#carrie x konnie

[glorioustragedykid]

As tradition here on my blog,

FELIZ DIA DOS NAMORADOS ♥︎

Based on this old drawing

[rippeanuts1950-2000]

i hate u, i love u

Prev|Next

Chapter 2)

“YOU DID WHAT!?”

Laney winces at how loud Konnie is shouting. “I made a bet with Corey.” She repeats. It’s just her and Konnie at the lunch table as Kim is in the science labs checking her experiment with Carrie, and Larry just doesn’t have this lunch period. “Okay, but why?” Konnie stresses as she picks up her grilled cheese sandwich from her lunch tray. “If you guys win the battle of the bands, he leaves me alone.” Laney explains with a shrug as she digs around in her backpack for her lunch box. She finally finds it and pulls out a bag of chips. “But if we lose?” Laney deflates a little. “I have to rejoin Grojband for a month and if I enjoy being a part of the band again, I have to consider staying permanently.” She tacks on.

Konnie shakes her head. “Well this gives us more of a reason to win. But seriously, why did you think this was a good idea? You’re literally the brain cell of The Newmans, that’s why you’re our manager.” She points out. Laney opens her mouth to answer her but finds that she doesn’t know what to say. Like she knows the main reasons why she said yes, but in all honesty she paid attention to the pros instead of the cons. Why did that happen? Laney usually goes for the cons first instead of the pros.

“I-I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about what would happen if The Newmans lost. You guys wouldn’t leave me if I had to go back to Grojband, right?” The bag of chips Laney has been holding pops open and chip crumbs fall onto Konnie’s lunch tray. Fortunately the other girl doesn’t seem to care however and just organizes them into a little pile on her tray while she answers Laney’s question. “Of course not, Penny Lane. You’ve become an important part of our group since you’ve started hanging out with us. Even before you became our manager, you were important to the team.” Konnie assures her, using the nickname that the band gave to Laney when she first started hanging out with them to further prove her point.

Laney takes a deep breath, silently reminding herself to breathe evenly so that she doesn’t work herself into a panic attack. Though even if she did work herself into a panic attack, she’d be okay because she’s hanging with Konnie right now and Konnie knows how to calm her down the best. “Thanks Konnie.” Laney says, feeling a bit more assured. Konnie nods. “Girl, you know I always got your back.” As sweet as the sentiment is, it makes Laney laugh afterwards because Konnie is sprinkling chip crumbs from her plate into her mouth. Though Laney would probably do the same. “Hey, do you have work today?” Konnie asks once she’s swallowed some water.

“Yep, it’s gonna be a long shift too so I’ll be doing homework there.” Laney says with a sigh. “Well, me and the others are gonna stop by and visit you. We could do homework together if the shop’s not too busy.” Konnie suggests, making Laney smile even more. “Yeah, that sounds good. You guys ARE always a great buffer for Corey.” She says, popping some chips in her mouth. “Oh and let me know if they need to hire more people because I will try to get hired to keep you company.” Konnie adds, finishing off the grilled cheese. “You don’t have to do that but I’ll keep you posted.” Laney says with a laugh.

Out of all the Newmans, Laney was the closest to Konnie. After the big blow up between her and Grojband, which had happened at school with an audience of no less than thirty, Laney had run off to cry in a janitor's closet. Konnie was there when the blow up had happened so she chased after Laney and comforted her. The rest is pretty much history, with Laney being added into the Newman’s crew as their manager that week at lunch. Being as close as she is to Konnie also meant that she knew a lot more about Konnie than most people. Like her secret boyfriend.

“How are you and Kon doing by the way? He hasn't sent me cryptic emails on his burner account asking for date ideas in a while.” Laney asks, causing Konnie to blush. “Oh we’re good. Coming up on that one year, so he’s been trying to prove that he can plan the perfect date without your help.” She says, her eyes practically morphing into hearts. Kon was the only member of Grojband that Laney had a good relationship with to this day, so she very much approved of the relationship between Konnie and Kon. “Well as long as he's treating you well, I have no complaints.” Laney says with a grin and a shrug. She pulled out the last of the food in her lunch box.

“Want my cheese stick?”

*****

You know what sucks?

Writing lyrics and using your own inspiration instead of your sister’s. But Corey knows it must be done if he wants to get his thoughts out. This of course, means that he has to write yet another song about Laney that he’ll never perform. But getting the words out isn’t as easy as it sounds, no, no, no. If anything, he’s having more trouble than usual, what with the bet that’s gonna put Laney back in his life for a month, the fact that the Newmans are currently in his dad’s shop and have been here for the past two hours, oh and that shiny necklace in the display shelf Corey is writing on isn’t helping much either.

He should have known the Ewmans were coming when Lanes asked his dad if her friends could come to the shop and do homework with her. His dad said, yes, of course because Laney is his favorite employee and apparently she gets her work done or something. Which sucks because when Corey asks his dad if Kin and Kon can come hang out with him in the shop, he’s told “No, Corey, finish pricing the rare books section and organizing it by price.” To which Corey would like to say that it’s not his fault that they never get anything cool at the pawn shop, like instruments or boxes of mannequin heads.

Wait, what was he supposed to be doing again? Oh right! Writing lyrics. Here’s what he had so far, 

Am I the boy you dreamed of? Oh(might need to tone down the oh, don’t want people to think we’re too much of a boy band, if we ever played this)

Living in your subconscious, oh oh

Do you believe in love? Oh

And is it because of me?(i hope she still believes in love)

Yeah, if it's up to me

Am I the boy you dreamed of? Oh

Living in your subconscious, oh oh

Do you believe in love? Oh

And is it because of me?(once maybe, prob not anymore)

So not much, but soon it will hopefully become something. But he doubts that it will happen today, because once again, the Ewmans are in his general area of space, talking to his Lanes. Right now they were talking about some Disney Channel franchise that he knew Laney probably didn’t care less about and was only humoring the Ewmans in their conversation. That’s Lanes for ya, always so considerate and willing to listen to people talking about things she doe- “By the way, Laney, did you finish writing that song?” Carrie’s stupid voice really needs to stop interrupting his thoughts.

Hold on, Laney writes music now? Since when? “No, I still need to do the sad ex part. Angry ex is done though.” And she’s writing songs about heartbreak? Who broke her heart, Corey would like to know. “Care to share it?” Kim asks, her voice is less stupid than Carrie’s but it’s still stupid.

