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shes-claws-deep · 5 years ago

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Warden - Ma’am

A birthday gift for @golele5! Sorry for the lateness but I hope you enjoy it!

"Agent McKinley, if you get any closer, you will actually be breathing down my neck," you drawl out, looking up and over your shoulder at your tall, suit-clad, moustachioed shadow.

"No can do, ma'am," he drawls back in that slow as molasses Southern accent, one that you know he never actually uses except to flirt. "Six said your noggin' is more important than mine. And when Six says jump, I say how high."

Utter lies. You roll your eyes and sigh. "If Six says so..."

Collin McKinley smiles down at you genially. "Thank ya kindly." Then he puts his hand in front of you to stop you from entering the stairwell first. "Let me go first and check it out, ma'am. Protection 101, remember?"

Infuriating. Utterly infuriating. "Of course, Agent McKinley. Take care that you don't get hit in the head when you do." The sneer on your face could freeze boiling water. The man knows full well you're as seasoned a protection agent as he is. Knows full well you're more than capable of not only protecting yourself but also eliminating anyone who comes after you. *You* know there's little beyond an entire army coming after you that will make you stop in your tracks.

But as always, Agent McKinley is steadfast in his annoying polite Southern gentleman facade. "Just ensuring that no hair on your pretty head gets hurt, ma'am," he says and waves you forward after taking a moment to listen. "Six was adamant in making sure you get back to base safely."

And there he goes with that hand to the small of your back, as though to guide you down the oh so scary staircase.

Goddamnit, you can't take it any longer! "Agent McKinley, touch me again and I'll break your fingers and offer it to your boss."

But rather than feel offended or affronted, the infuriating former Secret Service agent just returns his hand to his side without blinking. "Apologies, ma'am. Force of habit." That satisfied smile on his face says otherwise.

Oh, you know full well how much every move of his is thought out, planned, deliberate. Nothing is ever a 'force of habit'. Not even a hand hovering over the small of your back, touching the back of your blazer but never putting pressure. Is he flirting or is he trying to rile you up? Who could ever know with this man.

Rolling your eyes, you push past him and make your way down the flights of stairs to the garage, ears and eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. As annoyed as you are with Agent McKinley's overbearing 'protection', you have to admit you might actually need it. Apparently being a former royal guard for a now hunted monarch means that you've got a target on your back. You certainly never asked for a terrorist group to come after you.

Also, better him shadow you than that FBI woman with the stick up her ass or that lazy SAT fellow. Certainly better than the brooding masked agent who absolutely refuses to talk to anyone more than necessary and the cute German who seems to have the best comedic timing and the worst social skills you've ever seen. By process of elimination, perhaps Agent McKinley was the lesser of all the evils. Still, it doesn't stop you from feeling a thrum of irritation as you watch him open doors and enter ahead of you, as he checks over the vehicle and doesn't let you do the same. It rankles at you to be this powerless, to let others do the job that you've always done. To let yourself be protected rather than the protector.

"All clear, ma'am," Agent McKinley pipes up as he trots back to you. Like some overgrown, dark-haired, bespectacled puppy. "We're good to go."

You nod back at him and the two men standing by the vehicle. "Good, then let's go. Is our route secure?"

"Yeah," the man who introduced himself as Echo mumbles. "Ash and Vigil went ahead to scout. They said it's all clear on their end too."

Agent McKinley frowns behind his moustache. You do as well.

"Tell your colleagues to keep an eye out for motorbikes and cars. These men and women aren't snipers and gunmen." You furrow your brow and draw close enough to the car for Agent McKinley to open the back door for you. "Let's hope they don't get too creative."

"What was it with wishes and horses again?" The newest bane of your existence chuckles. "We've got a plan B, ma'am, not to worry."

You scoff. "Who's worrying? C'mon, let's get going before we become sitting ducks."

"Yes, ma'am," all three men chime out and hop in after you. The German takes the wheel and the lazy genius takes shotgun, his attention turning to the screen in his lap. Apparently, he has some drone going in the air that will serve as his eye in the sky. Agent McKinley just straps his seatbelt on patiently and goes through his various weapons, checking the magazines and making sure there's a round in the chamber in all of them. Interestingly enough, this mirrors your own actions.

How interesting.

But you ignore his amused look at your grumble, continuing to check your own inventory. Plan B indeed. But instead of an extradition route, as would be the worry for your entourage, you don't like putting your plans to paper. Or rather, you don't like planning in advance. You know the city, the countryside, the suburbs, like the back of your hand. You know your boltholes, your safehouses, and your various ways out of the country. Worst comes to worst, you'll be the one evacuating your bodyguards.

You hope it won't come to that, though. Three guns, four blades, several mystery vials and smoke bombs later, you finish busying yourself and look up just in time to spot a cute little sedan with a suspicious, nervous-looking driver at the next intersection.

"Blue sedan, white driver, two o'clo-ck!" The last syllable is yelped out as the sedan lurches forward and slams into your car.

"Contact, contact, contact!" Agent McKinley roars and yanks you down onto the seats, covering your body with his own as bullets tear through the window where your head was. "Jager, get us the fuck out of here!"

"We're boxed in," Jager grunts back, his breath catching as two more cars slam into the front and the back of your SUV. "Plan B. Evacuate the VIP, Warden!"

"You got it," he grunts and shakes glass out of his perfectly coiffed hair. "Give 'em hell, boys."

And by Plan B, the men mean shooting their way out.

While Jager and Echo draw enemy fire from the front, you and Agent McKinley break out from the back window, slipping free from the wreckage just in time to avoid a fourth car that slams into the passenger's side.

"Motherfucker!" Your growl is muffled by Agent McKinley's chest as he grabs you and rolls to the side to avoid the wheels. But his rescuing hug leaves an arm free for you to whip out a pistol and fire at the driver. "McKinley, I hope to hell you've got a plan C!"

"This is still plan B, ma'am," he drawls calmly, hooking his arms under your armpits to drag you to safety while leaving you to provide cover fire.

One gunman goes down, clutching his neck. Another cries out as he slumps against the blue sedan, hands gripping his bleeding thigh and not his now forgotten gun. A third topples over as he tries to bum rush you and McKinley, planting right onto his face as your round burns a neat hole between his eyes.

"Tell your men to extract once I'm out of sight," you hiss to him as you find your feet and lead the way to a nearby bolthole. "Since they clearly don't mind being shot at, they can help draw attention away while we find another way out of the city. If they're attacking now, they must have our other immediate routes covered. No way we're going to regroup with those two today."

"Roger," McKinley nods and complies with a quiet word. Surprising, considering how overbearing he was just now. That submissive tone of his piques your interest just a little; it's the most agreeable thing he's said since you met him. "Echo, Jager, retreat and rendezvous at point Delta. Going radio silent." Then he rips his earpiece out and stuffs it into a pocket. "You know, this feels familiar."

"Oh yeah?" you growl absent-mindedly, changing out your magazine for a fresh one as you're dragged around the corner of a building. "Why's that?" Another unlucky soul gets downed just as he rounds the corner after you, slamming into the ground with a sickening thump that you and McKinley both ignore. "I've got a bolthole not too far from here. Follow me." Without checking if he follows you, you turn and jog quickly down the alleyway.

"You and me, evacuating Baldwin a couple of years ago off the streets of Marrakesh." He follows you as he speaks, shiny oxfords barely making a noise on the rough concrete as he does so. "Finding one of your safehouses, waiting out the insurgents. Watching you sneak out to recon our exfil."

That mouth of his never stops moving, but strangely enough, his voice helps calm your oddly frayed nerves as you lead him down winding alleys and shady slums. You probably should've taken up your last shrink on her offer to talk about the reason why you left the Royal service, fuck. Who knew that a bunch of cars slamming into your own car would rattle you so much. At least your aim is still true and your experience keeps your hands from shaking, you think, because it would humiliate you to no end if you couldn't even protect yourself at this point.

But as much as you're trying to hide it, McKinley's eyes are ever sharp. "We close to the bolthole yet, ma'am?" He can see the wide pupils of your eyes, the way you're obsessively patting over your other hidden weapons, the way your lip trembles ever so slightly when you turn to answer him.

"Yeah, just up here." You nod up at the run-down, condemned building. "Up the fire escape, McKinley, let's go."

"Yes, ma'am."

The bolthole, one of many in this very city, is small. Bare. Purposed for a single person to take shelter for a night or two. So when you take a tall, well-built man and an average-sized woman and put both inside such a tiny space? You get a very irritated, and a very amused, pair of unlikely comrades.

"McKinley, do me a favour and plaster yourself to the wall so you're not constantly smothering me."

"I'd love to, ma'am, but I ain't flexible enough to bend over the counter," he quips back, though he does arch his back a little and shuffles out of the way so you can unload your arsenal on the tiny little table. "You know, if you wore some heels, you wouldn't have the trouble of having your face in my chest."

You roll your eyes. "Oh yes, let me wear heels and totter all around the city while running away from baddies," you mock him in a high pitched voice, one that doesn't seem to do anything other than tickle his funny bone by the way he's sniggering at you. "If only I could break their necks with it before I do myself."

"But at least you'll look good while you fall over?" McKinley shrugs and laughs as he dodges your thrown boot. Unlike Mr Secret Service, you prefer working boots over looking sharp these days. Which means a steel toe and a blade in the sole. "Kidding, darlin'. Just kidding. You look good in anythin' you wear."

As you shrug off your blazer and bulletproof vest, you glare at him over your shoulder. "'Darlin''? What happened to 'ma'am', huh? Mr Southern Gentleman."

McKinley sucks in air and hisses it out, the sound becoming oddly sexual when paired with the feel of the gust of wind on the back of your neck. "You like it when I call you 'ma'am', eh? I like it too."

"Don't you dare-" Whirling around, you plant a finger in his chest and glare up at him, only to look down when you realise your finger touches bare skin. "Did you just magically lose your clothes?" Although you have to admit, he looks *good*. Like, 'you'd lick chocolate off him' good. Just a healthy sprinkling of hair over his meaty pecs, a sexy happy trail going down into his belted slacks, and a little bit of fur over his forearms, but he looks damn good.

In fact, he looks so good, you didn't even realise you were staring a touch too long.

"My eyes are up here, ma'am." His voice melts into that twang that you love to hate and hate to love, drawing your attention back up to his brown eyes. They're smouldering, full of lust and passion both, fluttering between your chest, your finger, and your face. "Shame we're on the job."

Slap!

He gasps out a moan at the impact, his face swinging to the side from the impact of your palm hitting his cheek. But it wasn't a moan of pain; rather, it was a moan of pleasure. Looks like someone is kinkier than you could ever imagine. And that turns you the hell on.

"No, Agent McKinley." His eyes grow wide when you take a step towards him, pressing him back until his knees bump against the tiny cot. "*You* are on the job."

"Sure am." He nods, a cute little blush rising on his cheeks as he falls back on the cot with a quick shove. "Don't suppose I could, ah, take a little break for a bit? Reckon we're safe for now."

Another slap. Another moan. Another trembling lip and an amused smirk.

"Never took you to be a man who likes to be slapped around a little," you purr and lean over him, pressing your palms over his built chest just to feel his chest hair scratch at your callouses. "And no, no breaks for you."

He chuckles a strangled laugh, his hands clutching at the threadbare sheets and his hips squirming a little when you brace a knee between his thighs, pressing dangerously close to where he's rock hard and aching. "What red-blooded man could resist a powerful woman like you, ma'am? Especially when you're slapping me around in nothing but your underwear."

Another slap. Another even louder whimper.

"Don't be crass, Agent McKinley." You mimic his drawl in a mocking manner, retreating long enough to snatch his tie from the pile on the floor. "I'm not doing this for you."

His breath comes hot and fast, his chest rising and falling quickly as you yank him up the bed and loop the tie around his neck once more. "You ain't, but hell if this isn't going to benefit me to-o!" The O is cut short as you tie the fabric to the iron bars, anchoring him down and ensuring that he can't get out of it without using both hands. Hands which you're pinning by his sides with your knees, squeezing almost painfully tight but eliciting only a strangled moan instead of a wince.

Shit, Collinn McKinley is a hell lot kinkier than you take him for. What a coincidence that this is all up your alley.

"I think I like you a lot better when you're just making noises," you drawl and shimmy out of your pants and panties. The wet stickiness of your pussy juice soaks the lining of your panties, chilling your hand just a little as you wad it up. "Now keep quiet and let me enjoy this."

"What, you don't like me ta-" He doesn't manage to finish his sentence since you take the opportunity to stuff your sodden panties in his mouth. Jamming it and his tongue so he can only sputter and close his teeth once you take your fingers back. "Mmhh!" Well, if you want to play dirty, he's certainly not going to complain. Although, the missed opportunity to offer you his mouth to get yourself off is a bit of a waste. Still, he's got his hands, doesn't he? He's going to put that to good use, whether you slap him again for it or not.

Actually, he's almost asking for it.

With that in mind, he wriggles a hand free and closes it around your thigh as you slide yourself over his belly to straddle him.

"Oi!"

Collinn can only smile at the slap to his face. Jackpot. And yet he doesn't take his hand off you, relishing in the feel of your silken skin beneath his calloused hand, the warmth of you that almost burns his palm as he squeezes you gently.

On your end, you're struggling not to enjoy his touch too much. But fuck, he's got wonderful hands and he knows exactly how to make you feel worshipped even with just a single touch. He doesn't stray beyond your thigh, your hip, and your waist, only his long fingers touching the sensitive skin of your ass, never reaching for your sodden pussy lips that rub against his muscled belly. "Hmph, you're lucky you know what to do with those hands."

There goes his smug smirk. "Mm-hm."

You know what they say about infuriating smirks and wanting to kiss them off his mouth? Yeah, that's exactly what you're feeling right now. Uncaring about his perfectly styled hair, you slide your hands into those dark locks and ball your fingers into a fist, using it to tilt his head back and bare his lips so you can lick and kiss at them lightly, teasingly, riling him up until he's clawing at your back.

"Tease," he mumbles through the panties, pushing it out of his mouth enough that your next kiss is full on the lips. "You're such a fuckin' tease, ma'am."

"You got that goddamn right, McKinley," you growl and tug harder on his hair, pulling and pulling until he winces instead of moans, his jaw dropping from the sharp, erotic pain. "I am a fucking tease."

As much as he wants to quip something smart back at you, he's far too preoccupied with you finally kissing him full on the lips. And when you slip your tongue out so you can give him cute little kitten licks, he can't resist opening his mouth and trying to suck on your tongue where he can. Your taste is addictive, like he substances he swore off on so long ago, urging him to keep kissing, keep sucking, keep licking until his head starts to spin with your taste and your smell.

His lips are sinfully perfect, kissing you just the way you love. Even his soft moustache isn't detracting from his incredible skills. Then it turns out that McKinley is excellent at more than just kissing and making out, because when you lean up to take a break and stretch out your arms, he follows you and latches onto your neck. He sucks at your flesh, nipping at it gingerly with his teeth and then laving at the bruised skin with his tongue, all the while panting softly with an open mouth.

Unwilling to let him take the lead, you yank on his hair and jerk his head to one side to expose his ear. An ear that you promptly suckle like you would his cock. Breathing and moaning and hissing into it until he's squirming and digging his nails into your back.

"You're far too good at picking out my weakspots, darlin'," he gasps out thinly, his cock throbbing and threatening to split the seam of his boxers and his slacks. "Fuck!" A powerful shiver wracks his body when you react to his swear by licking at his earlobe and pulling it into your mouth to suck. "Fuck!"

A dark laugh escapes you at his helpless whimper, so very different from the very in-control Secret Service agent that you know him to be. "Mmm, something wrong, Agent?"

He growls, "You goddamn tease, ma'am. Just fuck me!"

Now here's a proper laugh. "Fuck you? With what, your unprotected cock? No condom, no fucking, Agent."

Who the heck stocks their bolthole with condoms anyway? You certainly never imagined bringing back a beau to fuck in this tiny space. Still, it doesn't stop you and him from groaning in disappointment. From what you felt in his pants, he's gotta be packing a decent cock in there. Then again, you're pretty unprepared, and who says you have to go without penetration just because you can't use his cock?

"Give me your hand."

McKinley hands his hand to you without complaint, watching you with keen eyes as you lick his, thankfully clean and freshly washed, fingers and lower it to where you're aching the most. Oh god. Oh fuck. If he thought you were a tease before, it's got nothing on what you're doing now. Because you're slowly sliding his fingers into your sopping, soaking wet pussy. Taking them knuckle deep and stuffing even more when you decide that a single digit isn't enough. Then when you find the perfect thickness, oh that's when you start to ride his fingers like you would his cock. His poor, poor cock that lies just mere inches away from where his fingers have found the heaven between your legs.

As expected, his fingers curve instinctively, seeking that one spot that will make you gasp and growl with pleasure. And find it he does, pressing so deliciously that you snarl at him to move his hand faster, to fuck you harder, to keep that spark going until your finger on your clit takes over and helps you cum. It's not the most powerful orgasm you've ever had, far from, but it's enough to make you moan quietly and claw at his bare chest as you ride the wave of intense pleasure.

He stares up at you with wonder and intense lust in his eyes, watching you ride out your orgasm and slump down ever so slightly. With a light sheen of sweat covering your skin and your hair ever so slightly mussed, you look like a goddess in the waning light that shines through the broken, frosted windows. He's not quite sure when he started to look at you as more than just a VIP, as more than a fellow bodyguard. If he wasn't certain you'd hit him for it, he'd say you're more like the previous head of Rainbow herself. A force of nature, wild, powerful, and something to be in complete awe of.

But he keeps that all to himself. An easy thing to do when you take his hand out of you painfully slowly, relishing in the obscene sucking sound as your greedy pussy finally lets go of his fingers. "Clean this up for me," you murmur breathlessly, turning his fingers onto himself and stuffing them into his willing mouth.

As he has most of his career, he obeys without a word, instinct spurring him to lick and suckle at his fingers like he would a popsicle. Sucking and taking your mouthwatering slick off his fingers and onto his tongue. The deep, musky, delightfully salty-sweet taste of it makes him moan without thought, his tongue becoming more and more greedy as he licks between his fingers, desperate to take every little drop you've left behind.

"Good boy," you croon at him with lidded eyes. "Never thought you'd be such a good boy, Agent McKinley. But I'll be nice this once. You want a reward?"

His moustache twitches. "Fuck yeah."

"Get up." With a grunt, you untie his tie from the bed and haul him off, bringing him to his knees. When he's there, kneeling and looking up at you with those fiery eyes, you bend your head and kiss him roughly. "Take your cock out."

