#never been scammed before guess there's a first time for everything

[hotwaterandmilk]

Welp looks like that seller who had offered me the scanner I was after has scammed me out of like $800. I mean I've disputed the transaction of course but haha will probably takes months to resolve (assuming it is resolved).

I think this may well be the nail in the coffin of me trying to do anything with scanning going forward. Those were all my hobby savings, I have nothing left now and I feel like I've been kicked in the guts.

[masterwolftfs]

THE ATTIC CLEAR OUT: THE VIDEO CAMERA

The camera was listed as "Professional Vlogging Setup - Free. Barely Used." @bstumbelerr wasn't even looking for one. But when he saw the photo, a sleek black DSLR with a flip-out screen, and a shotgun mic perched on top, something in his brain itched. The description was vague too, "Got it as a gift, never got into filming. Sat in the attic for years, want rid."

It was definitely sketchy, a free professional quality setup easy worth multiple hundreds of dollars? But he figured what the hell, isn't like they can do much other than scam email him after all, so he typed out a message to the owner, and soon arranged a time to go collect it.

The guy lived a few towns over, a place where the streetlights flickered and everything seemed rough and dodgy. His apartment smelled like incense and old electronics. He didn't say much, just handed him the camera, allowing his fingers to brush against his hand for just a second too long. "You'll like it." He said matter-of-factly. Not 'Hope you enjoy it.' Not 'Good luck.'

"You'll like it."

Like he already knew.

He should've asked questions, but the camera felt right in his hands. Heavy, and important. He thanked the old owner and left.

That night, he set it up on his dresser, pointing at his bed. The red recording light glowed like an eye. He hit record, cleared his throat. "Uh... hey. So. Um... I guess I'm trying this whole vlogging thing?" His voice sounded different - deeper, smoother. His reflection in the flip-out screen looked... better. Sharper jaw. Brighter eyes.

He kept talking. About nothing. About his day, and how stupid it felt to film himself. But the more he spoke, the easier it got to keep going. And the weirder it got.

Because every time he glanced at that little red light, steadily staring at him, a rush of warmth spread through his chest. He felt proud, as if the camera was praising him. Like it wanted him to keep going.

He filmed again the next day, and the next. Soon it was just another part of his daily routine. At first, it was just dumb little updates - what he ate, what he watched, how work sucked and he hated his job as an office worker. But the more he recorded, the more he craved it. The thrill of the camera, the call of video. He wanted to do more. Maybe he should get into streaming, he absentmindedly thought. It was like the camera did something to him. When it was on, his alouch disappeared, his voice dropped, his jokes landed smoother. He started dressing better, standing taller. Smirking at his own reflection in the lens like he was some kind of star. And the best part? It felt natural. Like he'd always been this person. Like it was second nature. The camera was just reminding him of that.

Then came the night he forgot to stop recording. He left the camera running as he got ready for bed, stripping off his shirt, his pants, stretching. The camera, of course, dutifully captured every detail. His hairless chest, his weak skinny frame, his weak stature.

When he played it back the next day to review, his breath caught. Because the guy on screen wasn't him. At least, not quite. He moved differently. More fluid, more aware of the lens. And when he turned towards it, giving a cheeky flex and wink to it, his 'on-screen smile' was wider than he remembered. Hungrier. This was a man who knew he was hot, who felt like a god among men. They looked the same, but that confidence made him look so goddamn sexy. He should've been creeped out, but he felt thrilled, excited.

And that was scarier than anything he saw on the screen.

For the first time, he saw what the camera saw. And by god, it was better than the real thing in every way.

The next day, the camera's red light blinked at him like a challenge. "Go live." It seemed to whisper. "Let everyone see you." He swallowed hard, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He'd never streamed before, only even thought about it that one time as a joke. But that undeniable itch under his skin wouldn't go away - the same restless energy that had been endlessly building since he first hit record.

He clicked "Start Streaming".

"Yo! What's up chat?" His voice came out smoother than before, smoother even than on the recordings. It was as if the mic was tuning him to something better. But no-one was watching. YET.

Two hours in, his muscles ached, but not from gaming. It was a good ache, like he'd been working out for hours. His shoulders felt stronger, bulkier, and his grip on the controller was tighter. When he flexed his fingers and biceps between rounds subconsciously, they moved with a new kind of strength and precision.

He caught his reflection in the monitor. His hair was messier, but in that 'just-right' way that streamers always had. His eyes were brighter, green where they were once blue, locked onto the screen with an intensity he didn't recognise. And when he laughed at his own dumb jokes, it didn't feel forced lile usual. It felt... natural? Yeah, natural. Second nature.

