#guess we gotta make a few more memories 🥰

[ian-galagher]

Mickey's desk

Art by the amazing Jena @doodlevich

Commission for Africa by @ian-galagher

For commissions go here!

[jungle-angel]

Óró 'sé do bheatha 'bhaile

Summery: (Hah I know I goofed and I don’t care, anywho.....) A cool night visiting Hangman’s in-laws in the Georgia marshlands has a whole other magic in itself

Note: The version of the song that the guys sing can be found in this link here if ya’ll are curious. I could not stop listening to it last night and came up with the idea on my way home from seeing this movie for the fourth time in a row!!! I really hope u guys will enjoy it either way (also several OCs were involved in the making of this fic)

P.S: @strawbxrrybuxky​ I loved the fic you wrote and as always I aims to please and repay the favor 🥰🥰🥰🥰

“Damn Gretchen,” Rooster remarked as he came back to the firepit with a bag full of firewood. “Guess you were right when you said it was hard living out here.” 

“Aw hell yes I did,” she chuckled her Georgia drawl as thick as the clay as she wrapped the old olive green wool blanket around her and Hangman’s shoulders. 

“I think it’s beautiful,” Bob said. “Spanish moss hanging from the trees, the chirpers singing at night.”

“I’d take this over the city any day,” Maverick said as Penny inched her way closer to him. “I’m starting to think that Amelia’s taking to it.” 

“Hey nothing beats simple living,” Hangman told them, downing the last sip of a Sam Adams before tossing it into the metal barrel that served as a recycling bucket. 

Gretchen’s aunt, Karen, came sauntering to the firepit, her thin arms strained as she set the heavy load down close by. A few flyaway strands of her still deep red hair, had curled and loosed themselves in the humidity while her pale skin was coated over in a thin film of sweat and her jeans spattered with wood and splinters of dirt. 

“Woah hang on, let me get that,” Maverick said, rising from the log he shared with Penny. 

“No, no, Mav it’s fine. I do this all the time,” Karen insisted. 

“You sure?” he asked her. 

“Absolutely,” she laughed. “Ever since my dad left the service, I’ve taken on alot more than I’m used to.” 

Gretchen and Hangman rolled their eyes. Leave it to the crunchy, woodsy aunt in the family to do the heaviest work. 

“Ya’ll wanna come and sit?” Gretchen asked her. 

“I gotta run into town and see if I can get the truck parts fixed,” Karen said, dusting off her hands, still in the dirty kevlar gloves. “Your Meemaw has begging me to get’em for weeks and I owe it to her.” 

Alot of the guys and girls felt bad that she couldn’t catch a break. It wasn’t easy for Gretchen’s grandmother or her aunt to keep things going on that land that lay somewhere near the mouth of the Tybee River. Ever since her grandfather had been injured fighting in Vietnam, it had been difficult for him to get around let alone take care of the land that had been in their family since their ancestors had fled the famine in Ireland. 

The last shreds of sunlight disappeared on the horizon, leaving a dusky blue sky and the chirping of crickets, frogs and crawdads to fill the humid air around them. Coyote tossed a few logs onto the fire while Fanboy slipped his Florida State Seminoles hoodie on over his head. Payback cracked another beer while Phoenix warmed herself near the firepit, the flames crackling and popping. Sure, they were California folks at heart, but anything to get out of San Diego and into a much quieter place was a much needed change. 

“Gretch, does your family sing at all?” Rooster asked, clipping his aviators to the front of his white-beater. 

“Oh Lord did we sing,” she chuckled. “Pepaw taught my sisters, brothers and I every Charlie Daniels song in the book.”

“Anything else?” 

Gretchen looked up at Hangman, their eyes meeting in a knowing gaze. “Well,” she said. “There was one that runs deep in the family. Pepaw said our ancestors sang something like it.....a long, long time ago. It was a Gaelic one......about the warriors in the clan comin’ home.” 

Bob suddenly lifted his head, the spark of a childhood memory igniting in his brain. “I think I know what one it is,” he said, breaking out in a smile. “My grandparents used to sing it too.” 

“You know it?” 

Bob nodded, pushing his glasses back up into the bridge of his nose. 

“Sing it then.” 

Bob took a deep breath, trying to remember the words that had been passed down through his family for generations. Though the memory was faint, the words were like rain as they fell from his voice. 

“Óró 'Sé do bheatha 'bhaile, Óró 'Sé do bheatha 'bhaile, Óró 'Sé do bheatha 'bhaile, Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh!

Óró 'Sé do bheatha 'bhaile, Óró 'Sé do bheatha 'bhaile, Óró 'Sé do bheatha 'bhaile, Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh!'

Sé do bheatha a bhean ba léanmhar, B' é ár gcreach tú bheith i ngéibhinn, Do dhúiche bhreá i seilibh meirleach... Is tú díolta leis na Gallaibh!Tá Gráinne Mhaol ag teacht thar sáile, Óglaigh armtha léi mar gharda, Gaeil iad féin is ní Gaill ná Spáinnigh... Is cuirfidh siad ruaig ar Ghallaibh!”

