#to soldier there is no gender... only Americans

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

You know what, I think it would be extremely funny if the tf2 mercs sometimes just casually called each other 'girl' the way gossipy teenage besties would. Especially mid conversation for no reason like:

"Girl, for the last time stop antagonizing the enemy Sniper during cease fire, this is the fifth time I've had to pull an arrow out of you and it's only 10am"

Do you- do you see what I'm trying to say, do you understand my vision rn

[batboyblog]

What Joe Biden has Done for LGBTQ+ People

I wanted to list out everything The Biden Administration has done for Queer people in the last 3 and a half years, but according to GLAAD it'd been 337 moves (and I noticed they missed a few things...) there was just no way to list every ground breaking first Queer person ever nominated to fill this or that job, every ally with a historic LGBT rights record nominated for a top job, every beautiful statement of support, every time he tried to get Congress to pass the Equality Act (support it!) So I've gone through and done my best to pick the ones I think were the most important, but everyone should check out the full list!

Day 1: Signs executive orders banning discrimination and ordering a full review of all federal agencies policies to better include and support LGBT people

Pete Buttigieg becomes the first openly gay person nominated and confirmed for a cabinet level post as Secretary of Transportation

Revokes Trump’s 2018 ban on transgender military personnel

Department of Housing and Urban Development implements LGBTQ protections in housing, becoming first federal agency to implement Pres. Biden’s executive order

First President to recognize and proclaim Trans Day of Visibility

Department of Justice Civil Rights Division issues an official memo that the Supreme Court's Bostock decision against LGBT workplace discrimination also applies to education through Title IX

HUD withdraws a Trump Administration proposed rule change, and reaffirms trans people's rights to seek shelters matching their gender identity

HHS announces the withdrawal of Trump Administration rules that allowed discrimination by healthcare organizations against LGBT people.

The State Department and later Homeland Security announce babies born to Queer couples overseas will be American citizens if one parent is American, in the past the child only qualified if they were genetically related to the American citizen parent.

The Justice Department files against a West Virginia law banning trans students from school athletics

Department of Veterans Affairs announces it will offer gender confirming surgery for transgender veterans. There are an estimated 134,000 transgender veterans in the U.S. and another 15,000 transgender people serving in the armed forces.

President Biden Signs a law making the Pulse Night Club a national memorial

The State Department creates an X gender marker for passports and other documents, allowing gender affirming identification for non-binary and intersex people for the first time.

The Census Bureau for the first time issues a Survey with questions about sexual orientation and gender identity

On the 10th anniversary of the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, Veterans Administration announces that soldiers discharged for homosexual conduct, gender identity or HIV status qualify for veterans' benefits

Dr. Rachel Levine becomes the first trans person confirmed by the US Senate when she was nominated to be Assistant Secretary for Health, she also became the first trans flag rank officer when she was sworn in as a 4 star Admiral for her job as head of the Public Health Service Commissioned Corps, his makes her the highest ranked trans person in government

Holds the first ever vigil in the White House for Transgender Day of Remembrance

HHS announces rule change to reinstate and expand protections against discrimination in the Affordable Care Act, including denying coverage for gender-affirming care.

Social Security Administration reverses a Trump Administration policy and allows benefits claims by surviving partners in same-sex relationships, whose partner died before marriage equality was legal

President Biden signs the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act (a bill he helped originally craft in the Senate) which for the first time has grant programs dedicated to expanding and developing initiatives specifically for LGBTQ survivors of domestic violence

The TSA announces new technology and policy shifts to improve the customer experience of transgender travelers who have previously been required to undergo additional screening due to alarms in sensitive areas.

The Social Security Administration allows people to edit their gender and name on records for the first time without legal and medical documentation

The US Air Force announces it'll offer medical and legal aid to any personnel families affected by state level anti-trans youth bills.

Karine Jean-Pierre becomes the first Lesbian to serve as White House Press Secretary

on 50th anniversary of Title IX The Department of Ed strengthens protections for Students against sexual harassment and discrimination

Veterans Affairs announces survivor benefits now extended to partners from relationships before marriage equality was legalized in 2015

President Biden signs the Respect for Marriage Act into law enshrining protections for marriage equality for same-sex and interracial couples

The Department of Ed announces new rules around athletic eligibility under Title IX, declaring blanket bans on trans students violate the law and setting up strike standards for schools

The White House announced a suit of new protections for LGBTQ people, including a new job at the Department of Ed to combat book bans, a joint DoJ Homeland Security effort to combat violence and threats and HHS evidence-based guidance to mental health providers for care of transgender kids

President Biden signs an Executive Order directing HHS to protect LGBTQI+ youth in the foster care system, a rule they later passed requiring Queer foster children to be placed in affirming homes

The Biden administration joins families of transgender youth in Tennessee and Kentucky in petitioning the U.S. Supreme Court to review and reverse a circuit court ruling allowing a ban on mainstream health care to be enforced

President Biden Signs a EO expanding on past EO on equality and helping underserved communities

The Department of Education's Civil Rights office opens an investigation into the death of Nex Benedict. President Biden in his statement said: "Every young person deserves to have the fundamental right and freedom to be who they are, and feel safe and supported at school and in their communities. Nex Benedict, a kid who just wanted to be accepted, should still be here with us today. Nonbinary and transgender people are some of the bravest Americans I know. But nobody should have to be brave just to be themselves. In memory of Nex, we must all recommit to our work to end discrimination and address the suicide crisis impacting too many nonbinary and transgender children.”

[thesirencult]

Pick A Card : Soul Connection

An intuitive reading about a soul meant to find yours. In epic tales there is a literally mechanism called "recognition". The hero and his counterpart recognize eachother even after years of estrangement. Like Penelope and Odysseus. A love so deep not even multiple lifetimes can erase. A soul kindred to yours you would recognize in a sea of people.

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."

disclaimer : a tarot reading should never be used in place of professional counselling. Your reading cannot offer legal, medical, business, or financial advice nor does any portion of your reading herein purport to. You should not rely on a tarot reading to make any decision that would affect your legal, financial, or medical condition. If your inquiry involves the law, finance, or medicine, then you should seek the advice of a licensed or qualified legal, financial, or medical professional. Also, tarot reading cannot replace qualified mental health care. A tarot reading can only facilitate how you cope spiritually with a given situation.

PILE 1

The soul meant to find yours is a gentle one. Themes that come up here remind me of couples like Queen Victoria and Albert. I t will be love at first sight. Whatever your genders are, the "supposed" feminine will be the dominant one.

Your person will take the backseat as you run things. You may come from a wealthier background or simply seem "high value". Lady and the trump vibes.

This person will fight for those who didn't get the same opportunities to grow. They cheer for the underdog. This person will love your firey nature and how "bossy" you are. One thing you have to be careful with in this relationship is to keep things balanced as sometimes they might feel like you do not respect them or you don't spend enough time with them.

They could be an INFJ. Sympathetic, compassionate and protective. Practical and detail oriented, this is the safe place you need to come back to after your long trips towards the stars.

PILE 2

The love of your life will be able to see you. The real you. They won't overlook the greyness in your face. "You're Losing Me" by Taylor Swift is a song that can talk about your past.

No one stopped hurting you even though they knew they wouldn't be able to bring you back. They didn't care.

This person is everything that you deserve. They will help you heal. No sad songs with this one. Your happily ever after. This person is a soldier. They would die for love.

Your people pleasing tendencies won't go unnoticed with this one. They care about YOU, not what you can do about THEM.

Give them a chance when they come around. Sweet energy. Safe. Boy-Girl-They next door energy. A sweetheart with a great smile and a kind glint in their eyes. My heart feels warm writing about them. Hallmark movies ain't got nothing on them. Their love is simple and "perfect". No questions and worries. Your safe place.

Your energy reminds me of those wedding photos you see on Instagram of couples in small American towns posing with their golden retriever and smiling at each other. Don't let your past wounds f*ck this up. Sincerely, from one people pleaser to another. If you picked this pile we would have been besties in real life. Lots of love and hugs your way.

P.S. They will always choose you. You are not the first, but the ONLY choice.

PILE 3

Your whole life you have felt alone and isolated. Like life is a party you have not been invited. I wouldn't say you are a "pick me", you are far from that. You just feel like there is no one there for you to keep your hands warm. You have always longed for someone that will look behind the mirror and realize there is someone is behind it. You struggle with finding your inner voice.

The catch here is that you have the ability to choose anyone behind the mirror. You have the ability to show who you truly are. Be wild and crazy. Unstoppable. You didn't come here to do pretty and quiet. You are here to awake others and break the glass.

The person meant for you, your other half is very different from you. They are way more hedonistic and may find solace is the material realm. They will do everything to make you feel wanted and beautiful. This person will see you for who you truly are and they won't feel intimidated. Your "black cat energy" won't drive them away. They have some skeletons in the closet themselves. Disturbing and compelling, this one would make a great "50 Shades Of Grey" type of movie. lol. They could listen a lot to the Weeknd or they used to live a very "rough" lifestyle in the past. Love at first sight. Intense. You slap them and they will kiss you. They will buffle you. "Why doe sthis mfer stick around somehow?".

In all honesty, in this lifetime, your other half will be overbearing. They won't back down until they take you down with them. Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem come to mind in Jamon Jamon. This person may also come from money or have a lot of money and they want you to be their dark princess/prince. It will feel like taking a panther or feral cat and trying to domesticate it. Good try. You are still dangerous though, but they don't mind a few scratches.

[salmon-bagel]

Tf2 mercenaries x Seductress! Class! Reader

Warning: nsfw content, female reader, sexism

Scout

When Scout heard that there's a woman who's a professional at seduction, he had already started plotting.

"Hello, name is Y/n L/n, but you can call me the Seductress. It's nice to meet you."

"Heya, nice to meet cha' mommy- Oh, i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy-"

Constantly hits on you. Scout believes that you're the type of girl that's 'easy', someone who will let anyone bang them regardless of who they are.

That boy isn't going to leave you alone until you let him into your pants.

Even when he's not busy trying to get in between your legs, Scout is asking you for advice on how to woo the ladies. Considering you're a professional at flirting with people.

You go back and forth on giving him good advice and bad advice. Sometimes you feel bad that he can't get a girlfriend. Then again, you think to yourself that no woman should be within three feet of Scout because of how much of a horny asshole he is.

After some time, you did grow to have a soft spot for him. Since he's bullied a lot by the other mercenaries. He can be kinda cute when he's not being a complete jerk.

Soldier

Soldier treats you like the other mercenaries. Ruthlessly bleating in your ear when you're doing something wrong.

"GIVE ME ONE HUNDRED SQUATS NOW! I WANT THAT AMERICAN ASS NICE AND PERKY BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE!"

He wants the best from you. Regardless of your gender, he'll push you to the limit until he's proud enough to call you a warrior.

Soldier tests that you're a good seductress by making you flirt with him. It's an ego boost on his part, but he's genuinely trying to make sure you're hot enough for the enemy.

"YOU CALL THAT FLIRTING!? I'VE HEARD BETTER FLIRTING FROM A MONKEY! AT LEAST THEY CAN PUCKER THEIR LIPS BETTER UNLIKE YOURS!"

Buys you clothing that he believes would work well when you're seducing the enemies. It's always american themed swimwear or lingerie. You began to believe he's just buying that for himself for you to try.

Whenever the team successfully wins for the day, Soldier immediately rushes towards and smacks your ass as hard as he can.

"NOW THAT IS AN ASS I'M PROUD TO CALL AMERICAN!"

Sniper

Sniper believes your work is very unprofessional. Considering he believes you have to whore yourself out to the enemy team. Instead of using your actual skills.

He says he has nothing against prostitution or sex work in general. Sniper just thinks that stuff you do should be kept behind doors and not on the battlefield. He says it causes too much of a distraction. However, you claim that 'distraction' is the point. Sniper doesn't seem to get it.

You honestly could care less what he thinks. Snipers throws jars of piss for a living, and he really thinks he has the right to judge other people?

The truth is you're good at seducing people. Too good. That it distracts him from doing his own job. Sniper has a tendency to watch you through the scope of his gun.

The way your body gets all hot and sweaty from the terrible heat, oh it does something to him. Sniper has imagined licking your sweat off your tits while you degrade him for being such a filthy fuck.

You are his go-to jerk off material. The women in his porno magazines don't get him off like they used. The only way he can relieve himself now is by imagining your fat ass bouncing on his cock.

When he noticed a pair of your panties in the laundry basket, Sniper couldn't help himself to inhale the sweet scent of your panties before putting them back.

Sniper knows he's a damn hypocrite.

He slut shames you for what you do, only to get off to you afterwards. The post nut clarity consumes him with guilt and shame.

Sniper still hasn't built up the courage to apologize to you.

Heavy

Heavy is one of the very few people who treat you like an actual human being. He was raised by a single mother alongside three sisters. Heavy knows to treat a woman right. Less he wishes to face their fury.

Heavy doesn't understand why you seduce the enemy. You're supposed to shoot at the enemy, not bat your eyelashes and wink! However, after watching your work on the battlefield, he gets to more of an understanding.

"Oh, I see. You lie to enemy and lure them in like fish? HA! Very clever!"

Absolutely loves gunning down the enemy that is distracted by you.

Is one of the few men who genuinely falls for you for your personality. Heavy knows you're drop-dead gorgeous, but he knows that beneath all that beauty is a truly intelligent woman. You earned your place on the team by impressing Mann Co., with your skills instead of batting your eyelashes and begging to be a part of the team. You make his heart swoon like no other woman has.

He likes to write you poetry. It helps convey how he feels for you because he's too bashful to put it into simple words.

Heavy is not afraid of anything. Nothing, not even death itself. However, it took him a lot of courage and constant rehearsal to ask you out on a date.

He hopes to start a genuine relationship with you. Heavy doesn't want a one-night stand or be friends-with-benefits with you. He wants you to be his girlfriend and maybe possibly his wife later down the line.

