#anna the love expert

[queenlucythevaliant]

Hello! 🧡 I'm curious how you balance viewing scripture as infallible while also not taking parts of it (Genesis in particular, to reference your recent post) literally. I've heard some people say that Genesis is meant to be a poetic version of creation and therefore not entirely truthful: sort of like a kids' story, how some details could be fudged without losing The Point. I get why God wouldn't give us all the details, and it's not like this is necessarily a core doctrine issue, but I guess what I'm asking is if scripture is infallible, why would it give an incorrect account?

Hey Anna! I'd love to talk about this! It's one of my favorite issues in the world, actually, so please be prepared for a whole lot of passion from me 😆

So the bottom line, like I said in my previous post, is that I believe that all Scripture is true and infallible, but that it ought not be read literalistically. This is not the same as saying that some Scripture is less true by virtue of using poetic language, nor that I believe that details have been fudged. For me (and others who interpret Scripture as I do), it comes down to analysis of Biblical language, style, and genre.

So okay, let me start by defining my terms:

History = A text detailing true events that actually happened. These accounts may use symbolic, metaphorical, or otherwise figurative language in the service of conveying these events. A history is also not necessarily complete in its detail or exact in its chronology unless the text itself makes those claims (ie it's possible for histories to backtrack and tell events again from another point of view; this is pretty common actually.)

Biblical figurative language can take a variety of forms depending on the genre of the text we're discussing, however in general it is used to express truths that cannot be expressed in other ways. I'm gonna quote Lewis again here, as I think his discussion of Biblical symbolism in Mere Christianity is really great and relevant. This is from book three, chapter 10 (Hope):

There is no need to be worried by facetious people who try to make the Christian hope of "Heaven" ridiculous by saying they do not want "to spend eternity playing harps." The answer to such people is that if they cannot understand books written for grown-ups, they should not talk about them. All the scriptural imagery (harps, crowns, gold, etc.) is, of course, a merely symbolical attempt to express the inexpressible. Musical instruments are mentioned because for many people (not all) music is the thing known in the present life which most strongly suggests ecstasy and infinity.

Crowns are mentioned to suggest the fact that those who are united with God in eternity share His splendour and power and joy. Gold is mentioned to suggest the timelessness of Heaven (gold does not rust) and the preciousness of it. People who take these symbols literally might as well think that when Christ told us to be like doves, He meant that we were to lay eggs.

Figurative language is used throughout the entire Bible. It's in discussions of heaven, like Jack illustrates here, but it's also frequently used in the Epistles ("I have been crucified with Christ") and, in the Gospels ("You must be born again.") It's heavily employed in the prophetic books, Psalms, and the wisdom literature (not even gonna pick an example, it's everywhere). It's used frequently throughout the Pentateuch (God "bore [the Israelites] up on eagle's wings"). It is used in Biblical histories ("[Samson's] soul was vexed to death"), though not to the extent that I believe it's used in Genesis 1-11. Sometimes the text telegraphs that figurative language is about to be used, but certainly not always.

None of these things are any less true than the things described in what we might call "plain" language. Rather, imagery is a tool that helps us understand the deeper truth of a thing; it "expresses the inexpressible" without causing us to doubt that the images are about something real. Sometimes, the language even tells us something that occured spiritually/from God's perspective, but which did not literally happen in the physical world (again, "I have been crucified with Christ.") I think it's clearly a mistake to conclude that the presence of figurative language means that the story is merely figurative or that it's incorrect.

So I read the Genesis 1-2 creation account as a largely figurative account of historical events, and I think it's written that way in order to convey God's perspective of creation. Certainly a human perspective on creation would be (a) theologically un-useful and (b) impossible for an ancient person to understand.

To expound on point (b) a little bit: even a modern person, with all the geological, paleontological, chemical, and genetic evidence that we have, simply cannot comprehend the expanse of what we call "deep time." Modern scientists must communicate these things in metaphors: they use 24-hour clocks in which each minute is thirty thousand years and football fields with geological epochs marked off at the various yard lines in order to try to express that which the human mind is fundamentally not equipped to grasp. The Bible should and must tell the story of creation from God's perspective, and to do that it must use figurative language.

Thus, "Days" are figurative days, but as such they convey greater truths about the way that creation appeared to God: it was gradual and periodic and God was patient, yet it did not seem to take eons to him. It was like a week of diligent work that produced good results.

Likewise, when the text says that God speaks light and land and life into existence, we can read that as a statement of God's incredible, beautiful power over creation. The moon likely formed in the "Big Splat," when another planet collided with proto-Earth and flung debris into space (I'm not even gonna touch the formation of the sun-- waaaaaay outside my wheelhouse). To God, these things were as simple as saying, "Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night" and then making them. The complex natural processes involved were simple before the Almighty God.

Likewise, the billions of years that are took for life to evolve, from self-replicating auto-catalytic molecules to microbes to multicellular life that arose from endosymbiosis and horizontal gene transfer, and then all the way down the epochs of history: the beautiful Cambrian Explosion, trilobites and the first chordates, then Tiktaalik propping itself up in shallow water and its tetrapod descendants stepping onto land for the first time; those strange, fascinating club-moss forests of the Carboniferous, dinosaurs and archaeopteryx taking to the skies, the K-T extinction event and then mammals picking up the torch and growing larger, whales returning to the seas and their vestigial legs disappearing, life, life life... All of that, to God, was two days of creation in which he spoke and natural processes produced the glorious array of life that existed when Adam and Eve came to be. He had authority over all of it. He said "Let the earth bring forth living creatures," and it did! God made them as surely as if he had sculpted them from clay with his hands, as miraculously as if He had spoken a word and they had existed in a split-second.

It's all true! All truth is God's truth! Every word of Genesis is God's truth, not despite the fact that it's written using figurative language, but because it is. We can understand truths that science alone can't account for - that in all the vastness of protein sequence space, God formed rubisco and ATP synthase: not by random chance, but through loving providence using randomness as a tool. We can see deep time as God sees it, not as a yawning abyss that we can't begin to properly conceptualize, but as a week in the mind of our great God who transcends time.

(My concluding paragraph is going to be somewhat harsh toward YE Creationists, but it cuts to the core of why I feel so strongly about how we read Genesis. I'm going to put it under the cut so that no one has to read it unless they want to; I'm not trying to attack anyone. I hope you know that I say all these things out of a place of deep, deep love.)

Returning to what Jack said: "If [people] cannot understand books written for grown-ups, they should not talk about them." YE Creationists would have us read Genesis without allowing for any figurative language; they would disregard the scientific method in order to do so. To my thinking, if a creation in seven 24-hour days were the intended meaning of the text- if we were, like children, meant to take everything in it entirely literally- then God would be a liar, because then he would have created a world in which the speed of light and geologic strata and the fossil record and even the evidence of our own DNA and physiology are all lying to us about how we were created. I could not love such a God.

But because I, like Jack, like millions of other Christians, can read the text of Scripture and interpret the figurative language it uses, I can instead marvel at the wonder and glory of our Creator-God, to whom epochs are like days, who can speak natural processes into existence. Scripture is history and it's poetry and it's all true. All truth is God's truth.

#i would love to write a book on these subjects someday #once i'm an experienced expert in microbial evolution i'd love to either go back to school for an mdiv or collaborate with a theologian #to produce a pair of books: one targeted at scientific minded non-Christians and another targeted at YE-creationists #idk it's a long way off #but this feels like good practice #love you dearly anna my friend #thanks for asking this #i hope my answer was okay and that i didn't come on too strong lol #if you or anyone else would like me to recommend some of my favorite books/articles/talks on these subjects lmk #i'm abysmal at keeping track of my reading/listening so it would definitely take a while to hunt things down and compile #but i could manage it #i do have more than just cs lewis quotes in my wheelhouse but i tend to figure that he's someone we can all broadly agree on #all truth is god's truth #ask me hard questions

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 7 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Just when Anna starts to feel settled, a simple cookout at her friend's house turns everything upside down. Her jealousy shines through, and there's nothing she can do to try to take it back.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Things with Bob felt like they shifted back to normal again, and Anna was thankful for that. Every book she let him borrow was returned with a note folded up inside. Some of them were short and simple. When he handed back Love Letters of Great Men, the note simply said The dog eared pages are going to make me cry. But some of them were longer and more elaborate.

She was running a little late to meet him at the usual coffee shop, worried he would already be there. He seemed to end up paying for her drink every single time, which was honestly really sweet of him, but she felt like such a nuisance. When she walked inside, he was there, at a table with two steaming mugs in front of him and his nose buried in a book. In one of Anna's books. In her copy of Wuthering Heights.

Her whole body felt too warm as she thought about how much she would love to have Bob read every single one of the hundreds of books she owned. Maybe even read some parts out loud in that deep, soothing voice. She would love to hear his take on each plot and watch him blush as he called her the expert and asked for her opinions. She would love to take the book from his hands and pull him down into bed with her.

But she couldn't do that. They were just friends. So instead, she dropped down into the empty seat across from him and said, "Hi, Bob," with a smile she hoped wasn't as sad as she felt.

"Anna." Her name sounded like golden perfection when he said it, and she shivered. "This book... I can't stop reading it. I read it twice already," he said with a little laugh. "How in the world do you always know exactly what I'm going to like?"

Because she felt undeniably drawn to him and his preferences and everything about him.

"Because I'm a professional."

He laughed a little more as his pretty lake-blue eyes followed her cup as she brought it up to her lips. When the ceramic touched her, he looked away as his cheeks grew pink. He pushed the book across the table, and when she reached for it, he said, "Uh, just read that note later, okay?"

When she saw the edge of white paper sticking out from the worn pages, she said, "Sure, Bob."

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Did you hear about the change of venue for tomorrow?"

Anna ducked her head. "Yeah, the girls told me about it at lunch yesterday. A cookout? Bradley wants to show off his new grill?"

Bob nodded and said, "Could be a nice change from the Hard Deck for once."

While he wasn't wrong, Anna hated that she still barely had enough money to make ends meet. San Diego was expensive, and when she asked Advanced Calculus what she could bring with her to their house to contribute to the meal, her friend said to bring hot dog and hamburger buns. Anna was already trying to figure out how to scrape together the ten dollars that would be required when Jessica said she already bought some along with chips and pretzels. When she didn't quite meet Anna's eyes, she knew for a fact that Jessica had figured her out.

"Yeah. I suppose," Anna told Bob. But at least at the Hard Deck, Penny didn't usually even charge her for the three dollar ginger ales. And if she did, one of the guys just put it on their tab like it was nothing. When she showed up empty handed to the cookout, she was going to feel awful that Jessica had covered for her. 

"You want another coffee?" Bob asked, standing with his own mug, but Anna shook her head. She couldn't let him pay for another thing. Perhaps deleting multi millionaire Dev Borah's phone number wasn't her best move. Not that she would ever take advantage of someone for their money. Not after what Kevin did to her.

"No. But thank you. I actually can't stay very long today."

Bob nodded before saying, "No worries. I have dinner plans with Suzanne before Mickey picks me up for D&D anyway."

And there it was once again. The reminder that Bob didn't think about that kiss nearly as much as she did. "I hope you have a great time."

------------------------

It was late on Saturday night, and he should have been in bed, but Bob had his computer out. He reasoned that he could sleep in as late as he wanted tomorrow before heading to pick up the burgers Bradley asked him to bring for the cookout. He could stay up as long as it took for him to finish this poem and finally post it on PoetsAmongUs after looking at it for weeks.

If anyone knew he was writing about Anna, he would probably die on the spot. But nobody in his life knew he wrote anything in his free time, let alone the fact that he wrote poetry. And this poem was getting close to needing a 'mature' label if he was going to post it online.

