#bumpy johnson

[tinuvielsblog]

American Gangster (2007) || Dir. Ridley Scott

[mannytoodope]

Bumpy Johnson: A leader, like a shepherd, he sends his fastest nimble sheep, out front. And the others will follow. While the shepherd walks quietly behind... Now he's got the stick and the cane, and he'll use it! If he has to. But most times, he doesn't have to. He moves the whole herd quietly.

[sunyot]

Cinematic Moments - American Gangster 2007

[themovieblogonline]

The Godfather of Harlem Reaction

In this video, I share my thoughts and reactions to the hit show "The Godfather of Harlem." This gripping drama chronicles the true story of crime boss Bumpy Johnson as he returns to Harlem in the 1960s to reclaim his turf and protect his community from the Italian mob.

As a fan of crime dramas, I was excited to watch this series and it didn't disappoint. In this video, I break down my favorite scenes, characters, and storylines, and share my overall impressions of the show.

If you're a fan of "The Godfather of Harlem" or just enjoy reaction videos, be sure to check out this video and let me know your thoughts in the comments below.

Don't forget to like, comment, and subscribe for more content like this!

[t-hiswifey]

"Godfather of Harlem - Hustle, Repeat (Official Audio) ft. Swizz Beatz, Jadakiss" on YouTube 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[tloinc-forever]

[firstrappin]

That was a real intimate hand massage for no reason.

[ecrivainsolitaire]

Humans have the capability of perceiving when they're being stared at, even if they can't see it.

Dr. T'Chem was staring at Lieutenant /θkɡɾɑːˈŋæ/ (or as his current fling affectionately nicknamed her, "Tucker-Annie"), whose dorsal spikes were still rattling after the incident at the holodeck. It was his first time at the witness stand, and he didn't want to ruin a young star sailor's life.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie was the combat specialist in charge of the training dojo of Federation Vessel TSN457, named after the Terra-Saturn-Ceres coalition where Dr. T'Chem currently served as the xenoanthropologist charged with facilitating human integration to the local Federation of Fraternal Planets and Satellites. The FFPS had the goal of finding planets with intelligent life to trade resources and technology, and due to their recent incorporation, local research vessels were fitted with diverse crews to acclimate everyone to each other's cultures and biological needs. Dr. T'Chem was the human expert in the ship, and was tasked with helping smooth over interpersonal relations among the crew.

The relations were, at that moment, as bumpy as Lt. Tucker-Annie's dorsal spike line.

An incident had occurred during a training exercise. The squad consisted of a Venusian, two Saturnians, three Ceresians, two monks from the Transcorporeal Temple of Robotic Ascension, and five Terrans (two humans, two dogs and a cybernetically enhanced cat). The exercise consisted of getting through a generic jungle scenario and, unbeknownst to the squad, avoiding a team of ninjas lead by Lt. Tucker-Annie trying to take them out one by one. It was supposed to test the way they would react to a surprise attack.

It was not supposed to reveal that humans could sense when they were being stalked.

Of course, any trained sailor would have an ingrained knowledge of potential threats and how to spot them. Look for the shadows that are too dark, listen for the spot air isn't blowing from, things like that. Basic things most people don't think about but that can be identified if you think about them.

This was not that.

"Something's watching us," said Crew Johnson, in that sloppy way only creatures with lips spoke.

"What do you mean? There's cameras everywhere, of course they're watching us," responded Crew Hessikh, slithering over the vines on a tree branch to cross a river. She grabbed the axe in Crew Johnson's belt with her telekinesis and took down a small tree to serve as a bridge.

"Crew Flufflepaws, could you please take a look?" Asked Crew Johnson, nervously looking around. Crew Flufflepaws got on the tree as well and scanned the terrain from above.

"I can't see anything, or smell anything. And my hearing isn't what it used to be. I'll stay on the lookout for—" a horrendous hiss interrupted the automatic translator's feed. Crew Flufflepaws' comm line cut off.

Hessikh and Johnson looked at each other. That was the strongest fighter of their team, gone. They knew it was a simulation, but it still gave them chills.

The rest of their crew mates were split into two different teams further along the path. Crew Fanning's voice came from the comm line.

"Johnson, Hessikh, are you okay? What happened to Flufflepaws?"

"We don't know, Johnson said something was watching us and it went to check, then we lost comms."

"I felt it too. I know this isn't that kind of exercise but I think— AAAHHH!"

Two blaster shots were heard, then a thud.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie, who was watching Hessikh and Johnson from the mud pit behind the latter, had her tranquilizer dart ready. She got ready to shoot down Hessikh, but then heard a voice over the comm line.

"Code Lithium, we have a Code Lithium, we have to end the simulation, I just took down- I can't-" the breathing was sounding heavier and faster, too fast for a human.

"Fanning, calm down, remember your sutras. We need you focused, what happened?"

"I felt like I was being watched, so I turned around and saw this thing and it scared me and I jumped and I thought it was on stun mode and-"

"It's alright, we're calling it off. Captain, we have a Code Lithium! End the simulation now or- fuck, there it is again. Hessikh, do you see any heat sources?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary- why haven't they shot it down alre-"

The next thing Lieutenant Tucker-Annie remembered was the sound of a heel turn over the mud, followed by darkness.

