#and didn't keep trying to fiddle with this to keep it consistent

[burnthatbridge]

illicit affairs

buddie | E | chapter 1 of 8(ish) | 3k | just a boy helping his boy bestie figure out gay sex, with a side of infidelity This is how it starts: Buck goes on a date with Tommy. How it goes from there, Eddie can't even begin to explain.

Chapter 1: born from just one single glance

It’s in the aftermath, when Bobby and Athena are safe and being checked over and the 118 plus family and friends is piled in the waiting room as usual — they all have their preferred chairs with how often they’re here — that Eddie’s unfocused mild interest in this new guy who his friends trust, turns to sharp notice. 

Eddie has to step away to call Carla, to let her know they got Athena and Bobby, to assure her that he’s fine, Buck’s fine, they’re all fine. And then he spares an extra moment to text Marisol because he knows she’ll see the news soon, if she hasn’t already, and will worry.

After, when he returns to the waiting room, Tommy’s in his seat. Eddie doesn’t really have a specific one he favors so much as he always takes one next to Buck. So, it follows that, Tommy is now sitting beside Buck. 

When Eddie left, Buck’d been pale-faced, and shaky in a way he wasn’t when Bobby was missing and he had a goal to focus on. Eddie hadn’t wanted to leave him, but it was Buck who’d said didn’t he need to call Carla? Let Chris know they’re okay?

Eddie pauses across the room and regards the scene before him. Tommy is leaned in, chatting to Buck, making wide, expressive gestures with his hands as he does. Buck’s still more grey than pink in the cheeks and one hand is clutching the arm of his chair, but he’s stopped picking at the patch of peeling paint he’s about tripled in size over their past handful of waiting room residences and there’s a hint of a smile curling the side of his mouth, which had been a grim line before, waiting for the doctor to report back on Bobby and Athena, waiting to be allowed to see them. 

“He’s in good hands.”

Eddie starts at Hen’s words. She appears from behind him carrying two paper cups of what Eddie understands from experience is the worst coffee known to man. He used to force it down because caffeine is caffeine, but he can’t anymore. It reminds him too much of the three minutes and seventeen seconds that were some of the worst of his life.

read on ao3

[kkvqwrites]

Bedside Manner

Reader goes into labor while Simon's away and calls the first person she can think of. The task force (and some other friends in high places) rally around the couple on the most important day of their lives.

Word Count: 2,587

Characters (in order of appearance): fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Capt. John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kate Laswell

CW: childbirth, hospital setting, medical procedures

A/N: Am I a Ghost girlie? Absolutely. Am I also a sucker for the found family trope? Til I die. This idea wouldn't leave me alone and I'm so glad I stuck with it. I love the way this came out and hope you like it!

"Dear? Everything okay?"

The captain's voice on the other end of the line sounded worried. Both he and Simon had drilled it into you to never hesitate to call Price if you needed anything while your husband was away, but you couldn't help feeling a bit guilty.

"Um, I think so," you began, willing your voice to stay level and upbeat. "I think I just - oof.." Another contraction hit, stealing the air from your lungs. They were coming more consistently now, and hard enough to stop you in your tracks.

This could not be happening.

"What's wrong? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" You could hear movement in the background, him gathering his things to be out the door and on his way to you.

"I'm fine, John. I just didn't know who else to call. I think the baby might be coming?" The words came out pinched as you worked through the tail end of the contraction. The captain swore loudly.

"Stay put, love. I'm on the way - everything will be alright. Want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"No, no, that's fine. Stay safe and I'll see you when you get here." You hung up before he could argue and fuss like a mother hen.

______________________________________________________________

The knock at the door startled you. You looked at the clock - surely that couldn't be John already. The man lived across town. Not trusting yourself to make it to the door, you called out.

"It's open!"

Turns out it wasn't Price, but Gaz, who stepped into your living room and began taking in the scene. It was a sight to be sure: you, doubled over sitting on your yoga ball, rocking back and forth to try to alleviate some of the pressure in your hips, towel around your neck because you were sweating like a pig, ambient white noise filtering through the bluetooth speaker to keep you calm. For all his usual swagger and poise, Gaz looked a bit frightened.

"Kyle, did John call you? I'm so sorry - I'm sure you were busy-"

"Not at all, I rushed over as soon as I got word." The sergeant came to your side and knelt until he was eye level. "The captain's on his way but I was closer. We didn't want you to be alone any longer than necessary."

"You and your task force are worse than a quilting circle." The jab came with a joking smile, but the smile was cut short by the stab of another contraction. At the sight of your face screwing up in pain, Kyle's eyes got big.

"Can I do something? Do you need anything?" He wrung his hands as he fussed, seemingly unsure whether to touch you or whether you'd bite him if he tried. Admittedly, you weren't too sure yourself.

"Need you to reset - the timer." The words came out through clenched teeth as your muscles tensed and screamed. "Contractions - need to time them."

"The timer - right." He sprung into action, undoubtedly happy to have a defined task to accomplish. As he was fiddling with the device, Price stormed through the door, his demeanor all-business.

"Gaz? What's the situation?" The sergeant hopped to attention as if he was at roll call.

"Got here not long ago myself, Cap. Just reset the timer for contractions."

"Where are we at?"

"Thirteen minutes, sir."

The captain turned to you, assessing you from top to bottom. His expression and his voice softened considerably as he spoke.

"Ready to get to the hospital, love?"

"Can't - they told me to wait until they're five minutes apart." The man looked bewildered.

"And just let you sit here and suffer? Not on my watch. Gaz, grab my keys - "

"John," you interrupted. "I already called. They won't admit me yet. We just need to wait it out."

"Nonsense, love. You wait til I get someone's ear over there. Five minutes my arse." He moved to help you stand, but stopped in his tracks as he took in your face, your lip trembling. "Is there something else?" As if on cue, a fat tear rolled down your cheek, the first of its kind since the pains began.

"This isn't supposed to be happening," you squeaked out. "Not for a few more weeks. Simon's supposed to be here."

The men shared a glance, looking stricken. Price leaned down next to you, a broad hand gently squeezing your shoulder. His voice was soft when he spoke, a renewed slowness replacing his prior rushed pace.

"I know, love. I know it's not ideal, and I know you're scared. I know Simon would give anything to be here, that he'd split heaven and earth to be with you right now. But I also know he'd want you and your little one taken care of, yeah? He wouldn't want you to wait."

You nodded, despite more tears threatening. "Doesn't change the fact they won't admit me yet."

The captain's mouth quirked defiantly. "You let me worry about that. Gaz, help her up. I'll drive."

______________________________________________________________

Simon was tired down to his bones, feeling like a wrung out rag after the most recent mission. Despite that, the man was a ball of energy as he hopped off the plane, desperate to get back to you.

"Someone's antsy," Soap drawled, taking a more leisurely pace. He slid his sunglasses on as Simon switched on his cell phone anxiously. "Got somewhere to be, LT?"

"'Matter of fact I do - home." Simon impatiently hiked his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. "See my wife, eat a real meal. Finally build that godforsaken changing table. Who knew a baby needs so much furniture?"

Soap barked a laugh, but Simon tuned him out as he put his phone to his ear. He'd gotten a voicemail from you, and everything else ceased to matter.

"Hey babe, it's me. I'm not sure when you'll get this, and I hate to worry you. I'm sure it's fine. It's just... I've been feeling some contractions-"

Simon didn't hear the rest, nearly dropping his phone as he broke into a run.

______________________________________________________________

True to his word, Price argued with the hospital staff until you were taken up to a room. You were sure he must have pulled rank, threatened to call people, but he refused to let you worry about it.

The ride had been smooth, despite John driving like a bat out of hell. Gaz stayed in the back seat with you, clinging to your hand and fussing. Later, you'd think it was funny how he seemed to need more encouragement and support than he offered, but at that moment very little was funny.

You had been able to stay in denial for an admirably long time. The past few days, you were able to tell yourself it was just Braxton-Hicks contractions, not the real thing. That even when it became evident the real thing was starting, that it wouldn't progress quickly. That even though it was progressing, that Simon would walk in the door just at the right moment and sweep you into the car and off to the hospital and all would be well. Even when your gut told you to pick up the phone and call the captain, you had managed to make yourself believe that you were wrong, that it was a false alarm, that you still had more time.

Now, here you were, connected to monitors and being poked and prodded by nurses. Medical history, allergies, birth plan, you felt like you were in interrogation rather than a patient receiving care. And if it wasn't the nurses it was the two men standing off to the side, one wringing his hands in worry and one watching the nurses like a hawk and barking questions. The contractions were closer to eight minutes apart now, progressing quickly. Now the situation was very real, and as thankful as you were from the support from Price and Gaz, your heart threatened to shatter at the absence of the one person who mattered most.

______________________________________________________________

"Bloody fuckin' hell, no one will answer their phone!" Ghost barked, ready to throw his out the window. He'd had radio silence other than a second voicemail, this one from the Captain:

"Simon, Price here. Just got word from the missus that the baby's on the way. I'm headed there now. I don't want you to worry about a thing, I won't leave her side. I'll update you as I'm able."

"She knew to call the captain; he's probably with her now," Soap offered from the driver's seat. He'd practically had to arm wrestle Simon for the keys, but ended up convincing him that he'd be able to call for updates if he wasn't worried about driving. Silently, he thanked the saints Simon had agreed; who knows what carnage he'd unleash on the roads as worked up as he was.

"He better be, or I'll - not now, Laswell!" Simon rejected the third call from the station chief since landing and tried Price again. He was sure he'd hear about it for skipping debrief and jumping in the car, but right now he couldn't bring himself to give a shit. When Price's phone again went to voicemail, he was about to go nuclear when the car's Bluetooth lit up with Laswell's number.

"Shite; let me answer it LT." Soap pushed the button. "Laswell, it's Soap. Here with Ghost."

"I know," she said impatiently, her voice filling the space. "I've been trying to call all afternoon. I know what's happening and I'm here to help."

"What? How do you know?"

"Price called me as soon as he got word, asked me to find you. Anyway, you're wasting time heading in that direction; there's a lane closure ahead and you're about to be neck deep in traffic. I've mapped an alternate route for you. Take the next left."

The two men looked at each other in confusion before both starting to speak at the same time.

"Left? That takes us the wrong way-" "How do you know where we're at?"

"Boys! Boys, listen," she continued, exasperated. "Don't worry about how I know, just do as I say. We're gonna get you there as fast as possible. Now turn left!"

Soap cut the car to the left, ignoring the indignant honks of other drivers as he began to cut through the city under Laswell's watchful eye.

______________________________________________________________

"The doctor says you'll be ready to start pushing soon. How are you feeling?" The nurse was genuinely trying to be nice, so you bit back on your retort of how the fuck does it look like I'm feeling? My insides are exploding! and instead chose a weak smile and a head nod.

Once the nurse whisked away, Price was back at your side. You could tell by his expression he wanted to give you a pep talk like you were one of his soldiers about to head into battle, but he was searching for the right thing to say. You broke the silence first.

"I'm scared." Your voice sounded small, the words escaping almost of their own volition. The captain took your hand, blessedly avoiding sugarcoating the situation.

"I know. But you're doing great - a real trooper. Even with the needle in the back! Simon's gonna be so proud of you, love. And Gaz and I are gonna be right here. Right Gaz?"

"Right, Cap." The sergeant slid back into the room, cup of ice in hand. While the captain had taken point and begun advocating for you with the hospital staff and asking a million questions, Gaz had been dutifully making sure you were comfortable. Anything from getting you an extra pillow for your back, to helping you tie your hair back, to getting you ice chips since you couldn't have food or drink during labor, he was on it. If either man was uneasy about what was about to happen, they dutifully kept it under wraps and maintained their game faces.

One by one, the care team took up positions around you to get started. Price and Gaz got next to you, each taking one of your hands, ready to offer what support they could. You shamed yourself, one last time, for being ungrateful for their presence. A lot of people give birth with less, you tried to tell yourself. He’d be here if he could. 

 The doctor walked in, donning gloves and getting a quick status update from one of the nurses before meeting your eyes. “Evening, ma’am. We’re going to-” 

Her words were cut off by a commotion in the hall, a door slamming and what sounded like some raised voices. Everyone in the room exchanged confused glances, and Price motioned for Gaz to go investigate. He poked his head out into the hall for only a moment before returning with a big grin.

“You’re not gonna believe who’s here."