“Uh, sure.” Laney glances his way to make sure he’s not paying attention so Corey pretends to be doing something that doesn’t involve looking and paying attention to her. This seems to work as he can hear the rustling of paper and Laney says, “Larry could you read the highlighted part? It’s my favorite part. Also I’m thinking kind of like a slow piano part with this song if that makes sense. ” Corey hears the Ewmans agree and Larry begins to read the paper;

“Do you miss me like I miss you?

Fucked around and got attached to you

Friends can break your heart too

And I'm always tired but never of you

If I pulled a you on you, you wouldn't like that shit

I put this reel out, but you wouldn't bite that shit

I type a text but then I never mind that shit

I got these feelings but you never mind that shit

Oh, oh

Keep it on the low

You're still in love with me but your friends don't know.

And if I was you I would never let me go.”

Corey’s heart is pounding wildly. Did…Did Laney write this song about him? The Ewmans’ feedback falls flatly on his ears as he starts to scramble to figure this out. She did write that friends could break your heart, which did happen at least to him when they stopped being friends. And Lanes did used to always be tired but she also always listened to him and the others with as much attention as she could give them. She was right about how he would have felt if she did what he did to her. He would have hated it. He would have hated her. 

All the signs were saying that the song was about him with the only part being wrong that Kin and Kon didn’t know about his feelings. They did, and were most definitely tired of him ranting about how he missed his chance and that he wished he could take it all back. 

“We should sing that for battle of the bands!” Konnie says, pulling the brakes on Corey’s speeding thoughts. “If I can get it done in time, it’s hard trying to do the sad ex.” Lanes says and out of the corner of Corey’s eye he can see her putting paper into a blue folder. “Either way, that’s probably one of your best works, Penny Lane.” Larry says and Corey wants to yell at them to stop calling Laney Penny Lane because that is a stupid nickname even if he DOES like the Beatles sometimes.

But he doesn’t because last time he did that, Carrie threw a book at his head and told him that he doesn’t get to pick Laney’s nicknames. The book ended up breaking a shelf and Carrie had to work at the shop for a month to make up for it, so Corey would rather not have a repeat of that incident.

A ball of paper hits his face. “Riffin! What’s your band’s setlist?” Carrie asks and Corey has to fight the urge to vomit at the sight of Carrie’s face. “Uh for what?” Corey says when he realizes he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “For the battle of the bands.” Carrie says with an eye roll. Corey scowls. “We’re not fully decided yet but we have agreed on 2 BEST FRIENDS, Old Me, and Monster.” He says. Sharing setlists is a thing he and Carrie do so that each band can do the opposite of what the other is doing. “Angry and rueful songs, huh? Guess we’re gonna have to do the opposite. Happy and content.” Carrie mumbles and Corey glances at the rest of the Ewmans and Lanes who are deep in thought. 

“Yeah that’s great, can I have my personal space back?” Corey snaps and Carrie rolls her eyes some more. He hopes that one day they get stuck in the back of her head. “Jeez, what crawled up your ass and died? I’m just making sure we don’t sound the same and no one is gonna confuse our bands again, literally nothing about that is out of the ordinary.” She says, raising an eyebrow. “Three reasons. One, I don’t like you. Two, I’ve had to listen to your stupid voice for the past two hours. Three, It’s almost six and you and your band are still here, distracting my coworker from doing her job.” He snaps, crumpling the paper in his hands.

Carrie scoffs. “One, I don’t like you either but at least I can be civil with you. Two, your voice is annoying to me but do I say anything? No, I don’t. And three, you’ve literally just sat there for the past two hours doing nothing while Laney has been doing homework, going over stock in the display case, and keeping a steady conversation with us. I don’t think you get an opinion on what she does. And anyway, we’re leaving soon.” Corey opens his mouth to argue but for once, Carrie is right. He hates it when she calls him out but when she’s right, ugh that is the worst!

Carrie smiles. “That’s what I thought.” She turns around and Corey just watches numbly as she and the rest of the Ewmans say their goodbyes to Lanes. He hated the Ewmans before everything that went down with Laney, but now that they took Laney from them he hates them even more.

Faintly he can hear the door close so he looks over at Laney and starts to take her in. She’s not paying attention to him, so he can stare for as long he wants. Earlier today when they made the bet he noticed that she hadn’t straightened her hair that morning so her normally straight hair was curly. Corey had always thought Laney looks pretty but when her hair is in its natural state, it just does something to him. It’s like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again. Her eyes are darting over the stock notebook and he truly finds it incredible how expressive they can be. No matter how stoic her face is, her eyes always give her away. Her freckles cover her face perfectly and Corey just wants to kiss each one of them, one by-

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Lanes’ voice interrupts his thoughts. Corey jerks back a bit, embarrassing himself further after being caught staring. “Just taking in your natural beauty.” He responds, which is true but he knows Laney just thinks he’s messing with her when he says stuff like that. “You look like a stalker.” She answers, checking something off the stock notebook. Laney’s not even looking at him, she just knows he’s staring. “You’re a piece of art, Penn. I need at least an hour to take you in.” Corey says, grinning mischievously.

Laney looks up from the notebook, her expression a bored one. “Did you get that pick up line off the internet again?” She asks and Corey blushes. He really hopes it doesn’t show. “Ouch, you wound me. That was a Riffin original.” He says and Laney throws a pencil at his head. “No wonder it was bad then.” She reaches the stock notebook out towards him. “I’m going to stock check in the back, finish this for me will you?” Corey takes the notebook from her and their fingers brush. Just like when they did the pinkie promise, her skin feels warm and electrifying. She disappears into the back room as Corey lingers on how her touch makes him feel.

He loves it.

Almost as much as he loves her.

And the second chapter is done! Sorry if the ending seems a little awkward I didn’t know how to finish it. As always, send me asks about this, I would to info dump for this!

[1-aussiedollar]

Relationship charts!

(I’ve put notes for each in the alt text!)

