#kyle barker

[livingsingle-tv]

Erika Alexander and T.C. Carson reprising their roles as Maxine Shaw and Kyle Barker and Briana Hodge as their daughter, Kyla Barker, on Half & Half (Season 3, Episode 14 – The Big Performance Anxiety Episode)

Maxine: I've got a meeting to go over some documents tonight, so Kyla should just stay at your place. Kyle: Ohh. I'm always delighted to spend time with my seed, my little cherub, my progeny. Maxine: You never could just keep it simple. Kyla: Dad, I'm gonna need two hours of play time before homework, some chocolate chip cookies, and a 15% increase in my living expenses. And that's not negotiable. There better be some fresh donuts on that snack table.

[fourorfivemovements]

Films Watched in 2024: 83. Candyman (2021) - Dir. Nia DaCosta

[breadythanever]

More Internship.

I love this game so much I ended up having the funny cat as a comfort character. Same with Backy.

[im-notbean]

cod mafia au; like an overview

ok this is very silly i just got the idea and i need to writ it down

141

Leaders: John "Captain" Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Think of Price as this very dominating man whos all business and cigars, he's got a bit of a soft side for pretty men and women

Simon is built like a goddamned tank, he's a hunk and more down to earth but he knows his place. hes all business but has a good laugh here and their

Kyle's a stoner, he handles the drugs for a reason. he knows he's got a pretty face and uses that all the time, hes pretty much not very down to earth but he's the most loyal man Price ever knew and thats why he's still around

Soap's a barker, always pushing buttons and showing off with his too tight shirts and he's got a lethal puppy dog eyes. he's loyal but a fucking time bomb weather he's playing nice today or not

Gary's quiet, not by choice but because he's survived a fire. He came from a small apartment in east London and met Price, he's the first and Price's objective favorite because can you blame him. Gary's a tought cookie and has a knack for surviving any situation

Los Vaqueros

Leaders: Alejandro "Ale" Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Alejandro is a man of war, raised in the trenches of a cartel he left his old life to overcome the stereotype. he did but went south trying to fix his biggest regret

Rudy is brash, he was a rich kid with an even more powerful father who hated his son. Rudy joined because he knew Alejandro wouldn't stop until the cartel died. They both know the risk yet dive into it anyway

The two are a dynamic duo, if you see one the other isn't far away. they fuck around, kiss each other with a passion that rivals even the most secure marriages

They let themselves indulge in each other and with two conventionally sexy men making out, its a ploy to lure a sirens song but with heavy kisses and hickies

Las Almas

Leader: Valeria "Sin Nombre" Garza

Valeria is not ome to fuck around, shes a women in a male dominated field. and shes fucking adorable

one minute she'll be threatning to cut your dick off and the next shes patting your head as you tell her everything. her voice and bodie rival supper models, if sirens were real she'd have the body of one

she's sweet but a psychopath, after all she killed her second in command as soon as he started questioning her authority.

sweet but a fucking physco

Shadow Company

Leader: Phillip "Commander" Graves

Graves is a man with an accent thick as honey, it's southern american charm never leaving a single vowel he speaks

although Graves' company is a PMC his men know that they are more than just that, their a fucking unit with a hand on the government's most valued assest and claim to be "looking" for anything that goes missing

Graves admires the men and women he calls his shadows, each one more unique than the last. his land might not be as large as 141's but he makes sure his is under order and not rioting

the people who live under his land never leave, they know they are much better thier than in any other part of the other mafias territories

[gatorbites-imagines]

Might be weird to ask but petplay? I just think certain COD men *cough cough* soap *cough cough* would be esp good as dumb puppies y'know?

COD petplay headcanons

Little do you know anon, I enjoy petplay, so this is no weird question at all. And you are so right. Petplay COD be upon ye.

Ill be going on holiday all of next week, so if you guys are fine with shorter replies i can write some on my phone, let me know what you think.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Soap is such a good pup, kind of a brat sometimes but its because he wants your attention. You’ll catch him crawling around with your clothes in his mouth or half crawled under the kitchen table, his lower body still sticking out as he chews on something he shouldn’t be chewing on.

Whines loudly and paws at your leg for attention any time you aren’t paying attention to him. Can’t you see how good he’s being? How tempted his tummy is when he rolls onto his back? Don’t you wanna rub it?

The type to crawl around in a jockstrap, a harness, a collar, a puphood and pup gloves. Don’t forget the plug with a tail attached so he can wag so prettily for you, or so it can wag all over the place when he’s feeling playful.

Sadly, you’ll have to punish the poor pup on the regular, he makes a mess and can’t keep himself from humping your leg or crawling onto the furniture to lick and bite at you. Its not unusual to find him humping pillows in your bedroom, whining for you.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Hes more calm than the others, but don’t expect that means he’s less of a troublemaker. Will steal your keys or your clothes and hide them under the bed, or under his dog bed so that you can’t leave. Will chew on your belts and throw your laundry all over the place.

A whiner too, has this warbled pathetic sounding whine he lets out when you tell him to stay still and quiet so you can work, but settles down if hes allowed to wrap around your feet. It always ends up with him chewing or licking your ankles though.

Wears a getup similar to Soap, with the jockstrap, harness, hood and gloves. Likes how it makes him dependent on you as his master to take care of him. Sometimes he just gets home from a mission, puts on his hood, and lays down with his head in your lap to calm down from the day.

Tries to be more sneaky when he’s horny, like subtly grinding into the floor or his dog bed, or sitting down and wiggling in his spot so he can move his plug around inside him. You always catch him though, since he starts that warbly whine when he gets close but can’t finish without you.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The most well-behaved pup, think like a well-trained military dog. Always standing straight on all fours, back straight, head lifted, and chest puffed out. He soaks up any praise you give him with a gruff bark and a small wag.

Doesn’t regularly whine, is more of a barker or growler. He growls the most if there are other pups around that try to get close to you or play with him, as he’s always standing on guard in front of you. You always have to muzzle him around other pups cuz Ghost does nip at times, especially when other pups are acting up and he needs to correct their behavior.

Tends to do play either fully dressed in his military gear, just a tail strapped to his belt and a customized hood with his skull paint. Or fully naked, only wearing maybe a harness, a spikey collar, his hood, his tail, and a cockcage unless you need it off.

If Ghost is in the mood, you’ll invite other pups over (unless you are poly and have multiple partners who are pups) and Ghost will assert himself as the alpha amongst them. This is where you take the cage off him so he can push down the other pups and take them. He will always arch his back for you though, or roll onto his back and spread his legs with a tiny barely audible whine for you.

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

A very quiet pup and doesn’t act up much, tends to be more on the chill side. Hes even allowed in the furniture since he wont mess it up like others, and likes to curl up beside you with his head in your lap.

When hes feeling it though, like if you’ve been apart for a while, he might start growing antsy. Crawling around in front of you or sitting right by your feet and letting out tiny barely audible whines. It always ends up with him pawing at your knee and looking at you with the most lethal puppy eyes ever.

Doesn’t wear as much gear at the others, I don’t think he would enjoy the gloves that make his hands unusable, and the hood might feel too restrictive to him. Instead hed just resort to walking on his knuckles, wearing a headband with ears, and maybe wearing a belt with a tail on top of his boxers.

A licker, he doesn’t say much, but you will know he’s truly in the mood when he starts licking you all over. Licking at your hands, your legs, your torso, slobbering all over your pants and crotch until you open your belt and give him what he wants.

