#Yeah hi it's been. A mostly awful couple weeks (with the exception of the con)

[nubcatnoises]

Thank god Oranges 7 is the last one bro I am so sick of drawing Aoi

[the-bjd-community-confess]

More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

/s

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous 

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Bite (Part One)

Summary: Peter’s team is invited onto a big case in which their involvement will have serious consequences.

Word Count: 4,529

A/N: The summary is vague and doesn’t include the request, because the request itself would give away the ending. This fic was supposed to be a oneshot, but the plot was largely left up to me and I had an idea I thought was fantastic. I didn’t realize it was going to become so long. I think this is part one of three. Anyway... enjoy?

           “Yikes,” you said with a level tone. “Always wear a hard hat, I guess.”

           Ruiz glared at you. “You think this is funny?”

           “Calm down,” Hughes raised his voice to talk over Ruiz and he gave you a hard stare that said not to aggravate the visiting agents. You put your hands up innocently. It wasn’t your fault that Ruiz had such pressable buttons.

           Ruiz glared back at Hughes for all of half a second before he realized he wasn’t going to win that fight, and he used his clicker to make the projector move to the next slide. The crime scene photo went away and was replaced with a candid photograph of a white man in a snug polo with shades over his eyes, hair gelled back.

           “Look, the culprit is Caffrey’s dress sense,” Diana snickered. She earned grins from yourself and Jones and Neal scowled at her from the other side of the table.

           “I resent that.”

           “All of you, shut up,” Hughes commanded, a vein in his forehead looking particularly pink. Everyone from the white collar unit listened and the unit chief gave an aggravated wave of his wrist towards Ruiz, whose agents were all looking either plainly amused or secretly amused and trying to hide it. Neal had always gotten under Eric’s skin, and so did everyone who took Neal’s side by extension. It was funny to see how bent out of shape he could get in such a short time.

           Ruiz clenched his jaw and it looked like he ground his teeth while getting his temper under control. “Seamus Brady,” he said angrily. You still weren’t sure if he was morally outraged by the suspected murderer, or if he was just still being fussy about being ordered to invite Peter and his team onto the case. “43, American, with friends in Ireland and Wales. This bastard works hand-in-hand with suspects on Wall Street we haven’t been able to bag yet, managing a private company and swindling his investors.” He fixed his eyes on you and glared. “Henry Wallace was goin’ to take him to court next month before he ended up with his head bashed in.”

           You just looked back at him. Working in law enforcement, you saw a lot of people do really awful things, and if you let every violent crime get you down, you’d never have been able to do your job for this long. You weren’t going to feel bad for not breaking into tears instead of quipping during the uncomfortable silence following the completely context-free reveal of ugly CSI pictures.

           “You think Brady took Wallace out of the picture because he knew he was going to go down for it,” Peter urged Ruiz to continue, and, because they rarely saw eye-to-eye, Ruiz sent him a disgruntled look before resuming.

           “I’m damn sure of it. Now that Wallace is gone, there’s no one to press charges. Problem is, Brady has got near a dozen people corroborating his alibi for the night this happened, but does that look like an accident to you?”

           “Have you considered he didn’t do it?” Diana asked seriously. “Some people are really unlikeable. It can make a lot of enemies.” You got the distinct impression that she was referring to the number of people in the room who wouldn’t mind popping Ruiz in the jaw once or twice.

           Ruiz glared at her next. The guy needed to loosen up. “I’d consider it if it was worth the time,” he said shortly. “Everyone supporting his alibi’s suspected of getting cuts of his profits.”

           “Ah, the old “you knock mine, I’ll knock yours” method.” Neal nodded with his nose wrinkled in distaste. It was an increasingly commonly-known way of getting alibis to discount a motive, but mostly, the artist had never thought highly of violence, or anyone who resorted to it.

           “Looks like,” Ruiz grudgingly acknowledged. “But instead of waiting for the turnabout, we want to lock this monster up before more bodies start dropping dead in Queens. I’ve already talked to him, so I want your boy to go undercover, Burke.”

           No one commented on the way he referred to Neal. Infantilizing and deriding were pretty much the norm when it came to Ruiz’s interactions with the ex-con, no matter how civil Neal tried to be, and now everyone had stopped batting an eye because it would only fire him up more if you did. Neal certainly didn’t appreciate it, though, and neither did Peter.

           “You just showed us all a picture of the last guy who threatened him,” Peter objected, pointing up at the projection screen. “I can’t send Neal into that without a good plan in place.”

           “I’d prefer you didn’t at all,” Neal interjected dully, looking very aware of the fact that his vote didn’t really count.

           “We got a plan,” Ruiz told Peter, his nostrils flaring from the quick and negative response. “You think your team’s the only one that does any field work? Nah, Burke.” You and Diana both looked at each other at the same time, wondering if Ruiz had intended to rhyme or not. The organized crime agent clicked his remote and the projector went to the next image – some fancy-shmancy residence for the rich you’d never be able to afford to spend a night in, much less live indefinitely. “Every other week these dirtbags get together. It’s probably where we got the best chance of getting something incriminating on them.”

           “So you want Neal to somehow get invited into that high-as-heaven loft and wear a wire,” you predicted, finishing the plan for Ruiz and crossing your arms. Neal mirrored you, also crossing his arms, going off of your tone of voice to figure out that you didn’t like the plan and deciding to lend his support to anyone interested in keeping him out of it. “That’s a long-term op. They have to build rapport before anything happens.”

           “Unless we apply some pressure,” Peter theorized, and immediately, Neal uncrossed his arms and looked at his partner, wounded, as though he were thinking how dare you get on board with this?

           “Let’s be careful where we go applying pressure,” Neal requested pointedly, “Because pressure can be deadly. Especially for me.”

           “It’s good-cop, bad-cop,” Ruiz puffed, putting a hand on his belt. “A crook goes in looking for a legit, high-profile, high-payoff job and a fed makes it seem like the bureau’s gonna get our guy unless he moves faster than we can,” Ruiz finished, ignoring your interruption. “Guy knows the crook’s history, knows he’ll take a risk for a heftier profit, knows he’s got the skill to do it. He takes the chance, except the crook’s on our side, tapped and live.”

           “We’ve done some really similar ones,” you said thoughtfully, recalling a particular case where Neal had gotten himself hired as a political fixer while Peter filled the role of an obstinate, dogged cop. The pressure Peter put on the dirty politician led the man straight to Neal, who, under an alias, pushed things in the right direction. It hadn’t gone exactly to plan, but it had ultimately worked out.

            “It’s this or the guy walks.” Ruiz looked at Peter and almost dared him to disagree. The man had a very aggressive way of cooperating with other agents and you were tempted to ask if he’d ever considered being less of a hardass. Maybe people would like him more. “Chatter says he’s gonna be takin’ a trip out of New York in the next couple months. We don’t try now, we may never get this chance again.”

           Peter didn’t answer right away, looking at the loft on the projector screen and thinking deeply. As you had remembered, the last time this scheme had been used, it almost ended poorly – if Diana weren’t so quick with her gun, she may have been badly injured. However, there was probably not any chance of things going as unexpectedly off the rails as they had that time, and since Neal would be wearing a live transmitter, he could use a safe phrase the moment an attitude shifted the wrong direction. If he had to call it, then the bureau would probably lose the case; Brady would clam up and leave the jurisdiction, if he had any brain cells to rub together. It was unacceptable to let Neal be harmed for the sake of a ploy that may or may not work, so Ruiz was banking on Brady not being quick to anger or turn to violence. It was a brave gamble, considering his entire basis for being so pushy was that someone was already dead.

           “Say I agree,” Peter said slowly, and Ruiz made the hand against his belt into a frustrated fist. “Neal goes under first, gets to know the guy, see his baseline. Then we introduce a federal agent. If he gets agitated, Neal can spot the difference and get out.”

           Ruiz said briskly, “Yeah, duh, if he doesn’t think Caffrey’s an option there’s no point in sending an agent in.”

           “Who plays the agent?” Neal piped up again. “Because I vote it’s not you.”

           “Can’t be you, Ruiz,” you agreed, having Neal’s back. You tended to agree because he was a good strategist. It had nothing to do with a personal dislike for your fellow agent. Nothing at all. “If he’s already seen you, it’s too risky, he might think something’s up.”

           “But if it were a different agent, from a different division…” Jones trailed off and held a hand out like he was saying it could work.

           You nodded, and you, Jones, Diana, and Neal all looked to Peter. Your team leader was often very diplomatic about the choices he made in how to pursue cases, and this was no different. He saw you all seemed prepared to plan the operation, and gave Neal an extra look to make sure that his CI wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. Then the senior agent looked to Ruiz, and Hughes, and nodded assent with a tired sigh.

           “Alright,” Madeline, one of Ruiz’s agents, said, making a note on her laptop. “Burke is the bad cop.”

           “Or is it good cop?” You asked thoughtfully. If the fed in the plan were trying very hard to arrest an embezzler, then wasn’t the cop actually doing his job?

           “Not to Brady,” Neal told you, shaking his head. “Bad cop. Good criminal.”

           “No such thing,” Peter corrected right away.

           Neal pretended not to hear him. “Who’s the good criminal?” He asked, leaning in. “Rydell’s probably burned after last time.”

           “Nick’s got a history with math and money,” you suggested.

           “Nicholas Halden?” Madeline asked, trying to keep up. You kept Neal’s aliases pretty close to the vest for his own safety, but a little bit of word occasionally got around. Offhandedly, you questioned why Ruiz’s agents had been so quiet during the meeting. Maybe they were more afraid of their boss.

           Neal gave a full smile. It wasn’t the real thing – you knew the difference – but it was still an attractive smile, all confident and charismatic. “I think Nick has the time free to fit this into his calendar.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           You definitely had to give the bureau credit – they could move fast when they wanted to. Nicholas Halden was a ghost most of the time, but the FBI, combined with some work in the shadows on occasion from Neal and Mozzie, kept the man alive through talk and false documents.

           “You’re a lucky man, Nick,” you called as you waved the file over your head, walking over to Neal’s desk and joining him as he readied for his first meeting with Brady. “Costa Rica and the Dominican Republic in the same three months.”

           “What can I say, I have a taste for the Caribbean,” Neal responded with a playful grin. He reached up and took the file from you, then started flipping through it to see what had been added since the last time he took the identity out for a spin.

           You sat down on the edge of his desk and picked up the papers he had been studying. He was intently looking at the most recent public reports on Brady’s company’s finances. A little bit of job research went a long way, no matter who you were applying to. While putting the papers back down on the desk, you caught Neal looking up at you instead of reading Nick’s file and you flashed him a little smile, rolling your shoulders back and sitting straight.

           “Happy with the edits?” You asked, not that you could change them if he wasn’t.

           Neal kept his eyes on you while he answered, “I’m just thinking how lonely it is Nick doesn’t have a partner.” Your heart felt like it skipped a beat and Neal added on, “Nick and Y/N sound good, don’t they?”

           You knew there was a blush on your face but you refused to let an expression of interest go by unrequited, even if he could clearly see the redness in your cheeks. “I can think of a pair that sound just a little better,” you said to him, not looking away from his eyes until you were done talking. Neal and Y/N…

           “I like those,” he said evenly, his face open and sweet. “Y/N-“

           “Neal!” Peter snapped his fingers and both of you jumped a little. You leaned back and wondered exactly when you had started leaning forward. Your boss was standing on the mezzanine, looking exasperated. “What, is your phone dead? Hurry up!” He turned and went back into his office, but his coat was on and so was his holster, so you knew he would be coming out in seconds.

           You cursed his timing, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. When you and Neal turned back to each other, the moment was gone, and although the mood was still there, it wasn’t the time or place to try to bring the magic back.

           Neal saw the frustration on your face and touched your knee gently. “Later,” he said, standing up. He took out his wallet and started swapping out his ID cards for those of Nick Halden that had been included in the folder.

           “I’m going to hold you to that,” you told him wistfully.

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Diana drew van duty with Peter and Madeline, leaving you in the office with Jones while the rest of your team was in the field. No matter how often it happened, you never got used to the itchy feeling in your legs of sitting around when your teammates were being shot at, for all you knew. (Though you could be reasonably sure they weren’t.)

           It took about half an hour longer than you had expected it to, but it was impossible to tell until you got the call whether that was a good or a bad thing. Sometimes things took longer when there was a better opportunity than expected for building rapport, or even going straight to the throat, so you didn’t get too flustered. Peter eventually called, said that the op had gone well and Neal did good, and that since it was already later in the evening than planned, he, Neal, and Diana were going to head back to their respective houses and work from home. They would relate the details of the afternoon the next day. He invited you and Jones to do the same.

           Jones, who had a girlfriend in his life, took the advantage of an early leave, but you stayed in the office and caught yourself looking at Neal’s empty desk more than a couple of times. No matter how much you had observed it already, it still surprised you just how much you missed Neal when he was gone. The thief felt like a more necessary part of the office than the chairs or the lights or the cheap and gross office coffee, which really sucked because one day he wasn’t going to be here. Whatever he chose to do after the anklet came off, he wasn’t eligible to be an FBI agent – his days in the office were numbered, no matter how well his work-release went. And it was going to be really hard adjusting to work without him.

           “Good thing that’s still a long time away,” you told yourself, leaning back into your chair and letting out a long sigh. Still, it wasn’t the best thing in the world that your thoughts kept drifting back to him when you should have been working. You blamed it on the warmth in your knee, where it felt like his hand was still touching you. His gaze caressing your face. Voice soft and words just for you.

           Yeah. You had it bad.

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Peter briefed you all in the conference room the next morning, alongside Ruiz, Madeline, and the other two agents Ruiz had picked for the collaboration, whose names you learned were Matt and Damien. Nick’s interview with Brady went exceptionally well. From what Neal could tell, he was the most qualified applicant and Brady had been particularly interested when he’d been deflecting questions about the hedge fund he had briefly worked for. (Said hedge fund had been part of an older case in which Neal pretended to be a corporate spy and almost got killed for it.)

           Now that Neal was in your mark’s good graces, you had to take the biggest gamble of all and decide how long was long enough to wait before sending Peter in to make Brady jumpy. It was a balancing act of factors. On one hand, a greater time gap made Brady’s introductions to Neal and Peter appear less connected and gave him more time to reach out to Neal to build a stronger rapport, increasing the odds of him going to Neal when Peter started waving the hammer over his head. On the other, if you waited too long, then the risks increased that Brady would look too deeply into Neal’s cover. There were a lot of ways that it could fall apart – he could find out that the manager of that hedge fund was now in a federal prison; he could do a reverse image search of Nick’s face and come up with Neal’s pictures from when the FBI had him on their website; he could try to talk to shadowy contacts and realize that very few people had actually seen Nick in person over the last six or so years.

           “I haven’t heard anything from him,” Neal announced, but his posture was relaxed. It had been less than a day. “Give him time to come to me. I say if he doesn’t do it on his own by Monday, then we go in.”

           “How quickly does he make his decisions?” Peter asked, looking to Ruiz instead of Neal, even though only one of them had a friendly relationship with the man in question.

           Ruiz curled his lip. “Can’t say. It’s hard to find any intel on this guy. He covers his tracks.”

           Before Peter could say anything, you were already guessing his priorities. “On it, boss,” you promised, opening up your laptop. Digging up information on slimy businessmen was one of your favorite ways to spend your work day, just on the off chance that something particularly scandalous came up that you could use against them.

           “Get Diana to help you,” he said, pointing at Diana as the other female agent let out a soft sigh of complaint before taking her own computer out of its bag. “Di-“

           “I get it,” she cut him off. “I already got my excitement. Out of the van with me.” She smirked slightly as she said it.

           “And into the van with me,” Jones dryly said. It was no secret that the only person who hated the van more than Jones was Neal. “Yippee.”

           Peter frowned at both Diana and Jones in turn before continuing with the conference. When you all came out of it twenty minutes later, there wasn’t much new on your docket. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stop everything and only pursue one person when there were so many other cases waiting to be investigated. It wasn’t to the point that this one was prioritized highly enough that Peter and Ruiz could justify having almost ten agents working on nothing else.

           What you did have was the decision that, if Brady hadn’t reached out to Neal by Monday, then Peter would go in on Tuesday; if he had, then you would re-evaluate the following workday. In the meantime, Neal was to keep his head down and minimize his chances of being seen in public as much as possible while you and Diana were to continue trying to find any more background information on Seamus Brady.

           While you worked on both the Brady case and your other cases, you tried to catch spare time to fulfill the promise of talking later with Neal, but the opportunity was just out of reach. You were busy when he wasn’t and vice versa, and because of how deep he was in the undercover portion of the operation, he was spending his lunches with either Peter or Ruiz, being debriefed and making statements. By the time the end of the day was near, everyone on Peter’s team was just tired, and between your irritable temperament when you were tired and Neal’s tendency to be more guarded when he was stressed, you had both seemed to agree that it was better not to touch the subject yet. The weekend was especially needed for recuperating after the work days, and since Neal was being holed up safely away from any risk of sighting or scrutiny, you knew you shouldn’t be heading over to his penthouse during the case, anyway. It was disappointing, but the bottom line was that your “later” didn’t come that week.