Lt. Tucker-Annie woke up in the hospital bay, getting her tail regenerated by a robot nurse. She looked over and found her underling on the next bed, with a huge bandage on the side of his neck and a wing in a cast. Thankfully, he would be alright as soon as the stem cell bank was reprogrammed after her treatment.

The disciplinary board was called, an investigation was open, and both Crew Fanning and their captain were put on paid leave while the investigation was ongoing. Dr. T'Chem was called in as an expert after a review of the holodeck footage revealed there was no way Crew Fanning could have heard, seen or smelled the hidden sailor.

It was the first time in a while he hadn't helped himself to a glass of Venusian whiskey for breakfast. He really didn't want to mess this up.

"And would you care to explain how this is possible, Doctor?" Asked the prosecution, staring him down with an unnerving amount of eyes.

"I am as astounded as this court; our firm has been looking into Terran medical literature and we're still trying to figure out how it works; they don't even know, but they know it does happen, it's been documented for thousands of years. I have a hypothesis, but I don't know if it's even testable."

There was a murmur in the court. The judge asked him to elaborate.

"The way eyesight works is the light bounces off of opaque bodies and in its way it collides with the lenses in our corneas, which send it to the brain as electrical signals to be interpreted. The light that doesn't go into our eyes just bounces off our bodies and other opaque objects as well, the photons go everywhere and anywhere. This is the same for most species in this constellation, including humans. But even other Terran species don't have these abilities, as Crew Flufflepaws has testified."

A begrudging meow was heard from the audience.

"Order in the court, please. Dr. T'Chem, what do you suggest is the origin of this mysterious sense?"

The camera drones all hoovered around him. Dr. T'Chem straightened his fins and got close to the microphone.

"I believe it's possible that humans have a sense of touch so sensitive that they can feel the photons that don't bounce back. The ones that go into an eye instead of an opaque body. I think humans can actually feel in their skin when they are being watched."

There was an uproar in the crowd. His paramour, a dark skinned young human from the human settlement known as "Colombia", grabbed the religious symbol on her necklace and made a gesture with it he hadn't quite figured out yet.

The trial had to go on recess.

The implications were incalculable. Three dozen biologists from six different planets, including Terra, had emailed him before the end of the day to ask him to justify himself. Multiple human religious leaders took the chance to link it to demonic possession or moral evils. By the end of the week, four different labs were trying to figure out a way to double blind test shooting a photon cannon on a human's back and trying to get them to sense it.

But most importantly, the news made it outside of the Federation. The rumours about this new species that couldn't be stalked got so far, it ended up affecting the outcome of a border conflict with the Betelgeuse Libertarian Army on the Federation's favour.

Humans were terrifying.

If this is what they evolved to be, what was their planet like?

[usafphantom2]

The prototype B-52s scrapped after First Lady Lady Bird Johnson’s ‘beautification’ of the US Air Force Museum

The B-52 Stratofortress

For more than 60 years, B-52 Stratofortress bombers have been the backbone of the strategic bomber force for the United States. The B-52 is capable of dropping or launching the widest array of weapons in the US inventory. This includes gravity bombs, cluster bombs, precision guided missiles and joint direct attack munitions. Updated with modern technology, the B-52 is capable of delivering the full complement of joint developed weapons and will continue into the 21st century as an important element of our nation’s defenses. The Air Force currently expects to operate B-52s through 2050.

The B-52A first flew in 1954, and the B model entered service in 1955. A total of 744 B-52s were built, with the last, a B-52H, delivered in October 1962. The first of 102 B-52H’s was delivered to Strategic Air Command in May 1961.

The prototype B-52s scrapped after First Lady Lady Bird Johnson’s ‘beautification’ of the US Air Force Museum: The story of the XB-52 and YB-52

The winning design

As explained by Scott Lowther in his book Boeing B-47 Stratojet & B-52 Stratofortress Origins and Evolution, the winning design for the XB-52, Model 464-49, transitioned to Model 464-67. While largely the same, there were some notable differences, most obviously the extension of the forward fuselage. Where 464-49 had the rear of the cockpit canopy behind the leading edge of the wing roots, 464-67 put the cockpit well ahead of the wing. The relatively vast expanse of spoilers on the wings were scaled down and the engine nacelles were reshaped. With those changes and an Air Force ‘letter of intent’ for B-52 tooling in March 1951, Boeing was ready to begin constructing two Model 464-67s.

The prototype B-52s

These prototype B-52s were given the designations XB-52 and YB-52… X for ‘experimental’ and Y being the designation for ‘prototype.’ Typically an `experimental’ aircraft is built before a ‘prototype’, but in this case while the XB-52 (serial number 49- 230) rolled out on Nov. 29, 1951, and the YB-52 (serial number 49-231) followed on Mar. 15, 1952, the YB-52 flew first on Apr. 15, 1952. This was due to the XB-52 suffering damage during pneumatic system pressurization testing which required extensive repairs.

The prototype B-52s scrapped after First Lady Lady Bird Johnson’s ‘beautification’ of the US Air Force Museum: The story of the XB-52 and YB-52

The XB-52 followed the prototype into the air on Oct. 2, 1952. The first flight of the YB-52 lasted two hours and was powered by prototype YJ57-P-3 engines. Despite the difference in designations, the XB-52 and the YB-52 were essentially identical.