Then your husband was in the doorway, and then he was at your side, and suddenly those honey brown eyes drowned out every ounce of pain and fear you’d been holding onto, and that warm, calloused hand took yours, and you were ready.

______________________________________________________________

You would have thought it would be difficult to fall asleep under fluorescent lights, with monitors beeping and staff bustling around. But you had never known tiredness like this, and wanted to take the nurse’s advice and rest while the pain meds were still working their magic. The delivery had been uneventful once the show was on the road, and Simon never left your side, his steady presence grounding and his voice in your ear keeping you calm. Then there she was, a baby girl, the most precious tiny thing you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d stared at her and cried for hours, stroking her tiny hand and welcoming her to the world until you could barely keep your eyes open. And so, with a squeeze of your hand and a kiss on your forehead from Simon, you found yourself drifting off. You were aware, as you floated off, of his slow pacing back and forth with your newborn daughter in his arms, of his whispers to her that were too low for you to hear. Of the guys popping in, as unobtrusively as possible lest the lieutenant tear them limb from limb for disturbing you and the baby, bringing him food and coffee and admiring the bundle of joy.

“Doesn’t look a thing like you, Simon,” said Soap.

“Thank God for that,” he replied.

“You should have seen it, Simon really - needle this long, right in the spine!” Price remarked, not for the first time. “She didn’t even flinch.”

“I’m just glad you made it for the gross stuff,” mumbled Gaz.

“Kyle, you’re in the military. You’ve seen arms and legs blown off.”

“Completely different, Johnny. Not the same at all.”

On and on they bantered, brothers in arms stepping into their role as uncles for your baby girl with delight. One of the last things you heard was Simon, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, all of you, for being here. For today.”

“Oh come off it Simon,” replied the Captain. “These girls mean something to you, so they mean something to us. That’s what a family is. Now quit hogging her and let Uncle John have a turn.”

You wouldn’t remember this conversation when you woke up, wouldn’t be able to articulate where it came from, but you’d carry with you the bone-deep feeling of connection with this little makeshift family forever.

[blue--ingenue]

thomas grant and adam wadsworth scorbus moments that make me go feral

(all of these moments take place in toward the end after Scorpius asks Rose to be his friend on the staircase)

EDIT: i'm currently writing a fic about this scene. lemme know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for when it gets posted :)

Scorpius excitedly leaning into Albus' personal space (these boys faces were 3 inches apart) and Albus shyly laughing and fiddling with his hands every time Scorpius leans down

(we also know how averse Albus is to loud noises and invasions of personal space, so the complete trust and affection with which he allows Scorpius near him is so so sweet)

adding to the point above: Albus consistently flinches at loud, sudden noises and movements (flinching when James sneaks up on him, recoiling when James pretends that his arm is a snake about to strike in the opening scene, shying away to tuck into his parents' side when random fans of Harry, Ron, and Hermione try to wave to him at the station in the first scene)

Rose watching them gradually inch toward each other on the staircase and getting more excited the closer they get

(after Scorpius declares that his progress with Rose is something upon which to build his "Palace of Harmony") Albus panics and grabs his shoulders, stuttering as he asks "And that's who you'd want? In your palace of harmony?"

poor boy is afraid his best friend will fall in love with his cousin (sweetie, your cousin is literally rooting for you 5 feet away)

Albus panicking when Rose reappears, quickly standing up to avoid suspicion. even panicked, he can't bear not being in contact with Scorpius and keeps his hands on his shoulders

Albus' hands sliding from Scorpius' shoulders when he realizes that Rose knows

THE FACT THAT SCORPIUS IS COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS

Rose (possibly the biggest Scorbus shipper in the entire family) gently telling Albus "You know, this is only going to be weird if you two let it be weird :)"

Albus' little voice crack when Rose asks if he's okay

Albus: "What's this? I thought we didn't hug?"

Scorpius: "I wasn't sure whether we should...in this new version of us."

(I originally thought "this new version of us" just referred to them being older/wiser, but now I think the "new version" refers to their budding romantic relationship

[circe69]

I Wanna Hear You Say Something

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader

summary: ghost really likes your accent, and you really like his.

cw: fluff galore.

A/N: I have ideas for a part two. Lemme know if you want it sooner than anything else.

Edit: Part two is here:)

——————————————————————————-

Tonight, was your first mission ever. You were terrified, seeing as though the only people surrounding you were huge, loud, and dangerous men. They had been in this field forever, and you had only shot maybe a few targets on the head. You weren't met for this type of work, but your new general said you had a knack for sniping.

It was pouring rain, perfect, you thought. You pulled together some sort of outfit, grabbing a pair of heavy cargo pants that just hung off your hips, and a turtleneck t-shirt. They didn't offer much else.

All the sudden, you heard consistent honking outside your dorm. It was the boss, and the rest of your new companions in a large truck. You quickly grabbed your rifle, water, put on your combat boots and ran outside.

The rain kept getting in your eyes, making it hard to see, and you almost ran into the car door. Opening it with force, you jumped in the truck and landed on your hands and knees.

Wonderful. What a nice entry! is all you could think.

The man in the front seat turned around, trying to ignore your faceplant, and said, "Boys, welcome Y/N. She's a sharpshooter. Treat her like one of your own."

You stood up, face red, and dusted off the mud on your pants. You smiled at the general, silently thanking him for the introduction. As you took a seat in between men twice your size, you quietly said,

"Hello."

A few snickers from across the truck caught your attention, and the man sitting to your right said with his booming voice, "Oh great, we've got a clumsy sniper." He looked at you, and met your eyes with such sarcasm, all you wanted to do was roll your eyes, but his mask drew your attention away from your brewing anger.

A skull? Ah, so this must be the infamous Ghost.

You stared for a little bit, then dropped your head to your lap and started fiddling with your hands.

Your anxiety was probably visible from miles away. You never wanted to mess up, but you definitely didn't want to screw up in front of a bunch of men who already are skeptical of you. Men are terrifying.

Army men are even more so.

You started to mess with the gold ring on your middle finger, sliding it on and off, until a large hand abruptly grabbed it from you.

What is his proble-?

"Is it real?" Ghost leaned down and whispered in your ear. His voice. It was too sexy for his own good.

He messed around with it in the palm of his hand, being sure not to drop it. You said back, "No, but don't tell anyone." You winked as he looked up into your eyes.

"Ahh. I see", he whispered once again. You couldn't help but keep eye contact, even when softly grabbed your hand and slid the ring back on your middle finger.

Might as well exchange vows already, you smiled to yourself, and he noticed.

"You wanna know somethin'?" He said gruffly.

You hummed in response, awaiting his fun fact.

"I really like your accent."

Something about that made your heart jump. It jumped even higher when he rested his gloved palm on your knee.

"And you're gonna be fine. Tonight, I mean."

He spoke with such sincerity, it almost seemed natural to him, but he would probably cringe if you said that to him.

His fingers didn't move from your leg, in fact, if anything they were almost impossible to move. You smiled at him and put your hand over his, when suddenly the truck rolled to a stop, and you had arrived at your destination.

A few of the men had jumped out before you, including Ghost. As you neared the car door, Ghost grabbed your hips and pulled you out of the car. You gasped as he carefully let you down, and he yelled to be heard over the rain, "I didn't want you to fall again." You slapped his arm playfully and kept walking in front of him. He belly laughed behind you, and it made your stomach flood with butterflies.

You started jogging to take cover, and get a break from the rain, and followed close behind you. You had come across an old shack, the windows were busted, and doors unhinged, but it was enough to keep you dry.

Ghost took a seat on the floor behind you, resting his head on the wall.

"I'm tired of running in the rain, Y/N", he said sighing.

You giggled and nodded in agreement.

"I wanna hear you say something," he whispered in a low voice. He was a little out of breath, and you could physically see his chest rise and fall.

You took a few steps closer and kneeled down in front of him. You decided to tease him a little bit, so you covered your mouth with your hands and shook your head no.

He reached out and pulled your hands away from your mouth. He started spinning your ring around your finger as he gestured you to come closer.

"Please."

You were now straddling him, sitting directly on his lap and your hands were still enclosed in his, dropped down to his sides.

"What should I say?" you whispered, tauntingly.

He scoffed in annoyance. Right when he was about to say something, you snuck your hands up his torso, chest, and finally lifted his mask just enough for you to see his jawline.

You kissed his jaw lightly on one side, then breathed on his skin, "Oh, I know what to say." You kissed the other side of his jawline, and whispered, "I really really like your accent."

He grabbed your waist and started tickling you while laughing himself. He pulled you underneath him, so your back was on the wet floor, and he was caging you in.

"Good, well I'm glad we're on the same page."

[warriorofthought]

Litte Recruit

Summary:  Sergeant Bucky Barnes teaches recruits and maybe he has a favorite one.

Word count:  4438

Warnings: mention of gun’s

Sergeant Bucky x Recruit Reader

Tonight, you and other recruits gathered around Sergeant Bucky Barnes in the armory as he demonstrated how to properly inspect a firearm. “You must always ensure that your gun is in functioning order.”  Bucky said as he pushed two fingers in and out of the empty mag of the marksman rifle, his fingertips making a languid rolling motion within the aperture to check for any defects. “Rack the bolt several times.” As  Bucky’s large and manly hands expertly handled the weapon, your thoughts were in the gutter.

You shake your head to organize your thoughts but it's almost impossible.

Bucky's deep, baritone voice interrupted your daydreaming when he said, "You never know when you'll be caught with your pants down in the field," as he turned away and started moving down the line towards you. You gulped as Bucky's hands rested on your shoulder, a faint blush dusting your face as you tried to maintain composure and focus on the firearm demonstration.

Your focus is abruptly torn away when  Bucky moves his hand to the hammer. As his fingertips gripped the hammer, you had to fight the instinct to squirm with how  Bucky's touch made your body tingle.  Bucky noticed this and decided it necessary to make a remark as he pushed down the hammer to demonstrate. "The hammer, when properly cocked, should not shake or jiggle,"

"Not shake or jiggle" you whisper and nod.

"Indeed,"  Bucky continued, pointing at the trigger, "Your trigger pull should be slow, consistent, and smooth." As he lifted his hand away,  Bucky took note of the way your gaze followed each movement of his strong, masculine hands.

You try to focus on Bucky's speech.

Bucky's hands moved towards the top handguard, turning the rifle sideways to allow inspection from the muzzle end. "Your weapon must also be clean."  Bucky pulled a cleaning rod from his drop-leg holster and poked it down the barrel to inspect the bore.

Bucky's hands ran through his hair as he continued to lecture, his fingers playing with his locks. Your gaze is drawn away from the lecture when  Bucky's hands start to fiddle with the straps of your vest, his thumb pushing into the Velcro, "And always keep your gear in good working order."  Bucky looked at you pointedly as he adjusted the strap over your left shoulder.

You nod a little bit embarrassed that you didn't put it properly on.

Though you tried to remain focused, every movement of the big Shield Soldier was simply mesmerizing to you. You felt your cheeks heat up again when  Bucky put a firm hand on your shoulder. "Are you still with me, recruit?" He asked, his voice full of authoritative confidence and power.

“Yes, sir.” Your voice firm.

Bucky nodded, his hand sliding down your arm. Your body tensed, your pulse racing as  Bucky's hand gilded downwards. The Soldier didn't seem to notice as he leaned in to look at your ear piece. "And finally, you must always maintain situational awareness."  Bucky adjusted your earpiece and whispered something in your ear.

"You've been listening well tonight."  Bucky's warm, raspy voice sent a shiver down your spine when he said this directly into your ear. He pulled away quickly and put his hands in his pockets, a faint smirk forming on his lips as he looked down the line to the next recruit.

As you look around. You can see that no one has seen the little interactions between you and the  Bucky.

No one seemed to have noticed, and the Sergeant looked unphased by the intimate moment. The recruits were still entranced by his demonstrations, their attention fixed on his skillful handling of the firearm. After a moment of silence,  Bucky barked, "Alright, that's all for tonight! Dismissed!"

You quickly pack up your items in preparation to be dismissed. As you were about to leave, Bucky called out for you to stay behind.

On his call. You stand still and wait for the others recruits to leave the room. 

The other recruits leave the room after being dismissed by the Sergeant, leaving you alone with the big Shield soldier in the empty armory. "Come here,"  Bucky said, calling over to you.

