LIEUTENANT ELLIOT "KURTZ" GRAYSON

I thought it would be interesting to make a weekly post with the books I intend reading. So, I'll just grab a few books and comics and read them as I have some free time between a mission and another.

1. There is always the "ignore" button

2. Why did I bother feeling sad for the lack of other people's approval?

There is something that I always seem to be forgetting: Tumblr can be an awesome place if you learn how to interact with the right people. And, honestly, being mad at the site just because a vocal minority lacks common sense is just not worth a bad case of ulcer.

I do need to put a couple of reminders for myself, the most important being: I found really cool people on Tumblr and will never, ever regret that.

1. From Heads Unworthy, Rise Against

2. Bullets, Archive

3. Beat the Devil's Tattoo, Black Rebel's Motorcycle

4. I Had me a Girl, The Civil Wars

5. Sorrow, Flyleaf

6. Shatter Me, Lindsey Stirling

7. The Catalyst, Linkin Park

8. Yellow Flicker Beat, Lorde

9. Turn the Page, Metallica

10. Glasgow Mega Snake, Mogwai

Kurtz' comments: Not tagging anyone because I'm also completely oblivious regarding who has been tagged, who is who and stuff, but feel free to do it if you like the idea!

[Okay, so instead of sitting here in front of my computer doing nothing productive other than scrolling down my tumblr dashboard and hitting the little grey heart in the corner of every post, I thought that it would be interesting to stop self-commiserating and do some work - even if it's something I'd like to do as a hobby. I'm starting now the prompt I posted in my previous account. I guess it's a good way to practice my writing skills.]

Death was not exactly what Elliot had envisioned. There was nothing glorious in it. There was no glory in pain, torture, blood and in the stench of decaying bodies in an unbearably hot and stuffy place.

There was no glory in a death like that.

Elliot opened the one eye he had left. Everything was blurry, dark and silent. He felt pain in his chest, both from the long torture sessions and the guilt for having failed yet another mission.

His last mission.

it was too painful to breathe, too painful to think. In any other occasion, he would have laughed at his own naivety. He would have thought of the irony of his current situation compared to the one in which he saw himself when he joined the army. Maybe he would have even had made a joke about it, like he used to do when he went out to drink with his fellow soldiers of the Task Force 141.

All that seemed like the distant past of some other person.

None of that seemed real.