Like he was finally becoming who he was always meant to be.

Like he was just reverting to his true form.

Around half-an-hour later, a new username popped up in chat.

xXGameMasterXx: yo u funny kek

His chest swelled. "Thanks, dude!" He grinned, leaning closer to the camera. "Stick around, I'm just gettin' started." The words spilled out without any thought. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Because the camera liked when he talked.

And so did he.

The next night, he streamed again. And again the next, every day for a week straight. Each stream, new followers, each day, new confidence. The more he did it, the better he felt. The more right he felt. He found himself responding faster to the games he played, his reflexes improving, becoming more honed. His aim imprived, headshits got easier to hit, his thumbs moving faster than he could think on the joysticks and buttons. Hus voice slowly over the days dropped into an even smoother, buttery, playful rhythm, like he'd been doing this for years.

Had he?

He finished up the stream for the day, smiling proudly at his 30 follower count, and shuffled to the living room of his apartment. His roomate frowned at him. "Are you... working out?" He smirked around a mouth of food, "Nah. Just good genes I guess." The lie came easy. He supposed, it wasn't really a lie. He was changing, just not in the way hus roomate thought. His body was indeed bulkier, his arms filled out and toned from hours of animated gesturing. His posture was improved by his newly formed back muscles, supporting him comfortably even when slouched in a gaming chair all day. Even his face looked better, sexier, more rugged. The camera was sculpting him into something more watchable, more entertaining, or maybe he was, he didn't know. But he still loved it.

By the end of the next week, he had finally hit a milestone. 102 followers. The screen proudly displayed, as if praising him. They laughed at his jokes, cheered when he pulled off stupid plays. Validated him, encouraged him. Loved him. And the more they watched, the better he got. His reactions became louder, even more exaggerated. His gaming skills sharpened to near-pro level, and soon he was switching from boring games to something more fun and challenging, competitive queues and high elos that only a gamer of his mastery could achieve. His face in the preview looked like a real streamer's - confident, cocky, alive. He started thinking about clips, and about content, near constantly.

"This'll make a good moment. Better ask chat to clip it."

"Chat's gonna fucking love this."

"I should say that again, but funnier."

The camera's red watchful gaze pulsed approvingly.

Then, mid-way through a 36-hour subathon stream, it happened. He leaned back in his chair, stretching, and his shirt rode up - just enough to reveal a sliver of his stomach. Chat. Exploded.

xXGameMasterXx: DAMN bro u been liftin?

LunaLuvr99: wait fuk ur jacked lol

ValoXander: DADDY SORRY DADDY SORRY DADDY

He blinked at the comments, then down at himself. His abs weren't ripped by any means, but they were there - defined in a way that only someone who hits the gym regularly and knows what they're doing can achieve. He curiously lifted his shirt more, revealing them, and flexed an arm experimentally, and chat lost their minds.

The camera's light seemed to burn brighter.

And for the first time, he understood.

This wasn't just confidence.

This wasn't just skill.

This was something else.

And it was only just beginning.

Mere seconds after the subathon stream finally ended (it ended up running for nearly 70 hours after that flexing incident, way over the expected 36 hour runtime he'd planned for) the email hit his inbox like a lightning bolt.

"Hey Kyle! Love your content! Wanna collab?"

He stared at the name on the email, not one he recognised. Kyle? But his fingers typed back instantly "Hell yeah dude! DM me the deets." It felt right. Like he'd always been Kyle. Right? It was almost like the quiet, awkward office worker who bought the camera weeks ago never existed. Almost, but not quite.

He woke the next morning after having a weird dream. It was a dream of his past, his childhood, but not the one he lived. A better one. In the dream, he'd grown up with a controller in his hands, remembered his first viral clip at sixteen. Remembered the years of grinding, building an audience, trying slowly but surely and succeeding at becoming someone. He remembered his name, the one his mother had given him, and his username that he'd given himself to make it online, the one chat screamed in joy and aodration.

Kyle.

TheJocKyGamer.

And when he looked in the mirror that's who looked back. Rugged jaw, bright eyes, sexy shit-eating grin that cane far too easy. The body of a man who'd spent years performing, posing, knowing exactly how good he looked on camera.

Because he had.

He always had.

As always was the case by now, he went live like it was second nature. "Yo chat! Guess who's back?" He leaned into the camera, winking, rolling his shoulders. His tank top clung to his chest, tight - far too tight - but he loved it that way. Chat loved it that way. The comments flooded in.

xXGameMasterXx: Yo my bro! Sup?