You walk up to Bucky, feeling a little nervous at the way he was looking at you. The Shield Soldier leaned on the work table, his broad, muscular body nearly filling the narrow space. Bucky's gaze remained fixated on you, his blue eyes burning into yours.

You stare back at Bucky, the close proximity between you and the big Soldier making your heart pound in your chest. The faint scent of gun oil and cigarette smoke filled your senses as  Bucky's blue eyes looked through you.

"Is something wrong? " you ask hesitant.

"I have something to tell you", Bucky said in a low, sensual voice, "And it's important that no one else hears." As Bucky looked down at you expectantly, your breath hitched in your throat.

"Okay" you nod.

Bucky leaned in closer, a faint blush spreading across his weathered face as his lips brushed your ear, "I want you." He whispered, "All of you." Though his words were direct, the tone of his voice made your heart skip a beat.

"uhh…." You say speechless.

Bucky continued to look down at you as he waited for a response, his intense blue eyes taking in every detail of your face. The big soldier's gaze was unrelenting as he continued to study you.

"Why?"

Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly at your question. The big soldier remained quiet for a moment before he answered, "Because you're mine."  Bucky's words landed with a heavy weight in your stomach as he took a step towards you. His imposing presence made you shiver slightly.

You take a step back and your eyes lock with him.

Bucky's piercing gaze followed you as you took a step back. The big soldier took a step forward, pinning you between him and the table.  Bucky brought his hands to your arms and held you close, his hot breath caressing your neck. All you could do was swallow and nod.

"Maybe..... " You swallow and try to sort your thoughts " what about the other recruits?"

"I like you best,"  Bucky said, his hoarse voice filling your ears, "You're special to me." His hands shifted downwards towards your hips and his fingertips grazed your waist, "I want you to be mine."  Bucky pressed his lips to your neck as he said this, his big hands caressing your hips possessively.

"what when i don't want that?" you question confused.

"Don't think for a second that you don't love it."  Bucky pushed you against the worktable, your back pressed against its metallic surface as he leaned in. His lips kissed your ear and he whispered, "You want me. You need me." The big soldier's lips caressed your earlobe, his breath making your body tingle.

You breath quicken and your eyes flatter close. 

The big Shield Soldier stood back and looked into your eyes, his blue eyes smoldering with desire as he took in your flushed expressions. With a firm grip,  Bucky lifted you onto the worktable, his face move closer to yours.

"Sergeant " you whisper.

"Bucky," the soldier corrected, his lips never leaving yours, "Call me Bucky." As he brought his strong arms around your waist, "Only I get this from you."  Bucky brought you closer, his masculine body pushing you down on the worktable as his hands ran up and down your thighs.

Bucky used your vulnerable position on the worktable to keep you as close as possible as he brought his hands higher up your thighs. He squeezed and rubbed your soft skin, his raspy voice a mere whisper as he said, "You're so soft."

"You... You are so big " you stutter and nervously lick your lips.

Bucky chuckled as his lips left your ear and kissed your neck briefly. "That's why you love me," the big Shield soldier murmured, his grip tightening on your thighs. 

Then you heard footsteps and you froze 

Bucky stopped what he is doing and looked down at you.  When he heard the sound of footsteps, Bucky's body tensed and he moved quickly to cover you. "Shhh," he whispered, his eyes darting around the room as he tried to locate the source of the footsteps. As he tried to figure out who was approaching, his hands remained around your waist as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "You're mine, remember that."

You nod slowly.

Bucky kept you close as he tried to listen past the heavy pounding of the blood inside his ears. His raspy breath was warm against your neck, as he kept his body flush against yours. Though your mind was running wild with possible scenarios,  Bucky was hyper-focused on the approaching footsteps, his blue eyes shifting between the various doorways entering the armory.

As he continued to listen to the approaching footsteps,  Bucky looked back down at you and whispered, "Stay calm."  Bucky kept his body over yours and his hand over your mouth. He remained tense as he listened intently to the footsteps, his mind racing with thoughts of who may be approaching. His head was slightly tilted, his neck muscles tightening as he waited to see who might walk through the doors.

Your instincts took over and you quickly pushed Bucky away. As  Bucky stumbled back, your eyes went wide when a pair of footsteps entered the room. "Hello, Sergeant," the woman spoke softly as her eyes swept the room, "What are you doing in here so late?" As the woman looked around the room, she did not notice you hiding under the worktable.

You close your eyes for a moment and relax. Then you follow the action again.

You opened your eyes shortly after the woman entered, your eyes darting between the two as the woman's voice tried to allure the big Shield soldier.

"Hello, Bucky," the woman said in a sultry voice as she moved closer to him, "I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing in here all by yourself? You were so busy with the recent recruit training, I didn't want to interrupt you." The woman moved closer to  Bucky, her hand touching his broad shoulder and her lips moving ever closer to his ear.

Your eyes widen slightly. 

Bucky's eyes fluttered with surprise as he stepped back from the woman's touch. As his mind tried to process what was happening, the woman pressed her body against his and whispered into his ear, "Let's go somewhere more... private." She pulled him close and nuzzled his neck, her voice a lustful purr as she said, "Do you like what you see?"  Bucky was unable to respond, his voice catching in his throat as the woman continued to seduce him.

Your heart becomes heavy. You try to look away and hope that Bucky meant it seriously with you and does not respond to the woman.

Bucky took a step back and cleared his throat but the woman followed him, her voice becoming more desperate as she spoke, "You've caught me looking at you,  Bucky. You must have known I'd be attracted to a man like you?"  Bucky could feel the woman's warm breath on his neck as she looked up into his eyes and tried to kiss him. "Do you find me appealing?" She asked.

In Bucky's mind, you appear a scenario is playing out. How hurt you are by what he did.  In his mind he sees you ignoring him not looking at him anymore. When he lets other people touch him. 

The thought that you don't want him anymore, if he cheats on you now, hurts him. 

Bucky looked at the woman with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. As the woman continued to try and seduce him,  Bucky closed his eyes and pictured you ignoring him. The image hurt him as it drove home the reality of what was happening. Bucky's brain was filled with scenarios of you ignoring, avoiding, and moving on from him. The thought of him cheating on you hurt him deeply and made him realize the gravity of what he was doing.

In his mind,  Bucky began to see you more clearly as he pictured what you looked like when you were upset and distraught.

The thought of hurting you was not something Bucky could bear again, and his eyes widened with panic in his mind. He imagined seeing you sad, cold, and distant, and the image made him feel physically ill.  Bucky looked at the woman in front of him, his brain filled with thoughts of you as she slowly traced a line down his jaw, "Do I appeal to you? Do I make you feel good, Bucky?" The woman's voice was soft and soothing as she tried to seduce  Bucky, her warm touch on his skin making him shudder involuntarily.

The woman's touch feel disgusting for  Bucky. 

"Please stop,"  Bucky whispered, his eyes filled with discomfort, as he tried to move away from the woman. The big Shield soldier tried to push her away but she persisted, her grip on him tight as she leaned in closer, "I want more."  Bucky tried to get away from the woman but she held on even tighter, her hands running up and down his body as she spoke, "Don't you want this? Is my body not attractive enough for you?" Her words were a stark contrast to the feelings  Bucky was experiencing in his mind.

You can see the panic and discomfort in  Bucky's eyes. So you decide to help him. Unnoticed by the woman, you go to the door and then open it, pretending to enter the room. 

The relief was palpable in  Bucky's expression as his eyes locked with you when you opened the door. His face turned to annoyance and disgust as the woman continued to try and seduce him. He tried to push her away once more but the woman held onto him, running her hands down his broad physique and leaning in closer to speak in his ear.  Bucky was clearly uncomfortable and not comfortable with what the woman was doing.

"Sergeant, that's a training room. Such a thing should not be done here " you question as a recruit.

The woman turned to look at you with surprise, her lustful expression transforming into one of shock and horror. "But, Sergeant," the woman said, "Surely you're a man of action. Why not enjoy yourself? Why not take a pretty woman to your bed and enjoy something new?" As the woman's voice became more demanding, and her grip on  Bucky became tighter,  Bucky gave you a pleading look from the corner of his eye. "For God's sake,"  Bucky whispered, his tone quiet and tense, "help me."

"Even though I'm just a recruit, I see that, you, Miss. Cross the border of the Sergeant. Or should I get help. I'm sure you won't like it"  you say firmly. 

The woman's expression went from shocked to angry, "Help from who? What is a little recruit going to do about anything??" Her voice was stern as she looked down at you and moved closer to  Bucky. "I have everything under control," the woman hissed, her tone a stark contrast to your calm, polite demeanor.  Bucky looked over at you with a desperate look in his eyes and gave a slight nod.

"I can go to the general, I'm sure he will help with this." You prompt.

"And what will you tell him, little recruit? That Sergeant  Bucky was trying to enjoy the company of a beautiful, younger woman?" The woman leaned in closer and tried to whisper in  Bucky's ear, as her tone became more seductive and inviting, "Or will you keep your mouth shut and let us have our fun?" The woman began to inch towards  Bucky's lips, her breath warm on his skin.

"I won't go. He is uncomfortable with you."

"Oh he does enjoy me," the woman purred seductively, as her hands began to wander and explore  Bucky's body. Her expression turned to amusement as she continued to try and seduce the uncomfortable big Shield soldier. "He's just playing hard to get," she whispered, her voice an inviting purr as she leaned in closer to  Bucky's ear. "Don't you enjoy this?" The woman's warm breath was on his neck and her hand began to caress the bulge of  Bucky's muscular biceps. Annoyed you stand between the two. "Woman, you're breaking the rules."

The woman looked confused as you stood between the two but her seductive expression changed to a cruel frown as she responded, "Who are you to question me? A lowly recruit?" The woman looked back at  Bucky and continued to try and seduce him, her voice becoming more demanding and aggressive, "I thought soldiers enjoyed a good time with a woman. I'm trying to provide Sergeant  Bucky with some stress relief."

"He don't need a whore like you that don't know when's enough "

The woman's expression turned dark as she looked back at you, her face filled with a mixture of hurt and annoyance. "Excuse me?" She spoke sharply as she looked back at  Bucky, "Are you implying that I'm a whore?" The big Shield soldier looked back and forth between the two of you as the woman continued to attack you with her words, her expression full of anger. "A recruit... calling a woman a whore... do you know your place?" The woman took a step towards you and spoke sternly as she looked down at you.

"I know my place but clearly you don't " you say calmly.

"Well then, since you know so much," the woman said with a snide grin, "how about you tell me, little recruit, where is my place?" The woman looked at you as if she was daring you to respond, her tone sarcastic and mocking. Your calm manner, however, seemed to only exacerbate her annoyance as she waited for you to respond.

"Your place is outside this room" gently and reassuringly your hand points to the door.

The woman looked at you in shock as she processed what you said and took a step back, clearly offended. She looked back at  Bucky, her face filled with anger as she saw him looking at her with a stern expression. Her eyes suddenly widened as she looked back at you, her voice taking on a threatening tone, "And who is going to make me leave? You, little recruit?"

"When the Sergeant wants that, yes." your eyes stay firmly on her's.

Bucky's face remained stern as he looked at the woman. The big Shield soldier seemed to be contemplating your words a moment before he spoke up and said, "The recruit's right, I would like you to leave." The woman looked surprised as  Bucky spoke up, her expression turning into one of anger and annoyance. "And if I refuse to do so?" The woman's words were a stark contrast to  Bucky's, as she stood defiant in front of the big soldier.

"I'll help you out then" you say strongly. 

Bucky looked surprised when you stepped up for him, as the big Shield soldier was not expecting support from a recruit.  Bucky looked at you with a grateful smile, as he didn't want to have to cause a scene with the woman. As  Bucky's expression turned to a smile, the woman's expression transformed into one of anger and disbelief. The woman looked at you angrily and spoke sharply to you, "Little recruit, who do you think you are?"

"I'm a recruit, nothing else" you say calmly,  " you should go now." 

Bucky looked at you with gratitude and respect as he saw how you remained calm in front of the woman.  Bucky's eyes darted between you and the woman as he remained alert in case the situation escalated. The woman looked at you in annoyance and frustration, "A recruit is telling me to leave? Do you know who I am?" The woman shook her head and continued to look at you with anger as she spoke, "I'm not going anywhere."

