#but seeing as how we get nothing the rest of the time those just do not fucking land. and it extends all the way to his fumbed ass ending

[thetadispatcher]

Vincent looked up at him and gave him a small smile, showing he appreciated the gesture. He knew it probably didn't mean that much to other people, but to him it meant a lot.

He liked knowing he had other people outside of those who called him family that cared, and didn't mind showing it to help him understand situations or just feel better about them.

The AP700 rested his head back against the other android, deciding he'd completely ignore Dan and Rook to focus on what Bishop was doing.

Nines gave him a calculating look, he had experience with people who would use anything to try to upset him. His human partner did it almost constantly to him, so he could easily recognize when someone else was attempting to do the same.

The only thing he needed any time to figure out was why, it seemed like everyone always had a different reason for why they were trying to get a reaction out of him. Gavin's was just because he liked to be an annoyance, and the fact he couldn't get Nines to react upset him.

Not that he cared, as he enjoyed watching the detective flush with anger whenever Nines didn't give him the reaction he was looking for. Not that he would show the human that he found his small shows of anger endearing.

"I am not that rebellious, no more then Connor is." He wouldn't call Sixty rebellious as the RK800 seemed to be down to do just about anything, he was more of an accidental troublemaker.

"And it's not like the military could do anything about it now if they did find out." Androids had rights now, and they couldn't do anything about the military androids Cyberlife failed to destroy as they were considered people. Also it would likely cause a lot of issues that wouldn't be worth the time and money to deal with.

John didn't see them doing anything about it ever, the androids didn't know anything he would consider damaging if it were to get out. And he never saw service, so he never learned any truly damaging information that the military would be concerned about.

"He might be, considering the fact he was already deviant when he was deactivated as we didn't have to convert him." Dan wasn't sure what to make of that possibility, but Kelvin was the oldest recorded deviant they knew of so far.

He just wasn't about to share that information as he felt the last thing androids needed was to know their god might be real, some might be a little disappointed to find out what he was like.

"I never said he was dumb, he can do some very complicated tasks quite well. Sure he does have his moments where he does something that one would call dumb, but he can hardly be held accountable for it considering his condition." Kelvin was surprisingly good at things one wouldn't expect someone in his condition to excel at, even if he did have times where he acted more childlike then a normal android.

"We are trying to teach him sign language and how to write, but it's a slow process as he sometimes will need to be retaught things he already learned. But if you think she can talk to him, you're welcome to try. It would be nice to better understand Kelvin just in case there is some mental trauma we don't know about. I would hate to learn about it by accidentally upsetting him and still not fully understand the reaction, it would make helping him calm down hard." Even a little more information would be useful, as it might give them a hint on where to look for more.

"Yes, that is correct. He was a gift to the studio that they really didn't care enough to keep, they deposed of him the first chance they got." Brent didn't seem bothered by the studio's blatant disregard for him, in fact he seemed to have expected the treatment and felt nothing about. The JB300 was one of the androids that showed no mental affects from being thrown away, and he even seemed thankful it happened.

"We have a few other ones, ones that you would recognize as a lot of people from your generation are the ones who were ordering these custom units." He could see why someone would want an android of their favorite characters, but he could also understand why they'd be thrown away. They only lasted as long as their novelty or until they needed an expensive repair thanks to being custom.

"Only one other one is present on the property currently, if you'd like I can introduce you to him." Dan knew he would be less bothered by being recognized as a fictional character, Brent just seemed to hate it as he wanted to be his own person and not Data. But the JB300 was okay with it if the person respected the fact he had picked a new name and didn't constantly remind him of his appearance.

The android looked over once again, waiting for Rook to snap back at him. When it was clear she intended to leave him alone he glanced back to Vincent. If his communication skills were poor, he felt he was about to set a new low, but still reached to give his friend a gentle pat in reassurance. Everything was fine, they were just having a feisty mutant over for a bit.

Bishop smirked. That gave him something to work with.

"Yes, that is expected behavior from the rebellious youngest brother."

Even the most collected deviant had to deal with their own emotions and while he couldn't say for sure how prominent Nines' ego was, Bishop would still poke at him until he got a reaction.

It was entertaining enough to him, in any case. He had no reason to stop.

"That's typical of private contractors." he mused, "So you were saved entirely by greed alone. I suppose there is some irony in that."

Much like the fact that androids were simply being tossed in a landfill instead of being recycled. It seemed Cyberlife's entire existence was simply tainted by incompetence.

Rook watched the way Dan's skin regenerated, glad to see no damage was done. The last thing she wanted was to be accused of having hurt the most important guy in the house, especially when she had done nothing but ask questions.

"Who knows, maybe he's patient zero." She shrugged, "Maybe he's like Sixty and likes the way he is. It's never good to assume somebody who's very energetic and content with what they have is dumb. I have a friend who is just as bouncy as Kelvin and she's smarter and wiser than most people."

It didn't look like Kelvin was causing real trouble on purpose. He just moved quietly and that made it easy to forget he was even there doing his own thing.

"So that's why you've got Commander Data running about. Maybe you could ask Willow to talk to Kelvin. He can't talk to you, but she can probably translate for him."

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie IV

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8k words

From me: slow burning!!!

Warnings: ANGST violence. CW: Signs of abuse.

Summary: Harry is very hot. Very sweet. VERY protective.

“Hey everyone,” she greeted brightly. “How’s everyone today?” She asked while setting down a tray of eight glasses and two pitchers of water on the table.

“Wonderful, baby, so excited to have you.”

She nearly knocked the glasses over (fortunately, since they were water glasses, they were only plastic). She made eye contact with him and felt her heart completely stop for a few beats. Kael smiled wickedly in return.

Fuck.

She kept her smile in place. “What can I get you to drink?” She asked. After eight years, she already knew what he wanted so she focused on his teammates.

“We were hoping to see The Chargers tonight,” Kael told her. “Do they come here often?”

She didn’t respond. “We have a few specials tonight, so if you have any questions, please let me know,” then she sauntered away to place the drink order.

“Already know what I want, baby?” He called. “That’s so sweet!”

She ignored him. Taking deep breaths she headed to the kitchen. Louis wasn’t in yet. Harry didn’t know she was working. Which meant the rest of the team thought she wasn’t working too. Marc and Michael probably had their suspicions that she was with Harry. So, no one knew she was there. Not really.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was probably just going to be an hour. He had his team with him. It wasn’t like they could have a private conversation in the middle of a restaurant. Yeah, he would probably tease and torture her for the better part of that hour, but she could be civil. She could pretend. She had for ages. He didn’t know she was working for The Chargers—she was sure he had an idea that she might be. But the afternoon set it in stone.

He was such a dick. It was the first time she had seen him face to face since she moved out. Everything about him made her skin crawl and she hated it. Every touch and kiss between them seemed tainted now. All those good memories, dates, hockey games, everything felt ruined. Each interaction was colored now with the hindsight that he didn’t love her. Not the way she did. Not the way she expected him to love her for ever and ever. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve that. She knew she didn’t deserve that.

So why did he make her feel undeserving of it ever again?

*

Kael and his teammates came and went fortunately. Just as she predicted. Only a little over an hour. She refrained from speaking directly to Kael and focused on the group as a whole.

When Kael left, she was well past the feeling of relief. There should have been a stronger word for how liberated she felt. She used the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and took a moment to process everything. It was just like Kael to come in and make her feel like shit without even trying. Louis was supposed to be in, so at least she had that going for her.

“Hey love,” Louis called. “Everything good?” She probably looked a little shaken, so she wasn’t surprised he asked. She felt shaken.

“Good,” she smiled assuredly. She flitted around the room, ducked behind the bar, and went about her day. It was a busy night, and she wasn’t going to let Kael sour her shift that he had next to nothing to do with. So she didn’t. The next hour ticked on quickly and she was feeling more herself as the time stretched between Kael’s departure and the present.

“Hi baby,” he cooed.

Her arms felt numb almost instantly, she was lucky she didn’t drop her tray. Her fight or flight swept her and just made her freeze. She turned as she had earlier in the day and looked at him. “Hi,” she said curtly. He was alone, which made her nervous.

“I figured you must get a break soon. I’d like to talk.”

“Not for a while. And it’s busy,” at least that wasn’t a lie. “So I might not take one tonight.”

Louis was hurrying about from kitchen to back room, to front of house. It was busy as it could be, but she wanted to keep an eye on him. If Kael got her alone, she wasn’t sure she would be able to control her emotions as well as if she had someone that knew she was not in a situation she wanted to be in just by looking at her. Louis wasn’t Harry, but he would know all the same that she was uncomfortable.

Kael smiled brightly.

Well, at least someone that cared ifshe was uncomfortable.

“I’ll wait,” he offered.

“Great,” she deadpanned.

She went to the back room and wished that there was a group of Chargers there. If she called any of them, she knew they would break curfew and be there for her in a heartbeat. The thought of Kael anywhere near her would make Callie incensed for ruining her day. Niall would be protective in his own way and focused on her. Asher and Lang would get her away from The Locker Room and make sure Kael never set foot there again.

She could hardly imagine what Harry would do to him.

But she lied. She told Harry that she wasn’t working. The routines the boys had had in place prior to her arrival with the team had been disrupted more than she ever anticipated. It was nice they cared but it wasn’t fair to them to upheave their lives for her. She was just the photographer for the team. Their coach’s niece. They didn’t ask to have someone they needed to babysit.

She was an independent, self-sufficient person.

“You okay, love?” Louis asked.

She nodded and flitted around the room taking order and tried not to think about the feeling of Kael’s stare on the back of her head.

*

It was perhaps another hour, and Kael was true to his word in staying put. Fortunately, The Locker Room remained steadily busy. She didn’t have to lie about not taking her break. She foisted him off on another waiter who grew a little tired of him asking for her each time he went over. “Baby,” he snatched her hand as she went by.

She pulled away. “Kael, I’m busy,” she marched away before he could reach for her again.

Without warning a multitude of memories where he snagged her hand over the years filtered through her mind. His grip tight on her arm or hand. Never in a way that any outsider would notice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered to herself. She was going to call Harry. His wrath would be well worth it. At least Kael was scared of Harry and the team. Especially if he was outnumbered. She was shaking a little as she headed for the kitchen hoping to catch Louis at least.

“Hey,” Kael said grabbing her again as she passed too close to his table. This time he caught a real hold of her arm and pinned it to the table. To any other onlooker it would look like he was just keeping her in place holding onto her hand in almost a romantic kind of way. No one would see how his fingers dug into her skin, how she was feeling the ache of the hard wood against her knuckles and wrist bone like she just lost an arm-wrestling contest. “I just want to talk.”

She wanted nothing less. “Hey, Louis!” She called quickly and loudly enough so that he would be able to hear her over the din of the whole place regardless of where he had gone off too.

Within seconds Louis was there from the back room.

Harry was right beside him. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her arm on the table. Her mouth popped open in shock. She had no clue he was there. Most obviously, she didn’t want him to see this. “Oh fuck,” she whispered and tried to pry her hand away from Kael’s. She squirmed slightly as he refused to release her. He cupped his other hand gently on top of her arm trying to get her to stop.

Harry wasn’t supposed to be here. He was only supposed to come to her rescue because she couldn’t figure out what else she was to do. She was going to hide in the kitchen and wait.

Harry wasn’t supposed to be around Kael.

“Styles,” Kael practically sang. He didn’t release her arm. “Didn’t know you were here. Tough loss today. I hope it’s the same tomorrow, to be honest.”

He didn’t take the bait. His nostrils flared. “Let go of her hand Crowe,” Harry snarled stepping closer to him.

“We were just talking, right baby?” Kael smiled and took his free hand to cup the side of her face. She turned her face away and brushed it away from her skin.

Harry continued to approach him—up close and personal. If they were on the ice the cages of their helmets would have been touching. “Let her go, right fucking now,” his shoulders were heaving.

“It’s fine,” she croaked. Harry didn’t even acknowledge her.

Was he trying to keep it together? Not make a scene, maybe? Harry was quick to anger—like most hockey players. He probably would have torn Kael limb from limb by now if this wasn’t a local place where fans and the rest of the team went.

“Let go of her,” her he repeated, his voice was so deep. His body shaking.

“Harry, I’m fine—”

He ignored her still and Kael continued keeping her in place despite her squirming. She wanted to whimper as he squeezed her tighter and pressed her hand harder into the table. To the untrained eye, you wouldn’t know. But Harry was watching like this was his favorite movie and they were at the climax of the plot. He saw the way she winced and her body bend slightly as he pressed harder. “Mind your fucking business, Styles,” Kael shook his head. “This doesn’t involve—”

“She is m’business. Especially when you’re fucking hurting her,” the whole bar area went silent as they realized one of their favorite celebrities was about to punch the lights out of one of the best names in hockey. “If y’don’t let her go, m’gonna rip your hand off, Crowe. And m’gonna enjoy it,” he promised shaking his head. “Let go of her.”

She wanted to move more but was utterly terrified. Harry could get in serious trouble. Kael wasn’t particularly dangerous, but his grip was making her whole arm ache. Harry’s threat made her stomach swoop; he was so ready to protect her. Of course that was nice, but she wanted to cry. Hurting one of the top professionals in the league (even if Harry was also at the top) was a great way to get a hefty suspension and fine if he was caught.

Just another way she was going to upend his perfectly normal, happy life.

“Harry, stop,” she begged.

“Yeah, Harry, stop,” Kael mimicked. But she inhaled sharply, pulling and moving again uselessly to try and get away from the grip he had on her wrist. She whimpered despite herself as the pain continued. “Mind your business Harry,” he snarled. “M’talking to my girlfriend.”

Harry didn’t acknowledge the comment. “Stop fucking touching her, Crowe.”

“She’s mine. I’ll do whatever I want to her.”

Harry stared at him, his gaze flicking to her wrist still pinned to the table. She was still squirming, looking to get away. Louis reached for her and Harry put his hand on his chest and pushed him away. He walked to the bar, grabbed a shot of whatever the bartender was pouring. His head tipped back as he sucked the liquid down. The quiet clink of his glass hitting the bar was the only sound in the room. Silently, Harry plucked the rings he wore when he wasn’t playing hockey off his fingers. He tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket. It felt like the seconds were ticking by in slow motion. Not even the pain from Kael’s tight grip on her hand was enough to draw her attention away from Harry’s movements.

She swallowed, her eyes pleading with Harry not to do it. It wasn’t that bad. She could take it. The pain she was feeling now was hardly anything in comparison to what he could do. This was nothing.

“One more time, Crowe... Let go. Of her,” Harry’s voice was even. Measured. It had the tone of I’m not asking again.

“She’s mine, Styles. Find someone else to stalk.”