"What are you doing?" he asked himself softly. Somehow he believed that writing about her specifically would cleanse him of these thoughts, but now he knew he was wrong. He proofread and posted his poem anyway while his skin prickled with need. He'd never experienced the kind of love his friends had, and in spite of all of her hesitations, he could imagine it happening with Anna. If anything, he liked that she seemed cautious and contemplative, he just wished she wasn't still that way toward him. 

She made him want to keep leaving her notes in the books he borrowed from her, but she also made him feel like an idiot for wanting to do that. It was maddening. He needed to sleep, but he was too warm, imagining Anna once again in place of his faceless lover while he touched himself. He almost couldn't wait until the day when someone else would take her place in his mind, even if it meant settling.

The next day, he drove his old pickup toward the coast with the burgers and a six pack of ginger ale in tow. The Spanish revival style house that Bradley purchased before he and his wife made things official again was cute with desert landscaping, but she was the one who really made it a home. There was art hanging on the walls in every room, including a panoramic watercolor of the scenery of Virginia. The front bedroom had been turned into her home office, and for some reason, she had Bradley's fraternity paddle hanging in there. The house seemed more lived in now, and Bob knew Bradley was much happier for it.

"Hey, thanks man," Bradley told him, taking the bag of burgers when he got there. He was wearing his hideous Grateful Dead shirt and holding two cans of beer on one hand, but he still managed to give Bob a quick hug. "Sugar's out back, setting up some snacks and just generally looking hot. You want a beer?"

Bob held up the ginger ales in response and said, "Thanks, but I'll just have one of these for now." The last thing he wanted was a hangover like he had after their New Year's Eve party.

"Hi!" Jessica said as she and Jake walked inside, and she made a beeline right for Bob. "Have you given any more thought to how I should paint my barbarian?"

He just smiled as she started to push him through the kitchen toward the back door. "We just played yesterday. I didn't know you'd still be in the mood to talk about your ridiculous D&D character."

"Please," she practically whined. "You know how sensitive my barbarian is."

Bob snorted; truly he never would have expected he and she would have had so much in common, but even Jessica couldn't keep his attention once he saw who Bradley's wife was talking to. Anna had some freckles on her thighs. Her cutoff denim shorts went high enough up her legs that he was treated to the sight of freckles everywhere. And that wasn't all. Not even close. The deep "V" of her shirt revealed that there was a pretty good chance the freckles even trailed down inside her bra.

He wasn't going to survive the cookout if he had to look at her all afternoon. Her red hair was clipped up on top of her head with some sort of claw-shaped thing, and her skin was just everywhere. Her neck and her legs and the swell of her breasts. Her fingernails were burgundy again, just like the first day he saw her. She hadn't even noticed him yet, which was terrible, because if she had, he would have looked away by now. Instead he was given ample opportunity to memorize the way her legs looked as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, shuffling her beat up sneakers a bit along the patio.

"Oh," Jessica whispered, squeezing his bicep gently when he stopped responding to her. "Yeah, that'll do it." Her tone sounded slightly sympathetic, and it made Bob so self conscious. "Let's go say hi."

He shook his head jerkily and muttered, "In a second." Anna was currently laughing, head thrown back in delight, and Bob got the briefest peek at the strip of skin above her shorts and her bellybutton, and his brain actually stopped functioning. When she tipped her head forward again, an overjoyed smile still on her lips, she met his gaze. His brain jump started again as her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and he took a step in her direction before he could reconsider.

"Hey, Bob." She sounded a little breathless as she said his name while Bradley's wife smirked at the two of them. But he and Anna were just friends, and he needed to remember that.

"Anna," he replied softly, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. His palms were sweaty, and he knew he was blushing. He'd never make it out of here alive. Not when she was looking at him like that. 

She smiled and said, "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

Bob was already about to agree with whatever she said, because it sounded exactly perfect to him, then he heard someone screeching his name.

"Bob!" There was a brunette flash streaking across the small backyard, and then Natasha Trace was in his arms. She was giggling next to his ear where she kissed his cheek three times in a row, knocking his glasses askew.

"I didn't know you were coming home today," he said in surprise.

"I didn't tell anyone except Bradley. Did I surprise you?" she asked.

"That's an understatement, Nat," he replied, hugging her tighter when she refused to let go. "I missed you."

Her familiar laughter was comforting as she said, "You have no idea how much I hate flying with anyone other than you." When she finally started to pull away from him, she added, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

-----------------------------

Anna couldn't believe how incredible her friend's house was. It was huge and beautiful, and she had a yard. A yard! In California! There was colorful art on the walls, which appeared to be a collection of things that she and Bradley enjoyed. Her office was something Anna could only dream about, and the kitchen was bigger than her whole apartment.

After a tour of the interior, she stood on the patio in the autumn sunlight in a pair of shorts, something she would have never been able to do in New Jersey. Every day seemed to get better than the last, assuming she could keep the intrusive thoughts about Kevin away. And also assuming she could figure out what she was supposed to do about Bob and the growing collection of feelings she seemed to have for him.

"You have to hear what happened in my Differential Equations lecture on Friday afternoon," her friend was saying as they stood near the new grill that would soon be the centerpiece of the afternoon. "You won't even believe it."

Anna listened for a minute to the wild story, bursting into laughter when she learned how her friend thought she was going to have to call the fire department while she was teaching. Then she saw him. Bob was here with his tidy hair and his adorable glasses and his big hands, and like always her brain filled up with the beautiful poetry she loved so much. Somehow it seemed to go together with him. Those stunning words matched the way he made her feel.

She had to bite her lip in an attempt to calm herself down. "Hey, Bob," she managed to say as his cheeks flushed pink.

"Anna."

Oh, she was a mess. She thought about him way too frequently, even taking the time to compile the titles of some books she had read and loved, convincing herself he might like some of them too. "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

But she stopped mid sentence when she heard some excited chatter behind Bob, and then a woman came running out through the back door. A beautiful woman. Calling his name. Jumping into his arms. Anna was treated to the sight of the woman's lips brushing against Bob's cheek while he held onto her like he was just reunited with the only person he ever cared about. She had to watch as this other woman ran her fingers gently along his skin in exactly the way Anna fantasized about. And when she looked around, nobody seemed concerned by this turn of events, rather they all acted like it was perfectly normal that Bob and this woman were whispering intimately to each other.

Then Anna heard her say, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

Oh. Well. There was a sour taste in her mouth as she took a step backwards as the rest of the group greeted this mystery woman. Anna was going to have to have words with Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics after this. Maybe they tried to set her up with Bob, because they didn't like this other woman? That idea vaporized as soon as she saw Jessica embrace her with a bright smile on her face.

Anna felt like her chest was growing tighter by the second, and then Jessica started to pull the pretty brunette toward her. "You have to come meet the newest faculty member from the English department! Dr. Anna Webber."

The woman looked her up and down with dark, appraising eyes and a little smirk set firmly on her lips. Then she stuck out her right hand and said, "I'm Natasha Trace."

The last thing Anna wanted to do right now was shake hands, but Jessica was looking at her with concern, probably wondering why she was just standing there. "It's a pleasure," Anna said with as much conviction as she could muster, shaking hands as briefly as she could.

"You teach at San Diego State too?" Natasha asked as her smirk bloomed into a bigger smile. When Anna nodded, she laughed and added, "What the hell do they put in the water at that school?"

Jessica was beaming now as she said, "Anna gives book recommendations to Bob all the time."

"Really? Is that so?" Natasha asked, still eyeing Anna like a predator would their prey, when Bob appeared with two cans of ginger ale. He gave one to Natasha and then tried to hand the other one to Anna as Natasha said, "I actually read a phenomenal book last month, Bob. I'll write down the title for you."

He kind of smiled, still holding out the other can toward Anna who felt like she was on the verge of screaming. "No. Thank you," she told him, taking a few steps away as she clocked the hurt expression on his face. "I don't want any."

The uncomfortable feeling was overtaking Anna's whole body now when Natasha leaned a little closer to Bob and softly muttered, "Let me guess... you have a little crush? This happened in my absence?"

Anna turned and went inside, searching for the bathroom she'd seen on the house tour. That woman was mocking her. Anna didn't want to hear any more of that conversation, because it was making her skin crawl. And worse still, she was finally able to identify this feeling as she closed and locked the door and leaned on the sink vanity.

Jealousy. 

She was more jealous of this petite brunette who seemed to think Bob's personal space was hers for the taking than she ever was about Kevin and Alyssa. She was beside herself at the idea of another woman giving Bob book recommendations and making fun of his stupid little crush on her.

This was exactly why she should have never let herself have feelings. When she looked in the mirror, she saw tears in her eyes. "Shit," she whispered. She didn't have a car, so she couldn't just discreetly leave. Plus she'd been looking forward to eating something other than one of her sad sandwiches for days.

The jealousy gave way to anger as she wiped her eyes with a tissue and dropped it in the trash can. Her new friends invited her here, and she was going to stay. She wasn't going to let her feelings for Bob Floyd dictate her mood or what she felt she was allowed to do. She wasn't going to let another man run her life like that ever again.

With her head held high, she walked back outside, making it a point to avoid Bob and Natasha at all costs. She willingly had a thirty minute conversation with Jake and Mickey about the Marvel Cinematic Universe as an excuse to keep her distance. Then she and Bradley discussed the extensive musical catalogue of the Grateful Dead while she slowly sipped a beer to try to take the edge off. Then he turned on the grill, and the smell of food cooking had her excited enough that it was becoming easier and easier to ignore Bob.

When she accidentally looked his way, he was already eyeing her with a confused expression. She could pretend all day long that she didn't care what he thought and that she wasn't jealous at all. She could be so stubborn about this. At least all they had between them was that one awkward, fumbled kiss in his truck. It wasn't like she'd slept with him before he ditched her for the much better looking Natasha.

She was still doing a fine job of ignoring both of them when Bradley announced that dinner was ready. Anna took a plate of food and scooted all the way to the end of the rectangular patio table, snagging the spot across from Jessica. She was willing to talk about anything right now, even her friend's physics curriculum that she could barely comprehend, but then Bob was right next to her.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked cautiously, setting his plate next to hers. Anna just shrugged, and then she was enveloped in his clean scent as he eased himself down in the seat with his knee hitting her thigh. She quickly crossed her legs before scooting her chair a few inches to the side away from his. "Are you okay?"

Anna almost laughed as Natasha found a spot on the other side of the table. "I'm just fine," she said before taking a huge bite of her burger and avoiding looking at either of them.

"Right," Bob whispered, frowning down toward his plate as she gave him side eye. "I just... feel like I did something to upset you."

Anna shook her head, and when she was done chewing the delicious food, she said, "Not at all. You're free to make the decisions you want to make. And I'm free to keep my books to myself since you've got other ones now."

Bob looked at her and asked, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

But Anna was well on her way to starting a conversation with Jessica that could probably last for hours. She ignored him as she asked, "Hey, Jess, what's up with that physics professor who just started wearing a toupee?"

"Dr. Leeland!" she screeched before launching into an animated conversation on the topic of her colleague's hair piece just as expected.

------------------------

Bob was so confused. He had been about to jump at the chance to hang out at the bookstore in North Park with Anna when Natasha arrived. At that point, he honestly thought this was going to be the best day he'd had in a while. Anna seemed happy to see him, and one of his best friends was finally home from deployment. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, Anna started acting like she wanted nothing to do with him. So much so that she asked Jess about some guy's fake hair? Bob sat there and listened to the conversation while he ate, trying to interject, but Anna just wasn't having it. She had even rejected his ginger ale.

What the hell did he do wrong? All he wanted to do was talk to her about books and look at her freckles. She was sitting right next to him, but he may as well have been on Jupiter with the way she seemed convinced that he wasn't even there at all.