" I don't know who you are, but I have treated you with respect. And I think it's time for you to go"  you say strict but calm

The woman looked surprised at your tone but remained defiant, "I don't think it's time for me to leave. I believe I'm making Sergeant Bucky very happy, and if he wants me to stay for the evening, then I will stay." The woman looked at  Bucky and spoke seductively to him, "Don't you want me to stay, sweetheart? Don't you find me desirable?" As the woman continued to try and seduce Bucky, Bucky looked over at you with a pleading look in his eyes.

You nod and gently grab the woman's arm and lead her out. The woman looked down at your hand on her arm with surprise, as she had not seen you move towards her. As she turned to look at you, she spoke sharply, "Don't touch me, little recruit." But your grip remained firm as you pulled her out of the training room and into the hall. Despite her protests, the woman couldn't stop you and had no choice but to follow your lead.

The woman looked frustrated as she was pulled out of the room but Bucky's eyes lit up with relief when he saw the door closed.  Bucky looked at you with appreciation as he spoke, "Thank you, little recruit."  Bucky's face was serious as he looked at you and spoke, "You did not have to step up for me."  Bucky's tone was firm when he continued, "I am a big boy, I could've handled her myself."

"I'm sorry if I've crossed a line" 

Bucky's eyes softened when he looked at you and he shook his head, "It's alright, little recruit. I appreciate your help."  Bucky's voice was calm as he spoke, the big soldier seeming like a different man entirely after the event with the woman.  Bucky looked at you with a grateful smile and continued speaking calmly, "You handled the situation well, I could tell she was trying to goad you into conflict."

"thank you, then i go now, good night Sergeant" 

Bucky's face suddenly brightened when you spoke, "Good night, little recruit."  Bucky gave you a warm smile, his voice soft and gentle, as if the previous events did not even happen. As you turned to leave,  Bucky spoke up to you, his voice slightly firmer with a hint of irritation, "And do not tell anyone about this."  Bucky's tone was still soft but there was a warning in his voice, his voice becoming more serious as he spoke, "Do you understand?"

"I understand, nothing has happened here," you nod. 

Bucky looked relieved when you responded to his order, his expression becoming more relaxed and calm. His voice returned to the soft tone he was speaking in before, "Good, thank you. Now go on, I should go back to my room before I run into more trouble."  Bucky spoke with a smile, seeming to have completely forgotten about the woman who had just tried to seduce him. But before he turned away,  Bucky spoke once more, "Thank you, little recruit."

As you walked away, Bucky watched you go, feeling a rush of emotions he wasn’t used to.. relief, gratitude and a strange warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He knew he should just let you go and call it a night, but something about the way you had stood up for him lingered in his mind.

Sighing, Bucky found himself wandering the halls until he eventually stumbled upon you again, sitting alone on a bench outside, gazing up at the stars. You looked peaceful, your face relaxed as the cool night air played with your hair. You didn’t notice him at first, lost in your own thoughts, but when he approached, you glanced up, startled but quickly relaxed when you saw who it was.

“Sergeant,” you greeted softly, a gentle smile on your lips. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Bucky shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Not really. Just... thinking.” He paused, then added “About tonight.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. “It’s okay, Sergeant. You don’t have to explain. I’m glad I could help.”

Bucky smiled, a rare and genuine smile that reached his eyes. “You’re a tough one, little recruit” he said, his voice soft with a hint of admiration. “Not many would’ve stepped in like that. You didn’t even hesitate.”

You shrugged lightly, feeling a bit bashful under his gaze. “You looked like you needed help. Sometimes, a little push from someone is all it takes.”

Bucky chuckled at your words, finding comfort in them. “You’re right. I guess I’m not used to people looking out for me.” He looked at you with an appreciative smile. “But you… you’re something else.”

He sat down beside you, the bench creaking slightly under his weight. You both stared up at the stars, the silence between you feeling natural, not awkward. It was quiet, but it wasn’t empty.. there was an unspoken understanding that made the moment feel right.

“Y’know, little recruit,” Bucky started, his voice low and thoughtful, “I’ve seen a lot of things in my time. Been through a lot. But someone standing up for me, like you did? That’s... rare.”

You glanced at him, noticing the sincerity in his eyes. “You deserve it, Sergeant. Even soldiers need someone in their corner.”

Bucky nodded slowly, mulling over your words. He reached over, almost instinctively, and ruffled your hair lightly, a playful gesture, one that spoke of a newfound fondness. “You’re alright, little recruit,” he said, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “I think I’m gonna have to keep an eye on you.”

You laughed softly, feeling a flutter of pride. “Guess that makes two of us, then.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, just enjoying the quiet night and each other’s company. Bucky’s hand brushed against yours on the bench, and instead of pulling away, he let it rest there, finding comfort in the small but significant touch.

“Thanks again,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”

“Anytime, Sergeant,” you replied, smiling at him. “I’ve got your back.”

And with that simple promise, Bucky knew that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d seek out the “little recruit” who had unexpectedly become his quiet source of strength. Tonight, sitting under the stars with you by his side, everything felt a little bit lighter, a little bit more hopeful.

[genovianxprince]

OK I think I understand some of why some people in the fandom choose to make Mystra some kind of a terrible, grooming abuser to Gale. It's because every one of the companions has like a specific person you can point to and say, that is the abuser. That right there is the person who has caused the companion grievous harm. Gale and Mystra are a little more complex than that.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel technically have a whole cult/culture backing up the abuse, but you can still pretty directly point to Viconia and Shar for Shadowheart, and ultimately Vlaakith for Lae'zel as well as just... every Githyanki she ever met, except for Kith'rak Voss.

Wyll has Mizora, Karlach had Zariel and Gortash, Astarion has Cazador, all very obvious and self explanatory in the game. They were innocent, kidnapped, coerced, sold, played like a damn fiddle. But Gale?

Gale has Mystra, a goddess he loves, who also loves him, and the things they did to each other were both fucked up, and a lot of the fault totally lies with Gale! The other companions all had external forces affecting them. Gale's was mostly internal. He refused to believe he was good enough. "As inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a goddess and I still wasn't satisfied." A literal goddess, the one he favored, the one he was in love with, who favored and loved him back, consistently told him he was perfect as he was and he straight up did not believe her. He placed himself on a higher and higher pedestal he could never reach the top of because if he wasn't constantly climbing to some nebulous goal of perfection, then could he be good enough for Mystra?

Y'know, instead of just believing the woman he was in love with. And I get it! Insecurities suck! Especially when you've been the gifted child your entire life, perfectly talented at something that all the adults in your life go nuts over. But also, it is extremely arrogant to assume you know better than your literal goddess and be like "yo, there's a missing piece of the Weave and I can go get it" like... Mystra is the Weave, she would have known and probably sent someone on a quest if it were actually Her Weave and not Karsus' Weave.

Gale is INCREDIBLY hubristic and he keeps falling for that trap. He's overconfident. Hell, even after his year in isolation where he comes out humbled, a small group of people believing in him for a short amount of time gets him to go "omg, crown of karsus = godhood, I can totally do that and tell the gods they SUCK and overthrow Ao's rules!"

Like, babyboy, no.

Of course, Mystra is not without some fault. After Gale's initial... Folly-up, she just ignores him for a year. Damn, girl, what the hell! Well. You see. The Netherese orb is a fragment of the magic that Karsus used to try to ascend and steal her throne with. The magic that she realized was going to kill everything if she didn't sacrifice herself. For a moment, all magic ceased to exist, including Mystryl herself, and Karsus died. Then Mystra came into being. Gale tells you a short version of this story himself! So it kind of makes sense that Mystra would see this shard of magic and just... kinda have a trauma reaction! And to gods, time flows differently. It wouldn't shock me to learn she didn't realize it had been a year by the time Gale left his Tower due to mind flayer shenanigans. Naturally, she does not want to discuss the thing she's so terrified of, and just tries to have it destroyed without her having to touch it—the plan to have Gale blow himself up on the Absolute itself, and she would save his soul. And even after he disobeys her instruction, she still allows the orb to feed on the true Weave! She still lets him live without fear of blowing up randomly, even though it greatly distresses her to let this magic that killed her once feed on her own life force.

Then he reaches the city, and reads The Annals of Karsus, and realizes she's going to have to explain, despite not wanting to. And she summons him. Tells him exactly what's in his chest. Asks him to turn over the Crown and she will destroy the orb and face her own trauma, because Gale... doesn't want to die. She understands that. And she still loves him and his big beautiful brain despite how stupid he's been, and she wants to have him as her Chosen again.

Things will never be the same, of course. They both fucked up. Gave each other a bad time. But in the end, they forgive each other and move past it. Not as a couple, because things broke too much for that. But they can have a healthy relationship as Goddess and Chosen once more.

And that is what sets Gale and his trauma apart from the companions. He doesn't have a direct abuser or live in a horrific abusive society. He almost killed the goddess of all magic a second time and she had an understandably harsh reaction to that, even if it was still too harsh. I just don't believe it's only Mystra who fucked up here. Not by a long shot. Much of it lies squarely with Gale.

And, as for the grooming allegations [as far as people trying to say it is canon], literally just no. She's a True Neutral goddess. Gale literally tells you that you are not his first mortal lover, he had a few before he ever fell into Mystra's bed, and you're just the first since the breakup about a year ago. The game doesn't shy away from sex and sexual abuse in the least. Why on Earth would this be something hidden behind several layers of nonexistent subtext? It's definitely fun for AU's, but by Ahghairon's lost nose, no, it's not canon!

[wasyago]

unsure if you’ve been asked this before but what is your character designing process?

i have already answered in this post (you can go read it if you want), though it's more jrwi based, so i feel like i can answer again! i doubt I'll end up saying something new but hwhatever who cares dhhdhd

obviously this isn't math, so there's no specific scheme i follow every time, and each design is different and it all varies heavily.

in general, when i start working on a design i already have *some* sort of idea in mind. normally not for the entirety of it, but some bits and pieces here and there that help me characterize the design in my head! i try to get those on the canvas first. they're like key points, and i most likely wont change them.

(and if i don't have an idea, i don't start drawing. and instead scroll through my gallery or pinterest in search of inspiration)

let's take my Gem's recent design as an example! i knew i wanted her to be a squirrel, and i already had squirrel scar and cub designs to base it off. so the key points were big pointy ears, curvy tail, claws. i also knew i wanted her clothing to look regal and floral, and reflect her main base. this is an idea that i haven't fully visualized, but i kept it in mind and knew in which direction i had to move.

after that comes the point where i start making stuff up 👍👍 i enjoy thinking my designs through and making them make sense in my head and be practical. so the process consists of me asking myself questions and then answering them in a design. with occasional "oh wouldn't that be cool" thrown into it.

continuing with gem. she needed to have her clothes be suited for a tail, so her underskirt splits in three parts to make it easier. i still wanted the design to be recognizable as gem and have it resemble her skin; so i kept the white sleeves, the green skirt, the corset. i wanted to make her and scar's designs match, so i changed the corset to green with this long piece of cloth but decided to change the patterns on it. because the brown from the corset was gone, i removed it from her shoes as well and made them black instead, so brown wasn't part of the color pallett anymore. i will introduce pink into the design later, so getting rid of one of the colors wasn't that big of a deal. plus, brown makes her look more down to earth, whereas i want her to look elegant and rich, so its a win/win. i wanted to keep her antlers, but obviously she's not a deer anymore, so i turned them into a crown and made it black to match the shoes. etc etc. i can ramble for three more hours about this hdgshsh.

well, that's how the well thought designs work.

sometimes it's just "im gonna draw all the things i think are fun and cute until i can't think of any" and there's no rhyme or reason to it. that's why things like "doc as a unicorn", one-off series designs, random concepts, aus exist!

sometimes its a "i have no idea what to do with it, so im gonna merge all the layers together and just keep fiddling with it until i figure it out", and that's exactly what happens. if i feel stuck with a design, merging it together and working with both line and color helps a ton, because it helps me to see the design as a whole and i dont have to divide my process and think of which parts im gonna do in color and which in line! recent example is hypno's design. here it is when i didn't know how to make it interesting and the final version:

(funnily enough i still like the first concept, the fact that all the clothes is the same color is quite tasty. but i know that if i needed to draw this design in the future, i would struggle with keeping the clothing layers separated and shading and all that stuff.)

visually i don't think there's much difference between how i design things (?), but the process varies and in my head they're all on like, different tiers.

hopefully this was somewhat helpful! if not it at least let me ramble about my design process which is great hdhsjsh

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 19

Find the series masterlist

I am so sorry this is late, life has been lifing me real good recently. I'm hoping things calm down a bit now and I can get back on a more consistent schedule again. Especially this close to the end of the story.