LunaLuvr99: Unfair how hot u r kek

He laughed, flexing just so he could watch them lose it. "What can I say, Gaming while lookin this good is a full body workout." He chuckled dumbly, the words slipping out with ease. He sounded good, deeper, smoother. Dumber.

He winked at the camera after a particularly good round of Valorant, where he'd aced with insane skill. "Bet you'd all love for me carry ya in ranked, huh chat?" The heart emojis poured in, the cries and chants of "POGGERS", "NICE ACE", "DADDY" all poured in. He ate it up, because this was him.

The real him.

The only him.

New follower! His stream alerts popped up.

AnnonymousUser332: I see that camera did some good eh?

Kyle was confused. "Yeah bro! Course it does, it captures my perfect bod! Bet you'd love to take it's place seein this every day!" He flexed, ripping off his shirt, causing chat to erupt into absolute fucking chaos.

But for a second, he remembered. His old self, the ad, the camera changing him.

The red light pulsed.

The thought pulsed with it.

The red light flickered.

The thought dissipated.

"Well chat, you want more of this? More shirtless streams of me, your god? Better make sure to smash that follow and subscribe button, and send me some donations while you're at it. God knows this body deserves that cash!" He laughed, loudly and dumbly, watching as instantly he got 40 new subs, and countless emails of his paypal filling up with donations from stream.

The camera's light flickered one last time, causing Kyle to moan in pleasure slightly, before settling down, no longer watching. But Kyle wasn't worried. He didn't need it anymore. He didn't need the light.

Because he was the god of his stream, and his show would never end.

[ddejavvu]

For Tyler Owens x shy!reader maybe it’s their first time sharing a bed at a motel after tornado chasing? Nothing sexual just like sharing a bed and being shy about it?

Heartbeat - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

You've always been envious of the universal man-ability to fall asleep within seconds of their heads hitting the pillow, but now you're feeling the hurt worse than ever. It's well past one in the morning, Tyler's been asleep for over an hour, and you've been staring at a suspicious patch of something that's probably mold in the corner of the motel room ceiling.

It's not the nicest place, but you're stranded in the middle of a backroad stretch of Arkansas, so any place with a roof, even a moldy one, is a nice place.

Tyler's phone rings, technically set to vibrate but humming nevertheless as it lights up the room. You're expecting him to sleep right through it but he stirs, extending a lazy hand to press at the power button until it stops buzzing. Then, with a hefty grunt, he heaves over onto his side, and comes sleepy-face to sleepy-face with you.

"Oh," He starts, eyes widening from where they'd been barely open, "You're-" He clears his throat, his voice raspy, "You're awake, darlin'?"

His strong arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close, drawing you into warmth you hadn't accumulated yourself despite laying for the same length of time. You huddle into it even though there's a fire burning your cheeks and scalding your mind.

When you don't answer, Tyler rambles sleepily, "Sorry, my- m'phone was goin' off. Some scam caller, 'm pretty sure. Were you-" A yawn cuts through his words, "Awake before that?"

"Mhm," You nod, thankful for the sanctuary of his clothed chest despite it being the reason you're so flustered.

"You ever get to sleep, sweet thing?"

That's the million-dollar question. Million-dollar question meaning the one you'd pay a million dollars to avoid answering.

Your answering hum is non-committal at best, but Tyler seems to know there's a reason you hadn't flat-out said yes.

"My poor baby," He frowns, bleary but still concerned, as he pulls back to free your face from his chest. You're still encircled by his impressive arm, though, and you can't meet his eye as he stares down at you.

"What's'a matter, honey-bun?"

"Hm?"

"Why can't you sleep?" He asks, then guesses, "Is it the smell'a mildew that's comin' off of everything?"

His bluntness startles you into laughter, but you know he expects an answer from the way he maintains your gaze, sympathy shining in his sweet, sleepy eyes.

Now starts the squirming, "Um, I dunno. I guess the bed's just not too comfy," You prod at the cheaply-made mattress beneath you, "And- I think I'm just not used to sleeping with other people, y'know, and then the bathroom fan makes a weird noise even when it's off-"

Your attempts to bury the lede had failed. Tyler's brows furrow and he leans in, your nose-to-nose positioning only making your bashfulness worse as he murmurs, "Is this the first time you're sharin' a bed with anyone, sweet thing?"