As everyone started to finish eating, Bob washed his food down with the rest of his ginger ale. Maybe he should just head home early. He'd be spending all week at work with Nat, so it wasn't like he was going to miss out on much there. And being around Anna when she wasn't even looking at him made him feel like an idiot for secretly writing poems about her. He sat at the table alone for an extra minute with his head cradled in his hands, then he took his trash inside the house.

Of course Anna was the only other person in the kitchen, helpfully washing the grilling utensils and other things Bradley left in the sink. She glanced his way briefly before continuing with her task, and Bob headed for the trash can. He had the perfect view of the freckles on the backs of her thighs, but he didn't feel like he should be looking now. He stood quietly for a few seconds before deciding that he'd give this one last try before heading out.

"Anna," he said just loud enough that he knew she could hear him over the running water. "Can we talk? I just feel like I did something to upset you? When you started to invite me to the bookstore, I was going to say yes. Obviously I'd love to go with-"

She looked at him over her shoulder, and he went silent at her glare. "Why don't you just go with Natasha instead?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "That's not the kind of thing she and I usually do together."

"Oh?" she asked, her voice dripping with something that made Bob's skin tingle with goosebumps. "Does she usually recommend books while you're out to dinner? Or do you take her to see her favorite movies?" 

She turned off the water and faced him without bothering to dry her hands. His lips parted as he watched the furious looking blush that crept along her chest, up her neck, and to her cheeks. 

"I don't really do those things with her either," he said slowly, trying to puzzle his way through this. She sounded almost jealous of Nat, but that couldn't be. That didn't make any sense at all. Anna made it clear she didn't want to be with him.

"Well, you're free to do whatever you want, Bob," she said with a shrug, chin held high. "This is why we're just friends. You've already got plenty of women to choose from, like Suzanne and Natasha, and I'm not about to get caught up in another attractive man who seems too good to be true."

She started to duck past him, but Bob blocked her path. "Whoa, whoa! No, you've got it all wrong." She doubled back the other way, but he stepped to the side until she bumped into him. "Suzanne is my elderly neighbor. And Natasha and I are friends," he said quickly, and he was rewarded with Anna's brown eyes snapping up to meet his. "I've known her for years. She's the pilot I usually fly with."

Anna took one stumbling step backwards toward the sink. Her teeth sank into her lip like earlier before she whispered, "Oh." She swallowed hard, drawing Bob's gaze back to the freckles on her neck as her blush grew deeper. "So you're not... into her?"

His voice sounded deep even to his own ears as he promised, "Not even slightly. Not like I'm into you."

The kitchen went so silent that Bob could hear laughter filtering from the patio through the open door, and Anna's expression softened as she took a tiny step forward. Then another one. Then one more before she was launching herself into his arms. Bob could feel her damp hands in his hair as their lips met, and it was nothing like the way they kissed in his truck. She wasn't tentative, and he didn't pull away as she kissed him harder. This time her body was pressed to his, and she moaned softly when he let his hands settle on her hips.

Anna coaxed him impossibly closer with her fingers in his hair and on the back of his neck, and soon he had her pinned against the edge of the counter. He could feel denim rubbing against denim as she parted her lips and wiggled slowly against him. When Bob swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, Anna let him taste her before her lips drifted along to his neck.

"Fuck," he grunted, squeezing her hips in his hands as his index finger met the soft skin of her lower back. She was sucking gently on the spot just to the left of his Adam's apple, and there was no way she couldn't feel how hard he was getting for her right now.

Those burgundy fingernails were scraping gently along his scalp as he rolled his hips one time against her body. When Anna licked his neck, he forced himself to ask the question that was fluttering around the peripheral of his aroused brain. "Are you going to tell me this is another mistake? Like that night in my truck?"

Anna pulled her lips away from his pulse point long enough to whisper, "It wasn't even a mistake last time. I just couldn't help myself."

Then Bob kissed her lips until she was clinging to him with her back arched against the counter and her hips held tightly in his hands. When he could tell someone was coming inside, he pulled himself away, panting as she tried to chase him for more. He could see the questioning look on her face as he stepped aside just before Mickey and Jake walked inside, arguing about who ate the last hot dog.

Anna turned back toward the sink as she blushed, and Bob was aching to kiss her again. Dying to confirm that she wasn't going to write him off again. He cleared his throat and asked, "Will you let me drive you home later?"

Bob heard her soft laugh and whispered, "Yes." Then with a smile, he took the last can of ginger ale from the refrigerator and set it on the counter next to her. She looked up at him, eyes filled with need as he excused himself back out to the patio where he started to count down the minutes until he could suggest it was late enough to leave.

---------------------------

Anna, you are living the dream, baby! Let him love you the way he wants to! And once again, in Natasha we trust. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@smileybouquet

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@sylviebell

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

#bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x oc #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fic #robert floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

[grandmother-goblin]

Dialogue Punctuation Cheat Sheet

This is just a friendly little guide on how to use punctuation in dialogue since (at least for me) this isn’t something that I was taught in school and had to learn on my own. That being said, I am not an expert! I don’t have an English degree or anything like that! I’m just an avid reader and writer and wanted to share what I have learned in a concise format.

A lot of this information is from “How to Write Dazzling Dialogue: The Fastest Way to Improve Any Manuscript” by James Scott Bell, “The Best Punctuation Book, Period” by June Casagrande, and “The Blue Book of Grammar and Punctuation” by Jane Straus, Lester Kaufman, and Tom Stern. If you’re able to get these books, I highly recommend them!

(Also, yes I used Disney quotes for most of my examples lol)

---

Rule 1: Dialogue punctuation includes the following:

Period

Comma

Question mark

Exclamation point

Em-dash

Ellipsis

All dialogue will include some sort of punctuation before the closing quotation. 

---

Rule 2: Punctuation goes inside the quotes.

Correct

“Do you want to build a snowman?” Anna asked.

Correct

“You can’t marry a man you just met,” Elsa said.

Incorrect

“Do you want to build a snowman”? Anna asked.

---

Rule 3: Don’t capitalize a pronoun used for dialogue attribution.

Correct

“I was hiding under your porch because I love you,” he said.

Incorrect

“I was hiding under your porch because I love you,” He said.

---

Rule 4: Capitalize for action beats.

Correct

“A llama? He’s supposed to be dead!” She slammed her fist on the table.

Incorrect 

“A llama? He’s supposed to be dead!” she slammed her fist on the table.

---

Rule 5: Use a comma when introducing a quotation, such as when dialogue attribution comes at the beginning. The first word of the dialogue is capitalized.

Correct

Scar leaned forward and said, “Run away, Simba.”

Incorrect

Scar leaned forward and said. “Run away, Simba.”

Incorrect

Scar leaned forward and said, “run away, Simba.”

---

Rule 6: Use single quotation marks for quotations within quotations. Punctuation goes inside both quotations (I’ve heard this can vary depending on country).

Correct

“My father said, ‘Everything the light touches is our kingdom.’”

Incorrect 

“My father said, ‘Everything the light touches is our kingdom’.”

---

Rule 7: If there are two or more sentences, the speaker attribution should be put before or after the first complete phrase.

Correct

Grandmother said, “Great. She brings home a sword. If you ask me, she should’ve brought home a man.”

Correct

“Great,” Grandmother said. “She brings home a sword. If you ask me, she should’ve brought home a man.”

Incorrect

“Great. She brings home a sword. If you ask me, she should’ve brought home a man,” Grandmother said.

(Note: This is a rule I break all the time, but I thought I would include it in this list anyway! Usually when the first sentence or two are very, very, short and go together, but they still need that “breath” of a dialogue tag in between. But it’s a good thing to be aware of!) 

---

Rule 8: Use commas to interrupt a complete sentence with a dialogue attribution. Don’t capitalize the next word after the comma. 

Correct

“Aren’t you,” Hercules said, “a damsel in distress?”

Incorrect

“Aren’t you,” Hercules said, “A damsel in distress?”

---

Rule 9: Use ellipses to illustrate a character trailing off, showing hesitation, or a pause.

“Aren’t you… a damsel in distress?”

---

Rule 10: Em-dashes can be used for interruptions, indicating simultaneous actions that do not cause an interruption, or a change in thought/tone. Don’t use dialogue attribution after an em-dash.

Another Person Interrupts

Correct

“He would never do anything to hurt me. He—”

Hades threw up his hands. “He’s a guy!”

Correct

Meg said, “He would never do anything to hurt me. He—”

Hades threw up his hands. “He’s a guy!”

Incorrect

“He would never do anything to hurt me. He—” Meg said.

Hades threw up his hands. “He’s a guy!”

Self Interruption

“I—” Hercules reached into his pocket and pulled out a small doll. “I’m an action figure!"

Simultaneous Action

“I am surrounded” — Scar dragged his paw over his face — “by idiots.” 

Change In Thought/Tone

“It’s not that you’re awkward. I’m awkward. You’re gorgeous — wait, what?”

---

Other Notes (these might just be my personal preferences, feel free to ignore)

Don’t use semi-colons in dialogue. Use a period instead.

Use exclamation points sparingly. Extremely sparingly. Maybe once per 10k words or even less.

After using an ellipsis, saying “he/she trailed off” is redundant. Just skip to the next action. The ellipsis already implies someone trailed off.

New speaker (or character action that serves as a response) = New paragraph.

“Said” should be your most commonly used dialogue tag. Any dialogue tag other than “said” or “asked” will stick out to the reader, and should be used sparingly.

If there is anything I missed, got wrong, or should add, PLEASE KINDLY LET ME KNOW! Again, I don’t have an English degree, I’m not a professional, and I’m actually a bit of a pea-brain, but these are the general rules that I know of and follow in my writing.

#grandmother goblin grumbles

[fbfh]

*sighs and holds up gun* WE NEED MORE FRANK STUFF! IM ROBBING YOU FOR YOUR FRANK × GN!READER STUFF!

assuming this is about frank zhang so correct me if I'm wrong lmao.

yeah no but frank is a whole ass peach. he is the sweetest little bbg you could ever meet and he is SUCH a good boyfriend. literally like he is such a fucking teddy bear. there is a good chance he'll be in the army and/or a vet when he's older but either way he will be revered and beloved by everyone he comes across. he rises through the ranks in the army so fucking fast, he leads countless sucessful operations to liberate civilians and free hostages, he brings resources and relief to people who need it, and he takes down more bullies than captain america. he is a stone cold badass on the battlefield with a heart of gold. he is THE posterboy for the military. literally. he is on all their pamplets posing and interacting with kids and rescuing kittens and posing with uncle sam and all that. he gets such a powerful reputation so fast. you want to be behind his shield and NEVER on the wrong side of his gun.

and when he becomes a vet??? equally reputable and terrifying. there is no animal he can't tame. there is no problem or animal too big or rare or small. there is no critter too feral or too exotic. he is the moste powerful and feared animal expert on this side of the globe. I hope you're ready because TLC has reached out to him multiple times BEGGING to give him a show.

and getting to feel his big warm bear hugs every day????? getting his sweet loving kisses and cuddles every single day??? this fucking tree sized moutain of a man who's so big and buff and gets all blushy giggle kicking his feet whenever he sees you????? unmatched. such a cozy sweet loving warm warm warm boyf. regardless of how big or small or short of tall or muscular or whatever you are, he will scoop you up and spin you around like kristoff and anna from frozen. he does have a tendancy to way overthink things so anniverseries and holidays will either be way elaborate and over the top, or a hot mess because the dove release is running late and the rose petals all over the floor are wilting and the scented candles are too strong and they're making the chocolates melt and oh gods. when you tell him you love it no matter how it works out, you love that he thinkis of you like this, you love being with him??? GOD he will melt. he will melt into your arms and pull you into his big buff embrace and never ever let go.