Phillip Graves

Another troublemaking pup, a brat. Rips up pillows and gnaws on your belts and wallet. The type you have to play tug of war with for your belt as he growls and yips, wagging his tail and drooling on the floor.

The kinda pup you’ll have to spank and punish in other ways, not out of this world to put him in a cockcage or crate for the night if he’s acted out way too much. He enjoys it very much though, so it’s nothing he hasn’t asked for himself. Graves has probably come up with some of the punishments himself.

Hes fully geared up, hood, gloves, tail and all, except he wouldn’t wear a jockstrap, just fully naked expect for the pup parts. Hes not always wearing a cage as its only for punishment, so you can catch him grinding against stuff sometimes.

The most effective punishment for him is overstimulation, laying him across your lap and jerking him off until he’s whining and writhing and shaking, where after you’ll let him cuddle against your chest after cleaning him up, praising him and giving him good aftercare.

[sp-by-april]

What's your headcannon of the South Park character's future jobs disregarding of the canon future that is Post Covid?

I love PC, it's so difficult to throw it all out... but I'll do my best. 😭

💔 Cartman - Conman It's theatrical. It's what he already does. Donning different characters and swindling people of money, goods and services comes to him like breathing.

🤍 Butters - Pimp He goes back to his roots. His hoes are unionized and... Okay, fine. Marketing. He's great at selling shit. He'd make a (real) start-up, do regional work and then national campaigns. He'd get to sit in a room with other dudes and actually have them listen to his ideas and convince people to buy shit.

🧡 Kenny - Guidance Counselor I like rich Kenny, but I really love the conversation he has in Mackey's car. Mackey is one of the few adults to praise Kenny and seeing him say he think Kenny would be great to fill his role when he's gone is really sweet. Idk I just love it!

💚 Kyle - Fullstack Coding Kyle is good with tech (he was even an ipad once! /hj) and extremely online. Plus I think he'd like the idea of having a sanctuary (his office) and working from home. Kyle is a family man, he'd appreciate the extra time with his kids and extra opportunities to fuck his wife (me) stupid.

💙 Stan - Music Teacher/Tutor At 19, Crimson Dawn had one song on the bubbling under chart, but that was their peak. They broke up for a while, and Stan started teaching to scrape by. A few years later, Crimson Dawn is on much better terms and will get together for reunions and play small local venues whenever Jimmy is in town. His music students always show up to cheer him on.

💜 Tolkien - Wildcard. A Sociologist. Meterologist. Economist. Farmer. DEI Consultant (/hj). Zoologist. Carnival Barker. Actor turned Rapper (aka the Childish Gambino). Rapper turned Actor. (aka the Will Smith). Literally anything but a fucking cop.

💛 Jimmy - Showrunner of a Sitcom on CBS Jimmy's never gonna stop chasing his dream. He's incredibly talented and more importantly - he works on his craft. He starts as a staff writer and pitches a bland sitcom to CBS as a joke but they love it and hire him as Showrunner/Executive Producer.

[prettyoddfever]

Local God doesn't fit Ryan Ross

I'm still getting a couple questions about this, so let's go through each line in the beginning of the song...

In 1998, you bought a B.C. Rich: Here's how Ryan described his actual first guitar that his dad bought as a present around 1999 (the year was generally ballparked in interviews): "I kept begging my dad for a guitar. I picked out an off-brand, a Harmony, I think, out of the Sears Christmas catalog. It came with a battery-powered amp. It was $100 for everything." That is such a far cry from a B.C. Rich.

You were a master shredder from the jump: Just no. Ryan told Ultimate Guitar that "In the beginning, probably about the first year, I just tried to do it on my own. It was really, really frustrating. So I took lessons for a little while." And the songs he was trying to play in the early years were easy. Spencer told Drum Magazine in 2007 that “blink-182 was a great band for Ryan to play to because the guitar parts were all three-chord songs. But Travis Barker’s drum parts were so far musically beyond that – it was just frustrating.”

Blew them all away with the Ritalin kids while I was shedding through my sophomore slump: None of this applies. Ryan & Spencer were basically just messing around in a garage for years. Here's Spencer reminiscing: “I set up my drum kit in my parent’s garage. Ryan would then come over and he’d bring his first little 25 watt amp with him and we’d go from there. We’d cover songs, try and write our own; it was great fun. A couple neighbors came over and complained about the noise... As long as we didn’t play too late, most people were really cool about it." Spencer talked about how they came up with original material that was "20 or 25 songs that were just horrific sounding, just horrible.” Ryan said that “they were some pretty terrible songs!" In late 2003 their band was trying to get into a small local battle of the bands, but meanwhile some of their peers like Kyle Lobeck were in solid bands that were playing actual shows (ex: Brown Eyed Deception). The Summer League wasn't in that scene.

You had so many chances to become a star, But you never really cared about that: Yeah he didn't seek fame itself, but he absolutely cared about the big chances that were presented to P!ATD because being bigger & more famous would allow the band to do what they wanted. So this one is iffy idk.

And all of this is just taking Local God at surface value without looking at the context of where it falls in the album. Viva Las Vengeance was brilliantly done in my opinion. The songs are deliberately arranged to tell a story, and Maggie symbolizes so much. It doesn't make sense to me for Local God to be about Ryan. I mentioned more in this post about how song lyrics are up for interpretation, though, so that's just my opinion.

[herebecritters]

Some of my Htf related art fight attacks this year

Plus a bonus screwy!

Crunchy and Shakey @amiyourhirohtf

Barker and Kyle @technicoloranimalviolence

Possum @int3rn3tslim3

Nibbles @jurbily

Wacky @cyb00gie

Icky and Screwy @ickyguts

[ibreathestories]

I thought this was the perfect party role for Kyle in helping celebrate Mr. Barker's birthday!

[kennedydrives]

thomas & mary ann kyle barker

married 1880 in illinois after both immigrated from scotland. together, they had andrew (b. 1883) , sophia (b. 1888), thomas (b. 1890), and sarah dorothy (b. 1897) - though there are suspicions that thomas is not sarah dorothy's father

on july 12, 1903, thomas's skull was fractured during an argument with his wife over the temperature of coffee. mary ann struck him with a stove lid, after he reportedly choked her. thomas passed july 13

above is a picture of sarah dorothy, her husbund william henry grady jennings, and an unknown (presumable relative) boy - she only had daughters (whom thomas & mary ann never met). information about her siblings is obscure

thomas & mary ann's headstones are unknown

[formulatrash]

I enjoyed the NASCAR DTS thing (forget what it's called, push to drive or something) and it's well worth watching. some highlights:

the entire first episode just refusing to explain what the playoffs are, except that it is essential you get to the playoffs. this is America, if you need to ask what the playoffs are instead of just getting your ass into them then you're doing it wrong

Bubba Wallace absolutely losing his mind during media day is actually the greatest montage ever committed to video

Christopher Bell being the NASCAR driver who even while he was driving a NASCAR I kept having to remind myself was not an IndyCar driver. no one has ever looked less like he drives for Mr H not Sopping Wet Wholesome Boy White Bread Racing or something

Denny Hamlin's dad is a delight

speaking of sopping wet white boys William Byron has all the hallmarks of a Tumblr favourite

Bootie Barker is who every team principal on DTS wishes they were

despite the presence of Kyle Larson (derogatory) who was kind of only there narratively, the drivers they picked to profile were a good spread of the field and you get a good idea of the sport from them

[brokecorviknight]

Hatchetfield Pokémon AU - Partner List:

