bitter-semi-sweet - Tumblr blog

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I sent a letter today - something I haven’t done for years

It’s full of plastic bread clips

It’s for Science

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Bothering the beast

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I need everyone to know that the ship Götheborg, the world's largest ocean-going wooden sailing ship, answered a distress call the other day.

Imagine waiting for the coast guard or whatever to show up and instead a replica of 18th century merchant ship pulls up and tows you to the coast.

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have you guys who arent into sports heard about the new baseball uniforms controversy. its bad

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Can’t really argue with this…

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For those of you who may have a Hart or other player here's jersey - This person is offering, if you have one of these jerseys, to strip the name and numbers for free if you donate $35 or more to a charity that helps SA victims.

Contact LBJerseys on Twitter or their site for more details.

If you can, please reblog this for exposure! Thanks!

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reblog to cast level 5 spell: everyone who reads this gets a full night sleep

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ACK ACK.

How I feel about this character

Ack Ack is just so amazing.  I love him to death.  From the stories I’ve read about him to the portrayal of him on the show: amazing.  

Sometimes I can’t articulate my feelings for Andy.  Now feels like one of those times.

I just have so much respect for him.

Sharing time.  I was doing some research on him and I cam across an article that had an interview with Andy’s nephew.  His nephew was born seven years (give or take) after Andy’s death.  In school his [Nephew’s] teacher asked his class if they had any family members that could be remembered from the war and when he said, “My uncle, Captain Andrew Haldane,” the teacher burst into tears and had to leave the room.

When she returned she apologized and explained that in high school she had once gone on a date with Andy.

That’s the kind of impression he had on people.  He was so well loved that even a girl who had gone on only one date with him still started crying at the mention of his name.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Eddie.  Do I really need to explain?  From the way (in the show) they look and smile at each other, how he gives Eddie the helmet and Eddie just looks at him uh. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Still Eddie. 

My unpopular opinion about this character

No. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

That Peleliu never happened and that he and everyone else who lost their lives there survived. 

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Haldane was known for never raising his voice to an enlisted man, but he left no doubt that he was seriously peeved. “I’d like to see you get home alive, son,” he said, “but if you have to die, I’d rather you do it right here with K Company and not the Navy. In the future, just stay away from PT boats, okay?” Miller nodded and stared at the ground. “And by the way, when’s the last time you wrote your mother?” Miller frowned. “I’m, uh, not sure, sir. Maybe three, four weeks ago.”“Well, you make certain you write her at least once a week from now on. And no excuses, Sergeant. understood?” Miller never went on another Navy raid. He never forgot the promise he made that day, either. His mother was pleasantly surprised at how many more letters she received from that point on.

- Bill Sloan - Brotherhood of Heroes

Captain Andrew Allison Haldane (August 22, 1917 - October 12, 1944), being awarded the Silver Star. He would have been 97 years old today. Happy birthday, Ack-Ack!

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Capt. Andy Haldane wasn’t an idol. He was human.

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i am sorry about this

read on your own risk

AndyEddie Four Weddings and One Funereal Au: Andy and Eddie reunite at Leckie’s wedding; they remember how much sense it made for them to be together; they return to each other’s lives

At John’s wedding, they fight jealousy; after all, you shouldn’t feel this way at the sight of your best friend dancing with another woman. In the end, they realize they were idiots.

At Sledge’s wedding, they laugh, they dance, they are happy. They decide to move in, they decide to finally stop caring what the rest of the world thinks.

And then Eddie arrives at the funereal. The funereal of the man he was best friends with; the man who was his soulmate and his other half. The man whose laugh was still echoing in Eddie’s ears seconds before he was lying motionless on the pavement, stuck under drunk driver’s car.

The fourth wedding wasn’t an official one. Eddie married the idea of the man. After all, they were engaged and Eddie knew how much Andy wanted to elope. Eddie did, too. So on the fourth wedding Eddie ever went to, he pressed Andy’s dog tags and with tears in his eyes, muttered “I Do”.

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I’ve totally fallen down the rabbit hole researching this man. I was intrigued about the character of Captain Andrew ‘Ack Ack’ Haldane when I saw HBO’s ‘The Pacific’. Then I read Eugene Sledge’s memoirs and I cried over him. Even though he died back in ‘44. 

I have dug up as much as I can about him, even looking up photos from the online archive at his alma mater. I mean seriously, I am in deep. It’s stupid how you can get so emotionally attached to a figure that died decades before you were born. He was in his late twenties when he was killed, barely starting out. His loss breaks my heart and I was nowhere near ever knowing him.   

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I'll just be crying over Ack Ack if you need me

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Drabble request: Hildane Greek AU (achilles*nudgenudgewinkwink*)

linh my darling i stared at this long and hard and nearly died writing it but it is here. it is rather ambivalent and could be paralleling greek mythology, or it could be greek mythology. it’s up to the reader to decide ;)

—

“Would you run now?”

Andy paused, his hands still warmed and oil-slick at Eddie's back, knotted from stress and ache. After a moment he continued on, digging the heels of his hands into muscle, gathering up a soft noise of relief in his palms.

