#Moe History

[moehistory]

A medical student from Miskatonic University. He is a mad scientist that believes in reanimation of the dead under specific conditions. No matter what others say about him, his crazy experiments continues...

Herbert West

[todayinhiphophistory]

Today in Hip Hop History:

Kool Moe Dee was born August 8, 1962

[livwritesstuff]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFT5575e/

Hazel with Eddie

HA omg it so is

The way that the dad fully commits to a shaving tutorial even though in no way does it relate to his daughter’s audience is so funny to me and also so true to Eddie.

Like, all Hazel wanted to do was get her dad all confused and awkward, but instead he’s just rolling with the punches not even realizing that Hazel has an angle until it’s completely obvious.

Eddie: I’ve been a victim of your damn Snapchat filters one too many times to fall for this shit again, Hazy-Jay.

Eddie: Nice try, though.

[sethsetshetshehehstehtsetshet]

I'll admit it, i hate doing accuracy, welllllll

[puppypeter]

Kinda wondering how a team conversation about fatherhood would go, not just about them having fathers (the good and the shit ones) but about becoming fathers themselves. Maybe post-movie night they're all sitting around half crying about whatever the movie was and it sparks a conversation. And I want to know what their thoughts are from Ted, Trent, Higgins, Beard, Roy, Nate who all have such different experiences both as sons and some as fathers + from the team where some might have young kids already, some might never want them, some might worry that they would turn out like their own crappy fathers if they ever had any kids. I think in general I just want them more sitting around together slowly destroying toxic masculinity by being open and vulnerable with each other. I want Sam to openly tell Jamie he loves him in his life but what he said back in the day was shit and it hurt and I want Jamie to admit what seeing Sam's interactions with Ola made him feel even if it doesn't excuse his words and actions. I know it's asking a lot of him but I want Roy Kent to publicly admit that he thinks he's infecting his niece with the worst parts of himself, even if he is the closest thing Phoebe will ever have to a dad. I want Higgins to share his experience and bring comfort to everyone because he is the daddest of dads.

[vera-keller]

easy company registration cards part 2

part 1

included in this compilation under the cut are the registration cards of 13 more easy company veterans featured in band of brothers (2001). all are taken from publicly available draft records held in online databases and collected by me, and contain details like the registrant's serial number, physical attributes, date and place of birth, phone number, residential and mailing addresses, place of employment and nominated next of kin, as well as their handwriting sample and signature. like or reblog if you use or save.

a note about draft registration

during the second world war, the united states selective service system conducted a total of six draft registrations, the records of which are held collectively in two groupings at the national personnel records centre in st. louis, missouri. members of easy company were drafted in all but one of these registrations from october 1940 through to december 1942. the six registrations are as follows:

16 october 1940: males aged 21 to 35 "within the continental united states". winters, nixon, welsh, toye, perconte and liebgott were among those registered on this date.

1 july 1941: males "who had reached 21 since the first registration". lipton and speirs were registered on this date.

16 february 1942: between the ages of 20 and 45 "who had not previously registered". roe, bull, malarkey and luz, among others, were registered on this date.

27 april 1942: between the ages of 46 to 65 "not eligible for military service". no known easy company members were registered on this date.

30 june 1942: between the ages of 18 to 20. talbert, webster, grant, guarnere, babe, shifty, skip and christenson, among others, were registered on this date.

10-31 december 1942: "those who reached the age of 18 after 12 november 1942". penkala, who turned 18 in august 1942 three months before the cutoff, was nonetheless among those registered in this period.

if you have a family member or ancestor who served in a branch of the us armed forces during either the first or second world war, chances are that you can find their registration card on databases like ancestry.com and familysearch.org.

david webster

john martin

burton "pat" christenson

edward "babe" heffron

albert blithe

darrell "shifty" powers

floyd talbert

warren "skip" muck

alex penkala

alton more

walter "smokey" gordon

james "moe" alley

edward tipper

[coco-bean-1218]

claireeeeeeeeee hi love! could i request "heartbeat" for claire/grant? <3

BLU!!!!! I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!! GET COMFY, THIS IS A LONG ONE!!!

Here is 'lucky' for you per your request! Thank you for being flexible!

May, 1944

Upottery, England

The bar was a cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses, a hazy smoke swirling around the yellowed lightbulbs that dangled from the ceiling. The men of Easy Company were scattered throughout the room, savoring the freedom of a weekend pass before jumping into Normandy. The air was thick with the scent of beer and sweat, a tangy reminder that outside these walls, the world was at war. Claire sat at a corner table, illuminated by the soft glow of a hanging lamp. The smoky haze of the bar couldn't obscure her radiant presence.