Corey and Laney

Kin and Kon

Carrie and Lenny

Kim and Konnie

Trina and Mina

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 4: Girl U Want

[can also be read on AO3]

Summary: Rory and Nikolai are forced to hold off an attack on Botha's life, and its the return of an enemy the 141 has faced previously

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, canon-typical violence, swearing, stabbing, wound tending, flirting via facetime

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word Count: 3.5 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV. allusions are made to the mission "Recon by Fire", and it's the first appearance of Gaz in this fic!

October 29 2022 11:30 - Abidjan, Republic of Côte d'Ivoire

Weapons fire riddled the building, streaks of daylight breaking through the pinholes pricked through the walls. Bullets ricocheted, carving trenches into the wood panelling, popping the twinkling bulbs of the string lights and blowing through the speakers causing them to smoke and sputter out sparks while the music died with a low, tortured warble. 

The barkeeper ran for the backrooms, hiding out from the sudden burst of violence at his establishment, while Nik took cover by the door and Rory grabbed the edge of the table she was taking cover under with Botha, pulling it down hastily to flip it on its side, forming a barrier against the onslaught of lead being fired at them. “Fucking hell!” she snapped, tugging at her jacket to get the material off of her. Slipping her handgun from the now easily accessible holster strapped to her shoulder, she called across the bar room, “How much ammo have you got, Nik?” “However much they bring in,” he replied, tipping his head in the direction of the small force of soldiers headed in their direction, wearing matching outfits to the body that lay on the floor below the broken window.

Popping up out of cover, Rory took a brief moment to get a better look at what she was dealing with. Counting heads, checking what sort of firepower they were bringing down on her. 

“Bugger me sideways,” she muttered, dropping back down. “I count at least twelve heads out there, some of them armoured with plates, all carrying ARs.”

Last time the 141 had come up against Konni it wasn’t out in the open like this, they weren’t so obvious, they were disguised as police officers and paramedics. Apparently they’d dropped those rules of engagement when it came to dealing with a quick severing of a loose end. 

“Pick off the ones we can with what we’ve got,” she ordered, “Try to get them to waste their ammo on the way in, and we get close and personal as a last resort.”

“Close and personal with those fokkers?” Botha cocked his brow at her, less than impressed with her commands, staring at her as if she had gone mad.

“We wouldn’t be in this bloody mess if not for you. So kindly keep your gobby trap shut, and get into cover behind that bar so I have one less thing to worry about,” she barked before scuttling out of cover and patting down the body on the floor. 

Besides the blood that now stained her hands, she managed to collect a smoke grenade and stashed it on her as well as the handgun strapped to his leg. It wasn’t much, but every bit of assistance was critical in a one-sided fight like this where the odds weren’t necessarily in their favour.

Crawling up to the window ledge, she peeked her head up and more bullet fire went off, tearing chunks out of the walls. Ducking quickly, she glanced over at Nik. “Right. That’s it. On me.” She gave the signal and he was quick to follow her lead. 

Bullets volleyed back and forth, seeming to last forever, the car park becoming a war zone as casings tinkled on the hard cement, muzzles flared and sparked in the midday, and innocent civilians in the vicinity ran to take cover. Urban combat situations had always been her least favourite type of battle ground. Too many things could go wrong, too many variables left out of her control. Things could get bloody, brutal. And fast. 

Despite the ferocity of the firefight – projectiles tearing into clothing, kevlar, and wood – when the dust finally settled, enough of an invasion force of highly skilled soldiers still remained. 

Sharp shots of pain emanated down Rory’s arm from the pulsating, burning ache of her shoulder that was nowhere near ready to be dragged into a hand-to-hand combat situation. But alas, here she was. She caught herself reaching for the area where the left pocket of her tac vest usually sat carrying her brass knuckles, patting the phantom material and sighing. Unfortunately, in this case, she’d come ill prepared for such an eventuality. The carbon of her empty handgun would have to stand-in improvisationally.

As the first Konni operatives breached their makeshift fortress, Rory hung back, slipping into the dark hallway before rolling the smoke grenade into the middle of the room, using the element of surprise as an asset. Tucking the material of her shemagh up over her mouth and nose, she watched as grey smoke pumped into the room, coiling wisps of it curling up towards the ceiling and spreading out towards every corner. The compact room now a foggy mess, with limbs protruding from it cartoonishly as soldiers coughed and sputtered. Grabbing her jacket left crumpled on the floor, she moved silently into the masses. Wrapping the material around one of the enemy’s necks, twisting it tighter, the body in her arms acted as a human shield and her jacket the reins. Like a battering ram, she used the gasping soldier, clawing at his throat while choking for air and sucking back smoke, to break through the group of operatives. 

Tossing him back against the counter, slamming her knee up into his solar plexus, she rammed the gun repeatedly into his face with each forceful punch in the nose. Hot blood shooting out from his nostrils sprayed across her knuckles like the last glob of brown sauce from the bottle splattering onto the plate. Whipping the weapon back and forth against his face, the metallic stench hit her nostrils, struck by the coppery taste that followed sucking on a penny as she let the body slip free and slump to the floor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the streak of an unidentified flying object passing by, only to be met by a heavy crack and a groan from the other side of the room. Splinters from a chair hurled by Nik at the face of one of the Konni operatives scattered the floor and toothpick shrapnel blew out in all directions. The solid remains of the wooden chair quickly picked up and tossed like a shot put at another man’s back by the Russian, winding them. 

In the confusion, she was grabbed from behind, a large arm compressing her waist and squeezing. Entirely thankful for her sparring practice with Ghost, Rory found her entry, her elbow connecting under the operative’s ribs, notching beneath plates and bone to find the soft middle. Sliding the tactical knife from his vest as his grip loosened, she shoved it up and into his armpit, stabbing at the axillary artery deep within the socket joint, carving away at him as the blade disappeared into layers of clothing, muscle, and flesh, only to reappear dripping in syrupy claret. 

Each stab became simultaneously easier and more difficult as she continued to spear with abandon, the penetration lubricated, but the marrow deep throb in her shoulder made her grit her teeth with each grate of her bones through the muscle and tendon. Biting back a pain-induced moan, meeting with the chorus of grunts and wails of the man bleeding out on the floor, his ragged wheeze gave way to hitched breaths and then a wet, gurgling scream. 