"Yes, ma'am." He obeys. Flings his belt to the side, almost tears the button and zip off his slacks. But he eventually gets his cock out, his perfect, throbbing, thick cock that's weeping precum and drooling onto the floor.

"Put your cock between my legs."

What? He looks up at you with a raised brow.

Rolling your eyes, you take over by bending and pinning his cock between your thighs. While you generally curse your short height, at this point you're grateful for it because his cock is sandwiched between the soft flesh of your thighs rather than the bony bits of your knees. "Move."

"Nnngh, thank you, ma'am," he whispers, his arms wrapping around your hips to help balance you as he begins to thrust his hips. Soft, slicking sounds come from behind you as he fucks your thighs; the sound of his foreskin slicking against his pre-cum soaked head, joining the sounds of you kissing the life out of the agent even as he fucks your thighs desperately.

"Fuck my legs till you cum. If you don't cum, too bad," you purr into his lips, enjoying the low groan as he nods his understanding. Deciding to give your lips a bit of a break, you rear up and rip your bra off. You want his lips on your tits and you want them there right now.

Collinn knows exactly what you want and gives it to you. He sucks, licks, and kisses your nipples and creates little hickies along the way. Worshipping your breasts with teeth and tongue and hands until you're clutching at his hair, pulling him ever closer until his face is squished in your cleavage. All the while he's pounding your legs like he would your pussy, his hips slapping against your thighs until both of you are starting to turn red from the impact.

Ah, but it takes surprisingly little time before he begins to beg you nice and pretty. "May I cum, ma'am?" He gasps into your chest.

"Mmmm," you purr and scratch at his scalp. "Not yet."

"Fuck!"

Undeterred, he tries again. "Pretty please, ma'am?"

"Not yet."

He's starting to lose his mind from holding his orgasm back. It's so close, he can taste it, can feel it rising in his balls. "Please!"

"Not yet. Hold it."

Finally, he breaks, snarling and clawing at you and seizing your lips with his own. "Fucking please let me cum, for god's sake! You're gonna drive me up the goddamn wall."

"That's the point," you cackle aloud. But you relent nevertheless. "Cum for me, slut."

Those four words tip him over the edge. "FUck!" He yells but squeezes it back into his throat, gritting his teeth and burying his face into your chest. His hips thrust uncontrollably, his twitching cock sending his cum spurting out and all over the place. Grunts and whimpers escape his throat long after his cock stops leaking cum, leaving his throat dry and sticky and aching as his head is pulled up and back so he can look up at you.

"You liked that, Agent McKinley?" Your voice is smug now.

A faint smile twitches across his handsome face and he cracks an eye open. "I goddamn loved it." Then he leans up to press a kiss to your smiling lips. "Ma'am."

Cheeky motherfucker. Well, you've got something that will keep him quiet for a while. "Good. Now clean this up. With your mouth."

Oh fuck, you've got him. You've fucking got him.

#r6s #rainbow six siege #warden #dom!reader #sub!warden #collinn mckinley #lemon

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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Bring It On: Fight to the Finish pt 5 (Branjie) - Ashley

A/N: so this is my longest chapter yet and has been my fave to write so far ft some heavy fanservice, cute branjie moments and a hint at potential scyvie. There are only 5 bring it on films (#worldwide cheermack DOES NOT count) so I only ever planned for there to be 5 chapters titlewise, meaning I’m just gonna have to get creative with sports idioms from here. Should be one or two more after this then maybe some one shots, who knows..hope you like, thanks for all the love so far. P.s: I have a sideblog now if anyone wants to chat bring it on/branjie in general - xoxo Ashley

“Hey, you’re actually really good at that!” Brooke found herself surprised as she watched Silky play around with the batons left over from the marching bands session in the gym as they waited for Vanessa to turn up.

“Girl, we’ve all got hidden talents,” Silky laughed in response as she continued to twirl the batons with great precision, throwing and catching them to the beat of the song that played.

Not shortly after, a crowd had formed around the girls and the squad all began to dance together in their own silly ways, throwing aside the rigidity and cheer-nature of their usual routines. Feeling herself start to let loose to the music and really connect with the squad - Brooke watched some of the other cheerleader’s personalities shine and allowed herself to see a more of a unique side to her teammates.

Although she thrived on the nature of competition and routine, a part of her relished the time they were spending simply having fun. Seeing Jaren do a double pirouette from the corner of her eye, Brooke shook her head at the boy and wagged a finger in his direction, before throwing herself into pirouettes and fouettes till they were having their own little dance-off in front of the squad - Brooke leaping across the hall in a way she just felt so accustomed to. Despite the fact that she had dove headfirst into cheer and carried on swimming strong for the past few weeks, Brooke knew her love for the classic beauty of ballet would always hold a special place in her heart - messing about like this giving her the sensation of an old friend coming to visit, the warmth of nostalgia arising like she was sipping a cup of tea.

Suddenly interrupted by a single stream of claps from across the hall, Brooke stopped and turned to see Vanessa making her way over, the usual twinkle in her eyes shining bright as she watched her squad embrace themselves. Ever since her reconciliation with Jovan and performance at the pep rally, Brooke had noticed the vulnerable and kind side of Vanessa that she usually kept closeted start to spread around the school. Whilst she still had her moments of ferocity, Brooke had noticed the dilapidation of Vanessa’s guns-a-blazing approach, the girl’s highly protective defence barriers starting to lower, exposing more of her real self to the squad. Vanessa had learned that in order to succeed, she didn’t need to rule with an iron fist, instead lending that hand to the others around her and helping to push them to new heights. Pushing Brooke to new heights.

“Okay, so when we’re ya’ll gonna show me this shit?” She exclaimed towards the group with a sense of dumbfoundedness. “You know, I was just about ready to come and scream at yous that we need to step our pussies up after seeing this hoe on the cover of American Cheerleader,” Vanessa help up a magazine that Brooke was unfamiliar with, “but I think we might be able to use some of this.”

Watching the cogs turning in her friend’s brain, Brooke couldn’t help but mentally swoon at the way Vanessa scrunched her face up when she concentrated - almost as if Brooke could visibly see all the pictures she painted inside her mind.

“Is that Vick?” Akeria snatched the magazine from Vanessa’s hand in order to get a closer look at it, Brooke joining her in tandem.

Vicky Taylor, Brooke recognised the girl on the cover from her “Cheer 101” with Vanessa when she had first joined the squad. The ruthless leader of the Vixens, Brooke knew the girl had a reputation of ferociousness and a willingness to fight. The sly fox of the Cheer world, it was a well know fact that Vicky did not shy from addressing the lingering elephant in the room at any circumstance. Not only were the squad an intense rival for the Amazons but the feud between Vanessa and the other captain seemed to be deep-rooted into the woods of the competition.

“She’s not that bad,” Jaren rolled his eyes as the members of the squad gaped at the cover, “she can be a real sweetheart.”

“Just cause you taught her how to rap like 2 nationals ago,” Monet nudged her friend in the ribs, resulting in a squeal from Jaren’s behalf.

“Irregardless, that should be me on that cover,” a wave of determination crashed over the captain, “Ever since she made me drop the spirit stick at camp, we have always come in second place to that girl. We’ve been looking at this all wrong. I spent so long trying to be like the Vixens, trying to do what they do - but we need to be different, we need to take what we got and make ourselves unique.”

Jay nodded adamantly in the background; “For the first time ever, I think you’re speaking utter sense, Vanjie.”

“Don’t get me wrong, we’re here to cheer first and foremost - but if we use the talents that we all got and learn how to apply them to the competition, I think we could hit the jackpot. Those judges sit and watch repetitive moves all day - if we throw in a couple of Brooke’s ballet moves, a few of Silk’s batons and a death drop here and there then we got the recipe for success.”

“Maybe it’ll undo that curse!” Silky boomed, garnering laughs from the entire squad.

A pang of longingness hit Brooke - although she was now more a member of the squad that she ever had been - she felt a hint of jealousy at the thought of the years they had all spent growing up together in the smaller neighbourhood. She was suddenly struck by the fear of all the memories she had missed, feeling envy at the thought that some of these girls had spent their whole lives knowing Vanessa. Even though she was usually having fun herself, Brooke was a long time sufferer of the fear of missing out, and coupled with the intense crush she had developed on the cheer captain, she knew she’d have given anything at that moment to have spent those nights at cheer camp, sneaking out of dorms and telling legends with Vanessa and the squad.

“Get warmed up then we’ll see what we can do,” Vanessa set the squad away at stretches and laps of the gym before pulling Brooke to one side.

Despite being exposed to her increasingly more, Brooke still felt that rush of blood go to her head every time Vanessa spoke to her, every time she felt her smooth skin so much as brush against her own, every time she heard her distinctive laugh or voice fill up the room.

“You okay?” Vanessa asked her, clearly noticing the slight dip in Brooke’s disposition.

“It’s fine, you know how I overthink things,” Brooke brushed off her anxieties, longing so much to open up to the girl right then and there. To give her everything and more. Every inch of her thoughts, feelings, body, mind. It was all hers.

“You’re a star, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa looked dead into Brooke’s eyes with a confidence that could shatter glass, “Don’t ever stop thinking it. Now hurry up so you can teach me all this ballerina shit!”

Enlightened by the other girl’s simple yet meaningful words encouragement, Brooke’s smile beamed from cheek to cheek: “And then the student became the master.”

***

“Do I look okay?” Brooke asked her best friend as she examined herself in her full-length mirror, her need for perfection driving her to change her outfit 5 times before he arrived and grab her hairbrush to fix any strays every time he ushered her to leave. Finally deciding on a denim off-the-shoulder dress that exposed the majority of her back, she raked around her room looking for a bag to match.

Beep. The horn sounded outside.

So maybe it wasn’t just her own battle for perfection driving her to look her best.

“For the last time, yes!” Jovan grabbed her arm and ushered her out of the house and into the car, where his sister waited impatiently for the pair.

“You get lost in there or something?” Vanessa barked at her brother whilst shaking her eyes at Brooke.

“It’s not my fault,” he raised his eyebrows at his sister - Brooke happy to see that the siblings held a much closer relationship than they had when she first moved to Tampa. Even though they annoyed each other from time to time, the love between the two was evident and Brooke enjoyed nothing more than being able to spend time with both of them.

“We’re picking Brad up on the way,” Vanessa informed the pair - a part of Brooke sinking at the thought of having to sit in the back of the car with Vanessa’s douchebag boyfriend.

Despite knowing her crush on the girl was never something she’d indulge in and that Vanessa didn’t feel the same way, Brooke still knew Vanessa was better than Brad. Seeing and hearing the way he treated her and dabbled with other girls when Vanessa wasn’t around, Brooke found herself continually baffled at how one of the strongest and most determined women she knew - in fact, the strongest and most determined woman she knew - allowed herself to be walked all over by a high school has been waiting to happen.

“Don’t roll your eyes,” Vanessa blurted as she started to pull out of the street, her eyes focused on the road ahead of her.

“How could even you see that I’m rolling my eyes?” Brooke responded. Reason number eighty-nine why she believed Vanessa was some form of superhuman.

“Cause I know you,” Vanessa retorted - remembering the way Brooke consoled her after she confided in her about Brad’s cheating.

“She’s right,” Jovan piped in, “I don’t know why you give that boy the time of day.”

“You don’t understand,” Vanessa responded abruptly, an awkward silence lingering until they pulled up to the front of Brad’s house and he entered the car.

Sitting next to Brooke was reason number one - in fact, the only reason - why she believed Vanessa was the stupidest person on the planet.

“Hey babe,” he greeted Vanessa, before turning to Brooke and smiling.

“Brooke, you ready to get pissed?” he pulled a can of cider from his backpack and tossed it to her.

“I’m good - practice and everything,” Brooke responded through gritted teeth, taking her every ounce of self-control not to slap the bones out of him.

Okay, maybe it did have a little bit to do with her crush on Vanessa.

“I’m sure Vanj will let you have a night off, won’t you babe?” he grinned at Brooke.

Boy was she wishing she’d spent longer getting ready.

***

Not only had half of their year gathered to celebrate Akeria’s birthday but there was also a wide range of people Brooke had never met from neighbouring schools and the world of cheer combined. A bittersweet taste lingered in her mouth - here she was with all of her friends, her best friend and the girl she admired so much yet she felt as though she wasn’t fully there, never fully present. Lucky to have Jovan by her side to keep her grounded, a familiar newcomer to the life parties and high school socialising, Brooke was starting to wish she’d taken the cider from Brad nonetheless, longing to rinse away her anxieties in the short term at least.

“That boy has his eye on you,” she pointed out to her friend, taking note of the glances that kept getting thrown in their direction from across the room.

“Him?” Jovan nodded his head in the direction of the long-haired brunette, clearly panicked at the thought of interaction with him.

“Yes, but don’t stare like that you’ll freak him out!” Brooke laughed at her friend who was now taking suspicious looking glances at the boy in red.

“Oh my god,” Brooke gave him a light slap on the face, “Just go say hi!”

“Easy for you to say,” Jovan’s huffy side started to come out, Brooke finding pleasure in watching him get all nervous and flustered in the presence of a good looking boy. “Look at him. He’s like a fucking pristine Prince I don’t know why he’s looking at my shabby ass,”

“Maybe he’s into a bit of grit,” Brooke responded before realising that the boy had started to make his way over to them. “Just be cool.”

“Hi, do I know you?” he asked Jovan, his eyes scanning Brooke’s friend’s body up and down.

“I don’t think so,” Jovan looked down to the floor. Brooke swore she could see his cheeks turn a deep scarlet. She would never let him live this down, she thought to herself as she began to make an exit, ignoring her usual brazen friend’s sudden pleading eyes as they screamed at her for help. Giving him an assuring nod (you’ve got this), she set off to find Vanessa, desperate to tell her all about the cute boy her brother was talking to.

“Hey, you seen Vanessa?” she asked Monet after searching the kitchen, garden and living room for the dark-haired girl.

“I think I saw her and Brad upstairs,” she responded with a smile, pointing Brooke in the right direction.

Although she knew she may end up third wheeling the couple, Brooke fruitfully believed she was doing Vanessa a favour by dragging her away from Brad - having not seen the couple at all since they arrived at the party.

Going to walk into the first door she came across, Brooke stopped dead in her tracks as she opened it, seeing Brad - topless, kissing someone, someone who wasn’t Vanessa.

“Shit,” the girl muttered before grabbing her clothes and running past Brooke, leaving a purple balconette bra on the floor.

Frozen in place, Brooke didn’t know how to react.

Yes, she already knew that Brad had been unfaithful to Vanesa, but something about seeing him with the girl when Vanessa was in the same house, when she’d driven him here, something about seeing it with her own eyes, something about the bottle of lube on the table, the tacky violet bra on the floor made her want to give him a piece of her mind. And that she did.

“You want a piece, Brooke?” he laughed as she strode over to him, a kilogram of fury in every step.

“She deserves so much better than you,” Brooke jabbed at his chest, a sudden urge to protect Vanessa coming over her, the way the girl repeatedly brushed off his cheating, the way she told Brooke not to phone him when she was upset, playing on her mind.

“Oh, you want to get handsy?” he grinned at Brooke, placing his own hand on her arm.

A ball of slime fell straight from his mouth and Brooke was revolted.

And then Brooke’s world came crashing down.

“Hey, Monet said you we’re-” she started. But didn’t finish.

Turning around, Brooke saw the pain in her eyes, instantly realising the mistake - the image that lay before Vanessa. The shirtless boyfriend. The blonde best friend. The removed bra. The lube. The fucking lube. She watched the heartbreak play across the theatre screen. She wanted to pause. To rewind. But she couldn’t. Before she could even think the credits were rolling and Vanessa was fleeing the screen, desperate not to get stuck in the aisles giving way to slow paced families and chattering gaggles of teens. She had upped and left.

“No, Vanessa,” she chased her out of the room and down the stairs, repeating it till she turned. Praying she would turn. Not a care in the world who heard or whether she was making a scene because all she needed was for Vanessa to turn.

She didn’t.

“I didn’t do it!” She shouted after the girl. They were outside now, Vanessa running to her car and jumping into the front seat.

“Please.” Before she knew it she was stood in front of the bonnet. Headlights bright in her eyes but she could still see Vanessa’s face. The haunting look of someone who had been crushed into a million pieces and tried to stick themselves back together with fluff-covered sellotape.

Vanessa revved her engine.

Brooke stayed still.

“Move!” she shouted.

Brooke stayed still.

“Fuck sake,” she could make out the movement of Vanessa’s lips as she got out of the car, a sense of hope filling in Brooke’s mind, only for Vanessa to stride straight ahead of her.

“Guess I’m walking home,” she laughed to herself as she built pace on Brooke.

God, she was fast. Reason number 90 why Vanessa is superhuman.

“Vanessa!” Brooke shouted after her friend, “Can you just stop so I can explain what happened you’ve got it all wrong.”

She kept walking.

“Vanessa,” she called again, the girl gaining pace, Brooke wanted to try and tell her about the other girl but knew she was too far away to hear.

She stopped.

“Fuck you,” Vanessa responded.

The words stung. Although Brooke had understood what it looked like from Vanessa’s point of view, she found herself getting frustrated at the girl, did she really not trust her? She knew he cheated, she already knew.

“Was that your way of showing me I’m too good for him? Cause it fucking worked Brooke, ” she said to the girl, her voice rising mid-sentence.

About the ask the girl how she could assume the worst of her so quickly, Vanessa started to let loose at Brooke.

“It wasn’t me Vanessa,” she shouted - her usual polite manners and calm reasoning were thrown out the window. She knew from an objective standpoint that she should just sit down and tell Vanessa what happened but in the heat of the moment when Vanessa was shouting and Brooke started to feel hurt at the accusations, everything was jumbled and a logical approach wasn’t even in the distant horizon.

“You knew anyway!” she found herself getting mad at the girl, mad at the girl she cared for so much letting her boyfriend stomp all over her tiny frame, “You fucking knew!”

“But it’s you,” Vanessa responded, clearly coming from that same place of hurt Brooke had witnessed the night she fought with Jovan, “You don’t understand shit Brooke, so stop acting like you know everything.”

“I understand plenty. You let your boyfriend cheat on you again and again with no consequences but then take it out on me with not an ounce of blame on precious Brad. I get that you feel betrayed but it wasn’t even fucking me, Vanessa.”

“God,” Vanessa was delirious, her eyes looking up to the sky, a laugh escaping her hoarse throat. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Her stomach full of butterflies, Brooke wanted everything to go back to the way it was. She wanted that magic remote to alter time. She wanted to pause and stay with Vanessa, calm her down, make sure she was okay. She wanted to kiss her, to kiss her till she couldn’t yell anymore, till she believed Brooke, till she understood that all Brooke ever wanted to do was look out for her.