Main Characters:

TGWDLM:

Paul Matthews - Exploud

Emma Perkins - Porygon

BF:

Tom Houston - Donphan

Becky Barnes - Comfey

Lex Foster - Zigzagoon (Cressellia is also here)

Hannah Foster - Mew

NPMD:

Pete Spankoffski - Stoutland

Steph Lauter - Luxray

Grace Chasity - Hatterene

Max Jägerman - Passimian

LIB:

Wiggly (Wiggog Y’rath) / Wendell (Dark/Psychic)

Nibbly (Nibblenephim) / Nicky (Dark/Psychic)

Pokey (Pokotho) / Porter (Dark/Psychic)

Blinky (Bliklotep) / Blaine (Dark/Psychic)

Tinky (T’noy Karaxis) / Theo (Theodore) (Dark/Psychic)

Webby (Queen in White) / Wendy (Psychic/Dark)

Important Characters:

TGWDLM:

Ted Spankoffski - Volcarona

Bill Woodward - Leavanny

Alice Woodward - Skitty

Prof. Henry Hidgens - Liligant

Gen. John MacNamara - Genesect

BF:

Ethan Greene - Cyclizar

Linda Monroe - Vespiqueen

Tim Houston - Cubone

NPMD:

Richie Lipschitz - Gallade

Ruth Fleming - Sprigatito

Solomon Lauter - Honchkrow

Detective Shapiro - Pikachu

NT:

Henry (Fake Prof. Henry Hidgens) - Mimikyu

Lucy Stockworth - Gholdengo

Wooly-Foot - Galrian Darmanitan

Konk (Ted Spankoffski) - Darmanitan

Pryce Perkins (Paul Matthews 23) - Ditto

Emilia Matthews (Emma Perkins Android) - MissingNo

Time Bastard / Homeless Man (Ted Spankoffski) - Iron Moth and Slither Wing

Jane Houston (Perkins) - Revaroom

Miss Holloway - Hypno

Duke Keane - Snorlax

Gerald Monroe - Vivallon

Perky (Emma Perkins) - Aribolva

Ziggy - Shiftry

Jeri - Nidoqueen

Jerry - Nidoking

Lumber Axe (Lil’ Jerry) - Witchwood Haxorus

Shelia Young - Froslass

Rose - Toxtricity

Melissa - Meowstick (Female)

Puss - Espeon

Named Characters:

TGWDLM:

Greenpeace girl / Harmony Jones - Shaymin

Ken Davidson - Grumpig

Charlotte Sweetly - Oinkalogne

Sam Sweetly - Braviary

Nora - Minccino

Zoey Chambers - Alcreamie

Deb - Liepard

BF:

Frank Pricely - Sableye

Sherman Young - Salazzle

Gary Goldstein - Meowth

Uncle Wiley / Wilbur Cross - Tentacruel

Man in a Hurry / Barry Swift - Yanmega

Dude with Peanut - Pachirisu (Peanut)

Xander Lee - Empoleon

President - Unfezant (Male)

NPMD:

Mark Chasity - Flapple

Karen Chasity - Appletun

Off. Bailey - Skarmory

Kyle - Chesnaught

Brenda - Oricorio (Electric)

Jason - Bastiodon

Caitlyn - Altaria

Ms. Mulberry- Audino

Ms. Tessburger - Corsola

Rudolph - Sawsbuck

Brook - Finneon

Trevor Lipschitz - Magcargo

NT:

Allison - Lanturn

Madame Iris - Reuniclus

Craig - Tropius

Barker - Coalossal

Rupert - Gigalith

Jonathan Brisby - Tyrantrum

Sylvia - Floatzel

Andy / Executive Kilgore - Aggron

Jenny - Milotic

Dan Reynolds - Karrablast

Donna Daggit - Shelmet

Tony Greene - Klingklang

Jacqueline Frost - Glaceon

Pamala Foster - Komala

Roman Murray - Morpeko

River Monroe - Combee (Male) or Teddyursa

Trent Monroe - Venomoth

Seaton Monroe - Ninjask

Jordan Monroe - Shuckle

Malone - Octillery

Hailey - Skuntank

Zach Chambers - Gogoat

Liz - Beartic

Judith - Butterfree

Martha - Clawitzer

Mary - Bibarel

Mima Chambers - Drampa

Bob Metzger - Witchwood Aegislash

Carl Metzger - Witchwood Doublade

Larz Metzger - Witchwood Doublade

Louie Metzger - Witchwood Honedge

Mary - Medichan

Noah - Furret

Gabe - Sudowoodo

Marco - Copperajah

Kale - Chatot

Thrash - Noivern

Skud - Rillaboom

Courtney - Zebstrika

Russ - Scovillain

Beth - Centiskorch

Eddie Chiplucky - Krookodile

Stopwatch / Daniel - Phantump

Spitfire / Sophia - Blaziken

Charles - Type: Null

Bruno - Pangoro

Otho - Flamigo

Freddie Biggs - Corviknight

Mina - Pyroar (Female)

Chrissy - Alolan Persian

Aubrey - Purugly

Teddy Bear - Mabosstiff

Jerrie - Golurk

Different Actors:

Hot Chocolate Boy (Peter Spankoffski) (TGWDLM) - Polteageist

Pete Spankoffski (AC) - Aromatisse

Prof. Henry Hidgens (HQ) - Jigglypuff

Prof. Henry Hidgens (WB) - Spinda

Max Jägerman (TGWDLM) - Cinderace

Ethan Greene (YJ) - Goodra

(I’ve been working on this for a few weeks. I thought it would be fun to share. Hope you all enjoy it)

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

The InBESTigators and the Case of the Monstrous Mannequins

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/lGrWLcg by 5000BeesInATrenchcoat, PrairieDawn A trip to London goes horribly awry for the InBESTigators when Maudie's father is kidnapped by the Circus of the Other and the kids are left to depend on the dysfunctional Magnus Archives crew. Dr. Brian Miller struggles to keep his unfortunate patient and fellow captive, Jonathan Sims alive in hopes that they will be rescued.   Crossover. Mixed script and narrative format. Intended to be accessible fandom-blind. Words: 2488, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The InBESTigators (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, M/M Characters: Maudie Miller, Brian Miller, Ava Andrikides, Ezra Banks, Kyle Klimson, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Martin Blackwood, Basira Hussain, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Melanie King, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Melanie King Additional Tags: Set in Episodes 99-101 | Circus of the Other Kidnapped Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Canon-Typical The Stranger Content (The Magnus Archives), Canon-Typical The Beholding Content (The Magnus Archives), Canon Typical Cupcakes, Whump, Scarier than InBestigators source material, Autistic Maudie, ADHD Kyle (can it be Kyle otherwise?), Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker Has ADHD (The Magnus Archives) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/lGrWLcg

[perpetualfox]

A Librarian's Thoughts - A 141 Character Study [SFW]

Warnings: Negative Self-Talk Regarding Learning Disabilities, Bullying, Hospitalization, Bodily Injury, Toxic Masculinity, Alcoholism Spousal Abuse, Child Abuse, Suicidal Ideation, Homophobia

Wordcount: 6136

Being a Librarian got me thinking about the boys, their books and their relationships with them. Thought this would be a nice way to ease back into writing after so long away. Enjoy!

Kyle ' Gaz' Garrick

→Gaz was not a big reader as a boy. Though he loved curling up on the couch with his sisters—or his mother on her rare nights off—and letting them read to him, he wasn’t fond of doing it himself.