           Although you had Neal weighing on your mind, your weekend was pretty relaxing. You grabbed a couple of naps, started reading a new book, and walked your neighbor’s dog for a little bit of exercise and homemade lasagna. By Monday morning, you were ready to go back to work and deal with whatever had happened since Friday.

           It turned out that there were no new developments. Honestly, it wasn’t shocking. Working for the FBI was rarely as glamorous as people tended to think. Neal reported no contact from Brady, and so Ruiz and Peter began working up a tweaked profile of Peter’s work history in order to suit the purpose of his role in the con (no, not con, operation. Peter was very picky about that). That was going to occur Tuesday, right before lunch, and it would be a quick in-and-out of attempted police intimidation.

           Then they turned the attention back to Brady, who he was and what he had done, and you and Diana had a lot of small things to report but no major discoveries. It was like Brady had suddenly come into being nine years ago, which made you suspect that it was probably a stolen identity, but you had exhausted all possible avenues for finding out who he had been before then. According to Neal, he spoke like an American, but you couldn’t find a social security number and now you weren’t totally sure that he wasn’t undocumented, which only made the situation messier.

           That conference lasted until eleven, and just as it ended, you met Neal’s eyes as you both stood up. He gave you a small smile, almost like he was inviting your attention, and you made an equally small gesture with your hand towards the door, asking him if he wanted to leave with you, maybe get lunch together. He had just started to nod when Peter brought his hand down on his shoulder, not noticing that he was interrupting.

           “You, me, my office,” he said. You looked down – you couldn’t fight the boss over Neal’s time when you were both on the clock.

           “You know,” Neal said, sounding a little stiff. It was gratifying to know that he didn’t like it much, either. It had been almost a week since the incident that wasn’t really any sort of incident at all, but possibly could have become one. “Sometimes humans eat lunch at this time of day.”

           “The Domino’s menu is downloaded to my computer,” Peter replied, missing the point and shepherding Neal out of the conference room.

           The artist caught your eye as he went past and grimaced. You nodded sympathetically, understanding.

           And your time still didn’t come at all on Monday, with Peter insisting on triple-checking everything he and Neal had related to each other about Brady, what he might be doing, and how best to get under his skin. You knew the case was important, but damn. At five in the evening, Peter clocked out (not really – you didn’t work on time cards). You knew that El made Peter come home on time with Neal and had them both sit down and eat a full meal every Monday, so you didn’t even bother hoping that Peter was leaving alone. You left not long after.

           Tuesday morning wasn’t your friend. Traffic made your commute to work particularly slow and you got there a few minutes later than you would have liked. Another case task force conference drilled everything into your head until you could’ve recited it in your sleep, and then Ruiz, Matt, Peter, and Neal all left for the next stage of the scheme. You really weren’t sure why Neal needed to go, but at this point, it was probably your irritation talking, not the thorough agent you worked hard to be. When they all returned, both bosses gathered their respective underlings into the same conference room for another update which lasted through the lunch break, and since your entire morning had been spent on one case, you were then told to spend your afternoon and early evening working on the rest of your caseloads to compensate.

           You wanted to strangle Peter. You didn’t meddle in his marriage. In fact, you supported his marriage and sometimes offered advice on presents or gestures for Elizabeth, and this was how he repaid you? By making it his life’s mission to ensure that you never, ever got any private time with Neal ever again, right after it finally seemed like the playful workplace flirting was going to result in something more meaningful?

           With enough hurrying, you managed to power through a good half-day’s effort with about ten minutes left before five. You took another look at the clock on your computer, relieved you made it. Ten minutes was enough for a conversation. Ten minutes was –

           You looked up to see if Neal was done, and he wasn’t even at his desk. After looking around for him with exasperation, you spotted him up in Peter’s office. You couldn’t see the thief’s face, but you could see Peter’s, and the seriousness of his expression made you want to throw your hands up in the air. You knew that look. It was the serious breakthrough look.

           Brady had been intimidated into contacting Neal.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

A/N: Remember, there is at least one more part to this story and possibly two, so keep your eyes peeled!

If you like my writing and would be interested in skipping the request queue, please consider checking out the details of my Ko-Fi commissions here or go straight to my Ko-Fi page here. Imagines are $1, oneshots start at $4, and a story of this length would be just about $8.

[writersrealmbts]

Con Amore: Part 15

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 05/28/2020

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 2,035 words

A/N: One more part after this, then we’re done. Promise.

They were an odd group, but they worked together brilliantly. Sometimes, they reminded you of your boys.

Yeonjun cracked some corny jokes now and then that reminded you of Seokjin, but could also be as serious as Hoseok.

Huening-Kai had a tendency to pull the maknae card like Jungkook, and the enthusiasm that Taehyung got when excited.

Soobin would get embarrassed and melt a little like Jimin, or sometimes like Namjoon.

Beomgyu was absolutely as snarky as Jimin.

Taehyun’s attention to fashion which reminded you of Namjoon mostly, but also Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok.

“Do you think they would train us if we asked?” Beomgyu asked quietly, a change from his usual talkative self.

You paused, then kept stringing the dried peels, berries, and popcorn. “Yes. I do think they would. As long as you showed that you were willing to learn.”

“They’re the coolest,” Yeonjun said, awe in his voice. “Whenever we heard about them at the temple, Taehyun, Huening, and I would then go and look for every video and article on it we could find on the library computer. They’re so well trained and they work so well together.”

You smiled a little. “I don’t know that they would be able to help you all train your powers. There are similarities with some of your powers and theirs, but there are also differences.”

“But they’ve worked this long in working together despite differences in their powers,” Taehyun countered. “We have a lot to learn about working together.”

You nodded slowly. “That’s true. They are exceptional when it comes to teamwork. They’re a family, but they also have a heirarchy. They know who is calling the shots. They have a specific purpose that they are devoted to.”

“You?” Beomgyu guessed, grinning and ducking when you threw popcorn at him.

“No, you imp. They want a world that’s better than the one they were born into. They were best suited to fighting those who would tear the world down to make it their own. Trying to make life better for supers like you boys,” You said softly, reaching over to push Huening’s hair from his eyes so he could actually see what he was doing.

Soobin nodded. “And what do you focus on?”

“The little things,” You answered, pulling a clip from one of your non-archive storage spaces and pulling Huening Kai’s hair away from his face. “Small robberies, hostage situations now and then, children, children’s homes. As Nightingale, anyway. But as an archivist…the scope of my job varies greatly from day to day. The overlap is very present though, which makes what I do a little more fulfilling than just…collecting things that will collect dust while staying a safe distance from the world.”

Beomgyu set a snack beside you just as you were thinking you should get one. “But…you’re known for being a fighter. I mean, you practically died to save the town. They built a monument to you.”

You shrugged. “The memories of the populace are short-lived. So distracted by every new thing, attention spans shortened by the speed with which needs are satisfied. It was the first big fight I’d ever participated in. And I…wasn’t exactly alive when they got me to the hospital. I had to leave for a while after that, I stopped by the temple for a little bit to be healed completely, then I went and just did my job as an archivist. Laying low.”

“Because it was your family,” Taehyun said, then his eyes widened. “Sorry, I—”

“Relax, Taehyun, it’s okay. I know you don’t purposely pry into my life.” You rested a hand on your stomach where the baby was pushing their little foot out, quickly reaching over and grabbing Yeonjun’s hand to guide it there since he was the only one who hadn’t been able to feel the baby so far. It usually pulled away just before he got to feel it, and lately it had been a little less active. Still moving, but not trying to push it’s foot into your lungs or kick your ribs.

His eyes were huge. “She’s really sticking it out there.”

“He,” Huening Kai countered playfully, not willing to let his hyung have the satisfaction.

“It’s a girl,” Yeonjun scoffed.

“Boy,” Taehyun immediately argued, tossing a piece of popcorn at the eldest.

You rolled your eyes. “Boys, at this rate, we’ll never have the tree decorated and I’ll have to cancel Christmas.”

Beomgyu and Soobin’s eyes got huge and they quickly shushed the other three who weren’t completely ready to give up—especially Huening Kai.

Until Soobin pointed at him and directly sent a wave of peace into him, then did the same with the other two. “String the popcorn.”

“Yeah, I’m not missing my first Christmas just because you guys were fighting,” Beomgyu added sternly. He set more supplies in front of them, then continued cutting the dried orange peels into stars.

The other boys quickly set back to work.

You laughed softly. “I wouldn’t actually cancel Christmas, you know that, right?”

“Not worth the risk,” Soobin said, waving a hand to dismiss it.

You shook your head, still smiling. They were adorable, and you doted on them more than you expected to. Part of you blamed the hormones, but you also knew it was because they were so young, and because they had all been through a lot in their lives. You’d doted on Soobin before all of this, but now you were seeing him grow with these other boys.

Made you feel old, and you really weren’t that old.

Huening Kai was just a baby, too. A cutie-pie who needed to be protected at all costs.

They all were, really.

Beomgyu looked at you strangely. “Are you okay? I’m sensing something…weird.”

“I’m fine?” You answered, shrugging. You picked at the snack, looking over the garland before tying it off. “Soobin, go put this on the tree.”

He got up and took it, pausing.

“Start from the top, wrap it around in a way the looks pretty, working toward the bottom and keeping in mind that there will be a few more strands.” You scrunched your nose as a sort of tightness   pressed on your stomach.

Huening Kai was trying to remember the words to a Christmas song, debating with Yeonjun playfully until you went to get your songbook to settle the matter since they were just making it worse.

You got up slowly, wincing a little. Your ankles were swollen and your feet hurt. So did your back. You’d been doing easy exercises to strengthen your body as the pregnancy progressed, but it still didn’t do much to help since the doctor you were seeing in the town nearby had told you to take it easy. You weren’t strictly on bed-rest, but she wanted you to act as much like you were as possible, and the boys had been making sure you obeyed.

You found the book, but instead of going out, you stared at the book, looking at the doodle Jimin had drawn on the front.

He had been teasing you, mostly because he knew what you had gotten Tae for Christmas, while he had been hand-drawing cards for the other boys and his marker had slipped onto the book he was using as a hard surface—your Christmas music. So, to make it up to you, he had turned the mark into a cute little snowman.

That was the year that you had gotten Yeontan for Taehyung.

You missed the domesticity of your life with the boys. You wanted them here.

You wanted them freaking out when they felt the baby kick for the first time, or staring at the ultrasound and asking you what was what again and again. Freaking out if you so much as got out of bed when they weren’t sure if you were supposed to or not. Reading the books with you, freaking out when you made them find out exactly what happens during birth. Fighting over who would get to be with you during the birth of the baby. How they would handle the hospital.

But that wasn’t possible.

“Y/n!” Soobin called, sounding alarmed.

Then Beomgyu hurried in. “There’s a group approaching, Hueningkai says they’re armed.”

“Okay, remember the plan. Stick to the plan.” You tossed aside the book, running through your repertoire of songs that wouldn’t accidentally harm the boys while you were trying to help keep them safe. Your powers were somewhat unpredictable lately, so you had to play it as safely as possible.

“Y/n, I don’t think you should,” Beomgyu said, grabbing your arm. “You’re health is different than even earlier this morning. Please just let us take care of you. I know it’s not in your nature, but it’s necessary. This is why we’re here, isn’t it?”

You slowly nodded, then stepped back. “Alright. But I’m establishing the communication network.”

Beomgyu nodded.

You hummed the song you’d come up with a couple weeks ago, which melded the various powers of you and the boys to form a sort of mental communication to each other. It was the safest song you had right now. “Update.”

“Four men to the south, three to the west, two to the east,” Hueningkai said.

“I’ll get the ones on the south,” Yeonjun said. “Blind the ones to the west.”

“I’ve got the ones to the east,” Soobin told them. “Hold until we know their intentions.”

You nodded, silently agreeing with Soobin’s assessment.

Beomgyu sat beside you, listening to the boys call out their positions. “We’ll be okay, y/n. Try to relax.”

You glanced at him, but mostly were focusing on sensing out there. The foreign melodies. The inclination toward major or minor melodies and the dissonant or harmonic chords, how it all fit together. “Be ready. They sound more hostile.”

“We’re ready,” Taehyun said. “I’ve got eyes on all of you. Yeonjun, Huening, try to increase the snow-fall to inhibit them more.”

“Got it.”

“Good idea.”

You froze as a foreign feeling washed over you.

Beomgyu looked at you in alarm.

“Boys, maybe put a rush on that,” You told them, getting up and grabbing the go-bag.

“What? Why?” Yeonjun asked.

“My water just broke. We’re going to the hospital.”

“So…loud and messy is okay as long as it’s quick?” Yeonjun asked, sounding a little freaked out.

“Anything to make sure the house is safe and no one follows us to the hospital,” You replied, voice a little sing-song in alarm.

Beomgyu grabbed the other bag and led the way to the garage. “Just do it. She’s a month early and I was right about the contractions.”

Your eyes widened when you heard a crash outside, followed by some screams of terror.

“Okay, just need to bury these guys and then the way is clear.”

Beomgyu shared a scared look with you.

Soobin darted in and hopped into the driver’s seat. “Clear the snow and ice from the roads?”

“Got it, rest of us our outside.”

You held onto the door handle as another contraction came through. “Hurry.” Your eyes filled with tears, and right then, all you wanted was one of your loves. Holding your hand.

But you didn’t get to have that. Not yet.

Beomgyu took your other hand as the other boys hopped into the vehicle. “It’s okay. Just breathe and try to stay calm. Do you want us to contact them?”

“No. It’s too dangerous,” You whispered. “Just keep my baby safe.”

He nodded. “Nothing will happen to the baby. I’m going to be with you and nothing will happen to either of you.”

You rested your other hand on your stomach.

“Soobin-hyung—”

“Got it,” He answered, then an overwhelming sense of peace washed over you. Almost like when Namjoon would use his confession inducement-type power. This was, admittedly, more agreeable.

“Taehyun, Hueningkai and I will set ourselves up around the perimeter and keep an eye out for trouble. Beomgyu will be with you, and Soobin will guard the waiting room. It’s the best we can do at the hospital.”