Harry smirked, shook his head, and his eyes flickered to hers for only a second. Then they were back on Kael. “Oh. No. No she’s very much not yours.”

As slow as the seconds had ticked by, they all came rushing back at full speed; maybe time even sped up. Harry delivered a lightning-fast punch to Kael’s nose causing him to gasp and drop her hand as he instinctively reached for his face. With the toe of his boot, Harry tipped his chair before Kael could get his bearings, and he fell flat to his back. The chair broke into pieces with his weight. He gasped, trying to right himself and protect his nose from bleeding everywhere. Harry reached down before Kael could get a grip. He yanked him up by the collar and front of his shirt. A stupid, ugly orange and blue sweatshirt that Harry was delighted to wrinkle hard in his hands. Before Kael was barely on his feet, Harry hauled him backward. Shoved him hard into the bar so the edge dug into his spine, no doubt. Without pause, Harry delivered a solid punch to his cheek, a heel stomp to his foot, and knee to his stomach.    

Kael bent forward, gasping for air and Harry’s breathing was as even as if he was sleeping.

Her hand went to her mouth and the other to her stomach as she tried to hold herself together. Everyone looked in pure shock. Surely someone was supposed to try and stop Harry. Even if he was a hockey player for the town that everyone loved. But given he incapacitated Kael in a matter of thirty seconds it wasn’t like anyone wanted to try and stop him. Even Louis was speechless and looked in horror. “Are y’gonna touch her again?” He didn’t say anything, which was the wrong answer as Harry twisted him in an instant, pressing his face down into the bar, pulling his arm back behind his body. “I said, are y’gonna touch her again?”

“No,” he rasped.

“M’letting y’keep your hand. Don’t make me regret it,” he snapped and shoved him a final time into the bar. He dropped a few hundreds on the bar for the damage and his drink. “Louis, keep the change,” he muttered over his shoulder without sparing another glance at Kael. “S’time t’go, Bunny,” he murmured lowly for no one else to hear but her. He placed an arm around her waist, and tugged her toward the exit. Every pair of eyes followed them.

“B-but m-my shift—”

Without missing a beat, he grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and stuffed it in the front pocket of her apron. “Let’s go,” he repeated and ushered her outside.

Harry opened his passenger door and gestured for her to get in.

She looked nervous, which made Harry uneasy. This strong, brave woman who bantered with unruly hockey players and dealt with fans and drunk patrons looked a bit lost. “What about my car— I mean... your other—”

“Get in the car, Rookie,” he ordered.

She followed his direction. Harry waited until she was safely buckled inside before closing her in. He locked the door for the short walk around his car, only unlocking it so he could slip inside. Once seated and buckled, he turned the car on and immediately exited the parking lot. After driving in silence for several moments Harry dropped his hand on her thigh like it was an instinct.

He didn’t ask if she was okay. Which was kind of him, because how could she be? Her heart was thudding in her chest, her wrist hurt, and her brain was a mess. Harry’s hand on her leg should have made her uncomfortable given he didn’t ask. But it was almost too comforting, and she dreaded the idea that he would have to let go of her eventually.

“Don’t y’dare cry over him, bunny,” his voice was tight.

She sniffled, not realizing she was, in fact, crying. She swiped her hands across her cheeks. “Sorry,” she whispered looking toward the window.

Harry shook his head and sighed. His hand squeezed her leg while he pressed his head back into the seat hard—if the head rest wasn’t there and he didn’t have to watch the road, she was certain his eyes would be facing the ceiling of his car, searching for strength somewhere above him. His jawline seemed sharper than ever as he clenched his teeth. “Y’don’t have t’apologize.”

“Thank you,” she croaked quietly. “For doing that, I...” she swallowed hard. “I don’t really know what I would have done,” she admitted. The scenario didn’t seem to play out in full if Harry wasn’t there. Yeah, Louis would have helped, but this was different. Harry didn’t say anything. She pulled his wallet out of her apron and placed it in one of the cup holders between them. “I don’t want—”

“It’s yours.”

 “Harry, it’s not that—”

“Bunny, I haven’t stopped thinking ‘bout you all afternoon. Since I met you, really. I can’t stop. I used t’think ‘bout nothing but hockey. But s’like you’re the only thing on m’mind now. M’happy when I see you around the rink taking pictures. M’happy when y’try t’skate on m’pond. I love our lessons, and I want t’have y’in my house all the time. M’happy when you’re around. Happier than I’ve been in years, and I didn’t even know I wasn’t completely happy. I can’t have one-night stands anymore. I tried, I did. You’re a long shot. I know that. Someone who deserves a guy so much better than a hot-tempered hockey player as evident by the piece of shit that hurt you in so many ways,” His voice is quiet. “S’not a secret I like you. A lot. If we can only be friends and roommates—because m’sure as hell not bringing y’back to that sorry excuse of an apartment—then s'what I’ll do.”

There was only a brief beat of silence while she contemplated all he said. “I worked really hard on my apartment,” she whispered.

This seemed to soften him a little. He sighed. “It’s adorable, Bunny. It is. But m’constantly worried you’re going t’be kidnapped, robbed, or worse. You can move in this week,” he insisted. “I have the day off after tomorrow and I was going t’spend it at the gym t’lift with the guys so we can pack and move your shit all the same instead.”

“Harry, I don’t think that will work... I have to pay out the rest of my lease if I move out early.”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffed. She didn’t say anything. Because she kind of agreed that it was bullshit. But she couldn’t move in with Harry. Not when he just admitted he liked her the way she did. It set her heart into a dramatic flutter. Being legally bound would hopefully be enough of a reason for Harry to agree to let her stay until her lease ran out. Then she could figure out her next steps. “Fine,” he decided after a moment. “The black debit card in m’wallet will take care of it.”

She snorted unable to hide her shock. “Harry, you can’t—”

“M’done arguing with you ‘bout this, Bunny.” She frowned and looked at her hand, turning her wrist and wincing ever so slightly. “Is your wrist okay?” He asked.

She shrugged and answered instinctively. “It hurts; but I’ve had worse,” she gasped at her own mistake almost instantly. “Oh fuck, I mean—” she stopped speaking. It didn’t matter. It was too late. Harry saw through it and understood exactly what she meant. He clenched the steering wheel tighter and he swallowed. The bob in his throat looked like he was drinking a glass of nails.

“Did he ever hurt you like this before?” Harry’s voice was an octave lower than she ever heard it. His eyes narrowed as he stared forward.

She didn’t want to make matters any worse, so she didn’t speak. Didn’t move. For several seconds, the car seemed so silent it was as if the tires weren’t even on the ground anymore or if she was breathing.

“Harry,” she whispered eventually.

Harry took a deep breath not liking the tone of her voice and pulled off to the side of the road.

“What are we— Harry!”

Before she could understand what was happening, Harry was outside and opening his trunk and the car doors locked her inside. Instantly, he pulled out one of the back-up sticks he had in case his two in the locker room broke in the middle of a game (or if he wanted to practice while he was home on the pond out back). He slammed it hard on the pavement multiple times grunting as he did until the stick snapped. Then he grabbed a second and repeated this process again, swearing and cursing like he was imagining Kael was under the stick.

Once satisfied with his destruction, he collected the broken pieces and dropped them in the back before sitting in the driver’s seat again, his breathing only slightly elevated.

She stared at him wildly. Her eyes were wide and beautiful. “If he touches you again, m’killing him,” he said simply. It was a promise. His breath was heavy from the exertion.

She nodded; Harry put the car in drive and continued back toward his place. His hand went right back on her thigh, which she still found comforting and warm, even though she had only had the luxury of his hand on her for no more than a few minutes. “Okay,” she whispered hoping there wouldn’t be an again to speak of.

Harry let the silence linger again. “My apartment is the other way,” she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “I just told you, Rookie, y’not living there anymore.”

“Oh my God, Harry. You can’t be serious.”

He snorted. “No. I am. As a heart attack.”

“Harry I can’t move in—”

“Of course, y’can. I have like five bedrooms. Pick one. Pick three for all I care.”

She swallowed. “What if I pick your bedroom?” She was attempting to lighten the mood, maybe. Harry wasn’t sure. Or maybe she was trying (and failing) to be annoying. But Harry was never annoyed by her. He was amused at worst. She was adorable. Every little thing she did was adorable.

“Then it’s yours,” he shrugged. He was hardly home during the season anyway. With his niece, Mum, and Gem out of town, he wasn’t home much in the off-season either. He could easily move into another room if she wanted his. In fact, he probably would give her his room. It wasn’t the only one with a bathroom, but it had a nice tub that he knew was being wasted without proper use and it felt like she deserved a relaxing night to soak in the tub until she got pruney and everything else that stressed her in her life disappeared.

“I thought you didn’t bring women home to stay,” she reminded him.

“Never had one that I wanted t’bring home,” he shrugged.

She pressed her head to the window. He was quick. Didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll stay tonight, but I’m not moving in. My uncle is going to kill you.”

He shrugged. “S’a long line of Glacier Wolves who’ll want t’kill me before him.” She giggled softly under her breath. Harry glanced at her peripherally and smirked at the little smile that graced her lips. “M’niece is over a lot in the off season,” he told her. “Gem and Mum come by too. So s’had women there before.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Then, yeah. Never had a woman I wanted to bring home,” he repeated. Harry parked in his driveway, turned to her, his hand still on her thigh and honestly, she never wanted it to move.

“Are we still friends?” She blurted. He just admitted he liked her. It was no secret she liked him too. It could make things very awkward going forward so she wouldn’t blame him if he really didn’t want to be friends any longer.

“What a weird fucking question, Rookie,” he shook his head.

“Can you just tell me?”

“Yes, we’re still fucking friends. Despite the fact I would love t’be more.”

She closed her eyes. “He really fucked me up, Harry,” she whispered. “He... he wanted some trophy girlfriend that doted on him and worshipped him for being a good hockey player. He didn’t want me to be my own person. He didn’t want me to have my own hobbies or interests. Like I was nothing, a nobody—”

“Rookie,” he whispered.

“—and I just let him treat me that way. Because it was easier than confronting it—”

“Rookie.”

“—So I don’t want to keep falling for you because you... you’re so talented and you will overshadow me and you should. But it’s so fucking cold living in the shadow of someone else and I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

He winced. “Bunny,” he wanted her to stop.

“I don’t love that nickname either,” she sighed. “I want to. It’s cute and it’s even cuter when you say it. But the connotation of being a puck bunny is just more of what Kael insinuated and I don’t—”

“I don’t think you are a puck bunny. S’not why I call you that. Y’wrinkle your nose like a bunny when y’concentrate. S’the first thing I noticed when I met y’taking pictures rink-side. And you’re always going and going like the little Energizer bunny. But mostly, s’because you’re so fucking cute like a bunny. S’honestly nearly nauseating sometimes.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She swallowed trying to keep all the feelings of falling for another hockey player at bay. “So, I make you sick?”

He smiled. “Excessively.”

“And you want me anyway?”

“Excessively,” he whispered cupping her face. She leaned into the touch, closed her eyes, and sank into the way his hand caressed her cheek for a moment.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and looked at him shyly. “You probably know that he cheated on me,” she reminded him. “And the worst of it, I don’t know if it was the first time, and I don’t want to know. Because I already felt stupid for letting him belittle me and letting me forget parts of myself.”

Harry tilted his head back fully staring at the ceiling for a moment. “Yeah...” And now Harry knew this wasn’t the first time he had hurt her either. Whether it was intentional or not.

“And...” she swallowed. “I don’t think you’re like him... if you take anything away from this conversation, please know that I think you’re nothing like him. You’re up front about most of everything. He kept things from me. But... you’re you and you could have any woman you want in any city you want. I don’t fault you for that—I really hope you know that... but I don’t want to be a number anymore, Harry. I don’t want to feel like an idiot, and I don’t think you would intentionally make me feel like an idiot but—”

“Bunny,” he interrupted, turning back to gaze into her eyes so intensely it felt like everything around them disappeared except for the space between them. The seriousness in his green eyes made her stomach flip. They seemed darker. Like the color was changing to a darker shade to explain how serious he was and how he meant every word that spilled from his mouth. “I think you’re brilliant,” he whispered. “In every facet of your life. I’ve thought about nothing but hockey m’whole life. It has been eat, sleep, and breathe ice, pucks, and sticks. The second I met you, every thought has been ‘bout you,” he reminded her. “If I never played another game of hockey, I really think I would be okay s’long as y’were around.”

Her heart felt like it was broken and whole all at the same time. It was too sweet. She bit the inside of her lip. “Well, I don’t want that,” she whispered. “You’re quite good,” she reminded him.

He chuckled. “The point remains, Rookie... I want you t’have everything y’could possibly want. I want t’do anything I can t’help y’achieve anything y’want t’do.”

She looked at her lap. “I can’t believe you went to get a drink.”

“I really didn’t think y’would be there... was hoping I’d run into Louis and maybe he would know if y’were okay. Y’never answered my texts. Didn’t tell me y’made it home.” he frowned. “Why did y’lie t’me, Bunny?”

She took a deep breath. “The whole team has been so nice to me,” she whispered. “I’m not really used to that...” she trailed off. “Callie got so many penalties, you had to interrupt your post-game cool down to walk me to your car, everyone wants to take shifts to watch me... you have to drive me home, give me one of your car... I’ve seriously disrupted your lives... and it was all just too much today. I don’t want to bother you guys. You didn’t sign up to have a kid or a pet you need to watch. Uncle Charlie didn’t have to give me a job with a hockey team. I feel like I didn’t earn anything. It’s so sweet that all of you care, but it’s weird for me...”

God, she was cute. Even sad she was cute. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Y’haven’t disrupted our lives,” he promised. “We’d do this for anyone.”

“That’s comforting I suppose.”

“C’mon, s’late... we have a game tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

“Course, Rookie,” he squeezed her leg one more time and then got out of the car. (As she predicted, she hated the feeling of Harry’s hand anywhere else but her thigh.)

Entering his house, Harry kicked off his shoes and headed down the hall toward the bedrooms. She texted her group chat with Michael and Marc as she flopped onto the couch until she got more direction from Harry.

I’m at someone’s house for the night so don’t worry about me.

Michael reacted to her message with a thumbs up.

It better be a HOT hockey player.

Michael reacted to Marc’s message with a thumbs down.

Good night, Marc!

I want every INCH of detail

That earned a vomiting emoji from Michael. I do NOT want any details.

GOOD NIGHT MARC

*

Harry hated that he had a big house. If they were at her apartment, they could have been squished in her bed right then. She wouldn’t be down the hall and half of Harry’s mattress wouldn’t have felt so cold. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. Fortunately, his phone vibrated almost immediately. Like she somehow knew he was awake.

Are you awake?

M-hmm

Can we get breakfast, please?

