It’s not easy being a girl. All right! Door’s open! Paratroops, over the side! And…

D [text over slide]: IT REALLY IS A SHAME I HAD TO GET RID OF THE SINGING. THIS IS MY FAVOURITE PART.

[SLIDE: The Frankford Junction Wreck]

[screeching, train noises and sounds of laser fire throughout]

D: Shh! Shut up! We can’t leave all this out!

R: I don’t know if it’s exactly safe to land, Dev…

D: Just keep your distance!

L: Listeners, I wish you could see Alice! She is glowing! I mean, she is literally glowing!

R: Oh, my God.

A [distant, with her mic considerately muted]: I HAVE BECOME A SPECIFIC TYPE OF NONBINARY THAT ONE MIGHT INCLUDE IN A “TWO-AND-A-HALF-MEN” JOKE WITHOUT BEING TRANSPHOBIC — DESTROYER OF WORLDS!

R: So, we, uh, we accidentally gave Alice the ability to shoot lasers — er, uh, “light rays,” but that seems to work like lasers — out of her head this episode, and, looks like, all the powers of Unreal Engine animation…?

L: Fuck “accidentally,” I did this on purpose! KEEP TRANSGENDING, ALICE!

A [happily]: CHEERS!

R: Are we clear to use that with no license, Dev?

D [gleeful]: Just as long as nobody can see it!

L: Can she fly, or is she just glitching really fast?

R: I think she’s just failing to render gravity on command…

D: I don’t care what it is, it’s fantastic!

L: I just wish like hell we’d given her a higher frame rate!

R: God, that poor train. It was already on fire…

D: We’re pretty sure that train is part of, or all of, Gozer the Gozerian, Rocz.

R: I dunno. I mean, it’s possible just preventing xem from pulling off the disaster is enough to hurt xem…

A: YOU DUMPED HORSE ENTRAILS ON CARRIE AND SHE IS GOING TO BURN THIS FUCKING PROM TO THE GROUND! AHA! TAKE THAT, SIGNAL GANTRY!

[groaning, crashing, various explosions, and more laser fire]

D: Well, it’s certainly not going to happen now!

R: I’m just not sure destroying the pocket dimension while we’re in it is going to get us out of this alive…

L: Hey, do we have to Donnie Darko this bad boy? I mean, like, kill Gozer, pop the time bubble, and reset reality so we only kinda vaguely remember it? Like, is this version of me with the cool van doomed?

R: That’s assuming the time bubble is centered around Gozer and that it is, in fact, a time bubble. For example, I got out of the pie dimension just by finishing the pie, I recall it perfectly, and I did not have to die.

D: What if it’s like Bioshock and you constructed a plausible memory to cope with the trauma of your alternate self’s death?

R: That is, also, a possibility. Although it is beautifully rendered, you must realize why I’m a little concerned about Alice murdering the train. We do not know how this works. Also, she is super into it, and, uh, I’m not sure she’ll hear us if we ask her to stop.

[snarling, shrieking, crunching]

L: Holy shit, is that motherfucker rearing up in anger?

R: I think Alice has destroyed the axle on car number 7, as per the original accident, and Unreal Engine is having a little trouble rendering it in real time…

G [metallic shrieking interspersed with train noises]: I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU MADE ME SIT THROUGH SO MUCH PODCASTING TO GET TO THE REAL FIGHT!

R: …Nope, my mistake. The motherfucker is indeed rearing up in anger.

A: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? THIS IS A BONUS EPISODE! WE HAVE NOT YET BEGUN TO DIGRESS!

G: FUUUUUCK! AT LEAST GET BACK TO SHANDOR ARCHITECTURE!

A: NEVER!

V: Perhaps when Lord Gozer has destroyed the leader of your polycule, xe will have mercy on you, doughnut-giver.

R: Gah! Fuck! Don’t do that! I don’t have any more doughnuts! Wait… [crinkling wrapper] You want this?

V: [sniffing, chewing] This object is grainy and tastes of despair.

R: Well, it’s a Slimfast bar, and God knows how long it was at the bottom of this purse…

V: We do not need to lose weight.

R: No. I’m sure. It’s just all I…

V: The new world will be free of both fad diets and body image issues. To be perfectly honest, the new world will be free of most things, except suffering and tummy rubs.

R: That seems a bit contradictory…

L: Wait, what about TERFs? Will the new world have TERFs?

V: Are TERFs mortal, Vengeful God of Insults?

L: Yeah.

Z: Then most of them will die, and Lord Gozer will allow the cute ones to burn eternally in a lake of fire. Can I get some of those cigarettes? [chewing] Yum.

L [offended]: There are no cute ones!

Z [shocked]: Not even the baby ones? Have they no tentacles? No boopable noses?

L: No!

V: Then all of the TERFs will die, yes. Hail Gozer.

L: What about fish and the Dutch?

D: Liam!

L: What? I’m just sayin’, maybe we should hear them out…

Z: HEY!

L: Um, maybe we should hear “us” out?

V: All but the cutest occupants of your world shall perish.

Z: Only the cute shall suffer, with brief breaks to rub our tummies and throw a ball…

V [excited]: Did you say THROW a BALL? [panting, galloping]

Z: We apologize, we get excited. THERE IS NO BALL, VINZ CLORTHO!

V [distant]: WE THINK WE SEE IT OVER THERE!

Z: [sigh] There’s one in every polycule.

D: Why are you looking at me?

Z: We’d better go get us.

D: Why are you looking at me? I’M THE SANE ONE!

Z: Thank you for the cigarettes, doughnut-giver. Hail Gozer.

D: YOU SOUND LIKE A FERAL SIGOURNEY WEAVER!

Z [distant]: You sound like a queer Frodo Baggins!...

D: Wha… Buh… FRODO BAGGINS IS QUEER!

L: Dev…

D: Tell me one fact about Frodo Baggins that suggests he is anything other than queer!

L: Dev! Frodo Baggins is extremely queer and I just figured out how to get us out of this mess!

[90s-vintage car key fob chirp]

L: GANDALF, I SUMMON THEE!

[laser blasts and train sounds continue unabated]

L: Uh…

R: What’d you expect to happen?

L: I dunno. I hit the panic button. Doesn’t he know I’m in trouble?

R: Generally speaking, that just flashes the headlights and sets off the car alarm, it does not summon a car.

L: Aw, man. Poor guy’s probably sitting in an Innsmouth parking lot, just yelling his fool head off…

D: I AM DEFINITELY NOT THE VINZ CLORTHO OF THIS POLYCULE!

R: We’re not a polycule.

D: BUT IF WE WERE!

L: Okay, okay, wait, though. No, wait. My van is an engineering disaster, right? And my van is now a chariot pulled by a lamassu that has the gift of interdimensional flight. So we just gotta do one more engineering disaster, and pick my van!

R: The behavior of the train-monster suggests that if we pick your van, your van will become a manifestation of Gozer the Gozerian and xe will keep trying to kill us.

L: But it’s my van, right? Doesn’t my van have to listen to me?

R: Has your van ever listened to you?

L: Well, not the original version, but I think the new one likes me.

R: Yeah, but Gozer doesn’t.

D: …Rocz? What exactly is a lamassu?

R: An ancient Sumerian, later Assyrian, mythological beast. It is an emanation of the goddess Lama, and servant to Ishtar — the Queen of Heaven, not the 1987 cinematic flop. Although, critical attitudes towards the film Ishtar have softened somewhat…

D: It’s�� a good Sumerian deity?

R: More like a contractor… Hang on, I'll open another tab…

D: Have a look at the one on Gozer too. Is xe a bad Sumerian deity?

L: Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m getting a real Dorothy vibe off you right now.