The prototype B-52s were largely similar to the production aircraft in appearance. An immediately distinguishing feature of both aircraft, though, was the cockpit. A tandem fighter-style canopy somewhat similar to that used on the B-47 was employed; it was low-drag and gave the pilot excellent visibility.

Pioneering the landing gear layout

The prototypes pioneered the landing gear layout that the rest of the B-52 fleet would employ. Somewhat similar at first glance to the bicycle arrangement used by the B-47, the gear used by the B-52 was quite different. Four separate dual-wheel bogies were stored within the B-52 fuselage, but instead of deploying straight down they deployed out to the sides, twisting around so that the bogies stored fore-and-aft ended up side-by-side. This gave the B-52 not a bicycle arrangement, but a quadricycle. The B-52 would comfortably sit level on its main landing gear and not tip to one side or the other. It still employed smaller outrigger gear near the wingtips, but this was to keep the wingtips from striking the ground during heavily laden takeoffs or bumpy landings.

‘Crabbing’ into the wind

Additionally, the forward bogies could rotate up to 20° side to side, allowing the B-52 to do something unique: land while ‘crabbing’ into the wind, the fuselage of the aircraft pointed well off the axis of the groundpath of the flight. This would permit safe landings in high winds.

The prototype B-52s scrapped after First Lady Lady Bird Johnson’s ‘beautification’ of the US Air Force Museum: The story of the XB-52 and YB-52

The prototypes had flapperons, ailerons and spoilers on the main wings. The ailerons were relatively small and located far from the wingtip; in fact, just outboard of the inboard engine pylon. A wingtip location for the ailerons would have given them more authority, but that would have put them in a much thinner section of the wing, a section much given to flexing. The inboard location was sufficient for the manoeuvring that the bomber was expected to perform.

Folding vertical fin

In any event, the spoilers were to take care of the bulk of the control needs of the aircraft, and the ailerons would eventually find themselves redundant. Unlike the production aircraft that followed, the prototypes did not have the capability for inflight refuelling. Neither did they, initially, have the external fuel tanks that generally graced the outer wings of production model B-52s, but such tanks were eventually added later in the testing phase.

B-52H print

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. B-52H Stratofortress 2nd BW, 20th BS, LA/60-0008 “Lucky Lady IV”.

The horizontal stabilizers were all-moving, but this was meant for trim stabilization. Actual control was via slim elevators along the trailing edge. The elevators had, through the B-52F, trim tabs. An important but rarely noted feature not only of the prototype B-52s but of all B-52s that followed was the folding vertical fin. The fin was, at least until the G-model, a vast structure; too tall by far to allow the B-52 to fit within standard hangars. So it could fold over 90-degrees, greatly reducing the effective height of the aircraft. Unlike naval aircraft with wings that fold to fit in the limited space on board aircraft carriers, the fielding fin is not a self-contained system — an external crane is needed to lay it over and raise it back up again.

Prototype B-52s were hand-made

The prototypes were essentially hand-made at the Boeing Seattle factory. Production methods were not used as the jigs were not finalized; the equipment and instruments employed were also often not what would become standard. Neither prototype was fitted with defensive weapons; the tail turrets were represented by static fairings, with the painted-on lines.

The YB-52 was donated to the US Air Force Museum on Jan. 27, 1958, having flown for 783 hours. It was on display for a time but due to a ‘beautification’ scheme orchestrated by First Lady Lady Bird Johnson, both the XB-52 and YB-52 were scrapped sometime in the 1960s. Exactly how the official museum of the United States Air Force was ‘beautified’ by converting one of the most beautiful aircraft ever built into razor blades and soda cans is not adequately explained in the available literature.

Boeing B-47 Stratojet & B-52 Stratofortress Origins and Evolution is published by Mortons Books and is available to order here.

Photo credit: U.S. Air Force

B-52 Model

This model is available from AirModels – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS.

Dario Leone

Dario Leone is an aviation, defense and military writer. He is the Founder and Editor of “The Aviation Geek Club” one of the world’s most read military aviation blogs. His writing has appeared in The National Interest and other news media. He has reported from Europe and flown Super Puma and Cougar helicopters with the Swiss Air Force.

@kadonkey via X

[oldvintageglamour]

Mayme Hatcher Johnson, wife of crime boss "Bumpy" Johnson, with her daughter, 1950s 🖤

[comicwaren]

“Ladies and gentlemen, hold on to your hats... ‘cause it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!” -- Silk

Cover art for Silk Vol. 5 #002

Art by Dave Johnson

[stevebattle]

DustPuppy (2000), iRobot (Bedford, MA) with SC Johnson. The one with the disposable dust collector, to suit SC Johnson's business model of selling consumables. "Now, that was silly. Roomba didn’t need anything like that." – Joe Jones, Roomba’s Long, Bumpy Path From Prototype to Your Living Room, by Kenneth Rosen.

"We called our robot DustPuppy for a reason. This was to be the world’s first significant consumer robot and the team’s first attempt at a consumer product. The risk was that customers might expect too much and that we might deliver too little. We were sure that — like a puppy — our robot would try very hard to please but that also — like a puppy — it might sometimes mess up. Calling it DustPuppy was our way of setting expectations and hoping for patience if our robot wasn’t perfect out of the gate. Alas, iRobot employed a firm to find a more commercial name. Many consumer tests later, DustPuppy became Roomba. The thinking was the robot’s random motion makes it appear to be dancing around the room—doing the Rumba." – Joe Jones, Don't Fear the Robot.