Engineer

"Well, I'll be! Aren't you the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

Engineer is taken aback by your good looks and sauve personality. He genuinely questions why you wanted to be a mercenary. A beautiful lady like yourself is too of high risk to get hurt!

Will always be there to help you if it gets too much for you to handle.

However, he can be very overprotective over you on the battlefield. Engineer thinks it would be safer for you to stay on the rancho relaxo than getting shot at by the enemy. As much as you'd like to not do anything on the job, Mann Co. isn't paying you to be lazy. They see everything and will tell you to get off your ass and start fighting.

You have to beg Engineer that you can do it on your own. He understands your point of view and begrudgingly lets you fight with the others. Even if it means going against his code of defending and protecting a lady when she needs it.

While putting up dispensers and sentries, he can't help to admire you from afar. Engie believes that a guy like him has no chance with a girl like you. What woman would be interested in a bald man who has a robotic hand and locks himself away in his work? No gal that's who.

Engie fantasizes about working up the courage to flirt with you and ask you out, which would eventually lead to a rather sensual night spent together. He did try to ask you out once but miserably failed. Engie kept stuttering and mispronouncing words out of nervousness while attempting to seduce you. You couldn't make out what he was trying to say. Thankfully, Demo had the heart to pull Engie out of that mess of a conversation and save him from further embarrassing himself.

So now, he just admires you from afar. Dreaming that one day he'll get to win your heart.

Spy

Surprisingly, he wants to get to know you as soon as possible. It's not every day you get to meet a lovely lady.

When he learns of your class type, oh boy, this man will make you question if you're even meant to be the Seductress.

"Mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."

"Do you know why they call Paris the city of love? Why don't I take you there and show you?"

"If the verb ‘to love’ didn’t exist, I would have invented it upon seeing you."

Spy leaves your entire face red and completely frozen after he's done talking to you. He's so flattering and charismatic. In comparison to the other men, he makes it seem like they're not trying at all. It isn't their fault, though, Spy is a natural at wooing the ladies.

You're surprised when Spy gifts you things that you really like. You never shared these intimate details with him before or with the other mercenaries. When you asked him how he knew what you specifically liked, Spy merely winks at you and grins. He has a way of receiving information without anyone knowing.

He has a tendency to kiss the back of your hand whenever you two are greeting each other. Spy is a gentleman and can't help himself to be sweet to a beautiful woman.

When Spy asks you out on a date, you agree to it because you have been meaning to go out. You felt like you'd go insane if you stayed in the base any longer. You put on your best dress and left with Spy into town.

After having a nice meal and a few glasses of wine, both of you give into temptation. Spy could hardly keep his hands off you when he drove you both back to the base. All your clothes came off the moment you reached his bedroom. You found it a little strange he refused to take off his mask. Oh, what the hell. He's hot and treated you to a nice date.

In the morning, you receive uncomfortable stares from the other mercenaries. Let's just say you and Spy weren't exactly quiet during your lovemaking. Unfortunately for the others, you decided Spy would become your fuck buddy.

Medic

He's been meaning to include a female subject in his experiments- I mean, he's glad to meet you!

You try your best to steer clear of him. However, on the front lines, it isn't so easy. When you're constantly getting shot at and stabbed by enemies, you'll need the Medic's help to get better.

When he sees you in action, Medic feels a new emotion that he's never felt before. Is this.. love? Maybe it is. Or maybe it's just lust.

Medic has never been infatuated with any woman. Except you. The way you lure in these pathetic men with your good looks and false promises, only to kill them afterwards- oh God, it makes him giddy. He feels like a schoolboy all over again!

Medic does routine check-ups on you. To make sure all your lady parts are in working order. In reality, this perverted fuck wants to have an excuse to grope you. Always gaslights you into believing he's not being a degenerate.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Why, of course! Breast cancer isn't something to take lightly!" He'd respond. You would understand, but after thirty minutes of him fondling your breasts, you knew what his true intentions were.

Medic writes you love letters and his dove, Archimedes, deliver them to you.

The letters start off relatively sweet. Medic writes that he views you as a Goddess, a truly ethereal being that is too perfect for this world filled with lesser mortals. And how he's the only man truly worthy for you.

Then, the letters take a complete turn the more you read it. He writes how he wishes to fulfill every filthy fantasy he's ever had with you. Oh boy, the list is long. For one, Medic wants to tie you down, gag you, and breed you like the filthy whore you are. Another consited of how he wants to fuck you on the battlefield while you're bleeding out and fingering your open wound as if it was your pussy.

You've stopped reading his letters and tend to light them on fire.

Demoman

"So, how much do you regularly charge for a quick shag?" He'd ask you before laughing his ass off.

Demo will never take you or your work seriously. Even if you politely ask him to.

He doesn't see what's so hard about showing off your tits and saying how much you love to suck cock. Demo believes you should've been a stripper if you wanted to tease men so desperately.

You frequently explain to him in detail how you help and provide for the team. You honestly can't tell if Demo deliberately forgets or because he gets drunk so often, he hardly pays attention to you while you talk.

Don't worry, though. After you've instilled the fear of women into him, he'll be gladly reminded that he shouldn't judge or ridicule a woman. If his mother were here, she'd knock some sense into him.

Demo apologizes to you, drinks, gets drunk, and apologies some more

"I'm sorry, lassie! It's just that I just get so lonely sometimes! What woman would give me, a one-eyed freak, a chance!"

He bawls on the floor, crying in front of you. You attempt to cheer him up by comforting him. Instead, you end up getting drunk with him.

Did you shag him in the heat of the moment? That's all up to you ;)

Pyro

Has no idea what you're doing to the enemy. Anything sexual you do is translated as innocent in their vision. Will never know what real seduction or sex.

Luckily, they think everything you do is nice and polite!

Regularly gives you grotesque gifts, which are usually human hearts and bones. You begrudgingly take the gifts because you know they mean well and don't wish to be disrespectful.

Pyro has a tendency to go through your closet when you leave your room. Or while you're sleeping. Either why, they steal your clothing and belongings. They pick out outfits and wigs they like along with makeup supplies. You wonder where you placed your dress and immediately begin searching for it. Maybe you left it in the laundry room. As soon as you exit your room, you see Pyro wearing your clothing over their suit. Fake eyelashes have been glued onto their eyes, and lipstick smeared all over the breathing hole.

You can't even be upset with Pyro. They're doing their best.

You let Pyro keep the dress they're wearing, considering it most likely wouldn't fit you anymore.

[grison-in-space]

Currently rereading Eric Flint's 1632 and reflecting on just how influential Flint was to me and my approach to both praxis and politics as a teenager. I found Flint when I was about thirteen or fourteen, around the time I found Pratchett I think, and he's left an equally wide thumbprint on my soul. Isn't that the most wonderful thing about stories, that people you've never met can help shape our adult selves? Mother of Demons I often recommend for its SFF worldbuilding--Flint built a species with at least four genders, only some of which are reproductive, and associated "normal" sexual orientations, and then proceeded to write in a textually intersex character and queer the hell out of it.

1632, though, is the one where a little West Virginia town in 2000 gets picked up and dropped in the middle of Thuringia, Germany in the eponymous year--right in the middle of the Thirty Years War. The local United Mine Workers of America chapter plays a major role, particularly its head.

As I write this I'm listening to the scene where the little town of Grantville, having admitted after a few days that they are probably not ever going home, is crowded into the high school gymnasium listening to the mayor lay that reality out and suggesting an interim council to help the town set out a sort of constitutional convention so they can work out what on earth they're going to do moving forward--especially since there's a bunch of displaced refugees collecting in the forests nearby. Sensible of them, really; the Americans murdered the shit out of the local soldiers that displaced them, on account of how the shaken mine workers that went out to figure out WTF happened not being super down with suddenly running into a bunch of fuckheads raping the locals and torturing people to find out where their valuables might be. After that, said Americans proceeded to retreat into the town boundaries and gibber quietly to themselves. I would go lurk in their woods, too.

Anyway, the mayor sets up this proposal, everyone agrees, and a CEO who was visiting for his son's wedding at the time steps forward and says: look. I know how to lead, and I'm probably the most qualified person here. I lead a major industry corporation effectively and I did that after my time as a Navy officer. I put myself forward because I'm qualified. Now, we're going to need to circle the wagons to get through the winter, tighten our belts, but we can get through this. We can't support all these refugees, though; we'll have to seal the border so they can't bring disease--they're a drain on our resources we can't afford--

and the UMWA guy, he gets really mad listening to this. There's this Sephardic refugee woman he's real taken with who got swept up in the town first thing, and she's sitting in and listening; he's thinking about throwing her out, thinking about how much she knows about the place they're found in, and he's furious. But he gets a good grip on his anger and he marches up and he says, look. This dude has been here two days and he's already talking about downsizing?! You're going to listen to this CEO talking about cuts, cuts, cuts? Nah. Trying to circle the wagons is probably impossible, it's stupid, and if you think my men and I are going to enforce that, you can fuck off. That proposal is inside out and bass ackwards. We've got about a six mile diameter of Grantville here; how much food do YOU think we're going to grow? How about the soldiers wandering around, do you think we're going to be able to fight armies off on our lonesome? Look at the few refugees we already have in the room, they'll tell you how those armies will treat you! We could do it for a while, the amount of gun nuts here, but so what? We don't have enough people to shoot them! Not if we're going to do anything else to keep us going! We have about six months of stockpiled coal to keep going, and without another source or getting the coal mines working, we're screwed. We have technical strength but we don't have the supplies or resources we would need to maintain it. Those refugees? They're resources. We need people to do the work we will need to keep ourselves. The hell with downsizing; let's grow outwards! Bring people in, give them safety, see what they can bring to the table once they've had a moment! He invokes: send us your tired, your poor!, and the CEO yells in frustration: this isn't America! so he yells back "it will be!"

And of course everyone cheers. I love Flint for many reasons but he is unapologetic about affection for the America of ideals--ideals, he freely admits, that are often honored in the breach rather than the observance, ideals that are messy and flawed, but nevertheless ideals that can work to inspire us to become the best version of ourselves. For Flint, history is as valuable as a source of stories to inspire ourselves as it is a repository of knowledge, and on this I tend to agree with him. We must learn from our moments of shame but equally we must learn from moments that show us how to be our best selves.

It's been twenty three years and the text is now an interesting historical document in its own right, hitting points and rhythms in beats that are sometimes out of place today. It's not perfect. But the novel contains a commitment to joy and to emphasizing the leaps of faith and understanding that regular, everyday people make every day to try and support each other that I routinely try to match in my writing.

Anyway, one of the strengths of the novel, I think, is its gender politics: it's a very ensemble kind of novel, lots of characters, and it's preoccupied with positive masculinity in a lot of ways. There's a lot of these hyper masculine characters--Mike Stearns perhaps more than anyone else--and--and...

... And Flint's characterization of Stearns, as he sketches out who the man is--his pivotal American leader, ex boxer, working class organizer, big man.... well, it lands equally on "he is delighted and astonished to find a local woman who quickly assesses how the cushion of air in tires works," and "he considers who to set up a Jewish refugee in the middle of Germany up with and he thinks to ask the Jewish family he grew up with to host her and her ill father because he thinks she'll be most comfortable there", and "he views people as potential assets rather than potential drains." A younger man asks him for advice on whether to pursue a professional sports career because of the boxing and he says no, you're in the worst place of not being quite good enough and you'll blow out your knees without accomplishing safety. He frames that interaction such that he allows his own experiences to make him vulnerable and invite the younger man to understand when a struggle have worth it.

It's actually a really deft portrayal of intense masculinity that also makes a virtue of a bunch of traits more usually associated with women: empathy, relational sensitivity, the ability to listen. As a blueprint for what a positive masculinity can look like, vs the toxic kind, it's very well done. I think sometimes when we look at gender roles in terms of virtues, and when masculinity is defined in terms of opposition to femininity, people get lost by arguing that virtues assigned to one gender are somehow antithetical to another gender. In fact that's never been the case: virtues are wholly neutral and can appear in any gender. What the gender does is inflect the ways we expect that virtue to appear in terms of individuals' actions within their society.

Gender isn't purely an individual trait, basically; it's a product of our collective associations. Two characters with different genders can display the same virtues and strengths, but we imagine them expressed in different ways according to our cultural expectations around gender. And I just think that's neat.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

All Funk, No Punk - Still Hobart Brown

Gold chains instead of silver spikes. Gator shoes in place of thrifted boots. And an afro bigger than Hobie's -

Spider-Funk is Hobart Brown - Earth 831

Hobie Brown maybe Artie's chiller, rougher, and louder self - but somehow, they get on like a cop car on fire (or whatever the saying is).

And Artie Brown maybe Hobie's cockier, flirtier, and flashier self - but they just tell people they're twins.

Or at the very least - they call each other 'brotha' and 'bruv' all the time.

When people ask about the accent thing - you know, Artie being American, they say 'Ever seen The Parent Trap?'

[A LONG ASS post - Below is Artie's Origins, Fighting Style, Relationship to Hobie, and how he got recruited - All About the Brown Bros! Artie & Hobie, FunkPunk!]

It's Hobie 2 - Electric Bugaloo!

And just when Miguel thought he could only stomach one of them.

Though he calls himself the older brother, being born over a decade earlier, Artie is Hobie's less mature, more materialistic, but just as kind variant.

He's a pacifist instead of an anarchist - Full of Soul instead of bursting with Rock.

And he still hates cops.

Origins:

When Artie was drafted for the Vietnam War in 1969 - the first thing he did was burn his draft card. Then he joined the Black Liberation Army.

He wasn't the only one - Artie was part of the almost half a million draftees to do so.

And then President Osborn was elected.

To fill the gap in enlistment, Osborn came up with a solution.

V.E.N.O.M - A highly toxic, unfeelingly aggressive, and wildly bloodthirsty symbiote. A solution to the protests and draft dodgers.

Engineered by Oscorp - if you didn't induct yourself as a soldier, the V.E.N.O.M would make you one. And suddenly his friends were disappearing one by one.

A subtle but sudden-onset disease, the V.E.N.O.M variant was nearly undetectable, very persuasive, and incredibly effective.

