#mark andrew wood

[kdoxkeic]

Long overdue… Irish women/men have a chokehold on me

[nahokura]

As a French person, it's painful to only watch english shows instead of American ones, like, nobody in my highschool knows about David Tennant, Michael Sheen, Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton, Reece Shearsmith, Andrew Scott, Jon Hamm, Martin Freeman, ...

[moviesandmania]

REPLICATOR Lovecraftion horror - review - trailer - out December 10

Replicator is a 2024 Lovecraftian horror film about a public defender who suspects town folk may have been taken over by dark forces. Directed by Mark Andrew Hamer from a screenplay co-written with Russ Lindway based on the latter’s storyline. The Good Deed Entertainment-Crash Cat Media Group-Genre Labs co-production stars KateLynn E. Newberry, Brey Noelle, Brian Spangler, Jim Azelvandre, LeJon…

[augustusaugustus]

10.153 Stuffed

QUINNAN: Oh, sensational, she was, Tone. Even June said so. ACKLAND: I did not. I said it was better than you two taking your clothes off at the nick party.

Ray Ashcroft in his second pre-Geoff Daly guest appearance as a burglar whose small children are taking after dad. The other, more amusing, plot is the station Christmas party, with Tony organizing a lap dance for Cato and Reg caring more about the Indian turkey dinner he’s ordered.

[dirtyriver]

Archie #19, June 2017, written by Mark Waid, art by Pete Woods

[ladycat4u2]

Saw on fb. Awesome. Much props to the original artist

[dustedmagazine]

Algiers – Shook (Matador)

On Shook, Franklin James Fisher, Lee Tesche, Ryan Mahan and Matt Tong sound refreshed, energized by collaboration and completely confident in their identity. Switching organically between punk, gospel, soul, hip hop, jazz and afro-futurism, Algiers speaks directly to a world under siege, a cacophonous ball of confusion from which they meld a cohesive interrogation of the violence at the heart of American power and a celebration of resistance and survival.

Fisher’s voice is a commanding presence throughout, and the call-and-response construction of many of the songs provides a unifying motif. In the adrenaline-fueled rushes of “Something Wrong” and “Good Man,” the band rediscovers the power that made their first two albums so compelling. But it’s the engagement with collaborators that provides the most interesting moments. Rapper Big Rube calls for resistance over a minimal orchestra swell and massed distant voices on “As it Resounds”; billy woods and Backxwash speak directly to police violence and the manipulation of white grievance over a skittering drum machine and piano motif on “Bite Back.” Mark Cisneros ties the “Out Of Style Tragedy” of domestic weaponization to victory of political and financial self-interest as the band chants Sun Ra’s “Nuclear War” in the background. Jae Matthews provides the female counterpoint to Fisher and Samuel T. Herring on the lacerating “I Can’t Stand It.” LaToya Kent speaks from the perspective of a black mother: “Burying her feelings with the men she bore to life/Her heart heavier than the body.”  On “An Echophonic Soul,” DeForrest Brown, Jr’s electronics and Patrick Shirioshi’s sax provide a keening background to an invocation of the other dead in the electric mist.

The record closes with Lee Bains III intoning, “When we die/The neighbors will bring casseroles/Drag shows will be held in our honor/… /The marchers in the boulevard will take their knee/Raise their fist/Drop their face/Silent in the midday traffic/Like a stone in a quick river/When we die, our beloved, our kinfolk/Fear not, we rise.” The song delivers a modicum of hope amid the bloodshed and culture war bullshit that drives it. At a time when black, female and queer lives and agency are being erased and their histories whitewashed, the diversity of voices and styles gives Shook astonishing power as an expression of possibility. Algiers may not have the answers but they’re damn sure asking the right questions. The material is here, heed the call.