→See, Gaz excelled at everything he put his mind to—tumbling, football, maths, video games—but reading…reading was a difficult and often humiliating experience for him. It was the one thing that he wasn’t good at—that he often worried he couldn’t be good at.

→He could practice a back handspring over and over until he never fell over. He could drill the times tables until they were burned into his memory. He could loop a tough level of Sonic until he could clear it in his sleep. But no matter what he did, no matter how interested he was, when he tried to read, the words just would not stay still for him—ticking all over the pages and jumbling about in his brain until they made no sense.

→He would never forget the first time he was asked to read something aloud in class; how his cheeks had burned as his tongue turned traitor—stumbling over words that he was supposed to recognize; those first snickers that had bubbled up from the back of the room—laughter that rang in his ears as ‘Gold-Star Garrick’ failed at something for the first time for everyone to see.

→It didn’t take long after that for his parents and teachers to realize that he was struggling. ‘But’ seemed to be the word on everyone’s lips those days.

→“He’s a bright boy, but he’s lagging behind the other students.”

→“At the beginning of the year he was so confident, but now he’s like a completely different student.”

→“I understand he’s trying, but—"

→But, but, but.

→The word made Kyle sick to his stomach.

→The meetings began, tests followed—tests he felt certain he had failed. And when the results found their way back to him, in his mind, that suspicion was all but confirmed. Further meetings were held; with his parents, with his teachers, with the headmaster—as though he had done something wrong.

→Silently, he began to resent them—the adults in his life; how they spoke in hushed tones, discussing, without his input, what was to be done with him—that poor boy, the problem student, the ‘dyslexic.’ And the way they said that word…like it was something dirty; like a disease. It made his flesh crawl.

→At last, a tutor was selected for him—a woman whom he had never met, though everyone assured him she was very nice, and very good at her job—as though that mattered to him.

→A tutor.

→He was mortified by the very idea—he’d never needed help with anything. Ever. He was smart. Goddamn it, he was smart. Everyone on the playground knew only stupid kids needed tutors—Robbie Barker, repeating fifth grade for the third time; Stanley Towers who couldn’t add to save his soul; and Aiden Hart, mean as he was big, and twice as dumb as he was tall. Kyle did not count himself among their number. He was not stupid.

→He wasn’t.

→But it took a very long time for him to really begin to believe that deep down.

→The snickers and giggles that haunted him in the classroom and dogged him on the playground had slipped under his skin, poisoning his thinking, making him wonder if maybe…maybe they were right. Maybe he was stupid. Maybe he ought to just give up.

→But even as a child, Kyle was stubborn. There was nothing so motivating as being told that he couldn’t do something—nothing sweeter than looking them in the eye and proving them wrong. He was Kyle Garrick. He excelled at everything he put his mind to.

→It was slow going at first, his weekly sessions a blur of frustrated tears, and fists tightly balled beneath the table. But with practice and time came confidence. And with confidence came enthusiasm.

→Kyle had always been something of a film buff. Some of the fondest memories of his childhood were of movie nights with his father—just the two of them, stretched out on their bellies on the carpet in the den watching James Bond films on worn out VHS tapes; finding his first love at ten years old, watching through his fingers as Sissy Spacek took her revenge on prom night. Of course, when he discovered James Bond and Carrie had been characters in novels before they were put to screen, he thought he ought to give them a try.

→And he fell in love—with stories of secret agents and psychic girls, daring escapes and things that go bump in the night. Even when he struggled, he never fell out of love with those stories, because he knew that struggle was not synonymous with stupidity. And it never had been.

→As an adult, Gaz is a far more confident reader, though he still has bad days here and there. He struggles especially in environments that are busy or loud—reading in the caff, for example, is usually a no-go. And it’s always harder when he’s stressed or excited—sometimes it takes hours to calm down enough after a close call, or a particularly stimulating sparring match with Soap or the Captain for the words to stay still on a page. But that’s okay. He can wait—the story isn’t going anywhere.

The Sargent's Book Habits

→Over the years, Gaz has found audiobooks to be a great help for both his dyslexia and his lifestyle in general. On days when the words just aren’t cooperating, or when he doesn’t have the time to sit with his book and a cuppa, he can just pop in his headphones while he’s at the gym, or checking over his gear and fall into an interesting story all the same.

→Whether he’s borrowing or buying, he prefers to use an app for his audiobooks—that way he won’t lose his place when he has to pack up and go double-quick. He’s not overly picky about his apps—often hopping between them depending on which one has the title he’s looking for, but he really likes the ones which allow users to customize the reading speed and set timers just in case he falls asleep.

→When reading a physical book, Gaz prefers paperbacks—they’re smaller, squishy, easy to shove into the pockets of his pack at the last minute when packing for deployment or a day on the town. And boy, can they take a beating. Gaz isn’t overly gentle with his books; he cracks spines, he folds them in half when he really has to concentrate, and he dog-ears pages when he’s ready to put them away for the day. The only damage that really upsets him, is when the covers get ripped—he is very­ ­particular about his covers.

Gaz's Genres of Choice and Recommendations

→Spy Thrillers and Horror

→Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy – John le Carré / Casino Royale – Ian Flemming / The Bourne Identity – Robert Ludlum

→The Haunting of Hill House – Shirley Jackson / Carrie – Stephen King / Beloved – Toni Morrison

John 'Soap' Mactavish

→Like Gaz, Soap was not a big reader when he was young. If there was one thing John struggled with as a boy, it was sitting still—though shutting up definitely came in close second. Why stay indoors doing nothing when he could be out chasing frogs in the garden, or throwing rocks at tin cans in the alley with his mates, or picking a fight with someone twice his size?

→Reading just wasn’t a stimulating experience for him. Treasure Island? Dull. The Hardy Boys? Fure fandans the both of ‘em. Lord of the Flies? Well…that one he actually hadn’t minded so much, but he’d had to read it for English and had been glad to see the final page of it. He did enough reading under duress in school; he didn’t want to waste his free time on it as well.

→That was, until his older sister brought home the magazines.

→“Don’ tell Ma I brought you a present while you’re in the dog house, alrigh’?”

→Reaching into the giant bag she called a purse, she’d produced a thick stack of magazines bound with a length of coarse twine.

→“Marrie from work’s got this son—Harold’s his name…I think? Anyway, he’s off for Aberdeen next month for work and he’s looking to get rid of some things before the move. So, she was askin’ if I read any o’ that sci-fi rot. I told her ‘No,’ but I figured since yer all over that Star Fight—”

→“Star Wars!”

→“Whatever! I thought you might give ‘em a go. Y’know since Ma’s got you banned from watchin’ the box and seein’ yer mates, an’ all.”

→He’d scowled. “Don’ know why she’s still ragin’ about it.”

→“Jonny, you broke the lad’s nose!”

“Bawbag deserved it!”

→“I’m sure he did. Ma’s just…she worries about you, is all. We all do…Anyway, give those a try? I know you, Johnny. You’ll go mental before the week’s out if you don’t find something to do.”

→And she was right. By Wednesday, John was climbing the walls for something to do. He couldn’t draw—the boredom stifling his creativity until he couldn’t even muster a pleasing scribble. He’d beaten his personal record for dismantling and reassembling his clock-radio three times. Four minutes and twenty-three seconds. It was the first time he’d managed it in under five; a feat he’d been attempting for months, but there was no joy in it. He was too bored. He’d even cleaned his room, only to tear it apart again in a burst of frustrated, directionless energy.