More primal than animalistic, the symbiote's function didn't raise one's bloodlust, - instead it lowered, and at worse cancelled, your empathy. The symbiote subtly normalized dehumanization - attacking neurons in the cerebral cortex to destroy one's capability of empathy, compassion, and at times - recognizing faces. Able to follow commands without a second thought - the perfect soldier. Convincing the host of necessary order and their own biological superiority, over the course of 72 hours the host would lose their ability to recognize the people around them as anything other than sub-human. In 138, V.E.N.O.M turns you into an animal. In 831, V.E.N.O.M turns everyone around you into an animal.

It could make anyone into an unfeeling, unrelenting soldier - no guns needed.

The best of them got sent overseas to the War - and the rest, he turned on the people, hunting down all those who dared to dodge their call.

While on tour in DC, Artie was bitten by a radioactive spider, as he attempted to burn draft papers at a government facility.

He burned the papers. Plus he got some sick powers out of it. Plus Plus he gets to beat up The National Guard on a weekly basis. Ain't that a score.

And Hobie may hate the name Spider-Punk (or so he says), but Artie loves being Spider-Funk.

He calls them Funk & Punk. Hobie calls them that too, but like in a cool ironic way.

Artie & Hobie:

Personality:

Hobie knows that Artie is going through his 'Pavitr Phase', so he cuts him some slack. Artie's only been Funk for a year and some change.

He's got more Ws than Ls, so he's always one to be a bit cocky and reckless - though never at anyone's expense.

He's more talkative than Hobie - and WAY more flirty than Hobie, ready to wink at anyone willing to stare.

Like Hobie, Artie has his own groupies. And the pair on campus do get stares (and whispers. and giggles); Two 6'5 dudes with enough hair to cause an eclipse, walking around in loud ass boots, they're sure to draw attention.

Something Artie loves.

Artie considers himself a Ladies' Man. And a Man's Man. And what gender you have to offer really. (He's still a 'Hobie' - he doesn't discriminate)

He's got a waterbed in his boathouse, shag carpets, and wine at the ready. He loves sweet-talking people, and showering them in compliments. Whereas Hobie's love language is Physical Touch, Artie's is Words of Affirmation.

But all Hobie has to do is open his mouth and Be British and suddenly Artie's date is swooning and he's like 'Brotha, I'mma need you to shut the hell up for a second right quick.'

If you hang out with them, get ready for Hobie hanging off your shoulder, while Artie is in your ear complimenting your outfit.

Fighting:

Artie's fighting style is a lot more fluid than Hobie's with a lot of martial arts involved - similar to blaxploitation movies of the era.

Hobie thinks he looks bloody ridiculous meanwhile Artie is like 'if dem damn jeans weren't so tight maybe you could get like me and have some flair in your fight, my man.'

He also has an INCREDIBLY MEAN backhand.

Ideology:

The two of them are fairly close, hanging out with each other a lot. Though the two of them are fairly different. Artie is far more pacifist than Hobie, but that doesn't mean he's above violence.

He's just not one to talk about it, or threaten it. He's more of the 'let people talk - don't start none, won't be none'. Camp - and he'll almost never throw the first punch. Though he absolutely considers intimidation, selling hard drugs, and fucking with the general population 'starting some'.

Their ideology may clash heads everyone once in a while, but they hardly ever fight. At all. Instead, they have frequently heated, in-depth debates.

Artie may not be as radical or educated on things as Hobie, plus Hobie has ten years of extra history to pull from, but the two of them do it often, and it keeps them spry.

The only problem is, they get so into it, it SO HARD to understand what they're saying. Accents, slang, cutting each other off, roping other people into the conversation to back them up. It's WILD.

Artie is a lot more materialistic than Hobie. Not as critical of capitalism, Artie likes to game it rather than complain about it.

Unlike Hobie, Artie LOVES the finer things in life, and spoiling those around him. He likes gold over silver, and wears more rings than spikes.

He's a bit full of himself, and he carries a rag in his pocket to whip blood off his nice white boots. Something Hobie wouldn't be caught DEAD doing.

And Hobie clowns him for it everytime. Artie doesn't care. 'True playas never play sloppy.'

But how can he afford all of this? Well,

He's not as uhh,..honest as Hobie. But he has a heart of gold (get it?). And he never lies just to lie - if he's doing it, it's probably for work, or to Miguel, because he does not respect Miguel.

Artie be stealing. He's a master at sleight of hand. If it's a big corporation, it's free game. He never steals money - but to put it concisely: He's a smooth mfer.

He likes gold - he thinks it looks nice. But he knows for a fact that the worth of it is completely manufactured my human and capitalism, and that it's literally just a pretty metal.

He knows that paying hundreds for a chain or gold is exploitative, especially when it's stolen to begin with. So to him, it's justifiable, gimmie.

He also does it mostly for fun, a magic trick - in the same way Hobie makes stuff 'disappear' while talking to Miles, and doing hand tricks.

Artie does that, but more often, and more skillfully.

He doesn't do it all the time, but the first time he did it in front of Hobie - snatching Hobie's homemade watch of his wrist - Hobie was genuinely surprised.

Mostly he does it to make things disappear from your hand, parts he finds lying around, and playing pranks on people like Miguel. Generally, just being a lil shit.

He's a sweet-talker and a big steppa.

Unlike Hobie, Artie knows better than you force his way in. Artie slides in. He can talk them in to anywhere.

He'll pretend to be someone else, pretend to know someone else, steal passes and key cards to get in, and try to attack from the shadows when he can.

In battle, Spider-Punk is the louder, chattier, more immature one. And Spider-Funk is the chiller, sarcastic one.

Like twins, the two of them have their own in-jokes, and they hang at each other's places all the goddamn time. Though they live in different universes and decades, Artie & Hobie are kinda a package deal.

They may not always be together - they both got their own shit to do and they're not actually brothers - but if you hang with one, it's only a matter of time before you meet the other.

"Why is your brother American?" "Divorce." - "Adoption." ........ "Adoption." - "Divorce." "One of you or the both of you are lying."

Diane & Artie & Annie -

[This section is about my main OC Disco-Spider Diane, and her variant Annie P. Disco-Spider is Hobie's....something and they are happily....a something]

Every Hobart needs his Diane, and Artie is no different.

Artie & Diane:

And like usual, it all starts at the beginning.

Diane was the one to recruit Artie - because of course she was. And Lyla had told her two things: He was a guitarist, and his name was Artie. That's all she needed to know.

Lyla wanted it to be a surprise.

She snuck back stage to his show, brushed off the nearly palpable feeling of deja vu in the air, broke into his dressing room, and then tried to flirt him into joining the Society. Easy peasy.

Diane is a very oblivious woman. They spoke for nearly 10 minutes - and Artie decided to hear her out. He sat down on the couch in his dressing room, pulled back his hair and-

Diane goes -

"Hobie??? Is that you?! Oh my goodddd, you look so cute! Your hair!! Hobarrrrt - Why you ain't say nothing, had me standing here doing all this."

Speech completely forgotten. Mind you, she still hasn't explained anything. Diane is destined to freak out every Hobart she meets.

Artie is starting to think he should stop flirting with weird ass groupies that break into his dressing room.

Diane takes out her watch, the watch he doesn't know she has. She pulls up Lyla, the AI he doesn't know she has. And Diane asks her -

"Lyla! Does Artie stand for-" "It does!" "Oh my god!!! That makes this SO much easier! You're soo sweet, awww!!" "You know I saw the mission and thought of you-" "Am I on drugs right now?"

Needless to say - Diane's recruitment was successful.

Diane and Artie actually get on well, really well. Like weirdly well.

Artie and Diane are both extroverted, flirty, and a bit full of themselves. They're expressive, and more into their hair than they're willing to admit. They're perfect for each other - and people notice.

And Diane finds it a TAD BIT WEIRD

I mean, the differences between her and Hobie is what Diane loves about them - they're like sugar and spice, PB and J.

Sometimes Artie and Diane may accidentally finish each other's sentences - and Diane will be like 'Hey don't do that :)'. Other times, Artie will playfully be like 'Why are you standing so close to me, mama?' Just to piss her off.

Of course, Diane thinks he's 'cute'. But not Hobie Cute. And unfortunately, he 'speaks American'.

Besides, Hobie is the only Hobart for her.

Artie is definitely into Diane, but more in the 'she's a catch I would go for' kinda way. He did hit on her a couple times early on in their situation - but once she made it clear that she was 'seeing Hobie', he took the hint.

There's no jealously there - Hobarts are incapable of it. In fact, he's kinda proud the only other guy who could pull the hot girl is ..another him.

Now, Artie is a lot more like a big brother, kinda like the ones Diane grew up with in the Panther's house.

He's protective of her, in a 'Be mean to her and I'll deliver an ass whoppin on a plate' way. He thinks she's cute in the way a platonic sense, and finds her groupie mode to be as amusing as it is adorable.

It's ironic though that his ACTUAL girlfriend is - well, Diane's Opposite.

Artie & Annie:

[This section is shorter, and will be longer in Annie's post]

Diane Pastors is Annie P. is Mod-Spider.

Artie's girlfriend, Annie is the farthest thing from Diane while somehow still being just as big of a diva.

An avid feminism campaigner and modern woman, she would never be caught DEAD hanging off of Artie like that. And she can't stomach Diane all that much.

Hobie, Annie HATES. And not in a coy way. She thinks he's obnoxious - she calls him a poseur. She thinks he's a scrub.

Her & Artie are in a committed relationship - officially boyfriend and girlfriend. And instead of Annie, Artie is the one who wears her name on a chain.

Just like Diane and Hobie, Annie and Artie have a musical duo - called ModFunk.

We're almost done I PROMISE.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Random Details:

Artie's design is an inverted version of Hobie's, but it's also inspired heavily by Jimi Hendrix, mainly this photo on the left.

Right is an example of Artie's Style. His universe has a paint-marker aesthetic, a lot more colorful and soft than Hobie's, with dripping paint and splatters, but it tones down a lot - like Gwen's.

Artie plays Soul, Jazz, and Funk.

He has a band with his version of Daredevil, Felicia Hardy, and Captain Anarchy.

Artie has killed cops - and soldiers before. But he doesn't see it as a big deal. He hates cops, but he doesn't focus on it. He doesn't discriminate. Ass Whoopin's for everybody.

He DOES pull his hair back, his face isn't covered all the time. Maybe 80% of the time.

He can get around with Spidey Sense, so he doesn't care much - he loves his fro and is always picking it out.

He Pavitr are like best friends. Pavi and The Brown Twins get LOUD AS HELL when all together.

Gwen thinks he's an absolute goofball - So Artie tries his best to make her laugh. She seems like she needs it.

When not on stage and in battle, he prefers to play an acoustic guitar, which Hobie doesn't like playing. His acoustic is also blue.

Him and Hobie can play on each other's guitars, but it sounds very trippy, and VERY VERY weird, abnormally so.

If their heads are covered, or hair done like each other's, they can seamlessly pass as each other.

Hobie SUCKS at an American accent - but somehow, he can mimic Artie's perfectly.

It's the same for Artie - sucks at British, but can speak like Hobie.

He loves chocolate candy bars, Hobie likes fruity candy.

They do write songs together and go to each others shows, though they don't ever really perform together.

They wrestle A LOT

Artie is a genius as well, and they work on mechanics together, Artie is great at math specifically.

He and Hobie do each others hair care and help oil each other's scalps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So uh.....that's Artie :) The guy

If you made it this far THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ENTERTAINING ME - Artie platonically gives you a red rose.

ALSO TELL ME Why I tried to draw him like Jimi Hendrix But he looking like the Jackson 5 IM SO SORRY YALL

Here's OG Hobie as a thank you! Just imagine two Hobarts standing on either side of you both tall and with big hair and touchy and talkative as fuck Diane is living the DREAM let your OCs be happy

Bye.

[gemsofgreece]

Hello! Do you (and other Greeks) find "Hellenic polytheism" an acceptable term for the religion worshipping the ancient Greek gods? If not, what would you want people to call it instead? I feel strongly that I would not be able to change my belief itself, but I definitely want to be respectful in what I call it and my other actions

Hellenic Polytheism should be fine. You can introduce yourself as a Hellenic Polytheist.

People have a bit of a hard time with this hell of terms (get it? he he), so I am gonna create a mini-lexicon. It's not targeted to you in specific to use all these, it's just for whoever is interested to clear this up in their minds.

A very hellenic lexicon

Hellás = 1) the official term for Greece and the only one ever used by Greeks themselves (there is no equivalent of "Greece" in Greek), 2) a historical ancient region in central mainland Greece where southeast Epirus and southwestern Thessaly meet and where a lot of Achilles' soldiers supposedly originated from, 3) the administrative region of central mainland Greece during the Byzantine Empire

Hellenic = anything Greek (like you may say "this is an american movie", that's why you can use hellenic polytheism, because it means "greek religion of many gods"). And by anything Greek, we mean ANYTHING. Care to know what the "Greek Orthodox Church" is called in Greek?

You guessed it! Hellenic Orthodox Church...! So you see, how when foreigners say some things like "i'm hellenic, hellene, hellenist" like "what hellenic are you? coffee? bank? Christian?" You know?

Hellen = the mythological progenitor of the Greeks according to Hesiod. Not to be confused with Helen.

Héllene = a Greek by descent, nationality and / or ethnicity. And if we are being totally accurate, it's a Greek male. I don't actually know how it is pronounced in English but ideally keep the last e silent. (By the way we do not pronounce that h in the beginning in all these words for the last 1500 years or so.... just saying.)

Héllenes = the Greeks, just men or mixed. The last e is NOT silent.

English does not have gendered nouns but Greek does so technically there is a seperate word for Greek women but I don't know if this is transferable to English. If we could do it in theory and by following the trasliteration style of the Hellene, it should be something like:

*Hellenís / Hellenidae or Hellenides = Greek woman / women*

Hopefully this explains why random foreigners identifying as "Hellenes" is exremely problematic.