Wiping the arterial spray from her face with her arm, her attention moved back to the bar. Botha might have been shit about following her orders before, but he was certainly paying attention now that his life was dangling from a knife’s edge – literally so, in this case. Hidden behind the wooden structure, he hadn’t popped up like a prairie dog yet, maintaining his position under cover instead. She wasn’t all that surprised he wasn’t playing hero, he’d already promised he was out to cover his own arse before anyone else’s. She moved through the ruckus and grabbed a bottle from the bar, tsking her tongue at the poor quality of the stuff served on premise, before smashing it against the wood countertop and slashing outwards towards the sound of the cracking tile under the weight of heavy boots behind her. Failing to land a hit, one large hand gripped tightly in her hair, her head slammed into the bar for her efforts, face dragged against the shattered glass littering the counter. A hoarse yell tore through her throat with the same shearing effect as the broken shards ripping through her skin. Wet, hot anger spilling forth from her veins drove her defense, and the bottle in her hand was promptly slammed into his thigh. Twisting it, she dug the jagged edges into the skin left, then right. 

“Сука!” The expletive was spat in her ear as she delivered the pendulum swing of torment to his leg and the back of her head collided with his teeth in a one-two punch causing the x ray to stumble back. 

Teeth bared, saliva stained pink, she smashed the broken bottle into his face, followed by a decisive punch to his throat. Fragile bone crunched and cracked under the force she used, crushing the windpipe. A slow, painful death at the hands of prey animal rage. 

Her heart raced, her senses numbed, her vision tunnelled to lock onto her targets. The blood thundered in her ears so intensely it felt like even her eyes were pulsating with each thump through the capillaries that fed them. Once the adrenaline wore off, she’d start feeling every wind up and hit. 

Tomorrow would be hell. 

Rory hissed and vaulted over the bar, grabbing a scoop of ice in a handful along the way, and held it to her shoulder. The numbing sting to her fingertips was almost a comfort – at least one part of her didn’t feel like it was falling apart. Blood streamed down her cheeks in rivulets where she wiped the bits of glass away with her arm. She was a mess, tattered and torn, her breathing made more difficult with the smoke that still floated in the air.  

Her focus was set on the weapons dealer sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest and his gun in his hands, finger left curled over the trigger. Glaring at him and the waste of perfectly good ammo clutched in his grip, she scoffed. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to use your own bloody product.”

He glanced over at her, sweat dribbling down his forehead and soaking his brow despite never lifting a finger. “Course I do. But I’m not some bloody soldier, am I? This is for protection,” he said, shaking the gun in his hands. “It's defensive.”

“Defensive, my arse. It’s a gun.” She held out her hand for him to willingly place the weapon into, directing him with the curl of her fingers. “Hand it over.” 

Snatching the weapon from him, she checked the clip. Completely unused. “Might’ve come in handy if you’d made this available earlier,” she grumbled, slotting the gun back together. “Stay here.”

Crawling around the edge of the bar, she peeked around the corner, the force they had to contend with earlier had mostly been cut down, just the last few stragglers left who refused to go down. The heavies who had likely faced the same sort of environmental and physical survival training she had been through, the kind that taught a person to push through the pain. 

Lining up her shots, she took a steadying breath, her arm shaking under the strain of her shoulder. There was no point in going for fancy, it was better to go for effective, leaving her to shoot each enemy soldier in the chest. 

The rapid succession of weapons fire cut through the sounds of savagery, fists pummeling into skin and muscle. The ear-piercingly loud bang of each burst of gunfire was deafening in the small bar as each target left standing was taken down.

Ensuring no one was getting back up, Rory peeked out the open frame of the window, checking for anyone still waiting outside. But, just like upon arrival, it was a ghost town besides the bodies left to linger in the graveyard of the car park. “Right, coast is clear. Nik, mind grabbing Botha for me? The arm’s out of commission and our guest needs to be handed off.”

Without question, the Russian reached down over the bar and dragged Botha to his feet, his hand gripping the other man’s collar like an animal’s scruff. “You heard the Lieutenant. No point in arguing.” 

Swinging open the front door, walking out into the parking lot, Rory checked back over her shoulder. “Think you can get a clean up crew on this, Nik?”

He shrugged, his lower lip curling into a pout as he debated it. “Not a problem.”

“I see why Price keeps you on speed dial now,” she said, smirking back at him. 

October 29 2022 16:00 - Safehouse

A cigarette dangled from her bottom lip, the smoke curling in the humid room with the thickness of paste as she paced back and forth in the bedroom. The door left ajar, allowing her an eyeline to where Botha sat in an old armchair in the other room, swigging back on a bottle of beer. Everything remained sweat slicked in the cramped apartment. Clothes damp, made worse with the weight of a quickly thawing bag of freezer burnt frozen peas that had been there for God knows how long draped over her shoulder, the plastic bag crinkling and crackling with every movement as she got in contact with the CIA operative Laswell had linked her up with for the transfer of the arms dealer in question to place him under protection. 

The meeting was set for the next day, which gave them more than enough time for a quick patch up job before she’d finally get to return to Stirling Lines and have to deal with Sydney – or rather, Dr. Macallen as she was known now – tearing into her for living too dangerously. Rory was a far cry from the stick in the mud corporal Syd had once known. Only had herself to blame for that, really. If Syd hadn’t invited her out for drinks that night on leave, Rory would never have wound up meeting John.

With the call over, Rory walked out into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind her. The TV played at a quiet hum, the voices a droning whisper as they went over the latest sports scores on the news – English Premier League. It was like she had hardly left home at all. Tossing her mobile down on the empty seat of the couch beside Nikolai, she headed for the tiny bathroom. 

Musty and dark, she flipped on the switch and was met by the sight of herself battered and bruised. Her cheek suffered the appearance of road rash, the skin raw and ragged with sliver-sized abrasions. Sighing, she stubbed out her cigarette in the basin and grabbed a cloth, rinsing it under the flowing water at the tap. Hunched in front of the mirror, she pressed the cold, wet cloth to her cheek, and with a hissed inhale between clenched teeth, let it moisten the dried and clotted blood that clung to her flesh, loosening it in order to slough it away. 

The sting was the worst part, like a million little paper cuts all biting at her whenever touched by even the faintest of breezes. That same prickling twinge that chased up the nerves after nicking her leg in the shower with her razor but repeated again and again.