“What do you mean?” He asked, straightening from where he sat, either knee bracketing Eddie’s hips, to find the bottle of oil once more. Eddie laid on his stomach, cheek pressed to his forearms, eyes closed. He hummed, soft and gentle, as Andy pressed into the divots of his shoulders.

“I mean,” He said, and his words curved kindly around his accent. “Would you try to run away from this, if you knew what it was?”

This and it, Andy knew, wasn’t him or Eddie. Or him and Eddie. This was the war. This was their dead boys, their broken boys, their rusting spears and swords against a stone fortress.

Andy dipped down and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Eddie’s neck, thinking.

“No.” He admitted, gentle. He never really tried to run, at all, when the war had started. But he supposed that the nature of both the separate entities of life and survival reared their own heads in the form of a beast. He swallowed, and his chest felt heavy with it. “No, I wouldn’t run.”

Eddie stretched out, lithe, against the sheet that he laid on. Nothing more than a scrappy bit of cut canvas, it provided the closest thing that either of them had to a bed and kept the dirt and sand and mud tamped down.

The tent was a luxury, an ingenious rarity afforded to them only by their boys as a gift, and accepted by Andy only because of Eddie.

He worried about Eddie, perhaps more than he had any right to. Eddie began to move to roll over, all gold and curls, and Andy got off of his back, leaning to sit back, legs crossed under him, resting on his palms.

He was helpless to do anything but watch as Eddie sat up with a hum, rolling his bare shoulders and letting his neck arc in a gentle circle. He was helpless to lean forward and press his lips to Eddie’s pulse point, his jugular, down to his collarbones.

Eddie huffed a gentle laugh at that, his hand rising to cradle the back of Andy’s head, a half-embrace as Andy kissed the hinge of his jaw.

“You sure you don’t belong to Aphrodite, Skip?” Eddie asked him, lips to Andy’s forehead and lightly amused, and Andy pressed a final kiss to the skin over his heart before pulling back, Eddie’s fingers laced together against the nape of his neck.

“I’m sure.” Andy murmured, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s and breathing around the gentle, overwhelming sense of wholeness that embraced him fully; embraced him whenever he looked at Eddie. Looked at him, thought of him, knew of him.

It hit him sometimes. All at once, like a spearhead against armor. What he was willing to do for this man. What he was willing to kill, to hurt, to maim. The fear of losing Eddie Jones was a heavy, bitter layer against his tongue and heart that was a thousand times deeper and more primal than the fear Andy held of dying himself.

(And Gods, if he must die, let him die after Andy so that he never has to live in a world where his love’s smile wasn’t the entire sun.)

It was a selfish thought, and one that brought him back to himself, as sober as a thousand branches, a billion oceans. Eddie noticed, of course, as his fingers moved to cradle Andy’s jaw, to tilt up his face and press a questioning kiss to the jut of his cheekbone.

Do you ache? It seemed to ask, and Andy caught Eddie’s fingers with his own hand, opening it from its half-curled fist like the petals of a flower to press a kiss to the center of his palm, an almost absent gesture that calmed him.

“I’m alright.” Andy said softly, and his admission seemed to curl at the edges, like the fine paper of a letter. It wasn’t a lie, truly, because Andy could not ache.

Never physically, and, when with Eddie, never in his chest. Metal shattered upon him, and it was the sword that was broken so long as what he loved and protected above all remained safe.

The joke, of course, being that Eddie would need his protection at all.

A boy brighter than the sun, a boy that’s the child of it.

“Do you feel better?” He asked, careful and warm, and Eddie just hummed, pressed parted lips to Andy’s own before pulling away entirely, rising to his feet with a soft exhale.

“You could be a healer.” He said, arching his arms above his head in a lodge stretch, curls falling away from his face as his eyes seemed to glow in the light of a hidden moon. It made Andy almost smile, a graceless curve of his lips.

“To you, maybe.” He said, and hoped almost desperately for it to be true. That he could hold the man in front of him together with bloody hands so that he’d never break, so that he’d be as impervious as Andy himself.

The tent was small, and Eddie rose only to put away the oil, to check the security of the blessed tent, hiding them, protecting them in the most simple way it could from others eyes, from the war that saved and for no true cause that deserved the life that moved around him, within him.

“You’re thinking so loudly, a deaf man could hear you.” Eddie said softly, padding the short distance back to Andy and kneeling, arms wrapping around Andy’s chest, face going to the crux of his neck. Andy leaned back into him, let himself close his eyes.

“Only ever of you.” He promised, a gentle breath. Eddie hummed, and it felt like a laugh where his lips pressed to the skin of Andy’s shoulder. He smelled of oil, of sweat and dirt. Andy almost wished to fall back into him entirely.

“The boy of war belongs to the goddess Aphrodite.” Eddie teased him, a murmur against the shell of his ear. Andy huffed, almost a laugh, turning his head to kiss Eddie once more.

“Don’t tell war that.” He said lightly, as Eddie traced soft shapes along his bare skin. “That’s how it will fell me.”

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The sheer effectiveness of pspspsp

(via)

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Love is stored in the Amtrak

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This is money cat. He only appears every 1,383,986,917,198,001 posts. If you repost this in 30 seconds he will bring u good wealth and fortune.