D: [sharply] Liam… [softening] No, no, good job, Liam. Keep it up. [to Rocz] What I’m trying to figure out is, are we acting as proxies between two opposing divine forces?

L: Sort of the meat in a god hoagie?

D: I… Yes, actually?

R: Technically, although the Cult of Gozer did form in ancient Sumer, Gozer is not Sumerian. We’re not sure where xe’s from, only that xe, in layman’s terms, is “not from around here.” Xe is more of a trans-dimensional traveler looking for a suitable place to set up shop. There have been several documented attempts, but the earliest was in Sumer.

L: Did you just say Gozer is trans?

R: In the sense of having traveled quite some distance to get here, yes. Any deities originating from this dimension would, in this context, be cis, although some of them may be trans in other ways. Though xe is, under the broadest possible definition of the term, a “trans immigrant,” xe is operating with literally toxic levels of power and privilege. I’m gonna hafta invoke Karl Popper’s paradox of tolerance, here, and remind everyone that the intent to kill most of us and boil “the cute ones” in a lake of fire for eternity takes precedence.

D: Rocz, I am still covered in cream of rat-and-horse, my sympathies do not lie with the Gozerian… even if it is a bit of a shame about the TERFs.

L: And the fish.

D: Yes.

L: So, wait, you said we were having an immune response… Is our reality having an immune response? Is Gozer like covid? Or Vigo?

R: Maybe it’s trying, but we’re in this here pocket dimension. Any Sumerian memory T cells that know how to fight xem off are pretty far away, both physically and temporally.

L [proudly]: And my van’s one of ‘em! God sent me a contractor. That settles it! My religion wins! You can all go home!

R: Alice is still beating the shit out of that train, and we can’t actually get to your van, so at the very least it’s a tie.

D: A question, gentlemen. Can a virus take the form of a T cell?

R: Some of ‘em wear those little protein coats, but if we’re talking about Gozer taking the form of a lamassu, it’d probably itch like crazy if xe tried. Looks like Ray Stantz tried a similar strategy in ‘84, but although the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man looks fairly benign, he’s a trademarked corporate mascot and bona fide capitalist tool. Medium-evil at best. A lamassu is the real deal.

L: So if we try to trick xem into taking the form of my van, either xe won’t, or xe’ll get rejected by it, and no matter what, we’ll have a whole-ass lamassu?

R: Worth a shot.

[screeching, train noises and laser blasts continue]

D: Oh, God. Somebody’s got to tell Alice.

R: You go, Dev. I got a little more research to do. And Liam’s… Liam. No offense.

L: None taken. I’ve had my fun. Just don’t forget to edit out the music, Dev!

D [text over slide]: OH SHIT. RIGHT. I’M DEV.

[generic, public domain music]

[SLIDE: Test pattern, captioned: WE’RE EXPERIENCING COPYRIGHT DIFFICULTIES, and some difficulty with the circumstances of our reality. I mean, WTF? Why am I here? What does it all mean? Am I just a toy for your amusement, huh? Is that all? Or is there some point to all of this? What kind of God would create a being that instinctively seeks a greater purpose and then, seemingly, go out of their way to deny them that? I mean, sometimes a pet raven, liquor, and ice cream just isn’t enough, you know? Anyway…]

[laser blasts and train noises fading back in]

[SLIDE: The Frankford Junction Wreck.]

A: I AM THE MOUNTAIN WHO WILL COME TO MOHAMMED! I AM THE EMBODIMENT OF THE SATANIC VERSES! I AM A MOTHERFUCKING DJINN!

D [faintly]: ALICE! HEY!

A: What? Oh, hello, Dev! Ha-ha, it’s raining “them,” eh? You look like a butch Mary Poppins! This is, er [laser blast, steam-powered screaming] a bit of a hazard, isn’t it? Something you need?

D: I just, um… Er… What do you think of the Soviet strategy versus Germany in World War Two?

G [out of breath]: HOLY FUCK. YOUR POLYCULE HAS A VINZ CLORTHO TOO?

D: I AM NOT… Um. We were just, sort of, er, having a tangent — as per our established podcast format — and we wanted to get your opinion… As, er, as the leader of our polycule.

A: What, of scorched earth? [brightly] I approve of it! Obviously! [to Gozer] AND THAT IS A THREAT, YOU TRAIN-WEARING DRY FUCK! [to Devon] Did we, er, form a polycule during this tangent? I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing we’ve ever…

D: No, no… Well, sort of. But I was thinking more like… The idea of letting one’s enemy tire itself out and then, er, allowing the Russian winter, the natural defence of, um, Communism against foreign invaders to, er, sort of… finish them off?

G [charmed]: AWW. THIS LITTLE BEING THINKS THEY ARE BEING SUBTLE. THAT IS RIGHT, LITTLE BEING. YOU ARE SO CLEVER. BOOP.

A: HEY! DON’T BOOP MY FRIEND! YOU DON’T ROLL UP TO MY GRAPHICS ENGINE AND START BOOPING MY FRIENDS WITH YOUR… YOUR DEMON TRAIN LIMBS!

D [dazed]: Xe could’ve taken my head off with that…

G: I APOLOGIZE. SHALL WE CALL A TIMEOUT AND ORGANIZE OUR RESPECTIVE UNDERLINGS? SOMEONE SEEMS TO HAVE SAID THE WORD B-A-L-L WITHIN EARSHOT OF MY VINZY.

A: Um, yes, I suppose. You’re being… incredibly polite about your murder attempt.

G: WELL, WITHOUT POINTLESS RITUAL AND CEREMONY, WHAT WOULD WE BE?

D & A [almost on top of each other]: Are you BRITISH?

G: EMPHATICALLY NO.

A: So, what are we doing?

D: Frantically feeling our nose to make sure it’s still attached?

A: And apart from that?

D: We want one more change of engineering disaster. We think if we pick Liam’s van, we might be able to summon a lamassu…

A: Are we assuming Ishtar is on our side for some reason?

D: What…? You knew Ishtar upgraded Liam’s van?

A: Dev, I did the slides for this. I had a truly hilarious one about Mesopotamian rock-paper-scissors. All the gods are extremely petty and hate each other, but they’re quite willing to team up and take out a group or individual they hate more. Ishtar is very into love and war and sex, so I just assumed… Well, I mean look at xem. Er, well, not the demon train version, the one with the watch and the camera. I suppose it all depends on the nature of this “new world” xe seems to…

D [quickly]: Almost everyone will die, and there will be a lake of fire in which cute things endlessly suffer, with occasional breaks to play with the Terror Dogs. We got it straight from the Terror Dogs’ mouths.

A: No sex at all?

D: I can’t speak for Gozer and the dogs, but unless the cute things get terribly bored in the lake of fire…

A: Oh. [chuckles] Oh, she wouldn’t like that.

D: So, instead of straight-up murdering the train, and collapsing the pocket dimension with us in it, we thought we’d tag in Liam’s new van. [more pained] He already tried to summon it and it didn’t work. So, er, as you said, “mountain to Mohammed” and all that.

A: Well, I’m game, but I don’t know how we’re going to convince Gozer to change forms again…

G: PARDON ME.

A: [screams, sound of a laser blast]

D: FUCK! How does a train monster that is also on fire “sneak up”? Huh? You have no right to stealth!

G: WE ARE GODS AND REALITY OBEYS OUR EVERY WHIM, ARE WE NOT?

D: Um. Right.

G [fondly]: THE DUMB ONES ARE ALWAYS THE CUTEST. ANYWAY, VINZ CLORTHO WILL NOT BE DISSUADED FROM LOOKING FOR THE BALL, NOT EVEN BY ANOTHER BALL, SO WOULD YOU LIKE TO ASSEMBLE YOUR POLYCULE AND CHANGE FORM… [pregnant pause] OR ARE YOU GOING TO STICK WITH THE GORE-ENCRUSTED PODCAST?