[blackinperiodfilms]

Emmy Award-winner Rome Flynn (With Love, How To Get Away With Murder) is set to recur in the MGM+ series Godfather of Harlem for Season 4.

Flynn will portray real-life gangster Frank Lucas, who is described by the streamer as “a country boy from North Carolina who ventured to Harlem and, after initial friction with gangster Bumpy Johnson (Forest Whitaker), eventually rose to become Bumpy’s fierce defender and right-hand man.” Denzel Washington depicted Lucas in the movie American Gangster, but in Godfather of Harlem, his story begins 10 years earlier than in the film.

“When I saw Rome’s audition, I immediately knew we’d found our man – equal parts charming and ruthless, savvy and suave. Rome is a wonderful actor who can go toe-to-toe with Forest Whitaker and our other great performers,” said Brancato in a statement to Deadline.

The first three seasons are available to stream on MGM+.

[blackfolksintime]

New York - The Godfather of Harlem - Ellsworth 'Bumpy' Johnson - in tie, born October 31, 1905 - July 7, 1968

[justxrandomxlivia]

Southern Horns - Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

gif by daniel-bruehl

Summary: You are a southern states First Sergeant working for the UN. For years you chased a criminal mastermind all around the globe, until he finally appeard to be in England, where you have to work with the SAS together. But a certain, very hot Lieutenant makes it hard for you to breath.

Warnings: Mention of criminal stuff. TW! - Blood/wounds. But overall fluff with light smut at the end ;)

Word count: 4549

AN: (Masterlist) My first time writing Ghost. I wrote the second half about three times new, because i did not like the flow. And somehow the ending happened to be smut :D Forgive me. For the scottish accent and the southern drawl i used two very amazing translators. I'm going to post the links at the end. Anyway, have fun and let me know if you like me to continue the story ^^ - Livana

“Ma’am, we are landing in 5 mins.” A young U.S. marine was kind to let me know. Working for five months with the Marines was clearly difficult, but I managed to survive. We did some good cleaning with the UN near Africa. Freeing the ocean from drug export and import, human trafficking and arms smuggling. But I’m really happy to return home, where temperatures are not made by devil and trying to kill me day after day.

After getting my promotion to First Sergeant, I signed the contract with UN. Now I’m travelling the globe and have to get along with soldiers from all over the world. It’s not so easy as a female U.S. Army Sergant, but despite all those stereotypical comments, I make the best out of it.

But now I will only focus on my six weeks vacation before I’ll return to Africa. As I look out of the plane I feel how we are slowly descending. Something I never can get used to. “yawl comin' downtown with us?” I look behind me as one of my partners asked the front row the regular question, like everytime when we come home. I smile at him and shake my head. “Naw, i need tuh git sum sleep. Hav fun.“

Usually, I would join them. But not today. As I answered I realized how tired I really was. Born in raised in Georgia, I had big issues in my early years in the army. If I couldn’t speak clean, I was not allowed to speak at all. I practised day and night to ‘speak normal.’ Now I just end up in my accent when I’m too tired or when I want to mess with others.

After we landed, I grabbed my bag and got out of the plane. Now taking a one-way trip home. Straight to bed. Hm, almost straight to bed. First I need to take a shower, put my stuff in the laundry and get something to eat. Maybe I’m watching some Desperate Housewives while eating dinner. Should I just order something.

Completely stuck in my thoughts I didn’t heard someone calling for me, I just realised at the moment this someone was stopping me in my tracks as they grabbed my shoulder. I almost jump out my skin, before I saw who it was. “Captain?” I was shocked and disappointed to see my captain here. He only appears when someone gets a new job aboard. “Sir, how can I help you?” I asked. Hoping he just stopped by to tell me ‘Good job’ or something. But that was more a dream than a possible outcome.

He looked at me as if he was sorry. But same time angry. “Sergant l/n. Do you remember Christoph Johnson?” He asked with a stern face. Immediately a bad feeling grew inside me. I let out a long sigh, “Yes sir. The bastard we lost in Mexico last year. He disappeared since then. Don’t tell me he is back on track?” I took a deep breath, preparing for the answer. My Captain turned around an started walking towards hangar four. Then he spoke: “Yes sergeant. He seems to be back. We tracked him down to England. We connected him with nuclear missile smuggle. SAS will be collaborating with us.” Then he stopped. I could not even ask or say anything as he continued. “You trip starts in 10 minutes. You can sleep on board if the flight is not too bumpy.” With this he pointed to the small transport aircraft in hangar four. Then he started walking away, leaving me alone.

Great. Six weeks vacation yeah. I don’t even bother to ask why me. It is obvious. I worked from the beginning of my time in the army to get a hand on Johnson. I worked with so many different branches in the last 5 years, but he was always a step ahead. Hearing that he smuggles nuclear weapons now, is not a good sign. I guess I will work as assistant for SAS. After those years hunting that bastard, I would say, I know the most about him. Even the FBI offered me a job 2 years ago. But I’d rather fight for people of the whole world.