Harry would throw himself down a set of stairs for her if she asked. “You could jus’ come in here t’ask,” he called.

“I’m creating boundaries!” She answered from a guest room. “Besides this bed is comfy and I don’t want to get up,” she giggled.

“Well, I don’t want boundaries,” he grumbled to himself. He wondered if she slept without pants on. Not that it mattered. He was turned on by the thought of her naked in his bed or if she was in a full snow suit.

“What did you say?” She called.

“Nothing,” he grumbled and pressed the palm of his hand over the front of his shorts willing the blood to rush anywhere but his dick at the thought of her in a goddamn snow suit. “I just have t’shower,” he mumbled.

“Okay, I’ll be here,” she sighed, and Harry could picture her snuggling herself further into the mattress. Maybe it was for the best she was in another room. If she was there looking all cute and cuddly on his bed, he would have to quit hockey. He would probably spend the rest of his life worshipping her on his mattress in every possible way.

Plus, his dick would never be anything but hard.

“Jesus, fuck,” he sighed to himself under the spray of the warm shower. He tried to think about anything but her pretty self in the other room. In his house. In his bed. In his clothes. She was probably changing into her uniform from the night before, so at least he wouldn’t see her in the shirt and shorts he gave her to wear for bed.

He shook his head and focused on shower and not what it would feel like to press her against the tile or—

“Fuuuuck,” he touched his forehead against the tile. Hockey. Defense. Goals. Niall. That’s good. Niall, gross. Callie—FUCK Callie. Asher owes me ten dollars for betting Lang wouldn’t say “good effort” in their pool game the other day.

His shower took twice as long to shower because he had to actively think about something other than his pretty friend. Once he was out, he slipped into a pair of sweats and one of his long sleeve practice shirts. As he put on his deodorant, he realized it took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize what she was doing as he got dressed. “Rookie, you are not,” he called as he hurried down the hall.

“Not what?” She asked innocently.

“Doing my dish—Rookie, what the hell!”

“They were just there! And I was bored, Harry. Plus, you didn’t say I couldn’t!”

“I told you last time.”

“Well yeah, but that was last time.”

“Please stop,” he begged and rubbed a hand over his face. “We’re supposed t’be going t’breakfast.”

“Well, I figured while you took two years to get ready,” it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes max but maybe his effort to not think about her in his shower took longer than he thought, “I would make myself useful,” she shrugged and set the final dish on the drying rack beside his sink. She turned the water off and ran the dishtowel over the counter and edge surrounding the sink. She turned, leaning against the counter. Her black and silver uniform top for The Locker Room was on her again. Her leggings from the night before clung to her legs like a second skin.

He wondered how she could look so cute after working a hectic, busy shift, then slept all night and it barely looked like she had a hair out of place. “What?” She asked looking down at her shirt. “Do I have something on this? We’ll have to stop at my apartment first if I do. I’m not going out with you to breakfast when you look hot and I look like trash,” she frowned.

He snorted. “Y’don’t look like trash, Rookie.”

“Well, do I smell or something?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You’re beautiful. Stunning really,” he shrugged one shoulder and reached out to touch her face. He skimmed his thumb along her cheek wishing he could lean in and kiss her until they were both breathless. He smiled softly enjoying the way her cheek warmed under his touch. For someone so snarky, she was awfully shy. “Let’s go,” he tilted his head toward the main hallway. He made his way before she could read into it as he was sure she was wont to do.

Harry opened her passenger door and smiled wickedly at her as she got in. “What?” She asked, her eyebrows pinching together.

“You think I’m hot,” he sang.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Harry chuckled, closing her inside.

*

Kael didn’t play because he was injured. The report sustained it happened at practice the day before but everyone on The Chargers bench knew. Kael kept his gear on but moved to the end of the bench for the starters and lines of his teammates that would be playing. He hardly cheered, hardly moved.

The rest of The Wolves sent death glares to everyone on the team. Harry was checked into the boards more times than he could count. But every time he caught sight of the pretty photographer twirling her wrist in between photos, he felt grateful for each hit. She continued to take pictures, placing her camera into the cutouts of the glass around the ice.

Kael hid from pictures from his own media specialist, the news outlets, and even the fans during the game and in between periods.

“Coward,” Asher growled as they left the ice and headed to the locker room at the end of the game. The group that typically resided in the back of The Locker Room was livid when they found out from Harry that Kael hurt her. They too must have seen the way she twisted her wrist around between pictures. Harry wondered if she noticed she was doing it. It ate at him that it wasn’t the first time that piece of garbage hurt her. There was nothing Harry could do—well, maybe if he ever did figure out time travel, he could. But for now, he could take the hits from Kael’s stupid team and make sure the pretty photographer was okay.

Besides.

He may have had a tough game physically, but Harry was truly on cloud nine.

“Sweetheart, you good?” Lang called from the front of the line heading back toward the locker room.

“I’m good!” She answered.

Harry didn’t even care that Niall was walking alongside her and not him. Or that Callie gave her arm a squeeze when he walked by. It didn’t bother him that Asher was as irate as him either.

Because the word Styles was on her body. It was purposeful. If Kael paid attention, he would see it. He would know she supported Harry, regardless of how outlandish it was (or wasn’t) that he defended her last night. Harry knew the second he saw it, that Kael was going to look at the pretty girl with his number on her and start fuming in his seat. Maybe that’s why his team aimed for him so vehemently throughout the game as well.

Whatever, Harry could take it.

It was well worth it to see his name on her jersey.

Harry realized it was his time to shine after they went out for breakfast. He drove her to get her car at Louis’. He followed her home to the shady apartment building. He wasn’t in the mindset to leave her for any bit of time given the night before. Maybe not for a good few days either if he had it his way. They had away games coming up so they would be all but trapped together on a plane, a bus, and in a hotel so that was in his favor.

He really hoped she would be in a nearby room at the hotel. Or better yet, there wouldn’t be enough rooms, and he could share his with her.

“Why’d you choose eleven?” She asked when she came out of her room after getting ready. She was fluffing her pretty hair and tugging at the hem of the jersey that she had put on. It took a moment to register in Harry’s mind that she was talking to him and was anticipating a response. In her mind, it was no big deal that she was nonchalantly wearing his name and number. That she was by far the prettiest thing he had ever seen. The sweetest person he knew.

He swore his heart skipped a beat as his vision refocused on the lovely girl wearing his name on her back.

He cleared his throat. “S’the first number I ever got,” he shrugged. “But now I say m’so good, m’number twice.”

She grinned and laughed quietly under her breath as she put earrings on with The Chargers logo. “I like that. You are very good. I’ve seen a lot of hockey myself. I like to think I’m a good judge of ability.”

When Harry was younger, he thought if he could have a superpower, he would want to time travel. As he got older it changed a bit, he wanted super strength so he could be the strongest hockey player. Read minds so he could predict the movements of opponents on the ice. Since he met her, he returned to the tried and true: if he could time travel, he could figure out twenty seconds after he kissed her if she hated him or kiss him back, he would have done it right then.

He smirked. “So m’the lucky one today?” He asked pulling on the sleeve.

“I don’t know, does wearing someone’s jerseys constitute as lucky for the day?”

He nodded. “Yeah, very much so, Rookie.”

“Then sure; you’re very lucky, Harry,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to keep his smile from splitting his face in half. He turned away slightly and caught sight of a string of pictures on her little kitchen bar. “What’s all this?” He asked, picking up a photo and inspecting it. It was one of the ones she took while Harry was practicing before the rest of the team showed up. Another photo she got laying down on the ice of Callie’s skates when Harry wanted to rip his teammate’s arm off for holding her so close that day. One from Niall’s empty net. Another of Asher’s locker, his jersey on display. A close up of the C on Lang’s jersey. One of just the empty rink—no fans, no players, nothing.

“Oh... I don’t know,” she looked away shyly piling them together. “I was playing with the idea of making a series of photos,” she flipped one over to indicate the back showed the number three in the line. “You guys are attractive and stuff, but I thought there was a lot of beauty in the little things behind the bench, you know? It’s not just fights and points. The rink is so pretty,” she shrugged.

Harry grabbed her hand before she could stack any more of them away. He looked at each of the pictures painstakingly selected from the hundreds of photos she took each day. The way the light shone off a helmet, the way a shadow fell on the bench. “They’re beautiful, Bunny. Why don’t y’do it?”

“Do what?”

“Make it a series?”

She shook her head. “No... I don’t know. Not many people care about sports photography,” she shrugged. “Not like this anyway.”

“Rookie, I think every team owner and manager in the league would pay t’have this set in their arena.”

“No way, there’s not a single headshot of a star player. In sports, the only thing that really sells by far is you guys and your pretty faces,” she patted his cheek. “It’s tragic, I have some incredible photos of a few baseball diamonds at sunset. But there’s no fans and no players so it just wouldn’t sell well.”

“Show me,” he urged.

She sighed and put her jacket over “We’re going to be late, Harry. Uncle Charlie is already going to be annoyed with me that I’m wearing your jersey. And so will the rest of the team.”

“They all had their turn, Rookie, y’made me wait forever,” he grumbled. They didn’t have to be annoyed. They didn’t have a crush on her the way Harry did. They all knew that. His teammates were his family, but they made him cranky no less; teasing him about how smitten he was about their photographer.

She smiled sadly. “Harry,” she sighed. “I’ll show you another time.”

“Promise?” He pleaded.

“Promise?” She repeated in disbelief. Harry was nearly thirty years old and sounded like he was in kindergarten.

“Promise you’ll show me,” he said pointedly.

“Alright, yeah," She shook her head, sighed with a smile still on her lips. "I promise.”

--

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We Had a Baby! (For a Grade?) - PT 1 -Malleus

Putting a divide up and a notice that Malleus' part WILL reference what he looked like in his younger fae form. For those that have made it through book seven, you know. For those that haven't made it to book seven, well...maybe skip this part.

Also...I thought these would be on the shorter side and I'd fit in multiple people but I guess Malleus is special. I'll try to be shorter with the other parts to get more people in.

Finding "Mal" names were hard, man.

Note: in this piece, book seven hasn't happened so this is the first time that Silver and Sebek are seeing fae eggs.

I'm trying out a hybrid style for this because it would be waaaay too long if I just typed it all in story form. Some story, some bullet points.

Not proofread. Need to give my eyes a break. Will review it later.

Malleus

The idea seemed positively strange to the Dragon Prince--people of your world treating sustenance as children? That didn't seem very productive of society at all! How were you to thrive as a species? What would a bag of flour do for you when you fell ill in old age? How could a potato assist you if you could not eat it?

Professor Crewel was also intrigued with the idea, so much so that he made it into an assignment. The puzzling introduction of your society's fondness for turning food into family quickly became a monologue on culturing fortitude, overcoming challenges, and assuring the class that this assignment met the 'general life skills' criteria expected of NRC and their excellent mages.

Crewel wouldn't admit it for anything less than a foolproof spell that could make Crowley competent, but he, Trein, and Vargas had bets on what the children would look like. They also had their preferred parents, of course. Given that he was the instructor of the class, he could pick as he pleased.

And he would. And he did.

He was very intrigued with the idea of fae offspring, as he had encountered (and rescued) only smaller species over the course of his potion-making career. Malleus was of impressive size and rare lineage so what would a baby version of him look like?

Like the rest of the class, Crewel was silent and stunned when the two of you stepped out of the summoning circle to see five shiny, pebbly eggs. The eggs were quite large and they had an iridescent sheen to them that could almost pass for a trick of the light. Upon closer inspection, the eggs had almost a geometric, scale-like pattern to them. Some spots thinner than others, giving a suggestion of something curled up inside.

Something warm and joyous roared in Malleus. A jolt of...something...struck deep at his core and all his nerves sang at once. Was this the parental instinct? He felt his eyesight sharpen, honing in on his clutch. His pointed ears flexed, somehow taking in the myriad of sounds around him to the point where he could tell Epel's nose was stuffed and Trey had a dry throat. Magic radiated off of him, sensed but unseen as it seeped into various objects around the room and things began to jump and float.

You picked up the nearest egg and he found it positively endearing. It was nearly as big as your torso! "We got eggs?" you were absolutely confused and held it out to him as if he could explain.

"Indeed! A fine bunch!" Malleus scooped up the other four and excused himself. The specks of green magic had just died when he returned with a basket woven from black briars. Humming and glittering with magic, Malleus gestured for you to put your egg in the vacant spot. The briar vines were alive, curling carefully around the other eggs--thorns facing out--and acting as individual holders.

Something in you said no and you weren't sure why. You just...didn't want to let it go. The egg seemed to pulse against you. "No," you shook your head as Malleus re-wove the briar vines to wrap around his body like some sort of vest, "my egg."

He let out a peal of laughter, head tilted back. Fae were nothing if not protective of their young. Dragon fae were a league above. Perhaps the eggs had cast an enchantment on their magicless parent? Or were his tendencies rubbing off on you? Either way, it was precious.

He'd want nothing less out of his partner.

Anything Crewel said was lost on Malleus, the future king looking over his shelled children as if they were the most precious jewels. His attention was recaptured by the sight of Deuce helping wrestle the assignment binder into your bag. Realizing this was the class that didn't have Lilia, Sebek, or Silver, he requested the class NOT breathe a word to the other Diasomnia students.

It was meant as a request but it came off as more of a decree. A command.

He wanted to give Lilia a proper scare. It was only fair, given his constant nagging and fretting over eggs. The old bat was more than due for a good startle.

"Come, Child of Man!"

You were surprised Malleus wanted to walk to Diasomnia instead of teleport. He explained that dragon eggs were nurtured by the same things that created them--magic and love. The basket was steadily infusing the eggs with his magic, strengthening the children aiding in proper growth. Teleporting may startle them and bursts of magic weren't really suitable for egg development. "So, wait, you love me?"

Your smile was teasing but no less beautiful to him. "Of course," he said with an honesty and ease that hinted at his sheltered upbringing, almost bewildered that you couldn't understand that yourself. "Ceaselessly. That's why Lilia separates us. It would be far too easy to make eggs. Advantageous, though. You can never have enough dragon fae!"

All you could do was blush. Malleus was quite happy with himself. The eggs wiggled and clattered softly against each other, their version of bouncing with delight. You were quite a fertile partner! It was rare enough to sire one egg every few hundred years but you had five!

If you became fae, how many clutches would you have? Malleus wanted a big family, personally. Perhaps one day a Draconia would rule each dorm at NRC! He at least wanted enough that no one felt sick trying to eat a birthday cake.

Malleus flung the door to Diasomnia open with enough force that it ricocheted off the stone, unable to control his strength in his excitement. "Behold, I have sired!"