"Would you look at that hair, Doc?" Eugene's voice was soft, tinged with his Cajun drawl, as he nudged Claire gently with his elbow. Her dark brown locks were pinned up in victory rolls, a style befitting her striking presence.

Claire blushed, a faint color rising on her cheeks, which were otherwise perfectly contoured. "Oh, stop it, Eugene," she replied, her tone playful yet sincere. "You know I can't do anything fancy with these hands unless it's stitching a wound." 

"Which you do exceptionally well," James "Moe" Alley chimed in, his admiration poorly veiled behind a thin veneer of joviality. "But tonight, Claire, you're outdoing yourself."

"Indeed," Shifty added, his gentle demeanor shining through his soft-spoken words. "It's not every day we get to see our combat medic turned into a dame straight out of those Hollywood pictures."

"You'd think the war was already won with how you're lookin' tonight," Eugene said, his dark blue eyes twinkling with the same mirth that always seemed to dance at the edges of their conversations.

"Oh, stop it, you three. You flatter me too much," Claire replied, her voice a melodious blend of gratitude and modesty.

Eugene leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Claire's face. "I wouldn't dare to flatter you, Claire," he said, his voice laced with sincerity. "You deserve nothing less than the truth."

She took a sip of her cocktail, the fruity sweetness offsetting the bitter taste of war that lingered in the air. Her arm linked comfortably around Eugene's shoulders. They were almost mirror images—both in uniform, both combat medics, both fiercely protective of each other.

"I bet a lot of hearts are breaking across the bar seeing you all dolled up with your arm around Doc Roe," Alley interjected, raising an eyebrow in a playful gesture.

Across the room, Grant stood like a Californian Apollo, his golden complexion catching the dim light as he threw darts with his friends. His light blue eyes occasionally flickered towards Claire, a mixture of admiration and something deeper etching his features into a portrait of bashful longing. He grappled with the courage to cross the bar and step into the orbit of the woman who unknowingly held his heart.

"Go on, Chuck. Show us that California aim!" Skinny rallied, pulling Grant back from his reverie.

"Sure thing," he replied, but his voice lacked conviction. He threw the dart, landing dead center, yet Grant barely noticed, his gaze drifting once more to Claire.

Eugene laughed at something she said, his head thrown back in genuine amusement. It was clear to anyone watching that they shared a bond, a connection forged in the fires of shared experience and trust. Yet, as Claire tossed her head back, her eyes sparkling beneath the bar's muted lights, Grant felt an undeniable pull, a desire to be part of that inner circle, to be the one who could make her laugh like that.

The flickering candlelight danced across the polished mahogany, casting an amber glow over the crowded bar. Laughter and the clink of glass punctuated the smoky air as Claire leaned in closer to Eugene. Her fingers, tipped with nails painted like tiny cherries, brushed against his sleeve, a silent testament to their camaraderie.

Liebgott's eyes gleamed mischievously as he scanned the room and spotted Claire. A subtle smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, O'Connor!" he called out, his voice slicing through the din of the bar. "Why don't you come over and show us how it's done? You've got the steady hands, after all!"

Claire looked up, brown eyes meeting his challenge with a playful spark. "I've never played," she called back, her red lips curving into a half-smile and her fingers tightening involuntarily around Eugene's shoulders. 

"No worries, gorgeous." Talbert chimed in, exchanging a sly glance with Liebgott. "Grant here will teach you. Won't you, Chuck?"

Grant nearly choked on his beer, at the sound of his name coupled with Claire's. He coughed into his sleeve, as he stammered out a protest, "Now, Tab, I'm not sure—"

Liebgott walked up behind Grant and smacked him on the back of his neck. "Ow! What was that for?" Grant winced, rubbing the spot where Liebgott's hand had landed. "—I mean, sure, if—if Claire wants to..."

"See? It's your lucky day," Talbert teased, nudging Grant with an elbow while eyeing Claire with an expression that suggested he knew exactly what he was stirring up.

Eugene's eyes met Grant's, dark blue and impenetrable; a silent message passed between them. The unspoken words hung heavily in the air: 'Be careful with her. If you hurt her, I'll hurt you.'

Claire leaned closer to Eugene, putting her hand over her mouth as she whispered something that only he could hear. He laughed with a mischievous grin on his face. "Go ahead, chérie. Let's see what you've got." he gave Claire's hand a gentle squeeze before releasing her. 

"Alright, then," Claire said, stepping forward with more bravery than she felt. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. "Let's see if I'm any good at this."

As she crossed the room, she felt Eugene’s gaze on her like a silent plea, asking her to stay or perhaps to tread carefully. "Alright, Claire," she thought to herself, "This is your reputation on the line. It took you a long time for them to take you seriously."