Helladic = pertaining to the geography and territory of Hellas and whatever happens strictly within its borders

Hellenisation = spread of Greek influence and culture, it is also used for cases of Greek assimilation in ancient times

Hellenistic = 1) something being characterized by particular Greek influence, 2) referring to the era after the Classical period and before the Roman period

Hellenicá = 1) the Greek language, 2) (infrequent) Greek matters, documented topics about the Greeks

Hellenism = The complete Greek culture, civilization and nationhood, the essence of being Greek.

Hellenist = 1) a specialist in the study of Greek language, literature, culture, or history, or an admirer of the Greek culture and civilization, 2) a person who adopted the Greek customs, language and culture during the Hellenistic period, 3) now, the English Wiktionary also adds the "a follower and practitioner of Hellenic religion" <- which one of the two??? XD, clearly following the trend of western classicist circles. In the Greek Wiktionary for the same exact term (Ελληνιστής) that last interpretation does not exist and I can guarantee you it is officially rejected. Here's why: the suffixes -ist and -ism (as well as all suffixes here) are suffixes of Greek origin and they signify that someone is something or is passionate and dedicated to something on the superlative or very very earnestly, essentially. So when someone says they are a hellenist, they are supposed to be dedicated or charmed by anything that makes something hellenic, not to be professional cherry pickers. Of course, everyone is allowed their preferences, however you can't be interested in a super specific / niche thing like a religion mostly practiced 2000-3500 years ago and simultaneously show complete disregard and ignorance on literally everything else about this civilization, history and its living people and call yourself a hellenist. It tears the word apart. By the way this is not targeted at you. You are here asking about it, wanting to do the right thing. I am referring to this thing happening in this forum that @alatismeni-theitsa 's Anon was complaining about; they obsess over the ancient religion and they hate everything Greek post the AD mark. That's not being a Hellenist. That's not a Hellenism forum. That's the exact opposite in fact. Very few people can correctly claim the term "hellenist".

BONUS: Philhellene is kind of synonym to "hellenist" and it means "friend / lover of the Hellenes and all things hellenic". But again it can surely be misused. Not all self-proclaimed Philhellenes were ones indeed. Some, like Lord Byron, were Philhellenes through and through, on the other hand.

Of course, one definitely does not have to go through what Lord Byron and other great Philhellenes of the 19th century went through to prove they are a Hellenist or a Philhellene! My point is that very very few people can correctly claim the identity of a Philhellene or a Hellenist.

Therefore, "Hellenic polytheist" is just fine.

[evangelina830]

Meet the Bandit!

(RP Blog for them!)

Name: Evan

Age: 23

Weight: 112 lbs

Height: 5’0”

Role: support

Ethnicity: Mexican/American

Origin: California, USA

Primary: Machine pistol

Secondary: RPG

Melee: Bowie Knife

Speed: 95%

HP: 150

Personality:

Despite sneaking around, being apart of their stealing technique, they have a usual very silly personality similar to Scout, except without such a big ego and a try-hard habit for women. They joke around a lot, and sometimes get loud depending on their mood.

Abilities:

Stealing

Trading

Sneaking

Likes:

Piano

Art

Comics

Animals

Making deals/Money

Dislikes:

Tomatoes

Big bodies of water

Backstory: as a baby, they were picked up off the side of the road, but they looked a little strange. Growing up in California, they were raised by a family of one mother, six sisters and one brother, being the third oldest of the group. They wear a human disguise because they are a secret alien shapeshifter exploring earth! (They are actually born from Venus…)

Appearance:

Evan’s brown eye color matches their hair, although Eva’s eyes are a lighter brown.

Both of their hair is the same brown, but a blue and red/pink ombré.

BLU bandit, aka Evan, has somewhat crooked teeth (and find the excuse to wear their scarf more often to hide it. Mostly, to hide their smile). But Eva’s teeth are straighter, being the cloning process. Evan also has rather sharp canines.

Both bandits have beauty marks (moles) in the same spots.

Eva’s skin is slightly darker than Evan’s due to being in the sun more

Red bandit’s hair is a bit straighter, and shorter In the back. Blu bandit’s hair is more wavy

Facts:

both Bandit’s use they/them pronouns.

The BLU Bandit is actually the original, the RED being the true clone. Both bandits often, casually, switch teams because they get along with them better. They only kill their friends on the battlefield. (My headcanon is that the blue team is all clones of the red team, being born into the mindset of war, which is why some mercenaries may be more serious than the RED team.)

A strange fact about Eva, is that during Evan’s cloning, they were recognized as a human, therefor, they are not an alien like the BLU Bandit.

Eva is rather monotone and speaks a lot less than Evan. Although, they are kinder if you get to know them, despite looking angry as a resting face.

Evan has a tortoiseshell cat named Molly, back at home

They shake violently when having caffeine, and since they have anxiety they either get a burst of energy, or get anxious (choosing to ease their nerves by running or dancing), so they ‘aren’t allowed’ to have it, but would do anything to get their hands on coffee cause they love the taste.

Oddly enough, BLU Bandit melts (literally) when they feel a strong emotion (like nervousness, excitement, or extreme pain - so they often melt when they die during battle), but it’s somehow a normal thing to the others. (Melts into a puddle, but always returns in one piece)

Relationships:

Scout: He’s just too much similar to Bandit. They often bicker (usually in a playful way). Though sometimes, they like to talk about comics together.. they have a relationship similar of siblings.

[Bandit calls Scout; Chucklehead (to mock him), Jerms, Jay. Scout calls Bandit; Bandy, four eyes, amigo (to mock them), Copy-cat, Ban-Ban]

Their duo name would be called Comic Twins

Pyro: Bandit and Pyro love to craft together! Even if it’s with the blood and guts of their enemies. Evan is also a good translator to his mumbling.

[Bandit calls Pyro; mumbles, py, señor loco]

Their duo name would be called Gender who? (Lol)

Soldier: These two often play fight like animals, but Bandit teases him more than actually doing something. They bond over their love for raccoons and rockets! Bandit sees him like an uncle or a ‘stupid older brother’.

[Bandit calls Soldier; Solly, Sol, Jay-Dee, soldado, sky man. Solly calls Bandit; Rookie, Rocket pal, cadet, sneaky little thief]

Their duo name would be called Raccoon Rockets

Demoman: they are Very close with him - If Demoman isn’t with Solly, he’s with Bandit or both of them! And Bandit seems to have a little crush.. they exchange platonic kisses sometimes and play piano together, but perhaps it’s a bit more than friendly.

[Bandit calls Demoman; Demo, Guapo, Tav, Dee, Tavish-ing (like ravishing). Demo calls Bandit; Bandy, lad, Bonnie, Bee (to mimic the way they give nicknames), Ev]

Their duo name would be called Piano 4 Hands!

Heavy: Bandit and Heavy have a family like relationship. Like they do to others, bandit likes to mess with him, but he doesn’t react as much as the rest do. So taking that into consideration, Bandit is calmer around him and nicer.

[Bandit calls Heavy; Señor viejo, H, pesado, Hev. Heavy calls Bandit; маленький вор, подлый енот, small Bandit]

Their duo name would be called Sticks and stones

Engineer: The last thing this Engineer needs is for a sneaky thief to steal parts of his machines! He gets frustrated with them sometimes, but they’ve got a silly thing going on. Bandit sees Engi like an uncle, and he sees them like an annoying little nephew.

[Bandit calls Engi; ingeniero, Engi, Dell pepper, robot man. Engi calls Bandit; Bandy, little thief, Ban, sneaky trash panda]

Their duo name would be called Astronomical Smarts

Sniper: While sniper studies aliens, it doesn’t help that he works with one, though he doesn’t know for sure (even though he’s correct). Bandit knows of this, since Sniper sometimes tries to call them out, but they ignore it, protecting their secret, by playing it off as a joke. Besides that all, they’re quite good friends.

[Bandit calls Sniper; Monday, francotirador, Snipes, Em, Vanny, hombre sucio. Sniper calls Bandit; Bandy, crook, Space-man, sneaky critter]

Their duo name would be called Alien Exploration

Medic: The Medic may be the only one Bandit is afraid of, just a little. Half of their interactions are passive-aggressive. Though, on some occasions they get along relatively well, and like to talk about silly things.

[Bandit calls Medic; Doctor, El, Doctor L, lewd-wig (to immaturely mock his wild behavior, and name). Medic calls Bandit; hinterhältiger Dieb, kleine Ratte]

Their duo name would be called Anxiety diagnosis

Spy: Their favorite thing to do is talk about romance and banter about how more sneaky one is. And sometimes, they secretly gossip to one another…

[Bandit calls Spy; Spy-der, French fry, espiar, Señor, hombre cangrejo. Spy calls Bandit; petit voleur, Monsieur?, Thief, raton laveur sournois]

Their duo name would be called sneaky Romanticists

Pauling: Bandit has always admired Miss Pauling, and even hates when Scout flirts with her. Not because of jealously or anything of the like, but because they’re aware there’s a much better method to charming a woman like her and it’s almost offensive how he always fails (LOL). The two are friends that don’t interact so often, but bandit respects her

[Bandit calls Pauling; Señora, Pauli, señorita violeta, Señora P.]

Their duo name would be called Cat-Eye lenses!

[yourdailyqueer]

Sarah Ashton-Cirillo

Gender: Transgender woman

Sexuality: N/A

DOB: 9 July 1977

Ethnicity: White - American

Occupation: Journalist, writer, soldier, combat medic, activist

Note: Starting in March 2022, reported on the Russian invasion of Ukraine from Kharkiv, Ukraine, often writing about the war's effect on LGBTQ people. As a trans woman, she is thought to have been the first openly transgender war correspondent and the only transgender journalist covering the invasion.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Our hero, Major John Sheppard is stationed at McMurdo base in Antarctica at the start of the series. We learn that he likes it there. Sheppard himself tells Teyla in Sateda (S03E04): "Well, that [having no social skills] is why I enjoyed flying choppers in the most remote part of my world before all this craziness."

This is what John Sheppard tells us but we learn that what he tells us is not always the truth and certainly not the whole truth.

The alien AI that created a hallucination from Sheppard's own subconscious in Remnants (S05E15) poses him the question: "You're either someone with a death wish or someone running away from something. So tell me: what are you running away from?" Running away to the most remote part of his world, running away to another galaxy.

In fact, he has both been banished to and self-isolated in the most remote part of his world ("You torture yourself every day, John.") due to his "black mark" acquired in Afghanistan. We are never explicitly told what this black mark was, only that it bothered Gen. O'Neill and was something that Dr. Weir could live with. We are left wondering.

While we are shown something of what happened in Afghanistan during the episode Phantoms (S03E09), through the hallucinations from Sheppard's past of him failing to save Capt. Charlie Holland, it isn't until toward the end of the series that we find out what happened through the mirror of a parallel reality in Vegas (S05E19), where alt!Rodney tells us "You were a helicopter pilot in Afghanistan but were dishonourably discharged for disobeying orders and trying to rescue a field medic trapped behind enemy lines. You were shot down – obviously survived, but unfortunately the crash killed four American soldiers along with eight civilians. You avoided jail time; the record was sealed for various political reasons."

The field medic in the Vegas-verse, one where "infinite variations of our own known reality where alternate versions of you and I play out events", is female; this revealed in a mumbled 'ur' (I didn't even catch it on first viewing even though I knew about the gender swap in advance; it might just as well have been "knew 'em") in alt!Rodney's line: "That field medic – the one you defied orders to go back and try and rescue. You knew her personally. You were... involved."

This was one of the differences between the two realities, perhaps even the most defining one of them, the point of divergence.

Vegas Sheppard dies to the tune of Johnny Cash's Solitary Man because that's what he was, a recluse (and note that the importance of Johnny Cash was underlined in the episode by Sheppard taking nothing but his poster, the same Johnny Cash poster that our Sheppard had in his quarters for all of the five years, with him once he walked away from his job; it carries weight):

I know it's been done havin' one girl who loved me Right or wrong, weak or strong Don't know that I will, but until I can find me The girl who'll stay and won't play games behind me I'll be what I am

But our Sheppard is not a Solitary Man (he has self-confessedly found something of a family in Pegasus). He's the Man in Black (in fact, he is dressed in black throughout the series even in situations where other fatigues would have made more sense; it is only in the very last episode that we see him in lighter colours):

I'd love to wear a rainbow every day And tell the world that everything's okay But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back 'Til things are brighter, I'm the man in black

We know the background. When the series begun, DADT was still in full effect, the franchise had a long-standing co-operation with the USAF, Prop 8 was still several years into the future. The non-normative sexual orientation of an All-American Action Hero was never going to be main-text. Even heterosexual romance between characters was mostly eschewed by the franchise. But damn if the subtext doesn't lay it out thick for us.

There are so many obvious parallels and comparisons in the show that I need to write them down somewhere, and while this is a day late and a dollar short, this fandom could do with some meta. So this marks the beginning of my journey through Stargate Atlantis with an eye on its bisexual protagonist.

[rodolfoparras]

OK imma be honest and little personal, before I knew a little bit more about the LGBT, I just didn't care I just knew they existed, now that im older and apart of it nothing changed ngl...just maybe a little rude with it. I'm like "Oh you're gay? Cool want a cookie?" Or "Oh, you think being gay is the devils or whoever you claim doing? Want a medal?". I don't mind having people like having something for them but a month? Sounds like robbery 2 me like, What about soldiers like I mean the good soldiers who actually fight for their people? I'm sorry, but if I could, I would make certain... things like these two have at least a week, but like I said, I don't mind it... I just find it... wrong in a way...like think about it...when something big happens in your life (if yall do it like me) we just celebrate it in like that first week, like what I mean is for the first few days it's all "WOOHOO THIS HAPPEND TOO YOU" then the rest of the week it's just "congrats". Like I remember a few years back, I'm not sure if it's still the same now. But soldiers die every day and stuff, and all they get is a day, and everyone like "poor soliders rest in peace" and then go on about their lives after a few bours or something . But the moment a Trans person got killed, suddenly everyone dropped everything and talked about it for weeks....trying not to sound harsh, but come on....