“I know. Thank you.”

~~~~

Part 14.   Part 16/Final.

Masterlist.  ~  Series Masterpost.  

Tagging: @ephemeral-mindset​, @alex–awesome–22​, @bryvada​, @missmoxxiesworld​, @knjhe, @i-dont-even-know-fck

[scarletfish]

don’t worry, you will

Summary: Two weeks ago, Juno was engaged. Now he's quarantined with a complete stranger who can't operate a microwave and has no sense of personal space.  And they were quarantined (oh my god, they were quarantined!)

Pairings: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, background Vespa/Buddy in future chapters Word Count: 3000 Chapters: 1/5 Warnings: canon-typical alcohol abuse, depression AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24016468/chapters/57779629

A/N: Thanks @space-city-traffic for the prompt, and @pipis-pods for the suggestion that Juno and Vespa communicate and become friends 

Chapter 1

Diamond paid you $1520 . Your Venmo balance is now $1520.  

Fiancee. Rent. They’re the first and last things on Juno’s mind. He realizes he’s been sitting in the parking garage for over ten minutes, idling and staring at the alert on his cracked phone screen. He turns the car off.

His car with a long crack in the windshield. Everything is goddamn broken. He gets out of the car, pauses. Gets back in the car.

This calls for a detour.

***

Twenty minutes later, Juno is ready to take his newly acquired liquor to his room so he can introduce it to his newly acquired headache, but he still has one more stop to make.

Hyperion Apartment Complex twists eight stories high, and the tacky light grey brick facade is almost reflective at night. Semi-nice rooms in a mostly bad part of town. Hyperion city makes cheap look beautiful, the way fast-food commercials brush up plastic meat with shoe polish and glue. Diamond had always hated it.

Juno shoulders into the leasing office with two large grocery bags. The front desk is empty, and everything is fading or peeling. He rings the bell and sits on a peely, faded chair to wait. Might as well put the whisky to good use.

Taking a swig, he looks out the floor-length windows to the filmy outdoor pool. (Rita swears security fished a body out of it a couple years ago. Juno told her she needs to stop watching so much Law and Order.) For the hundredth time, he wonders if this is even worth it. She's going to ask questions, it's inevitable, and he doesn't know how to answer them. Doesn't know the answers himself.

He starts poking holes in the plastic grocery bags with his thumbnail. Takes another swig. Then a couple more-

“Boss!” Rita bobs into view with her tablet in hand, Cheeto dust on her bright purple jacket.

Since the police force scandal, Juno runs a small PI business from a shitty downtown office, which is where he met Rita. To this day Juno’s not sure how or when she wormed her way into a position he wasn't even offering. He’s also not sure when she sleeps. As far as he knows, the part time leasing office representative is her third job- she also does... something with computers.

“Rita,” swig, “I need a favor.” The shorter woman has already started talking, anticipating their usual back and forth.

“And I know I ain’t supposed to call you that here, but you are my boss, and I don’t think my other bosses-- wait, huh?” Confused by the change in script, Rita eyes the half-empty bottle of whisky in Juno’s hand. Her eyes jump to the clock.

“Mista Steel, are you okay?” One pro of hiring Rita: she’s very perceptive. Con of hiring Rita: way too perceptive.

“Fine. I need you to check someone out for me.” Rita’s eyes immediately light up.

“Oooooh, boss, another case already? Is it gonna be as exciting as the one with Mista Prince Julian? Are we gonna get to travel? I’ve always wanted to go somewhere exotic, like Maine, or Florida-” Juno cuts her off before she can get going.

“He was a dramatic politician with a cheating husband who ended up dead, Rita. Not everything is a Netflix rom-com.”

There's a bitterness in his tone that might not have been there a week ago, but the smaller woman doesn't notice. She's already sunk into her desk chair, head propped in both hands, sighing dreamily as she swivels back and forth. Time to bring out the big guns.

Juno reaches into his shopping bag and pulls out the chips, dangling them in front of Rita’s heart eyes. She snatches. He raises them just out of reach.

“Focus. It’s not a case. There’s this guy I need you to find. I’ve got name and place of employment. Can you do it or not?”

Rita pouts. “But boss,” she whines, “you don’t even need me for that, you can just Google his name like I showed you. I thought we were gonna do something exciting.” Juno pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, well, Google isn’t gonna cut it this time, because,” I wasn’t really paying attention when you showed me that, “because, he’s highly secretive. And, that’s potential name. And potential place of employment, my source isn’t very,” he almost chokes on this last word, “reliable .”

The gears start turning. “Secretive… hang on Boss, is this another high-profiler? Have you been holding out on me?” She lowers her voice (not much). “Boss, this is about a case, right, you just can’t tell me because they might have tapped the phones!?”

What… who does she think they are? Juno drops his head into his hands to rub his temples. When Juno doesn't immediately contradict her, Rita continues in her stage whisper.

“Don’t worry Boss, Rita’s got your back! I’ll have this secretive criminal tracked down before they even know we’re on their case!”

“It’s not a case.”

“I’ll be as quiet as… as those monsters in The Quiet Place! Except they ain’t so quiet when they’re attacking people, but neither are we when we’ve got the bad guys cornered and we’re ready to take them out-”

Besides the recent political debacle with Julian and his missing husband (that one was a high-paying scrap tossed Juno’s way by an old friend), most of the cases he’s hired for are affair investigations and insurance fraud.

He’s certain neither he nor Rita have “taken anyone out” ever ... unless you count that time he tried to teach Rita to drive stick shift. Or the Hot Tub Debacle. But those were accidents.

Juno slings the bag of snacks onto her desk. “Just find out whatever you can about the guy, okay?”

“Fresh shrimp flavored?” Rita squeals, “Aw, you’re the best Mista Steel!” She digs into the large bag and talks around a mouthful of orange crumbs while Juno tries not to vomit in his mouth.

“Shipping ish ‘aking fore’er wi’ this crathy thirus thing goin’ gon,” she swallows, “speaking of, have you been watching the news Boss?”

“Every morning with my sunrise yoga. Listen Rita, I’ll check in with you tomorrow, okay?” Juno’s limbs are… heavy, suddenly. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s because he hasn’t slept well in that last, oh, ten years... or maybe it’s the weight of that single text, sitting in his phone for almost a week now. Looking at Rita, he thinks of telling her everything. Just spilling his guts right onto the scuffed linoleum floor.

The engagement. The text. The Craigslist ad. The man he’s supposed to be meeting tomorrow.

Rita’s still chattering on, and her voice cuts through the haze. “-but you never told me the name of Mister Criminal?” She happily shoves another handful of chips in her mouth. “Oooo, or is it so secret you need to write it down on a piece of paper and then I can read it and eat the paper-”

“Peter Ransom. Might’ve done a job for Vallas Vicky’s hotel recently.” That’s all he knows. “And he’s not a criminal Rita, he’s just a normal guy.”

Rita’s dialogue wanders around to closing borders and something about Italy, but Juno’s already moving towards the door (it shuts a bit harder than he intended). He doesn't know why he's so upset with Rita, when all she's done is try to cheer him up and offered her help. He makes his way back to the parking garage elevator. It smells like cotton candy vape and something vaguely mossy. A group of ragged kids is flying down the incline around the corner on penny boards.

Juno takes another swig of whiskey in front of the chrome doors and jams the elevator button about twenty times before he remembers.

Of course the fucking elevator is down for the weekend.

He wants to sit at the bottom of the stairwell and drink himself into oblivion. He want to wallow in this feeling for a moment, the feeling of the universe kicking him while he’s down.

Instead, he drags himself to the stairwell, drudges down the second floor hall, and practically collapses through the door.

An eager chittering greets him from the cage in the living room. “Hey, Smallfry.”

Diamond wouldn’t go near the ball of fluff (“It’s so dirty Juno,”) so when they moved in together eight months ago, the rabbit was a launching point for multiple arguments. Juno drops his grocery bag of Timothy hay and carrots by the cage, not bothering to stash it in the kitchen.

He pointedly doesn’t look in the smaller second bedroom that Diamond claimed as an office space. He doesn’t look at their shared bed either, because the sight of the rumpled sheets will just wrap around his ribcage and squeeze and squeeze until he can’t breathe again and everything is spinning-

Juno takes another swig and collapses on the couch. And then, because he wants to hate himself a bit, he thumbs through his phone to his fiancee’s most recent text. No matter how often Juno reads it, it never changes.

3:56AM: Diamond

Juno. I’ll forward my part of two month’s rent before the month is over. That should be long enough for you to find a temporary roommate, at least until the lease expires at the end of the year. Do what you’d like with the furniture.

Ex-fiancee.

***

Juno bolts upright, disoriented and confused. The decorative couch pillows left lines on his cheek, and he’s nursing the beginning of a monster headache. He gropes around for his phone. 7PM. It’s only been a few hours.

It feels like days. Months. Years.

Juno shivers. He left the door to the porch open, and a cool fall breeze is raising goosebumps on his arm. A nearby screen door slams, and heavy boots tread the balcony next door. “Hey piss-bucket, you been day drinking again?”

The green-haired nuisance next door is only loud when she chooses to be, so Juno knows she's hoping to stir him out for a cigarette or two. He wonders briefly when Buddy will be back. Vespa only gets this chatty when her partner is gone for long periods of time on work trips.

He toys with the idea of stepping out. Hey Vespa. How're the axe-throwing students? (She refuses to tell him what she does for work, so Juno assigns her a new job every night.)

She’ll respond with something like, Great. If your failed PI business finally tanks, we could always use some new targets.

Maybe if Juno gets drunk enough, he’ll tell her why he’s not planning on ever being sober again. Tell her that he’s such a fucked up human, his fiancee ghosted him three weeks before the wedding with no forwarding address. Over text.

She’ll have to laugh at that. It’s the goddamn joke of the century, and Juno’s the punchline.

He jumps violently when his phone starts ringing. “I know you can hear me, Steel,” Vespa sneers from her balcony.

Juno groans at the name lighting up his screen. He was wrong- he’s not the punchline. Fucking Mick Mercury is.

He almost sends it to voicemail, but at the last second he crosses to the balcony door, wrestles the screen closed as Vespa flips him off (“What, too busy getting wasted alone?”) and finally slides the door shut with a bang.

He leans against the wall by Smallfry’s cage.

“Whaddya want, Mick.” Juno’s brain struggles to keep up with the excited babble streaming out of the phone.

“Juno! That hit we got on your listing? The Peter guy? He messaged again!”

No one’s outright asked Juno, “Did your fiancee ghost you three weeks before your wedding over text?”, so he’s not lying to his friends, per se. He just isn’t ready for the inevitable string of I-told-you-so’s from Rita and Vespa, who have hated Diamond since the moment they waltzed into Juno’s life ten months ago and stomped all over his heart with their designer boots.

Mick, bless him, is blissfully ignorant of Juno’s recent string of unfortunate life events. He’s blissfully ignorant about most things, actually, but his unending stream of well-intentioned business ventures mean he knows how to advertise.

Juno isn’t sure who Craig is, or why he keeps lists of random shit online. All he knows is that he can't afford rent on his own, and Mick owed him a favor. A lot of favors.  

“Let me guess, he's found something better and he's not interested anymore.”

Fuck Diamond for putting him in this situation. Even if he deserves it. Even if he should’ve known better.  

“No, Juno! He says, and I quote,” he clears his throat and reads dramatically, “‘Juno, would it be possible to move our rendezvous sooner? Due to personal issues I find I’m in need of accommodations a bit sooner than expected, and your ad did say the room was available post haste.’” Mick drops his voice back to normal. “He wants to meet sooner!”

“Yeah, I got that Mick. ‘Post haste’?”

“I went for a 'trustworthy but not desperate' vibe, ya feel?” Juno is quickly wishing he read and approved the ad before Mick posted it across the internet in his name.

“All right Mick, whatever, sure, just let me know when you set it up for.” There’s a long, telling silence. “...Mick?”

“Okay so here’s the thing,” and with that, Juno knows the universe is screwing with him again, “I kinda already told him you could meet him tomorrow morning? At eight? And I gave him the address of the apartment?” His words get faster with each blow.

“You gave him the address? Goddamn it Mick, I thought we were meeting for coffee somewhere first so I could make sure he’s not some wackjob who wants to hack me to pieces and wear my skin as a suit!” Juno’s less worried about becoming a potential skin suit and more worried about waking up before noon with the spectacular hangover he’s got planned, but he’s not going to tell Mick that.

“Oh Juno, you’re so,” he chuckles, “you’re hilarious! Skin suit. Ha! You’ve been watching Law and Order with Rita again, haven’t you?” Juno resists the urge to slam his head into the wall and end it all.

“Anyways, get some sleep tonight and make a good impression on our friend tomorrow! I’ll pass him your number. And hey, maybe you could mention my new Hair-in-a-Can line? One good turn and all that. The recall went real smooth with the last one!”

“Mick, hang on, listen to me-” Juno’s cut off by a loud crash in the background.

“Sorry Juno, gotta go, the cans are a bit more,” a high-pitched scream, “uh, high-pressured than we expected, good luck pal, don’t be a stranger!”

The line goes dead. Perfect. Juno eyes Smallfry.

“Not like I have anything worth stealing, huh? Unless he deals in small, neurotic rabbits.” He restocks Smallfry’s hay before he’s too drunk to remember. Vespa's convinced that a hungry rabbit might be inclined to chew through the apartment wall and go on a carnivorous hunting spree.

“My last roommate had a rabbit. It got mad when their sister’s rabbit got a nicer cage, so it chewed straight through the bars and,” she snapped her fingers, “chomp chomp. Nothing left but rabbits feet.”

“Bullshit.”

“What are you Steel, the rabbit whisperer? Okay, maybe it was a gerbil! Whatever, same difference.”

Then he grabs an extra blanket from the hall closet (it really is starting to get cold), two bottles of liquor, and the TV remote and settles onto the couch for another long night.

***

The best mornings are the mornings Juno wakes up still drunk and pleasantly fuzzy. This is not one of those mornings.

His alarm is playing quite loudly, meaning it’s probably been going off for quite some time, and two things happen in quick succession as his brain painfully struggles towards consciousness.

He rolls over in bed to grab at his phone and realizes the bed is actually a narrow couch. He hits the floor with a heavy thump . He's blindly swiping at the floor trying to turn the damn thing off, ignoring the nagging anxiety that he’s forgotten something important... There!

Blearily, he reads the alarm label… “SOUR CREAM.” What?

There’s a sharp knock at his door. His tipsy brain stumbles around in tight circles. He set that alarm weeks ago while cooking… never bothered to re-label it.... that doesn’t explain…

A second set of knocking, more forceful this time, accompanied by a muffled voice.

It’s 7:50AM and he honestly can’t remember why he’s supposed to be waking up or who could possibly be at the door. No, wait… he vaguely remembers…

Mick. The phone call. The desperate roommate.

All at once, Juno’s certain that he doesn’t need a roommate. It’s only four months after all, and the idea of a complete stranger snooping around his stuff, asking questions about his life, getting tangled up with his job, makes Juno’s skin crawl. It’s not worth the money. He can figure that out… somehow.

It’s decided. He’ll ignore the knocking. This Peter guy will eventually give up, he’ll tell Mick to take down the advertisement, and he’ll figure something else out.

Then a noise outside the door makes his blood run cold. He knows that giggle.

“Sorry Mista Criminal, lemme just, ngh-hungh, try that key.” Rita, traitor secretary and ex-best friend, is using her spare key to let this man into Juno’s apartment. The stranger’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Could you maybe...?”

There’s no time to think. Juno’s only on the second floor, there are bushes underneath the window. If he can get out quick enough, he might be able to avoid a meeting altogether-

“Thank you Rita, you are an absolute gem, and twice as beautiful if I might add...” the door clicks open.

Might’ve been able to. If he’d moved a little quicker.

“Hello! Juno, I presume?”

Fuck.

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

2018 post because I still want to and it’s on my to-do list

I'm sure at this point no one but me cares considering we're fully two months into 2019 but whatever, I want to record it for posterity, because there were a lot of things in 2018 that I did for the first time and that's kind of important. (”this will be brief!” I said, you know, like a liar.)

I finally got a tattoo. I've been talking about it for years but never figured out exactly what I wanted or where, and even once I figured out what I wanted ("all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us," which has been important to me in different ways for years) I didn't know exactly how I wanted it to look, because it can be tough to make text tattoos look good and I’m not an artist or a graphic designer. and then Scully was diagnosed with kidney disease and I realized, oh yeah, his paw print, there's an obvious one. my tiny little semi-colon (of which I apparently never took a decent picture) was also pretty obvious once I started looking for something small I could do as a test tattoo, although the way things worked out I got them both at the same time. the whole process was...kind of odd? but instead of just talking about it I finally actually made it happen, and it hurt but not, like, unbearably, and now I have a piece of my furry little boy that goes everywhere with me, which was especially important after he died.  

I did way more political volunteering than I ever have before. I always feel like I'm not doing enough and compared to people who volunteered with campaigns every single day, I guess I'm not, but I still did a lot in 2018 compared to any previous year: lots of donations to multiple Democrat candidates and progressive organizations, textbanking for several candidates across the US, sign-waving and even phonebanking for the Alaska Democrats, poll watching on election night for the Alaska Democrats, at least a few hundred handwritten postcards to voters for a few more candidates, data entry for the campaign against a local bathroom bill last spring (I keep forgetting that happened in 2018 too because, you know, 2018 was about a decade long), going to several local anti-Kavanaugh demonstrations and the like, leaving lots of voicemails for my legislators and bugging other people to do the same (with varying levels of success), and maybe other stuff I'm forgetting. which is all good, because actually doing shit is vastly preferable to just going "wow everything is terrible and we're all gonna die" both in terms of actual impact and my mental health. the unfortunate part is that after doing as much as I did for the 2018 midterms--whether or not I really actually did enough, whatever "enough" might be--I got pretty well burned out, especially because...all the candidates I did the most work for DID NOT WIN so that made it feel kinda pointless (even though we took back the House and I was so relieved about that I could’ve cried). especially locally where Alaskans did the stupid thing and 1) kept Don Young and 2) elected a Trump wannabe with almost no experience as our governor because he made promises that any idiot should've been able to see he wouldn't be able to keep. but...I still worked hard for causes and people I care about, and I devoted a pretty significant amount of time and money, and I got out of my comfort zone with last-weekend phonebanking, and none of that is nothing.