Sebek was the only noticeable victim, midway through a sip of tea. He practically sucked the cup dry and began to choke. He didn't know whether to lean between his legs and let things drain or throw himself over the back of the couch and clear his throat. Lilia dropped his cup and saucer, tea spilling onto the couch and cup splintering on the floor as he took to beating Sebek on the back. The poor boy was basically being ground into the stone.

You wondered if Lilia looked terrified at the idea of Sebek choking or the sight of the eggs in the basket. His hair was more pointed than usual, seeming to float in distress. Silver had been jostled awake but couldn't quite understand what he was looking at.

These three didn't have potions until later on in the week so Malleus spoiled the lesson for them. Poor Lilia still looked like he wanted to have a heart attack. "We should tell Queen Maleficia."

"Perhaps when they hatch," Malleus was already looking for things to make a nest. It was imperative that his children were comfortable and guarded. You as well! He actually had the brilliant idea to build the nest with you at the center so the children could feel the love you emitted. Yes, you may be a different species and there would be many things to discuss about handling fae but he had no doubts of your capacity to love them.

Your nest was finished off with a fine, fluffy blanket that was surprisingly warm. Far warmer than it looked. "It is made of dragon scale," Malleus explained as he fanned it out over you and the clutch until he was satisfied, "we dragons can repurpose our shedding into things with magical properties."

"These blankets are usually familial gifts," Lilia added as he swept up the pieces of his broken cup. "They're handy for fighting the hibernation instincts when the colder months come."

"What if it's too warm for the kids?"

To hear you say the word 'kids' sent his stomach curling and churning in a way that left him oblivious to your worries. He's surprised a sixth egg didn't spawn, honestly.

What if they couldn't handle the heat as well since you were human? Wouldn't it, like, cook them?

"Fear not, my child of man. Draconias require heat, as we are a fire-breathing variant of dragon fae. They will be fine."

You hummed interestedly and resigned yourself to laying there for a while. It was weird to feel the eggs wiggling and pulsing around you. When you slipped out to grab your binder and see just what this assignment entailed, you were delighted to find Malleus almost stubbornly sticking himself under the blanket. It was for a constant infusion of magic, he said, but you were sure he just didn't want to leave the children alone. He looked obscenely happy to be around the eggs, squishing his lanky form down to touch all five.

The assignment was pretty basic---watch the kid (or kids) for a week and fill out some pages on height, weight, favorite activities, foods, and have them work on a few worksheets so Crewel could review their cognitive development. There were even spots to put handprints and footprints!

"How long do dragon fae even take to hatch?" you asked as you flipped through the assignment. "What if they're not hatched in a week?"

"It's an advanced spell so I'm sure the incubation process will be sped up, too." Lilia rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But dragons hatch at different rates. There's a lot of factors involved."

"Which is why you should come back to the nest. Maybe they'll hatch faster if we're together." Malleus peeled back a corner of the blanket for you, eggs already clustered in his lap. You humored him, sliding back in and taking two of the eggs. The blanket was pooled around you now, eggs on full display. Silver and Sebek hovered at the edge of the nest, wanting to touch the eggs but a little hesitant.

"Only a little," Malleus cautioned them, his eyes bright. "I don't know if they would funnel your magic."

"Nonsense, my boy," Lilia returned with a thick book and tapped it on Malleus' head gently. "I held you plenty and I was fine. The eggs need to be exposed to all kinds." his clever ploy of handing Malleus a book of names in exchange for an egg almost cost him an arm.

"Instinct," Malleus apologized, letting go. His cheeks were tinged with pink.

"Likewise," Lilia gave him a cheeky smile, egg now cradled to his chest. He held it with both hands and bounced it a little. "This one might be a boy. Feels as heavy as you did!"

The book fell open to the 'M' section and you found it a bit curious. It was even weirder when you realized it fell open to MAL as if this section had been searched for a thousand times. "We Draconia have a tradition with our names," Malleus explained, pointing to his. "As followed by my mother," he pointed to 'Maleanor', "and her mother before her," he pointed to 'Maleficia'.

Thus began a discussion of names. Sebek and Silver were more than happy to give their input. They were quite handy in making sure the names weren't TOO weird. After hearing some of the ones that came out of Lilia's mouth, you could tell Silver was happy to get off with such a simple name. "I was actually thinking of renaming you at one point, you know," Lilia looked at the silver-haired boy, "too many people thought your name was too close to 'iron'. They thought you'd be unlucky."

"I like my name." Silver mumbled quietly.

After what felt like hours, you settled on five names: Malachite, Malum, Mallar, Malchus, and Malric. Lilia had picked up all the eggs and was convinced they were boys. You weren't sure how fae could judge gender from an egg, but he'd been around a lot longer than you. Malleus was so engrossed in the name exchange that he hadn't noticed Lilia sneaking the eggs off his lap to give them to Silver and Sebek. The sight of everyone holding an egg was sweet, you thought.

And realistic. If Malleus ever did have children, Silver, Sebek, and Lilia would be crucial in their lives.

The egg in your lap began to rattle. A deep crack formed at the top. Malleus quickly put it next to his. Three eggs hemmed the two. Hatchings usually happened together, you supposed, because the cracking of the first egg seemed to cause small cracks in the one next to it.

These little eggs were practically hatching in your lap and you were too scared, to in awe, to move them. You saw glimpses of wet scales, tiny horns, little claws, and maybe a tail before they started climbing out of the eggs. It was a very slimy affair. "A double! OH SEVENS, A DOUBLE!" Lilia practically inhaled a piece of eggshell when two little dragons climbed out of one egg. Malleus separated them gently, holding one each by their tender little bellies. He cooed at them.

"This one smells different," Malleus narrowed his eyes at the one in his right hand. Lilia gave it a cautious sniff.

"It's a girl!" Lilia, Sebek, and Malleus gave the others another smell in case the missed the gender. End result: five boys, one girl. 'Malin' was a maybe name that became a real one. Lilia ran off to tell Maleficia--somehow? You weren't sure how. Couldn't imagine a Queen having a cell phone--while the four of you started trying to get...claw prints...for the assignment.

Human babies, you had an idea of. Fussy when hungry, wet, and practically anything else but dragon babies were on a different level! You felt like you were wrestling a big cat! They were on the playful side, thankfully, but touching their claws and tiny pads earned gummy nips and a lot of writhing.

Silver was having the easiest time, somehow. Sebek had already been tail-slapped and gummed. A second dragon was climbing up his back and pawing at his hair. You had huffy, smoky protests and some scratches from the one in front of you; the other was currently chewing on your shirt and pulling at it. Malleus was locked in the growl version of a 'yes-no' as his dragon baby rolled every which way but onto the paper correctly.

This was going to be a long week.

Your week consisted of:

Trying to find a way to differentiate them. You tried painting their claws a certain color but that went as well as trying to get a print for the assignment. Tying cute little bandannas and things around their necks just caused a bunch of shredded mess to be cleaned up. You finally learned to tell them apart by the slight color difference in their bellies

Malric and Malin getting into fights consistently, tangling themselves into a big ball of scales and snarling and nipping at each other. The other three were usually a casualty. Malachite figured out he could separate them by flopping on top of them when they rolled by.

Malum was a biter and Mallar was a head-butter. When the twins turned on Malachite (as they often would), Mallar would come out of nowhere to headbutt Malric. You don't know how Malin escaped practically unscathed when she was literally half the problem. Malchus was your 'they're doing it again!' alarm child.

Lots of baby dragon ambushes. You're only holding ONE of them? HOW DARE YOU! You will soon find yourself besieged by baby dragons as they crawl over each other to cuddle and get attention. It doesn't matter what you were doing or holding before the onslaught.

Finding random piles of equally random things. Malleus says they're trying to build their hoard. Random 'hoards' you've found include: socks, silverware, pens, pencils, buttons, and several Diasomnia hats.

They learn to blow smoke at each other when they have their dragon arguments and it's not uncommon for windows to be opened to air Diasomnia out. Malleus is highly amused.

Zoomies at night. Because they're dragon fae, they're nocturnal and they don't understand you need to sleep. They usually sleep in a supervised pile in Malleus' room but will cause an UNGODLY amount of noise if they're not entertained.

They have cuddle piles when they sleep. Silver is main cuddle pillow. He's practically smothered by baby dragons but they all make these tiny, happy chirps when they nap with him. Sebek tried to wake Silver up and got three clouds of smoke blown at him all at once.

Taking them to NRC on Day 1 was a terrible, terrible idea. They were after anything that wasn't nailed down (for the hoard), wanted to climb everything, and would randomly squirm out of your arms to follow the students if something interested them. Idia about pissed himself when he noticed one had followed him to flying class.

Making it through a day of classes was almost impossible. Lilia, Sebek, and Malleus were constantly texting each other to do a kid count after Idia brought Malachite back. You didn't even know that Mallar had disappeared (you had Malin and Malum) until you heard about Sebek interrupting one of Cater's lives to snatch the baby dragon from him! After nearly giving Trein a heart attack and politely rescuing Lucius from Malin, the teachers agreed to make all of your assignments 'take home' until the kids were more...controllable.

You want to try socializing them again on Day 2 but Lilia insists they're still too feral and he doesn't want a repeat of Day 1. He has found immense joy in the laser light Idia gave him. It keeps him AND the kids occupied!

You and Malleus are doing constant kid counts. More than once you've only found five instead of six and Lilia is usually the culprit. Malchus is the number one victim.

They get their human form on day 3. You're not too hurt that they look like copies of Malleus. It's a spell and he's the one that has magic. He argues that some of the kids have your eye color, though. Malum has your hair color.

After Day 3, things get considerably easier. Feeding them is no longer a thing where you might have to write your will in advance. They're more open to trying things and quit trying to eat off of each other's plates like they'll never see food again. You think you see some sharing!

They speak in small sentences and prefer to point to things they want. Their favorite thing to do is to hang off of someone's shoulders (usually Malleus) and just guide them to what they want.

Malric likes spicy food, Malin prefers salty things, Malum is your unexpected sweets kid, Malchus devours all things citrus and sour, Malachite will eat a whole loaf of bread if you don't watch him, and Mallar is the pickiest eater.

Malum is your gentle cuddlebug

Mallar has physically fought Lilia over dinner because he didn't want to eat what Lilia cooked. He was the first one to breathe fire and almost burned Lilia's nose.

You measured the children for the assignment and was surprised to see that Malum was tallest. He spent so much time cuddled up to you that you didn't notice. Malachite is second-tallest, Malric just after him, with Malin and Mallar being tied for shortest.

Silver takes them on a walk through the woods every afternoon. He makes everyone hold hands. Malleus isn't far behind and usually steals one to ride on his shoulders.

Despite how loud he is, none of the kids really listen to Sebek. Malleus and Lilia make them listen. Malachite is the first to leave room when Sebek gets loud. Malin is most likely to comfort him and make an effort. She coaches him, to your surprise ("People would like you more if you weren't so loud.")

Lilia invites Baur over to see the children because he just has to brag. Something about the intimidating crocodile fae sends Mallar into a hissing, gouging mood and Baur is most amused. He play wrestles with them (as much as a stern-faced ex warrior plays) and thinks they'll make fine fighters one day.

Malin accidentally scratched a scale off of him and got a little worried. Baur and Lilia were in shock. "A fine princess! You'll take after your grandma one day!" Lilia smiled.

Day 4 is a visit from Queen Maleficia herself and you don't know what to think. The kids have all huddled around you--protecting you--as they assess this new dragon. You expected her to be much harsher, getting the anti-human warnings and all, but she's nicer than anticipated. The most she said to you was 'Impressive clutch size' but that counted, right?

Malchus, your favorite kitchen helper, caught what he thought was a look from her. One aimed at you. He looks her dead in her face and says, 'If you don't like them, I won't love you for a thousand years."

She laughed so hard you didn't know what to think. Neither did Lilia.

Queen Maleficia brought them little trinkets and snacks from Briar Valley. Their favorite thing was a back-scratcher. They sat at her feet for hours, just letting that rough weird brush go over them. The dragon vocals were in full swing and she answered them in dragon speak. She was impressed with how they helped Lilia set the table and had a good laugh at Mallar saying, "If you don't let Lilia cook I will love you for a thousand years."

It was an unexpected visit but it couldn't have gone too badly because there was no lightning involved (according to Lilia).

Day 5 saw you trying to integrate the kids into NRC. It went much smoother this time but there were still disappearances. And favorites.

Malin seemed to like hanging out with Jack and Trey the most and got in trouble more than once for trying to pick pieces of fur off of Crewel's coat.

Mallar liked Cater and Kalim; Mallar was actually one of the more outgoing kids.

Malchus found company with Epel and Jamil. He'd go on and on about how Epel talked funny and Jamil made the most delicious food ever.

Malachite thought Idia's hair was cool and wanted to know what all of his 'strange stuff' did. That discussion led to Rook butting in and saying how cool Science Club was, so Malachite ended up following Rook around to learn things after Idia's people battery was drained.

Malric was heavily influenced by Ace; the two had gotten in trouble for letting the flamingos out but he didn't care because he got to ride one. He promptly stole Riddle's tiny crown while the redhead attempted to lecture him and only gave it back after Malleus literally dragged him to the throne room of Heartslabyul and held him up by the back of his shirt like a sad puppy.

Malum liked to stick with Silver but was encouraged to get to know Riddle while learning to ride horses. The young dragon was impressed by what Riddle knew and asked him a million questions. Riddle suggested he get to know Azul, but Malum quickly decided that friendship was not for him. Azul smelled funny and he had an overwhelming urge to bite him. In the end, his favorite person on campus was Lucius (even though that doesn't count).

They wrote down who they hung out with, what they liked, and what they did for Crewel before taking their assessments.

The end of the assignment saw you and Malleus with an A; the kids were healthy and strong. Their assessments were all above average but Crewel could see that only Malachite and Malum actually tried. Malric did it because he was nagged, Malchus was told he'd sit there for however long it took (no interest whatsoever), and Malin did it with such disdain her papers were actually singed.

Before the kids disappeared, you were presented with a bunch of scales and shedding. It was heartwarming. Lilia did say the sheddings were familial, after all.

They disappeared in a puff of smoke and you let everything settle. You survived five days with dragons! That was impressive! As if he could read your mind, Malleus said, "Grandmother was impressed, too. She looks forward to her great-grandchildren coming around again."