Could’ve been worse, she thought to herself, wiping away the flecks of blood. At least it didn’t look like it would leave a scar. Her shoulder, on the other hand, was going to have to be looked at again. Hell, might even force her to have to get surgery on it this time. Rory shuddered. Nursemaid Price was hardly something to look forward to. She was never a fan of how much of a stickler he was for the stringent schedule of taking her proper medications, handing out the correct dosage just shy of the little certified paper cup, and making sure to take them with food when required. She dreaded catching a cold when he was about, it made him twice the mother hen he already was.

Leaning down, she splashed water on her face and turned off the faucet, grabbing the first aid kit tucked away to bandage herself up when she heard the faint vibrations of her phone on the couch in the other room.

“It’s Price!” Nik’s low boom carried over to her as she aligned the gauze on her cheek, gluing it down with the available medical tape.

“Leave it. I’ll ring him back.”

Or not.

The muffled sound of Nik greeting her partner over the phone made her groan.  Bloody hell. As long as it wasn’t the usual video call her and Price took part in during the evenings. Coming out into the living room, she realized she had been far too hopeful, catching a glimpse of piercing blue eyes on the screen of her mobile. 

“What the hell happened, Ror?” Price’s voice thundered.

She sighed and walked over to Nik, snatching the mobile from his hand. “Thank you so much for that,” she muttered to the Russian quietly before heading back into the bedroom. 

With the door firmly shut behind her, she continued, “Ran into a spot of trouble. Apparently the missiles Hassan has weren't just a gift from the Russians.” She paused, sucking her teeth, waiting for the inevitable gruff growl as she dropped another thing in the Captain’s lap. “It’s Konni, John. They came for Botha.”

“Konni? As in Makarov? That Konni?” he snarled.

“Exactly that, yeah.” Nodding, her eyes fluttered shut as she winced and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

His eyes narrowed at her through the screen, at the way she grazed her hand against the bandage on her cheek absentmindedly. “You okay, sweetheart?” The distinct growl remained in his voice, but the way he looked at her softened. 

“Just a few scratches, nothing to fuss over. Should see the other guys,” she added with a smirk. 

He sighed and dragged his hand down his jaw, rubbing at the scruffy whiskers on his cheeks and the stubble on his chin. “Fucking hell.” His voice a low rasp, “How’d they get their hands on American missiles?”

“Don’t know yet,” she said with a shrug. “I’m playing catch up with all this just the same, love. I’m giving you answers as soon as I get them.”

“Somethin’ for us to keep an eye out for in Spain then. Wonder if Konni will be joinin’ in with the narcos and AQ,” he muttered. “Bloody brilliant.”

His snide tone not going unnoticed, the corner of her mouth started to curl into a half grin as she bit back on it. “Careful, you’re starting to sound just as sarcastic as I do.”

Brushing a hand through his hair, the lines in his face deepened as a smirk crept up on him. “Learned from the best, I s’pose.”

“You did, indeed.”

On the screen, dark hair popped up from behind Price’s shoulder, along with a toothy grin, as the Captain’s young protege leaned into frame. “There’s the missus,” Gaz goaded. “How are we this evening, Lamb?”

It didn’t take a genius to note that she had clearly been through the mill considering the bandage on her cheek stained with blooming rust.

“Just peachy.”

“Sure looks it.”

“Sod off,” Price gruffed, elbowing the sergeant out of the way.

Rory laughed. “What’s got our Gaz with a pep in his step?”

“Ghillie suits,” he replied flatly.

“Ghillie suits, eh?” Her brow lifted and she couldn’t stop the shit eating grin that pulled at her mouth. “Well, let’s just hope you aren’t left picking clay out of your beard like last time. I’m not there to suds you up and trim your whiskers, am I?”

Price rolled his eyes, his face stern as he sighed – a quiet grouse at her constant teasing. But that didn’t hide the pinkish hue invading his cheeks. With a sharp clearing of his throat, the cold, resolute Captain returned. “And what about Botha?”

“What about him?”

“Nearly washed your hands of ‘im yet?”

“Nearly,” she said, glancing at the door, looking forward to being free of the burden. “Hand off is tomorrow, then Nik’ll fly me back to Stirling Lines. Can only imagine how much paperwork in triplicate is waiting for me there.”

“The life of an officer,” he mused, heavy brow furrowing.

“Yeah, almost forgot that was part of it. Wanted to stay far away from a desk job, and now look at me.”

“It suits you, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she said, purring out his rank as if it were an endearment.

“And sweetheart’?” His powder blues locking onto her, the way they would when he was uttering a command. “Just make sure it’s not Nik greetin’ me on the screen tonight when I call again, yeah?”

She snickered, the implication clear about the type of call it might be. “Will do.”

“Tha’s my good girl.”

“I’ll see you later, my darling.” And with the blow of a kiss at the screen, she ended the call.

[afro-hispwriter]

A Soldier & An Assassin

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Summary- sent on a solo recon mission, ghost finds himself with an assassin from a Brotherhood that has an official-unofficial undocumented alliance with the military

Assassins Creed x Call of Duty

A/n- The reader is French and black but has no physical descriptions. She has a French accent but it probably comes off as more English. She is a descendant of Abbo Cernuns(a hidden one who is the most intrigued by). Her outfit choices are similar to Evie Fryes but more modernized I should say.this is part 1. Warnings- slow burn??? Wc- 1.1k

-

Hassan was dead but now Makarov was coming up. He is in prison but the man has power, and his own army is causing trouble already which has the 141 on edge. 

The Konni have been transporting weapons never-ending, and the possibility of one of those containers carrying missiles goes up every time.

Price and Laswell agreed just to send one person to check. Ghost was chosen for this recon, quick and quiet. 

-

Ghost climbed up the stairs and ran to the ledge and pulled his sniper out.

"Watcher 1 to Ghost, how we looking?" Laswell says in his ear.

"Lots of armed personnel surrounding multiple containers." 

"Okay, if there are any signs of a missile, we're coming to you." 

"Copy." Ghost zoomed in his scope on each container, trying to get a closer look inside one.

"How many do you think there are down there?" To say his bones didn't jump out of his skin was an understatement. The feminine voice in his ear did not come from his comm in his right ear. No. This voice was not Laswell and whoever it was, was physically there next to him. Ghost whipped around to see who it was but was met with a black hood. He drew his knife but it got knocked out of his hands and the blade was pressed against his neck. 