I joined a gym and started going there fairly regularly. as usual I want to qualify this, because "30 minutes on the elliptical once or twice a week" is not exactly an amazing workout, and I haven't been as good at going regularly since I finished TAZ: Balance, but like...it's still a new thing that I went out of my way to do, and it was a positive change toward taking care of myself physically.

related: I...finished a podcast? I'm bad at podcasts (see also: I'm two or three years behind on Welcome to Night Vale, the only other podcast where I've listened to more than one or two episodes), but the Balance arc of The Adventure Zone is amazing and it basically let me trick myself into wanting to work out so I could listen to more. (unfortunately, Amnesty and MBMBAM haven't been as effective this way, I think because MBMBAM is hilarious but there's no narrative and therefore no "oh shit what's gonna happen next" suspense, and Amnesty is great but it's just...less zany, I guess. constant zany goofs are great for distracting me from the fact that I'm doing generally unpleasant physical activity.) now maybe if I could find a site like GoodReads for podcasts, which apparently doesn’t exist yet, maybe I’d do better at remembering and then listening to all the podcasts I’ve heard of that interest me...although I still don’t know what would be useful for workouts to give me that all-important combo of zany goofs (made by people who are not horrible) and suspenseful narrative. 

I got back into conventions and cosplay for the first time in six years, which is kind of dumb because I was never that deep into cosplay in the first place and I'm still not, and the vast majority of cons I've attended have been tiny local ones...but I did do several attempts at varying levels of quality starting back in college, and I put together some complicated-by-my-standards outfits for SDCC 2012, and then I didn't do any cosplay at all until last year when I semi-spontaneously decided to go to ECCC. I only did two for that one (AoU Wanda, and Avengers Academy Loki) but they involved more actual work than any previous cosplays and I was pretty proud of how they turned out. and then I kind of went "oh hey, cons and cosplay are fun, I forgot", so I did a very simple cosplay for one tiny local con and two that were much more complicated (Stuttgart Loki and The Final Pam) for our larger local con, and it was a lot of work and I'm not 100% happy with how I looked as Pam but the handful of people thrilled to recognize me made it worthwhile. also my Loki staff is damned cool and I look great in suits.

I got contacts! for the very first time! LITERALLY JUST FOR COSPLAY! I've worn glasses since I was about two so I don't remember my adjustment period and I've never had much desire to try contacts, and with past cosplays I just kind of shrugged and wore my glasses anyway, but after ECCC I wanted to Do It Right so...I got contacts. it kind of sucked actually! after the week or so where I was supposed to wear them to get used to them, I literally have not worn them except for the local convention! it turns out contacts will never be a great idea for me because astigmatism is wacky! but now I have contacts I can use for future cosplays, and it's another new thing outside my comfort zone where I went "you know, actually, I could do this thing" and then I made it happen, which is...sort of a big deal for me.

I played Silent Hill 3 and 2, in that order, which is not that big of a deal but still feels like something of a milestone for me, because a) actually finishing a game is embarrassingly rare for me and b) I feel like...they're so well known and such a part of gaming canon, so to speak, that finally playing a couple classic games I previously only knew by osmosis is sort of significant actually. also I love them both in different ways, and discovering a new favorite game series is always fun.

I said goodbye to Scully. this was...not a fun one, obviously, and in fact those last few days were completely fucking awful. but, well, it was a big thing that happened, and it was new in my experience. like I said (a lot) at the time, I realize it's a sign of how lucky I've been that Scully was my hardest personal loss so far, but that doesn't change the fact that it was, and...of course it was hard and horrible. he was my furry little boy, he was unquestionably family, he was a huge part of my life every day for 9 years.  I took care of him as well as I could for as long as I could, and then I made the most compassionate decision I could, and for the most part I was able to focus on remembering the joy he brought me instead of just how much it hurt to lose him. (I've also said this before but I think dealing with Loki in Infinity War helped with Scully, because I'd already done some work on my unhealthy tendencies toward hopelessness in the face of, you know, things ending.) and then I found Hazy, and that's been hard in different ways but she's also worth it, and I think I can train her enough that other people will actually get to see how silly and adorable and sweet she is instead of just BARK BARK BARK.

I more or less kept up with my writing goals of posting at least one new thing a month? I guess this is an accomplishment rather than a first, since it's something I've been mostly successful in doing for the last few years, but it's still notable. also it does involve a first, because until I will kiss you till your breath is found I'd never written anything even semi-explicit (well, I very vaguely described a couple sex scenes in my Crimson Peak fic a few years ago but that was...VERY vague) and then I wrote several thousand words of fucked-up dubcon sort-of-p0rn and fairly shortly followed it up with another one. so that's a thing I've done now I guess. (is it actually explicit if you never really, directly reference anyone's genitals but it's still obvious what's happening and also it's fucked-up sex stuff? I don't know but at this point I'm definitely still too squeamish to use certain words in my fics. is that because I'm hella ace or because I grew up hella repressed in purity culture? BOTH PROBABLY)

and then there are my goals for 2019! or rather the rest of 2019 but it's cool because I got started on a couple of these pretty much right away!

cut my hair real short. already done! in fact this was basically the first thing I did in 2019, because I made the appointment Jan. 1 and got my hair cut Jan. 2! kind of like the tattoo, this is something I've been wanting to do, and talking about wanting to do, for ages and I've never actually gone for it; the shortest I've gotten my hair cut was basically chin-length, more than once, because I'd go in like "I kind of really want a pixie cut or something similar but idk if that would work on me without adding a bunch of time and Product to my morning routine so maybe I shouldn't?" and the stylists were always like "yeah you shouldn't, a good pixie for your face shape is not wash-and-wear hair" so I never did it even though I kept wanting to just...cut all my fucking hair off. and then this December I kind of went, wait, I got a TATTOO with less angst than this and that's permanent. I CAN CUT MY HAIR. IT GROWS BACK. so I got all my fucking hair cut off. it's not perfect because a short cut really does take more maintenance, from what I'm told (I got it cut the first week of January, so...probably I should have scheduled a trim by now), and I really would prefer to continue paying almost no attention to my hair while still looking generally okay, and the bits in front fall in my eyes and piss me off if I don't pin them back (I did buy the hair wax stuff the stylist suggested that was supposed to sort of lightly anchor it in place but it just never worked for very long, so...pins), BUT it is very nice not constantly catching my hair in my purse strap and stuff like that, and also I'm more visibly queer with short hair and that's definitely a plus.

train Hazy. this is a work in progress. it took a while to get signed up for an actual class and then I had to go with one for reactive dogs specifically, and so far I've only been to two sessions, just one of which involved Hazy, and then I've been trying to do other stuff at home, and...well, it's a work in progress. but she's a good dog who just needs to learn to chill a little bit, and I should've trained Scully and didn't so I'm trying to do things right this time.

specifically, I would like to get her trained enough that she can accompany me to Pride in June, wearing her adorable Wonder Woman harness and cape. given that she is not great with individual strange humans and strange dogs, taking her into a big crowd of both would definitely result in a screaming meltdown if I did it now and it may or may not be realistic to hope I'll be able to get enough improvement on that in time. but that's the goal. if it doesn't work, there's always next year, I guess.

also, I want to make myself a flying ace costume for Pride. this may or may not be much more complicated than I anticipate.

speaking of costumes, I'm planning to go back to both local conventions this year, and I imagine I'll reuse my Stuttgart Loki outfit at least once but it would be nice to do at least one other new cosplay. Heather/Cheryl from Silent Hill 3 seems like it should be straightforward but Value Village hasn't provided me with any of the pieces yet so who knows.

post more to @alaska-gothic​ because I have a bunch of cool photos I'd like to have a place to show off (and I've taken a lot of new pictures, some in VERY cold weather, for this exact purpose)

finish more games. in practice this might turn into "play more short games while continuing to neglect long games" but I want to make my list of completed games longer and I also want to PLAY MORE GAMES in general because it's a thing I really like, and it's possibly the only thing I do that's purely for my own enjoyment, and I want to make more time for that. also I want to finish SWTOR’s existing singleplayer content because, I mean, it’s an eight-year-old(!!!) MMO so its remaining time is probably limited by default and it’s fucking ridiculous I’ve been a subscriber for at least seven years without even finishing all the class storylines, what the actual fuck Past Me. (I also want to make more time for console games specifically, because those are almost definitely easier on my body and I can do them while cuddling with Hazy on the couch. unfortunately this also generally requires me having the place to myself, which is kind of a rare thing that is also necessary for comfortably working on customs or writing, so...opportunities are limited.)

speaking of games: finish buying the parts to upgrade my computer and then upgrade my fucking computer, and also back up my fucking files

finish a long fic? or honestly if I can even finish more short fics that would be great. really just...make progress on the WIP list. especially if I can finish some IW-specific fics before Endgame comes out. that would be super cool of me.

get another tattoo. I still want that LotR quote but I don't know how I want it to look so who knows when that might happen. HOWEVER, I've been wanting something queer, and I very much loved Foxflight Studios’ "we fight as one" design, and when I asked the designer if she was okay with me getting it as a tattoo she said yes. so at least with that I wouldn't have to figure out a design. I do of course have to figure out a) where I want it (ideally, somewhere normally covered by clothes but where I can see it if I want to, and where a person might conceivably keep a real dagger) and b) how much more it's going to hurt/cost than the paw print considering it would have to be bigger and it has a lot more colors and linework.

do some travel around Alaska. I've lived here for nearly my entire life and I really haven't seen that much of my own state. more importantly there are a few extremely cool places within theoretical driving distance, like Kennicott, Igloo City, and abandoned military installations near Seward, and I want to visit them. @erlkonigstochter and I had vague plans to do this last year and it never materialized (although I did visit Nike Site Summit on my own), so...this year I intend to try harder to make that happen, especially since I have no current plans of traveling out of state.

put more stuff on Etsy (and figure out how to advertise them?). in particular there are a bunch more things I want to repaint in various Pride colors, in part because those are way easier than custom Funko figures. of course, a lot of these things are kinda technically copyright infringement which means somehow I have to figure out how to make more sales of the easier things without drawing the attention of any corporations (and/or shift my focus to things that aren't under copyright of some kind but that's probably more complicated).

but also do more personal projects. I have so many partially finished custom figures, and so many other figures I bought specifically to customize but haven't touched since, and it would be cool to actually...do something with some of those. especially because several of my WIPs/plans are more Lokis, and I need all the Lokis, and there are not many more left that I can buy.

figure out how to motivate myself to work out more and keep up with PT exercises, see above re: needing a  better replacement for the magic of TAZ Balance whoops

get a therapist and work on ADHD issues, because I'm increasingly convinced that ADHD issues are at the root of the vast majority of my other issues (depression, anxiety, etc.), and that I would be immeasurably improving every aspect of my life if I could make some progress on that aspect. the difficulty, of course, is that finding a therapist is kind of complicated and difficult, and also I don't really want to add yet another regular appointment to my schedule when I already don't have enough time after work to do all the things I want and/or need to do, but...this one thing could go a long way toward helping me actually do all those other things, so obviously this is a time investment I really need to make. although probably not until I've made serious progress with Hazy's separation anxiety because that also makes it hard to go places after work. so uh, I guess we'll see. in the meantime it might be smart if I tried to figure out some kind of self-guided therapy thing I could do. I'm sure there's...something.

just, like, be more intentional about...things. in general. this is a bad goal because it's very nonspecific but it is slightly more specific than "generally do better FFS" so at least there's that.

[majorxmaggiexboy]

i recently remembered a film my brother and i watched several times as children, and that got me thinking about the other stuff we would watch. most of which seems kind of weird on reflection. we don’t actually have any of these anymore, so just for funsicles i’m trying to think of the films and see if i can remember any of the details before actually googling them.

     Live Action

Two Brothers - a couple of tiger cubs are captured by poachers or something and separated from each other. one is trained to perform in the circus and is also fed candy by some guy, the circusmaster is an absolute [censored]. the tiger learns to jump through fire which is important later. the other cub is given to a little boy (TERRIBLE IDEA) and is a pet for a while until he’s sold to someone else. the tigers are eventually reunited but then they’re chased by people with guns who try to trap them by setting things on fire BUT because the first tiger learned not to be scared of fire he shows his brother how to jump through it and they escape and are reunited with this other tiger that has a hole in her ear from a really close call with poachers. i think she’s their mom.

Gunther and the Paper Brigade - idk if it was knock-off Newsies or what but like there’s this kid named Gunther whose brother keeps an ant farm and said the line “did you know that all the ants in the world would weigh as much as all the people in the world?” and i think they’d just moved to a new house but Gunther joins some kind of newspaper group and at first he is AWFUL at delivering papers like he just slings em any ol’ place but then he gets into a sort of war with a bully and i think somebody orally siphoned some gasoline at one point and the brother’s ants definitely came into play and in the end Gunther was really good at delivering papers. He rode a bike. at one point he’s hanging out at the mall pretty often for some reason and his brother teases him about it.

Ben Wagner - Uhhh family moves to new town, kid has an older sister and a younger sister, there’s a freaky adult at the school who said the line “Wagner. Waaaagner. I’ve got it. The name is now set. in my. brain....,,..”  Benny’s miserable for some reason but he meets a kind of mysterious girl who takes him to visit her elderly relative but to get there they have to walk across a log that’s across a river/waterfall type of situation. the elderly relative says something to the effect that if they all stand on one side of the house it’ll tip over. Ben regularly visits these people. His dad gives him some chores but he half-arses all of them and the dad walks him around to each thing (like the car that was supposed to be washed, the garage that was supposed to be tidied, w/e) and goes “you did a lousy job”. The older sister wants money for something but hasn’t saved up her allowance so she demands money from Ben and says the line “I bet you have tons of money squirreled away”. He goes to visit the mysterious girl and her relative but his little sister follows him and falls off the log bridge so he jumps in the water to save her and he manages it but then they’re both in the hospital.

No More Baths - Guy runs a club for kids and has some rules in place specifically to keep the kids safe but one kid breaks the rules and winds up getting himself hurt so the guy who just wanted to do nice things for the community kids gets straight up ARRESTED and his dog is put in the pound and the whole thing was some racially-motivated bull and the kids aren’t having it so they protest by refusing to bathe and i think they get to testify at the guy’s hearing too and anyway he wins so then the kids go play in some water bc they haven’t washed in weeks.

Goosebumps: Night in Terror Tower: Some dude is a little too enthusiastic about explaining to two children how the Rack works “It stretched, annnd streeettched, unTIL HIS BOOOOOOOOONES, WERE PUUULLLLLLLLED...poP. Right Out Of Their Sockets. :) “ and then those kids get chased around by some dude who wants to kill them or something. they try to buy a bus pass but they have medieval currency and the girl’s like “Our parents wouldn’t give us play money” but then they wind up in like actual medieval England. I think the girl’s name was Sidney.

Bunch of Assorted Wildlife Documentaries: idk there was a thing about an elephant painting and a lot to do with dolphins idk i think there was a bit of Steve Irwin in there too

     Cartoons

The Gallivants - like Divergent but with very Orange ants who are assigned a career? or pick out a career? but when they reach adulthood they’re all supposed to develop something called a “kabump” which is like an extra segment for their creepy insect bodies. They wear shoes and their limbs can have either pink stripes or blue stripes. they might wear gloves? anyway the protagonist is named something like “Shando” and he doesn’t develop his “kabump” on time so it’s scandalous. His friends desert him or something.  I think he wanted to be a musician and so makes himself a fake kabump but he plays the saxophone a little too vigorously or something and makes it come off, at which point he’s shamed and rejected by literally everyone but at some point he also tries to work in construction but accidentally breaks stuff and is told “You’re not a Con-struct. You’re a DE-STRUCT.” then he wanders around in a labyrinthine cave fighting a two-headed creature called something like, The VanterViper that wants to kill all the baby ants or something at i think in the end he’s appointed like official Mom of all the babies or something of that nature