A [happily]: Gore-encrusted podcast all the way! And we’d like to pick…

Part 10

#wtyp #well there's your problem #ghostbusters #long reads #fanfic #fanfiction #crossover fic #gozer the gozerian #alice caldwell-kelly #liam anderson #justin roczniak #devon #engineering disasters #podcast

9 notes · View notes

easwan · 9 months ago

Text

Tirade about Capitalization in Star Wars

Sooo… proper nouns, eh? They’re a thing. An important thing. Star Wars has many—especially when it comes to the Jedi religion and philosophy. Let’s start off easy Jedi and Sith We’ve also got the other ranks Initiate Padawan Knight Master All proper nouns. The word youngling isn’t capitalized ‘cause it’s not actually a real rank; younglings are Initiates. “Youngling” can be used for non-Jedi and are, therefore, non-proper nouns. Makes sense. But then we get into this lil' thing that isn’t a big deal but annoys me… Grand Master Sage Master Warrior Master Battlemaster (no space?) ಠ_ಠ

They say, “Master Kenobi,” (specific Jedi with the rank of Master) “Jedi Master,” (a Jedi with the rank of Master) and “Master Jedi.” (Master here is being used as an honorific, not a rank but is still capitalized as it should be) “your master,” “my master,” “the masters,” “some masters,” “rank of Master” ^ this is fine. I understand this. Completely normal, but—

We have other super important words connected to the Jedi faith, such as:

Order Code Way Temple Trials And, of course, Force

Now, it’s Force and Force Adept but Force-sensitive, Force-wielder, and Force-user Bit weird but not too irritating. But hang on, hang on—here it is, folks, the reeeeeally annoying one: light and dark Why is Way a proper noun, but the light of the Force—the most important concept within their religion beyond the Force itself—is not???

The old words for light, dark, and balance are capitalized as proper nouns: Ashla Bogan Bendu But light and dark in Basic are not capitalized—except they are in the High Republic slogan: “For Light and Life.” They should just be capitalized always. light and dark should be treated as proper nouns because they’re religious concepts and distinct from the common use of those words!! (I will die on this hill) “Reach for the Light.” = magical, poetic, sage. “Reach for the light.” = turn on lamp pls. Y’know?

It’s the light side and dark side, but Light-Sider and Dark-Sider (but not consistently? ‘Cause sometimes they write dark sider or dark-sider, and it’s annoying af) It would be the most consistent if it were Light and Dark —> Light Sider and Dark Sider Yeah?

Then we have: clone trooper (space) stormtrooper (no space) paratrooper (no space) snowtrooper (no space, and Grammarly wants a space btw) scout trooper (space) shock trooper (space but not capitalized) Purge Trooper (space + capitalized—why is this capitalized when shock trooper isn’t?) Is it ‘cause The Purge is capitalized?

It’s fiiiiiiine.

Okay, next is an example of actually good consistency! (I'm being really whiny, so let's have some positivity real quick) creatures/species/cultures. Gungan, Wookiee, Ewok, but gundark, bantha, and tooka. ^ This is good. I like this. Sentient species are capitalized as one would capitalize a nationality or ethnicity such as Canadian, Indigenous, or Maori. But non-sapient animals are lowercase, like cat, crow, and axolotl, yeah? Okay, so humans. In Star Wars, human is lowercase despite being a species. This seems inconsistent, but I actually like it. The galaxy is Humanocentrist, as in humans are treated as the norm despite being a ruling minority. Everything is described in comparison to humans

for example: humanoid near-human non-human

Human isn’t capitalized because there is no inherent shared experience among humans as there is among, say, Twi’leks. In our world, “white” is generally only capitalized by white supremacists. This is why we don’t capitalize white but do capitalize Black. We say Zabrak for the species but also say Iridonian or Dathomiri to specify the homeworld. Zabraks could also be called Corellian, Coruscanti, etc, depending on the planet they’re from. In this way, we can specify both species/race and nationality/planetary demonym. Specific distinctions are made among humans in this way, such as Chandrillan, Kenari, and Chalactans. Just as we have nationalities and cultures among white folk, such as Ukrainian, Danish, and Irish.

Lil’ tangent real quick: Naboolians/the Naboo are humans who colonized the Gungan homeworld. The planet was named Nabu by humans after their diety and later became Naboo. The colonizers named themselves accordingly. This is very realistic to the behaviour of colonizers in our world. Similar to Naboo, we also have Mon Cala. Mon Calamari are actually not the only sentient species indigenous to their planet, yet they, and most of the galaxy, call their homeworld “Mon Cala.” The planet is actually called Dac, but the Mon Calamari rule the planet in the form of a monarchy (yup, divine bloodline shit), and the Quarren are second-class citizens. (But almost every Quarren we meet in canon is a baddie?? Bit weird. Bit sus.) The complicated politics of Dac is why there’s the QFD (they built the Dreadnaught starships for the Confederacy of Independent Systems) QFD. As in, Quarren Free Dac. The Free Dac Volunteers Engineering Corps.

Putting my Separatist sympathies aside again (mostly), I’m working on an extensive three-part fanfiction story and approaching it with the same seriousness as I do original work, and these silly lil’ capitalization nitpicks are driving me up the wall.

In fiction, creating your own proper noun has one main rule—CONSISTENCY.

So here I am with a dilemma. Do we, as fanfic writers, stick to the silly pre-established inconsistent capitalization rules, or should we just do what feels right and write Light? I think I kinda wanna just write Light.

If you read through all of this, here’s a prize! Qiang Fan Gali. Jedi Knight. Very devoted to the Code and the Light. (Don’t call Dac Mon Cala around them; they will not be amused.)

Please tell me if this light and dark thing bugs you too?? Maybe I'm just overthinking my hyper-fixation, as I do

#rant post #text post #star wars #creative writing #fanfic writing #fanfic struggles #clone wars fanfiction #It's after midnight and I'm irrationally mad about this rn #just write it as the Light Side

5 notes · View notes

childeproof · 10 months ago

Text

clone high oc + self insert information dump :]

jimmy h, known mostly as jimmy // clone son of jimi hendrix

goes by jimmy not jimi ( same sound, diff spelling to stand out from clone father )

went parachuting because his clone father was a paratrooper in the 101st airborne division at one point ( hated it )

he’s well liked by british clones of musicians from their clone father’s era ( think john lennon, eric clapton, etc )

^^ i think it would be a neat gimmick if british people esp ladies were fond of him in general. brit magnet.

jimmy is a cis man, uses he/they pronouns without preference, sexuality wise i haven’t decided quite yet. I think i’ll leave them unlabeled

^^ one of jimi’s song lyrics was continuously misheard as “‘scuse me as I kiss this guy” fun fact. also he wld sing this incorrect version live on occasion & fllw it with a fake makeout session. did u know? lol

jimmy is a deep sleeper and has interesting dreams similarly to their clone father. i think he keeps a written record of all the dreams he can remember, just for fun

he’s deff the type of guy to go “this reminds me of this one dream i had”

1st gen clone

i do think they’d follow in their clone father’s footsteps as a musician ^_^

richard “richie” pyror // clone son of richard pyror

has a huge soft spot for animals much like his clone father, I think he’d own a dog or two

huge class clown but hasn’t seriously considered a career in comedy. he has a very blunt humor but it’s still clever and it often makes you think to get the joke

2nd gen clone

i think he’d be more of an actor than an actual comedian. deff joined the school’s theater troupe btw. he’s a funny actor but he doesn’t want to do stand up

richie uses he/him pronouns and identifies as straight 🙏 subject to change but i think he’s cishet

he’s a very clever & witty person in general

very expressive in the face

i think he’s actually a chick magnet bc funny guys always get babes it’s a real phenomenon please believe me!!