Claire took a deep breath as she picked up a dart, steadying her nerves as she stood next to Grant at the dartboard. She looked over at Eugene, giving him a playful wink. "I mean, it can't be that hard, right? All you do is throw it like this-" Claire said as she lazily threw the dart in one swift motion, not looking at the board. 

The dart sailed through the air, spinning aimlessly. Thunk. Bullseye. Dead center.

The room fell into stunned silence as everyone turned their attention to the dartboard. Even Claire couldn't believe her eyes. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a mixture of egotism and disbelief, "Nice one, O'Connor. That'll show them." she thought. 

The hush of the bar seemed to stretch for an eternity, the only sound being the soft scratch of vinyl from the jukebox in the corner. Then, slicing through the quiet like a bayonet through fabric, came Liebgott's incredulous exclamation. "Oh, shit," he wheezed, his brown eyes wide with astonishment as he leaned back against the worn wooden paneling of the bar.

Claire could barely process the absurdity of what had just happened; her dart nestled in the bullseye as if it had been guided by unseen hands. The room remained frozen, patrons' conversations cut off mid-sentence, heads turned in disbelief toward the impossible shot.

Grant, standing a few paces away, was a statue carved in shock. His eyes were fixed on the dartboard and his mouth hung open, the beginnings of a stuttered word dying on his lips. He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed, nor could she.

She glanced at Grant, watching as he blinked rapidly, as if trying to reset his perception of reality. The clamor swelled like a wave, crashing against the walls of the bar and washing over Claire in a dizzying rush. The cacophony was strangely harmonious, a symphony of disbelief and admiration that reverberated within her. Her hand trembled slightly, the dart an unlikely extension of her own surprise.

Amid the commotion, Grant finally found his footing. "I...uh...wow," he stammered, clearly struggling to string together a coherent sentence. His gentle nature battled against his awe, wanting to say more but not knowing how.

"Doc, I think you just broke Grant," Liebgott quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips as he nudged his friend whose gaze hadn't left the board.

"Chuck, close your mouth before you catch flies," Talbert called out, snapping him out of his stupor.

"Wow," Grant managed, finally tearing his eyes away to meet Claire's gaze. "That was... incredible." His voice was a soft echo amid the raucous cheers, yet it reached her clearly, wrapping around her with the warmth of an unexpected embrace. "I've never seen anyone throw a dart that way and get a bullseye."

"Thanks, Grant," she murmured, the words spilling out before a shy laugh could follow. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks, a delicate heat that mirrored the buzz of the crowd. Reaching out, she wrapped an arm around him, her fingers grazing the fabric of his uniform as she pulled him into a fleeting side hug. She caught the scent of his cologne, a mix of clean linen and something uniquely him—calming yet exhilarating. "I guess I surprised myself, too."

He seemed to lean into her embrace, if only for a second, but it was enough—a tacit agreement of shared wonderment. Their connection, usually so fraught with tension and unspoken words, felt natural and uncontrived in that instance.

The applause around them began to ebb, but the ringing in Claire's ears persisted, a reminder of what had just transpired. She let her arm fall away from Grant, stepping back into her own space. The sudden clatter of palms against fabric jolted Grant from his reverie, his smile still lingering as Talbert and Liebgott crashed into the moment like a pair of exuberant tornadoes. 

"Chuck, you sly dog!" Talbert bellowed, his voice ricocheting off the bar walls as he slapped Grant's back with a force that made the latter stagger forward. "Look at you, bringing out the hidden talent in our little O'Connor!"

Liebgott chimed in with a grin so wide it threatened to split his face in two. "I didn't think she had it in her," he admitted, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "But I guess there's more to Doc than meets the eye, huh?"

"Beginner's luck, I suppose," she said, her voice light as air, betraying none of the whirlwind tumbling inside her. Her words were a well-practiced shrug, a way to deflect from the fact that her heart was performing an erratic tap dance against her ribs. Her coy smile remained plastered on her lips as she pivoted gracefully. Each step back toward her friends felt like walking through honey, thick with the buzz of her victory and Grant's lingering gaze.

The clamor of the crowd dwindled to a gentle murmur as Claire navigated through the throng of soldiers and locals, their faces a blur of smiles and astonishment. As she approached her own little nook of the world within the bustling bar, she spotted him—Eugene, his fair skin a stark canvas for the soft glow of pride that seemed to radiate from his dark blue eyes.

His strong hands reached out, ensnaring her in a warm embrace that lifted her from the ground as if she weighed nothing. Her feet dangled for a brief moment in a childlike suspension, a thrill akin to soaring over the hedges of childhood memories. "You did it!" he exclaimed, "You showed them all what you're capable of!"