The Ugly Duckling - Standard retelling of the classic tale, this one was created almost exclusively to sell Crayola products i’m pretty sure. This version has a baby swan just trying to live his best life but then a bunch of [redacted] sing at his adoptive mom about how “one bad apple spoils the batch” and he either runs away or gets kicked out. then he runs into a mouse who wears boots and has red hair and she proceeds to call him “Ugly” as if that’s his name, for the entire rest of the movie. He winds up inside a house at one point and two freaky looking cats sing at him about the importance of having “a high IQ” i think a church burns down and he saves the mouse? over the course of the film he gets more and more swan-like in appearance and maybe works for a theater for a little while and then everyone loves him.

Scamper - a bunch of penguins are trying to hatch their eggs but then they’re attacked by...something....and one penguin feels bad about losing some eggs so he takes someone else’s but then admits what he did and returns the egg to its real parents and everyone mourns the loss of their children while being grateful for the survivors. when the eggs hatch there’s like a little pink penguin and a little bluish penguin and they’re friends, they’re learning to slide during Penguin School but then they get captured and wind up on a boat and there’s a dog. They eat really tasty-looking crackers out of bags and are terrorized by the ship’s crew until they manage to escape and find their way back home to their grieving parents.

Willy the Sparrow - a sick (literally and figuratively) young boy has fun bullying a cat and being a [redacted] to birds but then an elderly woman turns him into a sparrow to teach him a lesson. He meets other birds, all of whom have decidedly human heads of hair, including an old man sparrow who teaches him to fly. he winds up challenging the former child-leader-of-the-sparrows for power using his human smarts to amaze them all and eventually leads an attack on the cat who rightfully holds a massive grudge against him. idk he like helps them find food or something and then gets turned back into a human maybe

The Seventh Brother - a young child is moving to a new place and brings her puppy, but somehow his carrier is knocked out of the car??? or something?? and he winds up lost in the forest but is rescued by a large family of rabbits who teach him how to act like a rabbit. He saves one of them from being carried off by a bird but then begins to die of malnutrition as dogs can’t live on the same diet as rabbits for any length of time. also, he rescues a former tormentor from a creepy-as-hell predator and is badly wounded in the process, prompting the rabbits to band together to get him home to his owner. they succeed and he’s pretty much cured by one (1) bowl of puppy food.

Some Blue’s Clues Special: idk whatever’s the one with the treble-clef and the treasure hunt where the ‘treasure’ turned out to be Steve’s grandma’s cookies that you can tell the exact taste and smell of just by looking at them and also the grandma made an appearance too

That Weird Puppet Cat in the Hat Thing with the grouchy bird who had to be taught how to play pretend but then was pushed into a panic attack when the group was playing pirates and he imagined it too vividly so then they explained that he could change the story at any time and also at one point they played a game called “pass the yawn” and the bird just went OFF more than once

Some cartoon, i think it was Anastasia, where at one point someone’s taking some stuff away and the girl says what on reflection i think might have been “My luggage!” but at the time i thought was “my lungs!” and i spent the whole movie thinking they done straight up confiscated the girl’s lungs.

The Swan Princess - and i remember nothing except the way Odette would say “Darren!” and the fact that she spent a lot of time as a bird and there was a puffin. also Darren was one of my early crushes purely because i liked his name.

The Secrets of NIHM 2: main character’s name was Timothy and was one of the first characters i mentally fanfic’d about. there was some song that was like “Just! say! Yes!” where i think he was being pressured to do drugs or be experimented on or something but mostly i remember him singing “I am my father’s son” and me being so confused thinking “well yeah?? Who else’s son could you be???”

idk some Thumbalina thing all i remember is “Deary! Marry the Mole!”

Friggin’ Barbie Rapunzel there was a purple(?) dragon and Rapunzel liked to paint and that movie was where i learned the word “adequate” and i’m still mad at that woman for being so rude like lady. who raised you. where are your manners. i think the dad dragon wanted the purple dragon to hate humans or something idk

some other film where there was a very definitely purple dragon but i can’t remember any details so it’s just going to haunt me forever but it was like a small-ish purple dragon.

[honeyjimsfics]

Deep End

Another installment for Danny and Dash, this one taking place after “A Little Further.”  This is by far the most I’ve written.  Lots of Dash still being a powervers and being very convincing.  Also, I’m exhausted.

Danny let out a grateful sigh as he leaned against his locker.  “I mean, it’s just nice, ya know?  Getting in some quite time with the family gone?”

Tucker smiled, “I can believe that.  Another Ghost-Con, huh?”

He shrugged, “I guess.  This time in Wisconsin.  It’s just a get together of weird ghost fans, both the local and far out variety.  Mom and dad usually go just to try to sell their inventions and get more recognition in the ghost hunting community.”

“There’s a community?”  

“I guess.  Either way, it gets them out of the house for a few days.  Plus, Jazz decided to finally have a sleepover with her friends at their place.  Something about ‘enjoying my youth while I still can.’  Eh, I mostly think she’s just doing it so she has something to write about in her college essays.  So now I get a whole night to myself!”

“Huh, so anything planned for tonight?” Tucker asked.

“Not much, might just veg out, get a couple hours in on DOOMED, maybe order in some food from-”  

“Hey Fenturd!”

Oh no.  Danny’s face winced as he heard the voice.  He knew who it belonged to.  The same guy that turned his knees to pudding.  The same guy who’s face he couldn’t get out his head for a whole week after their last hallway encounter.  The same guy he couldn’t believe that he’d been messing and kissing around with.  He turned around to see Dash Baxter making a path towards him wearing his usual red letterman jacket and jeans.  Danny gulped.  Please don’t do anything weird in front of Tucker.  Come on Dash, don’t be that cruel.  “H-hey Dash,” he replied apprehensively.

“Aw why the long face?  Can’t I see my favorite dork every once and a while?” he asked as he heavily patted Danny’s shoulder.

“Heh heh, yeah...”  Danny said avoiding eye contact.  Jeez, he’s just touching my shoulder, why the hell am I getting warm?

“Now don’t get your panties in a bunch Fenton,” he teased.  “I’m just here to return your sister’s book, she left it at my place when she tutored me last week.”

Danny looked down towards Dash’s hands, there was indeed an algebra book in his grip.  Oh thank god.  “O-oh!  I’ll make sure Jazz gets this back.”

The book immediately fell from Dash’s hands to the floor, slamming to the ground with an emphatic thud.  “Oops, my bad Fenton.  Hahahaha!”  As Dash sidestepped from Danny, he grabbed Tucker’s hat and brought it down on his face.  “Good to see you too Tucker.  Heh!”  Dash then left down the hallway, high-fiving a nearby jock who managed to capture their whole encounter.

Tucker angrily rearranged his hat, “God, what a jerk.  Can’t you just zap him or something?  Just once?”

“No Tucker,” he replied as he picked up the book.  “No ghost powers on humans.  Not even Dash.”  Danny then noticed a bit of paper was sticking out from the algebra book, clearly a scrap from a notebook or something.  Opening the book he realized it was a note.

It was from Dash.

Lamppost at 3:30 sharp.  Don’t be late!

He wants me to meet him after school?  Why?  What?  What??

“What’s that Danny?”

Tucker’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.  “Eh-what?  Oh, uh, just some equations my sister had him do,” he said, closing the book.

“Oh, hah, what, did he get most of them wrong?”

“Ha, yeah.  L-like half of them.”

“Man, your sister has her work cut out for her,” Tucker said as they both began to make their way to class.

“Yup, heh.”  Me too...

The rest of the school day seemed to flutter by in a breeze, Danny being mostly preoccupied by his thoughts of Dash.  What could he even want from me?  Danny quickly turned red and shook his head.  Ugh, besides that.  I mean, there is no way I’m doing anything in front of the school!  Outside!  That’s just, I mean, he would never ask that, right?  As the school bell rang its final bell, Danny gathered his things and headed to the school’s library.  Sigh, might as well catch up on the homework, it’s only 2:30, I got some time.  As he entered the library he quickly settled in a nearby desk, pulling out several papers and books and tried to focus as much as he could at the non-Dash related problems at hand.  Several pencil scribbles and page flips later, he stared in confusion at one particular passage.  Confusingly trying to decipher what the author’s symbolism could be, he glanced at the clock on the wall.  What?!  It’s 3:38?  Shit!  Shoving all his belongings back into his bag he rushed to the front of the school and out to the front steps.  Bursting through the doors he gasped for air.  Scanning the air, he hoped to see no sign of a red letterman jacket.  

He had no such luck.

Danny saw Dash quietly leaning against the lamppost, arms crossed as he stared out towards the street.  Oddly enough, he wasn’t wearing his usual red jacket.  A duffle bag laid at his feet, with one of the sleeves of his jacket peeking though the zipper.  With out the sleeves to cover him up, Dash looked bigger, his arms no longer confined beneath a thick fabric.  Danny let the thought pass and trudged up to the lamppost.  “Uh, hey Dash.”

Dash stared straight ahead.  “You’re late.”

Danny’s stomach dropped, “S-sorry.  I was doing homework in the library and lost track of time.”  He hoped his excuse was reasonable enough.

Dash looked down at him for a moment, his brows furrowed in a knot.  He grimaced, “Whatever Fenton.”  He picked up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder.  “Come on,” he said behind him as he started to walk away.

Danny just stood there.   “Huh?”

Dash turned around, “What, you need me to hold you’re hand?  Come on already Fenton.”

“But where are we going?”

“My truck, where else?  Come on, I gotta throw my stuff into the back, hate lugging this stuff around,” he said as he shifted the duffle along his shoulders.  “I’m starving, so hurry it up.”

“Uh, ok,” he said, shuffling along side Dash.  Where the hell is this going?  Starving?  Wait, does that mean...  Oh jeez.  The two walked in relative silence as they made their way to the school’s parking lot.  Few cars were around, save for a couple staff cars huddled in a far corner.  Dash’s car seemed to be the only’s student car in the lot. Reaching the truck, Dash clicked open the driver side door, moving the seat aside to shove his duffle bag behind it.  Danny stood silently in front of the hood.  “Umm...”

“Ya know, the doors are open now.  You can go inside,” he said not bothering to look at Danny as he moved his duffle around.

“Oh.  Uh, ok.”  Danny opened the car door and hoisted himself inside.  The truck’s interior was relatively plain and clean, except for the papers and food wrappers scattered on the floor.  Everything else seemed made it seem like a car fresh from the factor except for the little plastic football glued to the dashboard.  Dash hopped into the car and slammed the door shut.  He looked at Danny and said nothing.

Danny swallowed the saliva in his throat, “Um, what are we doing here?”

“What do you think we’re doing, Fenton?” Dash replied, his voice thick with intent.  He swung his arm over the passenger side headrest.  

Danny reddend, “O-oh.  Uh, um...Ok.”  Well, at least you’re sitting down this time.  And it’s sorta private...   Danny reached down and started to unzip his pants.

Dash burst out laughing, “Jeez Fenton!  What, didn’t get enough of my mouth last week?  Man, you should see your face!  Priceless.”

“I-wh-what?” Danny stuttered.

“Relax.  I ain’t gonna have you for lunch again.  Well, at least not here.  Pretty sure I pushed my luck to the limit last week.  Surprised no one caught us with you being so loud.”

“I wasn’t being loud!”

Dash side glanced at him, “Sure you weren’t.  Besides, I told ya I was gonna share with you, right?  So I was thinking of more of a...home meal?”  His smile widened.

“Wha...What?!  You mean your house!?”

“No dork, I mean your house.  My parents are home all the time unless it’s for one of my games.  And the hallway has its charms, sure.  But being able to fuck around with you in your own bed?  Make sure that every time you sleep in it you can’t stop thinking about what you did?  Oh, yeah, definitely your bed.”

The thought of Dash being under his covers, his bed filled with Dash’s scent burned him from the inside out.   “N-no way!  My parents are h-home all the time, just like yours!  What makes you think they wouldn’t notice?”

Dash just let out quite sigh.  “Fenton, I know you’re parents are gone for the weekend.”

Shit.  “H-how did you-”

“Your sister, remember?  She’s been tutoring me and during one of her insanely hard equations, she off handedly told me her parents were gone for the week for something about a weirdo convention and her one chance to regain her youth, or blah blah blah.  Look, either way, your sister isn’t home.  Your parents aren't home.  You’ve got a house all to yourself.”

Darn it Jazz!  “That doesn’t mean I want you to come over!”

The jock let out a groan.  “Really Fenton?  This argument, again?  How many times do we have to do this?  How many times do we have to make out in the hallways?  How many times do I have to experience you sticking your tongue down my throat first and swinging your little arms my neck?  How many times do I have to have your cock down my throat and you clearly pushing my head down to the frigging base?”  

Danny shut his eyes.  You don’t have to describe it like that...

Dash cupped Danny’s cheek with his hand.  It was rough and warm.  “You want me.  Just as badly as I’ve been wanting you.”

“Dash, you, you want me?”  Is he really saying these words?

The jock let his hand drop and sighed.  “It’s been a long freaking week Fenton and I have been dying to kiss you and push you up against the lockers again.  But we were pretty wild last time.  Figure a couple of days to get your breath would be good.  Gotta say, I’m pretty pent up.  Pretty sure you are to.  Seen the way you’ve been fidgeting in the hallways every time you see me.”

“Well, what do you expect?  It’s not like I can act calm around you anymore.”

“Ha, exactly!  I can’t either!  I just keep wanting more and more with you and I know for damn sure you do to.  That’s why you have a golden opportunity here Fenton.  So what do you say?  Want an after school snack?” Dash smirked.

Danny winced.  Ugh, he’s so awful.  But...Is it that bad to really just admit that I really having sex with him?  He looked towards Dash, his eyebrows were raised as if he already knew the answer.  To just let go and admit I want this jock of an asshole...ugh.  I can’t believe myself.  Danny let out a long sigh and looked out his window.  “I guess some...food wouldn’t be too bad right now.”  God, I really shouldn’t have said that, that was way too cheese-

Dash suddenly clasped Danny’s head in his hands and turned him towards himself.  His lips met Danny’s in a rough grind before pulling apart an inch or two.  “God, I’m so freaking hard right now, you have no idea,” he said in a low growl.  He then returned back to the driver seat and took in a calming breath.  With a twist of his keys, the engine coughed to life.  “Alright then, food at Fenton’s,” he laughed.

Danny coughed, “Um, ok.”

“Oh and Fenton?”  Dash’s voice was soft and quiet.

“Y-yeah?”

He smiled, “Put on your seatbelt loser.  I’m not getting ticket because you’re busy daydreaming about my cock.”

Danny’s face reddened as he scoffed.  He clicked the belt into place, “Jerk,” he said with a chuckle.  Dash just laughed again as they drove out of the parking lot.  

A few red lights later the arrived at Danny’s house, the red bricked building looking as obvious as ever with the ops center jutting out from the top.  Dash parked along the side of the street and turned his car off with a click of his keys.  “Man Fenton, your house still as crazy looking as ever,” Dash commented as he stepped out his truck.  

“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before Dash,” Danny quipped as he grabbed his pack and started towards the front door.  He fumbled with his keys for a moment before opening it.   “It’s not much but this is the living roommph!” 

Wasting no time, Dash quickly shut the door behind them and immediately started kissing Danny.  Darting his tongue inside Danny’s mouth, Dash let out a quiet growl as he stepped closer to him, closing the distance between the two to only a few inches.  

Jeez, he sure is in a frigging hurry!  Breaking the kiss, Danny caught his breath.  “Can’t, can’t you slow it down for once?”

“Like I said.  Long week.  Where’s your room?”

“Ahh, it’s um, upstairs.”

“Well then, lead on Fenton.”  Dash eased his grip on Danny’s arms and instead let his hand form a solid hold on Danny’s hand.  

Danny blushed, “Gah, um...”

“God, you are so easy.  Knew this would get you all flustered.  You like that classic shit, huh?  Well, I’ll hold on to your hand and you lead me to your room, how’s that?”

Danny just looked away, “S-shut up.  Come on, it’s this way.”  The jock snickered quietly as the two headed up the stairs.  Danny couldn’t help the stray thought invade his mind.  His hands are really warm.  I mean, I’ve felt them before but this is...nice.  Lord, I’m pathetic.  Dash almost reading his mind gave his palm a light squeeze.  Letting the need to let out a small squeal pass, Danny lead the way to his room’s door.  “Uh, welcome to my room, I guess.”  

Pushing open the door, Dash quietly stepped inside and took in the scene.  A few space posters littered Danny’s wall, beneath which was a simple wire frame bed with a trunk at the foot of it.  A mostly cleared desk was off to the side and despite a few clothing items scattered along the floor the room was clean.  “Not bad, Fenton.  Plain and simple.  Like you.”  

Ignoring the obvious jab, Danny turned around the close the door behind them. “Yeah, thanks for the compliment Dash.  Didn’t think you could be so nice.”  As Danny turned his attention back to Dash, the jock somehow managed to already get on top of his bed without making a single noise.   

He was stretched out on his bed, filling most the space with his large body.  His head leaned against Danny’s pillows which were propped up against the steel bars of the frame.  He let out a sigh as his hand started to grope his cock through his jeans.  Dash lazily glanced towards Danny as he stretched and wriggled into a comfortable position.   “Well, what are you waiting for?  Come and get it.”

Danny gulped.  Seeing Dash taking up so much space on his bed, it made the jock seem so much bigger than he actually is.  The way he laid on his sheets his black shirt had already risen up a bit revealing a light blond treasure trail that disappeared beneath his denim.  Ok, that is way too much for me.  He looks like straight out of some porno or something.  Danny tentatively walked to the side of the bed, considering what he should do first.   Biting his lip and hoping he made the right decision, he let his hand graze and feel Dash’s stomach, each of the jock’s wispy hairs soft the touch.  Dash’s breath came out low and slow as he stared lustfully towards Danny.  I don’t think I’ve ever actually felt him like this before.  Usually my hands are wrapped around his neck holding on for dear life or pressed up against the lockers, I never get a chance to feel what he feels like.  He’s so smooth...  

“For fuck’s sake Fenton, how the hell are your hands so goddamn soft?  Like silk, man,” Dash said through gritted teeth.  The young man let Danny feel his stomach a bit more before becoming a bit impatient.  “That all you gonna do, Fenton?”