Sugar I think you have a lot of inner work to do

Pride month cannot be boiled down to a celebratory party of sexualities and genders

While yes a major part of pride month is to celebrate lgbtq people it’s also about remembering the journey as to how we got here, plenty of people literally laid their lives down so there could be a celebration in the first place sugar I don’t know if you know this but trans people would literally use bricks and drop it onto their genitals or their chest to get rid of those parts, a lot of trans people died of cancer and other terminal illnesses because it was considered shameful to treat an openly trans person no matter what severe condition they had it’s also to raise awareness of how lgbtq people of color made a lot of things possible for us, did you know that before colonization native people had woman man and then a third gender that didn’t fall in either category white, Christian cis people wiped that out because it was considered abnormal and now today we have a whole chunk of people who are seen as abnormal because that whole gender identity has been wiped out pride month is to also raise awareness to everyone who can’t live their lives like they want to. It’s like international women’s day just because women in Europe have it good doesn’t mean that it’s fine and dandy all around the world

The reason as to why people don’t care much for soldiers is that the only ones discussed are American ones- soldiers belonging to armys who have more or less started the war in different places. Never have I seen people discuss the 10.000 soldiers that died in the srebrenica genocide - soldiers- boys 18 year old boys 10.000 of them- that had to forcefully enlist in the army because their country was going through a genocide

And the reason as to why trans people get so much coverage once they get killed is the same reason as to why women get so much coverage when they get horrifically murdered by a man they’re oppressed, soldiers are not oppressed soldier more often than not are the oppressors.

With that being said I do hope you take time to actually do research on your history because the reason as to why you can be like “woo I’m gay ok let’s move on with my day” is because of thousands upon thousands upon thousands lgbtq ppl that made sacrifices for you those sacrifices didn’t happen that long ago

[paradlselost]

i am so glad im finding another person who writes for far cry :)) if possible, can we see a jacob seed x gn!deputy who replaces pratt as his prisoner? it ends with jacob being their one and only, (even if its dubcon)

WIND — UP TOY

jacob seed x gn!deputy

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ ty for being my first submission ! jacob and his region lowkey scare the shit out of me lmao 🙏 kinda a little fucked up but I mean it’s jacob seed . also sorry this took so long ); smut below the cut

no use of y/n , reader is referred to as ‘ deputy ’ . gender specific nicknames are replaced by ‘ pup ’ . not beta - read

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ blasphemy , deputy is treated like a dog , implied forced cannibalism , implied death of a minor character , brainwashing , jacobs his own warning isn’t he ? smut : dub - con , degrading , oral ( m receiving ) , soft - ish sex , penetration , dacryphillia , one - sided orgasm .

It always crept up on him when he least expected it; when things began to have a sense of normalcy. His days a haze and his nights clouded with gunfire and explosions, dreams marred with blood and the guts of former comrades and men who died far too young. For what?

What is the American dream when the world is going to end anyways? What are the soldiers overseas fighting for when the rivers will soon flow with blood and the ground tarred with ash?

His hand runs over his face; rubbing tired eyes. Demons of his past prey on him while he sleeps, turning him weak. Two to three hours is good enough for him, leaves him rested enough for his eyes to focus on the maps in front of him.

Being the leader of the army of Eden’s Gate wasn’t an easy job, though he held it with pride - a cardinal sin - but Joseph would forgive him as long as the prophecies his little brother had bouncing around his head came true. Jacob didn’t know if he believed in anything, really, it was hard to imagine God was with the soldiers that clutched cross pendants behind HESCO barriers.

But where he might’ve drifted from the true meaning of the cause further and further, where he might’ve argued the existence of a higher power with Joseph; one thing grounded him to his purpose and place in the cult. The Deputy.

Joseph’s ramblings were insane to the layman and gospel to the believer - but it seemed right now they were damn prophetic. Everything he said the Deputy would do; they did, and left bodies in their wake. Sometimes, he would watch whatever the cameras picked up of them on his screens, how they traversed the Whitetails with an almost practiced knowledge.

Sometimes, he felt like the eighteen year old new enlistee again when he watched them. The blood, the gunfire. Jacob Seed was a tough man, righteous and brave, but he would look down at them in their cage and feel the fire on his skin from the ranch he burned all those years ago.

He hated the feeling, wanting to drive his pocket knife into his chest and carve out every semblance of memory he had. But then his music box would rewind, and he would hear the sweet sound of the Platters crooning through the wood and metal and maybe, just maybe, things would be okay for him.

So he watched the way the Deputy writhe behind those thick steel bars against the cold soil, not afforded the luxuries even the most depraved prisoners received. Weak and idiotic for attempting to save their friend; but a mind that could be molded with the right tune.

Staci Pratt was a good pet; Pavlovian in nature and willing to do anything for the oldest Seed brother, so maybe that’s why Jacob began to grow bored of the man. Maybe that’s why he entertained the cracks beginning to show in the conditioning, how Pratt’s eyes softened at the sight of their co-worker being taunted by the Herald and yet knowing there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

An escape plan, of course he knew about it, he had eyes and ears everywhere and could always tell when one of his dogs stepped out of line. A perfectly timed truck, the siren going off to alert that a prisoner had escaped, catching Pratt as he allowed the Deputy to leave without him. It was almost sweet, but moreover vomit-inducing, like a lamb.

Sheep are creatures controlled by their own nature, that’s why dogs have to herd them back into formation - like a general in charge of new recruits. Intolerables are discharged, lambs are taken to the slaughterhouse. Nature, the circle of life, the bad meat is thrown out for the poor and needy to pick through.

“Eat. You wouldn’t want to fall sick, would you?”

A tin was placed in front of the Deputy, they had been through this before. Starved for however many days Jacob deemed necessary - usually ten - before they are given nothing but raw meat to eat. Never did they think they would yearn for the peanuts and beer served at the Spread Eagle, but there was no position to argue about what they were being given here.

Some fell over the side as greedy hands shoveled clump after clump into their mouth, covering it in a pitiful yet successful attempt to keep it down. Never did they ask what kind of meat it was, choosing to instead assume it was from one of the many cow farms in the valley.

“You’re hungry, aren’t ya, pup? You’re lucky, that’s a nice cut of meat.” A grin played on his face as he leaned against the metal bars, fingers grazing over his music box. There wouldn’t be any culling today, no, he had a much better idea in mind.

“Where’s Pratt?”

“Not even a thank you for my generosity, aren’t you fierce?”

“Where is he?”

“Peaches’s little act of rebellion earned him a punishment, I mean; that’s only fair. In a war like this you can’t go sympathizing with the devil, no matter how well you knew them before.”

It’s not an answer, but there’s an unspoken understanding that that is the closest thing the Deputy will get to knowing. A huff falling from their lips, ever the ungrateful dog; but their bowl is licked clean and what more can Jacob ask for?

A soft tsk fell from his lips, cold and condescending because how could he be anything but? Did the thing below him deserve care and kindness? Maybe at some point when they were strong, when their mind was still their own, but now they were nothing but a lamb being fattened for the slaughter.

His fingers grasped their chin, forcing eye contact and no doubt leaving marks that would form bruises. How much had they been through? Chest slashed with the markings from Jacobs little brother and mind already foggy from the bliss that grew in the Henbane; but there was a certain pride he took in being the one to break them.

How much time had passed? Had anyone come looking for them? Jacob had often taunted them, used the fact that they were immobile against the conditioning he had given them to contact anyone. The rebellion would fall without their snake, maybe it already had, how would the Deputy know?

It wasn’t their place to think anymore, to simply let the oldest Herald put a leash around their neck and sit beside like a good dog. Their mind wasn’t their own, now it belonged to him and they had no room to complain.

“Look at’chu, open your mouth.” But he didn’t wait for them to comply, instead he bullied his fingers against their tongue, exploring over their gums and teeth. They could bite him, certainly, but they didn’t - wouldn’t.

Who was Jacob Seed but their owner? He had saved them from themselves, from the blood and the gore and the fire that threatened to burn the world to nothing but ashes. Joseph had greeted them in their new form, John had shown up to pout, but their eyes only ever stayed on the eldest.

“Such a good pup, ‘ did a wonderful job training you, huh?” He asked as if they could answer, as if they weren’t preoccupied by the fingers that traced their mouth like he was mapping them out.

A hum passed from his lips as he removed his fingers, instead moving to undo the buckle on his belt. Even in this state, the Deputy wasn’t stupid and could very clearly tell what was coming next. So, to hopefully avoid any wrath from him, moved to help undo his pants.

Leaning back in his chair and observing as they removed his pants, fingers trailing over the growing bulge in his boxers. Jacob was a stoic man, never did the Deputy know if they were really doing good, but he didn’t scold them so there was no stopping.

Hands smoothed out the black fabric a bit nervously, playing with the hem for a moment before a soft grunt from the Herald alerted them. Knowingly, their fingers hooked underneath the waistband and pulled it away from his freckled skin, letting it pool at his ankles along with his pants.

Wrapping around the base of his still hardening cock, their eyes fluttered up to meet his gray ones. A silent beg, a plea that they were doing alright and there would be no punishment later. All they got in return was a small nod; though there was no love or care behind it. More like a drill sergeant instructing a particularly moldable soldier.

Gentle, unsure licks placed against his tip, hand working against the base; fingers brushing against veins that worked overtime to pump blood to his dick. Jacob Seed was not one for taking his sweet time, his fingers tangled in their hair as he pushed their head down on his aching cock.

A soft gag fell from their lips, hands moving from him to settle on his toned thighs. A heavy breath leaving their nose as they tried their hardest to relax, nuzzling against his untamed ginger hair. He relished in the warmth of their throat, the tightness eliciting a groan as he pushed his hips up.

Their gagging was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, the soft whimpers and tears that emitted from the Deputy as they tried their hardest to just breathe through their nose. He loved the power he held over them, how those pretty tears fell for him.

“Cmon pup, look up at me.”

Fighting between lifting their head to meet his gaze and keeping their mouth wrapped around his cock, the Deputy managed to tilt their head up enough to see him. His smirk widened, cock throbbing against their throat as he watched the tears continue to fall from them.

Another few thrusts to the back of their throat before he groaned, pulling their head off his dick with a small ‘pop’. A trail of saliva still connected their lips, pre-cum mixed in with it. He couldn’t help the laugh that emitted from him at the sight of their swollen lips and heavy breathing.

“Poor thing. Don’t cry, I take care of you, don’t I?”

The Deputy couldn’t do anything but nod, and maybe it was a bit true. Jacob did care for them in his own sick and twisted way. In the back of their mind they wondered if this was how he treated Pratt behind close doors; more like a prized trophy than a lover.

His hands grabbed at their hips, pulling them onto his lap. The small barrier of whatever clothes they had been wearing on their lower half before was quickly removed, giving him access to everything he wanted.

Burying their face into the crook of his neck and wrapping arms around the back of him, the Herald lifted their hips once more to guide himself inside their needy hole before pushing them down onto him. Stretching, pain emanating from the sudden intrusion, he could feel the tears that fell from them and landed against his skin.

He cooed, a grin still wide on his face. His hands still settled on their hips, guiding them up and down on his cock. Gentle movements at first that quickly devolved to an almost feral extent. His pre-cum marred the inside of their hole, creating wet and sticky sounds everytime he fucked in and out of them.

It felt like a dam was about to break by the time Jacob decided he was finished. Loud sobs wracked their body as they cuddled closer to him, so close yet so far. His hips continued to move for a moment; stuttering and shifting a bit before he released inside of them, filling them with his cum.

The Deputy finally leaned back after a moment, tears still flowing from their now red eyes, sniffling - but they still attempted to move their hips over him. To get any kind of release as the Herald caught his breath. Needily grinding against his lap, hands clutching his shirt in a pitiful attempt that only made him laugh more.

“Oh, look at’chu. Pup needs to get off too, huh? Don’t worry, I told you I’ll take care of you.”

[feralrabidcrow]

My Merc LGBTQ Headcanons

Disclaimer: my headcanons aren't set in stone so these are like, what I assume them to be in the average fic I write unless stated otherwise. For example, usually I headcanon Medic as bisexual, but I might make him gay in an AU if I want to explore that instead. And I might make a merc I usually headcanon as cis trans if that's a story I want to explore with them.

Scout: Bisexual and hasn't quite come to terms with it yet. He has a strong preference for women, but being stuck living closely with a bunch of men definitely has him experiencing thoughts he never did before.

Soldier: Transgender and technically bisexual, but he thinks he's straight because he considers having sex with Demoman every night 'masculine male bonding to strengthen our manly friendship'. Demoman doesn't have the heart to tell him that yeah, it's pretty gay. He's trans because the hypermasculine American patriot named Jane Doe of all things is just Valve spoonfeeding transgenderism to me. I also like to entertain the idea that he's forgotten that he's trans (lead poisoning) and regularly breaks into the medbay screaming at Medic about how the communists stole his penis until Medic finally gives up and just gives him bottom surgery.

Pyro: Genderqueer butch lesbian who uses any and all pronouns.

Demoman: Pansexual, it makes no difference to him what gender his lovers are. I think he's known this for a long time too, no sexuality awakening that caused him any turmoil, just always knew that he didn't have a preference.

Heavy: Gay, and unlike Demoman, he definitely did not know until very late in his life. After joining Team Fortress, to be exact. After meeting Medic, to be exactly exact. Living in isolation for so long definitely stunted his ability to explore his sexuality. He had a 'crush' on a girl when he was about 6, but he only liked her because she had red hair that he thought was pretty. Looking back, it meant about as much as a crush when you're 6 can be expected to mean. He always assumed that the reason he didn't feel a desire to find a woman and settle down, like his mother always hoped he would, was because he hadn't met enough women to want such a thing, and if he did meet the right woman, that's when the feeling would click. Then the feeling ended up clicking instead with a maniacal doctor who liked putting black market zoo organs in him.