She imagined it, her lips on Vanessa’s the way they had been in the night club - but for real.

The butterflies escaped; punching holes in her skin.

She imagined holding her, hands in her hair. Not the way Brad had been with the redhead - she’d hold her tenderly like a China doll, so brittle that it could break in her hands. She’d run her hands through her dark hair and kiss her with passion, with promise, with whatever it took.

Brooke knew there was nothing more she wanted at that moment than to kiss Vanessa Mateo.

And then Vanessa kissed her.

For real.

She wanted to pinch herself but her hands were glued to Vanessa, magnets unable to resist the gravitational pull.

It was everything she’d imagined and nothing like it at the same time.

Because it was real.

She tasted like artificial cherries. Sweet. She was so sweet.

If Vanessa really was a China doll then Brooke would have broken her by now. The pressure they exerted on each other getting larger and larger, they both gripped tightly as if their lives depended on it. As if they’d been waiting for it, starving for it.

Brooke had, she thought to herself. Had Vanessa?

She didn’t want to question it. All she knew is that it was happening and she wouldn’t stop our of fear that it wouldn’t happen again.

Vanessa’s hands spitting flames everywhere.

She was submerged in the heat, plunged deep into the fiery pit.

Vanessa’s hands on her. All over her.

She was in heaven. Or was it hell. It didn’t matter, because Vanessa was there riding that same train. Until it stopped and left them deserted in a neutral limbo. They heard shouting, their names. Footsteps. They broke apart.

Brooke was confused at where they had arrived and lost in this new world, a familiar voice snapping her back to reality.

Jovan.

Everything flooded back to her. Jovan. Brad. The Redhead. The Amazons.

Vanessa.

“Are yous okay?” he ran over to them, putting an instinctive arm around his sister.

“Brad cheated on me again,” she whispered, barely making eye contact with her brother as he shepherded her away to the car, Brooke in tow.

“Brooke saw him, with another girl.”

Dramatic irony loomed over Brooke, casting a shadow behind her. Vanessa didn’t care about Brad. She cared about Brooke.

The silence was abundant as they sat in the car, Jovan about to turn the engine on before he stopped and turned to the girls: “I’ll be two seconds.”

And he was gone. And they were alone.

“It wasn’t me,” Brooke whispered even though no one was there.

“I know. I just thought it was and it made me-” she stopped mid-sentence. Brooke could almost sense that painful look from the backseat.

“You need to break up with Brad,”

“I can’t,” Vanessa whispered - her fears a can of worms starting to spill out of her. “Brooke, if you tell anyone, if anyone knew,-” she stopped herself again. Brooke could hear her trying to fight the tears, the build up in her throat, she could make out her hands on her eyelashes, willing herself not to cry.

“You need to break up with Brad,” she repeated.

“I think that’s fucked now anyway,” Vanessa responded, “What am I gonna do? Brooke, you can’t tell anyone about that, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

But Brooke’s mind was out of answers, out of solutions, out of reasoning. The only fact her brain could discern was that kissing Vanessa was a lot better than not kissing Vanessa. Now that she’d had a taste of the forbidden cherry she needed another bite. And she’d take one even if it killed her cause god did it taste sweet.

And then Jovan returned. Brooke couldn’t focus on the grin on his face, the happiness he was radiating because her mind couldn’t focus on anything but Vanessa and before she knew it she was outside of her own house, time playing its part as the cruel mistress.

She didn’t sleep that night.

Often she dreamed of the head cheerleader and couldn’t wait to fall asleep so she could nourish in all of her feelings without the guilt. Tonight, the dream was real life and she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head - right until the “what was I thinking”. The painstaking cruel “what was I thinking” that kept it from being a dream after all. But Brooke knew that no matter how much that part hurt, it was worth what came before. She didn’t care about getting burned when she got to dance in the embers - for her, that was enough.

***

Brooke waited and waited the following Monday. She wouldn’t show, she figured. Because she hadn’t texted, she hadn’t called. She’d left Brooke a glass slipper then disappeared once the clock struck midnight.

“Look, we’ll just do some more practice of our routine, it doesn’t look like she’s gonna show and there’s no point in learning something new,” Akeria announced to the group as time started ticking even more and there was no sign of their captain.

“Maybe she’s just late?” Brooke asked with a sense of hopefulness - her mind was at a loss over the weekend, circles of confusion running around her.

She didn’t want to see Vanessa because she had such strong feelings for her, she needed to see her because Vanessa, too, understood what was going on and there was no one else Brooke could talk to about how fucked up her head was since Friday. Everything that had built up since she moved to Tampa had all released at once and she was left feeling empty. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” Brooke wanted to know more than anything - did she feel the same, had she felt the same all along. Unanswered questions made list after list in her head till she found herself starting to walk to Vanessa’s house, always too scared to enter, always too scared to knock, always turning back and taking the smoothest course home instead of the dark, winding, forbidden path to the girl who had kissed her, always too scared of tripping on the branch of an uprooted tree and falling to her demise.

And then all of a sudden she was in front of her. But the spirit that once filled her till she might burst, the pep she carried on her back to practice wasn’t. The things that made Vanessa herself were nowhere to be found - just the shadow of a girl who wanted to be different, who wanted to stand out and be a team, who wanted to kiss Brooke.

“Get in position for a 360 helicopter,” she shouted towards the group - no welcome, no team talk, no look in Brooke’s direction.

“Girl, you know that’s illegal,” Monet looked shocked at the captain.

“Yeah,” Silky chimed in, “I know you’ve been through a breakup but you’re not really thinking straight Vanjie,”

She had broken up with Brad, Brooke realised - her heart began to warm. But then she remembered that she hadn’t texted, hadn’t called. She remembered the “I don’t know what I was thinking.” It didn’t matter that Vanessa had broken up with Brad because she didn’t seem to want Brooke either way.

“This is nothing to do with my breakup. Sure, it’s all fun and games being team spirit and doing grand-jetes but is that really gonna make us beat the Vixens? I’ve been rethinking and we need extreme,”

The squad looked at her with a gulp of astonishment and surprise. There was that sneer of cold command - gone the kind diplomat who the group had began to know.

“We’ve spent weeks learning that stuff, Vanjie,” Jaren gave her a pointed look, clearly fed up with her hot and cold antics. “You can’t change it again, this close to nationals.”

“Why aren’t you in formation for a 360 helicopter?” she responded, ignoring the squads clear discern with her sudden change of pace and heart.

“Brooke, are you gonna get into base position or just stand there letting your ass form it’s own Instagram?”

If she thought Vanessa’s last words to her stung. Then these ones ripped through her skin like she was being stabbed. Quickly and sharply, Vanessa left her to bleed out.

Vanessa was a ball of sporadic blaze and Brooke didn’t know how much longer she could take the changes in her mood. One minute she was beaming with all the heat of a thousand suns. The next she was an icy queen readying to crack anyone that got in her way.

So Brooke did one of the most difficult things she had done in her life - she walked away from Vanessa, straight out of practice, straight out of school, as far away as she could get from the girl who could make her so elated one minute and so beneath her the next. She felt like walking all the way to Toronto and back to her old life, where she had never felt the sinking of heartbreak like this, her naive mind a place of utopia.

***

Her time giving up on Vanessa didn’t last long. 3 days to be precise. After trying and failing miserably to avoid practice, avoid her in the corridors and even avoid Jovan - Brooke had tipped over her boiling point. She knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, she knew she was supposed to be resisting her temptation, but before long she was back walking on that gloomy path, her ability to control her desires out of the window. She had walked away from Vanessa that Monday afternoon but knew she wouldn’t be able to do it again - the need for answers and the lack of knowledge about her own life driving her insane, she needed to know why Vanessa had kissed her, why she acted that way at practice.

Without out even processing where she was going, she made her way to Vanessa’s house, almost like muscle memory had taken her there. Except, this time she didn’t turn around and take the steady course - she dove into the unknown.

She made her way to the girl’s window and tapped, and only then did she realise what she was doing, but it was too late to go back. She’d already taken the gamble and all that was left to do was to wait in nervousness for the result.

Before her was the face of the girl she’d tried every precaution to avoid. As she opened the window, leaving only the density of air between them, Brooke couldn’t tell if she’d won or lost her bet either way.

Bags under her eyes and hairs falling stray from her ponytail, Vanessa looked like she hadn’t slept in a week but Brooke still found herself mesmerised nonetheless.

“I have a front door, yanno,” she broke the silence first.

“Didn’t think my ass would fit through,” Brooke raised her eyebrows at the girl. She may have spent the past few days living and breathing Vanessa but her feelings of passion and desire to kiss the girl again did not fully overshadow the harsh words Vanessa had uttered to her. She wouldn’t let her off the hook that easily.

“Touche,” Vanessa opened the window wider before looking down at Brooke’s asset in question, “Think it might just fit through here.”

“Why would I wanna come in your room, Vanessa?”

“The same reason why you’re outside my window at 2AM,” she responded bluntly.

“Touche,” Brooke rolled her eyes, unable to help herself from falling back into that natural lull of playfulness with Vanessa as she climbed through the frame and into the room, holding onto the other girl’s hand for balance.

That spark never did go away.

“I have a lot of questions for you,” Brooke stated, unsure how to approach the situation, unsure of how to be so close to the other girl without pinning her arms against the wall and kissing her until her jaw ached.

“Shoot,” Vanessa responded, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her hands playing with the cuffs of her oversized jumper. What Brooke had realised to be her own jumper from the night Vanessa had slept at her house. It probably smelt of cherries now, she started to get herself chased away by her thoughts before remembering why she was there.

“Why did you kiss me?” Brooke asked, joining Vanessa on the bed and pressing on the bottom of her chin with her finger so that they’d be making eye contact. She needed Vanessa to look into her eyes and tell her she meant it, tell her she really didn’t know what she was thinking in order to stay that least bit sane. In order to get out of the horrible limbo that she had been floating around in.

“Why do you think?” Vanessa gave Brooke a pointed look.

“I want you to tell me,” Brooke responded, placing a reassuring hand over Vanessa’s, the way she had when she’d watched the girl open up previously.

“I thought you’d got with Brad and I think it just made me see how real it all was,” her voice started to break.

“All what?”

“All this. You, Brooke. From that first time I saw you in the cafeteria, you stood out to me from everyone who watched us, something about you just caught my eye and then you were here in my kitchen and I just about died. I had it all under control, I had a boyfriend who no one questioned, I was captain of the Amazons, I could focus on that. And then I saw you and I just thought ‘god, this girl’s gonna fuck it all up’”

“You didn’t like me,” Brooke said, her mind not fully adjusting to what was happening. She thought she was coming for closure but was now opening Pandora’s Box for all the baggage to spill out. “You didn’t want me on the squad,”

“You really are a dumb, blonde cheerleader, aren’t you?” Vanessa shook her head and laughed to herself like she had when Brooke had asked her about Brad, about why this was any different to what she already knew. “Fucking hell, do I have to spell this out for you?”

“I’d like that,” Brooke laughed, “In a cheer.”

“You just did something to me Brooke, and it scared me. It really fucking scared me and it still is. I tried to push you away but felt guilty so I tried to be your friend, tried to fight it. I let go at the club, but the thought of you with Brad just sent me insane and I couldn’t anymore,”

“It doesn’t matter Vanessa,” Brooke gave Vanessa a reassuring squeeze on the hand. “I’m just glad I wasn’t making all of this up. No one cares. Everyone knows you’re a boss ass bitch and you’d stomp on anyone who got in your way, I don’t think they’d say anything to you. And your parents wouldn’t mind, look at Jovan. You don’t need to keep putting up these defences and trying to push me away every time you show your feelings, there’s nothing wrong with it,“

“I don’t care what people would say about me Brooke, I care about what they’d think. I wanna be known for my talent not who I like. I know it’s 2019 and all this bullshit but I just don’t want that Brooke, I’m ashamed of it. And my parents are different, they love Jovan.”

“They love you,” Brooke pleaded with the girl.

“I don’t want to talk about them,” Vanessa responded and Brooke knew that she had reached her breaking point, with nothing more to do than to pull the other girl into a hug.

And then they were kissing.

If she thought that she’d felt the most passion she was ever capable of feeling on Saturday, then she was wrong. Vanessa was extremely dehydrated and all she had left was the tall glass of Brooke, right there on her bed - and Brooke just couldn’t help but just give herself away.

She kissed with intensity and passion. If an earthquake came and the walls around them started to fall then Brooke wouldn’t have noticed - she was fully engrossed In Vanessa. Vanessa’s mouth pressing against hers. Vanessa’s tongue sliding its way into her mouth with careful precision and warmth. Vanessa’s teeth pressing softly onto Brooke’s bottom lip.

“God, I’ve wanted you to do that for a while,” Brooke whispered to the girl, holding her face between her palms, looking deep into her dark eyes, just stopping to make sure it was all real.

“What about this?” Vanessa asked, a sultry look melting over her face as she ripped the bobble out of her hair and pushed Brooke onto her back, legs either side of her. Slowly she made her way on top of the girl, taking the time to note every detail about her - the look on her face, the way her blonde tendrils spread across the pillow so haphazardly and neatly at the same time.

Although fully aware that she was staring at the other girl, Brooke couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes as Vanessa pressed her body against hers and kissed her again. She watched as Vanessa’s dainty hands made to the edge of her shirt. The fireworks were bigger, better, hotter and all over Brooke’s body. She was fully submerged in the inferno, riding the train down to hell, knowing yet not caring about the consequences.

Nodding her head in consent, the unspoken bond between the two was clear as Vanessa moved her hands up Brooke’s pale chest, caressing her the way no boy had ever done before. So careful and graceful yet so hot and lustful in synchronisation.

The reasons why Vanessa was a super-human built and built till the number reached infinity and the mental list combusted into a million fragments of the beautiful Latina.

Brooke’s back arched with the need to be with Vanessa, to give her everything and more, to release all of the emotions she’d had since that first day and show her how she really felt in a way that transcended the English language.

Her hands made her way through the girl’s dark hair, down to her lower back, exploring Vanessa’s body in a frantic exciting way - unable to stop and stay anywhere at the thought of what lay beyond.

They were two athletes, two perfectionists, pushing themselves to further and further limits till the race was over and they didn’t even know who had came in first place, who had crossed that barrier before the other, but it didn’t matter, because as they lay there holding one another in the beautiful catastrophe of Vanessa’s bed, the only thing that mattered was that they had done it together.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #yvie oddly #branjie #bring it on #high school au #lesbian au #cheerleader au #mild smut #ashley #concrit welcome #submission #s11

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writinggeisha · 5 years ago

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We’ve got rules and standards for everything we include in our novels—how to start those novels, how to increase tension, how to introduce characters, how to format, what to include in dialogue, how to punctuate dialogue, what to exclude from the first chapter. And we have rules for numbers. Or maybe we should call all these rules conventions.

This article covers a few common specifics of using numbers and numerals in fiction. I’m just going to list the rules here, without much explanation, laying out those that you’ll typically make use of in a novel. Keep in mind that there are always exceptions. For the most part, you’ll want to stick to the standards to make the read smooth and easy for the reader and create consistency within the manuscript.

Yet we’re talking fiction here, not a treatise or dissertation or scientific finding. You have choices. And style choices sometimes get to stomp all over the rules. If you want to flout the rules, do so for a reason and do so consistently every time that same reason is applicable in the manuscript.

For a comprehensive list of the rules concerning numbers, check out the Chicago Manual of Style or another style guide.

______________________

General Rules

__ Spell out numbers from zero through one hundred. You could argue for zero through nine, as is recommended for AP style, but do note that the recommendations in the Associated Press Stylebook are primarily for newspaper and magazine writing. Some rules are different for fiction.

You could also make a style choice to spell out almost all numbers, even if that conflicts with this and other rules.

Use numerals for most numbers beyond one hundred. While this is the standard, there are definitely exceptions to this one.

The witch offered Snow White one crisp, dewy apple.

Bobby Sue sang thirty-two songs before her voice gave out.

The rock-a-thon lasted for just over 113 hours.

The witch offered Snow White 1 crisp, dewy apple. Incorrect

__ Spell out these same numbers (0-100) even if they’re followed by hundred or thousand. (Your characters may have reason to say or think all manner of odd numbers, so yes, zero thousand might come up, even though this isn’t a common usage in our 3-D lives.)

The forces at Wilmington were bolstered by the arrival of ten thousand fresh soldiers.

The knight had died four hundred years earlier.

But—The knight had died 418 years earlier.

“How many thousands of lies have you told?” “I’ve told zero thousand, you fool.”

__ Spell out ordinal numbers through one hundred as well—even for military units and street names. Ordinal numbers are often used to show relationship and rank.

We’d write the Eighty-second Airborne Division but the 101st Airborne Division. (Newspapers and military publications may have different conventions.)

A restaurant would be on Fifth Avenue, not 5th Avenue. Or the restaurant is on 129th Street, not One hundred and twenty-ninth Street.

A quick guide to ordinals—

no ordinal for zero twentieth first twenty-first second twenty-second third and so on . . . fourth fifth* sixth thirtieth (thirty-first, thirty-second, and so on) seventh fortieth eighth fiftieth ninth sixtieth tenth seventieth eleventh eightieth twelfth ninetieth thirteenth fourteenth one hundredth fifteenth* one thousandth sixteenth one millionth seventeenth eighteenth nineteenth

The only odd ordinals are those using fives—fifth and fifteenth. Note the letter D in both hundredth and thousandth.

__ Use full-size letters, not superscript, to mark ordinal numbers (st, nd, rd, th) written as numerals.

__ Use first, second, third and so on rather than firstly, secondly, thirdly unless your character would use this odd construction as part of her style.

__ Spell out numbers that start a sentence. If spelling creates something awkward, rewrite.

One hundred and fifteen [not 115] waiters applied for the job.

__ Hyphenate compound numbers from twenty-one to ninety-nine. Do this when the number is used alone and when used in combination with other numbers.

Louise owned forty-one cars.

“I heard she owned one hundred and thirty-five diamond rings.”

__ For an easier read, when numbers are written side by side, write one as a numeral and the other as a word.

He made 5 one-hundred-pound cakes.

We lashed 3 six-foot ladders together.

__ Spell out simple fractions and hyphenate them.

He took only one-half of yesterday’s vote.

He needed a two-thirds majority to win the election.

__ For the most part, treat large numbers, made large by being paired with the words million, billion, and so on, just as you would other numbers.

Some nine [not greater than one hundred, so spelled out] million years ago, the inhabitants of Ekron migrated to our solar system.

The family had collected the pennies, 433 [greater than one hundred] million of them, over eighty years.

But for large numbers with decimals, even if the number is less than 101, use the numeral version.