As a sidenote, in January Queens producer King Vision Ultra released Shook World, a mix tape built on stems from Shook (supplied by Algiers) and his own sound archive featuring guests such as DJ Haram, ELUCID, Dreamcrusher and Dis Fig. It is envisioned as a companion piece rather than a remix, a conversation which broadens the scope of both records. It is well worth hearing and can be found here: https://algierstheband.bandcamp.com/album/shook-world-hosted-by-algiers

Andrew Forell

[jimcarver]

Series 11 Minor Appearances

[ginerva-mollyweasley]

long live is sooooo 2005 - 2014 england men’s cricket team coded, like it’s very swanny, cooky, jimmy, stuart, steven and that lot

and long live (taylors version) is so bazball coded (like ben, joe, mark etc)

but then i also see it as long live being 2005 in the present and then long live (taylors version) being sort of the 2005-14 lads looking back at what happened in that ‘moment in time’

and in that train, viva la vida could also be the mum looking back at what happened (aka kp, 0-5 whitewashed in aus etc)

[a2zsportsnews]

‘Got a bit feisty’: Dragons, Waratahs settle age old debate in fiery League vs Union session

‘Got a bit feisty’: Dragons, Waratahs settle age old debate in fiery League vs Union session

The Dragons and the Waratahs put the age old debate of which is the superior code to the test in a fiery opposed training session at the NSW Centre of Excellence in Daceyville. The sight of Dragons lock Jack Bird and Waratahs back-rower Lachie Swinton getting involved in some argy-bargy and bit of push and shove, showed the competitive juices were flowing when the two clubs went head-to-head in a…

[dinogoofymutated]

Wolverine/Fem!Reader - Masterlist link

You've met Logan Howlett in every life you've lived since the 1900s. And in every lifetime, fate rips you from him just as cruelly as it forces the two of you to meet. How many lives will it take for the two of you to finally have your happily ever after?

General TWs: Reincarnation, death, Major character death (multiple times), Angst with a happy ending. Controlling familiail behavior, descriptions of wounds, descriptions of war, descriptions of violence/death, childhood trauma. Possible historical inaccuracies.

Here's the first chapter!! I waassss gonna wait until I finished part two and post both at once but TBH I was desperate to get this out! I hope yall enjoy this, and I would like to remind everyone that I am not a nurse or any kind of medical personnel, and I kinda struggled to find out about the procedures of ww1 nurses, so take most of the nurse stuff with a grain of salt! like watching a dumbed down version of grey's anatomy lol. I'd also like to say that I decided to make Logan's healing factor slower during ww1 and ww2, as he hadn't gone through the Weapon X program yet. Chapter TWs: Blood, injury, childhood injuries in the prologue scene, war n shit, ww1 canada is a tw on it's own.

     October 22, 1900.

    “Andy!!”  Your brother rolls his eyes at the sound of your high-pitched voice calling his name, turning around with a frown. He always had been faster than you, and today was no different. He had gone running into the woods when your mother had called the two of you in for lunch, and ever the devoted little sister, you had chased after him before she could notice what the two of you were doing. You’re panting when you finally catch up to him, your skirts scrunched up in your fists as you try your best to keep them from catching on bushes and vines.

    “Where are you going? Mama’s calling us for lunch!” Neither of you was supposed to be on this side of the woods, past the fence that marked your family’s property. It made you nervous to be so far past the boundary. Your older brother scoffs at you, turning away once again as he continues to march further. 

    “Father told me that he had set bear traps out to keep the animals away from the house. I’m going to see if he’s caught anything.” Andrew says stubbornly. You rush ahead to try and keep up with him, staying close and looking around anxiously. You never had been a rule breaker, and this was just a little more adventurous than you were comfortable with.

    “Bears? You don’t think we’ll find any, do you? I don't want to see anything be hurt.” You whine, tears forming in your eyes. Your brother laughs at you, the same way did the time you brought some a dying bird, or the time you had begged father to spare the rabbit that had been digging in the garden. He never understood why you were so soft-hearted.

    “You’re going to need to be more brave if you’re going to be an adult one day. Cowards get killed.” Andrews teases, cackling wickedly as he steps on a branch and the sound of it snapping causes you to flinch and cry out, rushing forward to grab hold of his arm.

    “That’s not true!” You cry. 