As I make my way to the aircraft, I can feel how my body get’s heavier. I need to take some rest while we are in the air. A friendly Lieutenant greets me and tells me that they’ll drop me off in England where I’ll get picked up by an SAS Sergeant. Short after I placed myself at a window seat, I hear the engines running. The plane takes off and we made it to cruising altitude. Now it’s time to rest. I closed my eyes and fell right away asleep. After a few hours and bad dreams, I woke up as I felt how we were descending. A few minutes later the plane came to a stop. Taking my bag once more, I said good bye to the Lieutenant and left the plane. Just as I made myself a little bit away from the plane, it turned it’s engines on and took off once more. I was standing now completely alone on a open airfield. There was not even a building in the near, no ground control and only few landing zone lights. Do I have hallucinations, or does it smell like rain. Please don’t- ah. “Great.” I mumbled.

Just as I thought about, it began slowly to rain. “Pick up please? Anywhere?” begging to a higher force, as the rain just got heavier. Approximately 10 minutes passed as I saw a big van coming my way. Most of my clothes were drenched already. “Six weeks vacation. Thanks for nothings.” I mumbled once more. I was mad, so mad that I didn’t even planned to speak properly. They’ll get my full force of the south.

The Van came to a stop in front of me. A man with a mohawk stepped out of the car and smiled at me as if the sun just rose. “Ma’am, Sergeant l/n? Mah names Sergeant MacTavish.” He holds his hand out and I took it. He’s Scottish, I guess? “Sergeant, call may y/n playze.” As I spoke he looked at me a little confused, but then smiled even bigger. “Then ye ca' me Soap.” He replied. Now it was me who looked a little confused. “Call sign?” I asked. He only nodded. Then he turned to the van and told me to hop on. As we drove off the airfield, he apologised. “A'm sorry ye hud tae hauld yer horses in th' smirr. Th' message that th' plane lands earlier didnae reached us richt awa'.”

“Sir, with all due respect, Ah didn't understand uh word.” I told him, hoping he will not be mad. And he wasn’t, the opposite, he laughed loud and was so kind to repeat it in English. “I said, I'm sorry you had to wait in the rain. The message that the plane lands earlier didn't reached us right away. Don’t bother to tell me when you don’t understand anything. I love to mess with people that way. Lt. is my biggest fan.” The last sentence was with sarcasm packed.

I giggled at him. “Thought Ahm thonly wun who luvs tuh piss uh paypul with thur accent.“ I giggled once more as he looked at me as if I spoke Japanese. Then he laughed. “So you thought, you are the only one who loves to piss of people, with your accent? Is this southern?” He asked as we turned towards a military base. I smiled and said plain, “Yes, Ahm frum georgia. Ah can spake english as wayul, but i'm too tired. Gist came back frum africa.“ I didn’t even tried to speak properly. To tired, too mad, too anti everything. I just want Food and rest. He stopped the car and spoke to me once more before leaving the car. “Do nae speak to Lt. lik' that. He'll murder ye.” With this he laughed and left the car. I quickly followed him into a smaller building.

Inside, Soap showed me the kitchen, bathrooms and my bedroom. “If ye'r hungry, we bought some things ye might lik'. Wrote yer name oan it. Git some rest, we'll hae briefing at 8 am.” With this he left me alone in my bedroom. First I’ll take the shower, then grab some food and then, sleep! It’s already 1:00 am. I should hurry.

In less than 30 minutes I got all done and laid in bed. The food was okey, they bought some Texas styled rice with vegetables. I had better, but still better than military bag ratios. Not even five minutes passed, as I entered dreamland.

As my alarm ripped me out of my dream at 7:30 am, I felt how tired my body still was. Slowly rising from the bed, I stretched and got myself ready. Quickly, because I didn’t want to miss breakfast or be to late for the briefing. It supposed to get cold outside, so I threw another jacket on, heading now towards the kitchen. Few people were there. Some were eating, some only chatting and some were drinking something steamy. But it didn’t smell like coffee. I guess nobody here drinks coffee.

“Good mornin' y/n. How was yer rest?” Soap greeted me from a small table near the door. “Oh hey Soap, haven’t seen you there.” I said to him a little bit still tired but I was able to pull myself together. He suddenly looked at me confused. “Na! Where is yer cool accent? We need it to piss off Lt.” he said as he puffed out his cheeks in frustration. I could only laugh. He really wanted to use me against his Lieutenant? I ignored his act of mischief and returned with a question to him. “yawl hav coffee?“ soap was clearly happy about that, he pointed to the place next to him, where was set a cup, a pack of instant coffee, sugar and milk. “This is heaven.” I said and sat next to him, the rest 10 minutes I was having breakfast with soap and a good chat about God knows what.

„We gotta go.“ Soap said, placing the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I did the same and followed him out of the building, across the yard into a bigger building. I followed him into a meeting room, where were a couple of people already waiting. A man with a beard came to me, he held out his hand and said: „Sergeant l/n, it’s good to have you here ma‘am. I’m captain Price.“ I shook his hand and smiled. „Captain, please call me y/n. I’d like to say it’s nice to be here, but looking at the circumstances, it’s not the best reason to meet.“ he laughed a bit. The rest of the team seemed amused itself.

But the atmosphere crashed as I heard a low, light raspy voice speaking behind me. „Wow, you must be are a real fucking hit.“ i turned around and my blood froze when I looked into almost dead glaring eyes, hidden behind a skull mask. Soap tapped me on the shoulder and laughed. „Ey ya, Lt. how was you rest. Did ya sleep well? This is ma freish mukker. Ye'll loue her.“ soap pushed me forward to the creepy man, it felt like he’s using me a human shield. Soap what the hell! I thought. The eyes of the Man grew even more dark. „Speak English MacTavish.“ he growled.