→It was then, at last, in utter desperation, that he’d turned to the magazines.

→They were dusty old things, paper covers worn and curling at the edges. Omni in bold, neon colours, Interzone—moody and monotone, and Ares mechanical and strange, all the way from America. John wasn’t a reader, but a quick look couldn’t hurt. It’s not like he had anything better to do.

→And just like that, Johnny fell headfirst into short snippets from far-off planets; strange worlds and ever stranger machines. Starships and teleporters, ray-guns and robots that walked and talked like men. For the first time, he was genuinely interested in reading—more than that, he wanted more.

→Even after the grounding was lifted, he would come back to his favourite stories in fits and starts. He never read for long—could never stand to—but he never gave it up entirely either. When the mood struck him, he would save up his alloance to buy the latest issue of whatever he could get his hands on at the local shop—zines of short stories, film-inspired art collections, comics. It didn’t matter, so long as it would take him far, far away from his small, dull town.

→As he grew, he carried his love of Science Fiction with him, branching out into novels and series as they caught his fancy—often raiding local second-hand shops for one-off, pulpy paperbacks from the 60s and 70s. They weren’t always good but they were fun.

→It wasn’t until after he joined the military that his second literary love reared its head. Coming from a poorer family, he had never had a proper chance to travel—he was madly jealous of the well-off children at school and their post-holiday tans and trinkets. He’d promised himself that one day, it would him bragging about a week spent on the beach in Cuba, or climbing mountains in Spain.

→Deep down, it broke his heart that he wasn’t able to properly experience being somewhere new while he was deployed. He only ever saw the most broken, ugly parts of the places he visited—people and places ravaged by fighting, by forces beyond their control. He longed to experience the joy as well—to see the markets where folks bought groceries and flowers for their wives; the antique shops; the cultural centers. And so, he began collecting travel books—brochures, pamphlets, and maps.

→He'd buy something for every country he’d visited, keeping a record of all the places he’d like to return to as a tourist if he ever got the chance. Cafés and restaurants, nightclubs and museums, hiking trails and natural wonders, all spread before him in gorgeous, glossy photos, and tiny print descriptions. Someday, he’d tell himself, Someday, when I’m lucky, I’ll take my own pictures.

The Sargent's Book Habits

→Soap is not gentle with his books. It’s not uncommon to find them scattered about on the floor of his room, or flung across his desk, held open by any number of strange items—a paperweight; an ashtray; the corner of his laptop; a coffee cup, half-full of a strong, black brew long gone cold. His choice of bookmark knows no bounds—torn paper, sticky-notes, pencils, pens, live rounds, a smaller book—whatever he’s got on hand will do.

→He's never been fussy about the condition of his books either—there’s something wrong with nearly every one. Pages get bent and torn, stained with age and carelessness; covers get ripped; water bottles leak in backpacks. He doesn’t mind. More than one of his oldest favourites are held together with little more than scotch tape and a prayer.

→Where his travel books are concerned, Soap is a heavy annotator. He’ll highlight places of interest and crossing out spots he now knows are closed down. He jots notes in the margins— ‘good eats!’ or ‘CIGARS: BARTER NEXT TIME’ or ‘Good club. Bring Gaz’—and makes edits to directions when he finds better way around.

→While his travel books are a record of his life on the road—not subject to change unless he’s adding to the collection—the same cannot be said for his fiction. Soap isn’t a book borrower. He’s got nothing against libraries, but his vocation makes it tricky to return his books on time. Not to mention he had a nasty habit of forgetting he’s borrowed something until weeks later when he’s racked up a nice late fee. And he doesn’t often have the time to sit down and read, and when he does, he isn’t often in the mood. When it does strike him though, he’ll spend days doing nothing else, chewing through novels like they’re going out of style until the mood passes.

→No, it’s much easier for him to buy his books, but where is he supposed to keep them all? He only has so much shelf-space in the barracks. So, he keeps a small collection of his favourites tucked away beneath his bunk. The rest, he’s constantly rotating; donating or lending out in the hopes of freeing up some space.

Soap's Genres of Choice and Recommendations

→Sience Fiction and Travel Guides

→Dhalgren – Samuel R. Delany / Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep – Philip K. Dick / Dune – Frank Herbert

→Lonely Planet / Rick Steves / Rough Guides

John Price

→Price came to reading for pleasure much later in life, after an op gone very, very wrong. It should have ended his military career—might have ended his life right along with it if the shrapnel had embedded itself any deeper into his back. And inch closer to his spine and—

→He was lucky to be alive, or so the doctors had told him when he’d finally awoken, two weeks after he’d been rushed into the emergency ward on base. He didn’t feel lucky. With a tube stuffed down his throat, and wires and pins buried in his extremities, he felt fragile—weak. It wasn’t a feeling to which he was accustomed, but it was one he was going to become intimately familiar with in the coming weeks.

→The healing process was slow—the plodding pace almost more agonizing than the injuries themselves. And he did himself no favours in the meantime—he was a miserable patient; agitated, angry. He watched with hard eyes as the other men on the ward came and went. They rarely stayed for more than a few hours, perhaps a few days in the worst cases. Most of the men kept to themselves, but those who did try to speak to him got very little in return, and eventually gave up trying altogether. And so, John was alone, aimless, and worst of all, bored.

→He slept when he was able—when the drugs kissed the pain away for a few blessed hours. But it was never enough.

→After the first week, someone—a member of the staff perhaps? He hadn’t seen the culprit—in some small attempt at kindness, had left him a book. But he hadn’t the strength to hold it up, not with his hands broken and trembling as they were. It sat, neglected on his bedside table until, one day, something strange pulled him up form sleep.

→The dream had been a hazy thing—the morphine muddling his mind even in sleep. He came back to himself slowly, as though he were wading through syrup. It was a voice that had woken him, he realized, soft, but clear, and very nearby—in the room with him.

→It was a pleasant voice, the gentle cadence of the words washing gently over him, “He was standing at someone else’s desk, talking on the telephone and she had a chance to look at him for the first time in a year. What she saw disturbed her.”

→There was something about the rhythm of that voice, that made John certain that it was reciting something—reading perhaps. Then in a rush of clarity, he realized it was reading…to him.

→Dimly, he thought he ought to send this reader away as he did with everyone else. He didn’t need looking after. He was an adult, a soldier no less…and yet, there was something soothing about that voice. Perhaps it was the drugs dulling the edge of his irritation—he wasn’t in any great deal of pain, the residual hum of morphine in his blood saw to that. Sooner or later, he expected it would pull him back under, into the hazy realm of his dreams, but it didn’t. The voice, steady and calm kept him awake.

→At first, he was merely present, passively listening but in time, he became intrigued, then genuinely interested.

→“…carry on in the prescribed manner.’ Crawford smiled at her, but his eyes were dead.”

→Here the reader paused, then came a sharp intake of breath and the sudden scrape of chair legs against the floor.

→“You’re awake! Bloody hell! I-I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you, Sir—Lieutenant—Sir!”

→At first, John was confused by this sudden and, in his opinion, ridiculous display of nerves. The voice belonged to a young man dressed in blue scrubs. He was small, a thin young thing, barely older than twenty by the look of him. But he supposed it made some sense; he was sure to have something of a reputation amongst the staff by now. Even if he had never seen this nurse before, he was sure the others had warned him—‘Got Price on your round? Have fun with that one, Luv.”