Engineer: Biromantic and sex neutral asexual. He always assumed he just liked women, simply because he didn't realize he could like both. After Medic told him that he liked both women and men, things started making a lot more sense. He can handle being in some specific sexual situations, but he refuses to be on the receiving end of anything, and exclusively gives.

Medic: Bisexual, reciprosexual/recipromantic. In simpler terms, Medic does not feel romantic or sexual attraction to anyone unless he knows for certain that they're attracted to him first. As a result, he has never made a first move in his life, and is also sometimes very bad at picking up on romantic advances unless they're extremely blunt.

Sniper: Gay, I don't really know what else to say he just gives me huge homo vibes. He probably got a mindblowing handjob from a bloke behind a Macca's that changed his life or something. Yes I think high-tech TF2 Australia that's basically a spoof of Wakanda still has Macca's why wouldn't they.

Spy: Bisexual, I'm going to be honest I don't spend a lot of time thinking about Spy's sex life but he definitely fucks men look at him just look at him. He's fucking men. And Scout's mother but also men.

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Taken (Ghost/Reader)

CW: knife wounds, hostage situations, sharing clothes/bed, alcohol, vaginal sex, oral (giving & receiving), fingering

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader, They/Them Briefly Used

WC: 5.9k

The city's outskirts were draped in a blinding sheet of sand and dust. Gunfire rang out from the concrete buildings. Between an alleyway ducked a masked figure, finger on the trigger as he cleared out the buildings. He pushed through abandoned room after abandoned room, only ever coming across discarded cans and abandoned supplies. The radio clipped onto his vest hummed with static. He glanced back over his shoulder as he traversed the sector alone. Gunfire erupted from the east, earning a quick glance out the window as he advanced. Aching hands held his rifle steady. His chest steadily rose and fell as he evened out his breathing. Even after years of experience, the nerves still got to him.

“West end secured,” a voice said over the radio. He brought the device to his covered lips, pushing down with his index finger. 

“Copy, almost done here,” he said, clipping the radio back to his vest. Muffled cries drew his attention. He pushed himself against the wall. He aimed the barrel of his rifle toward the doorway as he quickly moved through—another empty room. More soft cries came from down the hallway. He thought as he cleared out a closet. The voice was far too high to be a man. Maybe a woman, maybe a child. Giving another glance to his rear, he entered the hallway. His boots clicked against the concrete. As he approached the end of the corridor, his eyes locked onto a single door cracked open just a hair. He swiftly pushed the door open, checking every corner of the room, and then behind the door. Everything was clear, except for the person chained to the wall. 

Cloaked in just a single oversized tee stained with blood and dirt, was what looked to be an adult female. The cuffs were placed just high enough that they couldn’t even rest on their heels. They stood in a puddle of urine, skin covered in deep purple bruises. He looked up at their terrified eyes. 

“Please, I'm an American soldier,” they said in a hoarse voice. “My partner and I were captured.”

His brows furrowed as he looked the alleged soldier up and down. Stepping forward, he did a quick pat down of the hostage. He tugged their shirt up after palpating a soft mass. The skin of their abdomen was littered with more scars and bruises. Sitting above their right hip was a messy pile of bloodied gauze taped to their skin. That was the only other thing they were wearing. Quickly pulling the shirt down and turning away, he spoke. 

“Any ID on you?” He asked. 

“My, my unit number was 492. Headed by Captain Davis. They took everything from me,” they explained, tugging against their cuffs. 

Quickly scanning the captive over, he grabbed onto his radio. 

“Got a hostage here in the north sector. Said they’re an American, unit 492, under the order of a captain Davis. Gonna need medical here too.” He said, reaching out to grab the battered arm of the soldier. They winced, gritting their teeth and shifting on their toes. 

“Got it. We don’t have a way to get medical. Get them back to the copter and we’ll deal with it at base,”

He glanced at the soldier, scanning over all of their battered limbs. 

“I’ll make it there as soon as possible. Still haven’t cleared it out, but the way they’re looking, I can’t stick around to finish it up.” Putting his radio back, he brought his hands up to the cuffs. They were solid, unable to be broken by hand.

“You seen anyone put a key anywhere?” He asked, peering down at the soldier. 

“The desk. Check the drawers,” they said, nodding toward a ramshackle desk in the corner of the room. He approached, ripping open each drawer and digging through the rubbage. His eyes caught onto a glint of silver. He pushed past the clutter, revealing two sets of dog tags. 

“Name?” He asked, looking over the information on the tags. 

“Last name is Whiteford. My partner is Barr.” They explained. The names matched up on the tags. He held the tags up for them to see before quickly turning back toward the drawers. There was no key in sight, however there was a pair of wire cutters. Not bothering to close the drawers, he quickly made his way over to the captive. He placed the cutters on one of the chains and began pushing with all his strength. A subtle click sounded as the steel gave way beneath the force of the pliers, and another, before the link broke altogether. With a thud the captive fell, only to be caught in the arms of the masked man. He slung the captive over his shoulder, all too aware of the pair of bare legs in his peripherals. 

“I can’t feel my arms or my legs,” they said as their breathing staggered. 

“You’re okay. We’re getting out of here,” he said, returning to the hallway. “We’re getting out of here. They can’t walk, we’re gonna need to find a place for the heli to land.” He spoke forcefully into the radio. 

“Uh, southwest, past that gate. We’ll have them land.” A voice said with a stutter. The man ran out of the building, pistol in hand as he turned down another alley. He could see the decrepit gate up ahead, more of a mess of chicken wire than a gate. Glancing up into the sky, he moved toward the landmark. The loud whirring propellers quickly came into earshot. He tugged at the back of the Americans shirt, pulling it down as far as it could go. A plume of sand erupted as the helicopter landed. He quickly approached and ducked as he handed the American over to his comrade. He watched as the man set their limp body on one of the seats. He hoisted himself up inside the chopper with a small grunt and moved to sit next to the American. His fingers fished through his pockets, pulling out a chain with the soldier's tags. He slipped them over their head, reading the engraved letters again. 

“You’re in good hands, sergeant,” he yelled over the deafening roar of the propellers. The battered sergeant whimpered, laying their head in the lap of the lieutenant. They tucked their knees into their chest and closed their eyes.

-

I felt, disjointed, to say the least. As if I was some sort of spectator, watching myself as I stepped away from the convoy of cars. I don’t remember where it went wrong. It might’ve been a misstep. Something loud blew our cover. I remember seeing the look on my partner's face. His eyes went wide. The grip on his gun tightened until his knuckles went white. The scene erupted into bedlam. Screaming voices sounded from the roofs. My ears rang as a bullet zipped past my head. I followed him into one of the buildings, quickly firing shots into an enemy. Sharp pain bloomed in my abdomen. I doubled over, looking at the blood seeping through my uniform. OCP never did hide stains too well. Handcuffs tightened around my wrists as the enemy took us captive. 

I can’t remember how long it had been. Eventually, they took my partner. The constant ringing in my ears overwhelmed my ability to audibly track. At one point a single shot rang out, then back to the deafening silence. With each day of only being given stale bread and enough water to only wet my lips, I grew more disoriented. Or maybe it was the blood loss. Either way, that British flag was a welcome one. 

I woke up with a stinging pain in my stomach. The first thing that stole my attention was the olive green shirt put over my body. I lifted it and peered at the boxers that loosely fit on my hips. My gaze shifted to the neatly placed bandages and the faint orange tinge of iodine. 

I was in a dorm of sorts. Standard issue bedding, scattered clothes, and a skull balaclava resting on the nightstand. An IV was placed in my arm, leading to a stand placed by the bed. The bag of fluids perched atop the pole had been long empty, along with the Keflex infusion next to it. I had a suspicion I was in the room of the man from earlier. I decided to lay back down, clutching at my tags as I rested my head on the pillow. The door clicked open, drawing my attention. It was the man from before, maybe. His mask wasn’t on. He had a strong nose, slightly crooked. His lips, plump and pink, were turned down into a permanent frown. Frown lines decorated his forehead along with a myriad of scars in various states of healing. His stubble was graying, a contrast against his short blonde curls. His deep brown eyes flicked across my body. 

“Whiteford,” he spoke, stepping closer to the bed, “your small intestine was eviscerated. They repaired it in surgery. You’re not going anywhere in your current condition, so it looks like you’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“Why am I in your room?” I asked. He looked away, running his fingers through his blonde locks. 

“Multiple reasons,” He stated plainly. He glanced back at me and rummaged through his pocket. He held out a cup of lemon jello and a plastic spoon. “You’re on a clear diet since they had to mess with your intestines.” I took the food from him and sat up, crossing my legs. The ache of my muscles had died down significantly. 

“They must’ve given me some good painkillers. Felt the best I’ve felt in years,” I said, opening the container. The man slowly moved toward the foot of the bed. The mattress dipped under the weight. 

“You know about your partner, right?” He asked. My nostrils flared as I sniffed, sinking the spoon into the jello. 

“I heard the shot,” I explained, bringing the jello to my mouth. I silently chewed, looking up at him. His brows furrowed as he stuck his hand into his pocket. He held out the tags to me. They lightly clanked as they dangled in the air. I grabbed them, setting them down by my Jello cup. “Kid joined the army for an education. Knew him since day one,” I mumbled as I dug around in the jello with my spoon. “He was good, just an easy scare.”

We sat in silence. The man reached out toward my IV and unscrewed the tubing. The rubber stopper popped into place. I glanced at my IV, and back up to him. 

“These yours?” I asked, tugging at the collar of the shirt. 

“There’s a lot of men here. It’s better than an open gown.”

“M’ used to it,” I mumbled. “Thanks.” 

He nodded as he stood up. He pulled open his closet door and dragged out a comforter. With a thump, it landed on the ground along with a single pillow. 

“What are you doing,” I asked, watching as he pulled off his shirt. 

“Sleeping,” he replied. 

“There’s enough space. It’s your bed anyway,” I pulled back the covers for him and set the empty jello on the nightstand. His brown eyes glanced at me, the bed, and then the floor before he stepped forward. He slipped into bed behind me, pulling the covers over his shoulder and turning away from me. The sound of his steady breath pulled me back into sleep. 

His shuffling body woke me. When I opened my eyes I was met with a beam of sunlight drifting through the window. I glanced down at my waist. His arms had wrapped around me in my sleep. The palm of his hand gently rested over my bandages under my shirt. I felt his chest rise as he took a deep inhale, groaning as he exhaled. His hands quickly jolted from my body. 

“Sorry.” He blurted out as he sat up and moved off of the bed. 

“It’s okay. You warmed me up at least.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I watched as he pulled open his closet door and began grabbing various items. He turned around and tossed me a pair of sweatpants. 

“I’ve got things to do. I’ll show you where the kitchen is, clear foods only,” he said before slipping into the bathroom. I pulled the sweats up over my ankles and eased onto my unsteady feet. I pulled the pants over my hips, practically swimming in the material as I pulled the drawstring tight. The cotton had bunched up around my ankles, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. He stepped out of the bathroom just as he finished lacing up his shoes. His brown eyes scanned up and down my legs. I could see the way his brows furrowed through the balaclava. He turned to the door, pulling it open and gesturing to the hall with a nod of his head. I followed along beside him. I read the embroidered letters on the back of his vest. 

“Riley, huh?” I mumbled. He looked over his shoulder at me as I said his name. 

“It’s Simon,” He stated as he faced forward again. I followed him past a turn and into the kitchen. A group of men sat at a table, their conversation halting as the two of us walked in. 

“This the Yankee?” A man with a Scottish accent asked, crossing his arms. Simon nodded as he pulled open the pantry doors. 

“Glad we pulled you out of there, yank. Was a bloody mess.” A man with a thin mustache said. 

“You’re not gonna make me eat beans on toast, are you?” I asked, slipping my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. 

“Fuck no,” the Scotsman added. Simon held out a box of chicken broth. I took it in my hands, sighing as I turned it over to read the cooking instructions. 

“Right then, we should probably get goin’,” Simon said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Make yourself at home,” the mustached man said. The two followed behind him, turning a corner and continuing down the hall. 

“Aye, bet you like havin’ a hen like that in your clothes LT,” a Scottish voice said, followed by a yelp of pain and muffled whispers. I turned toward the microwave and set the carton of broth on the spinning disc, dialing up a minute and thirty on the controls. As the humming of the microwave filled my ears, I turned toward the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water from one of the shelves. 

I sat silently at the table and ate my meal. It wasn’t the most appetizing, but it filled my empty stomach nicely. After finishing, I set the bowl down in the sink and wandered down the corridor. It was door after door of what I could only assume were private dormitories. I glanced out the window, watching as a group of soldiers traversed through a maze of equipment and obstacles. 

“Oh, let me take your IV out,” a voice said. I looked up at the person in front of me. It was some medic I hadn’t seen before. I held out my arm, looking away as he slipped the tubing out of my arm. He placed a cotton ball at the junction of my arm, holding it firmly to stop the bleeding and applying tape to hold the cotton in place. I muttered a ‘thank you’ and dipped into Simon's room. Determined to wash the grime from my body, I stepped into his bathroom. A small array of soaps were placed in a small shower caddy. I turned the faucet, stepping out of his baggy clothes. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I couldn’t help the frown that took over my face as I looked at the extent of my injuries. The deep purple that had blossomed on my skin faded to yellow and green. My limbs looked as if they were mangled, and the giant bandage over my abdomen only added to it. I stepped under the hot water, the ache in my bones melting away with the soothing warmth. I sighed as I popped open the cap of his body wash. It smelt earthy and fresh, just like him. I clenched my jaw at the thoughts that overtook me as I bathed in his scent. I felt an instant relief as I began scrubbing at the layers of dirt and sweat that coated me. Frankly, I didn’t know how he let me in his bed with how disgusting I was. The water that ran off of my body was tinged brown. I frowned, scrubbing underneath my arms until the water eventually ran clear. Hesitant to use the bottle of 2 in 1, I brought my product-tinged hands to my knotted hair, easing the suds into my scalp. I worked my fingers through the knots that had tugged at my locks, the dull headache behind my eyes easing with every strand undone. 