You and Gray have a little talk. This is not going to end well for you.

Warnings: Gray is Unhinged (and not in a fun way), sadistic character, sadism, lowkey psychological torment, spy shit, swearing, hopelessness.

Word count: 1.4k

All the air had left the world. Your eyes started to burn as you stared at Gray, brain working incredibly slowly. You breathed in, everything snapping into hyperfocus.

Gray. Gray was here. He’d found you. He’d found you alone.

You were dead. 

“Ace, now, is it?” he asked, conversational, as if you were old friends. He stepped up next to you, motioning you to walk a certain direction. He didn’t have a weapon in his hands, but you knew him too well.

He either had a gun on him, or he had someone watching from a discreet distance, ready to shoot you. 

You were so fucked. 

He paused when you failed to move, raising one eyebrow at you. Slowly. Letting you feel the weight of his judgment. 

"Are you really going to push me to use force?" He kept his voice low, still falsely pleasant. 

You eyed him. You had no idea how serious he was. You couldn't read him, fear clogging your brain, tinting your vision. So you took a step, a little slow, a little shaky. But you moved. 

And he smiled. 

"You gave me quite the hard time," he continued, matching your pace. "Finding you was more difficult than I had guessed." 

You swallowed hard, hand sliding into your pocket. Thank fuck your phone was on the opposite side from Gray. It took a moment of cautious fiddling, but you got it recording. Just in case. 

"I am impressed you have managed this long," he continued, still cool as anything. "I would have expected you to get yourself killed much sooner than this. But then, you did have help." 

You swallowed again. No. He wanted to make you scared, make you suffer. You needed to take some control back. Even if only a sliver. 

"What do you want?" You managed to keep your voice almost entirely even, only a slight waver at the end giving you away. But Gray already knew what kind of terror he instilled in you. 

He chuckled, turning the two of you down a different street. "Well, you've made yourself a bit of an obstacle again. You've done good work, I've heard all about you from a… mutual friend." He glanced at you, smirking, just to see that barb land. "But unfortunately, you also tried to get me locked away for life. I can't just let something so personal slide, you understand?" 

Oh you understood. You understood all too well. He had held a grudge all these years, and spotted the perfect opportunity to take you out and decided to take it. But if he was going after you…

"You've wanted me dead for longer than that," you managed, eyeing him. He still looked too pleased, too confident. It made you want to knock him down a peg or twenty. 

"Oh, that?" He chuckled, as if it were silly. As if trying to kill you as a child had been nothing. "Well, that was business, wasn't it? I was after your father's business, you were incidental." He paused, watching with barely concealed glee as you struggled to hold down your rage. "Until Laswell took you in." 

Horror washed cold down your spine, smothering your anger in an instant. Laswell. If he held a grudge against you, he certainly held one against Laswell. And she was here, she didn't know he was here. 

If only you had a way to tell her, to warn her. To keep her safe, the way she'd kept you safe years ago. 

Almost as quickly as the horror, a kernel of relief settled in your heart. She was surrounded by the 141, and the others. She was safe.

Much safer than you, at any rate. 

"Oh don't worry," Gray soothed mockingly, cruel glee lighting his eyes when you glanced at him. "I haven't forgotten about her! In fact, I have something special planned for her as well." 

You swallowed. He sounded too gleeful about that. You had always remembered him as being cruel and cold, but this? This was a level of cruelty you hadn't seen before. He was unhinged, deranged. Enjoying your fear. Enjoying taunting you. This was somehow worse than you had imagined. This wasn't just killing you, this was torturing you first and enjoying every moment of it.

You didn't remember this from your childhood memories. 

"So, where are we going?" You knew you wouldn't get a proper answer, but it was the first thing that popped into your mind that wasn't panic or protective screaming for him to leave Kate alone. Your fingers twitched against your phone. Oh, Kate. 

He smiled, amused and condescending, and stopped next to a car. A plain black sedan. You could have snorted at it, in other circumstances. For now, you just stopped a couple steps away. A bodyguard stepped out of the driver's seat, walking slowly around the car. Giving you a good look at the glint of a gun under his jacket. 

You could have laughed, if you weren't so scared. This felt like old time mob shit. Your life had turned into a movie. 

"You'll find out, soon enough," Gray said as the guard opened the door. He slid into the car, sinuous and easy, those cold eyes locked on you with glee.

You had no real choice here. If you tried to run, you'd be shot. If you got in the car, you were just as dead. It would just take longer. 

Gray knew it too. He was enjoying this, enjoying watching you struggle. 

But if you got in the car, there was a chance. A very slim chance, but still a chance. 

"You know they'll find me, right?" You asked, voice deceptively mild as you shifted your weight. Biding your time. Trying to draw out any further information for the recording. 

"Who, your new friends? Task Force 141?" Gray laughed, soft and cruel. Your heart jolted at the realization that he knew exactly who he was dealing with. The guard shifted, taking a half step forward, though he did not reach for you. "Oh yes. I know all about your new friends. SAS. You got your fingers into some very interesting pies." Gray smiled, cruel, dark. You could all but see the blood in his teeth from tearing people apart. 

You shivered. Just once. But that was enough - he latched on to that moment of weakness. 

"There are only the four of them," Gray continued, almost gently mocking. "What are four men to me? Four more lives? Bah. Nothing." He leaned forward, closer to you, lowering his voice to a menacing murmur. "Their lives are worth nothing to me, except the suffering their deaths may bring you." He paused a moment, purely for effect. "If you live that long." 

Rage and horror warred in your veins, running cold, keeping you rooted to your spot. You needed to keep him away from John. Away from Kate. Away from the others. 

"So. They can try," Gray finished, showing far too many teeth in his smile. "They can try."

You swallowed. He was very confident in all of this. Of course he was, he'd had years to plan out his revenge. Nobody even knew you were missing. They would have no real clues to go off of, no way to find you. 

And he knew too much. About the 141. About Kate. 

About you. 

You were going to die. 

Shivering now, you ended the recording and finally stepped towards the car. The guard moved away from the door, apparently content to let you get in and close the door yourself. 

Which worked well for you. As soon as he was around the car, you got in. And dropped your phone in the grass next to the car. 

The door shut between you and the outside world, muffling the noises of the city. Muffling everything. The air was thick in the car, tense. 

The engine turned on, rumbling quietly. You looked out the window as the car started to move and risked one last look at your phone, sitting in the grass. 

They wouldn't find you. They probably wouldn't even find your phone. 

You were alone. 

Maybe it was better this way, if you could keep Gray away from them. 

Swallowing hard, you set your trembling hands in your lap and looked out the window, silence thick as a blanket settling over the car. 

You should have told John how you felt about him. 

You wouldn't have the chance, now.

[skullhorn59]

Heavenly Hell 2

A/N: second chapter! no spicey here just yet. sorry!~ im not that good at writing yet. xP Tags/Warnings are added progressively, design changed/fixed with time. mostly proofread! Summary: you have always been a fan of the show Hazbin Hotel in your life - and as you are spawned in a Hell identically matching the Show, you can't believe your sheer luck. you're immediately on your way to eagerly meet the celebrities (at least they are in your world), but your arrival hadn't gone unnoticed... Pairings: Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk x Fem!Reader Warnings/Promises: self aware and insecure Reader, Spoilers for the Show, Vox, Attempted Manipulation, successful Manipulation

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

"so, tell me, what useful information could you, someone this new to hell, possibly have?"

Vox sits down and leans back in his chair, watching you with a bored expression on his screen. urgh. right. he probably watched you spawning (arriving?) in hell. this is gonna be a hard one to explain. fiddling with your fingers anxiously, you look everywhere but at his screen.

you already regret coming here first, and not getting yourself a fidget toy first or something. or some pills to help keep your anxiety down. shit, you probably look scared out of your mind right now. he's gonna think you're really weird and rude if you speak up like this. or straight up lying. but for fucks sake - you can't bring yourself to look directly at him.

instead - you take in your surroundings. Vox's office. you only know it's impressive size from the Screenshots of the show, and literally sitting in it now is even more impressive. it consists of a gigantic room, an equally gigantic shark tank below, and a big round platform in the middle, which is connected to the door with a long passway. no idea how this could possibly fit into the tower without having it collapse from the sheer weight of the water alone - the only logical answer would be it being underground.

your eyes wander back to the platform, which is decorated with Vox's emblem. illuminated by a bright array of screens behind it, a round control pult sits at the back end of the platform. infront of it in a spinny chair with it's tips pointing upwards, is a rather impatient looking Vox seated.

oops.

you better get to answering his question.

you clear your throat and swallow, unsure how to even start. thankfully, you get your own chair - manifested with a wave of Vox's hand - to sit into. hoping you aren't sweating too visibly right now, you collect your thoughts. if you know one thing, it's not to sell yourself short.

"well, you see, that's hard to explain. and, you, as the head of.. technology.., surely understand that information is a valuable resource. I can't just.. give it away for free."

taking a deep breath, you lean back a little, trying to at least look more relaxed than you actually are. nervousness isn't even close anymore, like, are you panicking already?? well, at least you can mask it pretty well, you think.

"but I can say this much: I have so much information on Alastor," you think you hear a slight glitch coming from Vox at the mention of the name, "and the others in the Hotel, it's not even funny. Just.. I have a few small questions for you first."

a short glance up into the TV Demon's face tells you he raised an eyebrow. is he interested?? you hope he is. with all you got.

"go on, ask your questions."

wait. isn't he usually more talkative than that? nono, you can't spend a thought on that right now. you need to focus.

"When did the last extermination happen?"

"about a week ago."

"okay.. any interesting or unexpected turns of events? I just have to know what happened and what didn't. I-I know this sounds cryptic, and maybe even crazy, but I need to know at what time I got here."

silence fills the room for a moment. you dare to glance at the Overlord again, and he musters you with an expression you can't quite place.

did you mess up?

But Vox interrupts your thought before you can continue it. "... the hotel members fought back against the Angels, and won. that's all." relieved, you let out breath you didn't realize you were holding. okay. that's good to know. so the extermination already happened. it makes a good bunch of your information useless, but still. you can work with that. now you just need to-

"I think I provided enough information to you now," the Overlord begins, interrupting your thoughts again. his voice is oddly sweet. "its time you return the favor, my dear." - of course, he's trying to get the info out of you without paying for it.

how greedy.

you adjust your position on the chair, crossing one leg over the other, before looking directly at him. he's wearing his signature smile, his digital eyes looking  almost affectionately at you, but you know better than to trust the façade he put on.

"I told you, I'm not going to just give it away for free. And don't even try to fob me off with stuff like any of your products, pins, an autograph or similar worthless knick-knacks. That won't work on me. Trust me."

you glance at him again to gauge his reaction, and he seems surprised to hear you use his own slogan against him, but he quickly regains his composure. good. now just don't get any hypnotizing ideas, Vox...

"No, what I want is... actually quite simple. I want to be able to come and go to the entirety of this tower how and when I please. and.." you can't help a small smile at the thought of the Moth Man, "I want to see Valentino. preferably after our conversation."

and again, silence fills the room. you watch him tap the armrest of his chair with his fingers, thinking about your demands. you can't tell if he's going to give in to them or just declare you as crazy and throw you out, but you hope dearly it's not the latter.

just as the silence begins to get uncomfortable, the TV Demon clicks his tongue and stands up. your eyes dart up, and you automatically stand up too. what's happening? is he gonna throw you out now? - "alright. I accept. you may come and go freely, I'll get you your meeting with Val, and in turn, I get all the information you got on the Hotel and it's residents. Deal?"

Staring down at the hand he holds out, your mind whirls for a moment, overwhelmed with the action. you never thought he'd also make deals like Alastor - another detail they're matching each other in. you always thought he'd just somehow get peoples souls with sneaky contracts being signed when buying a Voxtek product or something.

as soon as you take his cold hand, he gives yours a firm shake, his smile widening to a grin as his face glitches momentarily. bright blue electrical currents and sparks begin to flow around the two of you for a moment, together with an intense blue light and a metallic screech. but as soon as it came, it's gone, and before you can waste a thought on it, Vox lets go of your hand, instead placing his around your shoulders as he guides you towards the door. "fantastic. now that that's done, how about we go check if Val's got some free time for you, hmm?"

you're confused.

doesn't he want your informations now?

on second thought - you don't mind too much. this way you have more of a reason to stick around and return.