→‘I-I-I just saw the book there, and I thought…well I-I don’t know what I thought really!” He was babbling now, “They always say you should read to coma patients…supposed to be good for ‘em or something. A-And you were in a coma…though you’re not now, obviously…I just—”

→John squeezed his eyes shut, “Jesus, Lad. You’ll do my head in!”

→When he opened his eyes, the young man was still standing there, wringing his hands and looking as though he were torn between bolting for the door and being sick all over his shoes.

→John sighed, “It’s alright, son. ‘m not gonna bite your head off. In fact. I was…enjoying listening to you read.” John’s cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. Something like shame squirmed to life in his gut, thought he didn’t understand why. “Good voice for it.”

→“T-Thank you, Sir.”

→“What is it?”

→“Silence of the Lambs. Sir? B-By Thomas Harris.”

→“I miss much?”

→“When did you, uh, tune in?”

→“The bit about the man at the desk.”

→“Only a page or two.” The nurse fell silent for a moment, glancing down at his watch. “I’m on my lunch for another fifteen minutes, I could go back…i-if you’d like, that is, Sir.”

→John laid his head back against the scratchy pillow on his cot and closed his eyes, “Actually, I would.”

→Every day after that, whenever the nurse—John came to know him as Aaron—was on his lunch, he could come with an apple or a sandwich in one hand, and Thomas Harris in the other. Even as John regained his strength and was allowed--even encouraged—to roam the halls, IV pole in tow, he never missed their appointment. Most days, they only managed a handful of pages, but for a time, it kept the boredom at bay.

→On the night before John was to be discharged, Aaron stopped in for one final reading. Another 15 pages brought them to the ending of chapter 45.

→“It’s going to feel strange tomorrow,” Aaron said, closing the book, “Not doing this.”

→“Mmm. ‘s a shame we didn’t get to the end.”

→Aaron stood and stuck out his hand. John took it firmly and shook it. At last, there was no pain.

→“Don’t take this personally, Sir, but I hope we don’t see you again for a good. Long while.”

→John cracked a smile at that, “I’ll do my best, son.”

→And then Aaron was gone, hurrying out of the room to see to his rounds.

→When Price awoke in the morning, there was something sitting on his dresser that had not been there when he had fallen asleep—a little package wrapped in brown paper bearing a white card-tag on top. It read: Enjoy the ending. -A.

→Pealing back the paper, John found a copy of The Silence of the Lambs.

→His own copy.

→His jaw worked for a moment, eyes blinking rapidly as a warm, wet feeling bubbled up behind them.

→Aaron probably didn’t understand the gravity of the gift he’d given. John may have been leaving the hospital, something he was glad for, but deep down, he was dreading what came next. His superiors had made it clear to him that was not going back to active duty until he was well and truly recovered. He still needed to survive another three months of medial leave—three more months of scans and x-rays; of physical therapy and psych evals; of the cold, empty apartment that awaited him off base.

→It was going to be a very long time, and he was going to need something to keep him occupied if he was going to survive it, and Aaron had placed it right into his hands.

The Captain's Book Habits

→Price, above all other things is an annotator, specifically an underliner. He would never desecrate his books with something so permanent as a pen—or God forbid—a highlighter, preferring to leave his mark in graphite. The lines he makes may be heavy and dark, but they are removable, impermanent, manageable.

→He underlines everything; lines he likes, twists that caught him off guard, facts he wants to check later. The more he enjoys a novel, the more he marks it up; the pages looking more like graded English essays than anything else when he’s through with them.

→He is not opposed to dog-earing his pages, though he is far more likely to simply rely on his own memory for the page number. He rarely has more than one novel on the go at a time, and he’s always had a good head for numbers, so it’s never been an issue for him. If by some unlucky chance, he does forget the number, he’ll simply flip along until he finds something he remembers and he’ll go along from there. He doesn’t mind a little re-reading now and again.

→Price’s favourite reading spot is in his bed. He’s a busy man and he doesn’t have a lot of downtime. Which is, in some ways, for the best. Price struggles with free time—he needs something to do, somewhere to be. He needs to be useful, and in the rare moments in which he has nothing to do, doesn’t know what to do with himself. And things get ugly quickly. He gets dirty so the world stays clean—it’s a pretty thought until the room gets dark and quiet and he has to live with the reality of what that means.

→The nights are always the hardest. That space between laying his head down on the pillow and falling asleep frightens him more than any man with a gun. Reading, as it turns out is an excellent distraction—a way to keep his mind busy until he physically cannot keep his eyes open any longer. It’s not uncommon for him to wake up in the morning with his lamp still blazing and his book still resting on his chest, or crushed between his ribs and the mattress. Once or twice, he’s even fallen asleep like that in the chair in his office, his book resting gently on his face. Luckily, it was Laswell who caught him. The only person she ever told was her wife.

→After years of practice, reading became a sort of mental health lifeline for Price. When his mind is unquiet, he forces himself to read—to just take in the words on the page; to use them to pushout every other rampaging though; to deal with problems that aren’t real for a moment until he can put enough space between himself and the problems that are. It isn’t uncommon, especially after meetings with pompous colonels and stuck-up generals, or stupid new recruits, to find him fuming in his office with his nose shoved into a book as he struggles to get himself back under control. God help anyone who disturbs him when he gets like that.

Price's Genres of Choice and Recommendation

→Thrillers and Historical Fiction

→Angels and Demons – Dan Brown / The Manchurian Candidate – Richard Condon / Silence of the Lambs – Thomas Harris

→Dissolution – C. J. Sansom / Wolf Hall – Hilary Mantel / The Name of the Rose – Umberto Eco

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

→Ghost was the only member of the 141 who read widely as a child. He devoured books when he was a boy—fiction and non-fiction alike; fantasy, mystery, how-to, biography, Simon didn’t care. If it was in print, he would read it—hell, he’d read the ingredient list off the back of a cereal box if he didn’t have anything else. He loved to read, and that made him something of an outsider in his house.

→Before things got bad, really bad, his mother had been a casual reader, content now and again to tuck herself into the corner of the sofa and unravel a cozy, small town mystery, or tooth-rotting romance. His father, on the other hand, had never seen the point and wasn’t shy about saying so. And he only became more vocal about his opinions as his drinking habit worsened, then fell completely out of hand.

→In the years before the thieving and the drug-deals began in earnest, when he’d needed money for the liquor store, or to pay off the tab he owed at the pub, it was his mother’s things that vanished first; her fine clothes, her jewellery, her books.

→After that, she seemed to lose interest in reading altogether, just as she lost interest in most of her hobbies. She stopped going out, stopped seeing her friends, and little by little, she retreated into herself—she used to sing as she washed the dishes after breakfast, and she used to smile so brightly, but not anymore. Simon was too young at the time to really understand why, but it made him sad.

→Despite it all, she tried her best him—always asking about what he was reading, helping him sound out and define the words he didn’t understand:

→“Ecks-ahm-ih-nay-tee-on?”

→“Ex-ahm-ih-nay-shun, love.”

→He rolled the new word around on his tongue, “Examination. Means…?”

→“To look something over very carefully. Like when you go to the clinic.”

→But his father hated how she encouraged him.

→“A waste of my fuckin’ money is all that is! Dumb cunt don’t even understand it, I reckon. Don’t fuckin’ encourage him, no more, you hear me? I won’t have him hangin’ around here all day with his nose in a book like some sorta priss—like a fuckin’ girl!”