"Did you see that, Gene? I can't believe I actually did that?" Claire's voice was a mix of giddy disbelief and pride. She could feel her own heart pounding against her chest, a wild drumbeat that matched the rhythm of the evening's excitement.

As Eugene carefully set her down, her heels clicked against the wooden floor, grounding her once more. "Of course, I saw," he replied, his grip on her shoulders loosening but not letting go entirely. "Couldn't miss it."

Alley, then, also picked up Claire and spun her around, her laughter rising above the din, her glasses slightly askew from the force of the twirl. "Unbelievable, Claire! You never cease to amaze me," he exclaimed.

As she regained her footing, the room settled back into its familiar rhythm, the jukebox playing a tune that had everyone tapping their feet. Thanks, guys," she said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose,

'What does this mean?' she wondered. 'For Eugene, for Grant, for me?'

Tonight, she was no longer just the awkward girl with a penchant for solitude; tonight, she was Claire "Doc" O'Connor, the woman who'd thrown a dart straight into the heart of possibility.

[lesbianredhoodedmercenary]

the moeification of don quixote, or 418 years hrt

[moehistory]

Rebellious writer that writes powerfully about political corruptions and social affairs. Her writing has strength to move readers' hearts, convincing them to fight for her cause ultimately.

Henrick Ibsen

[principiumindividuationis777]

Hip Hop's Greatest MC's (Ever)

I am including rappers based on lyrics and delivery, in combination. I am not including mixing and producing abilities, the realm of the DJ. Without further ado...

(#1: Christopher "Big Pun" Rios)

(#2: O'Shea "Ice Cube" Jackson Sr.)

(#3: Marshall "Eminem" Mathers)

(#4: William "Rakim" Griffin)

(#5: Donnie "Mad Skillz" Lewis)

(#6: Tupac Shakur)

(#7: Christopher "Notorious B.I.G." Wallace)

(#8: Calvin "Snoop Dogg" Broadus)

(#9: Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson)

(#10: Mohandas "Kool Moe Dee" Dewese)

[moe-broey]

Moe ref I made today to sorta update its look, to how I've been drawing it lately (focusing on the face!)

Biggest update is getting rid of the bottom lashes, and giving it creases/just the eyebags instead... and also committing to giving it facial hair! So creatureful........ (the chin hairs make me think of goats... the little hairs beneath the side burns make me think of whiskers.....)

Also

[greetingsfromuranus]

Do you think Double D is "moe"?

erm yessssss of course

ive caught a very bad case of adoration for this character its alot

Moe is the perfect description of what Double D is to me

[teamivankaye]

Apparently, Vikings is newly out on Netflix in North America, so let's celebrate it with some behind-the-scenes shots of our king through the seasons! 👑❤️ Part 2 of the interview coming soon, just need to find time for some final edits. Happy #WaybackWednesday! 😊

Music by Ronald Kah

Web: https://ronaldkah.de

.

#IvanKaye #KingAelle #Vikings #Netflix #Aelle #HistoryVikings #KingAella #HistoryChannelVikings #Aella #KingÆlle #KingOfNorthumbria #Ælle #Saxon #king #Northumbria #KingÆlla #TVseries #historicaldrama #Ælla #TravisFimmel #RagnarLothbrok #JoanBergin #MoeDundford #Athelwulf #FaolanBarry #TristanBarry

[vogelmeister]

no because now i am quite literally thinking about how due to the nature of me writing goud after i wrote wings of love (in it, in which, merel gets her happy ending), i unknowingly trapped merel rooijakkers in her fate in a way no other character got. it is WRITTEN by me, exactly where merel is a year after goud and she is still understandably traumatised from that night. it is a huge part of her backstory. with no other character in goud is it that known where they would be a year later, except maybe liesbeth and she hardly counts because she was hardly in wings of love. with anne-fleur, all that was known about her was that she was in love with merel and then cheated on her. i got full control of what i could do with her because i hadn't written her story yet. her fate was unknown. i didnt know what happened to her before the events of the play, and i didnt know what happened after. i could write her story however i feel.

but merel? as much as it hurt me, no matter what i wrote, it had to end with her crying on a canal. she was tied to her fate because i had already written it for her.

[yahoo201027]

Day in Fandom History: December 3…

BMO’s creator, Moe, decides to pay a visit and gets BMO to do a special mission for its birthday, only to find out that another machine is out to get BMO and steal Finn and Jake for itself. The second Holiday-themed episode for Adventure Time, “The More You Moe, The Moe You Know,” premiered on this day, 7 Years Ago.