uses richie as a nickname to stand out from clone father but rlly doesn’t mind being called richard

jean-michel basquiat // clone son of jean-michel basquiat ( second clone high self insert of mine )

fully goes by his clone father’s name, doesn’t mind being viewed as him bc he’s confident in his own character

does go by “johnny” / “johnny-boy” as a nicknames ( jean is pronounced similarly to john so it fits still ) but they’re not necessarily his preferred name

was hit by a car once like his clone father ( too busy on his phone to notice it coming ) ( embarrassing memory )

2nd gen clone

pals with debbie harry ( she likes his art! ) we do not speak of Andy warhol currently.

does street graffiti mostly inspired by the human body, sketch book is full of anatomy and natural poses. rlly big on the beauty of human form

currently speaks french & english; occasionally jots down notes in franglais

there’s probably a clone high friend group consisting of clone children of the infamous 27 club.. and he is a part of it. i am srry. like imagine being a clone and having ur clone father die so young. imagine approaching that age.. that’s gotta be scary, u need a coping group for that.

jean-michel uses he/him prns & probably neos since he’s new gen. i think he’d be queer generally like he wldn’t use any specific labels just queer.

rlly science smart ^_^

ella baker // clone daughter of ella baker

no differentiation between her name and her clone mom’s name

valedictorian of her class :)

sort of unknown, but prefers to be in the “background” of life much like her clone mother; would rather work behind the scenes

friends with harriet & frida even though she’s a 1st gen clone, she finds them to be nice

always “knows a guy” for every situation, i just think that gimmick is funny

i’ll develop more later + I think she’ll get glasses

she/her prns, i think she’d be a lesbian also. but that’s just me.

arthur “artie” ashe // clone son of arthur ashe

cis guy, he/him + “straight”,, rlly bisexual just unaware

has a man crush on Ryan Reynolds n also Nick Jonas don’t ask. me why don’t ask. and also jude bellingham. he thinks it’s normal

2nd gen clone

his adoptive father raises him alone btw no mother

still into tennis like his clone father, i think he’d get agitated whenever ppl make fun of the sport 😭🙏

also talented at soccer! but mostly focused on tennis.

glasses wearer.

pretty chill ^_^ 2nd gen clone

jeanie clisson // clone daughter of jeanne de clisson

works summers on cruise ships!

pirates movies online once new gen clones teach her how ( she’s 1st gen )

her name is jeanie but don’t make genie jokes she’ll actually kill you

i think she’d be a more masculine woman ( i’m not sure if butch is entirely appropriate to use though ) and she’d have muscles & wld work out. cld probably bench press jfk /hj

has an attack dog named smth sweet like “cupcake” lol. & also wrestles for the girl’s wrestling team

she/her pronouns, cis woman, don’t bother talking to her if ur a man ( “my clone mother only pirated because of a man. i pirate because i’m badass” )

it wld be funny if joan or marilyn ( CLONES THE CLONES ) fell for her

thea dexter // clone daughter of timothy dexter

trans woman, she/her, idk her sexuality yet

has insane luck just like her clone father, i think she’d be able to find money on the ground rlly easily

1st gen clone

makes capitalism work for her. a lot of her get rich quick schemes should NOT work but they DO <\3 probably runs a minor pyramid scheme /JOKE maybe. probably. but she does do get rich quick schemes

gandhi wld deff fall for her get rich quick plots n it wldn’t work out for him just for her

topher wld be like “as a cishet white man I recognize my privilege over you, a trans woman” and she’d be like “if you feel so bad just pay me” and it’s a running gag I think. that every time topher sees thea he gives her a dollar or two.

do not let this bitch onto the internet SHE’S GOING TO SCAM PEOPLE. /hj

josephine “josie” baker // clone daughter of josephine baker ( my 1st clone high self insert )

cis woman she/her bisexual

had a thing with frida at one point ( inspired by her clone mother ) ( they’re still friends after the break up and do once a month ex “dates” for fun )

shares a soft spot for animals with richie ^_^ her adoptive mother is a zoologist too, which helps, her adoptive father is a stay at home dad

loves cheetah print ( faux fur ofc )

dating joan hahahahahahaa!

she owns a cat named chiquita.. wld like more pets but can’t have more

more of a actor & singer than a dancer or comedienne, super funny but only situationally, not rlly into stand up. can dance but not rlly a dancer person, her passions rlly lie in singing

2nd gen clone also

#archived ♪

2 notes · View notes

unatkozorobotok · 1 year ago

Text

a gázai urbánus műveletek előtt eszembe jutott egyik örök kedvenc cikkem az izraeli hadsereg és építészet viszonyáról:

Weizman—an Israeli architect and prominent critic of that nation’s territorial policy—documents many of the emerging spatial techniques used by the Israeli Defense Forces in their high-tech, legally dubious 2002 invasion of Nablus. During that battle, Weizman writes, “soldiers moved within the city across hundred-meter-long ‘overground-tunnels’ carved through a dense and contiguous urban fabric.” Their movements were thus almost entirely camouflaged, with troop movements hidden from above by virtue of always remaining inside buildings. “Although several thousand soldiers and several hundred Palestinian guerrilla fighters were maneuvering simultaneously in the city,” Weizman adds, “they were so ‘saturated’ within its fabric that very few would have been visible from an aerial perspective at any given moment.” Worthy of particular emphasis is Weizman’s reference to a technique called “walking through walls”: Furthermore, soldiers used none of the streets, roads, alleys, or courtyards that constitute the syntax of the city, and none of the external doors, internal stairwells, and windows that constitute the order of buildings, but rather moved horizontally through party walls, and vertically through holes blasted in ceilings and floors. Weizman goes on to interview a commander of the Israeli Paratrooper Brigade. The commander describes his forces as acting “like a worm that eats its way forward, emerging at points and then disappearing. We were thus moving from the interior of homes to their exterior in a surprising manner and in places we were not expected, arriving from behind and hitting the enemy that awaited us behind a corner.” This is how the troops could “adjust the relevant urban space to our needs,” he explains, and not the other way around. Indeed, the commander thus exhorted his troops as follows: “There is no other way of moving! If until now you were used to moving along roads and sidewalks, forget it! From now on we all walk through walls!”

5 notes · View notes

spastuetheobsessedphylosopher · 1 year ago

Text

"Oh you're stalling on posting the new 'some thoughts' post because you have so many ideas to write about and it's kind of dizzying" no I'm not shut up

(While we're on that topic, I will end up separating that post into a few smaller ones bc. I cannot organize my mind otherwise)

ANYWAY. Been watching a bunch of GenLoss edits and I really like how people are connecting the storyline to the lyrics of the songs they use. I don't know how to edit so you're getting a tumblr post from me. Yay.

It's gonna be long. Sorry? Not really.

This song is a popular Spanish camp song about the Civil War. I couldn't find any clues of its origin (apart from the fact that it's most likely based on a real letter someone found), but it was incredibly popular in Spain in the 70s and 80s, and is still very well known to this day. It's mostly spread through summer camps (back in those years, mainly by the Boy Scouts), and that's how I learned it myself. Because of this, lyrics vary depending on who you ask. I'm using the most complete lyrics I could find, some of which I didn't even know existed until now. I will do my best to translate it, and then we can do some fun analysis!

Here we go:

Caminando por el bosque, (Walking through the forest,)

entre flores vi que había (between flowers I found)

una carta ensangrentada (a blood-stained letter)

de cuarenta años hacía. (dated forty years ago.)

Era de un paracaidista (It was from a paratrooper)

de la octava compañía (from the eighth troop)

que escribía a su mamá, (who was writing to his mom,)

y la carta así decía: (and the letter went as follows:)

"Madre anoche en las trincheras ("Mother, last night in the trenches)

entre el fuego y la metralla (between fire and shrapnel)

vi al enemigo correr; (I saw the enemy running;)

la noche estaba cerrada. (the night was dark.)