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist

─❲♡❳▷Main List

[beezz-are-buzzing]

A Helping Hand

Pairing- Nate doe x fem!reader

Summary- Nate loses his virginity

Warnings- subby!Nate kinda, just smut really. 1.3k words

This is based off of @hysteria-things and the anon on her blog. I hope y’all like it.

“What secret are you keeping from your brothers?”

A helping hand

“What secret are you keeping from your brothers?”

“Hmm, oh, I know when I was 12, I accidentally broke Nick's vinyl and blamed it on Chris” I answer with a small giggle, remembering the memory.

“Okay my turn, what is your favorite sexual experience” I ask, watching as Nate’s face immediately turns red, and he starts to fiddle with his hands.

“I'm a virgin” he replied shyly.

“You can't be serious. You, Nathan Doe, are a virgin. You’re lying” I scoff with a laugh.

“Stop laughing” Nate whispers, trying to hide his red-tinted cheeks. Sliding closer to Nate on the couch, I gently lay my hand on his knee. Placing my other hand under Nate's chin, I force him to look into my eyes.

“So you're telling me that you, Nathan Doe, have never had sex. Has anyone ever given you a handjob or wrapped their lips around your pretty cock huh?” Nate gulps as he quickly shakes his head no.

“You know I can help you out with that. Is that something you would like baby” I ask. I'm keeping my eyes on his own. Holding in my laugh as Nate starts to eagerly nod his head.

“No baby, I need your verbal consent”

“Yes please help me please” Nate whines. A quiet whimper escapes his throat as I gingerly slide my hand up his thigh to rest on the tent forming in his sweatpants.

“Tell me, Nate, what exactly do you want from me?” I question slowly, starting to rub him through his pants.

“I don't know” he forces out in a breathless whisper. His eyes squeeze shut as he focuses on the pleasure of my hand.

“Come on, baby. You know what you want, tell me or I’ll stop” I demand bringing my hand to a stop.

“No no no I’ll tell you, I want you to suck me off please” Nate pleads.

“There you go, baby. I knew you could do it” I praise as I give him a small kiss to test the waters. Pulling away Nate chases my lips. Finding his nerve Nate uses his hand to bring me back into a feverish kiss. Breaking apart, I lean back to quickly pull off my tank top. My nipples immediately pebble from the slight breeze flowing in from the window of Nate’s Treehouse. Nate’s eyes immediately fall to my breasts as his jaw drops open a little bit.

“Do you like what you see baby” I tease before reconnecting our lips. Distracted by the feel of Nate's lips, I almost didn't notice the way Nate brought his hand up to gently cup my breast, causing me to moan softly into his mouth. Breaking the kiss, I slide off the couch to settle on my knees between Nate’s parted thighs. Sliding my fingers tips into his waistband. I look into Nate’s eyes loving the way I can see the silent plea in his eyes begging me to continue without making a sound.

“Are you sure you wanna do this baby?” I ask softly. A smile spreads across my face as he immediately starts nodding his head with yes and pleases spilling from his lips.

“Lift your hips baby” I softly order pulling his sweats and boxers down his pink cock springing up to slap against his clothed stomach.

“Fuck Nate I was right you do have a pretty cock” I whisper as I spit on my hand before starting to stroke his hard cock. I watch as Nate throws his head back and lets soft moans and low groans escape his throat. Leaning in to kitten lick to the tip. The whimper that came out of Nate’s mouth had me squeezing my thighs together. That whimper gave me the right amount of encouragement to wrap my lips around the pink head. Slowly sliding his cock further into my mouth slightly gagging when the tip hits the back of my throat.

I start to bob my head up and down, using my hand to stroke what I can't fit in my mouth.

“Fuck go faster please” Nate begs causing me to move faster. The slight shake of Nate’s thighs and the consistent begs of Please tell me that Nate is close. Pulling away from his cock leaving a small kiss on the tip. I see a silent tear run down his face. Frustrated from his ruined orgasm.

“Oh, it's okay baby don't cry. You get to cum I promise” I tell him as I stand to my feet. Placing a sweet, gentle kiss on his lips. I wipe the tears from his cheek. I stand back to slip my leggings and panties off my legs.

Straddling Nate’s lap, I begin to slowly grind my hips down. Coating his cock in my juices. Trailing kisses down his neck, I bring my hands to the hem of his t-shirt.

“Let's take this off” I whisper as I lean back to take his shirt off.

“You know you can touch me right” I say as he guides his hands to my hips. The confirmation was all Nate needed to grip my hips, forcing me to grind down harder and faster. He leans forward to capture a nipple in his mouth, causing me to throw my head back in a moan.

“That's it, baby, you got this” I gasped out through the pleasure. Pushing Nate back by his shoulders, I crash my lips into his with desperation. Reaching to grab his cock beginning to rub the head through my wet folds. Lining him up with my entrance, I get ready to sink down.

“Wait what about a condom?” Nate breathes out.

“ I'm on the pill. Is that okay?” I ask, looking into his eyes. With a nod of his head, I start to slowly sink down. As I reach the bottom, my head falls forward onto Nate's shoulder.

“Fuck Nate you feel so good” I moan out as I begin to rock my hips up and down. Nate’s grip on my hip tightens as he throws his head back, a soft moan slipping from his mouth.

“Nate fuck, tell me how it feels. Does it feel good” I demand, trying to hold back my moans as I speed up the movement of my hip.

“Yes fuck it feels so good faster please” he begs using his hands to try and get my hips to move faster. I can feel his thighs start to shake under me.

“Are you close baby hmm” I tease him.

“Here touch me right here,” I tell him as I guide one of his hands down. Showing him how to use his thumb to rub circles onto my clit.

“God Nate, you're doing so good. Keep going. I'm close please” I plead as the movements of my hips become uneven and slower. leaning my forehead back down on Nate's shoulder, a surprised gasp leaves my mouth as Nate suddenly stops his assault on my clit to grab both of my hips to begin thrusting up into me.

“Nate” I moan as the sudden movement causes me to tip over the edge. My orgasm triggers Nate’s as he spills his warm seed into me, holding my hips tight against his as he moans into my neck.

keeping my head on Nate’s shoulder, I sit still for a moment as I catch my breath.

“Let's get cleaned up okay” I breathe out before slowly standing up and grabbing Nate’s shirt to wipe down both of our thighs. Nate pulls his boxers and sweats up as I start to get dressed.

“How was that for your first time” I jokingly ask sitting down next to him covering us both up with a blanket.

“It was good thank you” he whispers pulling me into a quick kiss.

“I can’t believe you just lost your virginity in your tree house” I giggled, causing Nate to laugh out loud.

Well here is my first fic on this blog so I hope you enjoy my writing but if you don’t my asks are open for feedback.

[theinnerunderrain]

Enigma [Capitano x Healer! Reader]

[drabble • Yandere themes]

+

The reason you keep eyeing Capitano has always been an enigma to him.

Capitano had been conditioned to detect even the faintest of movements, like a rodent creeping across the walls at the height of dawn, so it was simple to recognize that you were drilling holes in his skull continually. However, you would frequently become red as a tomato whenever he returned your gesture and turned to look at you.

You struck Capitano as a curious critter.

One who was overflowing with vigor and warmth, so radiant that you resembled a beacon of light bursting within the Snezhnaya mountain. While some could argue that the language he used to characterise you wasn't particularly true, that you were just a simple woman trying to get by, and that he was just insane.

He didn't care.

He never gave much consideration to what other people thought of him, especially when it came to his personal life. Even yet, it does irritate him a little to hear people criticise you, and he makes an effort to ignore it, especially if it's someone who is working for him. However, despite Capitano's generally high level of patience, these kinds of people seem to irritate him quite quickly. Therefore, when it came time to punish them, he did not see it as his fault. The punishment may consist of him burning their lips or force them to stoop down in the icy snow of Snezhnaya without any outerwear.

They were given numerous opportunities, didn't they?

He took the necessary precautions to make sure you never learned about these penalties, and he made sure these individuals remained silent out of fear that you would start to dread him and look for other employment options.

You're staring at him once again.

When he notices your eyes are fixed on him, he puts down his sword and tilts his head slightly back. It takes a moment for you to realise that he was staring at you before you awkwardly turn to the side. A small blush appears on your skin as you realise that you were discovered, fiddling with the sleeve of your robe before standing up and rushing out of the tent.

How humorous.

While he is sceptical that he will ever comprehend the reason you are staring at him so earnestly every single day without fail and at every sunset.

To be honest, he didn't mind. Although he would never say a word, he enjoyed the scorching sensation of your eyes remaining fixed on his back as you peered into him. That you were only focusing on him offers him a certain sense of satisfaction.

That the only person in whom you actually had interest was him, not his henchmen, not a colleague, nobody else besides him.

Just him.

[italianhomosexuality]

rant to me (i like the sound, i like your voice) on ao3

“Nico! You're finally here!”

The ever too-chipper voice took Nico out of his thoughts. He had plans that consisted of brooding and staring, but it seems like Will Solace didn't think that behavior is appropriate for a party.

If whatever it is that's happening can even be considered a party; the Apollo cabin and some other campers decided to get together near the lake, with some soda cans, Doritos bags, and sour gummy worms. There's some music playing and chatter going around, but Nico's foam earplugs do a great job at keeping the volume low enough so that it's not overwhelming. He plays with his fingers, practicing the alphabet in sign language. Tatiana, a daughter of Nemesis, was hard of hearing. Nico became close to her since both of them would usually sit in the shadows, a few feet away from the crowds. It was easy to be around her, and he was making an effort to learn sign.

Will's voice was a little muffled by the earplugs, but taking them out would be much worse. Nico just gestured towards him, pointing in a general direction that is a little further from the noise and confusion. Will understood, because of course he did. They walked a few steps in silence, and Nico didn't bother correcting Will that he'd been here for a few good minutes now, he just didn't want to interrupt Will's conversation with Connor.

He wasn't wearing his usual orange shirt; the blue fabric suits his eyes and looks nice under the moonlight. Nico knew he's clad in cargo shorts and flip-flops without even having to look down—that's what he wears all the time, even when Nico thinks about him before going to sleep, when he thinks of the two of them under the soft orange of a sunset, sharing McDonald's fries, maybe making jokes, hands just one or two millimeters away from each other, itching to touch, aching to be intertwined…

He couldn't afford to think about that right now.

As they reached a tree, Nico offered Will a sweet smile. They were far from the crowd, watching from a distance so that they could hold a conversation even with the earplugs. It's the little things Will does; the accommodations, the giving, the gifting, the understanding, the treating him as an equal that makes Nico have some thoughts that he'd rather keep to himself.

(“Nico, I've noticed you wince and flinch when it gets too loud. What do you think of trying some earplugs? They might help. I wear them sometimes.”)

(“Nico, can you come body double me? I need to clean the infirmary and I can't do it if I'm just there by myself.”)

(“Nico, I have bad days too.”)

(“Nico, would you mind hanging around for just a little longer? I had to treat a head injury today. I don't think I'll ever get over it.”)

“Have you been having fun?��� Nico asked, feeling the deep rumble of his voice in his chest. He only now noticed how Will's eyelids and cheekbones seemed to sparkle and glimmer under the moonlight. Lou Ellen must have been experimenting with makeup again.

“Yes! It's been good.” Will raised his voice just enough so Nico could still hear him through the earplugs. It's the little things, Nico's brain supplied.

“How was your day?”

After a lot of practicing with other campers, Nico realized that he enjoyed asking questions. They were an easy way of navigating a conversation and he had a premade list of questions to use in any social setting. For the most part, he asked and listened, keeping only a few bits of information, glancing at the other person's forehead and nose bridge occasionally to mimic eye contact. With Will, however, he didn't have to overthink. He'd ask, but because he actually wanted to know. He'd look at the ground while paying the most attention he's ever paid. He'd fidget and fiddle with his necklace, humming and nodding, while storing every single bit of Will's stories, stitching guides, camp rules, and so much more.

“It wasn't that great, if I'm being honest,” Will said, picking at his fingernails, “but I've been managing. It was just… hard. At the infirmary. Being by myself.”

“You could have asked me for help,” Nico said, swinging back and forth on his ankles. “I didn't do much today. I could have at least been around. Make you feel less lonely.”