I get it. It is the Lt. Soap talked about. The one he loves to piss of with his Scottish. Then soap, tapped on my shoulder again. „Yo y/n. Don’t want to greet the lt. properly. In your native slang please.“ he giggled like a little devil brat. I frowned as I looked back at soap: „Absolutely not. He looks like he can kill me with only his eyes. I don’t want to die just yet!“ I hissed at Soap. The lieutenant chuckled in amusement. „Smart girl I’d say. You should listen to her Johnny.“ with this he closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall. Soap just huffed and leaned next to the Lt. then he signed me to place myself next to him, as I did, a women entered the room. „I’m sorry for being late.“ she said, while greeting the captain. „No problem, Kate. Can we begin?“ he replied casually. I like them already. The captain and the team seem friendly, soap and I seem to get well along already and the lieutenant is probably not as bad as i think. We will see. As the women named Kate set up different things at the white board, she looked at me. I guess it’s my time to shine. She smiled and walked towards me; I did the same out of respect. “Ma’am, Sergeant l/n. I’m Laswell, keeping everything here together.” I shook her hand and replied. “Ma’am, call me y/n. It’s a pleasure to help out.” She smiled and pointed at the whiteboard. “Would you please let the team know what we need to know. I’m sure not all information has reached me just yet.” With me following her, the meeting began.

After 45 minutes, the briefing was eventually over. The plan was clear. Talk to contacts, find out the locations of the missile, get them covered and find Johnson.

“This time I’ll get that Bastard“ i swore beneath my breath as we packed the trucks. I was just done with my stuff as I looked to the right, there was Soap and the lieutenant, standing and staring. „Is there a problem?“ I asked. The lieutenant shook his head slowly, but soap had a concerned look on his face. „Tell y/n, your thing is personal with Johnson isn’t it?“ he asked calmly but a bit worried. Now it was me who shook the head. „Nah.“ I said briefly. Then I turned to Gaz, „Do we need more refills over there?“ I asked. Hoping he would give me something to do, so I can avoid more question from soap. I don’t want to talk about Johnson. Too much has happened. Too much, what makes the hunt personal. But it’s nothing they should matter about. After I helped Gaz with few more tasks, Price came to us. „Ready to go?“ he asked and Gaz nodded on response. He’s a quite type hm. But seems sympathetic. We got In the truck and I sat next to soap. On the opposite side was the lieutenant sitting. First I thought nothing, but after while, I realised that he was staring at me. The whole time. If he spaced out? I looked at soap and ask with my gesture what’s wrong with LT. Soap started giggling like a little girl. Then he tapped me on the shoulder again. „See, y/n. If you try hard enough, you two might get a hang on telepathy. Let me know when it worked.“ he laughed. But the lieutenant looked away. He’s weird. Maybe he tried to read my mind. After a few more minutes we arrived at an old factory. According to contacts, we would here find a group of crooks who know more about Johnson.

Jumping out of the truck, the lieutenant and I were supposed to get in from the back doors. We made our way around the factory park. Gun aimed, approaching the doors. There were two doors and two seperate hallways. We split up and would meet again after around 100 meters. „Stay on radio.“ the lieutenant said to me before I entered the building. „Yes sir.“ I answered.

As I made my way through the hallway, I could barely see clear through my night vision. After a few more steps I received a radio call from the skull masked man. „What’s your status?“ - „all clear, sir.“ I responded while heading forward. Short after, I heard a clicking and decided to check. „This is not a horror game“ I whispered to myself. As I approached the clicking, I become more tense. Now kneeling i tried to see if there was anything hiding behind the water tanks. A mouse. It was just a little mouse. I giggled quietly and rose to my feet again. „I found a very dangerous animal behind the water tanks.“ I said over radio. „A mouse?“ the lieutenant asked. „Yes“ I answered giggling. He didn’t respond. What a joy killer.

I checked the rest of the area before heading to the reconnection to meet the lieutenant and receive new orders. So far, I didn’t met any of the possible contacts. Just as I was about to turn the corner I received a radio call: “sight on any targets?” The lieutenant asked. “Nothing sir. Just dust and trash - ah. Oh shit.” Just as I made my last steps to the meeting zone, I felt a sharp pain in my leg. Looking down on it, I saw blood. My pants are already turning red. It must be a deep cut. I leaned against the wall, took some scissors out of my bag pack and started cutting my pants. “Y/n. Come in! What’s the matter?“ Lt. Asked over radio. I must stop the bleeding. Quickly. “Sir, not sure what happened, but I’m bleeding out.” I responded quickly and focused on my wounds. Starting to apply a pressure bandage, I heard footsteps coming closer. “Lt. Is that you?” I whispered. I was not ready for fighting right now. But I didn’t get any response either, so instead of biding the bandage properly around my leg, i just tied it once to apply a little pressure. It won’t last long but with that I was moveable with my knife in one hand as I hid behind a pillar. The footsteps came closer and it got heavier to breath for me. I lost already a lot of blood, If I don’t get medical attention to the wound, I could pass out.