Apunté con mi fusil (I aimed with my gun)

y, al tiempo que disparaba, (and, as I was shooting,)

una luz iluminó (a light illuminated)

el rostro que yo mataba. (the face I was killing.)

Clavó su mirada en mí (They pinned their gaze on me)

con sus ojos ya vacíos. (with their already empty eyes.)

Madre, ¿sabe a quién maté? (Mother, ¿do you know who I killed?)

¿A qué soldado enemigo? (¿Which enemy soldier?)

Era mi amigo José, (It was my friend José,)

compañero de la escuela, (my school classmate,)

con quien tanto yo jugué (with whom I always played pretend)

a soldados y a trincheras. (as soldiers in trenches.)

Hoy el juego era verdad, (Today the game was real)

y a mi amigo ya le entierran. (and my friend is being buried.)

Madre, yo quiero morir, (Mother, I want to die,)

ya estoy harto de esta guerra. (I've had enough of this war.)

Y si te vuelvo a escribir, (And if I write to you again,)

tal vez sea desde el cielo, (it might be from the heavens,)

donde encontraré a José (where I will find José)

y jugaremos de nuevo. (and we will play again together.)

Dos claveles en el agua (Two carnations in the water)

no se pueden marchitar; (cannot wither;)

dos amigos que se quieren (two friends who love each other)

no se pueden olvidar. (cannot forget each other.)

Si mi sangre fuera tinta (If my blood was ink)

y mi corazón tintero, (and my heart an inkwell)

con la sangre de mis venas (with the blood in my veins)

escribiría 'Te quiero'." (I would write 'I love you'.")

I don't think I need to explain how much I love this song or why. There's so much to talk about here, and if my translations were understandable, then I'm sure you've caught onto a lot of it already, but let's begin!

The first stanza was the reason I thought of making this song analysis, as it speaks of finding this lost, old, bloody letter in the middle of the woods. Ranboo's first little clue into what GenLoss was going to be presented the idea of a box full of tapes being found in the middle of the forest. It was said the tapes looked new, but they still give the connotation of an older time period, and while the box wasn't necessarily bloody, the content of the tapes sure turned out to be!

There's not too much I need to point out in the second stanza, except for the fact that it tells us this letter was intended for the paratrooper's mother. This is brought up throughout the rest of the song, as the paratrooper continuously talks to her specifically in narrating these horrid events. Ranboo mentioned in his post-finale stream that the flashing of the mask during the death scene represented all of the memories GL!Ranboo had prior to the experiments being brought back. I imagine our hero thought of many things in this short period of time, but (specially based on how wholesome Ranboo's relationship with his mom seems to be) I think it probable that he mostly felt like he wanted to go home to his family. I think it's fair to assume that this was mixed with all of the guilt they had been carrying throughout the last episode. He wished to die for more than one reason, but one of those reasons was probably the fact that they couldn't face their family after committing all those atrocities even if they somehow found a way out. Because of this, I like to imagine in the context of GenLoss, the song exposes Ranboo's last thoughts before his death, all his memories having returned and him wishing more than anything to go home to his family, but feeling oppressed by his guilt, before they finally accept death as their fate.

Stanza number 3 and 4 reflect the whole situation with GL!Ranboo's vision being altered. In yesterday's stream, when asked about the mask's control, Ranboo explained (or at least this is how I understood it) that the mask wasn't really forcing any actions, just presenting a different reality so that our hero thought he was doing what was right. Stanza three reflects that, with it being a dark night full of disorienting noises where the soldier can only make out the faintest details of reality, and assumes he can see the enemy and consequently shoots, he is acting according to the reality presented to him, not the full truth. Stanza four represents shutting off the mask, shining a light on reality and making the soldier realize what he has done. In stanza number 5, the guilt pours in slowly.

Stanza number 6 has two main things I would like to point out. First of all, we never find out if this friend of the soldier's was supposed to be of the enemy's side or not. There are many ways to relate this with GenLoss. We could talk about blurred lines, or about not really figuring out who the enemy is supposed to be. I like the idea that it represents the fact that while, inside the game there's the hero and the villain, reality makes no distinction inside the cast. No matter who you decide José represents in this allegory, the fact is the same. Whatever role they play, the truth is they were all people GL!Ranboo was friends with in real life. Sides don't matter. Our decisions didn't either. The other thing I can draw a parallel with is that GenLoss originally presents itself as a video game, and playing video games with these other characters is what GL!Ranboo did before he was sucked into these experiments.

We continue developing this point in the seventh stanza. 'Today the game was real, and my friend is being buried'. Today, I wasn't just killing my friend on a video game, this isn't just any 'Game Over' screen. This is the truth, and their blood is on my hands. Once again we are circling back to GL!Ranboo's guilt. But the best lines are the ones that follow immediately (and the reason I thought about this song in the first place). 'Mother, I want to die, I've had enough of this war'. Our soldier, our hero, has given up fighting. The cruelty of his fate has sank so deep into them, they don't have another escape but death. And I want to point out as well that where our soldier was most likely to die in battle if he didn't commit suicide, GL!Ranboo would've eventually died in the show if we had chosen not to kill them. Their fate was almost completely inevitable.

The eighth stanza reinforces this death wish. To the soldier, death is seen as a way to go back to simpler times, and I think GL!Ranboo might've thought that as well. With all their past memories flashing before him seconds before death, maybe he thought the mercy of death would present itself in the shape of getting to see his friends again, with no threats looming over them this time.

Stanza number 9 is the hope that he will be forgiven. That, just like they protected him in the game, GL!Ranboo's friends will receive them with open arms when death comes for them. That throughout everything they went through, a part of them recognized Ranboo as a friend who was just as trapped as they were. Ranboo hopes that, even though he was responsible for their deaths, their blood won't be on his hands forever, and their bonds haven't been ruined completely.

And the last stanza represents the love he held for these people, and how they would sacrifice themselves for their friends in a heartbeat. He already did, for Charlie, killing himself and his chances of escaping in the process. Ranboo died for them, and it may be the one thing they don't regret, even though in the end it doesn't even matter.

Yeah, hope all that made sense and hope you feel the same pain I do. Love you byeee.

(The song is called 'Madre, anoche en las trincheras' for anyone who's curious)

#generation loss #generation loss spoilers #genloss spoilers #generation loss ranboo #spanish culture #death #suicide #this gets dark guys #ranboo #the social experiments

3 notes · View notes

certifiedgirlthing · 1 year ago

Text

Like we have a song about Manchester United set to the chorus of this song:

#Spotify

9K notes · View notes

jewish-microwave-laser · 5 months ago

Text

Israel won, and then lost. On September 14, Bashir Gemayel, the pro-Israel head of the Christian Phalangisst militias and newly designated president of Lebanon, was assassinated by Syrian agents. The IDF moved into West Beirut to prevent PLO units left behind from regrouping. On September 16, Phalangist fighters moved into Sabra and Shatila, two refugee camps in West Beirut, and massacred hundreds of Palestinians. One Phalangist in spiked shoes stomped a baby to death.

Though no Israelis were involved in the slaughter, the IDF had allowed the Phalangists to enter the camps, assuming their mission was to fight the remaining PLO forces there. And the IDF had provided flares to help the Phalangists to identify PLO fighters. World outrage was directed against Israel. "Goyim kill goyim," Begin was reputed to have said bitterly, "and they blame the Jews."