The team needed 10.5 million signatures for their petition.

Yet since we want to hear the words, you could just as easily write—

The team needed ten and a half million signatures for their petition.

This last example works both for narration and dialogue. But for dialogue you could also write—

“The team needed ten point five million.”

__ Use words rather than symbols and abbreviations in dialogue and in most narrative. Symbols are a visual representation, but characters need to think and speak the words.

Use the words rather than the symbols for degree (°) and percent (%) and number (#), both in dialogue and narrative. Use the word dollar rather than the dollar sign ($) in dialogue. Do not abbreviate the words pounds or ounces, feet or inches (or yards), hours or minutes or seconds, or miles per hour (or similar words) in dialogue or narrative.

An exception might include something like stretches of text where you note the changing speeds of a car but don’t want to repeat miles per hour again and again. Your use of mph becomes a style choice.

You might find other exceptions in headers and chapter titles. You can, of course, use symbols in titles and headers if you want to. For example, in geo-political thrillers, stories that jump all over the world and back again, headers might show longitude and latitude and the degree symbol would come in handy.

If you do include full compass coordinates in the narrative, using numerals and the symbols for degrees, minutes, and seconds might be the best choice in terms of clarity and ease of reading.

“But I don’t have a million dollars.”

“Nobody gave a hundred percent.”

“The baby weighed seven pounds eleven ounces.”

“It’s fourteen degrees out there!”

The # of crimes he’d committed kept rising. Incorrect

The chasm looked at least 40 ft. wide. Incorrect

The roadster crept along at no more than 28 mph. Incorrect

Note: You’re writing fiction. Think flow in the visuals as well as in the words. What will make sense to the reader and keep him from tripping over your style choices?

Time

__ Use numerals when you include a.m. and p.m., but you don’t have to use a.m. and p.m.

It was 5:43 a.m. when he got me out of bed. Correct

It was five forty-three a.m. Incorrect

__ Use lower case letters with periods or small caps without periods for a.m. and p.m.

__ Include a space between the numbers and a.m. or p.m., but no space within a.m. or p.m.

__ Spell out numbers when you include o’clock.

But he did wait until after five o’clock to call.

__ Use numerals to emphasize exact times, except in dialogue.

She pointed out that it was still 5:43 in the morning.

“It’s four forty-three.” She looked out into the darkness. “In the morning!”

The robbery took place at 2:22 a.m.

__ Spell out words for the hour, quarter, and half hours.

The hall clock was wrong; it showed eight thirty. No, it showed eight forty-five.

__ Do not use a hyphen to join hours and minutes. I have seen advice on several Internet sites that says you do use a hyphen in such cases, except when the rest of the number is already hyphenated. So they’d have you write two-twenty but two twenty-five. This doesn’t make much sense, although there may be a style guide out there recommending such punctuation (and may provide a valid reason for it). The Chicago Manual of Style, however, does not use a hyphen (see 9.38 in the sixteenth edition). Their example is “We will resume at ten thirty.”

It was four-forty-five. Incorrect

It was four forty-five. Correct

The bomb went off at eleven-thirty. Incorrect

The bomb went off at eleven thirty. Correct

__ While we normally would never use both o’clock and a.m. or p.m. and typically don’t use o’clock with anything other than the hour, fiction has needs other writing doesn’t. The following might very well come out of a character’s mouth or thoughts—

It was five o’clock in the a.m.

“Mommy, it it four thirty o’clock yet?

Dates

__ Dates can be written a number of ways. The twenty-fifth of December, December 25, December 25, 2015, or the twenty-fifth are all valid ways of referring to the same day.

December 25th and December 25th, 2015 are incorrect. Do not use ordinal numbers for dates that include month, or month and year, written in this format. You can, however, write the twenty-fifth of December.

December 25 and December 25, 2015 would both be prounounced as the ordinal, even though the th is not written.

The exception is in dialogue.

“Your kids can’t wait for December twenty-fifth.”

__ Do not use a hyphen (actually, this in an en dash) for a range of dates that begins with the words from or between. (This rule is true of all numbers, not just dates, arranged this way.) Use the words to, through, or until with from, and and with between.

He planned to be out of town from August 15-September 5. Incorrect.

He planned to be out of town from August 15 to September 5. Correct

He planned to be out of town between August 15-September 5. Incorrect

He planned to be out of town between August 15 and September 5. Correct

He planned to be out of town August 15-September 5. Correct

__ Decades can be written as words or numbers (four- or two-digit years). Unless it’s in reference to a named era or age—the Roaring Twenties—do not capitalize the decade.

The cars from the thirties are more than classics.

Cars of the 1930s were my dad’s favorites.

The teacher played songs from the ’60s and ’70s to get the crowd in the right mood. (The punctuation is an apostrophe, not an opening quotation mark.)

__ There is no apostrophe between the year and the letter S except for a possessive.

The doctor gave up smoking back in the 1980’s. Incorrect

The doctor gave up smoking back in the 1980s. Correct

The doctor gave up smoking back in the ’80’s. Incorrect

The doctor gave up smoking back in the ’80s. Correct

BUT—She was the fifties’ [also the ’50s’] most glamorous star.

An earlier example was incorrect—She was decked out in cute 1950’s clothes, but the haircut was atrocious. Incorrect

__ Spell out century references.

He wanted to know if it happened in the eighteenth or the nineteenth century. When the guide reminded him it was the seventeen hundreds, he was even more confused.

__ Adding mid to date terms can be confusing. The general rule is that mid, as a prefix, does not get a hyphen. So midyear, midcentury, midterm, midmonth, and midthirties are all correct. (The same rules apply for other prefixes, such as pre or post, that can be used with date words.)

There are, however, exceptions—

Include a hyphen before a capital letter. Thus, mid-October.

Include a hyphen before a numeral. Thus, mid-1880s.

Include a hyphen before compounds (hyphenated or open). Thus, mid-nineteenth century and mid-fourteenth-century lore.

Note: The Chicago Manual of Style has a wonderful and comprehensive section on hyphenating words. I recommend it without reservation.

Dialogue

__ Spell out numbers in dialogue. When a character speaks, the reader should hear what he says. And although a traditional rule tells us not to use and with whole numbers that are spelled out, keep your character in mind. Many people add the and in both words and thoughts. Once again, the rules are different for fiction.

“I collect candlesticks. At last count I had more than a hundred and forty.”

“At last count I had more than one forty.”

“She gave her all, 24/7.” Incorrect

“She gave her all, twenty-four seven.” Correct

One exception to this rule is four-digit years. You can spell out years, and you’d definitely want to if your character has an unusual pronunciation of them. But you could use numerals.

“He told me the property passed out of the family in 1942.”

“I thought it was fifty-two?”

A second exception would be for a confusing number or a long series of numbers. Again, if you want readers to hear the character saying the number, spell it out. Even common numbers might be spoken differently. One character might say eleven hundred dollars while another says one thousand one hundred dollars.

If you have to include a full telephone number—because something about the digits is vital—use numerals, even in dialogue. (But if you want to emphasize the way the numbers are spoken, spell out the numbers.)

You’d use numerals rather than words because writing seven or ten words for the numbers would be cumbersome. But most of the time there is no reason to write out a full phone number.

__ Write product and brand names and titles as they are spelled, even if they contain numbers—7-Eleven, Super 8 hotels, 7UP.

Heights

__ Heights can be written in a variety of ways.

He was six feet two inches tall.

He was six feet two.

He was six foot two.

He was six two.

He was six-two. (a recommendation from some sources, although not one I’d make)

Money

__ Do not hyphenate dollar amounts except for the numbers between twenty-one and ninety-nine that require them. Don’t use a hyphen between the number and the word dollars (except as noted below). Note the absence of commas.

two dollars

twenty-two dollars

two hundred dollars

two hundred twenty-two dollars or two hundred and twenty-two dollars

two thousand two hundred and two dollars

But—

a two-dollar bill

a twenty-dollar fine

a two-hundred-dollar fine

a two-hundred-and-twenty-two-dollar fine

Punctuation

__ No commas or hyphens between hours and minutes, feet and inches, pounds and ounces, and dollars and cents that are spelled out. If the meaning is unclear, rewrite.

Ben promised to be there at four thirty, but it was six twenty when he pulled into the driveway.

At seven feet three inches, he was the shortest of the Marchesa giants.

The piece of salmon weighed one pound eleven ounces, but they charged the rude customer the price for three pounds.

He owed his boss forty-two fifty.

He owed his boss forty-two dollars and fifty cents.

__ Use hyphens for compound adjectives containing numbers the same way other compound are created. They are almost always hyphenated as an adjective before the noun. Age terms, both nouns and adjectives used before nouns, are hyphenated. (Noun forms of compound words paired with the word old are hyphenated, as are adjectives paired with old that are placed before nouns.)

A two-inch hole in the street became a six-by-six-foot crater.

My two-year-old loves puppies.

My son has a two-year-old puppy.

But—My puppy is two years old.

__ No hyphen between numbers and percent.

The drink was only 60 percent beer. The rest was water. Correct

The drink was 20-percent beer. Incorrect

__ For multiple hyphenated numbers sharing a noun, include a hyphen and a space after the first number and hyphenate the last as usual.

Our Johnny couldn’t wait to tell us about the ten- and twenty-foot-tall monsters in the yard.

His sister shared details about the two- and three-headed versions that lived under her bed.

__ For the words half and quarter, use the hyphen for adjectives but not for noun forms. (Some words with half are closed compounds—halfway, halfwit—so check the dictionary.)

“Join me in a quarter hour or join me in a half hour; it’s your choice.”

Join me half an hour from now.

The half-price items were poorly made.

__ For compound words made with odd, always use a hyphen.

Thirty-odd hours later, my son finally returned home.

He’d saved some 150-odd comic books.

__ For numerals greater than 1,000, include commas after every three digits from the right (for American English). For fiction, it’s likely you’ll often round off these numbers and/or write the numbers as words, but the rule is good to know.

1,000

10,525

10,525.78

953,098,099

__ For dollar amounts written as numerals, use the period to separate dollars and cents, and include the dollar sign. But you could spell out the amount, especially if you’re rounding the number.

He needed $159.75 for the bar tab.

He needed a hundred and sixty dollars for the bar tab.

You may have been advised to always write one hundred rather than a hundred, but for fiction, we want to reflect a character’s words and style.

__ Do not add a period if a.m. or p.m. comes at the end of a sentence. Do use a comma midsentence if that is necessary.

The fire alarm was pulled at 11:58 a.m.. Incorrect

The fire alarm was pulled at 11:58 a.m. Correct

The alarm was pulled at 11:58 a.m., just before lunch. Correct

Weapons and Guns

For the most part, stick with the rules governing numbers when you write about weapons. A publisher’s style guide may overrule your choices, but you’ll want consistency either way. Keep in mind your speaker’s or viewpoint character’s familiarity with weapons. One character might know every detail about a weapon while another calls every weapon a gun.

Use only the necessary detail. For example, in fiction you might not often have cause to write The AH-64D Apache Longbow was the team’s first choice. Instead, you might write, The Longbow was the the team’s first choice. Yet before this moment in the story, you might have needed to list the equipment available to them, writing out the full name of several helicopters.

__ In both narrative and dialogue, if you use the name of the gun or ammo, spell it as the manufacturer does, including numerals and capital letters. Do the same for military weapons and tanks. Spell out the word caliber.

If you don’t use the full name, still capitalize brands and manufacturers. The designation mm is accepted in narrative.

He eyed the .357 Magnum in the loser’s shaky hand.

Anderson’s Colt .38 was under his pillow, two rooms away.

Both the Browning 9mm, his favorite, and his stacked salami sub, another favorite, were destroyed by the car crusher.

I knew she lied when she told me the M1 Abrams had been named after her father; she was much too young.

__ In dialogue, if the character is saying a variation of the name but not the name itself, you have options. Use words when doing so isn’t convoluted or cumbersome or unclear.

“Dirty Harry used a forty-four, not a three fifty-seven.”

“How would I know? Thirty aught six, thirty aught seven. What’s the difference anyway?” Deke back-whistled through his teeth. “You’ve never even picked up a rifle, have you?”

“What was it? A nine millimeter?” “A Glock 17 Compensated. New and shiny.”

Contradictory Rules

If you’ve got rules that conflict, you have a few options.

Rewrite.

Choose the option that gives clarity to the reader.

Remember that in fiction, words can almost always be substituted for numerals. When in doubt, write it out. Yeah, corny and elementary, I know. But it’s advice that’s easy to remember.

______________________

Keep in mind that characters don’t all speak or think the same way, with the same words. Let your choices reflect your characters and not only the rules. That is, sometimes the rules are less important than the way the characters express themselves.

As an example, the rules (for American English, not British English) tell us not to write years in this manner—fourteen hundred and ninety-two, with the and. But your character just may think or say a date with the and. Be true to his voice and style.

And be consistent. Create a style sheet and stick with it. Know what choice you made for your numbers in chapter six and do the same in chapter fifteen.