[hirayalore]

you and sirius never discussed it out loud, but you both knew that you didn’t want to have kids after everything that happened in the last 13 years.

it wasn’t always like that, though (contrary to popular belief). he could faintly remember back then when both of you were still studying in hogwarts that you’d open the prospect of having children with him and having a family someday—and sirius, although scared to death at the thought of ever raising kids his own when he didn’t even grow up with good parents himself, was amicable with the idea if it meant that he’d see little versions of you running around in your future home.

but then he was imprisoned for 12 years, and that was 12 years of not spending every single day with you, of not waking up in bed beside you, of not being able to share meals, of not being able to do the most normal things that young couples did in their twenties… of not being able to propose, of getting married, of having a family together…

so, when he came back and got his name cleared by the ministry, all he wanted was to make up for that lost time. you and him were already 37 years old after all, and although it wasn’t relatively old, he still felt like both of your years ahead would never be enough to compensate for what has been taken—making the prospect of having kids and having to think of someone else other than yourselves unappealing.

until one night, he decided to make a bold step in knowing whether you two were truly on the same page like he was assuming. you never told him about your opinion regarding it, but in the way you were with him after his return, he could feel it in his bones that you didn’t want to focus on anything else other than your rekindled relationship with each other.

but he just had to make sure.

“darling,” he murmured, as you two were trying to fall asleep, his arms around you while your nose was nuzzling his throat, “do you… still ever think about having children?”

you raised your head up almost immediately, meeting his gaze. “what’s with the question?”

“nothing. it’s just that—it’s something we used to talk about. ages ago, really.”

“yeah, it was.” your eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if you were trying to recall the times you did talk about it. “we used to plan that we’d buy a flat in london and live in a muggle city, just to piss your parents off further.”

he chuckled. “we did.”

“and we’d have two kids. one girl and one boy.” you smiled, faintly remembering now.

sirius nodded. “they’d both should have my eyes—”

“and then have the rest of my features, with the nose being a requirement.” you finished for him, saying the exact line he used to tell you back then. 

the two of you laughed at the memory, fascinated at how the teenage mind works when you’re in love. at that age, you always felt invincible, like nothing could ruin the plans that you and your lover have made for yourselves. you would always believe that everything would go smoothly and that happily-ever-after was right next door, never ever thinking that adulthood could potentially drive you crazy or in this case, a dark wizard was going to try to seize control over your people.

when the laughter died down, you gazed deeply at each other, understanding that just as the times have changed—so have the circumstances and ultimately, your decision.

you ran your fingers on the side of his head, combing parts of his hair, admiring the manner in which his face showed nothing but quiet contentment.

“maybe in another life,” you began, voice coming out as a whisper, “we’d have those things. we’d have kids, and have a big home, but right now…” you leaned closer and pressed your forehead against his, savoring the proximity you once longed for in thousands of nights. “i’m happy with just the two of us. with you, sweetheart.”

sirius smiled and nodded, a hand gently rubbing along the expanse of your back, tugging you closer. “me too, love.” he sighed. “me too.”

with no other words needed to be spoken, you pressed a brief yet firm kiss on his lips before sinking back in your previous position, embracing him and nestling in his arms, knowing that even an eternity of making up for what fate had stolen would never feel enough.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[treatbuckywkisses]

The yearning and tension are so well written:( this made my tummy hurt in the best way😭😭 all mixed in with a very enticing side story this was so incredible it felt like I was really there in the room !!!! 

     Your stomach twisted at the words, the culpability of your actions threatening to eat away at it. Even after everything you said, even after running away from him and deserting him at the fair, he still only wanted to know you were safe. There were so many things you wanted to say. Nothing, however, was a good enough response in your mind. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t leave a door open for more. No matter what you told him it would either crush his heart or give him hope.      You didn’t dare do either. :( when we start with the angst it really gets me😭 the last part of this is SO good 

     Natasha sighed, her lips in a tight line,” Y/n, you’re joking right? You two have already been something more to each other for a long time now. Please, none of us are blind to how you two favor each other over the rest of us.” You took a second to let her words sink in. idiots in love 💕 I'm a SUCKER 

     But in this case, it was okay, because at least in this case you were the bad guy. You were the heartbreaker and everyone can hate you. No one has to pick sides because you made it easy for them to choose Bucky, and you were okay with that.  baby:( this paragraph punched me in the gut so hard

     Bucky was one of those people. When your eyes locked as you looked out into the sea of the trial audience he sent you a small smile and gave you an encouraging nod. That was all you needed to knock your closing statement out of the park. UGH WHEN IS THE LOVE COMING I'M SICK THEY ARE SO IDIOTS IN LOVE😭😭

     “You’re scared of things changing, but can't you see they already did?” iconic nat always so smart

     There was a slight shifting sound on the other side of the door before he spoke, “Look, these past few weeks I tried really hard to push my feelings away, but I was only getting more frustrated with myself. In pushing my feelings away, I pushed you away and I don’t want that. I miss you,” his voice broke toward the end and he paused before continuing, “I want you—no, I need you to be a part of my life even if it's just as friends. Y/n, don't think for one second I regret taking you on that date because I don’t, but I can’t keep going on acting like we don’t know each other anymore.” shutup im crying:( this is sooooo precious:(((((( my heart is HURTING for him

     You were in love with Detective James Buchanan Barnes. GOOD YES FINALLY😭😭😭😭 IT'S LIKE I CAN BREATHE AGAIN

      The cookies were to sweeten up your apology, which was a long thought-out one you wrote in the notes app on your phone before going to bed. It could honestly rival any speeches you had ever given in court. so relatable (I live in my notes app) 

     The apologies, the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the frustration, and everything in between melted away leaving only the love that was blossoming between you two behind. I love angst with a happy ending ( this made me physically ill and if I didn't read love soon I would DIE ) this is so cute I love them: ( even though it hurt

love them love you🫶🏻

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case. 

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending 

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I 

     You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back. 

     Eventually, you would have to face him. 

     Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

     Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

Keep reading

[come-as-you-are-111]

do a minsu x reader where minsu cry’s over smth and reader hugs and comforts him because he isn’t afraid to cry and he falls in love with her cause she i kind and sweet and she’s had a crush on him

Falling For You

Warnings: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!

The dorm is quieter than usual. It’s one of those rare moments between games where no one is talking, no one is fighting—just the sound of slow breathing, the occasional rustle of blankets, and the quiet weight of survival sinking in.

And then, you see him.

Min-Su sits on the edge of his bunk, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hands are clasped together, fingers anxiously twisting the fabric of his jumpsuit. His head is bowed low, his shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breaths.

You hesitate.

It’s not often you see someone openly upset here. People usually swallow their emotions, bury them deep down, because in the Squid Game, weakness is dangerous. It’s a place that forces you to be numb, to pretend you don’t feel a damn thing.

But Min-Su isn’t like the others.

He always felt things deeply, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. And that’s exactly why you’re drawn to him.

Taking a quiet step closer, you lower your voice. “Min-Su?”

His head lifts slightly, and even in the dim light, you catch the faint shine of tears before he quickly wipes them away with the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rough, unsteady. “I know it’s stupid to get emotional here.”

Your heart clenches. “It’s not stupid.”

You sit beside him, close enough that your knee brushes his, but you don’t press him to talk. You just wait, letting him decide if he wants to let you in.

For a moment, all he does is exhale slowly, rubbing a hand down his face before finally whispering, “It’s just… everything. The games. The people we’ve lost. And I keep wondering if I’ll make it out—if any of us will.”

He shakes his head, staring down at his hands. “I don’t want to be another nameless body on the floor.”

There’s something so heartbreakingly human in the way he says it, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out—your fingers gently curling around his hand.

His breath hitches at the contact, his gaze flickering to yours, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it, like he needs it.

And then you move without thinking, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a firm, warm embrace.

At first, he freezes, like he’s not used to this kind of comfort. But then, ever so slowly, he lets go—his hands gripping the back of your jumpsuit as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

His breath is warm against your shoulder, uneven, but he doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t try to mask the way his body trembles slightly against yours.

“I hate that we’re stuck in this place,” you murmur against his shoulder. “But I’m glad I met you.”

His arms tighten around you, as if those words alone are enough to steady him. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours—soft, vulnerable, something unspoken lingering between you.

“You mean that?”

You nod, your heart hammering.

You’d had a crush on Min-Su since the moment you first spoke to him—since you realized he wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t ruthless. He wasn’t selfish. He cared.

And right now, looking at you like this, something in his gaze shifts—like he’s seeing you in a way he never has before.

“You’re too kind for this place,” he whispers, his fingers still gently holding onto your sleeve. “That’s why I—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your stomach flips, warmth spreading through your chest, but it’s more than just a crush now. It’s something real, something that exists despite the chaos around you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you squeeze his hand. “Then at least we’re in this together.”

And for the first time in days, he smiles.

A/n: hi my lil monsters! How we likey? First min-su fic and this request is honestly so cute and I just knew I had to do it! If you have any request send em in!

Love ya, Twilight

squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 15 - Special Delivery

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic. CW: Death, use of weapons, violence, military inaccuracies. AN: I'm sorry but none of you are ready for the next part...

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

It feels like every time you walk into a room with them it’s more and more awkward. You feel like eyes are digging into you as you walk over to the table in the room and put the laptop down.

“Give me your boots.” Johnny says coming over to you. Before you even question him you’re already taking them off. “I’ll dry them by the radiators.” You nod, Gaz walks up to you as you open the laptop.

“Can you help her set up a keyword search or something?” Price asks.

“What are you looking for?” Gaz asks, pulling the laptop towards him. You look over at Ghost sticking a cloth into some part of a broken down weapon. 

“Here, type in what you want to search for.” He says turning the laptop back to you. 

“What should I search for?” You ask the room. 

“Try Makarov.” Price asks from the doorway. You type it into the search bar, you have no idea what Gaz has done or how he managed to get it working so quickly. In fact the search part seemed to take the longest. You pull a chair over and sit down clicking through each thing. 

“Just some emails, nothing really. They’re talking about the post being shut down.” 

“Try missiles.” Gaz says you nod typing it in if you try Arabic first and nothing comes up so you switch to Russian. There’s only one document, you open it and there's a list and pictures of missiles, at the end there’s a link. You click it and it opens to a video. 

It’s Makarov, he's talking about something, it looks like he’s in some kind of lab or something. He picks up a vial of something. Everyone but Ghost have moved over to the table now.

“What’s he saying?” Gaz asks. 

“He’s talking about a chemical. Those missiles in the garage they’re-” You stop continuing to listen to him. “Chemical bombs, he's using the missile casings to make chemical weapons.” 

“If those are empty shells outside, where are the insides?” Johnny asks.

“Probably with Al Qatala.” You say, the video finishes on a freeze frame of Makarovs face. You look up, Ghost has started putting the weapon back together now. 

“What kind of chemicals?” Price asks. You go back to the document turning it so Johnny can see, he scans over it for a few seconds. 

“That's like white phosphorus.” He says pointing at something. “This is some kind of gas.” 

“Like in Urzikstan?” Gaz asks.

“Like Urzikstan?” You ask.

“He had sarin gas. This is different though.” Johnny says you raise an eyebrow looking up at Price who has his arms crossed with a concerned look on his face. 

“What do we do now?” Gaz asks. 

“We send this to Laswell, let her start looking through it. Tomorrow when we follow them to Makarov we’ll know more.” Price says then moves away from the laptop. 

“I can keep looking.” You say moving the laptop back towards you. 

“Laswell’s programs are faster, besides we need to get some rest. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” He says. You nod pushing the laptop back to Kyle.

…

Everyone wakes before the sun is up. You slept uncomfortably, not because you had no bed and you were basically sleeping on the hard floor. Because Johnny had the building so hot you woke up in a pool of sweat. At least your clothes are dry though, mostly. 

“Tea?” Johnny asks, passing you a plastic cup. You yawn taking it from him.

“Carry tea into a warzone with you all the time?” You ask.

“Cause, how would we function without it?” You look over at Gaz sitting next to you, you smile at him. 

“No time for a tea break. They could be here any minute.” Price says. You sip the tea anyway; it's sweet and milky not like the kind you’re used to. You get up going over to where all the gear is drying and pick up your vest. It’s still damp but it’s better than being sodden. 

You walk over to the window where Ghost and Price are standing. 

“When do you think they’ll be here?” You ask, tightening the vest. 

“Anytime now.” Ghost says.

“How are we going to follow them without being spotted?” You ask.

“We’ll take the car they left yesterday, if they do see us we’ll hope they think it’s one of them.” Price says. You don’t know if that will work but you trust him. 

“When we get there what's the plan?” You ask. 

“Haven’t got that far yet.” Price smiles and turns to look back into the room. You raise an eyebrow, Johnny comes up next to you throwing his arm over your shoulders. 

“Hey, wanna cozy up with me in the back of the car when we leave?” He says winking at you, you feel heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“You’re driving.” Price says smiling. Johnny’s arm leaves your shoulder as he starts to complain. You chuckle going back over to the window. 

“C’mon, help me pack. You two keep a lookout.” Price says walking past you. You lean up against the window, looking out at the garages. 

“So. What's with the mask?” You ask looking over at Ghost, he turns slightly and crosses his arms looking at you. He doesn’t answer, you frown at him. 

“I think it’s cute.” You tease. He scoffs going to look back out the window. “Are you shy or something? You don’t seem shy.” 

“I don’t like people knowing what I do.” He says. It’s not really a satisfying answer. 

“What, you don’t want people knowing you're military?” You ask. He just lets out a sigh.  

“I get it.” You say looking back out the window. “You want to keep work and home life separate. Do you have someone at home waiting for you?”

“No.” He says quickly. “Not anymore.” 

You don’t press him any further, it feels like you’ve hit a nerve. You’re not waiting much longer, the sun has only just started to break over the horizon when a truck pulls up to the gate. You all make it outside and climb into the car they hid round the back of the building. 

You all wait in silence hearing the garage doors open and close. Johnny doesn’t turn the engine of the car on until you all hear the distant click of the front gates slamming closed. By that point everyone is getting somewhat restless, you’re sat in the back between Ghost and Gaz. Price is in the front with the laptop on his knees. 

“Laswell thinks they might be heading to an old cold war base a few hours from the border of Kastovia.” Price says. “Satellite images have been promising and Russia has no troops in that region.”

“And they would have no reason to lie.” You say raising an eyebrow. You shrug when Price looks back at you. 

“Let’s move, we don’t want to lose them if we’re wrong.” He says gesturing for Johnny to drive. 

…

Price was right, they end up driving into what looks like an old cold war air base. Grass is peaking through the cracked concrete of the runway. The surrounding fence is rusted and collapsed in some places the buildings look rundown and barely functional but you all watch as one of the doors to one of the hangers open and the trucks drive in. 

Price orders Johnny to drive round to a forest about a kilometre away from the place and you all get out. 

“How can we be sure he’s there?” Gaz asks as he closes the boot of the car. 

“He’s there.” Price says confidently. 

“What about the others, The Butcher and Khaled?” You ask as you follow them through the trees. 

“No, they haven’t been spotted. This is a cold war era building though. Chances are there’s an underground tunnel system they’re hiding in.” Price says.