    “Yeah, it is!” Andrew argues. There’s a bit of a ditch in front of the two of you, and he shakes you off before he hops down. He holds his hand out to help you navigate the drop, and you take it eagerly as you carefully get down, making sure not to dirty your skirts any more than they had been. 

    “No, it’s not! It’s not true! It’s not true because I have you, remember? Big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters!” You persist once you’re finished. Andrew sighs again, but you don’t doubt his answer for a second. He rolls his eyes at you before he begins to walk on.

    “Of course I am. But you can’t expect me to get to you every time.” Andrew says. You’re about to refute that when the two of you hear a rustling in the bushes up ahead. Andrew holds out a hand to keep you behind him, stopping both of you in your tracks. The birds have stopped singing, and you know that it means something scary is about to happen. Dad calls it a bad oh-men or something along those lines, but you didn’t usually listen to him. Now you’re starting to wish you had.

    “Stay here. I think I hear something up ahead.” Andrew whispers to you. You try to grab for his arms as he leaves you, but he’s too far away, and you find your feet rooted to the spot. You’re too scared to move, holding your hands anxiously as you watch Andrew begin to stumble through the bushes cautiously. You don’t like this. You don’t like it at all. You can only see his head through once he’s through the thick of it, and you hear him huff in disappointment when he doesn’t find anything on the other side.

    “Never mind. There’s not even-” There’s a sound of a mechanical snap before Andrew falls to the ground with a scream. 

    “Andy!” You cry out, immediately bolting through the bush. Branches and briars get caught on your skirt and tear at your skin as you push through to get to him. Your brother is shouting and grunting in pain when you see him, tears dotting his eyes as he stares down at the sight of his ankle caught firmly between the teeth of a bear trap.

    “Stupid trap!” He cries out, his hands shaking from adrenaline. You don’t know what to do, standing frozen at the bloody sight before you, mind going back and forth between whether or not you should go to your brother or run home to get your parents.

     “Help me get it off!” Andrew shouts, and it’s enough to finally bring you back to the situation. You can only nod frantically as you kneel by his side. Hands shaking as you help your brother try and open the trap and get it off of him. The metal digs into your fingers as you try to pry it open, your brother grunting and crying with the effort to do so. You can only think of what your parents will say, what Andrew will do. What if it got infected? What if he lost his foot completely? You realize you’re crying as you and Andrew try with all your might to pull the trap open, grip beginning to slip on the contraption right as Andrew tugs his leg out of the trap. It snaps closed violently after, barely missing both of your fingertips as Andrew rolls away from it.

    “What- What do we do? Andy?” You ask, unable to do much but stare as your brother writes in pain. It’s all happening so fast, but god did everything feel so slow. Andrew manages to make out something about stopping the bleeding, and you’re right on it as you press your small hands to the bloody, mangled, flesh. You squeeze tightly as you pray and pray and pray for him to stop bleeding, shutting your eyes tightly as you sob and cry and wish you could do something, anything more to help your big brother.

    There’s a buzzy feeling in your hands, like pins and needles without the pain. You don’t see it happening as you sit there and bawl for your brother, his warm blood on your hands all you can manage to feel in the moment. The blood begins to slow, and slow, and you don't even realize it has stopped until everything seems to be just as quiet as before. You realize that Andrew isn’t crying anymore, and find yourself brave enough to cautiously open your eyes.

    To your surprise, you don’t see anything. 

    All there is is Andrew’s blood staining his ripped pants and both of your hands- but the strangest part of all was that there was no more wound. Not even a bruise remained of the bone-deep cuts that had been there just a moment before. Your tears begin to dry up as your eyebrows furrow, still hiccuping as you look on at the scene in confusion. When you look up at your brother, he’s wide-eyed. Staring at you in complete shock.

    “Was that you that did that?”  He asks. You don’t know what to say. You don't know. You begin to notice a soreness in your leg as the two of you sit there, simply staring at each other in shock. Eventually, Andrew swallows, before he tries to stand up, doing so effortlessly and without pain. He stretches and flexes his leg, moving it back and forth like his brain is still playing catch up. You try to follow his lead, only to cry out in pain and stumble. There's a deep purple bruise circling your leg when you raise your skirt, one that perfectly mimicked the bloody hole in Andrew’s pants where his own wound once had been.