Fiction is different from other writing styles. We use words rather than symbols, abbreviations, and images. If you’re unsure, spell out the numbers. Put it in words.

~~~

LG’s Note: These are just conventions, not “must do’s”. I’m only posting these as guidance for myself as someone who prefers writing out numerals or anyone interested in seeing the explicit difference between the two styles - numerical and textual - laid out cleanly.

#links #tools #advice

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xerrey · 5 years ago

Photo

• Animal: dog - pies, cat - kot, fish - ryba, bird - ptak, cow - krowa, pig - świnia, mouse - mysz, horse - koń, animal - zwierzę

• Transportation: train - pociąg, plane - samolot, car - samochód, truck - ciężarówka, bicycle - rower, bus - autobus, boat - łódź, łódka, ship - statek, tire - opona, gasoline - benzyna, engine - silnik, ticket - bilet, transportation - transport, tram/streetcar - tramwaj

• Location: city - miasto, house - dom, apartment - apartament, flat - mieszkanie, street/road - ulica, airport - lotnisko, train station - stacja kolejowa, bridge - most, hotel - hotel, restaurant - restauracja, farm - farma, court, school - szkoła, office - biuro, room - pokój, town - miasteczko, university - uniwersytet, club - klub, bar - bar, park - park, camp - obóz, store/shop - sklep, theater - teatr, library - biblioteka, hospital - szpital, church - kościół, market - supermarket, country (USA, France, etc.) - państwo, building - budynek, ground - ziemia, space (outer space) - przestrzeń kosmiczna, kosmos, bank - bank, location - położenie, police - policja, army - armia

• Clothing: hat - czapka, dress - sukienka, suit - garnitur, skirt - spódnica, shirt - koszula, T-shirt - t-shirt, koszulka, pants - majtki, trousers - spodnie, shoes - buty, pocket - kieszeń, coat - płaszcz, stain - plama, clothing - ubrania

• Color: red - czerwony/czerwona, green - zielony/zielona, blue - niebieski/niebieska, yellow - żółty/żółta, brown - brązowy/brązowa, pink - różowy/różowa, orange - pomarańczowy/pomarańczowa, black - czarny/czarna, white - biały/biała, gray - szary.szara, color - kolor

• People: son - syn, daughter - córka, mother - matka, father - ojciec, parent (= mother/father) - rodzic, baby - niemowlę, man - mężczyzna, woman - kobieta, brother - brat, sister - siostra, family - rodzina, grandfather - dziadek, grandmother - babcia, husband - mąż, wife - żona, king - król, queen - królowa, president - prezydent, neighbor - sąsiad/sąsiadka, boy - chłopiec/chłopak, girl - dziewczynka/dziewczyna, child (= boy/girl) - dziecko, adult (= man/woman) - dorosły, human (≠ animal) - człowiek, friend - przyjaciel/przyjaciółka, victim - ofiara, player - zawodnik/zawodniczka, fan - fan/fanka, crowd - tłum, person - osoba

• Job: Teacher - nauczyciel/nauczycielka, student - uczeń/uczennica, lawyer - prawnik/prawniczka, doctor - lekarz/lekarka, patient - pacjent/pacjentka, waiter - kelner/kelnerka, secretary - sekretarz/sekretarka, priest - ksiądz, policeman/policewoman - policjant/policjantka, soldier - żółnierz/żółnierka, artist - artysta/artystka, author - pisarz/pisarka, manager - menadżer/menadżerka, reporter - reporter/reporterka, actor - aktor/aktorka, job - praca

• Society: religion - religia, heaven - niebo, hell - piekło, death - śmierć, medicine - medycyna, money - pieniądze, bill - rachunek, marriage - małżeństwo, wedding - ślub, team - zespół, race (ethnicity) - rasa (etniczność), sex (the act) - seks, sex (gender) - płeć, murder - morderstwo, prison - więzienie, technology - technologia, energy - energia, war - wojna, peace - pokój, attack - atak, napaść, election - wybory, magazine - magazyn, newspaper - gazeta, poison - trucizna, gun - broń, sport - sport, race (sport) - wyscig, exercise - ćwiczenia, ball - piłka, game - gra, mecz, price - cena, contract - umowa/kontrakt, drug - lekarstwo, narkotyk, sign - znak, science - nauka,

• Art: band - zespół, song - piosenka, instrument (musical) - instrument, music - muzyka, movie - film, art - sztuka

• Beverages: coffee - kawa, tea - herbata, wine - wino, beer - piwo, juice - sok, water - woda, milk - mleko, beverage - napój

• Food: egg - jajko, cheese - ser, bread - chleb, soup - zupa, cake - ciasto, chicken - kurczak, pork - wieprzowina, beef - wołowina, apple - jabłko, banana - banan, orange - pomarańcz, lemon - cytryna, corn - kukurydza, rice - ryż, oil - olej, seed - ziarno, knife - nóż, spoon - łyżka, fork - widelec, plate - talerz, cup - filiżanka, mug - kubek, breakfast - śniadanie, lunch - lunch, dinner - kolacja, sugar - cukier, salt - sól, bottle - butelka, food - jedzenie

• Home: table - stół, chair - krzesło, bed - łóżko, dream - marzenie, window - okno, door - drzwi, bedroom - sypialnia, kitchen - kuchnia, bathroom - łazienka, pencil - ołówek, pen - długopis, photograph - zdjęcie/fotografia, soap - mydło, book - książka, page - strona, key - klucz, paint - farba, letter - list, note - notatka, wall - ściana, paper - papier, floor - podłoga, ceiling - sufit, roof - dach, pool - basen, lock - zamek, telephone - telefon, garden - ogród, needle - igła, bag - torba, box - pudełko, gift - prezent, card - karta, ring - pierścionek, tool - narzędzie

• Electronics: clock - zegar, lamp - lampa, fan - wentylator, cell phone - telefon komórkowy, komórka, network - sieć, computer - komputer, program (computer) - program komputerowy, laptop - laptop, screen - ekran, camera - aparat fotograficzny, kamera, television - telewizja, radio - radio, tablet - tablet

• Body: head - głowa, neck - szyja, face - twarz, beard - broda, hair - włosy, eye - oko, mouth - usta, lip - warga, nose - nos, tooth - ząb, ear - ucho, tear (drop) - łza, tongue - język, back - plecak, toe - palec, finger - palec, foot - stopa, hand - ręka, leg - noga, arm - ramię, shoulder - bark, heart - serce, blood - krew, brain - mózg, knee - kolano, sweat - pot, disease - choroba, bone - kość, voice - głos, skin - skóra, body - ciało, wrist - nadgarstek

• Nature: sea - morze, ocean - ocean, river - rzeka, mountain - góra, rain - deszcz, snow - śnieg, tree - drzewo, sun - słońce, moon - księżyc, world - świat, Earth - Ziemia, forest - las, sky - niebo, plant - roślina, wind - wiatr, soil/earth - gleba/ziemia, flower - kwiat, valley - dolina, root - korzeń, lake - jezioro, star - gwiazda, grass - trawa, leaf - liść, air - powietrze, sand - piasek, beach - plaża, wave - fala, fire - ogień, ice - lód, island - wyspa, hill - wzgórze, heat - ciepło, nature - natura

• Materials: glass - szkło, metal - metal, plastic - plastik, wood - drewno, stone - kamień, diamond - diament, clay - glina, dust - kurz, gold - złoto, copper - miedź, silver - srebro, material - materiał

• Math/Measurements: meter - metr, centimeter - centrymetr, kilogram - kilogram, inch - cal, foot - stopa, pound - funt, half - pół, circle - koło, square - kwadrat, temperature - temperatura, weight - waga, edge - próg, corner - kąt

• Misc Nouns: map - mapa, dot - kropka, consonant - spółgłoska, vowel - samogłoska, light - światło, sound - dźwięk, yes - tak, no - nie, piece - kawałek, pain - bół, injury - rana, hole - dziura, image - obraz, pattern - schemat/wzór, noun - rzeczownik, verb - czasownik, adjective - przymiotnik

• Directions: top - góra, bottom - dół, side - bok/strona, front - przód, back - tył, outside na zewnątrz, inside wewnątrz, up - w góre, down - w dół, left - lewa/lewy, right - prawa/prawy, straight - na wprost, north - północ, south - południe, east - wschód, west - zachód, direction - kierunek

• Seasons: Summer - lato, Spring - wiosna, Winter - ziemia, Fall - jesień, season - pora roku

• Numbers: 0 - zero, 1 - jeden, 2 - dwa, 3 - trzy, 4 - cztery, 5 - pięć, 6 - sześć, 7 - siedem, 8 - osiem, 9 - dziewięć, 10 - dziesięć, 11 - jedenaście, 12 - dwanaście, 13 - trzynaście, 14 - czternaście, 15 - piętnaście, 16 - szesnaście, 17 - siedemnaście, 18 - osiemnaście, 19 - dziewiętnaście, 20 - dwadzieścia, 21 - dwadzieścia jeden, 22 - dwadzieścia dwa, 30 - trzydzieści, 31 - trzydzieści jeden , 32 trzydzieści dwa, 40 - czterdzieści, 41 - czterdzieści jeden, 42 - czterdzieści dwa, 50 - pięćdziesiąt, 51 - pięćdziesiąt jeden, 52 pięćdziesiąt dwa, 60 sześćdziesiąt, 61 - sześćdziesiąt jeden, 62 - sześćdziesiąt dwa, 70 - siedemdziesiąt, 71 - siedemdziesiąt jeden, 72 - siedemdziesiąt dwa, 80 osiemdziesiąt, 81 - osiemdziesiąt jeden, 82 - osiemdziesiąt dwa, 90 - dziewięćdziesiąt, 91 - dziewięćdziesiąt jeden, 92 - dziewięćdziesiąt dwa, 100 - sto, 101 - sto jeden,, 102 sto dwa, 110 sto dziesięć, 111 sto jedenaście, 1000 - tysiąc, 1001 tysiąc jeden, 10000 - dziesięć tysięcy, 100000 - sto tysięcy, million - milion, billion - miliard, 1st,- pierwszy 2nd,- drugi 3rd,trzeci 4th,czwarty 5th,- piąty number - numer

• Months: January - Styczeń, February - Luty, March - Marzec, April - Kwiecień, May - Maj, June - Czerwiec, July - Lipiec, August - Sierpień, September - Wrzesień, October - Październik, November - Listopad, December - Grudzień

• Days of the week: Monday - Poniedziałek, Tuesday - Wtorek, Wednesday - Środa, Thursday - Czwartek, Friday - Piątek, Saturday - Sobota, Sunday - Niedziela, week - tydzień,

• Time: year - rok, month - miesiąc, week - tydzień, day - dzień, hour - godzina, minute - minuta, second - sekunda , morning - poranek/rano, afternoon - popołudnie, evening - wieczór, night - noc, time - czas, midnight - północ, midday - południe

• Verbs: work - pracować, play - grać, walk - spacerować/chodzić, run - biegać, drive - jechać (samochodem), fly - latać, swim - pływać, go - iść, stop - zatrzymywać, follow - śledzić, podążać za kimś/za czymś, think - myśleć, speak - mówić, say - powiedzieć, eat - jeść, drink - pić, kill - zabić, die - umierać, smile - uśmiechać się, laugh - śmiać się, cry - płakać, buy - kupować, pay - płacić, sell - sprzedawać, shoot(a gun) - strzelać (z pistoletu), learn - uczyć się, jump - skakać, smell - wąhać, hear (a sound) - słyszeć, listen (music) - słuchać, taste - próbować/smakować, touch - dotykać, see (a bird) - widzieć, watch (TV) - oglądać, kiss - całować, burn - palić, melt - roztapiać, dig - kopać, explode - wybuchnąć/eksplodować, sit - siedzieć, stand - stać, love - kochać, pass by - mijać, cut - ciąć, fight - bić się/walczyć, lie down - leżeć, dance - tańczyć, sleep - spać, wake up - budzić się, sing - śpiewać, count - liczyć, marry - żenić się/wychodzić za mąż/brać ślub, pray - modlić się, win - wygrywać/wygrać, lose - przegrywać/przegrać, mix/stir - mieszać, bend - schylać się/schylić się, wash - myć, cook - gotować, open - otwierać, close - zamykać, write - pisać, call - dzwonić, turn - obrócić/obracać się, build - budować, teach - uczyć, nauczać, grow - rosnąć, draw - rysować, feed - karmić, catch - łapać/złapać, throw - rzucać/rzucić, clean - czyścić, find - znajdować, fall - upadać, push - pchać/popychać, pull - ciągnąć, carry - nieść, break - zbić/rozbijać, wear - ubierać, hang - wisieć, shake - potrząsać/wstrząsać, sign - podpisywać, beat - bić, lift - podnosić,

• Adjectives: long - długi/długa/długie, short (vs long) - krótki/krótka/krótkie, tall - wysoki/wysoka/wysokie, short (vs tall) - niski/niska/niskie, wide - szeroki/szeroka/szerokie, narrow - wąski/wąska/wąskie, big/large - duży/duża/duże, small/little - mały/mała/małe, slow - wolny/wolna/wolne, fast - szybki/szybka/szybkie, hot - gorący/gorąca/gorące, cold - zimny/zimna/zimne, warm - ciepły/ciepła/ciepłe, cool - fajny/fajna/fajne, new - nowy/nowa/nowe, old (new) - stary/stara/stare, young - młody/młoda/młode, old (young) - stary/stara/stare, good - dobry/dobra/dobre, bad - zły/zła/złe, wet - mokry/mokra/mokre, dry - suchy/sucha/suche, sick - chory/chora/chore, healthy - zdrowy/zdrowa/zdrowe, loud - głośny/głośna/głośne, quiet - cichy/cicha/ciche, happy - szczęśliwy/szczęśliwa/szczęśliwe, sad - smutny/smutna/smutne, beautiful - piękny/piękna/piękne, ugly - brzydki/brzydka/brzydkie, deaf - głuchy/głucha/głuche, blind - ślepy/ślepa/ślepe, nice - miły/miła/miłe, mean - wredny/wredna/wredne, rich - bogaty/bogata/bogate, poor - biedny/biedna/biedne, thick - gruby/gruba/grube, thin - chudy/chuda/chude, expensive - drogi/droga/drogie, cheap - tani/tania/tanie, flat - płaski/płaska/płaskie, curved - krzywy/krzywa/krzywe, male - męski/męska/męskie, female - damski/damska/damskie, tight ciasny/ciasna/ciasne or obcisły/obcisła/obcisłe, loose - luźny/luźna/luźni, high - wysoki/wysoka/wysokie, low - niski/niska/niskie, soft - miękki/miękka/miękkie or delikatny/delikatna/delikatne, hard - twardy/twarda/twarde or trudny/trudna/trudne, deep - głęboki/głęboka/głębokie, shallow - płytki/płytka/płytkie, clean - czysty/czysta/czyste, dirty - brudny/brudna/brudne, strong - silny/silna/silne, weak - słaby/słaba/słabe, dead - martwy/martwa/martwe, alive - żywy/żywa/żywe, heavy - ciężki/ciężka/ciężkie, light (vs heavy) - lekki/lekka/lekkie, dark - ciemny/ciemna/ciemne, light (dark) - jasny/jasna/jasne, famous - sławny/sławna/sławne

• Pronouns: I - ja, you (singular) - ty, he - on, she - ona, it - ono/to, we - my, you (plural, as in “y’all”) - wy, they. - oni, one

#langblr #langblrgang #polish #vocabulary list #vocab list #common words #languageambassadorproject #polishjune

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streetcars101magazine · 8 days ago

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NOAH ALEXANDER CROWNED BATTLE OF THE BUILDERS CHAMPION

Noah Alexander and the team at Classic Car Studio in St. Louis, Mo., won the SEMA Battle of the Builders Presented by Mothers competition at the 2024 SEMA Show with their '68 Dodge Charger.

Noah Alexander and the team at Classic Car Studio in St. Louis, Mo., won the SEMA Battle of the Builders Presented by Mothers competition at the 2024 SEMA Show with their ’68 Dodge Charger. The second decade of the SEMA Battle of the Builders Presented by Mothers, the aftermarket industry’s ultimate vehicle competition, got underway with Noah Alexander winning the contest with his ’68 Dodge…

#BATTLE OF THE BUILDERS CHAMPION #Images by Stone Photography #Las Vegas #Nevada #NOAH ALEXANDER #SEMA #SEMA Cars #SEMA Fest #SEMA Fest 2024 #Street Cars 101 Magazine

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fluentlee · 6 years ago

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625 words in korean

These are the 625 words to know in your target language in Korean. I excluded honorific/formal words, which you can find in my last post. Please feel free to correct me if there are any mistakes as I’m not a native speaker ^_^

A D J E C T I V E S || 형 용 사 to be long // 길다 to be short (vs. long) // 짧다 to be tall // 키가 크다 to be short (vs. tall) // 키가 작다 to be wide // 넓다 to be narrow // 좁다 to be big/large // 크다 to be small/little // 작다 to be slow // 느리다 to be fast // 빠르다 to be hot // 덥다; 뜨겁다 to be cold // 춥다; 차갑다 to be warm // 따뜻하다 to be cool // 시원하다 to be new // 새롭다 to be old (vs. new) // 오래되다 to be young // 젊다 to be old (vs. young) // 늙다 to be good // 좋다 to be bad // 나쁘다 to be wet // 축축하다 to be dry // 마르다 to be sick // 아프다 to be healthy // 건강하다 to be loud // 시끄럽다 to be quiet // 조용하다 to be happy // 행복하다 to be sad // 슬프다 to be beautiful // 아름답다 to be ugly // 못생겼다 to be deaf // 귀먹다 to be blind // 눈이 멀다 to be nice // 착하다 to be mean // 못되다 to be rich // 부유하다 to be poor // 가난하다 to be thick // 두껍다 to be thin // 얇다 to be expensive // 비싸다 to be cheap // 싸다 to be flat // 평평하다 to be curved // 둥글다 male // 남성 female // 여성 to be tight // 팽팽하다 to be loose // 헐겁다 to be high // 높다 to be low // 낮다 to be soft // 부드럽다 to be hard // 딱딱하다; 단단하다 to be deep // 깊다 to be shallow // 얕다 to be clean // 깨끗하다 to dirty // 더럽다 to be strong // 강하다 to be weak // 약하다 to be alive // 살아있다 to be heavy // 무겁다 to be light (vs. heavy) // 가볍다 to be dark // 어둡다 to be light (vs. dark) // 밝다 to be nuclear // 핵이다 to be famous // 유명하다

A N I M A L S || 동 물 dog // 개 cat // 고양이 fish // 물고기 bird // 새 cow // 소 pig // 돼지 mouse // 쥐 horse // 말 wing // 날개 animal // 동물

A R T || 예 술 band // 악단; 밴드 song // 노래 (musical) instrument // 악기 music // 음악 movie // 영화 art // 예술; 미술

B E V E R A G E S || 음 료 coffee // 커피 tea // 차 wine // 와인; 포도주 beer // 맥주 juice // ��스 water // 물 milk // 우유 beverage // 음료

B O D Y || 몸 head // 머리 neck // 목 face // 얼굴 beard // 수염 hair // 머리카락 eye // 눈 mouth // 입 lip // 입술 nose // 코 tooth // 이; 치아 ear // 귀 tear (drop) // 눈물 tongue // 혀 back // 등 toe // 발가락 finger // 손가락 foot // 발 hand // 손 leg // 다리 arm // 팔 shoulder // 어깨 heart // 심장 blood // 피 brain // 뇌 knee // 무릎 sweat // 땀 disease // 질병 bone // 뼈 voice // 목소리 skin // 피부 body // 몸

C L O T H I N G || 옷 hat // 모자 dress // 원피스; 드레스 suit // 양복 skirt // 치마 shirt // 셔츠 t-shirt // 티셔츠 pants // 바지 shoes // 신발 pocket // 주머니 coat // 코트 stain // 얼룩 clothing // 옷

C O L O R S || 색 깔 red // 빨간(색) green // 초록색 blue // 파란(색) yellow // 노란(색) brown // 갈색 pink // 분홍색; 핑크색 orange // 주황색 black // 검은(색) white // 하얀(색); 흰색 gray // 회색 color // 색깔

D A Y S O F T H E W E E K || 요 일 monday // 월요일 tuesday // 화요일 wednesday // 수요일 thursday // 목요일 friday // 금요일 saturday // 토요일 sunday // 일요일

D I R E C T I O N S || 방 향 top // 위 bottom // 밑 side // 옆 front // 앞 back // 뒤 outside // 밖 inside // 안 up // 위 down // 아래 left // 왼쪽 right // 오른쪽 straight // 직진 north // 북쪽 south // 남쪽 east // 동쪽 west // 서쪽 direction // 방향

E L E C T R O N I C S || 전 자 제 품 clock // 시계 lamp // 전등 fan // 선풍기 cell phone // 휴대폰; 핸드폰 network // 네트워크 computer // 컴퓨터 (computer) program // 컴퓨터 프로그램 laptop // 노트북 screen // 컴퓨터 화면 camera // 카메라 television // 텔레비전; 티비 radio // 라디오

F O O D S || 음 식 egg // 달걀; 계란 cheese // 치즈 bread // 빵 soup // 국; 수프 cake // 케이크 chicken // 닭고기 pork // 돼지고기 beef // 소고기 apple // 사과 banana // 바나나 orange // 오렌지 lemon // 레몬 corn // 옥수수 rice // 쌀; 밥 oil // 기름 seed // 씨 knife // 칼 spoon // 숟가락 fork // 포크 plate // 접시 cup // 컵 breakfast // 아침 lunch // 점심 dinner // 저녁 sugar // 설탕 salt // 소금 bottle // 병 food // 음식

H O M E || 집 table // 식탁; 탁자 chair // 의자 bed // 침대 dream // 꿈 window // 창문 door // 문 bedroom // 침실 kitchen // 부엌; 주방 bathroom // 욕실; 화장실 pencil // 연필 pen // 펜 photograph // 사진 soap // 비누 book // 책 page // 페이지 key // 열쇠 paint // 물감 letter // 편지 note // 메모 wall // 벽 paper // 종이 floor // 바닥 ceiling // 천장 roof // 지붕 pool // 수영장 lock // 자물쇠 telephone // 전화 garden // 정원 yard // 마당 needle // 바늘 bag // 가방 box // 상자 gift // 선물 card // 카드 ring // 반지 tool // 도구

J O B S || 직 업 teacher // 선생님 student // 학생 lawyer // 변호사 doctor // 의사 patient // 환자 waiter // 웨이터; 종업원 secretary // 비서 priest // 성직자; 사제 police // 경찰 army // 군대 soldier // 군인 artist // 화가 author // 작가 manager // 부장님 reporter // 기자 actor // 배우 job // 직업

L O C A T I O N S || 위 치 city // 도시 house // 집 apartment // 아파트 street/road // 길; 거리 airport // 공항 train station // 기차역 bridge // 다리 hotel // 호텔 restaurant // 식당; 레스토랑 farm // 농장 court // 법원 school // 학교 office // 사무실 room // 방 town // 마을 university // 대학교 club // 클럽 bar // 술집; 바 park // 공원 camp // 야영지 store/shop // 가게 theatre // 극장; 영화관 library // 도서관 hospital // 병원 church // 교회 market // 시장 country (usa, france, etc.) // 국가; 나라 building // 건물 ground // 땅 (outer) space // 우주 공간 bank // 은행 location // 위치

M A T E R I A L S || 재 료 glass // 유리 metal // 금속 plastic // 플라스틱 wood // 나무 stone // 돌 diamond // 다이아몬드 clay // 점토 dust // 먼지 gold // 금 copper // 구리 silver // 은 material // 재료

M A T H / M E A S U R E M E N T S || 수 학 / 측 정 meter // 미터 centimeter // 센티미터 kilogram // 킬로그램 inch // 인치 foot // 풋 pound // 파운드 half // 반 circle // 원형 square // 정사각형 temperature // 온도 date // 날짜 weight // 중량 edge // 가장자리 corner // 모퉁이

M I S C E L L A N E O U S || 잡 동 사 니 map // 지도 dot // 점 consonant // 자음 vowel // 모음 light // 빛 sound // 소리 yes // 네 no // 아니요 piece // 조각 pain // 아픔; 통증 injury // 부상 hole // 구멍 image // 이미지 pattern // 양식; 패턴 noun // 명사 verb // 동사 adjective // 형용사

M O N T H S || 달 january // 1월 (일월) february // 2월 (이월) march // 3월 (삼월) april // 4월 (사월) may // 5월 (오월) june // 6월 (유월) july // 7월 (칠월) august // 8월 (팔월) september // 9월 (구월) october // 10월 (시월) november // 11월 (십일월) december // 12월 (십이월)