→Whenever his father caught him reading, whether it was for pleasure or for school, there was a fight. When he was lucky, the man only shouted, being either too lazy, or too drunk to cross the room and do something about it. But often—too often—it was his fists or the toe of his boot Simon would have to contend with.

→In those days, Simon hadn’t known how to fight back. He knew his father—coward that he was—would never have taken a swing at him now; he hadn’t been the type to pick a fight with someone in his own weight class—but Simon had been a small thing then—waifish and thin. And he’d taken more than one black eye from the edge of a hardcover. That was the only use his father had found in books—as a blunt object with which he could inflict pain.

→What lesson did Simon learn from this? What moral did his father instill within his son? That it was best not to bring his reading home with him. So, he tucked himself into echoing stairwells during lunchtime at school. He commandeered the table in the far corner of the library on rainy afternoons until the librarians shooed him out at closing time. He stretched out on the prickly grass beneath the oak tree in the park, shaded from the summer sun as he chewed his way through Dickens and Wilde.

→And on the nights when he could not sleep; when his jaw still ached from the kiss of a fist; when his stomach knotted up at the thought of the lies he’d feed his teachers about the bruises, and how willingly they’d swallow them; when he thought he’d rather die than live another day like this, he’d pull a book from the secret stash beneath his bed. There beneath the covers, he’d find comfort by torchlight in neat lines of text until he could not keep his eyes open a moment longer, and he drifted off, the book still clutched to his chest like a stuffed animal.

→It wasn’t until he was in high school, struggling his way though Shakespeare for the first time, that he discovered an affinity for poetry. It was the meeting of Romeo and Juliet that did it—that perfect first sonnet spoken between new lovers that grabbed him by the collar and would not let him go. There was something so intricate about the words, the way they fitted together like pieces in some grand puzzle he couldn’t quite see the whole of. Reading them over, hearing them spoken, for the first time the language clicked. And all at once, he felt he understood what a man more than three hundred years dead was trying to show him—and it was beautiful.

→His initial flirtation with poetry was, a nervy, skittish thing, mostly hidden in the dusty stacks of the library. Every time he reached for a collection of Dickenson, or Frost, or caught himself misty-eyed over Dunbar, or H.D., his father’s voice thundered in his ears;

→“You prissy fuckin’ faggot.”

→And that wounded part of him had never healed. Even now, as a man grown, it ached. But his father had already taken so much from him—things he was sure he would never have back again. He would not let him have this too.

→Simon had always been a lonely boy, an only child; a ghost, eating alone at the back of the lunchroom. No one wanted to play with the boy who came to school with patches on his knees and bruises on the insides of his wrists. It was not in his peers, but in his books that he found what he needed—friends in Oliver Twist and Lucy Pevensie; a kind older brother in Pip Pirrip; a loving father in Robert March.

→When the adults in his life failed him time and time again, when the other children abandoned him to his solitude, the books never did—they were always there with open, welcoming arms; with far-off worlds and great adventures, with a thousand ways to express the hurt and a thousand promises that there was a life after.

→And nobody was going to take that away from him.

The Lieutenant's Book Habits

→Ghost is very careful with his books. He does not keep a large collection, but what he does keep is precious to him. He will not abide by cracked spines and bent up covers, and as such he prefers hardcovers to paperbacks. They’re sturdier, longer lasting, and he likes the weight of them in his hand. It’s calming, that weight—grounding.

→The few softcovers he does own are mostly poetry collections—Norton Anthologies and the like; Romantic, Modernist, Imagist, whatever he can get his hands on. He often annotates the poems he likes, though he never writes directly on the pages themselves. He jots down notes on the thin pages of a small, spiral bound notebook, and after carefully noting the date in the corner, he will rip the page from the notebook and slide it into place just before the poem. It’s a habit he learned in school, beaten into him from years of renting textbooks his family could not afford to purchase.

→Ghost is not apposed to lending out his books perse, he’s just very careful about who he lends them to. Now Gaz, he wouldn’t need to think twice about, he’s a tidy man, and aside from the occasional dog-earing of a page, he isn’t a monster. Likewise, if Price ever showed a modicum of interest in anything he read, he would hand the book over post-haste. Soap on the other hand was another story. Though he is no pearl-clutcher, Ghost cannot help but feel mildly appalled by Soap’s habits—particularly the time he witnessed the man use an open and sweating bottle of beer as a paperweight to hold open a photobook of tourist sights in Peru.The man was a fucking menace, and until he learned to treat his books properly, Ghost’s collection was off-limits to him.

→The first thing most people notice about Ghost is his size. The next is how incredibly still he can be. The rest of the 141 is a whirlwind by comparison: Soap is a blur, always in motion, always fidgeting with something—bouncing his leg or incessantly clicking a pen; Gaz is known to pace. Whether he’s excited, or worried, or thinking, or furious, he can be found wondering backand forth, back and forth, wearing a hole in the floor; even Price has a restless air about him, always shifting his weight, rocking back on his heels, readjusting the considerable weight of his kit. But Ghost is still—almost eerily so.

→Gaz asked him about it once, in his gentle way, over a pint in some dingy pub—about the secret, the trick to keeping so still. Ghost had just shrugged it off.

→“No secrets. Just practice.”

→It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. It was part training—years and years of practice; in the oppressive atmosphere in his own home; under the ruthless drilling of the SAS; on the field when things went very, very wrong. But there was a secret too—something Simon kept all to himself: it’s also part poetry.

→See, Ghost has an excellent memory—lists of people and places, phone numbers, intel, it’s all the same. Give him time to sit with something and he’ll remember it. Over the years, Ghost has memorized veritable library of poems, and when he needs, he repeats them to himself, over and over, a worry-stone kept in his memory rather than his pocket; the words grounding him in the moment, keeping him still and sane amidst the storm.

Ghost's Genres of Choice and Recommendations

→Classics and Poetry

→Inferno – Dante Alighieri / A Tale of Two Cities – Charles Dickens / Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus – Mary Shelley

→On the Pulse of Morning – Maya Angelou / all in green went my love riding – e. e. cummings / The Hollow Men – T. S. Eliot

[emitheesimmer]

Thread: BHMCAS Challenge

Days 15-27

Day 15 // Black Sitcom - Living Single: (l to r) Kyle Barker, Maxine Shaw "Attorney at Law," Khadijah James, Regine Hunter, Synclaire James-Jones, and Overton Wakefield Jones

Day 16 // 90s: Shawn Stockman (forgot to write down his info smh 🤦🏽‍♀️ but he was inspired by Shawn Stockman of Boyz II Men)

Day 17 // Coquette: Renni Ridley / Perfectly Pristine / Good, Neat, Proper

Day 18 // Royalty: Grand Duchess Miliani / Successful Lineage / Proper, Loyal, Family-oriented

Day 19 // City Girl: Kelsie Ruffin / City Native / Materialistic, Non-committal, Out-going

Day 20 // Old Hollywood: Dottie Bryant / Master Actress / Overachiever, Romantic, Ambitious

Day 21 // Mystical: Amina Giles (Spellcaster) / Spellcraft & Sorcery / Creative, Hot-headed, Perfectionist

Day 22 // Black Icon: Sade Adu / Musical Genius / Creative, Music Lover, Art Lover

Day 23 // Church Fashion: Deborah Riggs / Neighborhood Confidante / Generous, Proper, Cheerful

Day 24 // Model/Runway: Sloane Samuels / World Celebrity / Self-assured, Ambitious, Insider

Day 25 // Carnival: Sonya StJohn / The Curator / Dance Machine, Child of the Islands, Party Animal

Day 26 // Black Occult: Nathaneal Owens (Vampire) / Master Chef / Foodie, Hot-headed, Non-committal

Day 27 // Old Money/Vintage: Harper Humphries and Mochi / Fabulously Wealthy / Old Money, Snob, Kleptomaniac

[den1als]

⌗   ⠀⠀   𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙶 [ ... ]   ⠀⠀   𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐑 , a thirty year old , has survived another day in red creek where they lived for their entire lives three months . the golden child is known for being ambitious and resentful and is often associated with a small family portrait resting peacefully on your bedside table despite cracks hiding everyone else's face but your own , red lipstick stains marking their print on everything you want and desire , and the gutting realization that you'll never be satisfied . in a small town where they work as a pharmacist at red creek pharmacy word travels fast . it's hard to keep a secret , and it looks like the boogeyman knows that redacted .