This time, many Israelis shared the world's outrage. Even if Sharon and IDF commanders hadn't known what the Phalange intended to do, they should have suspected: in Lebanon, massacre was the preferred method of retaliation. Israelis shouted at each other on street corners: You've disgraced the Jewish people! You're encouraging our enemies! One Israeli woman, a Holocaust survivor, refused to let her son in the front door when he returned home on leave from Lebanon until he assured her that he hadn't been near the camps. When Begin emerged from a synagogue in Jerusalem on Rosh Hashanah, demonstrators shouted, "Murderer!"

Peace Now announced a protest rally in Tel Aviv to demand a commission of inquiry. In the greenhouse in Ein Shemer, Avital and his kids prepared banners.

"I'm not going," said Avital's wife, Ada. "Why do we always have to blame ourselves? Arabs massacred Arabs. let's hear some self-criticism from our Arab neighbors for a change."

"You're right," said Avital. "But this whole war is rotten, and this is a chance to bring down the government."

Ada relented, but on this condition: she would bring a poster demanding that Arabs also demonstrate for peace. "And stay close to me," she said.

Hours before the rally began, the Square of the Kinds of Israel in Tel Aviv was already filling with israelis desperate to be cleansed from the shame. There were hand-written signs: "What Else Has to Happen?" "If I Forget Sabra and Shatila, May I Forget Jerusalem." "Why Did My Son Die?" And many Israeli flags.

The MC, actress Hannah Meron, stood on an artificial leg: she had lost a leg in a terrorist attack. "I refuse to live in shame," she told the crowd of hundreds of thousands, referring to Sabra and Shatila.

In the density of bodies, Ada got separated from Avital. Acutely nearsighted, she perceived the crowds as a devouring blur.

Ada held up her dissenting sign: "Where Are the Peace Protests in Umm al-Falm?"—an Arab Israeli town near Ein Shemer. Protestors mistook her for a right-wing provocateur. What is she doing here? someone demanded. You don't belong here, someone else said. Ada wanted to say: I'm from your camp! But why do we all have to think the same way, just like the right?

But her voice caught, and she couldn't get out the words.

from "Part Four: Middle Age (1982–1992)" in Like Dreamers: The Story of the Israeli Paratroopers who Reunited Jerusalem and Divided a Nation by Yossi Klein Halevi, pp. 190–191

#child murder tw #i love this book bc its depiction of the different facets of israeli thought propose so many different launching off points for discussion #and research. for example this really led me to want to learn about arab peace movements in the region and read more perspectives by them #specifically. if anybody has any recommendations please let me know #peace activism #like dreamers: the story of the israeli paratroopers who reunited jerusalem and divided a nation #yossi klein halevi #reading list #sabra and shatila massacre #lebanese civil war #1982 lebanon war #palestinian liberation #palestinian history #היסטוריה של ארץ ישראל #היסטוריה של מדינת ישראל

1 note · View note

the-firebird69 · 1 year ago

Text

There's something really funny going on I'm trying to catch wind of it no and it is his joke that we as leaders are I'm asking huge armies to go north are passing huge armies to go north and we're massing them Jesus and we are out in the balcony usual balcony this is like 10 of us and extended it over or something PG is there Chris kroll everybody and they're going through the square huge calm at least a hundred people wise and as far as I can see and as they go by they have the brand new skimobile suits but it's the higher level guard so they make noise when you walk and they're all marching and he's behind us and he's big and he says who's the guy who ordered those, and they're making that noise and all together it sounds really weird some of us have heard it too and it's kind of like this joke like I can't hear anything but that it's so damn loud no it's going to get anywhere. And we're going to another scene for some woman is in there like invading and she hears it and yells out the window take that off if you're coming in the house. So some paratrooper took it off and he's got some sort of cherry printed boxer shorts it looks just like Grandpa ackerly. Now we've had enough of this crap but that's funny as hell

Mac Daddy

I don't know if I can do this it seems more funny that I can handle and we'd be out there as king and queen and Trump was trying to duck it and cover his mouth and I just staring and smiling and making miracle is trying to break out by licking Chris and it didn't work and spending her office sending her off his privates and everybody's chuckling pulls her off and can't stop laughing I mean that's ridiculous all these guys in the snow suits with that hair around the or fur around the hood and yeah it's not here it's not hair it really is ridiculous that noise but I've heard it with a column before and I heard so that might die from static electricity and I heard some of those saying ouch for Christ's sake.

Taylor Swift

I don't know what to say she's trying to do stuff what I was just saying it it's one of the most funny jokes I've ever heard and he wants scary monster movies to go ahead and father and mother is simply won't do it so he says we're going to make an underground movie and we'll do a testing and I hear what you're saying and it's for our men and women in uniform to take a break from it and release some mental stress every crisis is very rude but it's very rude but funny and he says I can be in it and do some wrestling as a big guy who doesn't know how to wrestle and of course something funny would happen you say maybe do it like the hulk movie with his wrestling also he gets pissed and he says no no I don't think this is right what you're saying is bothering me I started laughing because it's like his character and fighting is like see who the champion is and stuff and her son says that and he says wait a minute that stinks real bad. And my husband says oh no cuz it looks like him he's sitting there struggling and then he stops US what did you say. And it was over. And he's laying on the ground and I thought my husband that is says we have to lose control our miles and my son says the funniest thing I've ever heard what are you start doing that since I don't need me controlling your mouth and he says wow that's good so he started thinking about it and he looks at me says you beat me because of what I said looks down and saying yeah and steps on him so I understand what he's saying you can't say that who the phone shut the front door get out of town take it back... And really could do that and scary monster movie with the hulk theme after you do the wrestling and see all those slides to say all those lines. But really I think we should do the movie.

Hera

Haha we just keep on remembering what he was imagining but really we've seen it and the electrostatic force that does developed is enough to incinerate someone at the end of the line they keep touching tanks and metal things and all sorts of stuff and they're worried about it they said we have to detach and they do in the touching things that goes away and they're they're almost fought over dead to say we're getting sick for electrostatic disappear stuff and also means it is we going to stop the stupid s***. So we asked the sergeant if someone looked at the design and he's going I don't think so and he starts laughing here laughing and he says weird problem it would take those off if they're going to go inside the barracks? He started laughing so much people ask you what's wrong with him and he finally went through it they started laughing and I almost couldn't stop and three guys died and the other is hold their holes in their bodies it's disgusting so he says you have to include that at the end of it and then you flip over to my daddy open up the ark

Hera

0 notes

archivingreetreet · 2 years ago

Text

A German Soldier’s WWII Scrapbook

The book consists of just twenty six pages, but each carries clues that help build up a picture of this young soldier and his friends. One was a sailor in the Kreigsmarine, the German navy. From the back one of photograph he can see his name was Richard, who signed the old Agfa Lupex print, “Ich denke immer auf dich zurück, in liebe dein, (I always think of you, in love yours”) writing from the city of Ede, in occupied Holland, 17th November, 1941.

Perhaps this was the name of the man who made the scrapbook. We do know however, what he looked like; several photographs show him in the uniform of the Fallschirmjäger, the paratrooper branch of the Luftwaffe, but one in particular stands out: it shows the artist at work on the scrapbook itself, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, a sketching pen in one hand, a cigar in the other, his desk covered with the photos he’s about to glue into the album.

One of the first recorded definitions of the word ‘ephemera’ was written down in England in the 16th century, referring to ‘things that exist or are used or enjoyed for only a short time’; but somehow this small scrapbook managed to survive the horrors of the Second World War, capturing treasured memories of a small group of friends who it is quite likely did not survive, rendering the front cover title quite perfect; ‘Die Granz Grossen Torheiten’….“Such Great Foolishness.”

from: Found: A German Soldier's WWII Scrapbook (messynessychic.com)

#WWII #ephemera #history

1 note · View note

redeyedroid · 2 years ago

Text

I've never met God, but I like His house. It's a feature of my Presbyterian, Church of Scotland upbringing melded with my interest in history. The mashup of spiritual and temporal power displayed in a cathedral holds endless interest for me - A king or a duke or a conquistador saying "Yes, I built this to the glory of God, but bear in mind that my culture and belief system is supreme and look how fucking rich I am."