    He carried you back home that day.

    The Great War began on July 28th, 1914. The archduke of Austria, Franz Ferdinand, had been assassinated, thus causing a series of events that spiraled into the worst war that the world had ever seen until that point. Your brother was quickly whisked away into the battle once the fight had started. He quickly advanced through the ranks, his ever-present charm and intelligence being a boon to him, and an asset to many others. He had always been the fighter. Your bother Andrew, your protector, and keeper of your secrets, now a general in the Canadian army. You could hardly believe it. 

    You, on the other hand, had begun to educate yourself at your brother’s behest. You became a nurse, finding yourself drawn to the field in the absence of the many men who had left mainland hospitals to go to war. You loved it. You loved helping people heal and survive, thrive even, but even so, you had become rather secretive about your natural gifts. Andrew, as supportive as he was, knew that the world would never accept powers like yours. As guilty as you felt every time a patient had slipped through the doctor’s fingers, you knew better. Your healing abilities took from you a fraction of what it gave to others, and using it was just not possible in large doses. You knew that and knew to listen to your brother’s warnings. Still, it did not stop you completely. Healing a wound or broken bone now and then in the shadows, where there was no one there to see. Miracles became your specialty, but your medical knowledge had become your backbone.

    At the end of April, you were surprised to receive a letter from your brother, the contents of it being a plea for you to join him in the war efforts. They needed nurses, trained, knowledgeable, nurses. You would be by his side as much as possible, but you were needed across the sea. And well, if it was your brother asking, who were you to refuse?

Novemver 2nd, 1917

    "You are to keep your medical supplies cleanly and well maintained. I understand that you aren't exactly green in this line of work, but let me tell you, you haven't seen war yet." The senior nurse in front of you has no time for fools, you have only known her for a moment, and yet you know this for a fact. Her pace is fast and purposeful. Her skirt is muddied and stained, and yet her boots do not seem to sink or stick in the mud like yours do as you try your best to keep up with her. Nurse Mary is strict in personality and pace, and you're careful to follow directly behind her throughout the busy encampment. 

Everyone seems to have something urgent to attend to, soldiers and nurses and medics alike all running about through the mud and dirt. There are many hospital tents, many more than you had originally anticipated. You begin to realize exactly why your brother had been so firm in instructing you to refrain from assisting any wounded beyond what help lies within sutures and gauze. 

    “How often do the wounded arrive?” You ask, following her into a rather large hospital tent and passing by various cots with wounded men.

    “You should expect them to arrive every day. The wounded are many, but the dead are more, god rest their souls.”  She tells you, one of her hands clutching the cross around her neck for a moment. There are many things you have learned throughout your schooling, and many gruesome sights you know to expect, but the one thing that still gave you chills was the death toll. You try not to think about it too hard, knowing that it’s just the truth of war that good men go to die. But that doesn’t mean you will ever be forced to be comfortable with it. You pass many rows of wounded soldiers as you follow her through, many being gravely injured with missing and mangled limbs, and shrapnel in places where it should never be. You keep your bedside manner in check, but you know half of those men won’t make it through the night.

    “We should be grateful for the men who return to our care, but please keep in mind that we are the only buffer between them and god. You must understand that losing these men isn’t an if, it’s a when.” You nod solemnly in response to her, quelling the anxiety in your heart. You knew very well that she was right. You casually look around the hospital tent, doing your best to help familiarise yourself with the surroundings when a puff of smoke catches your eye.

    You don’t know where to laugh or scold the man, brown eyes meeting your own as he quickly tries to hide the cigar. Nurse Mary clearly had not seen him, but you certainly did. You can’t help but smile in a baffled sort of way, and the soldier- the quite handsome soldier- smirks, shrugging his shoulders at you. You try not to laugh, choosing to simply shake your head instead of pointing it out to Nurse Mary. It’s something he clearly appreciates, and he tips his head at you, winking as you finally pass him by. You hope you’re not blushing, quickly looking away from him with a smile on your face that you couldn’t fight off.