N A T U R E || 자 연 sea // 바다 ocean // 대양 river // 강 mountain // 산 rain // 비 snow // 눈 tree // 나무 sun // 태양 moon // 달 world // 세계 the earth // 지구 forest // 숲 sky // 하늘 plant // 식물 wind // 바람 soil/earth // 흙 flower // 꽃 valley // 계곡 root // 뿌리 lake // 호수 star // 별 grass // 풀 leaf // 잎 air // 공기 sand // 모래 beach // 해변 wave // 파도 fire // 불 ice // 얼음 island // 섬 hill // 언덕 heat // 열 nature // 자연

N U M B E R S || 숫 자 0 // 공; 영 1 // 하나; 일 2 // 둘; 이 3 // 셋; 삼 4 // 넷; 사 5 // 다섯; 오 6 // 여섯; 육 7 // 일곱; 칠 8 // 여덟; 팔 9 // 아홉; 구 10 // 열; 십 11 // 열하나; 십일 12 // 열둘; 십이 13 // 열셋; 십삼 14 // 열넷; 십사 15 // 열다섯; 십오 16 // 열여섯; 십육 17 // 열일곱; 십칠 18 // 열여덟; 십팔 19 // 열아홉; 십구 20 // 스물; 이십 21 // 스물하나; 이십일 22 // 스물둘; 이십이 30 // 서른; 삼십 31 // 서른하나; 삼십일서른 32 // 서른둘; 삼십이 40 // 마흔; 사십 41 // 마흔하나; 사십일 42 // 마흔둘; 사십이 50 // 쉰; 오십 51 // 쉰하나; 오십일 52 // 쉰둘; 오십이 60 // 예순; 육십 61 // 예순하나; 육십일 62 // 예순둘; 육십이 70 // 일흔; 칠십 71 // 일흔하나; 칠십일 72 // 일흔둘; 칠십이 80 // 여든; 팔십 81 // 여든하나; 팔십일 82 // 여든둘; 팔십이 90 // 아흔; 구십 91 // 아흔하나; 구십일 92 // 아흔둘; 구십이 100 // 백 101 // 백일 102 // 백이 110 // 백십 111 // 백십일 1000 // 천 1001 // 천일 10000 // 만 100000 // 십만 1 million // 백만 1 billion // 십억 1st // 첫 번째 2nd // 두 번째 3rd // 세 번째 4th // 네 번째 5th // 다섯 번째 number // 숫자; 수사

P E O P L E || 사 람 들 son // 아들 daughter // 딸 mother // 어머니 father // 아버지 parent // 부모 baby // 아기; 애기 man // 남자 woman // 여자 brother // 오빠; 형; 남동생 sister // 언니; 누나; 여동생 family // 가족 grandfather // 할아버지 grandmother // 할머니 husband // 남편 wife // 아내; 와이프 king // 왕 queen // 여왕; 왕비 president // 대통령 neighbor // 이웃 boy // 소년 girl // 소녀 child // 아이; 어린이; 애 adult // 성인 human // 인간 friend // 친구 victim // 피해자 player // 선수 fan // 팬 crowd // 군중 person // 사람

P R O N O U N S || 대 명 사 I // 저; 나 you (singular) // 당신; 자네; 너 he // 그 she // 그녀 it // 그것 we // 저희; 우리 you (plural) // 당신들; 너희들; 여러분 they // 그들

S E A S O N S || 계 절 summer // 여름 spring // 봄 winter // 겨울 fall/autumn // 가을 season // 계절

S O C I E T Y || 사 회 religion // 종교 heaven // 천국 hell // 지옥 death // 죽음 medicine // 약 money // 돈 dollar // 달러 bill // 계산서 marriage // 결혼 wedding // 결혼식 team // 팀 race (ethnicity) // 민족 sex (the act) // 섹스; 성교 sex (gender) // 성별 murder // 살인 prison // 감옥 technology // 기술 energy // 에너지; 정력 war // 전쟁 peace // 평화 attack // 공격 election // 선거 magazine // 잡지 newspaper // 신문 poison // 독 gun // 총 sport // 스포츠 race (sport) // 경주 exercise // 운동 ball // 공 game // 게임; 경기 price // 가격; 값 contract // 계약서 drug // 마약 sign // 신호 science // 과학 God // 하나님; 하느님; 신

T I M E || 시 간 year // 해 month // 달 week // 주 day // 하루; 날 hour // 시간 minute // 분 second // 초 morning // 아침 afternoon // 오후 evening // 저녁 night // 밤 time // 시간

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N || 교 통 수 단 train // 기차 plane // 비행기 car // (자동)차 truck // 트럭 bicycle // 자전거 bus // 버스 boat // 배 ship // 배 tire // 타이어 gasoline // 휘발유 engine // 엔진 (train) ticket // 표 transportation // 교통수단

V E R B S || 동 사 to work // 일하다 to play // 놀다 to run // 뛰다; 달리다 to drive // 운전하다 to fly // 날다 to swim // 수영하다 to go // 가다 to stop // 멈추다; 그만하다 to follow // 따르다 to think // 생각하다 to speak/say // 말하다 to eat // 먹다 to drink // 마시다 to kill // 죽이다 to die // 죽다 to smile // 웃다 to laugh // 웃다 to cry // 울다 to buy // 사다 to pay // 내다; 결제하다 to sell // 팔다 to shoot (a gun) // 쏘다 to learn // 배우다 to jump // 뛰다 to smell // 냄새를 맡다 to hear (a sound) // 듣다 to listen (to music) // 듣다 to taste // 맛보다 to touch // 만지다 to see (a bird) // 보다 to watch (tv) // 보다 to kiss // 뽀뽀하다; 키스하다 to burn // 타다 to melt // 녹다 to dig // 파다 to explode // 폭발하다 to sit // 앉다 to stand // 서다 to love // 사랑하다 to pass by // 지나가다 to cut // 자르다 to fight // 싸우다 to lie down // 눕다 to dance // 춤을 추다 to sleep // 자다 to wake up // 일어나다 to sing // 노래하다 to count // 세다 to marry // 결혼하다 to pray // 기도하다 to win // 이기다 to lose // 지다; 잃어버리다 to mix/stir // 섞다; 젓다 to bend // 구부리다 to wash // 씻다 to cook // 요리하다 to open // 열다 to close // 닫다 to write // 쓰다; 적다 to call // 부르다; 전화하다 to turn // 돌리다 to build // 짓다 to teach // 가르치다 to grow // 자라다 to draw // 그리다 to feed // 먹이다 to catch // 잡다 to throw // 던지다 to clean // 청소하다 to find // 찾다 to fall // 떨어지다 to push // 밀다 to pull // 당기다 to carry // 나르다 to break // 부서지다; 깨다 to wear // 입다; 신다; 쓰다; 매다; 끼다; 차다 to hang // 걸다; 매달다 to shake // 흔들다 to sign // 서명하다; 사인하다 to beat // 치다 to lift // 올리다

practice on quizlet

#korean vocabulary #korean language #korean #language #korean langblr #langblr #studyblr #625 words to know in your target language #korean vocab #vocabulary #vocab #한국어 배우기 #한국어 공부 #한국어 #한국

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sockablock · 6 years ago

Text

Something New for Me and You

• (start) (AO3) (prev) (next) •

Ch. 4: Vanilla, Cream, and Chocolate Shavings

Caleb opened his eyes, and rolled over in bed, and waited for his brain to catch up and tell him what time it was. When the tired answer of “7AM” finally crept through the fog of exhaustion, he sighed to himself, slipped off his covers, and trudged into the bathroom. It was only as he just finished brushing his teeth over the chipped sink in front of the water-stained mirror did he remember that he did not have work today.

Or, rather, that he should have had work today.

He spat out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. He silently watched the suds swirl down the drain. He continued to stare long after the basin had dried. Then he put his toothbrush back on the ledge next to the green, untouched and very dusty child’s toothbrush that always rested there, and walked back to his bed.

He laid down and stared at the ceiling.

After about an hour, he shot up and marched out into the kitchen.

•

Around this time, Yasha awoke. The sound of pedestrians out on the street and the rush of cars passing by welcomed her brightly, as it did every morning. She rubbed at her eyes, yawned, and stretched.

•

“What’s all this for?” Not asked as she climbed onto the dinner table with a strip of jerky in her hands.

Caleb looked up from the massive pile of newspapers spread out before him, and gently tugged free a page that Nott had taken a seat on. Then he gestured at the nearest advert, which read:

Waiter Wanted—apply at the Meal Hearth, front counter.

“I’m job-hunting,” Caleb sighed. “We need a steadier stream of income than three days at a library and whatever you can steal.”

Nott raised an eyebrow. “Do you even know how to be a waiter?” she asked.

“Well, no,” he admitted, “but I suppose I will have to learn.”

“Maybe I could find a job too?” she suggested. “That way you wouldn’t be the only one caught in the cogs of our terrible capitalist society. And anyways, isn’t it good for you to have some free time?”

Caleb blinked a few times as he tried to process that statement. Then he sighed and said, “As nice as that would be, I do not think it is possible. You aren’t exactly…what, er, what most employers are looking for.”

“That’s true,” Nott agreed, and chewed a bite of jerky. “I’m also not technically a citizen, so that could make things complicated, right?”

“Right. Maybe you should just focus on just having sticky fingers for now. And speaking of sticky fingers, it is time to head out to Oglen’s soon, ja?”

Nott shook her head and waved the jerky in front of his face. “Actually,” she said, “I should head out to Oglen’s soon. You should be getting ready for your date.”

Caleb blinked. “My date? I don’t have a…oh. You mean coffee with Mollymauk?”

Nott pulled out her phone and beamed. “That’s the one,” she said. “He wants to meet up at ten, which is in…two hours. This is the address,” she added, flipping the screen around. “You’ll remember it, right?”

“Ja, of course,” Caleb said, though now suddenly overwhelmed. “But I do not understand why I would need two hours to get ready. Especially for a casual meet-up between acquaintances.”

Nott sighed. “The first time you met each other, it was at a crazy-fancy restaurant and you were in a dinner jacket that Jester custom-ordered for you. He’s going to have expectations.”

“But he was here for movies just two nights ago,” Caleb protested. “I was not dressed so nicely then.”

“That’s different,” Nott said, shaking her head. “There were a bunch of people around then, so it doesn’t matter so much. But when it’s just the two of you, the stakes are higher. You’ve got to be presentable. Come on, Caleb, even I know this, and I’m a goblin.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, sorry,” he sighed. “It has been a while since I’ve needed to bother with this sort of thing. Are you sure this level of effort is required for when two people who barely know each other go to a café?”

“I wouldn’t say he barely knows you,” Nott said, “but yes. It’s even more important if you aren’t familiar, because his impression of you isn’t finished yet. I know these things.”

“Yes, and how do you know these things?”

She shrugged. “Jester let me borrow her magazines.”

“…what are these magazines called?”

“Iva’s Secrets. They’re by some lady who runs a bookstore for ‘young wimmen’ and ‘lonely gents,’ according to the back page.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed and rubbed his temples. “I am not sure you should be reading these, but I suppose I am not one to stop you from pursuing the written word—”

“—damn straight.”

“—so I will just shut up and…and…prepare for this casual meet-up, then.”

“Great!” Nott grinned and slid off the table. Then she passed Caleb her phone and added, “Here. I’ll leave this with you in case you need to call Molly while I’m gone. Oh, I’m so excited to see what’s in the store today. There are so many shiny trinkets and flashy baubles, and Oglen doesn’t even notice when I take stuff from him to re-sell.”

•

“I’m just saying,” Beau said as she slowly lowered the last of the kettlebells. “You’re going to need a lot of pantry space. Jester eats like…well, like a demon. Or a teenage boy.”

Fjord wiped a towel across his brow. “But pastries don’t even last that long,” he said. “And it’s not like you’re supposed to put them into a cupboard, right?”

Beau shook her head. “The point is that she’s going to try to. And when she realizes that they went stale, like they always do, then she’s going to buy sugary snacks and candy to make up for it. And if you aren’t prepared, it’ll be heaps and heaps of bags everywhere, and you’ll go crazy. Believe me, I’ve been her roommate for like…three years now.”

“And I always commend you for that sacrifice, Beau.”

“Thanks.” She tossed him a water bottle. “Now it’s your turn.”

Fjord took a seat on the bench and sighed. “Moving in together is a real big deal, you know? I just want to make sure everything works out right.”

Beau plopped down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Fjord, relax. She’s head-over-heels for you. It’ll be fine.”

“But what if it isn’t?” he pressed. “What if she ends up hating how much I snore, or she gets sick of me kicking in bed all the time, or what if I have a million little habits that it turns out she can’t stand? I mean, sometimes I leave clothes out, and maybe I forget to put the cap back on the toothpaste, what if that bothers her but she’s too nice to tell me, and it all ends up just…festerin’ until she hates me?”

Beau shook her head. “First of all, if she doesn’t like something she’ll definitely let you know. Nothing gets held back for her, that’s Jester 101. Secondly, if you already know you do these things, then warn her! Set some fuckin’ boundaries! You two need to sit down and have a chat about this shit, right? That’s what we did on day one.”

Fjord nodded, and gave her a weak smile. “Thanks, Beau. That’s…pretty smart.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I’m an educated motherfucker, alright? Even if I ran away from school, I still know some shit.”

“I don’t really think they teach you that stuff in sch—”

Beau waved a hand dismissively. “You know what I mean. Don’t push it.”

He snorted. “Alright, alright, you got it.”

“Great. Now, it’s almost nine. Get your ass to class. If you fail, you can’t sneak me into the college gym anymore and our entire friendship will fall apart. Hop to it."

•

Mollymauk Tealeaf, standing out on the sidewalk in front of the large windows of the café, checked his phone. Then he examined his reflection the glass, adjusted his jewelry, and checked his phone again.

It was…okay to arrive this early, right? It was the proper thing to do, right? Even if was only 8:45AM and they were supposed to meet at ten, right?

After a few more moments of deliberation, he brushed off his jacket and decided to take another lap around the block. Then he’d definitely go inside and scout out the perfect place to sit.

He could also use that time to decide what to order. Yes. Good. Now he had a plan.

•

“Are you kidding me?” Nott shook her head. “That ring’s got to be worth at least forty. Do you see that? Those little flowers? That’s ornamental, that is. Sophisticated, that is.”

Oglen squinted through the lens of his spectacles. “Flowers? What, the squiggles? Eh…I’ll go thirty, but no higher than that.”

“Come on, come on, that’s genuine bronze, there! Caleb checked it, and you know how smart he is. We’re returning customers too, regulars even. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Oglen seemed to consider this for a moment, then sighed and lowered his glasses. “Alright, Nott. Thirty-five.”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Thirty-six.”

“Deal.”

He nodded, and added the ring to a growing pile of random jewelry and knick-knacks resting on the wooden countertop between them. Then he made a small note at the bottom of a slip of paper and turned back to Nott.

“Okay,” he said. “What else have you got?”

She reached into her pouch and produced a set of earrings. “Now, don’t try to sell me short again, Oglen. These have got gemstones, alright? They’ll be worth more than a pretty penny to any lady coming here to buy from you.”

The wizened old gnome pushed up his spectacles.

“Bring ‘em closer,” he said. “I’ll be the judge of that.

•

Caleb finally managed to dig out a knit cardigan from the very back of his not-so-large closet, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was old, probably from a thrift store, and unsurprisingly a shade of light brown, but all the buttons were still there and the collar wasn’t too bulky and really, it was the best he could do.

He pushed aside the wrinkled t-shirts and occasional hoodie that had swamped his bed and lay the cardigan down gently on the covers. Then he nodded to himself and walked into the bathroom.

He stared at his reflection for a few moments, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the pale tone of his face, the overall sunken nature of his features. He ran a hand through his beard, freshly-washed but rather messy and tangled, especially for its short length.

He put his forehead against the mirror. He stared into the sink. He reached a hand into his pocket, pulled out Nott’s cell, and dialed a number.

The phone rang a few times before the person on the other end picked up.

“Hello? Nott?”

“Er, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “actually, this is Caleb. How are you, Yasha?”

There was a brief pause on the end of the line.

“Caleb? Are you okay?”

He gave a nervous laugh. “No, no, nothing is the matter. I cannot just call one of my few friends for a chat? No such thing as pleasant conversation, anymore?”

“You don’t even have a phone you use, Caleb. Try again.”

He sighed.

“Yasha, you have known this group longer than I have. And you are used to dealing with many individuals from your work at the bar. I, on the other hand…I am an odd duck and this group is very large for me. I’ve only had Nott and Frumpkin for a year, you know? Then suddenly I met Jester and you and Beau, which has been wonderful, but now we are adding Molly and Fjord after barely having time to get to know the rest of you, and Beau and I have only just made up over the ‘bowl incident,’ and now today Molly and I are supposed to meet one-on-one, and…and I would like to make a good impression. I would like some advice.”

There was another, much longer pause. Yasha seemed to be trying to think of a response.

“Er, well…” she said, “...well, I mean...I am awkward too, Caleb, but...er...I suppose, if he tries to talk to you, you should respond, and, er...and you should be nice, and…and chew with your mouth closed, and wash your hands…”

And then they were both silent, for a while.

“I am confused,” Caleb said eventually. “Do you…have advice, or—”

Yasha sighed deeply. “Yes, yes, I do, I think, I am…not very good at this. Just, well, just be clean? It helps to be clean. How do you do that, anyway, stay dirty all the time?”

There was another pause.

“I did not mean that to sound so accusatory,” Yasha said quietly. “I apologize—”

“Nein, no, it is alright,” Caleb said quickly, “I got it. I just…er…well, this is a big city. And if you want to go unnoticed, the best way is to, as you said, ‘stay dirty,’ and people tend not to pay attention to you."

“I understand that,” Yasha said immediately. “I like to evade notice too, but I am…hard to miss. Not, you know, not hard to miss in the sense that, ‘woo, I am so pretty, I am so hard to miss,’ but more like…like…”

“Like you are built like a barn.”

“Exactly.”

“You know what I miss?” Caleb sighed, and pulled back to look at his reflection.

“What?”

He ran a hand through his beard. “I miss shaving. Feeling clean.”

There was another pause. Then Yasha spoke:

“I could…er…I could shave you, if you like?”

He blinked. “Was? Really? Have you…done that sort of thing before?”

“Yes, I have. Molly or Jester can tell you. Hang on, hang on, are you at home? I can be there in ten minutes.”

Caleb blinked again. “Oh, er, Yasha, it is alright, I do not think—”

The line went dead. He lowered the phone and stared at the blank screen for a few moments. Then he sighed, and went to go sink his face into a pillow.

•

“Jester,” Fjord whispered to hunched shape sitting next to him. “Jester, do you understand what Anders is goin’ on about?”

She glanced up from her notebook, covered in scribbled doodles and tiny comments in the margins. She glanced around the lecture hall, to the whiteboard, and then back at Fjord.

“Are…uh…are we still on chapter seven?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, good,” she grinned. “In that case, yes, I do know what he’s talking about.”

“Thank the gods. D’you think you could give me a hand, later on today? I’m lost.”

Jester reached over and gave him a pat on the hand. “Of course, Fjord. But really, I think maybe you should just get a tutor. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and Caleb would probably love more business, you know?”

He nodded sheepishly. “I think that’s probably a good idea. Otherwise I might have to kiss goin’ to Soltryce goodbye.”

She gave him another pat. “I can ask him for you later,” she whispered. “Now hush, I am in the middle of telling the Traveler what happened in The Courting of the Crick last night.”

•

“Yasha, is that a sword?”

“Yes? Why?”

Caleb rubbed his temples, and considered the wicked black pommel sticking out from behind Yasha’s imposing frame. The rest of the blade, wrapped in canvas, hung a foot off the ground. All in all, the weapon was probably almost as tall as its owner, which was saying something.

He sighed and waved a hand. “Come in, come in, I guess. You can put your coat on the rack, and…Yasha why do you have a sword?”

She took her boots off and hung her jacket up and followed him into the living room-area of the apartment.

“I don’t know,” she said, “for protection? You never know when you need a good sword.”

“Do…do you need a permit for that, or…?”

She shrugged. “Nobody has approached me about it so far.”

Caleb stared at her, took in her rock-hard biceps and sharp face paint and dead-eyed, cold-faced stare. She was probably a good foot-and-a-half taller than him, and twice as wide.

“I can’t imagine why,” he said. “Anyways, er…what am I supposed to do? Should I lie down?”

Yasha seemed to think about this for a moment. “Yes,” she said, “that might be best. Here, er…on the floor should work.”

He looked down at the wooden floorboards, and then watched as she casually unsheathed the sword. He quickly got down.