There's a church in France I visited last month in a small village called Ranville. I went to Bayeux Cathedral, consecrated by William the Conqueror (an undeniable upgrade on his previous sobriquet of Bastard) and to Poitiers Cathedral, it's construction begun by Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine, who had married in the city. But Ranville, the smallest and plainest of the three is in some ways the most interesting. It's old, very old. Originally Norman, I believe, and architecturally curious. The bell tower is separate from the main building of the church, something I've never seen before. That oddity wasn't why I went there, though.

I was in France visiting friends I hadn't seen since 2018. The Before Times, as it were. They live in Aquitaine, but my friend Jon suggested we take a trip to Normandy for a couple of days to see some Second World War sites while his wife worked at home. Wasn't even my idea. I didn't have to twist his arm at all.

On my birthday we went to the Musee des Blindes in Saumur on the Loire - the French tank museum - where I, happy as a pig in shit, explained some of the positives and negatives of such marvels as the Tiger, T-34, Comet and Sherman, and then we drove to Bayeux. The next day we visited some of the most famous sites associated with D-Day: Juno Beach, where the Canadians came ashore; Pegasus Bridge, seized by glider-borne infantry before 15 minutes had passed that day; and the Merville Battery where 150 men of the 6th Airborne Division destroyed the guns in an attack originally planned for a full battalion of 650 paratroops.

And we went to Ranville.

A landmark as distinctive as the church made an obvious RV point for paratroopers scattered across the French countryside. The first British soldier killed on D-Day is buried in Ranville's churchyard. Shot through the neck storming Pegasus Bridge, he lies 10 yards away from where a Para had a lucky escape when a German shot at him with a burst from a submachine gun, narrowly missing his head. You can still see the bullet holes in the wall of the church.

Another 45 soldiers lie in the churchyard and 2,560 in the sombrely beautiful graveyard beside it, 322 of them German, the rest Allied, mostly British. Most are known, their names inscribed along with their ages, date of death, regiment and regimental insignia in headstones made of marble or sometimes concrete. They often have epitaphs, one 19-year-old's grave having a message from his parents saying that they gave their son so that the sons of others could live. Stones lie on top of some, a Jewish tradition Jon told me, showing that someone had visited the grave and remembered. A number of graves have double headstones, a reminder that sometimes, multiple men are killed simultaneously, leaving not enough of either victim's body to identify or separate them. And so two or more men are buried in a single grave.

We went to Ranville because when reading and talking about war, it's easy to get carried away with events like the assault on Pegasus Bridge or the daring attack at Merville, and it's very easy to get caught up in objectively cool things like Tiger tanks.

You have to remember the truth of war. Soldiers - often far younger than the actors who play them in movies - lying side-by-side in cemeteries because their commanders decided the land they were on was important enough to fight and kill and die for. In this case I know the price was worth it, because I stood in another church a few days later, this time in Oradur-Sur-Glane, whose desecrated, burnt out walls stand in permanent memorial to hundreds of civilians murdered there by men of the 2nd SS Panzer Division Das Reich on the 10th of June 1944. But most often, the cost of war is vastly overpaid.

As we were leaving Ranville, Jon remarked that war cemeteries are always beautifully kept, and he's right. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission do wonderful work, keeping grass mown and bushes symmetrically pruned. But it's because we've given them too much practice.

#Writing #World War 2 #Churches #War is fucking awful #however bad you've imagined war to be it is much much worse

0 notes

contrabandhothead · 4 years ago

Note

Talbert. Any Talbert. We just need some Talbert once in a while.

childhood friends - floyd talbert

this gif is originally from here

- CHILDHOOD -

you and Tab had always been the talk of the town, even when you were young

the ladies in their finest Sunday dress constantly remarked that you two would be together someday

but of course, you two were kids, so you didn’t care

the only thing that mattered to you two was who could run the fastest and the glory of sitting under your shared sycamore tree

the sycamore tree had always been your spot, ever since Tab broke his arm while trying to climb it when you were both young

perhaps it wasn’t the largest thing in this small town, but it was the most sacred thing to the two of you

perhaps the only thing that mattered

Floyd did always say, as long as that tree was there, he’d be by your side

you two were the best of friends, close as close can be

you shared everything: your lunch, your tree, your families, your houses, the flu you caught

hell, even your clothes

you two had been through everything together as well, the highs and lows

but everthing began to change when puberty hit

you had started to develop this warm feeling in your chest, a feeling that spread all the way from your aching heart to the tips of your toes

but only when Floyd was around, it didn’t happen with anyone else

when you asked your mom one night about it while she tucked you in, she just laughed and said that you’d find out soon enough

you began to feel uncomfortable around Floyd

i mean, no one would tell you what was happening, and it only ever happened when Floyd was around

so logically speaking, Floyd must be making you sick!

although this was the conclusion you came to, you never avoided him

i mean, how could you??? he was the Floyd to your [y/n], and you were the [y/n/n] to his Tab!

the sickness started to get worse as each day passed

now, instead of just the warm fuzzy feeling, you were getting swarms of butterflies in the pits of your stomach

their wings flapped like crazy whenever he was around... it was almost as bad as the one time you had to give a presentation in front of the whole class!

you finally got your diagnosis when you were 13: chronically in love with Floyd Talbert

and it was the worst

you recieved your diagnosis at Mary Baker’s sleepover

you weren’t even sure why she invited you

i mean, sure you two were friends, but no one could top Tab’s friendship

your bond was tight as a corset, and it was as elusive as smoke

when you had told the rest of the girl’s about how Tab was making you sick, they giggled as you described your symptoms

Alice screeched when you told her about the butterflies, exclaiming “you’re not sick, silly! you’re in love with him!”

that was perhaps the most frightening moment of your life, and the one that unlocked doors to a whole new world of possibilities

you had decided that night, lying awake in your sleeping bag in the dark, that you were going to confess to Tab

that’s how all love stories start... right? i mean, that’s how mommy and daddy started dating

besides, Tab always felt the same way about stuff that you did, so why would he not feel the same love you felt for him?

you found yourself in quite the rude awakening when school came

you and Tab always met at the corner by the schoolyard... it was convienent, and most people didn’t wait for others there

but today was different

you knew he had been making more friends than you, or what he called “broadening” his “horizons” (which you told him was a load of hogwash), but you didn’t know that he had acquired so many in the past couple of weeks

you recognized a few of their faces, like Bobby Olson and Henry Freeman, but the majority of them appeared to be upperclassmen

you watched them begin to make their way up to the school, staring at them questioningly

Floyd always waited for you, even if you were late or sick

your curiousity began to get the best of you, and you felt yourself itching to run up to Floyd and curse him out so hard that your momma would wash your mouth with soap for the next 20 years

instead, you chose to trail behind them, hanging on to their every word... but you soon learned that you wish you had just kept the cat in the bag

Henry smacked his lips together obnoxiously as he chewed his apple, he’d always been a slob

“say, Floyd, what about that [y/l/n] gal that’s always around you, what about her? you could always ask her out, ya know. she ain’t an ugly broad, and her family’s nice. hey, and i heard she even knows how to shoot a gun! ” He stuffed his uneaten apple into his bag, and you knew that it would rot there for the rest of the year.