“Um... I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”  Really, I hadn’t.  

“Ya know, I think you can get a better feel if you were more like this.”  The jock grabbed Danny by the waist and threw him over himself.  Suddenly, Danny was straddling the young man, his hands on his pecs and Dash’s on his ass.  “See?  You can feel a lot more like this.  Just like I can,” he said as his began to fondle his butt.

Holy crap, I’m on top of Dash Baxter.  He’s in my bed.  He’s grabbing my ass.  How the hell are any of these sentences true?  “Y-yeah, you’re right,” he said absentmindedly.

“Well, come on.  Keep it up.  Feels nice you groping me like this.  Finally getting some in return.”  

Danny’s breath was heavy, he could barely think straight with the well toned jock beneath him.  Get a grip Danny!  Just calm down and go with it.   Steeling his nerves, he did his best to even his voice.  “Dash, can I, um, take off your shirt?”

“Pssh, don’t have to ask me twice.  Go ahead.  Undress me, Fenton.”  Dash’s last words were a mix between a dare and an order.  Danny followed suit.  Gripping the black fabric Danny lifted the young man’s shirt over his head and tossed it to the side revealing a well toned body.  A few years of football and training and some added fine genetics had left Dash’s body in prime condition.  His pecs were full and smooth and his shoulders were well defined, like he was chiseled out of marble.  His nipples were two delicious looking pieces of flesh, both hard from excitement.  Such definition had given him a strong V shape, as if his entire body was an arrow leading straight to his dick.  There was hardly any hair on him save for his fine trail of hair coming from his crotch.  Dash smiled, “Like what you see, Fenton?”

Danny could hardly speak, it was as if his mind was a dial tone at this point.  He simply nodded his head.  He let his hands continue to roam Dash’s chest, feeling every curve and mound.  His fingers brushed up against the jock’s nipples more than once, eliciting a few winces and inhales from Dash.  “Watch it Fenton, you’re gonna get more than you bargained for if you keep that up.”  

Like I’m not already over in my head at this point.   Danny took it as a challenge as he bravely pinched Dash’s nipples, giving each one a gentle twist.  Dash let out a low groan as he shut his eyes and threw his head back.  

“You fucker...” he said with a low growl.  “It’s your turn Fenton.”  Deviously, Dash grabbed the back of Danny’s shirt and hoisted it over his head, pulling him through and tossing the shirt across the room.  

Embarrassed, Danny covered himself with his arms.  “Dash!  Ask first or something!”

“Haha, what?  This is what gets you embarrassed?  You’ve done far worse.  Hell, I’ve done far worse.”

“It’s not that!  It’s just, I’m not as impressive as you,” Danny admitted.  You’re like a Roman solider or something, as if you didn’t already know.

The young man shrugged.  “No you’re not.  Doesn’t mean you aren’t still cute to me.”  Dash propped himself up so Danny was straddling his lap.

Dash reddend at his words.  Cute, really Dash?

“Wow, didn’t think your whole body turns red when you’re embarrassed.  Now that’s cute,” he said as he played with Danny’s butt again.  

“You are the absolute worst,” Danny spat as he wriggled from Dash’s gropes.

“Yeah yeah, I know.  Now come on, you’ve seen me shirtless.  Let me see what I’m working with.”  Danny sighed.  Reluctantly, he let his arms rest at his sides.  Dash let out a small whistle, “Fucking hell Fenton, looking good.  Small, sure, but damn are you smooth.  And sexy.”  Dash let his large hands roam Danny’s chest.  His hands alone almost spanning the whole width.  

Sexy, really?  God, why does his voice have to drop so low when he talks like this, it’s too much.  “You’re just saying that...”

“Am I now?  Would I just say that if I didn’t want to do this?”  Leaning forward and pushing Danny back a bit, Dash took Danny’s nipple into his mouth, flicking it and kissing it in a hungry attack.  

Fuck that feels so weird!  It’s like each lick is going all over my body!  “Dash!  Please, slow it down a bit!  It’s too much!  Ahh!”  Feeling warm and lightheaded, Danny kept on letting out moans with every lick and every twist.  The heat of Dash’s breath kept Danny completely on edge as he let out a warm breath on his nipple before giving it a soft bite.  The slight twinges of pain sending signals straight to his cock saying I want more.

“Heh, told you were gonna get some.”  Letting his hand drift to Danny’s crotch, Dash began to grope him through his denim, teasing and feeling the length of his cock.  “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, huh?”

“Unf, I g-guess you could say that.”  Damn it, his hands feel just as good as last time.  

“Well, can’t let you have all the fun now.”  Reading Danny from his clutches, Dash laid back down on the bed, settling his head on the frame as Danny straddled him once again.  The young man smirked as he unzipped his fly and let his crotch finally meet air.  

Oh fuck.  

HIs cock was securely in place in a white jockstrap, practically bulging from beneath the fabric.  While not entirely hard like Danny, he was clearly at half mast, causing his package to look particularly hefty.  Everything about it seem in proportion, albeit slightly big.  His balls alone seemed like there were barely contained by the underwear.  “It’s my turn Fenton.”

Jeez, does everything on him have to be big? It’s like he has a softball stuffed in there!  Danny could feel his heart race as Dash gazed at him, his eyes telling him what to do.  “You want me to uh, touch you?”  Danny struggled to make sure his voice didn’t crack.

“Yeah, Fenton.  I want you to touch me.  I want you to feel me in your hands.”  Dash’s voice came out soft and commanding, like an enchantment.  

Danny could only obey.  “O-ok.”  Laying himself down between Dash’s thighs, Danny was only inches away from Dash’s crotch.  Ok, ok, calm down you got this.  Dash did this to you and it felt great.  So how hard could it be?  Gulping nervously, began by letting his hands glide up the jock’s thighs.  Dash responded in a deep sigh as he closed his eyes.  So far so good.  Grazing his fingers up to the young man’s crotch, he let his thumbs brush up just behind Dash’s balls.  

“Unf, fuck Fenton.  Knew your hands would feel good there.  Keep on going.”

Hey, maybe I’m not so bad at this.  Feeling encouraged, Danny crept closer to Dash’s cock and groped it with his hands.  He could feel the heat emanating from it and the pure heft of it in his palm, it made Danny whimper with lust.  

Dash just let out a quick huff and smiled, “Fucking finally.  Like that feel, Fenton?”

Danny nodded diligently as he placed a small kiss on the cock just before giving it a slight lick.  While the fabric of the jockstrap was rough against his tongue, he could not deny the excitement building up in his chest.  Millions of thoughts were running through he mind at that moment but only one seemed to stand out among them.  

I really want to see his cock.

Giving in to his lust, Danny pulled aside the jockstrap freeing the cock beneath.  While the same length as his own, it was easily twice as thick with a pair of balls to match.  The head was a nice light pink color and it already had a small drop of pre coming at the tip.  Let his thirst overwhelm him, Danny pressed his face along the length of Dash’s cock, breathing in Dash’s scent and letting his tongue lap at his balls. 

“Holy fuck, Fenton!  Didn’t realize how fucking hungry you were.”  Dash then placed his hand on Danny’s head, his fingers running through his hair.  “Though this isn’t a bad look on you, I gotta say.”

That feels...oddly nice.  Comforting, even.  Relishing the moment, Danny moved his attention from the jock’s balls to his dick.  Brushing his lips along the length, Dash tensed from his touch.  He then trailed his tongue from one side to the other, lapping up the precome that was already leaking from earlier.  It coated his mouth with a slightly salty film, but it only made him want more.  Dash was now fully erect, his cock laying stiffly along his stomach.  Gripping it slightly, Danny began to stroke the young man, his other hand gently playing with his balls.  Dash moaned in response, grinding his hips in time with Danny’s strokes.    Seeing him feeling so good, it feels...rewarding somehow?  Like, I want him to feel good.  I want to know that I’m the one who makes him feel like this.  Is this what he felt last time?  After a few more strokes, Danny began to lick at the head of Dash’s cock, squeezing out a few more drops of precome in the process.  Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves, Danny took the head into his mouth, guiding it as best he could with his tongue.

“Fuck that’s warm.  Feels real nice, Fenton.  Real nice.”  Dash’s body seemed to completely relax in Danny’s hands, as he settled into the bed more.  

Only taking in a few inches, Danny began to bob up and down, savoring the taste of the young jock as he let his hand make up the rest of the work.  God, does he have to be so freaking thick?  My jaw already is getting sore and it’s only been a few minutes!  Letting it pop out of his mouth for a second, Danny focused on the base, letting his tongue trial a circle following the hairs gracing it.  “Dash...” Danny moaned as he began to touch himself though his pants.   

“Yeah, you like that don’t ya?  The taste of my cock in your mouth, the scent of my crotch?”  Dash’s voice was filled with smugness.  

Danny helplessly nodded his head.  Has me in the palm of his hands, literally.  I don’t think I mind that anymore now.  Taking the cock back into his mouth, continued his motion from earlier, only now trying to take a little more each time.  The furthest it seemed he could take was three inches into his mouth.  

“Come on, Fenton.  I know you can take more than that.  What, need a little encouragement?”  Dash then tightened his grip on Danny’s hair and thrusted forward, jamming his cock down his throat.  He held him firmly in place for a few seconds.  

Danny slapped Dash’s leg repeatedly.  Air damnit!  I need air!  Finally releasing him, Danny gasped and gulped for his breath.  “D-damnit Dash...” 

“Hah!  Need a break already, Fenton?  I was able to deep throat you just fine last time.  What, my cock too big or your skills too weak?  Which is itmmmph!”

Silencing his insults, Danny quickly kissed him causing Dash to taste his own precome which still coated Danny’s mouth.  “You’re such an asshole” he said through gritted teeth.  

Dash smiled, “Heh, yeah I am.  Now how are you gonna shut me up?” he dared.

Accepting the challenge, Danny shimmied the rest his body up to Dash’s chest, resting his legs on either side.  Saying nothing he unzipped his pants and took his cock out from his underwear and presented it squarely in front of his face.  With this, you jerk.

Dash smiled deviously, “That’ll work.”  Greedily, Dash took the cock into his mouth, eagerly slurping it down his mouth.  

The sensations ran all over Danny’s body, his entire being feeling like static.  With every movement of Dash’s head, he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.  God, it feels just like last time.  So warm and inviting.  I just wanna go deeper and deeper.  Steeling himself and closing his eyes, he gripped the head frame of his bed and began thrusting into Dash’s mouth.   A muffled “Fuck yeah” escaped from Dash’s mouth before being replaced by more slurping noises.  Dash began to stroke himself as his mouth continued to get fucked by Danny, pre dripping down the side of his cock.  Holding onto the back of Dash’s head, Danny upped his speed, thrusting faster and faster.  Beads of sweat began to fall from his forehead as his body trembled and ached for release.  Barely opening his eyes, he glanced down towards Dash.  His face was flushed with lust as he saw him hungrily take in his cock.  The sight was too much.   “Dash, I’m gonna!  Fuck!”  He let the word hand in the air as he thrusted one last time down Dash’s throat, unloading his come.  He held Dash’s face close to his crotch as felt his cock spasm, once, twice, then finally letting go as the final white rope spurt and filled the young man’s mouth.  “Dash...” he moaned weakly.

Gulping down the cum in one go Dash licked his lips.  “We ain’t done yet, Fenton.  I’m fucking close and you are not missing one drop.  So get back down there,” he commanded.

Still hazy from the release, Danny obeyed and brought himself back to Dash’s cock.  Opening his mouth, he panted as he waited for Dash’s release.

“Here we go, Fenton!  Take it all in fucker!”  Gripping Danny’s head, Dash brought his open mouth right over his cock.  Suddenly, thick white ropes of cum shot from it, spattering Danny’s cheek.  Quickly maneuvering, Danny took the cock into his mouth and it was then thoroughly coated in white.  Pulling him down, Dash thrusted a few times into him, each time another shot of cum.  Danny gulped down what he could before releasing Dash’s cock from his mouth.  He cursed, “Fucking hell, Fenton.”

Exhausted, Danny rested his head in Dash’s lap for a moment.  He looked up at Dash to see him totally lost in bliss.  Huh, not bad for a first time.  Pulling himself together, he brought himself back up to Dash’s face, pausing only for a moment before kissing him.  It seemed to break the young man from his stupor as he laughed.  

“Looks like you missed some.”  He then licked away the shot of cum still on Danny’s face and gave him a small kiss.  “So, what do you say?  You still hungry?”

Danny just laughed as he settled into Dash’s chest, cuddling closer towards him.  He’s still an asshole.  “No, I’m full thanks.  Also, can we drop this metaphor now?  It’s been stupid for awhile.”

Wrapping his arm around Danny’s slight frame, he brought him closer.  “Oh a cuddler, huh?  Figures.  And sure, no more food innuendos.”

“What, what’s wrong with this?”

“Nothing.  Nothing at all,” the young man replied.

Danny scoffed as he nuzzled his face into Dash’s neck, “Well alright then.”  Maybe this isn’t so bad.  Maybe this will be just fine.  The two closed their eyes and shared a moment of exhausted bliss.  Which was then immediately broken. 

“Danny my boy!  We’re home!” Jack’s voice yelled.

Danny’s eyes bursted open.  Shit!  The hell are they doing here so early?!

Dash’s whole body tensed, “Fenton, what the hell.”

“Ghost convention was bust, had to leave early.  Just a bunch of fake ghost researchers in jumpsuits.  But hey, look at this new gadget we made on the way back!”  The voice boomed from below but stomping footsteps up the stairs didn’t make it seem it was staying down there.

Dash was in panic, “Fuck!  Fenton, what are we gonna do?!”

Well, we’re half naked in my bed, our cocks are still out, and I’m pretty sure there’s nothing we can do...except...  Swearing a thousands curses in his head, Danny calmly took Dash’s face in his hands.  “Don’t make a sound.”

“Wait, what?”

Danny immediately turned the both of them invisible the second his dad threw the door open.  “Danny!  Huh, he’s not here.  Eh, maybe he’s at Tucker’s.  Jeez, kid needs to clean up in here.  His shirts are just on the floor and it reeks of sweat.  Told him to keep tidy while we were gone.  Ah well.”  Jack then left the room with a slam of the door.   

The two of them kept as quiet as they could as they heard a few pairs of footsteps fall further and further away, presumably into the basement.  Letting their breath go, Danny dropped the invisibility cloaking the both of them.  “That was a close one, huh?”  he said trying to calm the mood.

“Fenton.  Why couldn’t your dad see us?” Dash’s voice was quiet and controlled.

“Um...”

“Fenton, your dad isn’t blind, I know that for sure.  So why couldn’t he see us.”

“Uh...”

“FENTON.”  Dash’s eyes were livid.  

 Well, fuck.  This is gonna be fun. 

[princessmelina]

Wow after posting this and glancing at the length of it I realize... I should really go sleep now, and who knows what I’ll think when I reread this tomorrow

It’s been... at least 2 months, maybe almost 3, since I had that bout of eating so much I made myself feel awful and then not eating the next meal because I was still so dang full at least twice a week for a few weeks. After I came back from visiting my parents in Oregon and started up with a personal trainer (mainly to increase my strength but also to see if I could get any use from tips on how to eat more like a normal person), between that and karate I seemed to be doing alright, managing my eating well enough, mostly back to just overeating (not to the point of feeling blergh though) on the weekends when hanging out with friends.

But of course I just had to feel overwhelmed enough this week I broke and overate yesterday and today during lunch, so much I felt ugh the rest of the day and couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) eat dinner. But added fun this time, I’ve slept most of the past 2 days away (I sleep more than a person probably should anyway but wow this has been a lot of naptime even for me). And the universe might just be trying to tell me something since in the past few days, two completely separate people I follow reblogged the exact same post that talks about depression meals not just being eating not enough but eating too much too.

Which, okay, probably should have guessed before but I don’t know what triggered it those few months ago and I thought it was just my usual food struggles where I love the taste of everything too much and always want to eat and dealing with all that is tiring enough. But this week I get it. Tried to cheer myself up with my accomplishment on Thursday where my personal trainer got me farther than I expected on my handstand progress but that still didn’t quite work.

Buying a house is awful and stressful and I’m so grateful for everything my family is doing to help me (my mom especially, and also my dad and uncle) but I also wish they could just be here to do it for me because I am not adult enough for this! I don’t know what I’m doing! I keep trying to tell that to my mom and uncle because they don’t want to like, barge in on my business or whatever and I’m like please! Take over even! But at the same time I’m also hesitant to ask them for help even though I shouldn’t be because I don’t want to bother them and I feel like I should be handling things more myself. But almost every step of the process so far, every time I send my mom and update of what I’ve done she’s like, oh no, you should have talked with us before you did that. Not because I’m messing up super hugely but I’m still kinda messing up minor things that could add up to be bad for me and she just wants to make sure I get the best deal out of this situation.

This is why I hate being nicknamed the “golden child”, no matter how much anyone might be joking when they say it. I barely ever know what I’m doing, I just seem like I do. I’m just good at not outwardly panicking. But I feel like my whole life - and I keep trying to explain this to my parents but I think they still might not quite get it - almost every decision I make, especially major ones, is made because I’m too afraid of the other options. Get good grades in school? Gotta make sure it happens because what if I don’t get into a good enough college otherwise. Go straight to university after high school instead of taking a year off or going to community college or something? Gotta make sure I do that because I don’t want to lose that in-state scholarship from those tests or whatever and going in-state is easier because then I don’t have to work too hard to find housing or transportation or whatever, I just live with my parents. Parents and sister are moving to Oregon halfway through my college years? I’m gonna stay here in AZ because I know everyone here already and I won’t have to try to make new friends and I can even stay with my grandma who needs a roommate. Move in with my friend after I graduate? Might as well and she’s even doing most of the work, her and her mom, finding us an awesome apartment to live in - and I want to hang out with friends more and feel bad inviting them over to my grandma’s where even if we bother her she’d be too nice to say anything. Take a job at the bakery my friend works at? I need the money and no one else is hiring and they love my friend and now me as well thanks to her. And so on and so forth up to buying this house.