#drabbles #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus drabbles #heroes of olympus x reader #frank zhang #frank zhang x reader #frank zhang drabbles #if you meant frank gallagher then uh #he gets you booze for your birthday and drinks most of it /j

[eagleeyecherrypie]

Dickkory fans were robbed and malnourished: a rant

Being a fan of Richonne and watching how The Ones Who Live played out really makes me see how absolutely starved we were as Dickkory fans. I finished TOWL with mixed emotions. On the one hand I was over the moon with happiness. On the other, I was sad and jealous…of myself. What I mean is, the part of me that is a Dickkory fan was savagely jealous of the Richonne fan in me. One was over here fat and happy while the other was counting her ribs again. Both shows had the same potential with the chemistry between their two leads being off the charts. TOWL showed us what could have been while Titans left me wanting and there is no excuse for it.

Exhibit A:

I’ve lost count of how many times Rick declared his undying love for Michonne both in actions AND (very importantly) in words. I mean, I’m so full I’m about to pop.

It literally got to a point like “Dude we get it. She’s the air you breathe and you can’t imagine your life without her. Okay, okay.”

We. Were. FED!!

Exhibit B (or as a lesser man might say, Number 2):

Meanwhile Dickkory fans (me included) are/were over here living off crumbs and trying to find meaning in anything and everything. We all became experts in body language and read into everything we could just to add substance to their story:

“See, every time she touches him he short circuits. Dude is down bad”

Or “When he paused and sighed while mentioning her boyfriend that one time, that means he’s so in love with her that it pains him to imagine her with someone else”

Even the actual “love confession” was weak in my opinion. Far too passive.

I know Titans was not a love story but the man couldn’t have just said the words one time? Or at least used his actual words to discuss how he felt about seeing their baby from the future.

Don’t get me wrong, we got the occasional full bites instead of crumbs, but I would argue that this made the situation even worse. They got our hopes up. We got a glimpse of what could have been.

The show should have just kept all of that instead of teasing us with a love story so RICH with potential only to let us down again and again. They basically either completely ignored it or just keep dangling it in our faces until the final credits rolled. Not to mention the absolute travesty of the wasted chemistry between two actors. Brenton and Anna did the best they could with what they were given. I believe the few crumbs we got were mostly coming from them trying to drive the story along. We all loved the build up in season 1 (the GOAT) but they (the writers) completely lost momentum.

I could even forgive some of this if they just ran out of time to tell the story (again, I get it, Titans wasn’t a love story), but the truth is that they wasted so much time on unnecessary and frankly boring storylines:

🥱

🙄Why? What were the writers actually trying to accomplish here? Who or what was holding them back from greatness?

In conclusion:

Fan fiction is the only thing that got me through with Titans. (Shout out to the ones who held it down with those BTW. I’ve pretty much read them all.) Meanwhile, I personally haven’t read even one story about Rick and Michonne because there is zero need. I left fully satisfied with zero notes. Their story is complete.

Le sigh 😔

#dickkory #titans hbo #koriand'r #dick grayson #richonne #twd towl #dc titans #not my gif #towl #towl spoilers

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions

Next Chapter

The day is here! The one I hope some of you have been waiting for, the first chapter of my first Dave York fic. I hope you love it as much as I love writing it!

Series Summary: Defense intelligence conferences are always the same informative but also always boring. You didn't expect anything different for this one, but an unexpected meeting with a man named Dave York, changes the trajectory of your conference experience and maybe even more.

Rating/Warnings: This chapter is MA, no smut yet, build up and tension are the name of the game

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Also used this song for a little bit of inspiration -

Chapter 1: When He Sees Me

“If you have any more questions or comments, I’ve got my official contact information here,” you spoke clearly as you pointed to the screen behind you, “thank you for your time.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised with the number of attendees at your breakout session. The use of AI in defense intelligence continued to be the hot topic in the intelligence community especially for this year’s conference. You hadn’t spent years of nearly sleepless nights and exhausting mornings with development and research to not be considered one of the foremost experts on the subject.

Professionalism and a line of people eager to speak with you prevented you from leaving when you wanted. You scanned the room full of individuals in stuffy business suits and some in even stuffier medal-decorated uniforms. If you didn’t hold your breath, you’d pass out from the stench of testosterone-fueled arrogance.

“So when I think about AI, the pattern analysis and the information clusters---I kind of get how it makes our jobs easier, in theory,” you heard a voice laden with contemplation but also with condescension say.

You were crouched on the ground packing up your laptop, power cord, and briefcase eager to leave. You stretched your fingers and then closed them into tight fists before opening them again. Tension filled your shoulders, chest, and back as you zipped your briefcase. You took a deep, cooling breath through your nose, holding it in and letting it expand in your lungs until swirling notes of calm slowly began to circulate within you.

“But?” You looked up, slowly releasing the calming air from your lips. When you stood up, you were taken aback by the sight of a roguishly handsome man.

He stood before you, both hands on his hips in a posture that aimed to imbue you with intimidation at his authority. You held his brown-eyed stare with your own, always looking for an excuse to use your well-honed observation skills. He wore a well-fitting, but simultaneously well-used navy blue suit, worn just enough that you assumed he reserved it especially for conferences. You concluded that he be must upper-level management with a defense contractor, but more likely a high-level manager at an intelligence agency.

“I think AI’s shortcoming is its innate lack of understanding of human behavior,” he stated with a shrug. “A lack of human perception means you can’t analyze and decipher intent and it can’t interpret how we make decisions based on feeling, based on interpersonal communication.”

“You assume that this is a problem that’s not being taken into consideration,” the urge to defend your work was palpating in your veins. “More funding and support is needed for human analysts; how else do you think innovation would move forward?”

He took his right hand and rubbed the side of his face, while smoothing the side of his brown hair. His expression was full of collected calm paired with a confidence that you somehow suspected was well-earned. That pissed you off the most. He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and lips curled up into a smirk, revealing a dimple on his right cheek on his clean-shaven face.

“Hmm,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on you like it was a challenge he had to win, “your misplaced hostility speaks volumes.”

A tightness grew in your shoulders and rose to your neck from the nerve of his words. You clenched your jaw, your tongue pressing tightly at the roof of your mouth behind your teeth.

“But not quite as loud as your misogyny,” the words left your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Enjoy the rest of the conference.”

You glided away, disallowing him the chance to introduce or explain himself. You shook hands with attendees while giving away dazzling smiles as you made your escape. It was easy to weave through the crowd, as most people found ways to linger and speak to good friends and long-lost acquaintances. That was just how international conferences worked.

Fortune was in your favor as you found solace in an elevator. You backed yourself into one of the corners, continuing to people watch as more conference-attendees entered. You noted a man in his mid-to-late 50s, his graying blonde hair cut close to his head and his blue uniform filled with rows of medals and insignias. He was followed by a couple, who appeared to be trying their hardest to hide their intimacy with each other through closed-off, professional postures. But you knew better. The way they looked at each other screamed at you that they used this annual conference to conduct their long-standing affair.

A groan nearly escaped you, when you saw the same man who approached you after your presentation. His eyes were alight with intense determination and his brows knitted towards each other, creasing the space just above his nose. A tight intensity settled over your chest and neck as you backed yourself further into your corner of the elevator. The unremitting concentration that inhabited his eyes gave you the distinct feeling of being hunted. You tried as fast as you could to avert your eyes away from him. The dimple that revealed itself in the errant grin he gave you when his eyes met yours told you that you failed. 

You made every attempt to affect disinterest, placing hyper focus on your phone, examining the cuticles of every single one of your nails, even staring at the floor. You barely paid attention as the people you shared the elevator with exit at their floor. Not even the surreptitious couple, who you assumed left the elevator at the same time. Inevitably, the handsome and arrogant stranger was the only one who remained.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” you heard him say.

“Hm?” You could feel your brow beginning to furrow as your attitude fought against your level-headedness to gain control. “I’m sorry?”

“You called me a misogynist,” Dave reminded you with a smirk, speaking of it as a badge he wore with honor.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” you sighed the sarcasm dripping from every word, “and I’m hostile.”

“No,” the voice he spoke with was calculating and unmoving, “I said you had hostility, and you took it upon yourself to assume that I was a misogynist.”

“Semantics,” you said your voice was quick like it was jumping from a trap.

“I’m not the kind of man stupid enough to belittle someone’s life’s work,” he raised his hands up as if he was conceding to you, “especially when she’s clearly brilliant.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he spoke those words, trying to decipher if there was some kind of hidden meaning or intent behind them. There was an air about him that commanded your attention. Perhaps it was the dichotomy that he seemed to present the further you observed him. He was competent yet personable, casual yet professional, and guarded but disarming. You worked through these thoughts in your mind as the whirring of the elevator took over as it continued upward.

“Well, at least you’re smart enough to know when you’ve made a mistake,” you said with a nod of your head.

“Are you going to the networking social?”

You weren’t certain if he was simply curious or was inviting you.

“Oh god no,” you were quick to answer with a loud groan, almost too loud, “that’s just not my thing.”

The handsome stranger shrugged, “They’re usually filled with self-righteous assholes, anyway.”

The accuracy and the irony of his statement bubbled up laughter from your belly. A feeling made of confusion, guilt, and absurdity came over you as you felt yourself beginning to let your guard down. He wasn’t supposed to apologize. He wasn’t supposed to be interesting or intriguing. He should have just been a one-dimensional, arrogant asshole.

“Well,” you spoke, an unexpected grin forming on your lips, “looks like we might actually be on the same page this time.”

He held his hand out and offered you a smile full of purpose. “I’m Dave, Dave York, D.I.A.”

The immediacy with which you gave him your name surprised you. As he shook your hand you noted a slight awkwardness to his grip, though you could tell he was making every effort to give you a strong handshake. The skin on the inside of his palm and his fingertips were slightly weathered with scar tissue. You noticed the cold feeling of metal on his left-hand ring finger and took note of the wedding ring, trying not to frown. A corner of your brain wondered about the stories that could be found in the lines of those weathered hands.

“Hmm, D.I.A.,” you murmur to yourself. “Was following me to the elevator just your creepy way of getting me to talk shop with you?”

“You think I’d be that obvious?” His voice lowered an octave when he turned to face you and a chill tingled all over you.

“Well I don’t know you,” you replied with a shrug, “but I’d say if you were, you’d be pretty shitty at your job.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you don’t you, firefly,” he said, his brow lowering as he took one step toward you.

His hands tightened on his hips as he stepped toward you and he squared his shoulders behind him. Your brain took stock of each movement, at each attempt to make himself seem bigger and you seem smaller. A wicked little laugh brewed inside your abdomen as you accepted his challenge, moving one inch forward. You were close enough to breathe in his scent and your gaze moved from his neck, up to his lips and then to his eyes. 

“When you’re a woman in the IC, you’ve got to find ways to adapt; it’s nothing personal.”

An unremorseful apology. 

The elevator bell rang out with a loud ding.

“This is my stop,” holding your gaze to him, neither of you moved

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime this week.”  

“Maybe,” you agreed with the tilt of your head, that felt almost too flirty to you. “Enjoy the rest of your conference.

“You too,” he affirmed as he pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly becoming engrossed by a text message that you suspected was from his spouse.

Slight disappointment set in that you could not continue the conversation, but your exhaustion was quickly winning out. Your eyelids and muscles felt heavy as they screamed louder for rest. You ambled to your room and as you opened the door you immediately kicked off your high heels and shook your arms out of your blazer, tossing it on the bed. You walked back to the bathroom and reached into the shower, turning the dial towards hot. Mindlessly, you began unbuttoning your light coral blouse when you heard a knock at your room door. An audible sigh of frustration left you as you quickly turned the water off.

Who could possibly have any reason to bother me right now, you thought to yourself, using the peephole to look outside.