“Do you…always use such a large blade for these things?” he asked.

“No,” Yasha admitted. “Usually a dagger, or a razor, or something.”

“So why did you bring that?”

“It’s the only thing I have. Why, do you have a razor?”

Caleb considered this for a moment, weighing the options between having to actually go out and spend money on a pack of razors, versus putting his faith in Yasha.

He sighed. “Is this…is this going to hurt me? I know you are very strong, but is dexterity—”

“I have done this many times before,” she said. “I like having smooth arms, you know, and Molly likes having—”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. Then he opened them again and met her gaze. “I am glad we are friends,” he added quietly.

She cracked a smile at that. “I am glad also.”

“Oh. Oh, good.”

And then he closed his eyes and held his breath and steeled himself and waited.

•

“Oglen, it has been a pleasure doing business with you as always,” Nott grinned as the gnome grudgingly took her hand. “I admire your bartering skills, but know that on this day, you have been bested by Nott the Brave!”

He huffed. “You’re lucky I like you,” he said. “Not many others would be so nice about dealing with goblins. I hope you remember that next time you try and bargain the price up that high.”

“I hope you remember that I know what health code standards look like, and I know that the city isn’t so kind to merchants trading in illegal magical artifacts.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Oglen said. “It has been a pleasure. Come back any time.”

And with that, Nott shoved the bills into her pocket and cheerfully skipped out of the store.

•

Caleb turned back to a rather satisfied-looking Yasha standing in the doorway to his bathroom.

“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

He ran a finger along his jawline and over his chin, smooth for the first time in over a year. There was an occasional stubby patch, but nothing too obvious for those that didn’t know where to look.

“It’s…it’s fantastic, Yasha,” he said quietly. “Really. Thank you.”

She nodded. “You are welcome. Pay me back with Frumpkin?”

He chuckled at that. “Of course, Engel. I need to dress quickly now, but he will be in the kitchen. Stay as long as you please.”

Yasha's multicolored eyes glimmered. “Have fun on your date,” she said. “I will go find the cat.”

And before Caleb could correct her—it’s not a date, seriously—she darted out of the room with surprising speed, and he was alone in the bedroom.

He sighed, gave one last glance at his reflection, and started getting ready.

•

Molly, still out on the sidewalk, finally nodded to himself, slung a long, plastic garment bag over his shoulder, and strode into the café.

•

“Jester, why do you keep checking your phone?” Fjord whispered as the lesson continued. “It’s not polite.”

“It’s not any ruder than doodling,” she hissed back, “which is what I would be doing. Anyways, I’m checking to see if Molly’s sent me any texts. He and Caleb are going on that date today, remember?”

“Oh,” Fjord nodded. “Is that why Molly was so frantic this mornin’ about what to wear?”

“Probably,” Jester shrugged. “You know, you really shouldn’t have to ask me for information about his personal life. He’s your roommate.”

Fjord sighed. “Molly is an enigma to me, Jes. Give me Beau any day, I at least understand her. She’s a straight shooter. Well, not a straight shooter—”

Jester giggled. “Definitely not. Don’t worry, Oskar, I will keep giving you romantic updates. Even when you don’t want them, I will keep doing so.”

He sighed again. “Thank you, I think?”

“You’re welcome. Now hush, I am trying to focus. Go back to learning, or whatever you were doing before.”

•

A tiny bell over the door jingled softly as Caleb stepped inside. The Candleglow Café—its name scrawled proudly outside the large glass windows in curling script—was a small establishment with a warmly-lit interior. The ceiling sported a canopy of hanging plants, tiny yellow and scarlet flowers peeking through broad green leaves in wicker baskets. The hardwood floors gleamed from sunlight filtering in, and the afternoon crowd’s idle chatter created a soft blanket of quiet sound. Two figures stood at the wooden counter to the left, its surface piled high with platters of pastries. A chalkboard behind them listed drink offerings and announced that peppermint lattes were the season’s specialty. The smell of brewing espresso warmed the air.

Glancing around, Caleb could see that the clientele not only included the standard humans, halflings and such, but also a handful of more colorful folks. Their groupings varied; a tiefling sat across from a dwarf and a pair of sun elves shared drinks with two humans, and so on. None of the chairs they sat in matched either—some were painted with flowers, others sported cushions, a few metal, at the back were just sofas thrown in for fun. But instead of feeling haphazard and random, the atmosphere seemed strangely homey, weirdly honest. It was the very definition of snug. It said: we might not be organized, or coherent, or make any sense, but it works. And we serve damn good coffee.

As Caleb made one final sweep of the café, his eyes landed on a splash of purple lounging behind one of the small circular tables to his right, by the windows. It wore a maroon varsity jacket absolutely wrecked with embroidery, and had a pair of curling horns sporting silver and gold jewelry.

It was Mollymauk. Who looked over, saw Caleb, and immediately sat up and waved.

“Over here, dear!”

Caleb restrained himself from nervously combing through his hair, smiled weakly instead, and walked over.

“I hope I am not late,” he said, taking the seat across from Molly. “I was, er…shaving.”

He did not notice over his mounting panic, but Molly took a moment to respond and stumbled slightly as he did.

“You look dear, great—I mean, ah, you look quite nice.” He cleared his throat and turned around, revealing a long plastic bag draped over the back of his chair. He grabbed it and passed it over to Caleb.

“It’s your jacket,” he explained. “That you let me borrow. I had it cleaned for you, I hope that’s alright?”

“What?” Caleb blinked. “Oh, ja, er, that is very nice of you, Mollymauk. Thank you.”

“Yes, well. I figured it was the least I could do. You kept me from getting hypothermia that night, so I’d better make sure your clothes stay clean, right?”

“Ah…yes. Right.”

There was a pause, filled with background chatter and rustling as Caleb settled the bag over his own chair. Then he faced Molly again, and they stared at each other wordlessly for a few moments. Caleb scrambled frantically for something to fill the silence, and unknown to him, Molly did as well.

“So, do you—”

“Any preference for—”

Another pause.

“You first,” they both said at exactly the same time.

A final pause, which Caleb broke by laughing awkwardly.

“You go,” he said. “What were you saying?”

“Well, nothing too dramatic,” Molly grinned, and then tried not to wonder why he said that. He cleared his throat and continued. “I was just going to ask if there was a drink you’d like. I did promise to treat you, right?”

“Oh,” said Caleb. “Oh, yes. Ah…I usually just get black coffee,” and balked when he saw the offended expression on Molly’s face. “Er…is that bad?” he asked.

“My dear sir,” Molly said, pressing a hand over his heart, “that is a crime. Come on, the Candleglow has plenty to offer. Name any flavor combination you’d like, and I’m sure they can make it.”

Caleb seemed to consider this for a moment. “Anything?” he asked.

“Anything your heart desires, dear. Come on, is there anything you’ve always wanted to try before, or a drink you used to love? I bet there is.”

Caleb hesitated. Then he rubbed his chin. “You are going to think this is silly,” he said. “I had it mostly as a joke the first time.”

Molly’s eyes glittered and he leaned across the table. “Oh, dear. Now you’ve got my interest. Lay it on me.”

Caleb nodded. “It was something I had a long time ago, traveling with…with classmates. It was called a Rüdesheimer Kaffee. I think perhaps it is too early for anything alcoholic, but it was a very strong coffee drink, and then they added brandy, and whipped cream, and chocolate. And vanilla, I think, somewhere in there.”

He looked at Molly sheepishly. “A bit too fancy, though, ja?”

“It’s brilliant,” Molly said. “Gods, I want one right now.”

Caleb chuckled. “I do not know if they serve that sort of thing so far south, where we are,” he said. “And I would rather not have brandy before noon.”

“But vanilla and chocolate?” Molly asked, raising an eyebrow. “Now that sounds like much more fun than a black coffee, my dear. Hang on,” he said, and stood up. “I’m going to have a word with Thaddeus. I’ll be right back.”

And before Caleb could say a word, Molly had run off and was in deep discussion with a halfling—Thaddeus—behind the counter. He watched them go back and forth for a few moments, Molly pointing at various jars and nodding excitedly as two cups were brought out and filled and adorned to his satisfaction.

He returned and placed their drinks on the tabletop, pushing one towards Caleb.

Whatever coffee was inside had been absolutely buried under a large swirl of whipped cream, topped with little shavings of chocolate. It smelled like vanilla.

“To friends who help you stay warm,” Molly beamed, and lifted his own cup.

Caleb managed a smile at that. “Ja, alright,” he agreed. “And to warm cafés.”

When the drink hit his lips, Caleb’s eyes went wide, He lowered the cup and blinked. There was a line of white foam on his upper lip. “Scheiss,” he said, “this is much sweeter than what I remember.”

Molly wore an immense grin. “Just the way I like it,” he said, then chuckled. “Are you alright, Mister Caleb? Is it too sugary?”

Caleb shook his head and cleared his throat quietly. “No, no,” he said, “not at all. I am just unused to…to that taste. Give me a moment, do not worry.”

“Is it close to the…the rude drink, you mentioned before?”

Caleb actually snorted at that. “Rüdesheimer Kaffee,” he corrected teasingly. “And it was not too bad. Of course, I appreciate the lack of alcohol—”

“A shame, but you’re welcome.”

“—and the taste it not exactly the same, but it is quite nice. Quite nice indeed. Thank you.”

Molly beamed. “No problem, dear. Now, I assume we should talk about ourselves, yes? Especially since Jester and Fjord aren’t here to interrupt.”

“Ja, I suppose so. What do you propose?”

“I know virtually nothing about you dear.” Molly leaned back in his chair. “And I don’t remember talking that much about myself, so why don’t we do a trade? I’ll ask you a question, and you ask me one in return.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. “That sounds like a good start. Er…go ahead?”

Molly laughed. “Hmm…how about…do you like your job? I seem to recall Jester saying you work at the library.”

“That would be correct,” Caleb sighed. “It is nice, all in all. Easy work, very quiet, and usually I am left to my own reading. The only problem, I would say, is that they do not give me more hours.”

“Well, that must be their loss, dear. You seem like the library type, you know.”

“Do I?”

“All you need are glasses, and you’d be perfect. It’s a, ah, a good look on you.”

“Oh. Er…thank you.” Caleb fidgeted with the handle of his mug for a few moments before speaking. “So, do you like your job? Being such a fancy singer at the Moondrop, and all?”

Molly grinned. “I’m definitely lucky to work somewhere so fun,” he conceded. “Though, and I think I’ve mentioned this before, I could stand to get into a little less trouble with the clientele.”

“Actually,” Caleb said, “I have been wondering about that. How is it that you are not swarmed on the streets? How is it that presses do not harass you, and all that? If you are so famed as Jester and Fjord said.” Then he balked and added, “That came out a bit, er…confrontational. Sorry.”

Molly waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, Mister Caleb, I got it. I think it’s mostly that…when I’m up on stage, I’m somebody else. I feel…like I was born to be the center of attention, in a weird way. And when I’m on the arm of some celebrity, or when I have a famous person on mine, I then for the rest of the world, I’m flashy and interesting. But when I’m alone…or in a quiet café out of the way like this…I don’t think I’m quite so interesting anymore. And not as recognizable. With someone famous, I’m exotic. I’m glamorous. Alone, I’m a random tiefling wandering through the streets of a very big city. Does that make sense?”

Caleb nodded slowly, and took another sip. “I think…I think that does.”

“Plus, I just have one of those faces that’s easy to mistake, you know?”

He scoffed. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely, dear. Now, my turn to ask. Hmm…can you tell me about how you and Nott met? She made…quite the impression on me during movie night a few days ago.”

Caleb smiled, and here there was no trace of strain or anxiety. “Ja, that is Nott in a nutshell, isn’t it? And, well, we actually met in…not the most elegant of locations.”

“Please, do go on.”

Caleb carefully met Molly’s gaze. “Tell me, Mollymauk, how…acquainted are you with things that are not always the most…legally up to standard?”

Those red eyes glittered. “I work at a bar, dear. Downstairs we run a club so popular we had to install more soundproofing than you can imagine. The mother of one of my dearest friends,” he continued quietly, “is a high-profile courtesan. And let’s just say tipping isn’t the only way to get coin from the pockets of patrons that wouldn’t miss it. What was your question, again?”

Caleb nodded, satisfied. “We met in a prison in a smaller township to the north. Both of us for stealing.”

Molly gave him a wicked grin. “And how did you get out?”

Caleb leaned back into his chair and examined his fingernails. For just a second, for a moment so short that Molly barely caught it, a lighter-sized flame burst from Caleb’s thumb and went out.

It sent shivers down Molly’s spine. He wasn’t exactly sure what kind.

“Of course, nobody got hurt,” Caleb added. “I…would not have done well if somebody had.”

Molly laughed. “Glad to see there’s a bleeding heart under the mysterious magical criminal, then. Now, ask me a question.”

Caleb tapped his chin, and then brightened up. “Jester mentioned you had your own magic to me once, I think? Is that true?”

Molly hesitated, and Caleb almost apologized. But then the tiefling smiled faintly and nodded. “I do, yes,” he said. “It’s probably not the same as yours, though. Actually, I think I can almost guarantee that it isn’t.”

“Is it innate, then?” he asked. “Like some of Jester’s abilities?”

Molly shrugged. “Maybe?” he said. “I don’t know, I’ve been able to do it as long as I can remember,” he added lightly. “Now, what is your favorite book?”

Caleb blinked, the sudden shift in conversation catching him off-guard. “My favorite book?” he asked. “Er, why?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question, right? Sorry, did you want to stop, or—”

“Oh no, no,” Caleb said hastily. “No, it is alright. Er…favorite book, favorite book…there was a novel I read once before called Before the River’s Dawn, about the creation myth of Wildemount. It is quite good, if you ever feel in the mood for history. And then there is The Mountain Range of Gold, that one was also excellent, and is a three-part fictional series. Actually, the second book is widely regarded as the best in the trilogy but the author believes the last was her most praiseworthy work, even though I really believe the first volume…”

And as Caleb continued rambling, Molly couldn’t help but feel relieved that the other man so easily dropped the subject of magic. It had been a pleasure, really, to watch Caleb’s usually-stoic mask crumble under the weight of sugary coffee and now light up animatedly at the opportunity to discuss his favorite novels. And most importantly, Molly was relieved that no sensitive topics would need airing out on a first date like this.

•

Nott cracked open the kitchen window of the apartment and crawled through, as she always did. It wasn’t until she had made her way across the counter and hopped cheerfully onto the white-tiled floor did she see a large figure crawling on the ground in front of her.

She screamed, which was understandable, and Yasha looked up in panic.

“What the fu—oh my gods.” Nott sighed, and rubbed her eyes. “Why are you in our house?”

Yasha stood up, dusting her sweatpants off as she did. “Caleb invited me over,” she said. “I helped him get ready for his date, and he said I could play with Frumpkin while he was gone.”

Nott only needed a second to go from terror to complacency. “Okay,” she sighed again. “Sure. Just…just warn a girl next time, alright? I thought there was a wolf in the living room.”

Yasha nodded immediately. “Sorry,” she said. “I can see why that would be startling.”

“Yeah, you think? And anyway, why were you on the floor?”

Yasha pointed at the couch. “Frumpkin ran underneath,” she said. “I was trying to get him out.”

Nott considered this for a moment. Then she unhooked her pouch from her belt, rolled up her sleeves, and marched towards the living room. “Hang on,” she said. “I’ll get ‘im for you.”

•

“Is Beau coming this time?” Jester asked as she and Fjord exited the Sutan Learning Hall and walked onto the street. “She mentioned that she might this morning, did she say anything to you while you were at the gym?”

Fjord nodded. “She said she’d meet us at the address. You know, I never expected her to be the type to enjoy apartment-hunting so much. Especially when she isn’t even the one hunting.”

Jester grinned. “She likes shaking up landlords. I think it comes from being a rich guy’s daughter. It’s probably therapeutic, or something.”

“Well," he chuckled, "I’m not one to get in the way of someone working out their personal problems. Shall we head over now?”

Jester giggled and held out her elbow. “I think we shall, sir Fjord. I’m actually super-excited to see this one. It’s pet-friendly and everything.”

•

By now, the morning mob had melted away into a rather bustling lunch crowd, that soon faded into the last stragglers of the late-afternoon. Molly, among other things, had learned about Caleb’s asshole of an apartment super, about Frumpkin the definitely-a-real-cat, and more about the underground smutty novel trade than he ever could have expected. Caleb, in turn, had learned about a number of the tiefling’s more riveting romantic entanglements, about Yasha and his friendship, and about life as a serial performer.

And as the empty cups of makeshift Rüdesheimer Kaffee slowly grew stone-cold, Molly began to see glimmers of somebody else swimming under the surface of the scruffy wizard in front of him. Somebody who, though perhaps he himself didn’t remember, not only knew what it was like to be the center of attention, but also had thrived there. And Caleb, plastic laundry bag pressed against his back, eventually began to notice a kindness and desperation for nothing but friendship, real friendship, lurking within in the man across the table, whose entire life was seemingly an act.

And just as Molly was wrapping up the story of how Ornna and Gustav nearly launched the Moondrop into a civil war over a simple spat—never underestimate that woman, Mister Caleb, she can be very persuasive when she wants to be—Molly’s phone started buzzing from its place on the tabletop.

They both glanced down. The screen read:

2:30PM

YOU HAVE REHEARSAL AT 3. DO NOT FORGET OR YASHA WILL KILL YOU

Molly sighed and silenced the alarm.

“Sorry, dear,” he said with an apologetic expression. “I should probably head out now. It…it truly has been lovely though. We should definitely do this again.”

Caleb smiled back. “I agree. I had a nice time also. You are…fun, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