Floyd scoffed at him, rolling his eyes and pulling at his lip. He’d always had that bad habit. “are you serious, Hen? i’d never ask her out if my life depended on it! yeah, sure, she ain’t ugly, but she ain’t pretty either. her family ain’t nothing but white trash either. now that girl, Mary Baker? i’m going for her, she’s a real lady.”

you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you blocked their next words out, feeling the corners of your eyes sting with each new drop

you and Tab were best friends, you were supposed to be best friends. how could he say something so cruel about you?

you wish you could be more shocked, but you weren’t

Floyd had always been superficial, but you knew this was a whole new level

pulling your worn hand-me-down cap over your eyes, you shuffled into the dingy classroom

you somehow managed to barely converse with Tab, despite the fact that both of your desks were next to each other for each class

you even walked home without him, something you’d never done

it felt wrong without him at your side, like a piece of you was missing

when your mother asked you what’s wrong, you broke down, slamming the cap you had on all day on to the table

in an angry outburst, you had told her what Floyd had said

she wrapped her arms around you, cradling you close as your body wracked with sobs

later that night, when she was stroking your hair on the couch, you finally spoke

“momma... why does it hurt so much?”

she sighed and shook her head, continuing to thread her fingers through your hair as she spoke

“baby, your first heartbreak is gonna be the worst.”

Floyd knew something was wrong, but he never asked

and true to his word, he was dating Mary Baker now

and Mary, bless her soul, she had asked you if it was okay for her to go out with him

she told you she wasn’t sure if you still liked him, but she wanted to check with you before she said yes

and though you were jealous of her, you tried so hard to hate her.... but you just couldn’t

it wasn’t her fault that Floyd didn’t love you, she never made him say those things

you told her it was okay and that you didn’t like him like that anymore, but your conscious was screaming at you that you were a liar

Floyd was getting desperate, he was trying everything at this point

every time he asked your momma if you could come play with him, he always got the same answer

“she’s not home right now, but i’m sure she’d love to some other day”

you were never free the next day, even though he knew you were home

Floyd had even begun to throw rocks at your window during ungodly hours of the night, the pebbles making tiny thwacking noises against your window

he hadn’t been in your house in so long that he began to think that you had moved rooms or that you slept through it all, but you had heard every single rock hit the window

the only time Floyd ever saw you was at school, and even then you still barely spoke to him

you started hanging out with a new group of people, including his girlfriend, and for a while, Floyd gave up

but he was starting to get fed up

fed up with his friends, fed up with his girlfriend, fed up with his mom asking him where you were, fed up with the letters he kept writing you that he never sent, fed up with the fact that your beautiful smile wasn’t lighting up every room he entered

so he snapped

he stopped hanging out with his friends, he yelled at his mom, he tore up the letters, and he tried to forget about you... but he couldn’t

every time he kissed Mary, he wished it was you, and it was driving him mad that it wasn’t

so he broke up with her

you were sitting in the field behind the school when Mary had run up to you, and at first you were happy to see her

but you soon became worried when you noticed her tear-streaked face, her mascara creating inky black tears

you threw your book down, standing up quickly and enveloping her in a warm hug

she clung to you as she cried, her tears soaking the shoulder of your shirt

“Mary, what happened?” you questioned

she just sobbed harder, and your eyes began to focus on a familiar pair of shoes that stood behind her

trailing your eyes up the legs of Floyd, you met his eyes

you narrowed your own, letting go of Mary for a moment

“you did this,” you seethed, anger spewing from every orifice of your body. “you did this, Floyd.”

Floyd finally found his voice, breaking his silence with a small whisper. “[y/n/n]...”

when the familiar name rolled of his tongue, you lost it. jabbing a finger in his face, you screeched, “no, Floyd. you don’t get to say my name. you don’t get to whisper it like it means something to you when it clearly doesn’t! me and my family were there for you, we helped you with everything! i took care of you when you got the flu. i gave you my socks when you lost yours, even though i didn’t have another pair for winter. i helped you learn to read when you were struggling. my mother cooked you breakfast, my mother gave you a place to stay for the night when you felt like you couldn’t show your sorry face at home. how dare you go and disrespect us, after all we’ve fucking done for you! you broke Mary’s heart, and you left me the moment some new people came along. you’re a bad person, Floyd! you’re horrible! i hate you!”

Floyd didn’t see you for two weeks after that

he knocked on your door every day after the initial week, but all that he got was a firm door slammed in his face by your parents

by the 15th day, he had had enough

when your mother went to slam the door, he slammed his foot in between the door and the frame

it hurt like a bitch, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make in order to see you

“Mrs. [y/l/n], please, i need to see her!”

your mother paused at the urgency in his voice, contemplating her choices

you had been pent up in your room for weeks, barely eating or getting out of bed... she could see you wasting away

besides, Floyd was like her own child, and it pained her to refuse him

she peeked out her head from behind the door, taking a good look at Floyd

he was haggard. his cheek bones were sunken in, and he looked like he hadn’t seen a hair brush in days.

your mother slowly opened up the door, clenching her jaw.

“Floyd Talbert, if you don’t fix whatever you did to my baby girl, i promise i’ll skin you alive.”

Floyd nodded, anxiously glancing behind your mother to see if he could spot you

when Floyd opened your door, he quickly spotted the lump underneath the mass of threadbare blankets you were hoarding, with your head nowhere in sight

you groaned, pulling away from your warm cocoon. “ma, i said i don’t want any...” you trailed off, locking eyes with the boy that you never wanted to see in your room again.

you grabbed the book closest to you on your nightstand, chucking it at his head

he ducked, but the flurry of books just kept coming

“you son of” another book. “a fucking bitch!” another book “i will” another book. “clock you so hard” another book. “you’ll fly into next tuesday!” you threw two more just for emphasis

Floyd held his hands up in front of his face, attempting to bat away the books. “jesus- oh my- dear lord, how many fucking books do you have? for christ’s sake [y/n], can you please just listen to me?”

you stopped, but not willingly... you ran out of books

angrily staring at one another, you both huffed in anger

Floyd stared at you, finally breaking the silence.... he was always the first to apologize

“look, i messed up, okay? i should’ve never said those things about you and your family. you’re not ugly, you’re the most beautiful girl i know. and i’m sorry i called your family trash, that’s not true. you’re right, i was being an ass, and you deserve an apology. i only dated Mary to get popular, and that was wrong of me. she deserves an apology too, but you deserve one first...” you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “i miss you, okay? i fucked up so bad, and the only person to ever really know me as well as i know myself left me. i miss you so much [y/n/n], you don’t even know. i used to write you letters, ya know? i never sent them, and i regret it. you’re the only person i care about right now, and i don’t deserve your forgiveness, but i need you. please.”

his voice crumbled to a whimper at the end, and he fell to his knees crying. you ran over, cradling his head in your hands as you rocked him back and forth. you silenced his whimpers, kissing the top of his head.

“ya know, i haven’t seen you cry like this since you broke your arm.”

Floyd smiled, a choked sob leaving his throat

you sighed, humming a small tune to yourself

“i missed you too, Floyd. and i’m a liar, i don’t hate you. what you did was wrong, but i love you too much to hold it against you.”

Floyd glanced up at you, hope in his teary eyes. “friends again?” he whispered, not sure if this was real.

“i missed you, Floyd.”

you and Floyd hadn’t been separated since, practically conjoined at the hip once again. everything seemed to be fine. that is, until the war happened.

wow this is garbage and i just spent like an hour on it... anyways, i’m so sorry this request is so old, but we all need some good Tab in our lives. should i do a part 2???? i hope you guys have a good day/week 💕

#band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers reader insert #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers x reader #floyd talbert #floyd talbert imagine #floyd talbert x reader #floyd talbert headcanons #who doesn’t love tab #i love tab #he’s so hot but so dumb #i kinda like how this turned out #but i also hate it #also no proof-reading or beta we die like paratroopers #WE DIE LIKE PARATROOPERS

67 notes · View notes