It wasn’t long before Phoenix, Gretchen, Maverick and Penny all began to join in, their voices intertwined with Bob’s as he kept singing. 

“Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile Anois Ar Theacht An Tsamhraidh......”

A mischievous grin played with Rooster’s features, unable to resist the urge to join in. He could almost picture his father as his own voice harmonized with the others and before long, Hangman, Payback and Coyote were singing along. 

“Tá Gráinne Mhaol ag teacht thar sáile, Óglaigh armtha léi mar gharda, Gaeil iad féin is ní Gaill ná Spáinnigh... Is cuirfidh siad ruaig ar Ghallaibh!

Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile Anois Ar Theacht An Tsamhraidh.

A bhuí le Rí na bhFeart go bhfeiceann, Muna mbíonn beo ina dhiaidh ach seachtain, Gráinne Mhaol is míle gaiscíoch... Ag fógairt fáin ar Ghallaibh!

Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile Anois Ar Theacht An Tsamhraidh.”

They sang on into the night, not caring who heard them or what anyone thought......just the gang and the people they loved and cared for, singing of a place they hadn’t yet been to, but lived in their blood and called to them all....just as the sky had done back home. 

[alteritymonster]

Will the Wise

ST s02e04

Hello y’all! I hope the weekend was okay for everybody. Check out Lucas Appreciation Week all about Lucas Sinclair from Stranger Things 💖🥰 !! And share some thoughts or rb’s of things Lucas-y if you’re feeling it :) He’s a great character who doesn’t get all of the love he’s worth, so I’m happy to see people talking about him more. Thank yous to @lucas-sinclairstan and @thesnarkywillbyersfan for getting this started!!!

Tonight I watched ep. 4 of ST2 and, as a friend reminded me a few days ago, this really is the season where we watch Will suffer, weirdly more so than s1 even. He’s a character I can identify with in some ways, and seeing him struggle sometimes feels familiar (for mundane versions of what he’s dealing with) and also sometimes feels weirdly rewarding, because he is surrounded by other characters who mean to do well by him, and in fact do. There is comfort in that, of a kind. I’m not sure what that says about me.

Speed limit, Joyce! School zone! Jeez.

I’m realizing that if this were a show with characters I didn’t care as much about, I’d probably have spent more time since I’ve gotten into ST thinking about questions like, What is the Upside Down? What exactly is the Mindflayer? etc.

Theories I’ve heard about those questions that have been at all interesting to me have been about them being extensions of Will’s trauma, or El’s, or about them representing adult abuse/neglect in some sense.

Hopper is so scary with El in this episode, more so than I remembered.

I am so uncomfortable right now

(I start to feel like my memory for things I’ve watched is not nearly as good as my memory for things in real life...)

Where is Will’s head at this point? It’s not like he’s in total thrall (yet) to the Mindflayer, not like people will be in s3...

Wheelers, you live in a cul-de-sac, who is even seeing your Reagan sign?

Dustin: “Hi, Max.” 🤣

Mr. Clarke’s monologue while Will starts shunning warmth is maybe a little on the nose...

Will is literally too cool for school right now cough, cough I’m here all week

“He likes it cold.” wow is that line creepy

Hopper. Why do you gotta?

As of this writing, Billy has not yet died.

The most sinister game of duck duck goose ever committed to film.

Joyce is a genius, honestly.

Mike is being an upright dickwaffle to Max just wow

El, why are you cleaning up? You’re just giving Hopper what he wants!

(yup, i’m still upset)

So I guess David Harbour said in a recent interview that the “Dad” stuff underneath the cabin living room is very important? Is “Dad” Hopper’s dad though, or is it Hopper himself?

Owens: “Mistakes have been made.”

He is surprisingly upfront with Nancy and Jonathan though...

Weeds. Stopping the truth from spreading too far...

...protective secretiveness, almost-lying, truth being love but also being dangerous, there are no gay metaphors here though

Secrets: “what are we, in second grade?” Typically, second-graders in the US are 7 years old. Mike will much later hide behind saying he’s acting like a 7-year-old. What could be special about that age to the Duffers? 🧐

I didn’t know Boggle was a thing in the 80s.

“Mama?” 😭😭😭

“Let’s burn that lab to the ground.” She a badass, our Nancy.

I am so sorry about what I know we’re about to be shown is happening to your cat in Dustin’s bedroom, Dustin’s mom.

eewwwww, a freshly shed demoskin

Poor kitty :(

For real Hopper that is an impressive volume of digging

when you can tell the sun is still up when they shot the shot but a filter is making it look like sunset

Hopper drops into the tunnels and then, get this, the camera turns UPSIDE DOWN we get it, jeez