⠀

𝐈.   ⠀   𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂   ⠀   [   ...   ]

full name: ruby grier . nicknames: rue ( inspired by the dead hunger games child ) , bibi ( previously by their family; retired ) . age: thirty; april 9, 1994 . zodiac sign: aries . gender + pronouns: genderfluid, they / she . orientation: biromantic, bisexual . place of birth: red creek, michigan . fled the state after her relationship ended but moved back only recently this year . occupation: pharmacist @ red creek pharmacy . height: five foot, five inches ( 5'5 ) .

mother: abigail grier ( deceased ) . father: lewis grier ( no contact; presumed deceased ) . sister: diamond grier ( deceased ) pet(s): n/a .

inspired by: rachel amber ( life is strange ), carmen "carmy" berzatto ( the bear ), amanda rollins ( law & order: svu ), tashi duncan ( challengers ), kyle barker ( livin' single ) . color symbolism: red . lucky number: two . prized possession: the lock-and-key diary that belonged to both diamond and ruby where they shared their dreams and secrets .

associated with: manicured, french-tipped nails; a family photo turned around and facing the wall - too guilty to look the ghosts in the eyes, too alone to take it down; white wine; black sunglasses used as an accessory but also as a shield to block out lingering stares; rolling your eyes until seeing white; judgmental stares; the serene feeling of reading a book in the park on a warm, sunny day; perfect fake smiles; sighs of agony.

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𝐈𝐈.   ⠀   𝙳𝙾𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙴𝚁   ⠀   [   ...   ]

trigger warnings : death ( of a child, unspecified illness ) , infidelity .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ red creek was everything started , fell apart , and seemingly came back together again . the griers found their way into town back in 1992 shortly after the birth of their first daughter diamond . while the idea of having a large family was always there , the couple didn't expect to have their second child only two years later . they welcomed in ruby , continuing the gem theme as their father was a gemologist obsessed with tying all the things he loved together .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ diamond was the living counterpart of her precious jewel: her bright , captivating personality as a kid kept her surrounded by friends and interests always changing . she was ruby's inspiration , her small town hero even though they were close in age . whenever their parents couldn't do something , the older girl came to the rescue . they were close -- inseparable !! anyone who was around that time can attest that the sisters were jointed at the hip and the wrist due to their flashy , matching friendship bracelets ruby made .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ 1999 was proving to be a stressful year . with the disappearances and murder all happening at once , the town was beginning to be on edge . lewis , being the conspirator and optimist that he was , accidentally landed himself on the shitlist with the public due to his theory of there being two perpetrators going around . not only did he spook out more people , but the sheriff's department always hassled him for his ridiculous ideas . because of this , the couple implemented a strict 7 o'clock curfew for the girls ⸻ except on christmas eve .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ the two children normally walked side by side every day , but today was different . instead , little ruby grier stood behind yellow crime scene tape besides her parents , distraught as she saw diamond's lifeless body being carried away in a small black bag . the police said it was an accidental fall down the creek , her head hitting something hard on her way down . their ... ruby's parents were at a loss for words . why was she there ? what did she see ? of course , all eyes turned to ruby : the child who never left her sister's side , the little girl who couldn't stop staring at the spot that diamond once laid .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ their parents caused a huge storm with the sheriff's department when they wanted to question ruby . she just lost her sister ⸻ their child ! and on the most joyful day of the year , might they add ! this rallied a few more residences to reprimand the law enforcement until they reluctantly gave up . what they didn't know was that ruby had written the police a letter , detailing as much as she could about their day before she left her sister's side .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ the now trio stuck around longer than expected but it was mainly due to abigail's refusal to leave . she couldn't bare the idea of leaving diamond alone in red creek , her guilt will eat her alive . lewis watched as the light left his wife's eyes day by day , but he pretended that things will work out fine . meanwhile , ruby had no choice but to move on with life ... well , not her life . she wanted to do everything her sister never got to do ; participate in a play , win first place at the spelling bee , kiss the prettiest boy in the whole wide world ( okay in her defense she also had that written down in her dream journal ) and own a giraffe . the last goal was proving to be too difficult ( no zoos will sell to minors ) but everything else worked out pretty fine !

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ by ruby's 21st birthday , her parents were starting to drift apart . her mother seemingly lost interest in the rest of her family at this point . she frequently stayed out late at the bar , coming home at the late hours in the morning when no one was home . lewis never made a fuss about it in front of ruby , but he didn't have to . she's heard the phone calls , witnessed the hugs and affection that felt oddly charged by something other than emotions , but she kept her mouth shut . the idea of losing her father because of her mother's grief fueled her with a sense of irritation and anger . but it was far too late . everything came crashing down on the anniversary of diamond's death . some words were said , some grievances were aired , and it came out that an affair was had -- but not at the doing of her mother . this resulted in a long , brutal divorce that left no one out on top .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ ruby tries her best to move forward but life isn't as easy as it seemed . she couldn't take it anymore so she left everything that was troubling her behind : her mother , her sister , and her ex . it was only this year that she returned as her mother had grew weak ( rumors say it's from a broken heart ) and that it was up to ruby to keep her going on a machine or not . she chose to pull the plug , allowing her mother to be with diamond . it's what she always wanted .

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𝐈𝐈𝐈.   ⠀   𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙿𝙻𝙾𝚃𝚂   ⠀   [   ...   ]

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ more people mad that they left ( 0 / ? ) : or alternatively, the few people who are upset that they were able to leave while they can't; those mad that ruby didn't ask them to come along who also wanted to get away.

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ the people who weren't mad they left ( 0 / ? ) : heavily encouraged ruby to pack up and leave . can be a random stranger they encountered once or a close friend she confided in . whatever the case may be, they didn't oppose their decision to get out of dodge .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ childhood friends ( 1 / 2-3 ) : maybe they were close to diamond, too but befriends ruby after her passing . can be ruby's genuine friend .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ comfortable silence ( 0 / 1 ) : i truly think ruby just needs someone to make her feel sane . ground them just a bit but aren't entirely nosey . i can see this being someone new in town simply because they cannot bring themselves to stop having grudges over people they once knew .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ flirtatious banter / hookups ( 0 / ? ) : listen ... listen . ruby is hooking up with ricardo so clearly they're still grieving and handling their loss pretty harshly . on top of that their ex is still alive still living in town so that's not exactly a good thing either . they're not looking for a relationship, just a distraction .

⠀ ⏤ ⠀ or maybe ... they almost did move on ( 0 / 1 ) : OKAY BUT HEAR ME OUT !! ruby tries dating again but can't . that's all i have . thank you for coming to my ted talk .