    “Are you paying attention, Miss? Your brother spoke very highly of your skills, it would be a shame if it were all to be lies.” The nurse ahead of you says, a strict tone in her voice. It almost startles you, bringing you back to earth after the solid minute of distraction the brown-eyed soldier had caused. 

    “I- yes. I apologize. Please, continue.” You reply quickly. You can tell she’s not quite convinced but doesn’t have the time to care, reminding you that there would be little to no time to dally once you had been given decent instruction about the facilities. You’re eager to get to work, and decide that there would be no more distractions today- no matter how charming or handsome they seem to be.

—-

    You were assigned work the moment your walkthrough had been conducted. No downtime, no breaks. You wonder if you truly had any idea how bad things would be where you got here. Seeing the wounded was one thing, but reading their chart was another. You felt detached as you conducted physicals, changed bandages, and redressed wounds and cuts. You checked for infections in those with amputated limbs, knowing that death would soon come for those who were so unfortunate. The difference between any of the men was astounding- wounds from this war unlike any that you had ever seen before. You had heard of the new weapons, the horrors that geniuses had developed so that others would die. It pains you that someone could be so ignorant and cruel- and yet even you hope that you would never have to face those instruments of war.

   Out of all the strange and unusual wounds and war-torn soldiers you met on that day, there was only one who you remembered in truly remarkable detail.

    You see the puff of smoke before you see him, lounging on the backboard of his hospital cot without a care in the world. Besides some old bandages on his chest, you can tell that he’s not in any pain. To be honest, you start to wonder if he belongs in this infirmary at all. He’s distracted, cigar held up to his lips as he takes a deep inhale of the smoke, drowning out his senses with the nicotine. 

    “You must be feeling pretty confident to be breaking the only rule we have in here.” You say, raising an eyebrow at him. He chokes on the smoke rather suddenly, trying to recover as quickly as he can as he puts the cigar out. You give him a sweet smile, trying your best not to laugh. He smiles sort of unabashedly at you, shrugging. 

    “Can’t blame a man for tryin’.” He coughs. You shake your head at him, lifting some papers on your clipboard before you find the one assigned to his cot. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his list of past injuries and causes of infirmary visits. How is this man even alive?

    “Logan Howlett, I presume? You’re pretty perky for a man who has such a long list of injuries.” You state, still reading it through. You’ve never seen this many on one chart before- all dating from the very start of the war to his current visit. Logan gives you a shrug of his shoulders, which isn’t exactly a response you would prefer, but he smiles at you in a charming sort of way that makes your heart flutter. 

    “They call me Lucky Logan for a reason,” Logan hums- causing you to huff a laugh. You shake your head at him, setting the clipboard down on the edge of the bed before you begin conducting a physical and checking on his “wounds.”- not that there really was any besides an odd, yellowed bruise or two that you could almost swear seemed to be lightening by the minute.

    “ ‘You new here?” You glance up at him at the sound of his voice, smiling a bit out of politeness.

   “Why, Is it that easy to tell?” You ask, knowing that he certainly knew so due to him seeing you earlier, but you wonder for a moment if you seemed to be any different from the other nurses. You always strived to be good at what you do, but part of you had a tendency to worry if you could keep up with the others here.

    “Nah,” He says, bluntly. “I just think I’d remember if I had seen a pretty nurse like you before.”  The words make you gape for a moment, that smile still showing as you shake your head at him and try not to laugh. He was a flirt- a rather smooth one too. 

    “Do you use that line on all the ladies?” You tease as you pull out your stethoscope to listen to his heart. You listen, and besides the fact that his heart rate is a little faster than the regular average, you don’t seem to notice anything too strange.

    “Only the ones as pretty as you.” He says. You don’t hold back your laugh at that, and his genuine smile is definitely contagious. You check his eyesight and overall mobility one more time once you’re done, trying not to blush at the way he’s looking at you. You feel his gaze even when you step away to write on his chart, finishing things up.