"Is this how you treat all your allies?" Ghost slowly raised his hands in surrender, knowing the blade could slice through his jugular any second. 

"If you were an ally, you wouldn't have snuck up on me. Anybody tell you don't sneak up on an armored man?" He says slowly standing up to his feet, the blade the woman had following him. 

"Anybody tell you don't underestimate a woman." There was a slight chuckle that came from you. "Laswell, always keeping her word." The blade retracted and Ghost finally turned his head to face you. You were not at all what he was expecting. The all-black get-up looked ridiculous, it was like you were pulled right out of a book. You looked Ridiculous.

"You know Laswell?"

The hood was pulled back and the brightest smile was put on your face. Okay, you look less ridiculous now. 

"Laswell and I go way back, she saved my life one day and now she is my friend, along with the others. She has earned our respect."

"Others?" 

"Ever heard of the Brotherhood, or the Hidden Ones?" You ask him and start to walk to the ledge of the building and pull out some binoculars to zoom in on the Konni. 

"Rumors, stories. A large  group of Assassins that live among us." Ghost says cautiously and approaches you from behind. 

"And we have kept it like that for thousands of years, thanks to our skills, leaders, and people like Laswell." 

"Well, I would've liked to know I would have company on something that was supposed to be solo." 

"I asked her not to say anything. I knew a man with a skull face mask would be here and he goes by Ghost." You look back at him and look him up and down. "I also trusted my skills enough to handle you if it came to it." Ghost scoffed at that and you stood up straight. "Look." You passed the binoculars to Ghost and he grabbed them, he looked at you wearily but looked. 

"Bloody hell." Ghost zoomed in on the open container to see an array of controls. 

"They're covering it up with drugs and money." Ghost handed you the binoculars back and clicked his radio. 

"This is Bravo-7 to Watcher-1." 

"Go for Watcher-1."

"There's a container here with what looks like missile controls in it."

"Damn." Ghost looked back at you and you raised an eyebrow. 

"I also ran into your, friend." He hesitated at that before hearing Laswell sigh. 

"Yeah sorry about that Ghost, but she was very insistent on not to tell you but I trust her. She is a good person." He trusted Laswell with his life, so if she trusts you, so can he(maybe). “But come on back, we need to find what those controls are connected to.”

“Copy.” Ghost responds and starts to walk away. You throw your arms up in shock.

“Um hello?” You scoff and walk after him. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing a civilian needs to know about.” 

“I'm not a civilian.” Ghost stops and sighs before turning around.

“You’re friends with Laswell and an assassin. Nothing there tells me you are part of the military. This isn’t your warzone.” You shook your head and pinched your nose. 

“Dangerous people are everywhere, and that means the battleground changes but the mission remains the same.” He could agree with that. 

“Why are you here?” He asks lowly and you press your lips together. 

“That's for you to figure out.” You say with a sly smirk and walk past him. You brushed your shoulder against his gently. Your perfume hit his nostrils through the mask and he felt his body willingly want to follow you. “See you around, partner.” You said it very teasingly as you stepped on the ledge of the building, hood being brought back up to your head, and leaned forward until you were falling. 

This was the second time you’ve scared Ghost. He ran to the ledge to see where you went but there was nothing. No blood on the sidewalk and you weren’t on the fire escape.

When Ghost got back to base and gave his full report(leaving you out). After that, he opened the dusty laptop that he never used and started researching the Hidden Ones. But the whole time, you flooded his head. Your beautiful smile, the ridiculous get-up, and your adorable accent. 

Ghost ripped his mask off his face and tossed it on his desk. He didn’t like the way you were making him feel but it wasn’t at all an unwelcome feeling.

-

A/n- I'm not very proud of this, it's not at all how I wanted it to go but if anybody is interested in a second part I'll work on that:) hope you guys somewhat enjoyed

[notspazztrapavacado]

Got the inspiration for this from scpdoctor-incorrectquotes so thanks again for being cool with me writing this :)

'Frozen frustration'

Dr. Iceberg x reader (fluff?)

“Fucking GREAT.” Iceberg groaned loudly his protest to the sky, as if that would make the clouds disperse under the wrath of his less than intimidating stature. 

Ice coated every concrete surface it could cing to. The hand railings, the sidewalk, most of the street, the stairs. The people responsible for pouring salt and removing the frozen layer of winter wouldn't be here for another three hours. He frowned, not wanting to sleep in the breakroom again and wanting to fall down the stairs even less. 

“Mornin’ Iceman.” A familiar voice sounded from behind him and he felt his hair get ruffled, messing it up even more than it already was from his long day at work.

“(Y/n)? You’re still here?” He tilted his head and the friend in question had to stop themselves short of commenting on how cute he could be when he was tired. 

“Yeah, I was helping Bright out with his filing. Guy’s the least organized bastard in this place.” (He/She) made a move to go past them, not even minding the ice as their shoe was able to successfully make an imprint in the ice. Iceberg huffed, irritated.

“You comin’?” (Y/n) asked, raising a brow as (he/she) was puzzled by his stillness. 

“Can't. Shoes don’t get traction and i’m not quite heavy enough to change that.” He crossed his arms, getting a little pink in the face at the sound of a laugh.

“Need help?” (He/She) pulled (his/her) hand from (his/her) pocket and held it out, fingers splayed and wiggling to motion the offer forward.

“We’ll both eat shit on the stairs if I go down.” Iceberg made sure that part was clear as he placed his hand in (his/hers). (He/She) only laughed again. 

“Alright, 50/50 chance we don’t is still good odds.” (He/She) shot him a smile and he had to return it. It might not be the best situation to find yourself holding hands with someone in, but it was better than nothing and Iceberg was a sucker for anything warmer than him. Especially hugs and hand holding. . . he shook the further thoughts of (Him/Her) away with a blush and some self scolding under his breath that was inaudible to his more optimistic co-worker.

He took a hesitant step down, feeling the lack of friction under his shoe making his weight slide towards (Y/n) a little more, his free hand reaching fast to cling onto (his/her) arm. 

“Don’t go falling for me too hard, there.” (He/she) joked, making his face catch a blush again. 