Ever since Will started opening up about his mental health and struggles with himself, Nico found it easier to do so, too. Some campers thought of the Head Counselor of the Apollo cabin as this perfect, do-no-wrong, ever-happy, feel-good Care Bear. Will played the part really well, having fooled Nico at the start, but then he understood. He saw the insecurities, the blood—Will's own—pooling and drying around his fingernails, the teeth marks on the bottom lip, the nervous ticks that would come out after an especially long day. Sometimes, though their wounds were far from equal, Nico felt as if he was looking into a mirror. Maybe not a mirror, but a murky reflection on a lake. A resemblance, something similar enough to his own, but with different shapes and jagged edges.

So, as Will listed his fears and how he wished so, so badly he could be someone else, Nico felt comfortable enough, for the first time in his life, to revisit his self-hatred and coax it out for a walk. Will took it and acknowledged it, but didn't yell at it or scare it away. It was almost as if he said, “Hey, I have that, too,” and Nico finally understood the many meanings of the word gratitude.

Nico never thought he'd be able to help someone feel less lonely. He'd also never thought he'd withstand a party—a get-together—just to catch a glimpse of blonde, defined curls and butterfly-blue eyes.

It's the little things.

“I know what you will say, but…” Will caught himself, stopping mid-sentence. “I didn't want to be a bother. A hypocrite, I know, but this happens sometimes. I'll try to not let it happen again.”

“Good.” Nico smiled, feeling the warmth from inside.

It was warm enough that he'd ditched the aviator jacket, but he still kept the jeans. The breeze coming from the lake was a nice touch to the night. He looked down, finding a spot dry enough for both of them to sit, and reached out to tug at Will's hand.

He couldn't pinpoint when he had gotten so… used to physical contact. When he had started to initiate it, even. But then again, he couldn't pinpoint when Will had become Will.

Will took the hint and sat down right beside Nico, scooting closer to him so that the skin on his calf touched the black denim. It was a common position to them. Comfortable. Nico's back didn't hurt as much and he didn't feel pressured to maintain eye contact. Will got to relax his posture and relax his legs from standing all day.

“Do you want to talk about what happened today?” Nico initiated, fingers tapping on his knee. “About what made you not have such a great day.”

No one had ever ranted to Nico. They were always afraid he wouldn't care or that they would be putting too much on him, as if he were a thin, fragile table, built to break at any point. Will didn't.

So Will said, “Yeah, I think that will help,” and started.

Nico listened.

He made sure to store every tidbit of information in his Will Solace-shaped mental drawer. He would remember, in the future, that the infirmary had a shortage of darker-colored band-aids, and he would point it out next time he and Will went supply shopping. He would remember, in the future, that Kayla had offered Will coffee with hazelnut creamer and he drank it all so as to not dismiss her, but he actually hated that flavor.

(Nico already knew that. If he wasn't having his coffee black, french vanilla was the go-to.)

He would remember how Will's fingers flexed as he told Nico how he had to patch up this new camper, almost as if he was going through the motions again. He would remember how Cecil's comment about his off-tune singing while washing his hands post-procedure made Will's heart sting, though he was used to the mockery, but it just hadn't been a good day. He would remember that Will hadn't slept well that day because the sheets had been recently washed and someone had used fabric softener on them, causing the texture to be plastic-like and that it made Will's skin itch. He would remember, and he would fight against every part of his brain that forced him to forget.

Once Will deemed his rant finished, Nico finally looked at him. He looked… pretty. The golden hue that came from the sun was perfect for Will's features, but the silver complimented him. It was the missing part. It hit his skin and bounced right back, catching on the glitter on his eyelids, cheekbones, and cupid's bow, making the chapstick on his lips shine a little more, exposing the chipped pink nail polish on his fingernails.

Nico didn't think boys were supposed to be considered pretty, but most common rules made no sense to him, anyway. Will was pretty. Accepting that fact had been complicated enough. He would not put up a fight against his thoughts.

“I like hearing you talk,” Nico confessed, straightforward as always. “The sound of your voice is very calming, like a stream of water. Constant.”

“That was a very sweet compliment, Nico,” Will replied, smiling wide. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

In the background, the party was still happening. Nico could hear laughter, cans being opened, fire crackling, stomping, soft tones and chords. But Will was next to him, seemingly not wanting to go back to the crowd, so he just settled into his makeshift seat a little more.

Maybe, in the future, Nico could ask Will if he liked him back. For now, he'd rather keep making a list of the little things. Little by little, he could have Will. He just needed some time to build up courage. Maybe, in the future, Will would slip out his ideal love confession or first date.

Nico would remember.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Uncanny Valley: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: Therapy isn't something you're taking too well, but if you want to keep your job, you'll continue to go. you're forced to confront thoughts and memories of your own family when you come across the father of the unsub.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

If drugs are being used, then a doctor might know something about it that the team won't. Rossi calls in a doctor who is around all different types of drugs to get a professional opinion on the case.

"So, doctor, if a diabetic were given this battery of drugs to keep her paralyzed, what would the reaction be?"

"Diabetics metabolize everything they consume differently which includes drugs. It all gets broken down to blood sugar at varying rates. Most likely, this patient seized up minutes after she was medicated."

"You're saying she's already dead?"

"Probably. Although, there is another possibility. Bethany's condition could break down the drugs faster than the other victims. She might regain control of her body. Every hour that she doesn't turn up is a reason for hope."

"We're still running out of time. If the drugs don't kill Bethany, she's not gonna last long without insulin."

You and Spencer take it upon yourself to talk to a collector to try and get into the mindset of someone like the unsub. There is a store in town that is owned by a collector who likes to sell some of his things and give them to other people who are collecting the same things he is. Spencer breaks down the situation you're in without giving too much information away. He's still a civilian who doesn't need to know police business.

"Look, collectors are good, honest people. Just because you enjoy dolls doesn't make you a freak or a pedophile."

"We appreciate that sir, but the woman that we're looking for has lost her ability to control her obsession. She's killed three women trying to recreate a type of doll she had a child."

"Describe the line to me."

"There's a pattern to the victims. They're all in their twenties and petite."

"Most doll lines revolve around infants. Is she dressing them like babies?"

"No, she's not." Spencer looks at you to see you studying the things he has in his store. You're not touching anything but you are fiddling with your fingers as you look. "Their wardrobe consists of chiffon dresses worn by one blond woman, a redhead, and a black woman."

"Is she sewing the dresses herself?"

"How did you know that?"

The store owner goes around the counter and takes out a big book of dolls. He flips through the pages to the ones he thinks are the ones the unsub is trying to recreate.

"It's the Valois line. They were a local company back in the late eighties. They promoted feminism and multiculturalism. Strong, independent girls from different backgrounds who could still be friends."

"Y/N, check this out." You walk over to Spencer and study the contents of the book. "Each doll has a birth certificate to fill out, a form to describe their lives, and a kit to sew your own clothes."

"JJ said she's been at this for a while. She's probably been sewing since she was a little kid."

"Wait a minute. Sir, what's this contest that they held?" Spencer asks when he sees an ad in the book.

"That was to see who could come up with the most imaginative doll. Sew a dress and write an essay to describe her. If you won the contest, you'd have your doll featured in next year's line."

"That didn't end well, did it?"

"No."

"It's a classic tool child psychologists use. Tell me a story with these dolls sort of way."

"When the company got essays with thinly veiled references to physical or sexual abuse, they turned the entry forms and the dolls over to the police. The publicity killed the line."

"You said the company was local, right? They might still have the clothes in evidence."

The detective was able to get the dolls that were in evidence once you asked him to. By the time you got back to the station, Derek was reading some of the essays while JJ and Emily were inspecting the dolls. You used to have a doll like that when you were a child. Your dad gave you one to dress up with doll clothes. You didn't have the skill to sew and it's not like your parents were gonna do that for you.

You grab one of the dolls and think back to your childhood. You got a lot of dolls, in fact.

"How are the essays going?" Spencer asks Derek.

"It makes for some pretty depressing reading. Prentiss is having a good time."

"Hey, these dolls are like little time capsules only eighties fashion wasn't so kind to them. I'm surprised how many little girls knew how to make shoulder pads. How's it going on your end, JJ?"

"I got a list of vendors the victims went to--tailors and seamstresses, that sort of thing."

"JJ, you said something about a handkerchief hem, right?" Emily asks.

Emily shows her the hem on some of the clothes on the dolls.

"That's exactly like what she sews for her victims."

"What's the name on the entry?"

"Samantha Malcolm."

"She's on my list," JJ says.

"Wait a minute, guys. I have her essay around here somewhere." He looks for it. "Right here. 'Sally doesn't like the room with the lightning.' That can't be good."

You take out your phone and call Penelope to get information on Samatha.

"Okay guys, I just got Samantha's medical records. Oh, my god, she was doomed. Like Emily Bronte doomed, like Shakespeare doomed."

"What happened to her?" Hotch asks.

"Right. For the first ten years, nothing. Then, she starts a battery of electroshock treatments."

"At ten? Who subjects a child to ECT?" Spencer wonders.

"That would be her father, Dr. Arthur Malcolm. He runs an inpatient mental health facility for troubled young people called New Lives. At first, the essay that Samantha wrote raised some flags, but her father explained that the therapy was to deal with the recent death of her mother. After that, he started her on a serious regimen of anti-psychotic drugs which he weaned her off of a few years ago."

"It explains her familiarity with medication. Where is she now?"

"Her father declared her incompetent so he's still the legal guardian. Everything is in his name, and all of her records list New Lives as her residence."

"She can't keep victims in an inpatient facility. She needs privacy. Garcia, what about real estate holdings in her father's name?"

"Just his own, but New Lives has a bunch of outpatient and halfway houses all over town."

"JJ, where does she work?"

She checks her list. "I have her placed at three different shops around town."

"Alright, let's split up and cover the shops and the facility."

"I want to go to New Lives," Spencer says. "Whether or not she's there, I want to talk to the father. There are literally hundreds of therapies to help kids through loss. Electroshock is not one of them."

"Take Rossi and Y/N," Hotch says.

Rossi drives both of you to Arthur's facility that's right smack dab in the middle of town. You step out of the car and feel the sense that someone is watching you. You look around and know Samantha is out there. She's close whether on purpose or just passing through.

"What is it?" Spencer asks.

"She's here. I feel her. I can't find her, though."

There are too many people walking around that her energy mixes with everyone else's. Rossi takes you two inside and gets approval to talk to Dr. Malcolm. The second you see the doctor, you freeze in your steps. He becomes blurry through your tears but neither Rossi nor Spencer notice you. Rossi begins explaining the situation briefly but you can't hear the words coming out of his mouth.

"I am very confused, gentlemen. What does this have to do with Samantha?"

"We need to talk to her. Is she here?"

"No, she's at work."

"Does she live here or did you move her into one of your halfway houses?"

"As a matter of fact, she is in one of my houses."

"We'll need the address."

"I need to know what this is about."

"She might be tied to a series of abductions."

"That's not possible. It's not my daughter," Dr. Malcolm shakes his head.

"Is Samantha on her own at this house? There are no other patients, right?"

"She thought that was best and I agreed."

Rossi looks back at Spencer and notices the painful look on your face.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

Spencer turns to look at you and grabs your hand to which you squeeze. The feeling and energy you're getting from Dr. Malcolm is the same one you got from your rapist. It's similar to the same feeling you've been getting with your dad recently, but you're not going to open that door.

"I know a child molester when I see one."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You subjected Samantha to electroshock therapy when she was ten. The effects of that would be permanent, especially at that age but you knew that, didn't you?"

"My wife died when Samantha was ten and she never recovered. I tried everything. Child psychiatry and pet therapy. Nothing helped. She was cutting herself. She was in pain. But I want to go back to the part where you're accusing me of being a child molester."

"Really? Okay. I noticed you have toys in your office. Why are they here?"

"I use them in my therapy."

"I understand that, but why are they on the top shelf away from where any kids can reach them?"

"They're reminders of patients that I've helped."

"Okay." You grab one of the toys from the shelf. "What was the name of the girl you helped with this one?"

"Jenny Larson."

You grab another one. "This one? What was the name of the girl you helped with this one?"

"Abigail Moore."

"How about this one?"

"Linda Krauss."

"I'm assuming these girls are nine or twelve, right?"