    “Well, Mr. Howlett, you seem to have a perfect bill of health,” Logan perks up a bit at that, moving to where he can sit on the side of the cot, his feet on the ground. “...but I can’t completely release you just yet. You’re free to wander around some, but you’ll have to wait for the doc to give you one last look-over before you can go back to the frontlines.” He lets out a dramatic sigh, frowning for only a minute before he stands, winking at you as he grabs his shirt from underneath the cot- the bloodied one they wheeled him in here with, no doubt, and puts it on.

    “If that means I’ll be seeing you more often, I’ll take it.” He flirts. You laugh, knowing that you very well might have swooned if you had been any greener to this line of work. Instead, all you can really do is cringe at the sight of his shirt and lean down to the small table to his right, the one where his chart had been, and open the drawer, revealing a freshly clean set of clothes. 

    “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Smokey.” You joke, finding his surprised face rather endearing. It only takes a moment before he’s smirking again, taking the clothes from you and doing a mock toast to you with the cloth. You shake your head at him, trying to keep your smile contained as you walk away from him and over to your next patient.

    You find yourself thinking about him throughout the day, both delighted and somewhat frustrated at yourself for swooning so easily over a soldier- on your first day, too. You had told yourself when you took this job that you would never do such a thing, knowing that so many romances in a time like this end in tragedy- but you certainly couldn’t seem to help it. You think about him when the other nurses talk about their personal soldiers, out there fighting the war, and think about him again before you go to bed. It was frustrating! You met a man and knew him a whole ten minutes before swooning like a schoolgirl. You suppose it felt nice to be wanted nonetheless and felt nice to be complemented by someone you found so handsome… But you didn’t need to be thinking so hard about this right now anyway. You roll over onto your side in your bed, hoping to fall asleep soon instead of spending time thinking about something that won’t happen.

    Besides, there wasn’t a chance in hell that your brother would ever approve of any relationship you had with a soldier. You were sure that if he had his way, you would die as a spinster- forever reliant on the family. Your dreams that night are more like nightmares, dreaming of faces and growing old and rocking in a chair alone in your brother’s house, a burden to his finances, his wife, and children. But then there are some dreams where you see the face of one particular soldier, and wonder why you felt so compelled by him.

[poetrysmackdown]

welcome to the 2023 tumblr poetry smackdown

tumblr has developed something of a canon of poetry over the past couple years, and i figured others might enjoy getting a chance to voice their opinions on a few of those poems! poems i chose for the poetry smackdown had to be more or less widely read on tumblr (generally 10k+ notes, most with more or spread across compilations), and relatively short so as to make voting easier. they also had to be complete—there are a lot of popular lines floating around on tumblr that are excerpted from very long poems and/or poems that are inaccessible via internet, and those aren't included here. a handful of poets are represented here twice reflecting my sense of their popularity, but i arranged the bracket in such a way that it won't be able to stay that way past round 2 at the latest. if i missed a poem that is super popular i'm sorry, that said the bracket is staying as is because this was a shit ton of work to put together and i don't want to. ty.

you can get to the polls by following the links below or going to the #round1 tag on my blog. you can also send me propaganda if you want via ask and i'll post it/add it to the next round's post if the poem wins.

happy voting!

sincerely amelia @poetriarchy :)

ROUND 1: ENDS JULY 17 at 6pm EDT

"The Two-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin vs. "Butter Dish" by Leonard Cohen (cow poems)

"Poem" by Langston Hughes vs. "A Meeting" by Wendell Berry

"Miss you. Would like to grab that chilled tofu we love." by Gabrielle Calvocoressi vs. "My Sister, Who Died Young, Takes Up The Task" by Jon Pineda

"Hammond B3 Organ Cistern" by Gabrielle Calvocoressi vs. "Hong Kong" by Sue Zhao

"someone will remember us" (fragment by Sappho trans. Anne Carson) vs. "Wait" by Faraj Bou al-Isha trans. Khaled Mattawa