I hate living alone but I don’t think I’m strong enough to live with anyone else still (my sister lived with me for a year after she came back to AZ from Oregon because she missed friends/family here and probably other reasons too, and now it’s been a little over a year since she moved a few blocks away to go live in a house with 6 other friends, and I’m still a little devastated that we couldn’t make it work because if I can’t live in a house with my own sister who I lived with all our lives except for the few years she lived in Oregon, who can I live with where we won’t somehow both get on each other’s nerves?), so I really want a dog (have for a long time anyway but now I’m longing even more for that companionship and thinking of our family dog a lot and how great he was). But this house setup isn’t that great for a dog, especially a big one like I want, and the backyard still has debris and stuff from my uncle’s projects... so logically, let’s buy a house!! (Because I can’t rent because almost nowhere will allow you to keep a big dog, and definitely not a pitbull/pit mix like I’d probably get because that’s what our family dog was and that’s what mostly fills the shelter.)

And also there was that whole thing with the drunk/high guy getting in a couple years ago (okay I shouldn’t have opened the door at like 5am when I wasn’t sure of who it was but normally I know better and plus my cousins and sister were sleeping over at the time... it’s a long story you can ask if you wanna know) and then a few weeks before I visited Oregon this year my door getting kicked in (no one got in but this time I was alone and man! does your body get tense when you hear that bang so early in the morning and it’s just you, your phone, and your knife as you wonder if you’re gonna have to battle someone while in your pajammies - again. also another story too long for this but ask if you feel like it). I don’t even live in a bad neighborhood, it’s like half families and half college kids who don’t even throw loud parties or anything. How do I attract these things???

Anyway everyone I tell that I’m buying a house is so excited and/or proud of me. Megan, you’re 25 and buying a house what a great accomplishment, especially at your age! So responsible! So good with her money! And I smile and nod and in the moment maybe even get a little excited myself because yeah, how cool is that, me having my own whole house that is all mine? And I can have my dog now!! But then I think about how I’ll have to deal with anything that goes wrong rather than asking my landlord uncle, and it’s just so dang much money what happens if I lose this job or something? And how the heck do I think I can take care of a dog when I’m barely managing to take care of myself from moment to moment????

So there’s all that in my head pretty much constantly for a couple months, intensifying after my offer got accepted on this house at the beginning of October. Then last week I have a party and invite a bunch of friends, even a couple that I don’t see as often as some of the others and are like, sort of different circles but not exactly? I dunno. But it was a little strange, not necessarily in a bad way, because almost everyone was split into couples except for me and one of my closest friends (and her sister but I think her sister isn’t quite as... longing for a romantic relationship as we are, or if she is we don’t talk about it the same haha). And that friend and I both felt it I think, wishing more than usual to have a romantic partner of our own (although out of the four “couples” it was really only my sister and her boyfriend together, and my other friend that has a boyfriend it’s long-distance but they text a lot (it’s so cute, he better be good to her or I will travel to his country and punch him if need be) but anyway) so that didn’t help my thoughts this week, even though that stuff’s always in the back of my mind anyway it was pestering me more.

But even worse than that, I’ve been wondering if I kinda messed up my sister’s boyfriend’s visit for her, he lives in California and was visiting for the weekend. And I know she wanted to spend more alone time with him but I convinced them them to come to the Voltron party anyway (it was basically an all-day thing) though I didn’t expect them to stay the whole time, and it’s not like I forced them to stay at my house, but still... I feel like I was being kinda selfish ‘cause I really wanted them to hang out with us. But I also stopped them from going to the guest room to watch anime when they first arrived (because they didn’t want to rewatch season 1 yet again and would rejoin us for s2) and I told them we’d skip it but then I still played the last few eps of s1 because another friend hadn’t seem them... ugh I just feel bad and like I often force my likes and preferences for the way I want things to go on other people like that and sure, like I said I’m not physically forcing any of my friends to participate but pretty much all of them are also nicer than me and might not say anything if they are actually getting bored with the shows I have us marathon? I don’t know. And in this case I’m worried about bringing it up with my sister because if I did kinda ruin her time with her boyfriend visiting (he’s also the friend of the rest of us but still, I understand her want for alone time even more then since she normally has to share him with all of us in other things like when we all go to cons together) I’m not sure I wanna know especially since I can’t change it now. But if I didn’t what if bringing it up influences her to think about it that way and I retroactively mess it up???

I don’t normally doubt my actions so much, what’s in the past is done and I just try to learn from it and get better every time, but for some reason I’ve just been questioning things a lot this week and it’s worn me out more than ever. And my brain (ever since I was pretty young actually) always goes back to “well if only you had a special someone, and you were just theirs and they were just yours, they’d be able to support you through things like this and you could talk with them like you talk with your other closest friends and maybe even things wouldn’t get so bad in your brain because you’d have accomplished the one dream you’ve had the longest and wished for the most - being in love with someone who loves you”. But those thoughts sometimes hurt the worst because of all my dreams that’s the one I can’t force - I can’t accomplish it just by working harder, improving myself, or whatever. I just have to keep looking and meeting people and talking with people and I can’t even just do that since I need to have at least a good-friend-level connection with someone before actually feeling comfortable enough to have real romantic feelings for them and/or go out on a date with them (otherwise as happened once, they ask me out and I agree and then proceed to feel sick with anxiety for like 3 days - because why would they ask me out they know so little about me why would they like me enough to want to go on a date I’m going to completely disappoint them if they think I’m this cool social person when I’m just like that at cons and the rest of the year I just like to stay at home and watch things and read and sleep and write and maybe plan outings, but not go out into the world with little notice - before finally telling them I can’t do it, sorry, it’s me not you I swear). Yet at the same time anyone who is even a little bit nice to me, smiles at me, compliments me on anything, my brain goes straight to “omg what would it be like if this cool person liked you, wouldn’t it be amazing, you two would probably be so great together and go on awesome adventures and hey look at all these great scenarios even though you literally talked with them for less than a minute or maybe have never met them in person at all”.

I’m tired, friends. And I want to be there for my sister who was probably feeling more lonely this week after only a few short days with her boyfriend who I think she really loves. And I want to hang out with my cousins who are both so busy with work. And I want to do stuff with my other friends that they’re so excited to do but I’m just stuck in this... blah. I worked so hard my whole life to be that person that people could count on, the one to cheer everyone up, the one that you can always count on to be calm and happy, but I think it kinda backfired because now people expect things like me being responsible and knowing what I’m doing. And only my parents know most of the problems I have, I don’t want to burden my sister since she rarely talks about her issues and she’s had friends who (probably unintentionally, but still) take advantage of that and go on all the time about their own problems without asking her how she’s doing (at least I try to ask her, but she doesn’t often let it all out). Similarly with most of my friends, we don’t talk as much as we used to about our really big problems, maybe only going to some large stresses sometimes. And it’s really only my one friend who I can talk with about the wanting that significant other thing since she’s the only one I know for sure has wished for it as much as I have (even though we’re both totally awesome single people and know we don’t need anyone, we still would like it...) and also I know she’ll vent to me the same amount I vent to her so I don’t have to worry there. And of course... whoever reads my lengthy rambles here on tumblr knows so, there you go. 8P

Anyway I’m sure everyone who’s alive already knows life’s hard, so I guess there’s not much more to say other than I’m gonna keep chugging along, doing my best, hoping and dreaming even when it hurts (and yes, I’ll also continue to be this dramatic in writing and probably even more so in real life). I hope everyone reading this is having a better week than I have been and if not, I hope you also feel free to rant to me! Because it’s nice to feel like I’m there for someone and possibly helping even if it’s not much more than just listening... and for me getting all these thoughts out of my head and solidified somewhere else helps, even if just while I’m writing it out. 8) I hope you all get whatever comfort you might need too. <3

[julmar123]

The Umbrella Academy Season 2

“Since the second season of The Umbrella Academy is now on Netflix, I have decided to continue my fan fic. The reader is a member of the Umbrella Academy (#8) her powers allow her to become a human fire. Again this is a continuation of the 1st season’s fan fic. based on your perspective.

Season 2 Episode 6: “A Light Supper"

"Diego this is a set up”says Luther as he is reading the invitation they were given to meet up with dad. “Maybe, but er should go anyways”says Diego as he is buttoning his shirt. "says the guy who's already been stabbed once this week.”says Luther as you snicker to yourself. “oh don't worry me and him are going to have words.”says Diego. "Would you two tell him that he's nuts?” Luther asks rhetorically. “ I think we should go.” says Vanya as you simply shrug. "See?”says Diego. "Vanya, of all people, you should hate Dad the most.”says Luther. "Come, on can he really be that bad?”asks Vanya as she looks at you and Diego for answers. "yeah he is” you add. "Yeah, well let's see, he isolated you from the rest of the family.” adds Luther. "keep you hopped up on pills.” adds Luther. " And he brainwashed you into thinking you had no powers.” you add. "Jesus, this guy”says Vanya. Luther and you both nod at her reaction. “ I mean, come on, I have to meet him.”she adds excitedly. “You already know how this is gonna go. Dad is gunna play all his little mind games on us, get into our heads, and he's gonna turn us all against each other. You watch.” warns Luther pointing at you and Diego. "Luther, we're not 12 anymore. All right? We're grown ass men, and women” adds Diego however Luther simply sighs. “hey, hey, we can handle him. Wanna know what's different this time?" asks Diego. "What's that?" asks Luther sarcastically. "You got me, we go int here as a united front. No more "Number 1″or "Number 2″ "Number 8″ bullshit. From now on, it's “Team Zero” says Diego trying to lift our spirits. "Team Zero?”asks Luther confused. “Okay lets go” you say encouragingly. “All the way”Say Diego reaching out for a fist pump from Luther and Vanya, however they both look at him confused, so he decides to give up.

The time came for you all to meet with dad, you didn't really want to join the others. You hadn't seen Dad since you where a teenager, and although it was hard for you, leaving the academy and your father was the best decision you've ever made. You had tried for years to escape the emotional abuse your father had done to you, that resulted in self loathing and body dis-morphia, yet here you were walking up the stairs to the elevator to meet with your abuser. You all  individually run towards the elevator as Five gets inside. “Excuse me” says Luther as he squeezes into the elevator causing you to be pushed up against Diego's chest, he grabs your waist so you don't fall..”sorry”you say as you move away from him and near Klaus. As the elevator is going up the floors, Luther farts causing everyone in the elevator to gag from the stench. "Luther”whines Klaus as he is waving the air. "Sorry I'm nervous”says Luther defensive. "Gross dude”you say putting your shirt over your nose.  As soon as the doors open you all rush out gasping for air. You begin to look around the Tiki Lounge, "Alright, when dad gets here, I'll do all the talking, okay?”says Five trying to get us all to focus on his plan. “Fine by me”you says while taking a seat, you really didn't care to talk to him. “I've got a few questions for him myself.”says Diego “Hey, we don't wanna scare him off. he might be able to help us stop doomsday get us home.”says Five. “No, we need to figure out why he's planning to kill the president.” says Diego as you roll your eyes. “this is a matter of life and death, you imbecile.”says “okay, yeah, maybe we should take turns talking. Yeah? Here, whoever has this conch shell gets to talk.”says Vanya as she picks up the plastic shell off a near by table as you say sigh. “Vanya, we don't have time for a debate, okay?” says Five trying to calm down. “Maybe I should lead, we all know I'm a better public speaker than the rest of you”says Allison as she takes the shell away from Vanya. “Okay daddy's girl”says Diego. “oh jealous number 2?”she says sarcastically. “really? just listen to Five” you say but Diego interupts you. “Hey, no more numbers, no more bullshit, we're team zero, we are all team zero”he says. “Uh Diego, you don't have the conch.”says Luther being his boy scout self. Diego smiles at him and takes the conch away from Allison and tosses it across the room. "classic”says Allison sarcastically as the door opens revealing your worst nightmare. He makes his way towards the table with out a word. Once he sits down he begins “Not only have you burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose, conned your way into the Mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked me, but you have, on numerous occasions, called me..”he begins when he is interrupted by Klaus sitting on the table with a large drink in hand. "Hey pop, How's it hanging?”he asks "dad, my reconnaissance tells me you're not CIA, not KGB, certainly not MI5, so..who are you?” he asks. You all look around surprised. "we are your children,we're from the future. In 1989, you adopted us all and trained us to fight against the end of the world. You called us the Umbrella Academy.” explains Five. Dad looks at everyone confused, you decide to look at the table unable to look him in the eyes, your temperature began to increase, just being near him made you angry. “Why on earth would I adopt 7” he says but Allison interrupts him. "8 one of us isn't here". "dead, one of us is dead”adds Diego.Klaus begins to talk to someone behind him in gibberish. "Regardless, what would possess me to adopt 8 ill-mannered malcontents?” says Dad not believing us. “We all have special abilities” adds Five. "Special? In what sense?”asks Dad curious. “ In the super power sense” adds Luther. “Call me old fashioned, but i;m a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence.... show me”he says while looking at every one on the table. “Every body wants to see powers all of a sudden” scoffs Allison while you take a sip of you drink trying to calm down. “We're not circus animals, okay? We're not gonna bounce balls on our noses and clap our hands like seals for your amusement.”says Luther as Diego throws a knife towards dad bending it to miss him slightly and land on the wall behind him. Dad looks at him and begins to take notes on a small notebook. "What are you writing?” asks Diego curiously. “You are zero for two, young man.”he says this causing Allison to laugh and Diego to lung at dad. “he meant to do that, we need you alive”you add as Five zaps towards Diego to stop him. “now that is interesting” says Dad interested in Five's power. “Okay quick run down, Luther, super strength, Klaus can commune with the dead. Y/N's a human volcano, Allison can rumor anyone to do anything." Five says pointing at each one of you as he walks back to his seat. “Except she never uses it.” adds Diego interrupting Five. “I heard a Rumor you punched yourself in the face.”says Allison using her power to get back at Diego. " Ah! Damn it!”whines Diego in pain once he punches himself like Allison had instructed. "And you?”Dad asks Vanya. "Ah maybe we don't take Vanya for a test run.”says Luther worried. “oh yeah that's probably not a good idea.”adds Klaus, you nod in agreement. “It's fine, I can handle it” she says trying to reassure us. “last time you handled it, you definitely blew up the moon”says Allison, however Vanya begins to power up. “No Vanya don't! “yells Five as you all prepare yourselves for your impending doom.  Vanya bands the fork on the glass and uses the sound ways to make the fruit bowl explode, causing fruit to go flying everywhere. “cool” you says proudly, mostly because the fruit hit dad in the face. “This is my favorite Shirt, wow” whines Klaus as he cleans himself up. “Oops”says Vanya giving you a smile. “ that was impressive”says Luther surprised by her control. “ Look we know you are involved in a plot to assassinate the president.”says Diego as you and Five look at each other equally frustrated. “You were recently hospitalized, isn't that correct? You still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.”says Dad. “Am I? Explain this... that's you that's two days from now on the grassy knoll, at the exact spot the president's gonna get shot.”says Diego showing him the picture from the Frankel footage. Dad takes the picture and looks at them looks at Diego and says, “well, I suppose you've solved it, you've single handedly unearth m y nefarious plot... Is that what you want to hear? You fancy yourself a do gooder? The last good man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy? This is a fantastic delusion. The sad reality is that you are desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. More succinctly, a man in over his head.”says Dad belittling Diego, Your body begins to burn from anger at the sight of Diego being broken down by dad's awful words. “you're wr...wrong.”stammers Diego as a tear begins to run down his cheek, you simply get up and begin to walk towards the elevator, " Y/N! running way!”calls out Five as you walk into the elevator.

You knew this was going to happen, Luther was right dad would use his little games to manipulate us into feeling sorry for us. Diego was the last straw, you knew he wasn't going to help us, we were all stupid to think he would. A couple minutes later and everyone else come out of the building.  You wipe your tears as soon as you spot Diego and Vanya, however someone else takes his attention first. He ignore you and walks up to a black car. Vanya waves at you as she leaves with a women who you presume to be Sissy.  You spot Deigo leaving the car and you go after him. "Diego!”you call out but he doesn't answer you.  "Diego! wait!”you say as you catch up to him, you pull his arm. "Why are you even here, I thought you left?”he asks sarcastically, knowing exactly how to push your buttons. "yes okay I left but only because I was putting you all in danger” you say defensive. “ In danger? I could have used you back there, but I guess I don't matter unless I'm Klaus, oh and Five apparently, since when are you two besties ”he says angrily. “Diego come one that's not true, I was about to burn dad alive, I needed to cool off” you say irritated. “Then by all means cool off” he says before leaving you. You stood there unable to do anything, he was right. When things get tough you give up and run off.