“That explains why we didn’t see many guards.” Ghost replies. 

“Right, besides I don’t think it’s going to be getting in that's the problem.” Price says. You let out a sigh, this feels too easy. It feels like you’re rushing, he’s in that building but like Price said there could be miles of tunnels hidden underneath. He could have a whole army in there just waiting. 

You follow them in silence listening to them talk strategies. The plan seems to be to go in as quietly as possible, cut the alarms, locate Makarov and take him out. Then confirm where the bombs and chemicals are so the US and Russia can come in and clear them up. 

It was a plan, not one you’re particularly happy with but it’s a plan nonetheless. 

“Gaz, Soap. You get in to see if you can find a maintenance room of some kind. Something we can use to tap into their systems.” He hands them the laptop. Gaz takes it then they start making their way down to the building. 

You’re all hidden behind something you think was once a barn but now there's a tree growing out of it and it's collapsed on one side. Ghost has binoculars looking around the place, the sun is out and the sky is clear which is way better than the thunderstorm from last night. 

“Place is quiet. I don’t like it.” Ghost says after a few seconds. 

“Makes our job easier.” Price says. You straighten up when you see the doors of the hanger open again. 

“Eye’s up Ghost.” 

“I see.” He replies. You squint trying to get a better look, you can’t see anything really from this distance, you wonder if Soap and Gaz are having any better look. 

“Shit. That’s Makarov.” Ghost says handing the binoculars over to Price. He brings them up to his eyes. You see a smile on his lips. 

“Got you now fucker.” You hear him whisper under his breath as he takes the binoculars down and hands them over to Ghost. 

“Update Soap and Gaz. I’ll get Laswell in the loop.” He says before turning to walk away. 

“Soap, Gaz. Makarov is heading into the main building.” 

“Copy.” You hear Gaz call back. “How’s our way in looking?”

“You’re clear. Watch yourselves.” 

“Always.” Soap replies. You turn behind you to see Price talking on a phone. You try to look for them but you can’t see them at all. You watch as Makarov makes it into the building with his entourage. 

“We’re in, making our way to the building now.” Gaz says. 

“Copy, watch your step, we have no intel you’re going in blind.”

“Copy, won’t be blind for long though.” Gaz whispers. You’re holding your breath, your palms have gone sweaty. You’re nervous, you want to be with them, helping them. What if they get hurt? They know what they’re doing, they’ve been trained for this. 

“How’re we looking?” Price asks as he comes back standing next to you. 

“We’re in, looking for a maintenance room.” Soap whispers as if on cue. 

“Good. Let us know when you have access then we’ll move.” Price says. It feels like you’re waiting forever, the seconds feel like minutes, you find yourself constantly checking your watch. 

“Nervous?” Price asks. You look over at him and smile. 

“Never.” He smiles back nodding his head.

“We’re in. Looks like Makarov is sitting pretty at the top of the ATC. Can you get a visual Ghost?” You all look up at the tower, you can’t see anything from here. 

“Copy. I see him.” Ghost says after a few seconds.

“We can override the security and lock him in there?” Gaz asks.

“Good, do it. Any signs of tunnels?” Price asks. 

“Nothing, everything seems to be above ground.” Gaz responds, you look over at Price. It feels too easy. 

“How many inside?” 

“A few dozen, 30. Maybe 40.” Soap says.

“Civilians?” 

“Negative.” 

“Stay put, we're coming to you.” Price says tapping Ghost on the shoulder.   

It doesn’t take you long to make it to the part of the wall Soap and Gaz made it though. Ghost and Price are faster than they are. More sure in their movements, they handle their weapons in a way you’ve never seen before, its second nature to them. You all slip through a side door and walk into a dimly lit corridor. 

“Were in.” Price says. You see Soap stick his head round a corner with his weapon drawn before lowering it. You all walk over to him seeing Gaz kneeled down next to the laptop hooked up to what you assume is some kind of server. 

“Gaz, stay here. Guide us, we’ll clear floor by floor. Make sure Makarov doesn't try anything. He’s not getting away this time.” Price says. Gaz nods and the rest of you make it out the room closing the door behind you. 

“Which way Gaz?” Price asks as you all stand there looking to him for direction. 

“Door to the left will take you through to the main entrance, then right through the double doors will take you into the mess.” Gaz says. “You’re looking at about 15-20 people.” You swallow hard. That’s a lot.

“Are you sure we can take that many people at once?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Soap chuckles and you feel embarrassed. 

“We’ve dealt with worse odds. Besides, we have an advantage.” Price says. You frown, shaking your head at him. 

“They don’t know we’re here.” Price says, clicking the safely off his weapon and turning to the left. 

He was right again. Surprising them was a big advantage. Gaz was good at calling out hazards too. You knew where they were before they could even find you. It felt clinical, maybe you’re used to it now, all the killing. It’s not hard when you’ve done it a few times. 

You don’t think about it, you just shoot, shoot them or they will shoot you. You don’t think about if they have a life outside of this. They’re the enemy, they’re making bombs and chemicals to hurt actual innocent people.  

“Mess and kitchen are clear. You’ve got people coming from the west side of the building.” Gaz says. You all get into position before the first few soldiers manage to get shots off. You have to duck under a table slipping on something and fall on your ass. 

You hear Soap chuckle coming over to you and grab your arm pulling you up. 

“Change your mag, I'll cover you.” He says. You nod, pulling the almost empty one out and pressing a new one in. The firing has stopped by the time you’re ready to fire again. You look over at the pile of bodies in the doorway. The room stinks of blood and gunpowder. 

You don’t think that is something you can ever get used to. 

“Looks like you’re clear.” The last few soldiers are with Makarov. I would hurry if I was you. I had to trigger a security lockdown so they couldn’t leave the ATC tower. He’s trying to override it. I don’t know how long you have.” Gaz explains. 

“Copy, we’re moving.” Price says already jogging out the room. When you make it back outside the building you see people coming out of the hangar towards you. 

“Go we’ll hold them off!” Soap shouts grabbing your arm to stop you. You nod at him and watch as Ghost and Price run off towards the ATC tower. You fire off shots with Soap, some are hitting, your adrenaline is pumping and your hands are sweaty. 

He grabs your arm pulling you to cover behind a roadblock. Now it’s your turn to cover him so he can reload. You look over the block and fire off shots trying your best to make them land. You can’t tell if you’re getting better or not. The last one falls as he gets back up. 

“C’mon let's catch up with the others. You watch our six, yeah?” You nod and follow him up the winding stairs of the tower. 

You hear an explosion. You both freeze for a second, your eyes meeting before you’re sprinting up the stairs. It takes the wind out of you sprinting up the steps trying to keep up with Soap. By the time you make it to the top you have to brace your hands on your knees and take in lungfuls of air. 

When you look back up Soap has gone, the doors to the control room are open. You walk in hearing voices. 

“You think you can stop us all Captain?” That has to be Makarov, his thick Russian accent cutting through the air. 

“Maybe not. But we’re going to give it a damn good try.” You hear Price say as a shot is fired. You make it round the control panel just in time to see his body flop to the ground. 

“Gaz, target down. Where’s the control room in this place?” Price asks as he turns, your eyes meet. There’s something different in them now, you quickly look back down at the body. His eyes look dark, focused. This was personal, you swallow hard, your throat feeling suddenly dry. 

“Main building second floor.” Gaz says. You’re already turning to move back down the stairs before them. You feel a shiver up your spine. They got Makarov, they’ve got the weapons, now all they need to do is get the Americans and Russians in here to clear the place out. 

It felt weird, like something had changed between you all. Well something had changed, they’ve completed their mission. You feel a shiver run up your spine remembering the cold look in Price’s eyes. 

It’s not even over yet Jamal and Khaled, they're both still out there, they’re both probably involved in continuing Makarovs work. He was right, they can’t stop them all.

You make it to the control room first Gaz is leaned over a laptop. The room looks out of place almost like they just slammed a concrete box down in the middle of the building, maybe they did. You had to walk through a set of metal sliding doors to get in. 

“Where are the others?” he asks looking over your shoulder, you turn to see no one following you.

“They must have got turned around.” You say. 

“I’ll go get them, stay here.” he says. You nod, swinging the weapon off your shoulder and putting it on one of the tables. You hear them before you see them, they must have not been that far behind. You walk over to the door to meet up with them. It slides shut and you step back for a second then step up again. Nothing changes, you frown looking up at the sensor waking your hand. 

You sigh, maybe it can only be opened from the other side, you can see them walk into the little room you can only describe as an airlock. This building really is as old as the cold war. When they make it to the door it doesn’t budge. 

They look at you confused. 

“I don’t know.” You say reaching over to press the red emergency open button, it doesn’t do anything. Suddenly you hear a hiss and a clank, they all turn watching the door behind them slide closed and lock. 

An alarm rings out. They look at Gaz who looks down at the laptop, you can see him furiously clicking on the keyboard.  

“The whole system’s gone into lockdown.” He says, you see panic on his face. Fuck. Price looks back at you. 

“Did you touch anything?” He asks. 

“No of course not!” You shout back defensively. Suddenly there’s another hissing, this wasn't like the one in their room. This one sounds different. You look up trying to place it. 

“What’s happening?” Price asks. You look round, it’s the vents, a few seconds later a thick smoke starts to seep out of them. It almost immediately makes you gag and cough. You bring your arm hand up to block your nose and mouth. 

You look back at Price, now you can see panic on his face. 

Fuck.

Banners by plum98

[fuckitupfelix]

"no me mires con esos ojos"

valentines mini series >_• !

dick grayson x male reader

wc: 0.8k

the small, tender moments are what matters the most to dick. even the silly ones.

FEM ALIGNED DNI

no me mires con esos ojos — dont look at me with those eyes

dick grayson likes the simple days with his lover. he finds great comfort in knowing that after every patrol, no matter how battered and bruised he gets, he can come home to a familiar face in his apartment; and it won't just be a furry one. there's no need for any explanations, lies, or excuses. his boyfriend understands. he always did.

so when the door of their shared apartment swings open to reveal dick in his nightwing suit, the fabric around his chest and shoulders torn, he's met not with anger or a loud outburst of concern, but with a frown, furrowed eyebrows, and a gentle kiss on the cheek. the warm smell of food wafts over from the kitchen.

"what's for dinner?" dick asks, shutting the door behind him. his eyes follow (name's) hand as it cups his cheek, and he leans into the touch, shutting his eyes— just for a moment— and feeling a bit more at peace.

"i got some frozen soup dumplings on sale the other day. they're cooking on the stove for another ten minutes or so," (name) hums his reply. his gaze falls to the torn bits of dick's suit. "do we need the medkit?" he asks, softer this time.

dick shakes his head, exhaling softly. he brings a hand up to cover his boyfriend's, giving it a small squeeze.

"i just got thrown around a bit. nothing's broken. promise," he breathes out a chuckle. his boyfriend cares, he really, truly, cares. eventually, dick opens his eyes, and is met with his lover's tender gaze.

"don't look at me with those eyes," dick laughs.

"i can't admire my boyfriend?" (name) jokes, but dick can see how the corners of his eyes crinkle a little more after that, the way his expression softens, the small curl at the corners of his lips.

dick leans over, closing the little distance there was between the two of them.

their lips press together gently, and (name's) small smile grows into a grin. he pulls his lover closer, his free hand reaching up to the back of dick's neck, his fingers curling around the hairs at the base of his neck. dick lets out a soft giggle at that. his hands drop to (name's) hips, thumbs gently rubbing along the fabric of his own t-shirt on his boyfriend's body. these tender moments make up for whatever kind of day dick has, regardless of how horrible or dreadful it seems to get.

te lo doy todo, ni modo — i give you everything, there's no other way

harsh flurries of snow whip at the faces of unsuspecting individuals in the streets, the wind picking up in sporadic bursts. what was supposed to be a pleasant, romantic day off ended up leaving the two stuck inside a walmart. dick was bundled up perfectly for the weather— a thick sweater underneath his parka, paired with the ugliest scarf, gloves, and hat he could find. at least he was warm.

(name), who had not checked the weather prior to leaving, was missing the unsightly accessories, and with the wind blasting round after round of snow into his poor face, had decided that an emergency shopping trip was in order.

"why do they only have kid's sizes?" (name) asks, holding up the tiniest green scarf he'd ever seen. "i'm not small enough to wear any of these."

"we could make it work?" dick hums, approaching (name) from behind and resting his head on his shoulder. from the corner of his eye, he can see the look his boyfriend give him. dick laughs.

"seriously?" (name) snorts. he gently jabs his elbow into dick's chest, mumbling something about how ridiculous he was being.

they both continued to make their way through section after section of the store, trying to find anything that (name) could wear. he felt bad; he was ruining his lover's plans for the day— the odd day off that he got, and they were spending it in a walmart. how romantic.

their search continued until something in particular caught (name's) eye. an all too familiar shade of blue on black wool, in a matching set of a scarf, hat and mitts. it was perfect.

"babe," dick turns around to be met with his boyfriend wrapped up in nightwing merchandise. the signature bird logo wrapped around the entirety of the beanie, as well as on the outside of both of the mitts, all while (name) sports a huge grin.

"wh— where did you find that?" dick manages to say after a small fit of laughter. he's grinning so hard he can feel his cheeks start to ache. "you actually wanna get these?"

his lover nods, and dick knows it's stupid, but he swears his heart skips a beat;

"of course i do. nightwing's my favourite for a reason."

slow buildup to valentines day ,, this is how im coping with the fact that im still single </3

[esamastation]

Gamer girl gets transmigrated into a farm boy Chapter 5 [<<Prologue | <Chapter 4 || Chapter 6>>] Ao3 link

-

The rest of the day goes by much the same way it did in the game. They make their way back to the farm, where Van helps Mr. Gylcross unload his purchases and carry some of them to the barn and the rest into the house. Janelle welcomes them with a warm meal and freshly made batch of apple juice, made from, "Apples I picked myself just this afternoon!" as she says. It's delicious.

"What did you buy in town?" Josel asks as they eat.

"Nothing much," Van answers, and ain't that the truth. "Mostly I just looked around, took in the sights."

Josel hums. "Yeah, you haven't been to the town a lot, have you?"

"I guess not," Van agrees, thinking back to the player character's messy background as a hand on the Gylcross farm, and how it might be revealed here - if it even was.

"How did you like it? Did you see anything interesting in town?" Janelle asks curiously.

"It was fine. It was all pretty interesting," Van admits and takes a bite of bread, wondering if she made it herself.

The System journal had updated while he'd been in town, and going by its writing, it was the most amazing thing ever to happen to Katie. Most of the journal entry was her detailing every event that happened, but there were some interesting titbits in between, which Van had noticed but not really thought about at the time.