"My PhDs are on the effect of trauma on prepubescent girls. I do not appreciate what you're implying," he glares.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm making an inference. An inference is an educated guess, and based on that, I form a hypothesis. For instance, my hypothesis here is that after you raped your daughter, you submitted her to electroshock treatment to make sure she stayed quiet."

"This is outrageous!"

"Then, out of guilt, you bought her toys. More specifically, you bought her a line of dolls. Because that's what serial molesters do. They give gifts. So, you continued the pattern with your other patients and once they left your care, you added their toys to your collection."

You pause to think about your own situation. Your father gave you a bunch of toys to keep you happy. Maybe there is no correlation and you're reading into but you'd rather not think of your own father in that light.

"I'm sorry, you can't back up your story, Agent."

"This is why I love my job, doctor," you laugh. "The jury is your peers and the witnesses will be Jenny, Abagail, and Linda. The DA will put them on the stand and I'm going to personally bring these dolls in. We'll watch how they react." You start to raise your voice and slam your hand on his desk which scares him. "Not to mention your goddamn energy painting a not-so-pretty picture of you fucking these girls!"

Spencer pulls you back to help calm you down and Rossi steps in to take over.

"Or you could tell us where your daughter is, and we'll tell the DA you cooperated. Once we walk out this door, that deal comes off the table."

You turn to leave the room and Dr. Malcolm says something right before Spencer can leave.

"2529 Adams Street. You'll tell them, right? That I cooperated?"

"Where are the other toys? The collection isn't complete," you glare.

Dr. Malcolm has no choice but to give them up. He gives you the dolls he took from his daughter, the ones that made her start kidnapping in the first place. Rossi informs the rest of the team where to go, but Spencer thinks it's best if he goes in first. Samantha is mentally unstable so she needs to be approached delicately and carefully.

Spencer goes in knowing he can talk her down while you go in so you can help the girls she's taken.

"Samantha?" She is in the middle of taking care of her victims and she gasps when she hears Spencer's voice. As he is talking to her, you have your gun out and trained on her. "My name is Spencer and this is Y/N. We're with the FBI. I know what your father did to you, and I want you to know that he can never, ever hurt you again."

"He never touched me," she shakes her head. "He's a good father. He loves me."

You say the same thing about your father.

"I know that he probably forced you to say those things. He'd punish you if you got it wrong and send you to the room with the lightning."

"Yeah," she nods.

"The dolls that your father gave you after he hurt you, what would happen to them?"

"He kept them in his office with the other toys, but when I moved out, I had to take my friends with me. I couldn't leave them behind."

As he keeps her talking, you slowly move to the right to get closer to the girls who are begging you with their eyes.

"Of course. When you went to get them, what did you find? He gave them to another girl, didn't he?" She nods emotionally. "Do you want them back?"

"He said I couldn't. He said they were gone for good."

"He lied. He's been lying to you for a long time. Do you want to see them?"

"Can I?"

"Yeah." Spencer reveals he has the box of dolls and she immediately goes over to him. This is when you put your gun away and tend to the girls. "Do you want to play with them?

"Don't worry, you girls are safe," you say.

You take out each IV tube from each of the girl's arms. If they could cry, they would. Bethany is the one with diabetes so she is able to move a lot more. The drugs Samantha gave her wore of quickly.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"It's clear. We need medical in here," Spencer says into his earpiece. When the team comes into the house, Samantha panics that she isn't going to see her dolls again. "Hey, Samantha? You need to go with these men but your friends can go with you, okay?"

"They won't take them away?"

"I promise no one will ever take them away again."

She is taken away but she is happy because of her dolls.

"Well done, Agent Reid."

"Thanks."

Rossi goes over to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder for comfort.

"Are you okay?"

"No," you whisper painfully.

Another job well done. Another successful case. It doesn't feel that way. It feels like the world is caving in on you and you can't get to safety. You dread going to sleep but you know you have to at least try. Maybe this time you won't have another nightmare. That's the hope, right?

You're back here again. You're back in the same nightmare. The same car is on the side of the road where you're walking. Someone grabs you from behind. Who is it? It doesn't matter. You scream out for help. You kick and fight to get away. It's no use. Whoever grabbed you has a tight hold on you.

Help! Someone help! Anyone! No one is coming to help you. You're all alone. Spencer stands on the other side of the street just watching. Help! Spencer, please! He doesn't do anything but stands there watching you get dragged into the car.

Spencer!

"Y/N, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

You gasp awake and look around the room to make sure you're not actually inside that car. You're covered in sweat and tears.

"Spencer?"

"I'm right here. You're okay."

"No, I'm not," you sob. You turn over in his arms and cry into his chest. "Please make this stop."

Spencer is heartbroken for you. He doesn't know how to help and it's killing him.

"In life, unlike chess, the game continues after checkmate." - Isaac Asimov

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[stranded-labyrinth]

Will remained in the other room, adjusting the things on his fly-tying desk for the next morning.

It was their first night in the new house, and he would rather not have to dedicate his morning to reorganizing his things.

That, and maybe he was stalling.

The house only had one room, and while he of course didn't mind, the premise was still nerve-wracking. They had only shared a bed previously out of necessity, and while he thought that if they each got their own afterwards he may actually go insane, even getting what he wanted felt daunting.

And so he stood in his sleepwear, which thus far consisted of only the boxers Hannibal had already seen him in a million times, and he fiddled with his tools.

He sensed the presence in the doorway before he could see it.

"Coming to bed?" Hannibal asked with all the casualness in the world.

"Yeah," Will answered, "one sec. Just need to-"

And he turned around, his words catching in his throat.

He didn't know what he expected Hannibal's nightwear to consist of. Maybe intricate silks, maybe a robe.

He at least had expected a shirt.

He could already tell that his face was burning as his throat went dry, and he quickly turned away, trying to focus on his desk.

He heard a soft chuckle behind him, and then footsteps padding over to him.

Before he could turn, he was turned. Hands on his waist angling him to look Hannibal's way once again, a hand rising to cup his face and keep that look on him.

"Will, it is only us," Hannibal said, far more gently than the situation felt. "You are allowed to enjoy me."

Will's wide eyes remained locked in Hannibal's gaze, unable to look away. Not to mention that if he did, he was sure he would look down and end up focusing on the thick patches of silver hair that dusted over his chest and-

"It is our first night here. The bed is unused, and rather cold," Hannibal said, his voice very nearly being laced with a pout that made Will's spine tingle. "Am I to sleep in the cold? Or will you keep me warm?"

Fuck.

Will's face felt as though it was on fire, and he seemed physically incapable of getting words out.

The cue was rather amusedly taken, and that godforsaken hand never left his waist, even as the other took Will's hand to guide him to the room.

At this rate, Will wasn't sure how Hannibal would react to him trying to get out of bed for his fishing trip early tomorrow.

He couldn't wait to find out.

[nicosraf]

angels before man is one of the most beautiful books i ever read. so i have to ask : do you have writing advices for those who want to start writing ?

i tend to write down some scenes when i have an idea then give up, or be unable to find the entire plot, or feel like my style is too repetitive and unoriginal (especially because english isn’t my first language),…

Hello! Thank you so much!!! Okay so I'm really hesitant to give writing advice but I think something that is pretty universal is that finishing a story/book is about discipline more than it is about creativity or anything else.

A lot of writing is pretty boring! It's descriptions and setting up plot points for later and writing characters walking through hallways.

When I wrote my first book, I gave myself the rule that I wouldn't go back and read the draft as I wrote it. Yes, I realized I was writing in plot holes and the style wouldn't be consistent if I didn't look back, but that's okay. The most important thing is to finish a draft, and if you keep looking back then you're going to want to keep fiddling with your first chapters. Once you're done, you can start revising it to death - fixing the plot holes, making the writing style consistent, and etc. If you can't save it, then rewrite it. Don't think about style until it's done. Just focus on getting words down !

For finding the plot, I tend to think about my ideal word count, then deciding how many scenes I can fit in. For choosing scenes, I ask myself a couple things: What is the purpose of this story? What do I want to reveal about the characters? Where do I want it to end up? Or, what would be cool? Sexy? Shocking? Weird? What's a cool location?

Also, steal. If you're struggling to come up with a plot line, you can try to see how books and movies you love schedule their plot beats. When do things get revealed? When does the main couple fight?

I outline and I recommend every writer give it a shot, so please try that!

Also, please write for yourself. Don't think about what others will think or about impressing anyone or disappointing someone. Write whatever concept is fun to you.

But above all, be displined! Yes, I know writing can feel like pulling teeth out, but just get it down and tell yourself to fix it all later. Especially when you're writing in another language, please don't worry about your first draft making any sense or you'll burn out.

I hope this is helpful! Writing is just so hard but I'm rooting for you. Good luck!

[blueeyedrat]

Steam Next Fest, summer 2024. At this point "hey look at some video games I think are neat" is the one thing I'm still writing about consistently. Maybe I should branch out a little more. A matter for another time.

With the summer event lining up with a whole bunch of game announcements and showcases and whatnot, I cast a wider net and landed some pretty solid catches. Some that were already on my wishlist, some that caught my eye during the week of showcases, some I found while browsing the Steam listings. Additional thoughts under the cut.

From the moment it was announced it seemed like Arranger was a game that existed for me specifically, and trying the demo has done nothing to dissuade me from that notion. Likewise, LOK has held my interest for a while, and I'm looking forward to falling down its abstract word puzzle rabbit hole. Other puzzle games like Townframe, Pup Champs, and SCHiM met my expectations, but I'd like to see if there's more to them than what was presented in their respective demos.

On the subject of expectations, Tiny Glade is pretty much exactly as advertised as a cute little building tool, though the demo is somewhat limited in what options you have available. Tiny Bookshop was a bit of a curveball; the core loop of the game involved minimal input and waiting for a day's work to play out, but everything built around that loop had way more depth than anticipated.

Of everything I tried out, Wander Stars was the most stylish of the lot. An episodic turn-based RPG, where your arsenal is a dictionary of words to assemble into flashy maneuvers. It's a pretty unique spin, and the "pilot episode" in the demo does a good job showcasing both the gameplay and narrative. I had an eye on this game before, and it may be moving up the list quickly.

Beyond These Stars and Airborne Empire are both sequels to city builders I've previously played and enjoyed, and both launched demos for this event… very early, kinda buggy demos, so I wasn't really able to dig into them much. I didn't really need the concept proven to me, though, and they both seem like the final product will have all of the things I liked about their predecessors, so I'm happy for now.

Undusted seems like it could be a pleasant game about cleaning and fiddling around with handheld objects, a slimmed down variant of Powerwash Simulator, but in practice it's a bit finicky and not particularly rewarding, so it fell a little flat. Simple Trains just ended up feeling like a less interesting version of Mini Metro.

For more positive comparisons, Lost and Found Co. seems like it doesn't stray far from the mold of hidden object games, but has some very charming presentation that made it worth the time. Constance wears its Hollow Knight inspiration on its sleeve, and it looks like it could be a pretty solid 2D 'vania in its own right.

On Your Tail presents an interesting mashup of genres. A sandbox game set in a sunny Italian village with sites to explore, activities to partake in, and a colorful cast of characters to meet… paired with a detective story about pursuing a master thief and solving a myriad of mysteries along the way. Both sides of the game have potential (solving a mystery through a board-game-esque abstraction of cards and game pieces was particularly charming), though I wish the demo had more of it to show off. We'll have to wait and see.

Neongarten and Technotopia each caught my attention for similar reasons, being minimalist builder puzzles centered around balancing various building types and keeping pace with ever-growing resource costs. They diverge in subtle ways, from artstyle (though both are striking, Neongarten is simplistic cyberpunk while Technotopia leans more heavily into art deco) to gameplay direction (Neongarten stacks buildings upwards in a confined space, while Technotopia sticks to two dimensions and expands outwards), but my thoughts on both are more or less the same. They're a bit restrictive at times and there's a lot to keep track of, but overall they're both enjoyable. I bet someone could put together some absurd combos and ridiculous high scores in either game… though I'm unsure if I'm that someone. Still, they both have their charms and might end up as hidden gems in an ever-growing genre.

And of all the games that weren't already on my radar until last week, I think Caravan Sand Witch was the most pleasant surprise. It reminds me of Sable in all the best ways — a world of sprawling deserts and forgotten machinery that's as pleasing to look at as it is to traverse. Even in the demo, it felt good to get around both on foot and by vehicle, and that's without all of the fancy tools you'll unlock as the game progresses. This is one I'll be keeping an eye on.