“Take your time.” (He/She) reassured him carefully, taking their next step down. He joined with a tentative step to the iced cement, putting yet more weight on the arm. 

“You weren’t kidding about that comment on being underweight.” (He/She) made another jab at him, and he grumbled at the teasing. 

“I’m stunted, okay? Now shut up so I can concentrate.” He was the one to reach the next step first, and (Y/n) watched closely as (he/she) joined him on that step. 

From somewhere behind them, the current form of Dr. Clef made its way down the steps without so much as a second’s hesitation, before looking up to them with a sharp smile. 

“Morning, Alto. Where ya headin?” (Y/n) was not the least bit phased, though Iceberg was bordering on upset at the casual pace the reality bender was able to descend at. 

“Just here. You two’ve been out here a while and I’m just waiting for someone to bite it.” He pulled out his phone and started to record them.

“Well fuck you, too, asshole!” Iceberg raised his voice, back to being embarrassed he not only needed help with this, but that he was now being filmed about to potentially fuck up his nose on the stairs in front of two of his co workers, one of them a crush he’d been nursing like a wound for the past few months.

“Do you trust me?” (Y/n) nudged him. “Like, really trust me?” (He/She) asked. 

“What are you planning?” He peered up at them. He was just a bit shorter than (him/her) due to the stunting he got from the severe anxiety of gaining too much weight in his younger teen years, and was still growing used to the fact (Y/n) was one of the only friends he had that did not instinctively hunch over a bit to look at him directly. 

“If I tell you, you’ll send us down on video, you either gotta trust me or continue the pace we’re at.” He had choices. Neither of them ones he liked, but conceded to anyway. 

“I trust you.” He sighed, his grip loosening on (his/her) arm.

“Up we go!” (Y/n) jutted (his/her) hands forward to be under his arms, pulling him up to his torso. 

Iceberg yelped and grappled with the back of (Y/n)’s shirt, legs wrapping around (his/her) waist and stringing together several unintelligible objections to being scooped up so suddenly without warning, only growing worse as (Y/n) took off down the stairs in a run. He squeezed his eyes shut, whole body absolutely rigid with fear, waiting for impact with the ground at some point…

“Alright, we’re down.” (He/She) patted his back.

“I didn’t get what I wanted but that shit was hilarious. Imma go bother Konny.” Clef snickered and waved, earning only a glare from Iceberg as he started back up the steps. 

“You want down or is it warm up here?” (Y/n) offered. 

“Don’t know if that was a cold joke or a short joke.” He replied saltily… He was right though, it was very warm up here, and now that the initial shock was gone, it really wasn’t so bad. 

“I think it’ll be faster if I just carry you.” (Y/n) started at a much more reasonable pace down the frozen sidewalk, not minding the extra weight one bit. 

“Aren’t you cold?” He piped up, not having thought about it before. 

“Not really.” (Y/n) shrugged. It was half true, (he/she) wasn’t exactly cold, though (he/she) was colder than before by just a small margin. 

“My apartment is number 12.” He decided to tell him ahead of time. Most of the researchers with anomalous properties lived on site to avoid potential trackers that could tie them to the facility or raise suspicion in the local communities. 

“I’m the one across from you, we’ve been neighbors a year as of last week.” (He/She) gave a small laugh at the information. Iceberg buried his face in (his/her) coat both for the added warmth and to hide the further embarrassment at how much he’d fucked up today. 

“Keys?” (Y/n) asked, freeing a hand from it’s place helping the other hold him. 

“Left pocket.” He instructed, not willing to let go. 

“Wow, just gonna let me put my hand in your pants like this?” (Y/n) teased before locating the left pocket in question and dipping (his/her) hand in, pulling the keyring out by the loop.

“You try anything and I pull us both backwards.” He threatened. 

“Not only do you think you’re heavy enough for that, but you just said you’d let me top right here in public?” (He/She) laughed, earning mildly angry silence. 

(Y/n) selected the key that resembled (his/her) own and pushed it into the lock, turning it and hearing the telltale click of the old lock before pushing the door open. (He/she) set him carefully past the step and onto the warm linoleum of his well-heated house. 

“Alright, you can fuck off now.” Iceberg crossed his arms. 

“Awe, don’t I get a kiss on the cheek like those christmas romcoms?” (Y/n) leaned forward a bit and pointed at (his/her) cheek. He only pouted and opened his mouth to tell him off. 

“You can go shove it if you think I’d thank you for scaring me half to death and being a pr-” He was cut off as (Y/n) leaned away without taking the weight shift into consideration and slipping, feet sliding around trying to get a grip in vein as they ultimately fell forward and smacked their face into the concrete slab that was his doorstep. 

“Oh shit, are you alright?!” Iceberg kneeled down in near-panic for his friend. (He/She) sat up in a daze before shaking (his/her) head of the fuzziness and starting to laugh loudly. 

At the sight that, other than a nasty bruise across (his/her) nose and blood gushing from said orifice, (he/she) was just fine. Iceberg, half out of relief, joined the laughing fit. 

Maybe today wasn’t so bad.

[airadam]

Episode 115 : Our Streets

"Watch the roads before crossing."

- Tyler

Beating the deadline, coming in a few hours before the New Year, giving you time to play this on the way out - or if you're staying in! This month's mix has some of my favourite tracks of 2018, as well as some choice selections from deeper in the crates. Enjoy the listen, and spread the word!

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

The Mouse Outfit : Late Night Doors

One of Manchester's finest crews blessed us with the acclaimed "Jagged Tooth Crook" album this year and they continue to bring the quality every time out. New collaborator Berry Blacc takes his place on the mic alongside old hands Dubbul O and Ellis Meade for some quality low-tempo flavour, with the beat being an absolute gem. The drums, bass, and piano are all played without flash and to absolutely perfect combined effect - the mark of musicians who know exactly what they're doing!

Maes & Fybre : This One

Pure Manchester again, with these two dub producers almost outlawing everything that isn't bass on this one! One of the many (seriously, many) great tracks on the "From Manchester With Love" compilation.

Curren$y : Drone Footage

I pretty much planned this segment in reverse, and this was the last tune to fall into place. 70-ish BPM is a tricky speed for Hip-Hop, unless it's got trap-type production like this - which ironically was so slow I had to boost it up a bit! Not much to say about this succinct track - a bite-sized portion of Curren$y's signature lifestyle rap over an 808-heavy beat. Pick it up on this year's "Parking Lot Music" EP.