Molly grinned. “Really? Well, that is quite a high compliment coming from you. Oh!” he added, and hit himself in the forehead dramatically. “Before I forget, are you doing anything this Saturday?”

“This Saturday?” Caleb echoed. “Oh, uh…I do not believe I am. Why?”

“Well, the Moondrop is having a big celebration for its 25th anniversary. I was wondering if, ah, perhaps you’d like to come?” he fished around in his pocket and produced a small white card, trimmed with gold. “Here’s an invitation,” he said, and passed it across the table to Caleb. “We’ll all be there, Beau and Fjord and Yasha and I, plus Jester is coming too. You’re welcome to bring Nott along also. If you’re…interested?”

Caleb blinked a few times, and studied the card in his hands. “Ah,” he said. “Is it…a party, then?”

Molly quickly shook his head. “Not at all, dear. It’s a show. From all the singers and dancers, including yours truly. Limited social interaction, and I’m sure Jester would love to cover for you if anyone actually tried to mingle. She was going to ask you to go originally but, well, I wanted to. I thought it might be a good step in our friendship if I did. It would…mean a lot to me, if you would come and see me perform?”

Caleb nodded slowly to himself. Then he glanced back up at Molly and gave him a tentative grin. “That sounds…like a very good step indeed. I will…think it over, if that is alright?”

“Excellent!” Molly said, and gave Caleb a clap on the shoulder. “Perfect. I’ll send Nott the details if you decide to come? It starts at seven in the evening, so there’s plenty of time to get ready and all.” Molly stood up. “Er…see you later, then?”

Caleb nodded again, this time much faster. His smile grew only the smallest bit, but it was enough to make Molly’s heart soar with relief.

“See you later, Mister Mollymauk.”

“Wonderful, Mister Caleb. Tell Nott I said hello.”

And with that, the tiefling gave Caleb one more pat on the arm, and headed out the door.

•

Today 2:42 PM

Molly Tealeaf: Jester your idea worked theyre probably in Jester Lavore: of course it did! and I assume the date was good too? Molly Tealeaf: it was wonderful dear Molly Tealeaf: now you just gotta help them get ready and navigate fancy people during the event Molly Tealeaf: does that sound alright? Jester Lavore: molly are you kidding Jester Lavore: i would want nothing more than to do that Jester Lavore: oh my gods im going to put nott in a dress Jester Lavore: thank you for this gift Molly Tealeaf: go easy on them please I only just met em Jester Lavore: ive known them months Jester Lavore: im unleashing hell Jester Lavore: okay bye gotta go fjord says this apartment might be perfect and beau is gonna start haggling now k bye Molly Tealeaf: have fun dear make sure she doesn’t kill anybody

•

Hard as he tried, Caleb’s heart refused to calm down as he rounded the hallway and made his way up the stairs to his apartment. He felt light-headed, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He felt anxious, as if he were expecting the clear skies overhead to suddenly turn grey, or as if he were about to get back scores from an exam he hadn’t aced after all.

And more than anything, he felt guilty.

He had enjoyed himself, at the Candleglow, with this strange man that had suddenly catapulted his way into Caleb’s life. This technicolor whirlwind that would go from high-energy to soft and thoughtful at a moment’s notice. This odd newcomer that made Caleb laugh, that bought him a drink that reminded him of home, that had managed to carefully coax him into opening up about his life where most could never get a word out. After all, Jester had been trying for months.

But Caleb shouldn’t have had fun. He wasn’t supposed to. He didn’t deserve that kind of happiness, and he had left it all behind.

Worst of all, up until now, the feelings now bubbling dangerously in his chest had unswervingly belonged to somebody else. And after it had become clear that they would never be needed ever again, Caleb had locked them up in a box and pushed them down, deep down, so far down that he thought they would never see sunlight again.

Until, apparently, now.

He sighed as he unlocked the front door. Then he yelped in surprise and backed up. Three pairs of eyes instantly trained on him from down on the living room floor.

Frumpkin—in Yasha’s hands, being scratched by Nott—meowed.

“Hey, Caleb!” Nott said cheerily. “Did the date go well?”

“Did Molly like your shave?” Yasha chimed in immediately. “Was it alright?”

He blinked a few times. Then he rubbed his face and sighed. “Have you been in my house since I left?” he asked.

Yasha glanced at Nott, who shrugged, and then back to Caleb.

“Yes?”

He nodded and took his coat off. “Don’t you have rehearsal, or something now?”

Yasha’s face suddenly looked stricken. “Shoot,” she said, and stood up. “I forgot.”

She handed a mildly disgruntled-looking cat to Nott, and quickly started to gather her things. She draped her large shawl around her shoulders, strapped the sword to her back, and gave Caleb a clap on the arm. “See you later. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Er…no problem?”

And then she squeezed past, and bolted out the door.

“So anyways,” Nott said after Caleb had taken his shoes off and joined her on the floor. “Did the date go well?”

He nodded, and pulled Frumpkin into his lap. “I think it so,” he said, “though again, it was not a date. Mollymauk asked me to meet up once more, later this week.”

“Really?” Nott’s face lit up. “That’s great! Where?”

Caleb gave her a small smile. “At the Moondrop,” he said. “And you’re invited as well. How do you feel like being part of high society for a night?”

Nott raised an eyebrow. “Is that safe?” she asked.

Caleb considered the strange feeling of guilt weighing in his stomach. The dread he felt at having to interact with the upper crust. The terror of the past catching up to him.

And then he thought about the way Molly’s eyes had softened when he asked if Caleb would come see him perform. He thought about the distant glimmer of city lights at night as they stood up on the balcony together in the light snow. He thought about the way his mouth still tasted, ever-so-slightly, like vanilla and cream and chocolate shavings.

“It’s safe,” he said slowly. “And you know, I think the two of us need to just live once in a while. Ja?”

Nott’s eyes glittered. “Ja,” she echoed, and then grinned. “Yeah, absolutely.”

•

☕ ☕ 💚

#critical role #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #text #cr2 #widomauk #jay writes #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #fjord #jester #yasha #nott #beauregard #long post #longfic #something new for me and you

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pauldeckerus · 6 years ago

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The Top 200 Things I’m Thankful For This Thanksgiving

Today is a big holiday in the US; it’s a day where we take time off to celebrate all the things we’re thankful for. We get together with family; over-eat a traditional Thanksgiving Day meal, and then we watch football until we pass out. It’s just about a perfect day.

I got up this morning feeling especially grateful for the many blessings I enjoy all year long, and I wanted to take a few minutes to share the things I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving Day. I believe counting your blessings is one of the best things a person can do (and that this list of 200 is only a start, is a real blessing to me for sure).

Here they are, (in no particular order):

I’m thankful….

1. that I got to marry the girl of my dreams (it’ll be 30-years this coming September)

2. for Keurig Coffee Makers

3. for little hole-in-the-wall restaurants

4. for having a big brother I could always look up to

5. that she said “yes!”

6. for the “Skip” button on YouTube ads

7. when I hear the ringtone that lets me know my son is texting us

8. for Seinfeld reruns

9. that I learned how to use Photoshop and Lightroom

10. for lazy Saturday mornings when we just chill

11. for Saturday College Football games and that our son chose a big football school (#rolltide!)

12. for Hulu and Netflix and Amazon Prime

13. for Maggie the Wonderdog

14. for how happy Maki the SuperDog makes my wife

15. for that first cup of coffee in the morning

16. that my wife got us a Latte maker

17. for big greasy double-cheeseburgers served in restaurants whose cleanliness is so suspect that my wife would never eat there.

18. for anytime I drive up to our house, and see our son’s truck sitting out front

19. that first morning hug from my wifey

20. that the Buc’s miserable season is mercifully almost over

21. that this year the Patriot’s aren’t as good as they usually are

22. for any chilly day here in Florida

23. for my daughter’s wonderful sense of humor

24. when my daughter shares her drawings with me

25. for CoffeeMate individual creamers

26. that my son was born with the built-in love of helping and looking out for other people

27. for the text my son just sent us as I’m writing this that brought tears to my eyes

28. for my daughter’s laugh

29. for all the family traditions that my wife fosters and we all lover

30. that our kids get to attend great schools

31. for Dunkin Donut’s drive-thru in the morning, and that they’ll make your coffee just the way you like it

32. for Terry White

33. for the kind people who read my blog each day

34. for all the little things

35. for our cozy couch for watching TV

36. for Logic Pro X (the wonderful recording studio software on my Mac)

37. for Pizza, and the fine people who deliver them.

38. for mornings where Maggie doesn’t bark at other children and parents in the car line

39. that my son is such a faithful person by nature

40. for Sunday night’s texting my buddy Jeff Revell as we watch ‘The Walking Dead’ together, while 1,000 miles apart

41. for our tradition of watching “Love Actually” again every Christmas

42. for living so close to Disney World

43. for how awesome my wife is at planning trips

44. for being married to such an amazing cook

45. for a really comfy bed pillow

46. for Rick and Susan Sammon

47. for all my guitars

48. for beautiful offices for us to work in each day

49. to have Jessica, Kim and Cindy work on my books

50. that people actually buy my books, which lets me keep writing them

51. for the smell of my wife’s cooking when I walk in the door

52. for times when just my daughter and I get to go out to lunch

53. for Moose and Sharon

54. for Dave, Peter, and Glyn

55. for having such a wonderful mother and father growing up.

56. for being able to play musical instruments

57. for having mentors whose wisdom and whip-cracking have helped immeasurably throughout my life

58. for Jeanne Jilleba who helps me so much each day

59. for having a great relationship with my mother and father-in-law

60. for having a mother-in-law who stepped in for my own mother when she passed away

61. for the trips my brother and I take together once a year

62. to Delta, their SkyClub, and all the upgrades I get each year

63. to Erik Kuna for being my friend

64. for all the folks who come out to my seminars each year.

65. that I still get to work with my friend Ted Waitt

66. for Levi, and Sally and Dianne for caring so much about our members

67. for Chris, Susie, Karen and Pam – I’m lucky to work with them

68. for my wife’s beautiful smile

69. for how my son always shares new songs he finds with me

70. for all the times my wife texts me a heart emoji

71. for somebody’s else’s fries

72. for how my friend Dave Clayton’s texts always make me laugh out loud

73. that my kids know they are loved completely and unconditionally

74. for my Pastor and friend Douglas Poole

75. for Victoria’s sweet texts, and for what a joy she is

76. that I get to drive a car each day that makes driving a joy

77. for really good air conditioning

78. that I get to use such great camera and lighting gear

79. for Google’s news app on my phone

80. for my great Web team; Adam, Aaron, Yo, and Curt

81. for everybody who checked on my wifey when she got in an accident

82. for black t-shirts with logos on them

83. for Dave Black, Kristy Sherk, Lindsay Adler and Peter Hurley,

84. for the beautiful baby grand piano Kalebra bought for my birthday 20+ years ago

85. that I’ve been able to be a part of the Photoshop World conference all these years

86. for when great ideas pop in my head, and for being able to move on when it turns out some of them aren’t as great as I thought

87. for all my friends who came to the rescue

88. for the pretty drive to work in the mornings

89. for Juan, Steve, Jason and Christina

90. that my daughter and our niece are such great friends

91. that my son loves so many different kinds of music (everything from classic rock to Sinatra to rap to metal)

92. for all the times my big brother helped me, and guided me, when I was growing up.

93. for my apple watch and all the reminders it gives me

94. for weekends and days off

95. for the smell of coffee brewing

96. for Margie, Angela, Jacque, John and Rachel

97. for Maxx Hammond for being such a great friend to my son all these years, and for being an important part of our family

98. for comfortable shoes

99. for having a friend like Manny

100. for loving every minute with my family

101. for the men and women of our military

102. for Julie, Kleber, Heidi and Cheryl

103. for the little Blackstar tube amp sitting on my desk

104. anytime I get to go to New York City

105. for our dear friend and partner Jean A.

106. for James Taylor

107. for all the awesome texts I’m getting from friends today

108. that my daughter still cares that I bake my special “Christmas Cookies” each year when we put up the tree (and I’m grateful she thinks Pillsbury mean ‘special’).

109. my guardian angel

110. for bagels with cream cheese

111. for Larry Tiefenbrunn

112. for first responders

113. that my camera bag has four wheels

114. for Viktor and Ron

115. for Larry Becker, Rob Sylvan, and Dave Williams

116. for my friends Chicky Nando, and Big Mike, and Cathy B, and Mimo

117. for all the stuff in Erik’s backpack (since he always has that thing I need that I forgot to bring)

118. for waking up feeling great in the morning!

119. for Joe and Annie

120. that our dog Maki has a best friend in our son’s dog Nami

121. for beautiful clouds when I’m shooting a sunrise

122. for a yummy breakfast after a sunrise shoot

123. for my wife’s homemade chocolate-chip pancakes

124. for the sound of my wife’s voice

125. for mornings when I get up early and get a bunch of stuff done and I look up and it’s only 8:15 am

126. for landings in London

127. the quiet time my wife and I share with our coffee in the mornings before the kids wake up

128. My MacBook Pro and how much easier it makes my business life each day

129. for forgiveness

130. that I realize what a privileged, blessed life I lead, and to whom I owe the thanks

131. that I start each day getting centered reading the Bible and daily devotionals

132. for how my daughter is always dancing

133. for the night’s where our family gets together to play games

134. for when we all lay on the floor, looking up and debate how tall the ceiling is in our living room

135. for our holiday trips to Disney’s Hollywood Studios

136. for cheese. Any kind of cheese. Even if it dispenses from a can

137. that somebody kept reading even though we’re down to number 137

138. that we have doggie treats when we really need them

139. for breakfasts at First Watch

140. for Carmine’s on W. 44th Street

141. for all the awesome instructors I get to work with

142. for empty middle seats

143. for my iPad and all the awesome apps, like the Kindle Reader

144. for the Texture app so I can read all my favorite magazines on my iPad

145. that I get to make new friends along the way

146. that people come to my workshops and I get to make new friends

147. for everyone who has stuck up for me in an online forum

148. for all the people who helped me along the way, and who may be gone, but are not forgotten

149. for the great companies and partners who sponsor The Grid

150. that I get to do a weekly live photography show and have such wonderful photographers as guests

151. for my Platypod Ultra

152. that my employees have a long weekend this weekend

153. for my lunch this week with an old friend

154. that we work so close to one of the best Cuban restaurants

155. for Tara our awesome official Chilis server for over 10-years now

156. for how happy fresh flowers make my wife

157. to see how happy it makes Kalebra when we all eat our vegetables at dinner

158. for a beautiful yard for the doggos to run in.

159. for Sundays when I sleep in really late

160. that my son left his awesome drum kit here so I can play it

161. that my old rock band from high-school still gets together to play our high-school reunion party

162. that I live in a very sunny place

163. for Google search

164. for every time my wife is cooking and says “I’m trying something different tonight.” It always leads to a delicious meal!

165. that I always remember our anniversary

166. that our family makes birthdays really special for each other

167. that we have a photographic art gallery and that we get to celebrate our member’s work there

168. that I have such a great art director for my shoots in Kalebra

169. for William C. Miller, my high school band director, who taught us more than music.

170. that I was born and raised here

171. for Deb, John, Bob, Sam, and all my friends in Boston

172. for the Sci-Fi Drive-In Theatre restaurant

173. for Frank Doorhof

174. for all the summers in Sarasota at the beach when I was growing up

175. for getting to board early

176. for Larry Grace, Ed Buice, and Rob Foldy

177. for Superchargers

178. for when the dogs realize it was just a random sound and stop barking

179. for all the live concerts, Broadway shows, and performances I’ve experienced

180. for my wife’s guardian angel, who has been working overtime lately

181. for Zephyrhills bottled spring water

182. for the times my brother and I get to play golf

183. for the Genius Bar in the Apple Store

184. for Chili’s chips and salsa

185. for now thoughtful my wife is

186. for afternoon’s at the movies

187. for the times when I could think of the perfect gift

188. for all the people who participate in my Worldwide Photo Walk and for the joy it brings me to see their smiling faces in their group shots

189. for everyone who has donated to the Springs of Hope Kenya orphanage

190. for all the wonderful gifts I treasure that Kalebra has gotten me over the years

191. for all my friends at Canon USA

192. for everybody who follows me on social media, and shares a kind word or says something nice about one of my images.

193. for every handmade birthday card my daughter has made for me

194. that my son is a way better version of me

195. for all the times when my wife knows exactly what to say and how to say it

196. that people are kind when they point out my typos on my blog

197. that I love to drive

198. that I still get to play with Scotty and Tony in a band.

199. for how easy it was to come up with 200 things I’m grateful for

200. for God, and His Son Jesus Christ, for leading me to the woman of my dreams, for blessing us with such amazing children, for allowing me to make a living doing something I truly love, for always being there when I need Him, for blessing me with a wonderful, fulfilling, and happy life, and such a warm, loving family to share it with.

Here’s wishing you a Thanksgiving full of family, food, gratitude for our many blessings, and I hope your team wins this weekend unless you’re playing Alabama! #rolltide!

All my best,

-Scott

The post The Top 200 Things I’m Thankful For This Thanksgiving appeared first on Scott Kelby's Photoshop Insider.

from Photography News https://scottkelby.com/the-top-200-things-im-thankful-for-this-thanksgiving/

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