… Oh my god, the town looks exactly like it did in the game! Only now I'm seeing it all in first person! It's so wild. There's so much more people here than there were in the game, too - probably since the limits of rendering capacity have been thrown out of the window. Real world isn't held back by RAM. Hah.

Also? Kids. There are children here - and not just one-age-fits-all like in some games, no, there's older teenagers and younger teenagers, and I also saw a toddler in the marketplace - and I think one woman had a baby in a sling? A baby! Definitely didn't have any of those in the base game - not a single kid to be had in all of Age of Tales, except in pre-rendered cutscenes. I wonder if it's just for humans, or will we get to see dwarf or elf babies - I've never seen a dwarf baby, ever, in anything I've ever seen or played. Probably not elf either, unless it was like a half-human-half-elf situation brought forth by an illicit cross-species love story.

I wonder if Van can have babies - like, conceive them? I mean, there's romance in Age of Tales, such as it is. There's sex scenes and stuff. Can those now have, like, consequences? Does this world have contraceptives? Is that something that I have to now think about?

Van with a baby would be pretty cute, though. I wonder if I can somehow get him to hold a baby…

And that's where Van had to stop reading in order to preserve the delicate equilibrium of his mental stability.

"There were a lot of people in town," he concludes with a cough to clear his throat, and takes another sip of the apple juice.

Janelle gives him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, it's a bit different from how it's around here, huh?" she says and pats him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you had fun."

"Yeah," Van agrees.

By now he's kind of starting to feel the limits of Katie's social meter, though. She'd never been a particularly extroverted person, and while it's different inside a videogame… this isn't a game, not really. It's been a whole day of interacting with people and trying to figure things out, and Van is feeling mentally kind of worn down.

Plus, he's got an existential crisis scheduled up, and it's starting to feel kind of urgent.

"You mind if I turn in for the day, sir?" Van asks once he's done eating, turning to Mr. Gylcross. "I'm kind of tired."

"Of course, my boy. Just get Bell settled in for the night and get the cart in the barn," Mr. Gylcross says.

Thankfully, Josel has apparently done all other farm-related duties off screen. All Van has left to do is get the cart inside and Bell brushed up, fed, and settled in a stall, all of which happens by automation. Josel, who's got a more permanent berth in a little hutch next to the farmhouse, bids Van good night, and with some relief Van heads up to the hayloft.

There he lays down in the hay, mentally preparing to Think About Things and Handle Them… only to find his mind full of static. He needs to deal with the Realisation and he needs to come up with a plan for tomorrow, because there's a lot coming his way tomorrow.

And yet, even though he lies there for a while, staring at the ceiling, not a single coherent plan comes to mind.

Finally, Van gets up again and goes back down to get a bucket of water. It's not quite as good as a real mirror, but in a pinch…

His reflection is very faint on the water's surface, but he can just about see himself and make out his features. The caramel ice-cream hair is really not looking its best. It's curly in the game, kind of fabulous in a way that doesn't fit Van's body type at all - here it sticks every which way, unkempt and not exactly flattering.

No permanent magical hairstyling in real life, huh.

Combing his fingers through his hair to push it away from his face, Van turns his head this way and that, taking in his features again. The jaw, the cheekbones, the forehead - he really looks like he was drawn by a comic book artist. Except made real. 

He's really - Katie is really in Van's body. This is Van, made flesh and blood. Well, he doesn't actually know if the body can bleed, but it probably does. It gets hungry and thirsty. And, judging by the feel of things right now, it also needs to relieve itself. Which is… another thing he hadn't been thinking about.

Sitting on his knees for a moment, Van weighs the oncoming mental health crisis against probably mortifying body function weirdness and chooses the latter, standing up. Time for a true fantasy adventure - figuring out how men piss.

Delightful.

Though as a man he should be able to go wherever - so long as he wasn't flashing someone, anyway - seeing as this is the first time and Katie only sort of knows what she's doing… yeah, some privacy is called for. There's a wooden outhouse behind the farmhouse, which Van slinks his way to like he's doing something wrong and illicit. The outhouse is pretty small and forces him to bend over, and it's overall very awkward. It stinks. The seat is tiny and looks kind of uncomfortable to actually sit on.

Katie has a feeling she's going to miss Earth's modern day plumbing before long.

Right now she has other concerns, though.

Van takes a deep breath - and then regrets it, because of the outhouse smell - before looking down. The trousers are easy enough to figure out, they're basically normal trousers except fastened with a string instead of zipper. The underwear, not so much. While Katie has seen it before and actually spent quite a bit of time trying to figure it out, seeing it on Van now…

It's a kind of cloth wrap thing, like the whole thing is one long stretch of fabric wrapped around the waist and down. The final effect is not unlike briefs, and it's actually kind of comfortable and it definitely keeps everything contained… but if Van takes it off, he will definitely not be able to put it back on again.

Hm, maybe he can, sort of… move it aside…?

Touching it is a bit weird. Katie does a little gibbering flailing thing in the back of his mind while Van tugs at the fabric, feeling all the stuff beneath shift - feeling all the stuff feel the movement. It's weird - having sensations in bits Katie never had before. 

Kind of cool though, too. In a sort of unreal way.

Van gets his fingers beneath to pull his penis out and then… there it is, sticking out past the cloth, with its two buddies still nestled in the wrapping.

It would probably be inappropriate to call it a tool. It kind of fits, though. It's very… proportional. 

And Katie is suddenly very aware of her long stint as a single woman, because damn. Like, she's never been that into the look or size of a guy's dick - a penis is a penis, they're all kind of the same in the end - but damn. Van has one hell of a dick. Like, Katie probably wouldn't want to have sex with Van, because ouch… but damn.

"Okay, don't play with it, just do your business," Van mutters, thinking back to Katie's stint in the kindergarten and wincing at the memory of potty training. As extremely unsexy thought as there ever was, he thinks with a grimace and then attempts to… manoeuvre himself into position. "Just point and aim."

It's weird, and very… fleshy. But at least the rest of the operation is roughly the same for a man as it is for a woman - bladder is a bladder, apparently. It's still weird - as is not needing to wipe afterwards. It doesn't feel like it's enough, to just shake it. Not that there's anything to wipe with in the outhouse.

"Weird, weird, this is so weird," Van mutters, shaking himself and then quickly tucking the weapon away.

There's nowhere to wash his hands afterwards.

"Great," he mutters and then slinks back to the barn where he sleeps at night. His mirror water turns into hand washing water, and he still feels a bit dirty afterwards. He's hyperaware of what's going down below the belt, all of a sudden. Also, maybe getting a bit hard? Is it really that damn easy to get riled up as a man? Van's not even thinking of anything sexy, and apparently it's going up on its own. What the hell?

Climbing up to the hayloft, Van lies down and tries to not think about his dick. He's got an existential crisis on his hands. Woman stuck in a man's body here. This is no time for any kind of self-inflicted fun times. He needs to experience the horrors of being not in a body of his own. Her own. Whatever. Body dysmorphia, here we go!

Yeah, no, apparently not. His mind keeps slipping downwards along with the blood pooling there, as though the damn thing has a gravity of its own. He can feel his penis straining his underwear - taking it out, putting his hand around it, it would feel… probably pretty good right now. And it's not like Katie doesn't want to - like she hasn't been curious what it was like, how it would work. Porn and smut painted a pretty vivid image, of course, but nothing beats hands on experience.

Mmm, hands on…

Van stares at the ceiling for a long moment, biting his lip. There's no one in this end of the barn but him. The Gylcrosses are in their house, Josel is off in his little hutch… there's no one here. No one but him.

… Right, okay. Fine.

With a grunt Van gets up to find a rag or something.

It would clear his head too, probably, if all the post nut clarity memes are to be believed. He would have his existential crisis with a clear mind afterwards.

-

Katie wakes up the next morning to the cock crowing somewhere outside and has a moment of flailing confusion at the feel of all the hay around her and sight of the wooden ceiling and beams above her head… before everything comes back.

Right. She's still here. She's transmigrated into Van and to the very start of Age of Tales. And it's now day two.

"Shit," Van murmurs, running a hand down his face. His chin feels bristly - apparently that's a yes on the needing to shave going forward, if he wants to keep Van's chiselled chin in view. Which is probably not all that important, considering that, well…

Tonight, the plot would finally kick off in earnest.

Breathing in and out for a moment, Van lets his arm drop to his side. He hadn't even thought of what he would do, beyond the usual. Even with all the dramatic consequences, the Rift opening was still part of the tutorial, and so all the enemies were pretty low level. The character was meant to run, of course - at this point there was not much they were supposed to be able to do against them.

Emphasis on the supposed. This is, however, Age of Tales.

The whole tutorial section is a bit… Well, overall, Katie gets it - the whole point of the tutorial section is to paint the illusion of peaceful normalcy and introduce the player to the base mechanics and the NPC shops before the plot can kick off and burn the whole idyllic place to the ground for shock value. The first time Katie went through it, it was pretty epic, overall.

But giving the players the chance to shop before the fight was kind of dumb.

Because, while the game didn't get that popular, it had some players, and just about everyone who did play it went about the tutorial the same way. They gambled for cash and kitted themselves out as best they could as soon as they could… and in so doing, turned the whole Rift thing into a bit of a joke by actually standing up against the invasion, something they plot-wise weren't supposed to be able to do. And most of them didn't even realise it, breaking the game completely by accident.

And when you went about it perfectly intentionally, well… the Rift stopped being a threat at all and became the perfect spawn kill camp.

That was what Van had been planning to do - until reality nerfed Katie's money-making tricks.

"System, open inventory," Van calls.

[Inventory] [Simple Knife, lvl. 1] [Shepherd's Slingshot, lvl. 1] [14 x Basic Stone Ammunition ] [3 x Spearhead] [1 x Apple] [Empty Jug] [Dirty Rag]

Yeah, not exactly winning starter gear, especially considering that he still doesn't have a single shred of proper armour. He hasn't been this poorly prepared for the Rift since the very first playthrough - and even then he at least had some armour and a sword! Reality is really kicking his ass this time.

He can't figure out if it's frustrating or exciting. Probably the first one.

"Guess I'm making some spears," Van muses and then sits up with a grunt. Finger-combing the hay out of his hair, Van eyes the dirty rag and then winces. He would need to get rid of it, and maybe he could wash up somewhere before getting started. Unfortunately, he doesn't think there's a washroom or anything around here…

[Farm Chores, Lvl. 1.] [It's a new day on Gylcross farm, and it's time to get to work!]

[Farm Chores 1, Lvl. 1.] [Let the chickens out.] [Let the goats out.] [Let the cows out.] [Let Bell out.] [Quest reward:  10 exp, 3 Apples.] [Farm Chores 2, Lvl. 1.] [Muck the pens and stalls.] [Quest reward:  10 exp, 5 Fresh Eggs.] [Farm Chores 3, Lvl. 1.] [Take a look at the garden and weed Ms. Janelle's vegetable beds.] [Quest reward:  10 exp, 4 x Mixed Herbs] [Farm Chores 4, Lvl. 1.] [Milk the goats and the cows.] [Quest reward:  2 exp, 1 Bottle of Milk.] [Accept?] [Yes.] [No.]

Van winces a little at the sudden bombardment of pop-ups. Looks like he has some work to do. How much it all will matter when this time tomorrow the farm will be in ruins aside… exp is exp. And if he could squeeze in another level up before the Rift, it definitely wouldn't hurt.

Standing up - and bending over to duck below the ceiling beams - Van shuffles to the ladder to start the day with a quick rinse in a bucket of cold water.

By the time he heads out of the barn, Janelle has breakfast ready and set in front of the farmhouse. "Good morning, Van!" she calls, waving. "Come have some eggs and pancakes!"

Josel is already there and already stuffing his face with eggs. "Good morning," Van greets them both and then asks, interestedly, "Pancakes?"

"Yeah - Daddy bought flour and sugar yesterday!" Janelle says excitedly. "We've got some honey too - come here and try it."

Van does, sitting down beside Josel, accepting his share with a, "Thank you, miss." It looks great, and it smells even better.

"It's Janelle," the farmer's daughter says firmly and sits down across from him.

The breakfast is great, as are the pancakes. Mr. Gylcross doesn't make an appearance, but no one comments on it, and so Van doesn't either - maybe the man sleeps in when it's not a market day, or something. After they're done eating, Josel helps Janelle clear out the table, while Van considers his quests.

"Are you going to let the animals out?" Janelle asks, wiping her hands in her apron. "I'll come with you - I'll collect the eggs while I'm at it."

"Sure," Van agrees and offers Josel an apologetic nod before following Janelle towards the chicken coops.

It's a perfectly pleasant day, with only a few fluffy clouds in the sky and just the barest hint of a breeze in the air. The sort of day when nothing bad is supposed to happen, of course. Perfectly normal day.

"Daddy says you visited the tailor yesterday," Janelle comments. "That you ordered some kind of armour."

Van blinks and looks at her. "Uh, I didn't realise he knew about that," he says. The man hadn't mentioned it. How did he find out, anyway? "I did, yeah."

"Why?"

Well, there's going to be a battle in Westbrook the day after tomorrow, and then the place is going to be set on fire, and Valthor's most annoying minion is going to make a grand appearance. Van is really hoping to curbstomp that guy's smug little face to the ground, and armour would make that much, much easier. "Well," he says, because clearly he can't say any of that. "I don't know. Just felt like it, I guess?"

Janelle looks at him carefully, and asks, "Have you… remembered something?" she asks. "About your past?"

Van hesitates, because in the game the player character never remembers time before the farm - but he does learn about it from others. "No, not really," he says finally. "I just… have a feeling I'm going to need something. Actually," he adds and takes a spearhead out of the satchel. "I also got a few of these."

Janelle accepts the dull spearhead, tilting her head with confusion. "Is that a weapon?"

"Head of a spear - I'm going to find some pole to stick it on," Van says and shrugs. "And then I'll have a spear."

Janelle shakes her head, looking a little upset. "But what do you need a spear for?" she asks.

Van shrugs again. "I don't know. It just feels like something I should have."

Janelle hums unhappily, turning the spearhead in her hand. "So, I was right," she murmurs and looks at him sadly. "You are a soldier."

In the game you learn the main character's background in flashbacks and  hints from the designated Mentor character at Ulgor's Camp, but it's a pretty cliché dealio overall. The player character has amnesia - of course - and was left at the Gylcross farm by a Mysterious Hooded Person - of course - while the Mysterious Hooded Person ran away all suspicious-like. Janelle Gylcross eventually found the player character hiding in the barn hayloft, all confused and out of it and bleeding from the head. Through some interrogation and arguing with her father, Janelle got him settled in as a new farm hand.