Andy Mineo & Wordsplayed as Magic & Bird : Kidz

I think I found this album on a random Spotify search and was drawn in by the "Magic & Bird" theme - as it turns out, it gave me a great tune for my gym playlist! Andy Mineo isn't someone I've heard before but he's a Christian Hip-Hop artist (well, that would explain the sudden prayer right before the last hook!) out of NYC who's been recording for the last five years or so. Apparently the lyrical theme for this one came from the producer Beam, who, when Mineo complained on hearing the beat that he wanted to get away from the trap sound, told him "just do one for the kids!" Mineo and Wordsplayed ride the beat ably and prove him dead right :)

Z-Ro : Like A Rocket

With the recent release of the "Sadism" album, and last year's "Codeine", it looks like the retirement is off! I'm always here for Ro's half-sung, half-rapped delivery style, and it fits perfectly over Risko Funk's 80s ballad-sampled track. The original flavour isn't overwhelmed by the drums or extra bass, but there are lots of nice touches along the way - heavy filters sweeping in, extreme pitch shifting on the drums towards the end, and a general tendency to make you want to replay the tune :) I don't know if the track title is taken from K-Rino's quote from a Houston Chronicle article a couple of years back, but if so then it's a great connection! Oh yes - didn't realise I bought the clean version of this until I put it in the mix :)

Zero 7 ft. Hidden : Mono

After a long hiatus, Zero 7 are back and I'm always interested to hear what they're bringing. This single starts off with pure spacey vibes before the solid drum line comes in, followed by the vocals of Hidden - soulful, and also restrained. 

Kaytranada : Nevalie

A very old one from the man out of Montreal, first posted on his Soundcloud about six years ago. Took a while to find a good track to follow the Zero 7, but EQing this one down to just the snare and trappy hi-hats initially opened up a really good opportunity for a mix!

Children of Zeus x Black Milk : Won't End Well

Manchester and Detroit combination! When this was released at the start of December I thought it was a one-off single, only to be completely surprised on Xmas Eve with the release of "The Winter Tape", an essential and completely free album! This track featured appropriately bleak and sparse production from Black Milk while Konny and Tyler describe the lack of happy endings in the street game - as your parents certainly did if they're anything like mine. 2018 has absolutely been the year of Zeus and they're carrying big momentum into 2019.

1982 ft. Lil' Fame and Haile Supreme : It's On You

The union of Termanology and Statik Selektah has finally returned for their second full LP "Still 1982" - and not before time. The hi-hat-less drums and occasional chimes in this beat made it mix smoothly with "Won't End Well" and got it the nod over another cut that we'll definitely play here in the future. Haile Supreme is new to me but the soul he puts into the hook certainly grabs your attention, and M.O.P's Lil' Fame steals the show on the rhyme side, though Termanology is absolutely solid as always.

Marco Polo ft. Invincible : Drunken Sleuth

It's always good to hear Invincible, who is always one to come with high-quality bars. In the guise of an overlooked drunk, she takes on corruption, homelessness, and the lack of democracy in her home city of Detroit on this ambitious and well-executed track. This is one where it's well worth reading her own annotated lyrics to get more background on the specifics. Beat-wise, Marco Polo is one of the finest in recent years and his work here and on the rest of the "PA2 : The Director's Cut" album is a great example of modern production that is inspired by a classic sensibility.

Cormega ft. Chantelle Nandi : More

The Queensbridge veteran brings a positive, uplifting message on this selection from the 2014 "Mega Philosophy" album, with the vocalist Chantelle Nandi making her debut appearance. As the album title suggests, the 30-minute collection is centred around this kind of theme, so it's definitely worth taking a short while to hear the whole thing!

Doo Wop : Castle To Castle (Instrumental)

I was torn in planning over whether to play the vocal version or just this beat, but the direction the mix went in meant that we'll save the Raekwon bars for another episode. This is the A-side to a vinyl that features the Rahzel-voiced "Ten Tape Commandments" on the flip, with both of course produced by one of the undisputed legends of the mixtape game.

Pusha T : Numbers On The Boards

Stomping, aggressive tune from Pusha's first solo album "My Name Is My Name" with Don Cannon, Kanye, and 88 Keys all combining to provide the production. No matter how good the beat though, you come to Pusha T for lyrical ability and he brings it as per usual - double-meanings aplenty as he dresses down any and all challengers. Michael Kors also catches a stray on the second verse!

The Step Brothers : Step Masters

I hadn't played this album for a while and am not sure how the illness of this cut slid managed to be forgotten by me for so long! Evidence and Alchemist are both underrated on the mic, and Alchemist must get the biggest "WTF?" laugh for "flippin'... like things that flip" :) The energy in this track is much more than you'd think possible given that it's only about 91 BPM, which is a credit to the production from these two heavyweights. Oh yes - do have a genuine laugh at the video!

Alchemist & Prodigy : We Got This

I was sure that one of the samples from the previous track had been used by Alchemist before, and I was right! This version is from the "Chemistry Files" mixtape, but for the full version you'll need to find the bootleg 12" single that includes it.

Camp Lo : Love Is Love

Just the right tech-sounding track to fit this space in the mix! This wasn't even my favourite track on 2017's "The Get Down Brothers" but it's a great example of how Sonny and Geechi aren't afraid to jump on different kinds of beats and lace them with their trademark slang waterfall.

K-Murdock : New Religion

A friend of the show who is an endlessly creative beatsmith, and his "Soundscapes Vol.2" is a mix of video game-inspired beats and instrumentals from his work with MCs. I had this one playing in the house and found a good home for it here :)

9th Wonder ft. Skyzoo and Ness : Let It Bang

Closing with pure slick-talking battle rap here from the "The Dream Merchant 2" compilation, all produced by 9th Wonder, then only about five years into his career. The drums and bass definitely have the classic flavour of early 9th, as well as the great chop/re-purposing of a nice soul sample. It's all east on the mic, with Brooklyn's Skyzoo and Ness from Philadelphia (you may know him from Da Band) trading bars and telling us to play this until you break the tape - which I suppose gives away the age of the track...

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

[glorioustragedykid]

I mixed together two of my interests together