“Hey, it’s me,” you saw and heard your coworker from the other side of the door, “Brad.”

You took a deep breath, making your annoyance before opening the door.

“Hi, Brad,” you greeted tentatively, “everything OK?” 

“Oh yeah, everything is fine,” he replied with a grin that was too perfectly and polished. “Heard you did a good job on your presentation.”

“Heard?” You said with a raised brow.

“That’s the word from all the guys I’ve run into who attended,” he explained leaning against your doorway. “They were really impressed with you.”

A wave of exhaustion immediately took over your shoulders and you stepped back. You felt inconvenienced and nearly disgusted as you observed Brad’s eyes meet yours but travel down the length of your body. Every word that left him wrapped you in disgust.  The perfection that he displayed reeked of privilege. He was the typical aging former college frat boy and it did nothing for you. The entitlement he wore on his shoulders might as well have been a flashing, neon sign shouting out that he could get away with anything. 

“That’s cool,” you say quickly, inching closer and closer to shutting the door. “Well, I’m going to finish up some reports and turn in; I am beat.”

“What?” he stared back at you in confusion. “It’s not even 6 yet, and happy hour’s just started.”

“And you are much better at rubbing shoulders with the bigwigs, B,” you compliment hoping it would make him leave faster. “Work that magic of yours. Happy-hour it and let me know how it goes?”

You shut the door quickly hoping that you left him dumbfounded.

With him gone you were able to return to all the things you planned to bring you relaxation. You returned to the shower, the water warming quickly. The warmth of the water encompassed you, easing the tension of your neck, shoulders, and back muscles. You stepped out, wrapping yourself in a towel. The next hours were perfectly mundane. You wrapped yourself in a hotel robe, had a light dinner, read for fun, and basked in your nightly skincare routine. Before you knew it you had fallen asleep in your bathrobe with the tv on.

You woke up with a start, your brain hazy with confusion. Rolling over, you were greeted with the bright light of the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. 12:12 AM. You weren’t even sure what time you had fallen asleep. You nestled yourself back into the bed, trying to will the white noise of the air conditioner and soft fullness of the down comforter to lull you back to sleep. Instead, you found yourself tossing and turning and very much awake.

With frustration, you pull on a pair of high-waisted sweatpants and a yellow tank top, layering your navy-blue blazer over it to appear at least halfway decent. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, brushing fingers through your hair before securing it into a messy French twist with one of your hair clips. A puff of air left from your lips as you chuckled at yourself.

Don’t be ridiculous, you thought to yourself. You’re not trying to impress anybody.

The silence of the empty halls amplified the echo of your light footsteps towards the elevator. You waited patiently, with arms crossed until you found yourself on the ground level of the hotel. Relief washed over you when you noticed that the hotel bar was less busy than you expected. The bartender attended to you quickly filling your order of a whiskey, allowing you to find a quiet corner booth to enjoy your drink.  The bar was open to the lobby and allowed you to people watch as you took slow sips of your drink. You glanced at your watch.

12:57 am. No one interesting is going to walk through those doors at this hour.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the smokiness coat your lips, tongue, and the back of your throat with sweet burn before you looked up again, noticing a familiar, handsome face walk through the lobby doors. Dave. He was rubbing his hands from the cold December air and his brown hair was covered in a dark gray beanie. You kept your eyes on him, thinking he wouldn’t notice until he locked eyes with you and raised his right arm with a wave. He stopped, shuffling his feet beneath him with indecision until he began to walk towards the bar, towards you.

“We meet again,” you greeted, gesturing for him to take a seat across from you. “Back late, I see.”

“Ah, yeah,” he acknowledged his arrival as though it were an afterthought, “sometimes you get caught up with colleagues and you just don’t have a choice.”

“True,” you agreed, “I get it.”

“What about you?” He inquired, pointing towards your drink. “You’re up late.”

“Oh, yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, taking another sip of it, “that’s why I look like this.”

You waved your hands towards yourself, trying to emphasize how completely unimpressive your appearance was. A chill overcame you as his expression changed, his brow furrowing almost scornfully.

“I don’t know about that,” his eyes reading every inch of you from your head all the way down to your toes, “you look…good.”

Goosebumps tiptoed up and down your arms, like little finger tips tapping and teasing you. You unconsciously crossed and uncrossed your legs, feeling the fabric of your underwear rub against you, your entrance welling with your own sweet dew. Your eyes took a split-second glimpse of his wedding ring. Against your better judgment, you allowed yourself to smile at his compliment. You traced the rim of your whiskey-filled lowball glass, thinking how to respond.

“Congratulations, you have eyes,” you quipped, coaxing a low, growling laugh from him before you continued. “So, I couldn’t sleep, and I came down here to people watch.”

He leaned forward at your comment, his brown eyes round and wide as he raised his eyebrows with interest. His shoulders loosened and his newly relaxed demeanor invited more conversation.

“You like that?” He asked, his brows raised with curiosity. “People watching, I mean.”

The double entendre that left his pouted lips electrified you, feeling his electricity unexpectedly flick at your nipples and then at your core. The dim lighting of the hotel bar, the light jazz music playing over the speakers, and your hushed voices amplified the mysterious ambience around you. All of it together seemed so perfect that you couldn’t help following his lead, so you leaned in closer. Even in a beanie and wearing a thick jacket, you found him nearly irresistible.

“It’s a favorite pastime of mine,” you answered, keeping your eyes on him, “I like to think about people’s stories, people’s personal stories.”

“Is that why you were looking at me, observing me?” His tone dipped in a thin layer of accusation coupled with intense interest. “Trying to figure out my story?”

You stare back at him with a deep breath, wondering why you kept engaging when you knew you should stop.

“I’m not surprised you noticed,” you stated nonchalantly, “as unsurprised as you probably are about me wondering about your wedding ring.”

He strained his left hand open and closed, looking at his own ring as though it was a triviality. To your surprise, he leaned toward you even more, like a challenge.

“You know there’s a lot more to people’s stories than what you can piece together from a fleeting observation,” as he spoke, it felt like his charisma was vibrating off him and floating towards you. “Life, relationships are messy, complicated.”

 You read the unspoken words that uttered from the moves of his body. One hand resting open in the empty space between you in the booth. The fingers of his other hand rubbing at his chin and lips, which curled into an enticing smile. These movements and these words lingered in your brain, until you understood that they were filled with intrigue and desire. You breathed them in and mirrored them.

“So what about your story Dave,” you inquired, leaning in but making sure you kept your eyes to his, “your life, your relationship?”

You found yourself involuntarily licking your lips. The whiskey along with the heat of embarrassment flushed your cheeks and neck. It had you finally admitting to yourself that this man was really fucking attractive. He tilted his head towards you, smiled, and damn near melted you as he traced the bottom of his pouty lips with his thumb. Your eyes tracing every move of his immense, sinewy hands, as he checked the time on his gold watch.

1:47 AM.

“It’s too late right now to tell you that,” he teased, drawing a slight huff of frustration from you, “Ask me tomorrow night, here at the bar. 7:30.”

“How presumptuous of you to assume I’d be available,” you said, tipping your whiskey towards him, impressed by his ability to avoid answering a hard question.  

 “Oh firefly, you’re not the only one who’s good at reading people,” the words left his lips luring you and trapping you like a vice. “Nothing about this tells me you’ll say no.”

Dave gestured at the narrow space between you, his hand almost cutting through the warm air like a sharp blade. The innuendo of his words threatened to set you ablaze. You took another sip of whiskey, allowing it to warm and loosen your muscles, allowing it to calm you.

“Well then,” you willed yourself to hold your tongue lightly against your lips before breathing out the last word, “tomorrow.”

With a nod of confirmation, he stood up and swaggered towards the elevators. An audible gasp that had been saving itself in your lungs escaped you when you knew for sure that he was gone. You chased it with a final gulp of your whiskey, feeling its exquisite burn as it moved through you. Leaving a tip on the table, you stood up and made your way towards the elevator.

Tomorrow night. Your brain spoke to you again.

At that moment the elevator doors opened, and you entered. You returned to your room, discarding your blazer and sweat pants, before plopping into bed. You grabbed the fluffy comforter up to your chin, inviting in and surrendering to sleep.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #dave york x female reader #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #equalizer 2 #Spotify #juice bar collective #juice collective

[whynotshaveme]

Saturday Night At Bob's Barbershop

By whynotshaveme

Mary Greenwood and her wife Anna arrived at Bob's Barbershop around closing time. Mary is a stern woman in her early 50s with close-cropped black hair. Anna is much younger with long blonde hair flowing down her back. She flinched as her wife grabbed a number. She, however, sat down next her submissively as they waited to be called.

Bob, the owner of Bob's Barbershop, was the only barber present. Curious, once he finished up with what he'd thought was his last customer for the night, he called the two women over. Mary stood up first. Anna hesitated, but one stern glance from her wife got her to her feet and over to Bob's chair.

"Sit down," said Mary.

Then she told Bob that her wife needed a short haircut. Bob wrapped his hairs around Anna's blonde hair and held it away from her as he capped her. He rarely got to touch hair other than his own wife's, so he savored the feel of it in his hands. From how healthy it felt, Anna was clearly a natural blonde.

"Okay," said Bob, "how short? Like yours?"

"No, shave it all off. This is a punishment. She's been flaunting it around town," said Mary.

"Please Mary..." said Anna softly.

Knowing that his may be his only chance to have a beautiful woman in his chair, he decided to assist, even if he normally preferred a willing customer. Especially if he could get a lovely souvenir from the experience. He pulled Anna's hair into a ponytail with a spare rubber band that he happened to have lying around. With his best clippers, he sliced it off. Anna's hair fell loose in rough bob. She, however, didn't have that bob for long because he put one hand on her neck as he ran the clippers over her scalp. A former military barber, he decided to give her the full new recruit experience. Within ten minutes, she sported a perfect grade zero buzzcut. He took a moment to brush her off and then asked Mary if she was good with the finished product.

Mary rubbed her hand against Anna's shorn scalp as Anna shut her eyes, tears running down her face. "Can you make her smooth? She will be spending the rest of the night between my legs apologizing. I don't want to feel stubble."

Bob smiled. "Of course, ma'am."

He wrapped a hot towel around Anna's head. She watched nervously, towel around her head, as he sharpened his best straight razor on a leather strap. Once he got it to a good edge, he removed the towel and spread hot lather over her scalp. With an expert's stead head, he shaved her head smooth. He took two passes just for his own pleasure. When he finished the second, he rubbed her head clean and then used a bit of aftershave, which made her wince.

At Mary's request, she took a photo of his hand over Anna's bald head. Then she paid his fee. As they settled things at the cash register, Anna swept up her own fallen hair, looking distraught. Once the bill was settled, Mary left the shop, with her bald, submissive wife following suit.

Bob took a moment to shut his blinds and flip the sign to closed, and then, with Anna's ponytail in his hands, started to pleasure himself.

(To my Ko-Fi friends, this month's story should be sent out tomorrow or Friday. In honor of April 15th (American Tax Day), it's going to be entitled "Paying The Taxman". For everyone else, The Barber On Main Street is on my Amazon Kindle store: The Barber On Main Street - Kindle edition by From Tumblr, whynotshaveme. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.)

[fe-fictions]

I’m being so fr I love you and your work but every time I come back to the blog I have to ask myself whether or not I’ve developed amnesia 😭 do you have any Alfonse tucked away somewhere in the crevices of the internet?

(I have one very sweet little drabble-y thing just for you!! U V U )

The night was still young, and Alfonse was restless. Everyone had already eaten, and those who had spare time outside of chores, patrols  and meetings, they were making merry and enjoying themselves. 

Everyone seemed to be accounted for, except for arguably the most important individual in Alfonse’s eyes; Kiran.