I felt clean, the cleanest I’d been in months. I grabbed a folded towel from under the sink and wrapped it around my body. Stepping back into his room, I pulled open his closet door, looking for another set of clean clothes. The door clambered open. A pair of heavy boots thudded onto the carpet. The masked man looked me up and down as I pulled out a pair of his boxers. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” I said, placing the pair back. He reached past me. The smell of sweat overwhelmed my nose, his soaked chest just inches from me. 

“There,” He Said, handing me a Set of neatly folded clothes. “I’ll be in the shower.” He closed the closet door and pulled off his drenched shirt as he stepped into the bathroom. I dropped my towel and quickly changed into his clothes. The feeling of clean linen against clean skin was intoxicating. I smiled, tossing the towel into his hamper and sitting down on his mattress. After a few minutes, he stepped outside, a cloud of steam following him. He wore a pair of sweats that hung low on his hips and a tank top, mask now forgotten in the bathroom. He scrubbed at his hair with his towel, dropping it to the floor as he came closer to the bed. 

“I don’t have anything else to do today. Figured I’d just hang around here.” He pulled on a navy blue hoodie. In white letters on the back was “ghost”.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask, kicking my legs back and forth. 

“Long as you don’t tell anyone about where we’re goin',” he said, tossing me a jacket. I quickly pulled it over my head and followed him out the door. He turned down the hallway, past the kitchen, winding through tight turns in the dormitories.

He glanced over his shoulder at me every so often, watching my hobbling paces. Eventually, we approached a stairwell at the far end of the base. He leaned into the door with his hip, pushing it open and letting me step past him. 

“Just up at the top,” he mumbled, boots clanking against the stairs as he ascended. I followed behind, gritting my teeth at the strain each step put on my sore quads. His brown eyes noticed my distress, grunting softly as he picked me up, carrying me the rest of the way up the stairs. He smelled like his soap. Woody, with a hit of something sweet. I wonder if he wore cologne. We approached the landing. His arms shifted to set me down on my feet. He fiddled with the knob, pulling the door open to reveal a rooftop. A single chair, a battery-operated lamp, and a radio sat next to a pillar. I followed him toward the little camp. He flicked on the radio, turning it to a low volume. Soft classic rock broke the silence that had grown between us. He disappeared behind the pillar, grabbing two cans of beer and a pack of smokes. He held one out to me. With a small smile on my face, I accepted the drink. 

“Set this up my second year on this base. Sometimes you just need a bit of quiet,” he explained as he sat down on the ground. He glanced up at me as he cracked the tab of his can. I took a seat next to him, opening my own beer. The long stretches of empty field in the distance caught my attention. Just over the horizon was the sun, tinting the sky a rose color. I silently sipped my drink, watching groups of soldiers jog by in formation. 

His lighter flicked. Looking over at the man, I watched as he held a cigarette between his lips, holding a flame to the end of it. Orange embers sparked to life, a plume of smoke rising from the end of the stick. He took a drag, closing his eyes as the smoke filled his mouth. He pulled back, holding the cigarette between two fingers. Glancing at me, he offered me a hit. I reached forward and took it from his hand, taking a drag of my own. A rush of static ran up my spine as the musky taste sank into my tongue. I exhaled, feeling a steady tinge of vertigo wrack my brain. Handing the cigarette back to him, I let the head rush envelop my senses. Eventually, after the feeling subsided, I opened my eyes, met with the cotton candy sky above. I hummed, picking up my can and taking a sip. 

“Why  the military?” He asked, exhaling a plume of smoke. I huffed a breath of air through my nose, laughing at the question internally. 

“Poverty,” I stated plainly, “the kind of poverty where you’re squatting in an old farmhouse, the kind that should be condemned,” I explained. He looked at me as if expecting me to continue. Sighing and setting my can down on the ground, I did just that. “We didn’t have grocery stores. Our schools were infested with mold. Everyone was hooked on meth,” I swallowed as visions of my old town sprung up in my head. “I’m trying to make the best of it here because I know as soon as I’m discharged, I’m ending up on the streets.”

He solemnly nodded, giving nothing but a grunt as he took another drag off his cigarette. Silently, he put his hand on my shoulder, gently sliding it across to the other until his arm was behind my back. I leaned into his touch. His hot breath blew against the top of my head as I rested my head on his collarbone. We sat in silence, the rise and fall of his chest threatening to lure me to sleep.

By the time I’d awoken, it was nightfall. His hand gently shook me, soft voice coaxing me awake. I grunted, breaking free of his hold and sighing. He stood, holding out his hand for me. I reached out. He gripped my wrist and pulled me to my feet. I stretched my arms over my head, yawning and shaking the sleep off of me. I followed behind Simon as we descended from the rooftop and quietly made our way back to his room. The nighttime air had a nip in it, I was thankful to be wearing his hoodie, thankful my hair was mostly dry. I followed him into his room, yawning again as I walked toward the bed. I pulled his hoodie off of my body, letting it drop to the ground. I pulled back the covers, slipping underneath and watching as Simon joined me. His eyes flicked up and down my face, from my eyes to my lips. He silently held his arms out, inviting me into the warm expanse of his chest. I accepted his invitation, leaning forward and swinging one of my legs over his hip. His hand went to my hip, rubbing soothing circles into my aching muscles with his thumb. His fingertips slowly slid up over the bandages on my stomach, to my shoulders. His brown eyes stared deeply into mine, flicking down to my lips. With his fingers placed under my chin, he tilted my head up. He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. I brought my hand to the back of his head, leaning into his touch. His hand slid back down to my hip, over the small of my back, pulling my body closer to his. His tongue swiped against my bottom lip. I parted my lips for him, breathing heavily as his tongue slid into my mouth. Heat enveloped my body as my insides began to churn. His fingers began slowly inching toward my ass, pulling me flush against his hips. He slowly rocked his body against my core, earning a moan from my lips. He flipped me onto my back and pushed my legs apart so he could sit between them. I hooked my ankles around the back of his hips, keeping him in place. With his hands on either side of my head, he leaned down, harshly sucking on my neck. With a roll of his hips, he drew a whine from my throat. My head felt like it was spinning. A dull throbbing spiked between my thighs only alleviated with every movement of his hips. 

I could feel him, even through the sweatpants. He was hard. A deep blush settled over his cheeks. His skin felt hot, and his brown eyes darkened as his pupils dilated. I probably looked the same. It was hard to contain the noises growing in my chest, hard to conceal how much of an effect his touch had on me. He pulled his lips away from my neck, reaching down to tug at the hem of my shirt. His brown eyes scanned my face for any hesitance. I nodded, helping him ease the fabric over my head. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he stared at my bare chest. Deciding it was his turn to strip, I reached for his hoodie, pulling it off of his head. He pulled his undershirt off. I couldn’t help but visually trace along all the scars that adorned his pale skin. Reaching out, I stroked my thumb along vast patches of scar tissue. He pushed my hand away, gaze dropping to my pants. 

With a small huff, I sat up, pushing him to lay against the foot of the bed. I kneeled between his legs, gently kissing over his scars as my hands fiddled with the band of his pants. My lips traveled lower, past his navel, kissing every new inch I exposed as I tugged down his pants. He lifted his hips just enough that I could tug the material down his thighs. My eyes widened as his cock sprang up, thwaping his stomach. He was long, Long enough that I wouldn’t be able to take him in my mouth. Thick too. The head of his cock was flushed with a rosh tint and a string of precum leaked from the top. I kissed along his thighs, gently sinking my teeth into his skin. His breathing intensified as I drew closer to his aching cock. Darting my tongue out, I licked along the tip. Salt overwhelmed my tastebuds as I licked a thick stripe up his shaft, stopping at his head. His fingers roughly gripped the sheets. He choked back a moan, watching as I wrapped my lips around his cock. I gripped the base with my hand, holding him steady as I slowly took more of him into my mouth. I watched as he threw his head back, chest rising erratically as his breath grew labored. While pressing my tongue against his shaft, I began to slowly bob my head up and down on his length, pushing forward until the intrusion in my throat threatened my gag reflex. I moved my hands in sync with my mouth, gently twisting my wrist. His hand went quickly to the back of my head, not pressing, but gently encouraging me. Pulling off, keeping the pace of my stokes up, I moved lower. I brought one of his balls into my mouth. His grip on my hair tightened. He moaned, sending a pang of need straight to my core. Pulling off with a loud pop, I ran my tongue up the underside of his shaft, sinking his length back into my mouth. His hips jutted forwards, sending the tip of his cock toward the back of my throat. Tears pricked at my eyes. 

“Fuck, fuck you’re so good,” he moaned, tugging me further down his shaft. I obliged, ignoring the tickle in my throat as I took more of his length into my mouth. 

“Wait-” he said through heavy breaths, tugging me off of his length. “I was close, just, give me a minute,” he said, tilting his head back. 

“Then let me finish you off,” I said, inching closer to his length. 

“No, not until you cum.” With a swift swing of his leg, I was on my back again. This time he was straddling my knees, tugging at my pants, his pants. My body jolted as he tugged them down my hips, along with his boxers. He shifted back as he eased the material down past my ankles. He gripped my knee, pushing my leg up and to the side. He swept two of his fingers up my cunt. I moaned and reached out for him. I hooked my arms around the back of his neck and pulled his chest against mine. He quickly shifted to lay next to me, fingers tracing up to find my clit. He pressed sloppy kisses to my cheek and jaw as he slowly circled my clit with two of his fingers. I gripped his bicep with a whine. He raised his fingers to his mouth, slipping the soaked digits past his lips. He moaned as he pulled the digits out. He spat onto his fingers and brought them back to my cunt. My breath hitched as he pushed one of his fingers inside me. His digits were thick and calloused, and the gentle stretch they added had my head spinning. 

“You’re tight. Gotta work you open before you take my cock,” he mumbled against my neck. He slowly thrust the digit into me. His thumb brushed against my clit, circling lightly as he stretched me out. 

“Simon!” I whined, bucking my hips into his hand. 

“Ya like that?” He said, sucking roughly on my neck. Pulling off with a loud pop, he spoke next to my ear. “Want another? I know you can take it.” I nodded. He gripped my chin, turning my head to face him. “Use your words.”

“Please, Simon,” I said weakly. He slipped a second finger inside me. I threw my head back with a moan as he stretched me out. The pace of his fingers sped up, matching the circles he rubbed into my clit. I leaned over, burying my face in the crook of his neck. With a huff, he gripped my hair in his fist and tugged my head back. 

“Look at me,” he said with a gruff voice. My cunt clenched around his fingers. He smirked, pumping them faster. My breathing grew ragged as the muscles in my stomach tensed. I could feel my toes tingle with pins and needles. I was close. 

“Simon i'm gonna cum,” I whimpered as I let my leg drop to the mattress, spreading myself even wider for him. The feeling of static washed over my body in waves. My toes curled and dug into the sheets. My brows furrowed, eyelids squeezing shut as he worked me through my orgasm. My body went limp as he pulled out. My thighs gently quivered. He moved to sit between my legs. He shifted his weight onto one of his knees and pulled his sweats down the rest of the way, letting them drop to the floor. I crossed my ankles behind his back, pulling him closer to my core. He guided the head of his cock towards my entrance with his fingers. His lips parted as he slowly inched inside me. I threw my head back against the pillows and tightened my hold on his hips. He moaned as I pushed his cock further inside me. 

The stretch burned. I couldn’t help the tears that welled up in my eyes, but with every movement, the pain bled together with the pleasure he sparked in my core. With a nudge against my cervix, he bottomed out. I felt undeniably full. I could feel the head of his cock in my stomach, just above my belly button. He pulled out, only to push his length back inside of me at a rough pace. He gripped my waist, keeping me still as he roughly fucked into me. I grasped onto his blonde hair and pulled him down into a kiss. He moaned against my lips. He rested an elbow at either side of my head, leaning in closer. Sweat began to roll down his forehead as he continued his rough thrusts. He huffed, breaking away from my lips. He buried his face in the crook of my neck with a groan. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” he moaned, rutting his hips into me. His lips latched onto my neck.

“Yeah? Fuck me harder, Simon,” I spoke through heavy, heaving breaths. He pulled back, pupils blown wide. He gripped onto the back of my thigh and began to push my knee toward my chest, angling even deeper into me. My hands flew to the sheets, gripping tight. The mattress began to creak beneath us, loud enough to bleed through the walls and into the adjacent rooms. His thighs began to roughly smack against my ass, filling the room with the disgusting sounds. My toes curled as the pleasure rose in my stomach. I reached up with one hand to lightly stroke his face with my fingers. 

“I’m close,” was all I could manage to whimper out. He kept up his pace, not faltering for a second as he drew me into my second orgasm. My mouth opened in a silent scream of sorts. With a painful stretch, my back arched off of the bed, limbs contorting as I came. His hips stuttered and then stilled as he reached his own orgasm. With a shaky sigh, he fell onto his side and pulled me into his arms. His breath fanned against my sweaty chest, cooling my heated skin off. 

Glancing down at my stomach, I noticed blood seeping through my dressings. 

“Simon, you popped one of my stitches,” I mumbled. 

He quickly sat up, looking down at the soiled dressings on my abdomen. He reached toward the pile of clothes on the ground and pulled out a hoodie. 

“Wait, can we just lay here for a bit before we go to medical?” I asked, gently tracing my fingers over his hip bones. He stared at me with furrowed brows before sighing. 

“Fine,” he relented. With silent gratitude, I snuggled up against his warm chest, throwing my leg over his hip with ease. He lightly chuckled as he wrapped his arms around me.

Masterlist

[islandtarochips]

Call of Duty: Callie “Snipe” Graves 🇺🇸

An American woman who is related to the Commander of the Shadow Company! A sister actually. Born and raised in America. Proud to be one. Having that cocky attitude just like her older brother. A Lieutenant standing by the Commander’s side. She is the ride and die with her older brother and the team. And do be careful when talking with her. You may never know what lie she’ll tell you about.