It's all shown to the player in this grainy sepia cut scene, a collage of moments as the player character learns how to swing a hoe and milk the cows and stuff. It's pretty wholesome. And the fact that it's shown to you only after the farm has been burned down and everyone there was killed, well… Katie has some issues with the arrangement of narrative there, but it was kind of a punch to the gut, the first time she played the game.

Also absolutely hilarious, watching this brick shithouse of a man do these cute farm chores, like carrying baby lambs around, delicately harvesting berries from the bushes and weeding garden beds.

"I'm not a soldier," Van says and accepts the spearhead back. "I just feel like it'll be better to be prepared than not."

"Right," Janelle says and hugs herself, looking uncomfortable. "Are you going to leave the farm? I know Daddy only contracted you until the harvest, but… I thought you liked it here."

"Well… it is nice," Van says. And it really is. He looks at the farmstead around them and hums thoughtfully. It's very peaceful and idyllic and wholesome. In the game it's often implied how much the player character wishes he could've stayed there, wishes none of the terrible things that followed wouldn't have happened, and the world could've stayed as it was.

More than another day of it and Katie would be climbing the walls, bored out of his mind.

"I guess we'll see," Van says and smiles at Janelle. "You never know what will happen."

-

[<<Prologue | <Chapter 4 || Chapter 6>>] Proofread by @nimadge, many thanks

-

I call this the Tool Inspection Chapter. And I hope it made at least one person laugh as much as it made me to write it.

[celticcrossanon]

Will you be doing a reading on how Harry feels about Prince Louis? I'd be interested to see it in comparison to how he feels about Prince George and Princess Charlotte. Prince Louis looks like Princess Catherine and he always steals the show when he's with the rest of the family at an event. Harry probably thinks all the attention Prince Louis gets should be his, he admitted in the past his time was limited before Prince William's children got all the attention but I think he's surprised it happened so soon.

Harry's desire to displace Prince William's children is expected, his very negative and troubling feelings seem to mirror those he has about Prince William. He didn't bother to hide his envy and jealousy in the past and rather than work on becoming a better person he's festered into an even worse one.

Harry and Meghan seem fixated on how their children look, "they look like Spencers", "blue, blue, blue eyes", "long thick hair" etc. I suspect Harry and Meghan wish their children looked liked Prince George and Princess Charlotte. Prince George is the most Spencer looking and Princess Charlotte looks very much like her father who looks very much like Princess Diana. It makes me think the appearances of Prince George and Princess Charlotte have made Harry's feeling become nastier and can only be described as wicked.

Your readings make me think of evil characters in fairy tales. Harry wants some misfortune to take place and he'd be happy if Prince William's children were no longer here. He's cast himself and his family out but wants to destroy the happy and beautiful royal family that exists which he feels should be him and his family.

Meghan has always disliked Prince Louis, her past habit of putting out PR on his birthday showed that. I suspect it's because he was born in 2018 and stole the limelight from her. I do wonder if his similarity to Princess Catherine is something that makes Harry and Meghan feel more negatively towards him as they're both obsessed in their own ways with Princess Catherine.

Have you considered doing readings on how Meghan feels about the Wales children? It's probably the same as Harry but I wonder if their inner feelings match.

Thanks for doing these readings, it can't be fun and even though they're not surprising they are disappointing. If your readings were about any other family member I'd be shocked and think them outrageous but for Harry it's not only believable but not at all shocking.

Hi Nonny,

You are welcome for the readings.

Harry and Prince Louis is the next reading on the list. I'm planning to do that one tonight when the household is asleep and I have my quiet time.

I hadn't thought of doing Meghan and the children but I will now, just to see what comes up. I expect more animosity from her than from Harry, but we shall see.

I think Harry's animosity towards his brother's children is driven by a number of things - their looks, yes, but also the press comments on their looks and the press attention they get, as well as how well behaved and sweet they are (nothing negative to spin into a horrible narrative) and I suspect the animosity towards his brother would spill over on the children whatever they were like.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader x Jay Halstead/ Gerstead x Reader

How Greg became Mouse (in this verse anyways 🤷‍♀️) how Jay figured out he loved Mouse and how they both figured out they wanted you

Part of the Consider Me Gone verse

The recon was supposed to be a simple enough mission. When the fuck was anything ever simple since the moment their boots had hit the dirt in this place? Now Jay, Greg, Athena, Marco and Collins were standing staring at the floor of the house they’d just breached where an explosive was blinking. The timer was counting down quickly and the area was crawling with civilians.

“They had to have sent a damn kid down there” Athena cursed, “A fucking tiny one” Marco added.  Greg cut his eyes at Jay then started stripping the outer layer of his gear off “Give me a kit” “Gerwitz you can’t fit in there” Collins tried to reason but the other man shrugged “Either I fucking try or we’re facing getting blown sky high or a fucking court marshal for leaving dozens of non combatants to get blown up. Do any of you want to face that?”

No one spoke up so he nodded, grabbing the kit out of Collin’s hand. “Now get your asses out of here and start clearing the area. Get as many out as you can just in case” 

Athena, Marco and Collins moved to do what he said but Jay remained rooted to the spot. “Greg just come with us, we can clear it out as much as we can. Show effort” Greg shrugged, glancing back at the tunnel leading down into the floor “Fuck it, looks like fun. Why Halstead, you worried about me?” a smirk slipping onto his face “Fuck yes” Jay replied quickly. Greg grinned “I’ll be fine. Just go. NOW” Jay took a deep breath then nodded “If you die I’ll fucking kill you” Greg grinned at him “See ya on the other side in that case”

Jay moved out of the house, joining Athena in clearing civilians, all the time counting off the time that was left on that timer in his head. He kept looking at the house. “Come on, come on” he muttered under his breath. The fear of something happening to Greg hitting him dead in the stomach. He stopped in his tracks. Should he be this worried about a friend? 

“Thirty seconds” Marco called and Jay found himself holding his breath as they cleared the blast radius only to see the front door of the house open and Greg come walking out, carrying the disabled explosive in his hands. “How in the fuck did he manage that?” Athena asked and Collins shook his head, laughter bubbling out of the man “He’s a goddamn Mouse, if he can get his head in his body is fitting” Jay heard the rest of the unit joining in, deciding that Mouse would officially be Greg’s new nickname but he could’ve gave a damn less because his breath finally came rushing back into his lungs as those sky blue eyes got close enough he could see them.

“Miss me?” He asked and Jay shook his head “Fuck you for scaring me Mouse” Greg smirked “Mouse huh?” Collins laughed “Shortest one out of the unit but the one to go through the most shit and walk out the other side, surviving the craziest shit and that?” he pointed towards the still standing house “Was the craziest shit I have seen Gerwitz”

Jay kept staring at him. He loved him, like LOVED him. Fuck, was he gay? He thought about..no definitely still attracted to women but that didn’t change the fact that during those few moments when he didn’t know rather or not Mouse was walking back out to him he felt like a damn humvee was sitting on his chest. Fuck it, didn’t change anything. Maybe him and Mouse needed to have a talk when they got a spare minute to themselves but beyond that nothing was any different besides he now knew without a doubt he fucking loved Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz.

A couple months passed and Mouse was the normal to be heard over Greg or even Gerwitz most days unless it was a C.O. talking.

“Dare ya” Jay heard Marco whisper when they were on their way into a briefing. He cut his eyes at Mouse “What are you doing?” Mouse shrugged with a grin that told him he was indeed doing something.  The briefing was to introduce the newest medic to their unit. There was no doubt they wouldn’t last long before begging for a transfer. No one lasted long.

They took their place against the wall, leaning back as their C.O. started to talk and that was when Jay heard it. The distinctive sound of a mouse. He cut his eyes at his Mouse who had a smirk on his face. 

“What the hell was that?” Officer Henrikson asked and Marco shrugged “I saw a mouse in the showers the other day” Henrikson raised an eyebrow looking at Athena “Is this true?” She nodded, biting her lip slightly “Yes sir”

Jay couldn’t believe this shit. His damn unit was backing the stupidity. Henrikson shook his head “If that keeps on we’ll have to do something about that. Can’t have supplies being torn into. Anyways” 

___________________

The flap at the front of the tent opened and a woman walked in. Jay and Mouse turned at the same time and Jay saw when Mouse’s eyes widened and knew his own was just as bad. She was fucking gorgeous. Not in an over the top way but still beautiful. The way she held herself as she walked up to Henrikson and shook his hand. He nodded to her then turned towards them “This is Y/N. Your new combat medic. Be welcoming because she’s gonna keep your sorry asses alive”

She smiled “Well after that rousing introduction guess there’s nothing more for me to say is there?” Athena went for her first “Thank god, you’re a woman!” Y/N laughed “Guessing I’ll be bunking with you?” Henrikson nodded “Show her where your tent is and the medic tent will ya?”

Jay and Mouse watched you walk out with Athena and couldn’t help but let their eyes track you.  

“Jay” Mouse spoke low, half asleep on his cot and wasn’t sure if Jay was even still awake or not until Jay rolled over to face him “Yeah?” 

Mouse didn’t want to have this conversation but from the moment you’d gotten here the attraction he’d felt towards you had gotten worse and it had only been a couple weeks. “Y/N” Jay raised an eyebrow at your name “What about her?” 

Mouse took a deep breath, trying to find the courage to tell his sorta boyfriend/ man he loved that he was developing feelings for someone else. He still felt the same for Jay that was why his feelings for you were so damn confusing. “I think I like her” “Like how?” Jay asked, leaning up on his arm. “Like I like her” 

Jay got quiet for a moment and Mouse expected a lot of reactions but not for a broad grin to spread across Jay’s face. “Good” “Good?” he asked in shock and Jay shrugged “Makes it so much less awkward to tell you I think I like her too” Mouse laughed in shock “Do we both want her?” Jay nodded, “Question is, would she want us?” 

Mouse shrugged “She flirts with us” Jay shook his head “She talks that way to Athena too” Mouse sighed “I think she likes us at least a little bit” Jay grinned “If we’re going for this we’re agreeing that we’re both going for this. We still want each other, we just want her too” 

“Of course I still want you Jay, me wanting her doesn’t change that” Mouse assured him so he grinned “Good because I still want your crazy ass too. Now, how the hell do we get our girl?”

The answer to their question on if you liked them came in the form of you lying directly to Officer Henrikson’s face without a second thought. 

It was another briefing. Normally they stood side by side but this time they’d managed to maneuver you between them. When Henrikson started talking Jay heard Mouse make the same damn mouse noise and saw Henrikson’s face twist in anger “I swear if one of you jackasses are doing that” 

“Sir, we had mice in the med tent just yesterday. I assure you these jackasses are responsible for a lot but not that” you spoke and Henrikson’s eyes landed on you, the line between his eyebrows smoothing “Ok then. I’ll see about getting some form of pest control. Thank you Y/N” you nodded “Yes sir”

__________________

Once the briefing was dismissed Jay clocked you pulling Marco and Collins to the side and heard you tell them both “Don’t you dare tell anyone it’s him. It’s funny to see Henrikson lose his shit over imaginary mice” and heard both men laugh “We won’t” 

He stopped Mouse with a hand on his chest and nodded towards you. After Marco and Collins walked off with Athena you walked over to the two of them. “You’ve got maybe another three briefings to screw with him. You’re welcome”

Mouse grinned at you “Why’d you cover for me?” you shrugged “It was funny, a bit of amusement in this place is worth lying to that jackass. Besides maybe I don’t want to see you or Halstead get in trouble over stupid shit” and winked at Jay before walking off. 

Mouse watched you go then cut his eyes back at Jay “So we agree that whatever we have to do to keep her..” “Oh we’re doing whatever we have to do” Jay cut him off with a laugh.

@desimarie12

[bromcommie]

so I was digging through the Vast Legally Grey Junkyards of the Internet in search of better quality footage from AoU for my edits, specifically the scene with the CA FASCIST grafitti in Sokovia—which I unfortunately didn't find, but what I DID find was a bunch of deleted/expanded scenes that I didn't know/didn't care enough to pay attention to before. Which is fine. Most of it is techno babble and rushed plot setup. However. This stupid-ass ten second clip makes me literally insane. It makes me. Want to kill and maim and chew on the bars of my enclosure. And not in the sense that the contents make me oh-so-emotional, but because the potential of them could. Because what do you mean.

What do you mean those four and a half lines were cut for pacing/time when it's a ten second difference and the rest of the scene is in the film anyway. What do you mean you cut it because it didn't fit the narrative. It's literally couched in two minutes of plot it could've been so easy to slip it in there. A passing reference that would add at least a smidgen of depth to both the (already fucking incomprehensible) plot + politics of the antagonists, and to one of the main fucking characters. Like you were SO close what do you mean you cut every feeble attempt that was made to scratch the surface of Steve's character outside the whole nightmare scene we're supposed to feel so bad about what do you MEAN.

The fact that this minimal exchange—paired with that graffiti scene where Steve is confronted with the actual legacy of Captain America and what he's come to mean to people around the world and then quite physically discards the identity + him still circling back to the mantle at the end of the film anyway because he doesn't know how to do or be anything else, feels like he's too changed for this idea of a normal life that stems from before the war and the ice and doesn't know how to live without carrying that, without being useful in this one specific way—has more meat on its bones in the whole lead up to Civil War and ultimately Endgame than half of this movie's sledgehammer-over-the-head lines about home and family with Barton's kids laughing in the background or whatever like some fucked up C list hallmark movie is downright infuriating to me because like. You clearly thought about it. It passed through your head. You wrote some version of it into the scene. You shot it and edited it and watched it a few times and then you went "nah off it goes to the cutting room floor, we have enough of that. Add those seven and a half seconds to the 20-minute long, entirely CGI Hulk sequence, that we need more of. Surely that will fix the pacing issue".

Side note: this is me not even getting into the fact that, at this point in the franchise, this would have been one of the few lines we'd get of Maria actually saying something or interacting with anyone in a way that is even marginally removed (which this barely is) from simply delivering plot information. This is the only time we kinda get her view on something or even an inkling that she used to be a goddamn intelligence agent. And how that history informs her view of the situation and how it could possibly clash with Steve's own. And that woman is in every fucking movie. (Not to mention the fact that the two of them were just in a movie together, for Christ's sake, and going through something together you could pretty fairly characterize as traumatic and bond-inspiring to boot—and in AoU we can barely tell they even know each other. I mean the bar is so low and they still managed to limbo right under it.)

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

home from work

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills

[itsalwaysdark]

its so embarassing likee. going to talk abt a feeling you have but you already know ppl will be like Oh that sounds like depression lol and its like. well yes . i know . trust me i am so aware i am depressed . but its still like a thing ive been thinking abt and wanting to talk abt but ik itll just be like Ok hun 👍. idk idk what response i would want tho ig FNFNFNF

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.