Sharena didn’t seem to know where you’d gone, nor did Anna. Most of the summoned heroes weren’t certain where you’d gotten off to, until he asked one of the more observant ones.

Klein had seen you heading toward the armory by yourself just a little while ago. You seemed fine, he added when Alfonse looked confused (and obviously worried).

“What on earth does she want in there?” He wondered aloud, making a beeline for the armory. It’s not like you wielded any of the weapons, at least not well enough to use. He’d been teaching you the way of the sword, but there was no way he was going to let you bring that onto the battlefield until he was satisfied with your skills.

Maybe you were reviewing the stock on your own, as diligently as usual. Alfonse’s speculation came to a swift conclusion, though, when he passed through the tent flaps.

You were in the armory, yes; dead asleep and leaning against a polearm from where you sat precariously on a bench.

“Kiran?” His face blanched, the prince quickly coming to your side. Carefully he put his fingers to your neck; your pulse was fine, and you didn’t appear to be in pain. You just looked tired, really. 

His brow furrowed when he realized you had dark bags under your eyes, and lines drawn likely caused by the stress of the job. 

“What have you been doing to yourself?” He muttered while he got to work extricating you from the tent. He expertly pulled the polearm away, leaning you back against the weapons rack behind you so as not to wake you.

The spear quietly clacked back into place, and he returned to your side. It would be better to let you sleep.

Alfonse gently raised you into his arms, holding you to his chest and making sure your head was resting against him rather than lolling about.

Making sure you weren’t jostled or stirring, he started out of the tent.

It was tactfully ignored when heroes started whispering about what they saw; what was the prince doing with the summoner?

Why was she asleep?

Were they sweet on each other- and were they really being so blatant about it?

His focus was making sure you got some proper rest for the first time in what appeared to be ages. 

“Please excuse me,” He murmured into your hair, as he brought you back to your tent.

The cot was practically untouched; had you even slept in it that morning?

Alfonse didn’t glance around long. He slowly knelt beside the bedroll, settling you onto the blankets.

With great care, he cupped your head, making sure not to let you bounce by accident when he moved his arms out from under you.

Then came the work on your boots.

Mindful of his own armor and clanking bits, Alfonse was expert in reducing his own noise while he got to work undoing your belts and buckles that surely weren’t comfortable to sleep in.

He managed to pull the first one off before he realized his efforts were in vain.

“Alfonse…?”

“Kiran!” He squeaked when you spoke, finding you staring down at him with bleary eyes.

Blushing, he pulled back, one boot still on and the other sock exposed.

“Forgive me, I just…I found you asleep in the armory and wanted you to be more comfortable in your tent. I brought you back and wanted to at least take some of your armor off while you rested.”

“Thanks.” You rubbed at your eyes, “I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep at all…guess I’ve been working harder than usual.”

“You’ve always worked hard,” Alfonse countered, recovering himself so he could continue his efforts. You watched with a lazy smile as he continued to undo your other boot, “I think it’s just the steady flow of hard work finally sapped the last of your strength, and this was the result.”

“You think so?” 

He nodded quietly while he set the footwear neatly to the side, before returning to your side. You reached for his hand and he gladly took it, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze from his seat beside the bedroll. 

"Would you like to spend the night with me, then?”

“Uhh…”

“Just to sleep,” You added in quickly, realizing the blush on his cheeks wasn’t because of a polite invitation. “I mean, it’s not like you don’t work hard, too…I thought it might be a good chance for both of us to get some good sleep.”

“If you don’t mind having me here.” Alfonse said softly, “I’m happy to stay until you fall asleep, if you’d rather I not stay all night.”

“I’d have you here every night if I could.”

The prince’s heart skipped a beat, and enthusiastically agreed to join you to bed.

He undid his own armor and belts, left in his tunic, trousers and socks.

His headpiece was carefully placed on your desk before he crawled under the blankets with you.

Your arms were open to receive him, and Alfonse was happily wrapped up in a sleepy embrace by his loved one.

You nestled your head into his hair, feeling far more relaxed with the handsome, sweet prince snuggled up with you.

“Goodnight, Alfonse…thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always.” He smiled against your skin, a chaste kiss along your collarbone. “Sleep well, Kiran.”

#alfonse #kiran #fe heroes #fire emblem heroes #fe: heroes #feh #alfonse x kiran #alfonse x summoner #fe fictions #fe-fictions #f!kiran #fem!kiran #f!mu #fluff #just pure fluff #a whole bunch of paragraphs of ONLY fluff #we love that for alfie ;;;;

[thevagabondexpress]

let's take a closer look at christopher, matthew, and their shared love of downworld, shall we?

On the surface, when you read them, Matthew Fairchild and Christopher Lightwood are wildly disparate characters. They have almost nothing in common. But then we get to the Shadow Market in Chain of Iron, and suddenly—suddenly Christopher Lightwood is a whole different man from the owlish, absentminded, socially inept little being we see around his friends and among the Enclave in general.

He's street-smart, avoiding the dangers of the Shadow Market with the practiced ease of many, many visits, he haggles like an expert (to quote Cordelia), and what's more, he's openly Nephilim in a place that seems to generally despise Shadowhunters and yet he and the vendors are familiar, even friendly with each other, Christopher chats as comfortably as he haggles, and in general he seems far more comfortable there than he does among the Nephilim of the Enclave, even those he considers his closest friends.

Up until then, Matthew and Anna were the characters we associated with Downworld. They frequent the Hell Ruelle, and are welcome and beloved there, and it's made clear that Matthew adores the Downworlders and their way of life, watching with starstruck eyes and longing to join in.

Matthew is the Downworlder lover extraordinaire—or is he? Hypatia states quite plainly in Chain of Gold that Matthew is welcomed into the Ruelle because he's pretty and amusing: he's there as a lovely plaything, a pawn of the other guests, a runed curiosity who can't seem to keep it in his pants and doesn't seem to realize that he can say no. The way he's treated by the Hell Ruelle is exploitative at best. And in the Shadow Market? He's swindled and snubbed like everyone else. Matthew adores the Downworld, but he looks at it through glittering rose-colored glasses, viewing it with the fetishized fascination for the exotic of a British colonist writing a travelogue of the Near East. He's Lawrence of Arabia, Marco Polo, Gertrude Bell.

Christopher in the Shadow Market, by contrast, is one of them already. "Christopher Lightwood!" one vendor calls. "Just the man I was hoping to see!" Granted, I don't know how they'd treat him if he wasn't such an extravagant spender but I imagine he would still be welcomed, if perhaps not hailed so loudly. But why? Christopher isn't scandalous, or extravagant. From everything we've seen he holds himself to high standards and lives a fairly clean lifestyle: he doesn't sleep around, he doesn't smoke, he doesn't do drugs or drink to excess.

But at the same time, while Matthew does do those things, he also gets treated like a toy by the Ruelle, and I am willing to bet you the moment he puts his foot down and says no to somebody, they'll stop letting him in.

Christopher, on the other hand, is humble. We're shown frequently through his interactions with his friends and family and other members of the Enclave that he doesn't place himself higher and believe himself better than anyone else. Neither does he seem to buy the prejudices those around him seem to hold: why should women, or Downworlders, or people of color, be considered lesser than someone else? He considers everyone on equal footing in that respect and judges them based on who they are as individual persons. And even then he shows a great capacity for leniency and forgiveness: he's the first of them to accept Grace, and while he goes along with his friends' hatred of Alastair in spirit, his actions don't suggest he really dislikes Alastair that much at all (except when he's insulting Anna, that is).

We see all of those behaviors from a distance in the Shadow Market scene, in the way he haggles and chats with the vendors and the fact that he doesn't seem either afraid of or bedazzled by the Market at all.

Ultimately, Christopher surpasses Matthew when it comes to knowledge of and position within the Downworld. Where Matthew treats the Downworld like a curio cabinet, and is exploited for his hedonist nature in turn, Christopher treats the denizens of the Shadow Market as equals, and receives equal treatment back from them, welcomed as a customer, a regular, yea even a friend.

TL; DR, Christopher has always been the true Downworlder spirit, and Matthew needs to wake up and put his foot down before he gets himself seriously hurt—again.

#christopher lightwood #matthew fairchild #the last hours #blue's tsc analysis

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

At least two Republican members of Congress were seen wearing lapel pins in the shape of an AR-15 rifle while conducting official business in the House of Representatives on Wednesday, when two mass shootings took place in the U.S.

Tweets showing Rep. George Santos (R-New York) and Rep. Anna Paulina Luna (R-Florida) wearing the pins went viral as many users pointed out the already high number of mass shootings that have occurred in the country since the start of the new year.

It’s likely that the two wore the pins all day long (in lieu of the U.S. flag pins they usually wear), as the Republican lawmakers were seen on House cameras, in footage that aired on C-SPAN, wearing the pins at different places in the Capitol — Santos, for instance, was seen wearing an AR-15 pin while giving a speech on the House floor, while Luna wore hers on camera while participating in a House Oversight Committee hearing.

Many lawmakers said that wearing a pin depicting a weapon that is frequently chosen by mass shooters was insensitive to people whose loved ones have been murdered in such shootings.

“To be promoting them on the floor of the House, is despicable and I think an insult to all of the victims of assault weapons,” Rep. Gregory Meeks (D-New York) said.

Rep. Jimmy Gomez (D-California) said that the pins lacked “common decency.”

“Anna Paulina Luna wore an assault weapon pin at today’s Oversight hearing — less than 48 hours after her state experienced a mass shooting,” Gomez said on Twitter. “You can’t make this shit up.”

That same day, Rep. Lauren Boebert (R-Colorado) gave a speech on the House floor championing unregulated gun ownership, lamenting the fact that the U.S. doesn’t account for more than 46% of all civilian-owned guns in the world.

“We need to get our numbers up, boys and girls,” Boebert said.

Gun violence experts have presented evidence suggesting that the vast amount of guns in the U.S. corresponds to the country having a higher homicide rate than other wealthy nations on the globe.

In 2022, there were 648 mass shootings, an 86% increase from just five years prior. Since the start of 2023, there have been more than 50 mass shootings — including at least two on the day Santos and Luna wore their AR-15 pins. If current trends keep up, there will have been around 600 mass shootings this year by December 31.

Should the U.S. exceed 600 mass shootings in 2023, this would be the fourth year in a row that that many mass shootings took place within a single calendar year.

THESE REPUBLICANS ARE ACTUALLY WEARING AR-15 PINS IN CONGRESS DURING GUN VIOLENCE SURVIVORS WEEK

House Democrats criticised freshman Republicans, including embattled Representative George Santos, for wearing assault rifle pins on Capitol Hill.

Democratic Representative Jimmy Gomez of California tweeted out photos of Representatives Anna Paulina Luna of Florida and Mr Santos of New York wearing lapel pins in the shape of an assault weapon.

"Where are these assault weapon pins coming from? Who is passing these out?" he tweeted.

#us politics #news #truthout #tyt #the young turks #videos #youtube #the independent #118th congress #us house of representatives #assault rifle pins #gun violence survivors week #gun violence #mass shootings #Rep. George Santos #Rep. Anna Paulina Luna #House Oversight Committee #Rep. Gregory Meeks #Rep. Jimmy Gomez #rep. andrew clyde #Ben Meiselas #twitter #tweet #2023 #Rep. Lauren Boebert

[revnah1406]

HANNAH "SPARROW" CLAYTON🐦🏔️🛠️

Name: Hannah Clayton

Nationality: British🇬🇧/Swiss🇨🇭

Age: 29

Date of birth: January 23 1994 - Hull (UK)

Residence: Zermatt (Switzerland)

Affiliation: Swiss Armed Forces/Taskforce 141

Rank: Lieutenant (OG) / Sergeant Major (Reboot)

Call sign(s): Sparrow / Bravo 7-2

Occupation: mechanical engineer and demolitions expert

Faceclaim: Fury (Ghost Recon break point)

Height: 1'85m/ 6.1ft

Weight: 90kg/198.4lb

Blood Type: O-

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Languages: Italian🇮🇹 (native), English🇬🇧 (Native) German🇩🇪 (native), Arabic🇲🇦, Russian 🇷🇺, Nepalese🇳🇵.