“Y/n? You know I can see you behind the pillar?” The familiar low, light raspy voice spoke behind me. “Did you just call me fat?” I protested as I put my knife away. The lieutenant came to me, he kneeled and took a flashlight out. Then he picked a bandage out of his bag and started applying a pressure bandage. “Sir, I can do that myself. No assistance required.” I spoke quickly, trying to get him back on his feet. It made me feel a little uneasy to see a big guy with a skull mask squatting down in front of me. He didn’t say anything, just applied the bandage, then he stood up again. Looking in my eyes he shook his head slowly. “How’d you do that?” He asked not looking away once. I think he is trying to read my mind again. “I.. uh.. I honestly don’t know. I’ve seen few wire traps already, but I took them all down.” I picked up my bag pack to break the eye contact, but when I looked back at him, he frowned. “Guess not all.” He said. “It’s a clean cut. Wire cut.” He continued. “Can you walk? Back to the truck. Your mission ends here.” His voice changed the tone, sentence by sentence. Now he sounded worried. I shook my head to focus on his question again. “Uh yes sir. I can.” With those words, I started walking to the back doors, but the more steps I took, the bigger grew the pain and more slowly moved time. I think I’m fainting slowly. I had to stop, holding against the wall for support. My head hurts, my body started shaking and my ears began drumming.

The lieutenant stood next to me, I looked at him and said calmly. “No worries. Just a second.” I took another deep breath, but he suddenly pushed me with my back against the wall and kneeled backwards down in front of me. “I don’t think so.” He said as he grabbed my hands and pulled me on his back. As he walked a little bent over, so I don’t fall off, my mind was spinning more and more. "What a waste of time." I mumbled beneath my breath. The lieutenant chuckled light, "Better a waste of time, than a waste of life." he said. "True. Still, I'm sorry sir. I-" he cut me off. “Quit that sir shit. It’s ghost.“ he said harshly. I took a breath to answer something as we left the building but he stopped abruptly. „You know what. Call me Simon.“ his voice was not more than a whisper. Does he mean that for real. Soap told me only a few chosen people are allowed to call him by his last name and even less people are allowed to call him by his first name. I felt honoured and smiled. „Thank you Simon.“ with those words, I felt how my heartbeat fasten my ears were ringing louder. Simon was saying something like. „don’t tell anyone or -„ but I couldn’t hear more. I passed out.

„God, my head.“ I muttered with incredible pain. Slowly sitting up, I realise that I was in my bed at the base. Ah yes. I passed out. I remember. I tried to get up from bed, still a little dizzy I had to sit down once again. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and got dressed properly. Making my way out of my room down the hallway. Nobody is in the kitchen, of course, I looked at the clock and saw It’s 3 am. We were at the factory at 12 pm. I was gone for quite some time. I let out a sigh and checked the fridge. I’m only a little hungry. Hm. There is a chocolate pudding with my name on it. I took it and sat down at a small table. Soaked in my thoughts I ate the pudding. It was so silent, the only thing I heard was the clock ticking and the fridge humming.

„I Hope that’s not my pudding“ jumping out of my skin as I heard the low voice whispering directly in my ear. „Holy shit!“ I Yelled, spinning around to face ghost. „Are you trying to kill me lieutenant!“ I yelled at him. He chuckled. „I will kill you if you eat my pudding.“ he poked me at the forehead. „And I told you, it’s ghost.“ he spoke, then he only mumbled „or Simon.“ looking away from me. I couldn’t help it but giggled. "okey, Simon. Why are you still up anyway?" I asked him, he almost jumped as I said his name, but finally looked back at me. He cleared his throat and said "I just came to check on you." somehow I did not really believe that he wanted to check on me. I mean, it's 3 am. He pointed at the pudding and asked with a serious voice: "So, do you have a death wish?" I laughed and shook my head. "Nope. This is mine. I would not touch your stuff. Simon." As I said his name again, this time slower, he suddenly looked away again. Then he cleared his throat and left the kitchen. "Good night." he said and disappeared. What was that…

Hm. I was still thinking about him as I walked back to my room. My leg still hurts but I can walk normally already. As I got ready for the night, someone knocked at my door. It can only be Ghost, right? I walked to the door and open it. There he was, Ghost – in a tight shirt. God damn, is that man hot. His muscles were showing through the fabric. One arm covered in ink, casually in his pocket, as with the other he was leaning against the door frame. I had no idea what to say. All I wanted, was to touch him. I know I should not think that. But it doesn’t hurt anyone if it’s only in my head.

I’m getting more and more hot, in all regions of my body. That urge to touch him is growing stronger. My words are stuck, my heartbeat and my breathing gets faster. He says nothing. He just stands there, looking at me. How does he looks beneath his mask? I want to know how he looks without any kind of fabric. Anywhere. I took a deep breath, I had to stop and ask what he wants. “Simon?” I asked. It was more a whispering than an actual tone. He just stands there, burning my skin with his piercing eyes. Then he let go of the door frame and moved closer to me. I stood my ground. Not moving, not thinking. Just admiring his beautiful eyes, his strong body, his intense personality.

As his face is just a few millimetres away from mine, I can hear and feel him breathing through the mask. It’s heavy and even more hot than my burning body. Biting my lip in ache of the situation, he chuckled quietly. Then he lifted his hand and took my chin. Raising my head so I can’t look away. His lips are right there, right in front of mine. If he would not have that mask on, I would have lost control already and kiss him. Then he said in a deep aching voice. “Close your eyes. Do not peak.” I didn’t even think about anything, just did as he told me. As everything was dark, all that’s left where my senses of hearing, smelling and feeling. His breath is heavy, he smells so good, and his hand feels so hot holding my chin. Then, his lips met mine. No fabric, just pure soft lips. He kissed me carefully, as I returned the kiss, he kissed me harder. One hand grabbed my waist, and he pulled me closer. One hand of me was holding at his shoulder, the other his neck. He was burning, but so was me.