GENERAL:

🇺🇸 Name: Callie Graves 🇺🇸 Alias(es): 

Callie

Graves

Cal (by Philip and some close friends)

CC (by Philip)

Snipe (by Philip and some comrades)

Lieutenant Graves

Lieutenant Snipe

Shadow 0-3

Cowgirl (by Kanoa)

🇺🇸 Gender: Female 🇺🇸 Age: 35 (MW2), 36 (MW3) 🇺🇸 Birthday: July 31st, 1987 🇺🇸 Nationality: American 🇺🇸 Place of Birth: Texas, USA 🇺🇸 Home: Dallas, Texas, USA 🇺🇸 Spoken Languages: English 🇺🇸 Sexuality: Heterosexual 🇺🇸 Occupation:

Lieutenant of the Marines

Lieutenant of the Shadow Company

Second-in-Command of the Shadow Company

Sniper

Mercenary

APPEARANCE:

🇺🇸 Eye Color: Blue 🇺🇸 Hair Color: Blonde 🇺🇸 Height: 5’9”/175 cm 🇺🇸 Scars: 

Wounds: Bullet wound in the palm of her right hand (caused by Tiala), Stabbing wound on her left thigh (caused by Tiala as well)

Scars: Scars on her knuckles from fighting (fighting an enemy in Las Almas), scar behind her neck (from an enemy)

🇺🇸 Face Claim: Dakota Fanning

FAVORITES:

🇺🇸 Color: Lemon Yellow 🇺🇸 Food: Burgers. Just burgers and fries. 🇺🇸 Drink: Whiskey 🇺🇸 Flower: Sunflower 🇺🇸 Hairstyle: Always putting it up in a ponytail or in a bun when she's at home. But putting it in a braid during work time.

Affiliation:

Shadow Company:

-Commander Philip Graves

-Sergeant Sheree "Reed" Norcliffe ( @justasmolbard )

- Sergeant Annabelle “Kit” Pham ( @applbottmjeens )

Warriors Task Force:

- General Alana Kalani

- Captain Kanoa Toa

-First Sergeant Tiala "Shark" Koa

- Sergeant Agnes “Blast” Falagi

- Sergeant Nigel “Squirrel” Harrison

Task Force 141:

- Captain John Price

- Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley

- Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish

- Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

- Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin ( @sleepyconfusedpotato )

- Sergeant Major Hannah “Sparrow” Clayton ( @revnah1406 )

- Annabelle “Kit” Pham ( @applbottmjeens and later on being part of the Shadow Company)

Para Special Forces: ( @welldonekhushi )

- Captain Arjun

Second Commando Regiment: ( @kaitaiga )

- Sergeant Damien Whitlock

CIA:

- Station Chief Kate Laswell

PERSONALITY:

🇺🇸 Myers Briggs Type: ESTP Callie is a VERY outgoing person. She has always been ever since she was little. Always loves to go outside for an adventure with her older brother. She’s also the kind of woman who would do ANYTHING for her brother. Whatever he said she’ll do it. Well…some of it.

🇺🇸 Loyalty: Her ONLY loyalty is with her brother, Philip Graves. For he has always been there for her when she needed him most. So she will do the same for him no matter what the cost.

🇺🇸 Action-Oriented: Whatever Graves asks her to deal with something. She’ll do it in the most CREATIVE way to deal with the enemies. And she’ll do it in a HEARTBEAT.

🇺🇸 Pragmatic Problem Solver: Even though she will follow her older brother’s orders without questioning. But she sometimes wanted to listen to her OWN thoughts before following his orders.

NEGATIVE:

🇺🇸 Manipulative: You could say she got that from her brother. She does that with other soldiers if they crossed the line with her. Whenever anyone argues with her. She’ll turn the table around by sharing something that will STRUCK into their core. (She also secretly read your files and got some from other people you may know so she can find your weaknesses.)

🇺🇸 Bossy: Most of the Shadows kept complaining that she’s being too bossy. Always telling them what to do while Graves put her in charge. And yelling at them every small little thing when they do something wrong.

🇺🇸 Narcissists: She is a NARCISSIST. Always trying to prove someone else is WRONG. Even doing that to Philip too. She didn’t even BOTHER listen to other people’s perspective and just kept saying that they are wrong. (Spoiled brat)

🇺🇸 Liar: She’s a GOOD dirty liar. Always got away just by saying her creative words. Even if there are ways that don't make sense. She’ll MAKE it sense.

Skills and Abilities:

🇺🇸 Fighting Style: Hand-to-Hand Combat and Boxing

🇺🇸 Weapons: A6 bolt-action sniper rifle and Benelli M1014

🇺🇸 Distinct Weapon: Sig Sauer Model P320 and gutting knife

🇺🇸 Special Skills:

Dealmaker: She got good info on things when it comes to making deals with someone. She just needs to learn more about this person before giving them what they actually wanted and needed.

Assassinate: Give her the order of assassinating someone. And she’ll get it done without hesitating or even questioning it.

FAMILY:

Unnamed Father (Father, Alive)

Unnamed Mother (Mother, Deceased)

Philip Graves (Older Brother, Alive) 

TRIVIA:

🇺🇸 She is the younger sister of the Commander.

🇺🇸 Callie has always been deceived by her father because she was at fault of her mother’s death

🇺🇸 Philip is the only kind of brother who always look out for her

🇺🇸 She’s not like any other kind of girl. She likes to get her hands dirty and would join with her older brother to do something fun or troubling.

🇺🇸 At 16-years-old, Callie had developed a habit of making deals with other students. Like giving them some drugs or cigarettes or even handing out tests with some answers. Surprisingly, she didn’t get caught.

🇺🇸 She enjoys riding on horses with Philip. Almost feels like she is FREE as she feels the wind through her golden hair.

🇺🇸 Snipe is the nickname that Philip had given her because of how her words affected others without a care. Which he is very most proud of. And also, she’s really good at being a sniper.

🇺🇸 Been with her brother in the Marines Corpse and into the Shadow Company. She’s very proud of him and accepted being his second-in-command.

Background Story:

On July 31st, 1987. Callie was born in Texas. And on that same day is when her mother passes after giving birth to her to come into this world.

THAT is when her father started to distance himself from her and despise her. But not her older brother, Philip Graves. Whenever her father left her alone and didn’t bother to care for her. Philip stepped in and took care of her himself. Ignoring their father’s harsh words about leaving Callie alone. Philip chooses not to and continues to care for his little sister. Philip was only 5-years-old when Callie was born. He may not know WHAT to do but he knows that he has to protect his little Callie.

When Callie had started to learn how to walk, this is when she was 13 months old. She wanted to walk up to her dad, who was drinking at the moment and he disgustingly looked at her. Walking up to him reaching out with her tiny hands. He scoffed as he stood up and was about to deal with her before Philip ran in and grabbed her. Saying to his father that he’ll keep an eye on her while he watches TV. The father just rolled his eyes and went back to sit down while Philip took Callie, who was being fussy, to the kitchen to get her something to eat. Which he remembers about his mama telling him about babies drinking milk. So he did his best to make it for his little sister and make sure she stayed put before his dad might get pissed off if he sees her wandering off again. But he did make some small gifts for Callie to be able to walk! Philip was only 6-years-old when Callie was 13-months-old.

When Callie was 12-years-old, she had done her very best of trying to get her father’s attention. Which really annoyed him as he ignored her and paid attention to his son. It upset Callie very much but when she saw Philip giving HIS attention to her. She believes that’s all she needs as she shows or tells her older brother about anything! And it warms Philip’s heart to see his little sister yapping about her day. Callie was very happy when Philip secretly spoiled her with their father’s money. Giving her small gifts, food, candies, snacks- ANYTHING that big older Phil can give to his little sister. She appreciates it REALLY much.

When she turned 15-years-old she had started to pick up a habit of selling some things in the school grounds to other kids. Selling and stealing drugs, giving other teenagers some cigarettes, she also can trade them with answer sheets on their homeworks. All of that and hadn’t got caught. And that’s how she got some money from them too. Which Philip was questioning when he saw his little sister coming home with some of it in her hands. She just straight up lied to her older brother that she was doing a canteen for her school. And just left it at that. Philip didn’t even think about it and just took her words for it. Their dad has still been drinking and couldn’t care LESS of what Callie is doing.

Callie had also participated in some of the sports. Mostly baseball and she was hoping that her dad would come and watch some of her games. Just like he came to watch Philip’s football game. But as expected from all those years…he never showed up. The only person that came to most of her games, is none other than Philip. She appreciated it and she’s happy that someone she knew had come to her games. But it still hurts that her own father didn’t show up. Philip had told her that he TRIED to drag his ass out of the house to come to her game but he wouldn’t budge. Which annoyed him so much. She just shrugged it off and asked him if they could get some burgers. Philip smiled at her as he would do anything for her. So they went out to get a burger from McDonald's. Callie was 16-years-old when she started to participate in sports after the summer.

When Callie became a Junior in High School. She has been called into the Principal’s office. As she was caught red-handed having some drugs in her bag since she was about to sell it to one of the students. Instead of her father coming over. Philip was there instead. So after the conversation the Principal had said that they would expel Callie from campus for she had been doing this for a LONG time. And they can’t risk having her around for she might do it again. So she and Philip left the school without saying a word to each other. Callie doesn’t know how he reacted to this situation before they reached home. As soon they stepped in, the two paused to see their father was on the chair with a belt in hand. Does he know about Callie being expelled? Yes he does. How? Because HE was the one who answered the call from the Principal but he let Philip go instead of him. And he didn’t tell his son why he didn't want to go. He just wants to prepare himself to punish Callie when she gets home. The poor girl was scared to see her father with the belt and was about to be grabbed by him too when he stood up and walked over. But Philip stopped him, telling their father that she wouldn’t have done this if he would PAY ATTENTION to her. The father scoffed at his son’s words before pushing him back as he grabbed Callie. Saying that this girl is a LOST CAUSE ever since she was born and had caused the DEATH of her mother. Those words had really struck her so badly as she started to tear up. It upsetted Philip so much to see his little sister being scared. So he stepped in as he grabbed the father’s wrist and pushed him back before putting Callie behind him. He warned his father to NOT touch her like that and told him that they’ll be moving out. He’ll take care of Callie if he doesn’t want to. The father scoffed with no caring looks in his eyes. So he let them leave as Philip took Callie somewhere else. FAR away from their father. He was only 22-years-old while Callie is still 16-years-old.

When Callie had finally graduated from another school, WITHOUT causing any more trouble, the Graves siblings decided to sign up for the Marines together. And they have worked together ever since. But Callie could see her older brother’s eyes as if he’s not pleased or satisfied by these military systems. Seeing how the other higher ranks had to pull back men like the two of them. So she heard that Philip was going to leave the military and she wanted to join him. Which he doesn’t mind. So the two had left the military in 2017. And Philip had made his own private military company. Callie was very proud and impressed of her older brother’s work and she had accepted his offer by being his second-in-command. This was when Callie was 30-years-old and Philip was 35-years-old.

[evidence-based-activism]

what do you think of this exchange? I find the 100% statistic and the claim that a male solder rapes a female soldier every 3 hours to be quite unbelievable https://www.tumblr.com/lickmybigfathairypussy/761526266679705600?source=share

I think the second poster is repeating misogynistic myths perpetuated by men's rights activists. The first poster (@hadesoftheladies) does a good job illustrating why he is wrong.

For the specific statistics you are interested in:

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The claim "French men have sexually assaulted 100% of female users in public transport" appears to have been taken out of context. (Maybe this was the result of French-to-English translations?) There was a French report that found 100% of their sample of women reported sexual harassment while on public transportation ... but this sample was drawn from a poll about harassment on public transportation, so it's not representative [1].

I do not read French, so this was a difficult to research, but it looks like a better (but still imperfect) estimate is 87% [2]. I can't find any recent representative studies. (They are probably all in French, which I, again, cannot read.) What I can find all suggests that sexual harassment in France is already prevalent and becoming even more frequent [3].

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For the one about American soldiers ("A US american solder rapes one of his female coworker every 3 hours."). To be clear for everyone, what this is saying is that every three hours, one male American solider rapes one female American solider. And it turns out you're correct, Anon, male American soldiers rape their female coworkers much more frequently than this [4, 5].

Specifically, in 2018, 6.2% of female active duty service members reported being assaulted. 92% of these assaults were by "men or a group of men". Given both formal and informal military culture around sexual assault and women, this is likely a severe underestimate. In addition, this is a prevalence rate not an incidence rate, so, for example, if one woman is actually assaulted on 5 different occasions, it would still only be recorded once.

But, going by just these values, it works out to at least 11,893 male soldiers having assaulted 11,893 women in 2018. That's about 33 every day or more than 4 every 3 hours. Even if you include only "completed penetrative" assaults (and assume the types are split evenly by perpetrator sex, which is extremely unlikely), that's still 2 every 3 hours.

And again, this doesn't take into account how many of these incidents had more than one male perpetrator, how many women were victimized more than one time, and how many more assaults went unreported in the survey.

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Check out my male violence tag for more statistics.

References under the cut:

France 24. (2015, April 16). France: Women face harassment in the metro and on public transport. https://www.france24.com/en/20150416-france-women-harassment-metro-transport-rights

FNAUT. (2016). Étude sur le harcèlement sexiste et les violences sexuelles faites aux femmes dans les transports publics. https://web.archive.org/web/20210319070100/https://www.centre-hubertine-auclert.fr/sites/default/files/fichiers/etude-fnaut-2016.pdf

Sweeney, J. (2023, January 23). Sexism in France is alarming and getting worse, says report. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/jan/23/sexism-in-france-is-alarming-and-getting-worse-says-report

Prevalence of sexual assault in the military: Risk and protective factors, data sources, and data uses. (n.d.). https://www.rand.org/pubs/tools/TLA746-2/handbook/resources/data-on-sexual-assault-in-the-military.html

Breslin, R., Davis, L., Hylton, K., Hill, A., Klauberg, W., Petusky, M., ... & Office of People Analytics Alexandria United States. (2019). 2018 Workplace and Gender Relations of Active Duty Members: Overview Report.