(click for better quality!)

AFFILIATIONS:

Swiss Armed Forces:

Captain Elijah Bubber

Lieutenant Hans Widmer

Staff Sergeant Urs Zimmerman

Lieutenant Ruth Fischer

Private Martin Gruber

141 members:

Captain John Price (Bravo 0-6)

Kate Laswell

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley (Bravo 0-7)

John "Soap" MacTavish (Bravo 7-1)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (Bravo 6-2)

Annabelle "kit" Pham (Shadow company later) (@applbottmjeens )

Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (@sleepyconfusedpotato )

Joyce "Joe" Hardman (@mctvsh )

Los Vaqueros (Mexican Special Forces):

Alejandro Vargas

Rodolfo Parra

Alyssa Martinez (@alypink )

Second Commando Regiment (@kaitaiga):

Captain Lachlan Jones

Sergeant Damien Whitlock

Para Special Forces (@welldonekhushi):

Captain Arjun Dhingra

Lieutenant Yurvaj

LIeutenant Aditya

Shadow Company:

Hannah Reid (@mctvsh )

Annabelle "kit" Pham (@applbottmjeens )

DESIGN REFERENCES:

MILITARY PERSONNEL FILE:

FAMILY:

James Clayton (Father) *alive*

Monika Müller (Mother) *alive*

Nathan Clayton (big brother) *alive*

Connor Clayton (little brother) *alive*

Elisabeth Clayton (little sister) *alive*

Dorian Clayton (nephew - Nathan) *alive*

Eric Clayton (nephew - Nathan) *alive*

Anna Clayton (niece - Nathan) *alive*

Amara Thompson (Girlfriend) *alive*

PERSONALITY:

Sparrow is a woman who at first glance can be intimidating when she is alone. But under that shell you find a person full of smiles and laughter. Her good humor and optimism can lighten the most difficult situations. There will always be a small comment or joke on her part, always with the intention of encouraging her teammates.

Sparrow is loyal to her teammates and friends, she is capable of risking her own life in order to protect them, sometimes she will even disobey orders for the good of the team. It's not uncommon to see Sparrow put her loved ones ahead of herself in many situations.

Although Hannah is a person who can light up a dark room with her smile, she can become very suspicious of strangers. She usually leans a lot on her intuition that almost never fails.

Sparrow is hard to anger, yet she can become very temperamental when she sees something that isn't fair. When her anger fills her veins she can become aggressive and strike with all her might without warning. Not caring who she may be hitting.

BIOGRAPHY:

Born in Kingston Upon Hull in England but raised in Zermatt, a small town located in the Swiss Alps. She comes from a large family, raised by a British father and a Swiss mother, being the second oldest of four siblings. Her father was a tank mechanic when he served in the army, so Hannah learned a lot about how to fix all kinds of engines and vehicles. She grew up climbing the Alps with her father and older brother, creating a great passion for high altitude and extreme climbing. Sparrow climbed the fourteen highest peaks in the world together with her brother. Unfortunately Sparrow didn't make it, because on the last mountain (K2) she suffered an accident, saving her brother from falling while climbing, the ice broke due to an avalanche, and she was lost on the mountain for days until a rescue team found her full of cuts and wounds from the ice and stones. When she was transferred to the nearest hospital, she made her brother swear that he would finish climbing that damn mountain for her.

SKILLS:

Expert in all types of engines and ground vehicles.

Expert in demolitions and electrical systems.

Expert in extreme high-altitude climbing.

Sparrow can adapt to any situation but there is no better assault soldier than her.

COMBAT:

Sparrow's close combat style is aggressive yet agile. Her style focuses on boxing and Mixed Martial Arts. Her strength is concentrated in her fists, so it is not surprising that her knife of choice is a pair of Punch Knives.

TRIVIA:

Sparrow along with her brother Nathan, they hold the historical record of climbing the fourteen highest mountains in the world in less than six months. Although sadly Sparrow did not manage to complete the last mountain.

Although Sparrow denies it, since the accident she has a certain fear of returning to K2. A cold sweat runs down her back just thinking about it. But it's a fear she's determined to face.

Sparrow is especially fond of her motorcycle, which she bought with money saved from her first job at age 18. This is a Kawasaki ninja zx-10r.

Sparrow's father gave her his prized car, a 1970s HEMI Cuda. Sparrow continues to fight to make that car work again as well as it did fifty years ago. In fact, she made a bet with her brother Connor, he thinks she won't get it fixed.

When Sparrow is out of service, she has a small car workshop in Zermatt, where she is dedicated to fixing the vehicles of the neighbors.

Sparrow's nickname comes from her incredible ability to whistle. She's capable of imitating almost all bird songs. More than once Sparrow has managed to get a bird to perch on her hand just by whistling.

MOODBOARD:

#cod oc: hannah “sparrow” clayton #hannah sparrow clayton #call of duty oc #oc info #oc information #oc: sparrow #my art <3 #Call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #yeaaah I love Sparrow so much #she's my babygirl #Spotify

[rocknroll7575]

Dude I got new characters for the dark time line and their from Desert Rangers of Lumière their like a 6 man squad and I have more lore about the Desert Rangers too.

1st we have:

Lucas Cooper, the squad leader

Rank: lieutenant

Aura color: Gold

Semblance: Dead Man's sight, when use time slows down and the world turns grey and seeing the weak spot of the target, this semblance can be use on groups( it's like dead eye in red dead redemption)

Bio: born in a ranching family in the sandy parts of Lumière he has a natural talent of shooting, at the age of 17 he joined the Desert Rangers, his leadership skills even rivals Jaune Arc's and also jaune's rival, his was assigned as leader of Team Bravo.

2nd we have:

Travis Walker, the Explosive expert

Rank: Sargent

Aura color: blue

semblance: not unlocked

Bio: as a son of owner of small mining company in a town called dusty creek he has this love for explosive and loud booms, at the age of 17 the chief of the desert rangers caught wind his skills and offered him a spot in the demolitions division, later on he was assigned to as their explosive expert.

3rd we have:

Trevor Walker, the Medic

Rank: Sargent

Aura color: light blue

Semblance: not unlocked

Bio: unlike his twin brother travis he likes to help the injured his more like the towns doctor's student helping and observing the doctor treat his patients, he joined on he's own after his brother joined, joined the medical department, later on he was assigned to Team Bravo as the medic.

4th we have

Wade Hayes, the Marksman

Rank: Sargent

Aura color: Silver

Semblance: Trailblazer's Touch, when used the user has control on the bullet and can see where it goes (like a predator missile from MW2 but it's a bullet).

Bio: As a of an hunter Wade was trained by his father at a very young age, he taught him how shoot a target 2 kilometres without a miss, at the age of 14 his father died by fight off bandits who raiding their homestead, he has no left he's mother died giving birth to him, his on his own, until the Desert Rangers took him in.

5th we have

Anna Johnson, the infiltrator

Rank: Sargent

Aura color: red

Semblance: ghostly tread, when used the user's footsteps are silents and turn them invisible.

Bio: as a singer at a canteen and a daughter of wealthy man a at a big town that is part of Lumière called Sunburnt Flats, she hates the life of fame and fortune, she and her may have disagreements here and there but she ran away and joined the Desert Rangers anyway, there she meet lucas she fell in love with him the moment she saw him but she keep it a secret maybe someday she can confess to him, but anyway let's talk about her love story in the future, her sneaking skills along with how good she is with a knife and a revolver she maybe the most badass woman in the Desert Rangers, she ask permission to Chief Taylor to be assigned to team Bravo, Chief Taylor was hesitant but he could see in girls eyes and he agreed, later on she was assigned to Team Bravo as their infiltrator.

And finally we have

Jenny Bell, the mechanic

Rank Private

Aura color: Green

Semblance : not unlocked

Bio: she maybe the youngest of the squad but she mod and fix your weapons and vehicles, her father was a mechanic at the HQ of desert rangers and taught her everything related to fixing vehicles, the weapon modding thing was all her.

Lore about the Desert Rangers:

Their HQ is fort used by mantle forces during the great war, their HQ contains a command center, a underground holding cell, a garage, armory, a shooting range, training course and a med bay.

They maybe a different group of Rangers but they still answer to council.

Their rivalry with Ranger of Lumière, their rivalry is so bad they each other names like tree fuckers, sand rats, but their just two sides of the same coin, the other is just cowboy and the other is brooding edge lord.

GOD DAMN IT MAN DON'T YOU KNOW YOUR GETTING MY CREATIVE JUCIES FLOWING!? I ALREADY HAVE ENOUG STORIES AND YOUR MAKING WANT TO MAKE THIS THING A WHOLE ASS STORY!!!

DAMN YOU AND YOUR AMAZING CREATIVETY! DAMNNNN YOOOOUUU!!!

#rwby #jaune arc #ranger jaune arc #rwby ranger au #rwby asks

[viola-ophelia]

turn week day 2: content creator appreciation day!

i thought i’d do a turn blogs rec list for today, because whenever i force a friend to watch turn (which i’ve done to at LEAST 3 people and plan to do to many more hehe), they always ask me for blogs to follow since it’s a small fandom and it can be hard to find it if you’re not already in it. so!! here are (a few of) the turn blogs i’ve followed for ages and who, in my humble opinion, are staples of this fandom 💖

1. @tallmadgeandtea for her “turn and teas” where she watches and live blogs episodes of turn - they are SO funny and i love reading them the next morning like the morning paper and spam liking every post lol. but also, for her ben x oc content, which is amazing and i highly recommend!

2. @honorhearted for the best RP portrayal of ben i’ve ever seen!!

3. @musicboxmemories for incredible takes on pretty much every character! and for her excellent fics hehe

4. @rhogeminid / @johngravessimcoe the resident simcoe expert! no one understands simcoe like they do!! and also, great art :3

5. @enchi-elm for excellent turn meta and fics! they can somehow write every single character perfectly.

6. @turnwashingtonsbaddies LITERALLY the funniest turn memes blog. idk what it is about their memes but i actually cackle out loud when i see some of them. turn is a comedy and no one understands this more than user turnwashingtonsbaddies

@hmsannlett for great fics and hewlett x anna content (which is MUCH needed, i love them so much)

@annastrxng for the best RP portrayal of anna! and @cabbxges-and-kings for the best abe!

please feel free to add onto this post with more recs if you have them!! i’m sure i forgot a couple people lol. but anyways shout out to these awesome turn content creators!

#turn amc #amc turn #turn washington’s spies #history #american revolution #amrev #hamilton #turn washingtons spies #turn week 2023

[enchanted-keys]

You've probably answered this lots before, but: do you have a fairly clear hierarchy of favourites among the Royal Ballet principals? And your favourite role or two for each? :-) Also: of the recent retirees, who would you most like to see guesting?

Also a) thank you so much for obtaining the info that it'll be Nela and Ball for that "Winter's Tale" stream! Partner and I have got our tickets booked to see it at the Cineworld in Aberdeen. <3 It's the ballet that got me properly back into ballet, when I watched it during lockdown, and just: yay. :-)

And b) your blog has just been so lovely and helpful in growing my ballet knowledge! And your gifs are superb, and your Matthew Ball love is validating. :D

Also also: do you have any favourites among the Scottish Ballet dancers? I was lucky enough to see "Cinders" on tour, and I was so impressed with both Bruno Micchiardi (as Cinders) and Jessica Fyfe (as Princess Louise), but I am no expert.