We kissed more, with his tongue he asked for permission, and I granted it. With our tongues dancing, by body began to get weak and my mind was already completely gone. I was filled with ecstasy. With burning desire, to have more of him. He lifted my shirt lightly and began to stroke my back with his hot hand. As ghost pulled me even more close I knew what I wanted. Slowly I walked backwards, pulling him with me.

Then suddenly he let go of me. As I opened my eyes, he was gone. I looked at left and right and saw him just turning the corner. He was gone.

Still breathing heavy. I closed the door and sit on my bed. Now my mind was completely gone. What the hell. I felt heartbroken, disappointed, and angry. He said nothing. He just left. How rude. I sat on my bed, trying to clear my thoughts. Naw mah friend. Yawl made may mad now. Yawl mess with thuh saowthern girl, yawl’ll git thuh horns. I said to myself. Then I got ready for the night, hopping into bed, I was all back to business again. Ready for being professional, and ‘forgetting’ anything that just happened between us.

Alright, I hope you enjoyed it ^^ Let me know if you want me to continue the story.

If you need a scottish translator or a southern drawl translator, here you go:

Scottish / Southern

[azvainia]

He/him lesbian discourse is stupid, and here’s why; bare with me this may be a bit bumpy of a ride but I promise I have a point

CONTENT WARNING: mentions of heavy topics such as bigotry and SA. if you’re not mentally up to it, just scroll. inane discourse is not worth your mental health.

Throughout my time existing in the queer community, I’ve noticed that there is always a group that’s ostracized for being too “different” from the rest of the pack, or are hard for others not in their situation to understand.

The worst part is it doesn’t just happen in the queer community, it seems to happen everywhere, in every space that humans inhabit and form groups in. you may have noticed, for example, that queer people are an outgroup to those who are cis/straight. It’s a line of people, each more niche than the one before them, all saying “You? You can’t be with us. You’re not one of us.” until we get to the end and we’re talking about problems on the fringes of the internet, like this very post.

Don’t get me wrong. There are some people who need to be ostracized to keep the peace as well as maintain safety in a space—Including, but not limited to: Nazis/fascists, racists, homophobes, pedos/zoos, etc. specifically when they are actively causing harm to others (remember rehabilitation though, if someone has grown out of a previous pattern of behavior that aligns with something that caused harm, I don’t think they should be permanently barred from our communities). At the end of the day, there’s always going to be people like this who are hateful, and I believe it’s important to keep in mind that relationships are complicated too. Some people will tolerate certain harmful behaviors because of circumstances like jobs or familial relations, and some would immediately cut them off. I think it’s all down to your preferences. It’s your life, after all.

My issue with this Ostracization comes in when it’s done to those who are not causing harm. I’ll start big picture here. I’m thinking first and foremost of the historical rift between women and men. I’m no expert on ancient bigotries, but if I had to guess I would expect misogyny to be an older one. I can hear it now. “They’re meek and they’re biologically engineered to be weaker than us!” Are they causing any harm? Is there any real reason to treat them worse than men? Next I think of racism, which is inconceivably annoying. “Oh no, their skin is a different color! They have different customs than I do!”boo hoo.

Of course next we can look at queer history. First, straight people push out gays. Because they can’t have biological children? Because they’re threatening masculinity? Whatever. Then, in spite of black trans women like Marsha P. Johnson leading the Stonewall Riots, cis queers ostracize trans people to make themselves more palatable (despite the fact that when given the chance, bigots would be fine with all of us wiped off the face of the earth). And when trans people become a bit more widely known and accepted (relatively so)? Soon, gender-non-conforming trans ppl like non-binary, agender, and genderfluid people are the next target, forming the trans-medicalist debate while trans people in general are still struggling to fight the narrative that they would assault people in the bathrooms of their aligning gender.

So we’ve finally caught up. In many modern queer communities, gnc trans people are accepted as just another part of the alphabet mafia. But there must be another sacrifice. Neopronouns and He/him lesbians. Years of oppression, and we still can’t seem to break the cycle. To those who have issues with people who use these labels, I ask you sincerely. Why?

If you are a lesbian, no one is forcing you to date someone who identifies as a lesbian while also being “male-aligned” in some way. The same way no one is obligating cis people to date trans people just because they’re an ally or whatever. Please consider; are these people you so despise and call lesbiophobic truly doing any harm other than existing? I thought that the trans community was all about breaking gender norms and being your truest self. Is excluding lesbians who are masculine or use he/him not enforcing the whole “blue= boy” shit all over again? Yes, “he/him” is most often used for men or masculine people, but just like gender roles and gender itself, it’s just a concept we humans made up. With time, everything shifts, changes, and grows.

Let us grow together. Let us feel the magic of queer joy together. Even if you don’t entirely understand it, live and let live.

Realistically I know that gatekeeping and discourse like this will never end, but even if one more person reflects and tries to be more inclusive, more thoughtful, more empathetic, I will be happy. If you got this far ily, take care of yourself and live your best life.