You make your way back to Elliot's place. You walk in and make your way towards Luther and Diego, and you notice Elliot on a chair. "what the hell?”you ask then confused and scared. You notice the large puddle of blood on the floor. You begin to tear up, as you approach Elliot's lifeless body. "Holy shit”says Diego however you couldn't take your eyes off of Elliot. You felt terrible knowing he was tortured and killed.

[shadowsong26fic]

Random crossover snippet

So, I swear I am actually working on, like, Actual Projects (i.e., the next Precipice chapter should be out this weekend; plus I’m poking at some other stuff that’ll be up later, etc.)

But, in the meantime, it’s been a while since I shared anything from the Epic Crossover RP of DOOM, so here we go!

For those of you who don’t know, this started life three and a half years ago as a Star Wars/MCU crossover, generally based in the same AU as Precipice. It has since expanded to include eleven total fandoms because we are Dorks.

Obviously, while several key plot points are the same, there are some things that have played out differently in the RP than will in the fic, both because of the actions of people from one or more of the other canons and because we Felt Like It.

Anyway, some context is actually necessary for the bit I’m sharing here - this is a bit less than a year after Endor, and the postwar government is about to make Official Contact with Earth and reveal that Star Wars is, well, an Actual Place even if not 100% as portrayed in the movies. Anakin has slipped over early, because he wants a chance to see what this place is like before the hell timeline, as he refers to it, becomes something he can’t avoid.

Naturally, shenanigans ensue, and he has here run into the main characters of Person of Interest [link to wikipedia] as they’re dealing with a number of the week, which is where we join him now.

    The safehouse looked like a safehouse; generic furniture, shelf-stable food, motel art on the walls. John put his gun on the table and went to a particularly hideous abstract painting, lifted it off the wall, and opened the safe behind. Good, more ammunition. There were probably more guns around somewhere, too. Not that the other man needed any.

    The number--Cris Boyd, twenty-eight years old, con artist; taking the situation much more seriously now that bullets had actually started flying--was curled up in one of the chairs, staring blankly at a slightly-less-hideous painting on the opposite wall. The stranger had stayed near the door, leaning against the wall with his eyes half-closed.

    "What--" she stopped, cleared her throat. "What happens now? Who are you people?"

    "Concerned third party," John said. He did enjoy that explanation.

    The stranger smiled faintly. "Guess I'm a fourth party, then," he said. "You two okay? I didn't see either of you get hit."

    "I'm--I'm fine. I think," Ms. Boyd said, then looked up at John.

    "Fine," he said, and meant it for once. "You were timely."

    "Right place, right time," he said. "Guess I'm just lucky that way."

    "I don't know that I would call it luck," John said, and reached into the safe once more, looking for another phone. His had been smashed, and of course Shaw had gone somewhere else, so Finch must be having fits.

    "Yeah, there's probably another word for it," the stranger said, opening his eyes and pushing himself away from the wall at last. "But I'm glad I could help. Any idea who the shooters were?"

    "I think Ms. Boyd could tell us that," John said, giving her a steady look.

    "Um," she said. "I don't..." She fidgeted in her chair a little bit. "I talked my way into an office building, a couple days ago. I needed something for a client. But there was a secure floor that wasn't on the building specs, and..."

    "And you couldn't resist taking a look?" Aha, a phone. He pulled it out and pressed start; battery dead, of course.

    "I didn't touch or take anything," Ms. Boyd said. "Not that there was much of anything to take. At least not a lot that was portable."

    "Did you see anything in particular? Company name, what they might've been working on?" the stranger asked.

    "Bunch of servers, mostly," Ms. Boyd said. "And I overheard two guys talking about something they called Calliope."

    Oh, great, this again. John prevented himself from rolling his eyes. "And who did you try to sell that information to?"

    "No one."

    "Huh," New Guy said. "Busy guy, No One. Everyone wants to sell him things, and he wants to sell to everybody."

    "He's also everyone's only enemy," John said, in the same casual tone.

    "I mean it," she insisted. "I haven't contacted any buyers."

    "Yet?"

    "...yet," she admitted.

    "Look," John said, "you probably didn't think you were doing any harm, and you might not have been, except to yourself. Who else knew you knew this?"

    Ms. Boyd looked away. "I may have mentioned my side trip to my client. To explain the delay."

    "Who are they?" The phone beeped; charged, finally.

    "I can't tell you that," she said.

    "Because you don't know, or because you have a Policy?" New Guy asked.

    "People won't hire me if they know I'll give them up," Ms. Boyd said. "I can't give you my client's name."

    "They tried to kill you," John said. "There's a point at which the contract is broken."

    "I don't know that for sure," she insisted. "Maybe the Calliope people had better security cameras than I thought."

    "They didn't," John said, with absolute certainty. He synced his earpiece to the phone and frowned a little when he didn't immediately get Finch fussing in his ear.

    "Something wrong?" New Guy asked.

    "Maybe," he said. "Doesn't matter yet."

    "All right," he said, dubiously.

    "So...so where do we go from here?" Ms. Boyd asked. "Assuming whatever doesn't matter yet doesn't start mattering."

    "You tell us your client's name so we can take care of the threat on your life," John said. "And by we, I mean myself and my associates. Presumably the gentleman over there has his own plans."

    "I can help," he said. "I'm here anyway."

    "There you go," John said, gesturing at New Guy. "He'll help too."

    "I can't give you the name," Ms. Boyd said. "Maybe--maybe if we could get our hands on Calliope's security feeds--"

    "Bad idea, unless you're a really good slicer. I don't think we should bring anyone else into this mess," New Guy interrupted.

    "No need for that," John said. "My associates already have them."

    "What? How?" Ms. Boyd asked, half-rising from her chair.

    John merely gave her a flat look, and turned back to New Guy. "There are several other people involved already who we can turn to." Assuming he could get in touch with them.

    He nodded, taking that in stride. "Great," he said. "We could use the backup. Is this one of your rally points?"

    "No, but there are some." If all else failed he'd take them to the library, though Finch wouldn't like that.

    New Guy nodded again. "I don't know the area like you do, so your call when to move," he said. "...does this place have cameras? Be nice to get a better look at what's outside."

    John tried to imagine a place that Finch had designed lacking cameras, and utterly failed. "There are, but I don't know how to access them yet."

    "Let me see what I can find," New Guy said. "I used to work with machines a lot when I was a kid."

    John shrugged. "Be my guest," he said, and then the earpiece kicked back in. "--ese? Mr. Reese!"

    "Got you," he said, with more relief than he was willing to admit.

    "Who?" Ms. Boyd asked, while New Guy started examining the walls; probably looking for hidden panels or something along those lines.

    "Shh," John told her, and listened to Finch fuss at him for a solid thirty seconds before he broke in. "As touching as this is, I have our number and an unrelated person here."

    "Hah!" New Guy said. "Found it." He produced a multitool from--somewhere, and began opening a panel behind another one of the awful paintings. "Also, hello to your associates."

    "Unrelated person says hello," John said, and then, "He's looking for the cameras." A pause. "Finch says connect the red leads."

    "Thanks," he said, then, after a little more fiddling, got them up and running. "...okay, there's someone hanging out on the corner down there. Not sure if they're with the shooters from earlier or unrelated, but they're definitely armed, whoever they are."

    "Finch?" John asked. "No idea on our end either."

    "Great," New Guy said. "He's covering the main exit. I don't see anyone around the back, but if he's not alone, he may be herding us there. I can see a couple places in that alley where I might set an ambush. If I wanted to. Thoughts?"

    "You won't need to," John said, leaning forward to watch. This was going to be fun.

    Sure enough, a suppressed muzzle flash off in one corner said the problem was under control.

    "Okay, heading out the back, then," New Guy said. He switched to the front cameras; the guy out there was on his phone. "...probably sooner rather than later."

    "Wait for it," John said, and had the pleasure, a moment later, of watching Fusco football-tackle the guy in front and send his phone skittering across the concrete.

    "I stand corrected," New Guy said, and grinned at him. "Your team's good."

    "They're all right," John said, and went out to help Fusco zip-tie the one in front. Shaw showed up a moment later, not a hair out of place, eyeing their number and New Guy in a vaguely predatory way.

    "I still have no idea what the hell is going on," Ms. Boyd said.

    "People were shooting at you, and other people tried to help," New Guy said. "That's about where I am. Hi."

    "Hello," Shaw said. "You are?"

    "I'm--uh," he said. "Owen. I’m Owen. Concerned...fourth party, I think we decided? There was shooting, I couldn't not get involved."

    "Owen," Shaw said. "Sure. I'm Shaw."

    "Nice to meet you," he said. "Glad you and your partner out front found us."

    Shaw snorted. "He's not my partner."

    "What am I, then?" John called to her.

    "Lesser wannabe," she shot back.

    "So," Ms. Boyd cut in, "so the people hanging around outside were the same group? Or just coincidence?"

    Owen shrugged. "I'm guessing different--guys out back didn't respond the right way to Shaw. Not as well-trained. But they could just be a lesser backup team."

    "They're idiots," Shaw said, "but you're probably right. Seriously, how many people did you sell this to?"

    "I didn't sell it to anyone!" Ms. Boyd protested.

    "Earlier, she told us she hadn't had a chance yet," Owen clarified. "But I don't suppose you've done some unrelated work for a local syndicate or anything?"

    "N--" Ms. Boyd stopped, and corrected herself. "Not...recently, anyway."

    "How recent is recent?"

    "Six months ago," she said. "But I did the job, handed over the property, and got paid, so that should all be settled."

    "I love how you hit should," Shaw said. "Who was it for?"

    "I can't tell you that," she said.

    "It's like you want us to leave you to die," Shaw said.

    "My clients hire me because I'm good at what I do, and I'm discreet," Ms. Boyd said. "I don't give out their names."

    Shaw put a hand up to her ear, and then said, "Oh, okay. Well, it's not them."

    "We know who it is?" Owen asked.

    "One of them, anyway," Shaw said. "Called in a favor. Elias says hi."

    "Uh," Ms. Boyd said. "Right."

    Owen just shook his head and went back to the cameras. "Are we planning on staying here, or moving?"

    "I'm staying here until someone tells me where to go next," Shaw said, and gave Ms. Boyd a pointed look.

    "What are you looking at me for?" she said. "I told you, I can't name my clients."

    "Nice knowing you then," Shaw said.

    "You already know it was the Calliope people shooting at me," she said.

    "It's not that simple," Owen said. "Big scary projects like that have a lot of moving parts. Besides, if your syndicate friends are also after you..."

    "Can't help you unless we know where to go," Shaw said. "Got at least five clients killed."

    "Well, I don't know where to go, either," she said. "I didn't sell the information about Calliope to anyone. I don't know who's shooting at me."

    "Somehow I doubt that," Shaw said, dryly. "Somebody wants you dead."

    "Maybe someone other than Calliope," John said, reentering the conversation.

    "That's...the only thing that's been unusual in the past year," Ms. Boyd said.

    "Any chance someone from longer ago than that might've tracked you down?" Owen asked, eyes still on the camera feeds. "Former client, ex-lover..."

    "No, I don't think so," she said. "Not any exes, for sure."

    Shaw snorted, and turned to John. "So I vote we take this guy-" she hitched a thumb at Owen, "and leave."

    "Take me where?" he asked, looking up. "I mean. If there's more shooting, I'm happy to help, but I'm...sort of new in town."

    "I dunno," Shaw said. "Bar?"

    "Shaw," John said.

    "What? You heard her, she can handle herself."

    "That's not what--" Ms. Boyd said, then stopped, and took a breath. "Look. I get that you're trying to help, and that the people shooting at me actually--but my clients are private for a reason. And half the time, we use code names anyway."

    "Look," Shaw said. "You want help, you gotta help us. You're not doing that, I assume you don't want help. I got better things to do."

    "It's not that I don't want help," she said. "It's that I have a life I need to get back to when this is over, okay? Wasn't easy building up my client list. I don't wanna ruin it."

    "People don't tend to notice us," John said, feeling that it was probably time for the bad cop bit to end. Not that it was a bit for Shaw.

    "And like I said, I'm not from around here," Owen said. "Not like I'd recognize any of the names, or could do anything with them even if I did."

    "Bet Finch knows 'em all anyway," Shaw muttered.

    "...the guy who sent me into the building, where I ran across Calliope," Ms. Boyd finally said, after another moment's thought. "I don't know if this is his real name--it's all anonymous bank transfers, you...seem like the kind of people who know how it works."

    Owen arched an eyebrow. "Something tells me that the account number is a good place to start?"

    "Yep," John said. Shaw held up her phone, ready to text. "What's the name?"

    "The name he gave me was George Read," Ms. Boyd said. "Like I said, I'm not sure it's real. Account number...uh. I have it in my phone. ...which is broken."

    "Anywhere else?" John asked. "Is the SIM card intact?"

    "I have a safe in my apartment," she said. "If we want to try and get there. As for the SIM card...I don't know." She pulled the phone out of her pocket--the screen was cracked, probably beyond repair. "I think I landed on it while we were running."

    "Just a minute," Finch said sharply in John's ear. "George Read? Can she spell that?"

    "Can you spell George Read?" John repeated, obediently.

    "George is like how George is always spelled," Ms. Boyd said. "Read has an 'a' in it. R E A D."

    "...I feel like that means something," Owen said.

    Finch swore in his ear. "Delaware signer of the Declaration of Independence."

    "Well, fuck," John said.

    "Ooh," Shaw said. "I'm getting the shotgun. Those Vigilance guys are wiggly."

    "Vigilance?" Ms. Boyd said. "Great. Just great. I just outed a privacy terrorist."

    "If it's not his real name, you haven't outed anyone," Owen said, half-reaching for something at his waist, as if on instinct, then frowning faintly and resting his hands on the table instead.

    "Is he in this picture?" John asked, noting Owen's movement and filing it away for the moment. He held his own phone out to Ms. Boyd.

    She scanned the photo. "Him," she said. "I may not get real names, but I've got a good memory for faces. That's Read."

    "His name really is George," Finch said in John's ear, "but not, obviously, Read."

    "We know who he is already," John told Ms. Boyd, ignoring Finch.

    "We're shooting at him already," Shaw said, brightly.

    "So," Ms. Boyd said, "the guy who just happened to be on hand when either Vigilance or whoever started shooting at me...is already fighting Vigilance? That's a hell of a coincidence."

    "Not really," John said.

    "Groups like Vigilance," Owen said, "will find a reason to fight just about anyone who isn't one of them. Sooner or later. I don't know much about this group in particular, but I've dealt with people like them. And I can't see Mr. Reese or Ms. Shaw falling in line with people like that. So, if they've met, they've fought."

    "Yeah," Shaw said. "Plus, no offense, we don't care about you."

    "Shaw," John said again. "We will keep her alive."

    Shaw rolled her eyes. "Obviously but we weren't stalking you or anything. I heard your name for the first time today. We didn't care about you before today and after we save your life we will stop caring about you entirely."

    Ms. Boyd stared at her. "That's...is that supposed to be comforting?"

    John sighed. "Just... don't pay attention to her. What she's trying to say is that it isn't a coincidence because we are fighting Vigilance, and you just got caught in the middle."

    "Right," she said. "Okay."

    "It does seem odd," Owen said. "That Vigilance would hire you to break into a building holding something like Calliope, but not into those specific offices. ...I'm not asking you to tell us what you were hired to steal, but is it possible that Read and his people were using you as a way to test Calliope's security systems, so they could make a move of their own?"

    "Sounds like them," Shaw said. "Slippery bastards. I should get the grenade launcher instead."

    "No grenades when the number is in the room," Finch said. "Miss Shaw, please take Ms. Boyd to Ms. Morgan, and then return to the library. Mr. Reese, please bring your... new acquaintance there as well."

    "Really?" John said, feeling his eyebrows rise. "You sure?"

    "Quite."

    "Are we moving, then?" Owen asked. "...if it's somewhere you don't want me to find again, you can blindfold me, if it would make you more comfortable."

    "We're moving," Shaw said, pointing at Ms. Boyd. "You're not. Stay put."

    "I gave you the name," Ms. Boyd protested.

    "You're going somewhere safe," Shaw told her. "I'm the escort. Get your stuff."

    "Right," Ms. Boyd said, looking somewhat less than thrilled as she grabbed her purse. "...do you guys still want my phone, or since you know who Read is, are we good?"

    "We're good," John said.

    "We don't care about you anymore," Shaw said.

    "Right," Ms. Boyd said. "You mentioned." She shoved her phone back in her purse. "I'm ready when you are, I guess."

    "Enjoy Zoe," John told her. "If she offers, say yes, it's fun."

    Shaw rolled her eyes again. "Come on, Fusco's coming."

    "...wait, did he mean--" Ms. Boyd started, then stopped. "Right. Okay. After you."

    "She seems nice," John said, to no one in particular, and then, after they'd departed, turned to Owen. "We are going somewhere, though."

    "I figured," he said, and smiled briefly. "Glad you're interested in letting me keep helping."

    "Mm," John said, reasonably sure that' wasn't at all what Finch wanted from the man, but not particularly willing to disabuse him. "The blindfold will look odd."

    "True," Owen said. "...you could put it on me once we get to the car?"

    "We're not taking a car," John said. Finch had provided him with a motorcycle for this number, for reasons that escaped John, but he was not about to complain.

    "Right," Owen said. He hesitated for a moment, as if considering something, then shook his head. "Sorry, I'm out of other viable options. Even if a full-face helmet wouldn't probably also stick out, I really hate them, they make me claustrophobic."

    "You will have to wear a full-head helmet," John said, "for safety reasons, but it is at least clear glass."

    "So, a bike, then," he said. "Okay. Yeah, clear glass, I can do."

    John raised his eyebrows at him. "Good, because we don't want to be pulled over."

    Owen winced. "Yeah, let's...let's not do that. And, uh, sorry that blindfolding probably won't work, but if it helps, I'm probably not going to be in the city very long?"

    John had had some inkling of that. "Why won't it work?"

    "Because you said it would look odd?" Owen said.

    "Briefly."

    "All right, then," Owen said. "Blindfold it is. Ready when you are."