I think someone asked me for a ranking of all the principals some time ago, but I can't even find the post anymore; I don't mind one bit answering this again! <3

If I have to talk strictly about my faves, it goes like this:

Nunez (eheh!): if have to narrow down her most iconic roles I have to give you at least three (please bear with me, I'm doing my best), which are O/O, Kitri and Aurora.

Takada: Titania and O/O. I'm just so very sorry that she's been more injured than not lately. I miss her.

Hayward: Juliet and any Ashton role I can think of (rhapsody, enigma variations, those bits of Titania we got, etc.). I also think she makes one of the best Claras out there.

Kaneko: O/O (saw her live in the BS pdd and the White Adagio with Vadim and it was life changing, bye). Also her Gypsy girl in the two pigeons is iconic. Special mention for her Aurora.

Lamb: Manon. Signature role. Was born to play it. I also really love her Mary Vetsera and her Aurora.

I'm a bit uncertain if I should include Anna Rose or not...sometimes I really love her, but overall I'd like her to be more consistent. But I'll say she was born to play Juliet.

Muntagirov: he's more versatile than people give him credit for, and really has the whole package, but I'd say his best roles are Siegfried and De Grieux.

Ball: he's such an outstanding actor that it's hard to choose, but I'm going with Romeo and Albrecht.

Bracewell: another wonderful Romeo right here, and I was blown away by his Hamlet in the Ashton insights.

Mcrae: Oberon and Rudolph for sure.

Sambè: sorry to repeat myself but we have another great Romeo right here. From what I've seen he makes also a great Colas.

As for retirees, the one that I really wish was still performing is Roberta Marquez, though maybe she isn't exactly a recent one. Out of the most recent ones I only miss Federico Bonelli because he always brought something special to his performances, although I have to say that the struggles and limitations that come with age were very visible in the last couple of years (his Siegfried variation in the SL cinema relay with Takada comes to mind).

As for the winter's tale I'm really happy to see someone who appreciates it as much as I do! I think it's a truly lovely ballet, one of the few modern classics that really stuck with me. You're very welcome for the info and I hope you'll have a great time at the theatre...unfortunately I found out that it won't be streamed in my country, so I'm going to miss out on it 😤

Thanks for all your lovely compliments they're more appreciated than I can say! 😭🩵🙏

Scottish Ballet is one of those companies that I wish had more footage available, because bits I do get to see are really impressive. I'm kind of familiar with Constance Devernay, Bethany kingsley-garner and Andrew Peasgood because I've seen them in the recordings of The Fairy's Kiss and The Snow Queen, and I seriously enjoyed those performances!

I wish there was a full recording of Cinders because both the trailer and the rehearsal look amazing! Jessica Fyfe is a really delicate and expressive dancer from the clips I've seen of her, and both her and Micchiardi impressed me in the rehearsal poste on YT, cause the intentions and mannerisms in their dancing were so clear: I immediately caught up on the reversal of Cinders gender and that she was the princess even though I hadn't read about the novelty introduced by this production beforehand, but everything was immediately clear thanks to their attention to detail.

The little I've seen from this company makes me wish for more!

#asks #ballet

[commiepinkofag]

📷 From the documentary film “Forbidden Love – Queer Victims of the Nazi Dictatorship”

Documentary shows three poignant fates of queer Nazi victims

Persecuted, arrested and murdered: The documentary “Forbidden Love – Queer Victims of the Nazi Dictatorship” shows, with celebrity support, what it meant to be a queer person who was an enemy of the Nazi state.

Auto-translate from German [original from Queer.de]:

The documentary will be broadcast on January 27th, the International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of the Holocaust.

The approximately 45-minute documentary by Sebastian Scherrer shows how the Nazis increased punishments and terrorized queer people. For this purpose, the fates of the three queer protagonists Elli Smula, Liddy Bacroff and Rudolf Brazda are not only examined, but the voices of historians and well-known faces are also sought. …

The documentary does not force the protagonists into the role of victims

All three take on a “sponsorship” for one of the protagonists in order to shed light on their fate. These include Elli Smula, who was persecuted as a lesbian, and Liddy Bacroff, who was harassed by the authorities as a "transvestite", as well as Rudolf Brazda, who was imprisoned in the Buchenwald concentration camp because of his homosexuality. Over 50,000 queer people were demonstrably persecuted at the time, many of whom were oppressed, imprisoned or murdered. But as cruel as the Nazi era was for LGBTI people, the documentary proves that despite the most adverse circumstances, some managed to live out their identity and assert themselves during the Nazi era. And although the protagonists actually became "victims" of the Nazi regime, they are not presented in the documentary in a "victim role", but as self-confident people who did not want to let the Nazi regime change them.

All three take on a “sponsorship” for one of the protagonists in order to shed light on their fate. These include Elli Smula, who was persecuted as a lesbian, and Liddy Bacroff, who was harassed by the authorities as a "transvestite", as well as Rudolf Brazda, who was imprisoned in the Buchenwald concentration camp because of his homosexuality. Over 50,000 queer people were demonstrably persecuted at the time, many of whom were oppressed, imprisoned or murdered. But as cruel as the Nazi era was for LGBTI people, the documentary proves that despite the most adverse circumstances, some managed to live out their identity and assert themselves during the Nazi era. And although the protagonists actually became "victims" of the Nazi regime, they are not presented in the documentary in a "victim role", but as self-confident people who did not want to let the Nazi regime change them.

Other fates during the Nazi era are also discussed. In addition to the events surrounding Smula, Bacroff and Brazda, other fates from the Nazi era are also highlighted, such as that of SA leader Ernst Röhm. The homosexual officer was murdered on behalf of Adolf Hitler in 1934. But Magnus Hirschfeld, who worked as a sex researcher for the decriminalization of homosexuality, is also remembered. For his efforts, the Nazi regime punished him by storming his institute. The right degree between personal stories and education The documentary manages to find the right degree between the narration of personal fates and the factual education about the Nazi era. In addition to the protagonists, historical documents are shown from which shocking evidence emerges. At that time, sexual acts between men were described as “fornication” and homosexuality as a “popular plague”. The so-called “Pink Angle” publicly stigmatized homosexual men in concentration camps. Czech Holocaust expert Anna Hájková sums it up aptly: "Queer people embodied everything the Nazis hated." And the prominent faces and activists always find the right words, express criticism or ask legitimate questions. Finally, on some of the stumbling blocks, for example, there are deadnames of deceased trans people, which denounces them. Finally, reference is made to the current situation of queer people, because hate is increasing again. That's why the documentary ends with an impressive sentence:

Love should never become a crime again.

#international day of remembrance of the victims of the holocaust #forbidden love #queer #queer history #lgbqti #holocaust #trans #pink triangle #homosexuality #magnus hirschfeld #lgbt #lgbtq #fascism #germany #nazi #2024

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (7-13 Apr 2024)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 If This Is As Far As We Go (BeauRadley) - 124K, stucky no-powers AU - after a year of being phenomenal hookup buddies, bucky ends their arrangement & throws steve into a tailspin - slow burn, angsty, oblivious steve slowly realizing his true feelings, good supporting cast

😊 Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid (Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert) - cute graphic novel about art students forming a softball team to exploit a financial aid loophole

😍 Death in the Spires (KJ Charles, author; Tom Lawrence, narrator) - historical murder mystery set in 1905 Oxford - another KJC absolute banger: incredible sense of place, fantastic characters, perfectly done 'whodunnit' tension and a HIGHLY SATISFACTORY resolution. Loved every word

💖💖 +76K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

The Man, the Myth, the Legend (sparklyslug) - Check Please!: gen, 2.9K - Holster's beatboxing skills brings all the a capella groups to the Haus - a short, fun, funny, outsider POV fic

Say it louder for the people in the back (redhook) - MCU: shrinkyclinks, 14K - reread, forever fave - sometimes you just get a yearning to reread the best glory hole fic ever written

In Focus (sparklyslug) - Check Please!: zimbits, 6K - Jack's photography eye knows what's up before his conscious brain does

Entering Orbit (museaway) - Star Trek AOS: spirk, 30K - good post-AOS canon-divergent fic where Jim goes home to Iowa to escape the press & Spock joins him

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Hot Ones - Conan O'Brien

QI - series S, ep 13

Game Changer - s6, e5 {Bingoception}

Um, Actually - s9, e4

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "Dawn of Justice" (s21, e14)

D20: Adventuring Party - "We're Running on 200%" (s16, e14)

Death In Paradise - s11, e4-8; s12 e0-8, s13 e0-8

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

Working - How to Be Both a Critic and a Creator

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #10: Of the Reaching Green

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep10 "Of the Reaching Green"

Short Wave - How Climate Change And Physics Affect Baseball

Consider This from NPR - Bad Omens Or The Cycle of Nature? How The Ancient World Viewed Eclipses

⭐ Armchair Expert - Anna Kendrick [Rerelease from 1/9/23]

Today, Explained - Is college still worth it?

The Sporkful - Jewish Food Is More Than Matzoh Balls

WikiHole - BEYONCÉ (with Zoë Chao, Nat Faxon and Poppy Liu)

⭐ All Songs Considered - Songs to make you laugh, with 'Weird Al' Yankovic

In Defense of Fandom - Season 2 Episode 2: Putting my theory to the test

Dinner’s on Me - Orville Peck

⭐ Switched on Pop - Chasing old sounds: Djo's "End of Beginning" with Joe Keery

⭐ 99% Invisible #577 - The Society of Ambiance Makers and Elegant Persons

⭐ Vibe Check - A Special Conversation with Ada Limón

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Brown Mountain Lights

Short Wave - The Order Your Siblings Were Born in May Play a Role in Identity and Sexuality

⭐ Code Switch - How Frederick Douglass launched generations of Black and Irish solidarity

⭐ Decoder Ring - Can the “Bookazine” Save Magazines?

⭐ Imaginary Worlds - African Sci-Fi Looks to a Future Climate

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #11: Promises Promises

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep11 "Promises Promises"

What Next: TBD - Does Google Suck Now?

Short Wave - What To Know About The New EPA Rule Limiting 'Forever Chemicals' In Tap Water

Code Switch - Reflecting on the legacy of O.J. Simpson

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Atlas Obscura Live: Two Places And A Lie

Dear Prudence - I Lost a Lot of Weight and Now I Enjoy Being a Mean Girl. Help!

It's Been a Minute - The car culture wars; plus, the problem with child stars

Endless Thread - RIP Lil Miquela

Shedunnit - You Probably Imagined It!

Armchair Expert - John Cena

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - [One Shot] A County Affair: Prologue

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Presenting Bonnie Raitt

Lowrider Oldies

Huge House Anthems

Djo

Classic Soul BBQ

A LA SALA [Khruangbin] {2024}

Presenting Khruangbin

Happy Beats

'80s One-Hit Wonders

Feel-Good Classic Rock

#sunday reading recap #bookgeekgrrl's reading habits #bookgeekgrrl's soundtracks #death in the spires #no surprise that kj charles can write the *fuck* out of a mystery #bunt! striking out on financial aid #we had a power outage so i decided to read an actual physical book! #comics & graphic novels are really the only physical books i read these days #fanfic ftw #dropout tv #got all caught up on death in paradise which i continue to watch with 50% affection 50% annoyance #mfred tipped me off to khruangbin and i love them #bonnie raitt #djo #vibe check podcast #switched on pop podcast #99% invisible podcast #decoder ring podcast #all songs considered podcast #code switch podcast #imaginary worlds podcast #armchair expert podcast #shedunnit podcast #worlds beyond number podcast #worlds beyond number: fireside podcast #wikihole podcast #endless thread podcast #it's been a minute podcast #the atlas obscura podcast #the sporkful podcast