"The Quiet World" by Jeffrey McDaniel vs "Invisible Fish" by Joy Harjo

"Want" by Joan Larkin vs. "Come, and Be My Baby" by Maya Angelou

"Swan" by Mary Oliver vs. "How I Go to the Woods" by Mary Oliver

"The Orange" by Wendy Cope vs. "The Tenor of Your Yes" by Mary Ruefle

"Here There Are Blueberries" by Mary Syzbist vs. "Instructions on Not Giving Up" by Ada Limón

"To The Young Who Want to Die" by Gwendolyn Brooks vs. "A Litany for Survival" by Audre Lorde

"Night Walk" by Franz Wright vs. "Meditations in an Emergency" by Cameron Awkward-Rich

"Summer Was Forever" by Chen Chen vs. "I'm not a religious person but" by Chen Chen

"How to Be a Dog" by Andrew Kane vs. "Scheherazade" by Richard Siken

"I'm going to Minnesota where sadness makes sense" by Danez Smith vs. "Dream Song 29" by John Berryman

"Having a Coke with You" by Frank O'Hara vs. "Having 'Having a Coke with You' with You" by Mark Leidner

ADDENDUM: at 6pm on July 17th (or possibly a day earlier if there's already a clear sweep), I will be releasing a one-day poll that will give voters the option to sub in "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver for the winner of matchup #8: "Swan" vs. "How I Go to the Woods". this is to help correct my significant oversight when I was remembering which two Oliver poems I've seen most on tumblr, and it's the only time I'm doing this kind of thing, so don't suggest it for any other poems after this please. that said, a sincere ty to @darkcomedies for first bringing its absence to my attention! and keep an eye out for this extra poll which i am calling ROUND 1.5: A HAIL MARY (OLIVER)

[edgarmoser]

babes in the woods by mark andrews

[augustusaugustus]

10.119 Blackout

A very bloody guest appearance from Mark Heap.

MEADOWS: So what you’re giving us is a case where the victim saw less than nothing and the witness saw not a lot. MONROE: Knew you’d be happy, Sir. MEADOWS: Oh, I’m happy. I’m not dealing. It’s Alan and Tosh who are going to cross you off their Christmas card list.

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Fourteen

Day: Saturday, March 9th / 10th* Time: 3:40 PM EST

There is a crash behind Nathaniel, the unmistakable sound of a body slamming into wood. He turns as Andrew forces his way into the room with Wymack right on his heels. Kurt grabs at Andrew but loses his grip when Wymack shoulders past him. Nathaniel has only a second to see the handcuffs locking Andrew and Wymack together, and then Browning reacts to the violent entrance by reaching for his gun. Nathaniel grabs Browning's arm with both hands and yanks as hard as he can. He only means to slow Browning down and pull him off- balance, but the agony that shoots from Nathaniel's fingertips to his elbows almost takes him off his feet. He let go without meaning to and hunches over like that will somehow make the pain go away. Crushing his hands to his stomach doesn't help, but Nathaniel needs to shield them somehow. "Don't," he says through clenched teeth. He thinks he says it, anyway; he can't hear himself through the white noise roaring in his ears. The weight of a hand on the back of his neck says he's bought Andrew enough time to reach him. Nathaniel doesn't remember closing his eyes, but he forces them open again. He tries straightening, but Andrew catches his shoulder and shoves him to his knees. Nathaniel goes without argument and cradles his wrecked hands in his lap. His hands feel so terrible he expects to see blood soaking through his bandages, but the gauze stays white and clean. "Leave it," Wymack says. He sounds so angry Nathaniel knows Wymack isn't talking to him or Andrew. He guesses Browning or Kurt is moving to haul Andrew out of the way before he hurt Nathaniel further. Either the feds trusts his judgment or they can't get around Wymack to get to Andrew, but Andrew knees in front of Nathaniel unchallenged. Nathaniel turns his hands over and looks up.

Art used with permission by Hamrikaa. Thank you @hamrikaa!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

[markiafc]

the exorcist: believer 2023 was mayhaps not a good movie. but it did remind me so much of summer sons which is an appeal i just cannot resist ahbsdad