Even the little details, the soft gust of his breath on your face as he watches you makes your insides crawl with mortification. You're so close, and he's so there, and he's finally figured out that you've never done anything like this before, and- god, how do you play this off?

"No, I have, I- I've had, y'know, sleepovers with friends and, um, I had a cat growing up, that kind of thing. Just not-" You break away when your eyes flicker over his, and you hold eye contact for as long as possible, "Not like this. Nothing like this."

Tyler doesn't laugh, even though he probably really wants to. Even though you've probably made a complete fool out of yourself, and he's going to snicker at your predicament with his friends later, he doesn't laugh, and instead he- he presses a soft, barely-there kiss to your forehead.

"I think I'm a little more involved than a cat," He hums gently, "Are you okay with me touchin' you like this, angel baby?"

His arm is around your waist, and his face is up against your own- that's it. He's not getting handsy, not venturing lower than necessary or trying to shove his large hands beneath your clothes.

"You're not touching me." You attempt to answer, "Or- well, you are, but-"

"But it doesn't matter what I mean by it if you don't like it. So is it okay?"

You consider the feeling of his strong arm tucking you tight into his chest, as well as the intoxicating feeling of each breath he takes being fanned over your face, a privilege you hope you're the only one to have experienced.

"Yeah," You melt into his arms, even squirming closer as he lets you lead, "This is okay. It's- I like it."

"Good." He murmurs, and you feel it more than hear it from the way you're nestled against his chest, "What normally helps you fall asleep? Cat breath?"

"Maybe," You laugh, recalling your tuna-scented companion, "But I don't know. Just- this is nice. Your breathing and," You pause, listening, "The beat of your heart."

Tyler's fingers freeze a beat before they curl against your scalp, raking gently and soothingly through your hair.

"Good." He repeats, and you swear this one sounds shakier, almost thicker than the last one, "That's it, sweet thing, relax. I'll make sure you get to sleep. And tomorrow I'll act like a gentleman, 'won't just collapse into bed and get to snorin'. before you've even brushed your teeth."

Your laugh is the last one you release for the night- the last sound altogether besides the soft breathing that evens in your chest, and it's all funneled into Tyler's chest like a prize he's won.

[lov3rachan]

Seungmine forever

Summary: Puppies would do anything for a treat and Stray Kids’ puppy agreed to go on a date for some ice cream… Did he get scammed?

Pairing: Seungmin x reader

Genre: fluff , gender neutral (you/your)

Warning: none

Word count: 714 words

Series: ValenTinder

Comment: Hope you like it! And admittedly I am becoming a bit of a Seungmin bias lol.

Requested by: no one

Written: 11.03.2025, 15.03.2025

Thanks to: you guessed it! It’s you, @skzdreamer13! Thanks for the help love

Taglist: @heartsbyani , @modesttiger , @my-neurodivergent-world , @urlocalmultigroupfan , @blueohs , @skzdreamer13

Network: @supernovanetwork

Ice cream.

Seungmin couldn’t believe that he got bribed by Felix and his partner into going on a blind date, through a dating app designed by the company nonetheless, with ice cream.

It was damn good but he still couldn’t understand how dumb he had been.

He was especially pissed, that Felix withheld all details about his upcoming date, except for the fact that he was supposed to bring his photography equipment to the Hangang Bridge and look for someone with a light blue Polaroid camera.

As he sat on a bench, he sighed.

Luckily for him, nothing stopped him from leaving at any time.

Oh wait, that wasn’t true., since he was probably going to come across his date at some show and he’d rather spare himself the drama.

All of this could have been avoided if only he had told his roommate that his heart had already been taken by you, an idol he had only met once at the MAMA awards and with whom he had barely talked ever since.

Seungmin had never believed in love at first sight, but even he couldn’t deny the interest you sparked in him.

Ever the man of routine, the vocalist started to look for you whenever he heard of you being at the same event he was going to attend.

Unfortunately, he always seemed to miss you, with the exception of some run ins at the coffee machines.

Seungmin would have liked to say that he chatted with you confidently but… that wouldn’t have been entirely true.

Well, at all. All he did was quickly get his coffee and bow his way out, his face and ears as red as they could get.

A telling sign, however, was his bright never-dropping smile.

Bored, he pulled out his camera to take a picture, focusing his eyes on the small screen in order to capture the beauty of the city, his view was covered by someone.

Annoyed, he grumbled: “Could you please move?”.

As he raised his eyes, and met yours, Seungmin blushed and stuttered: “Oh, uhm. Sorry. I…”.

With a smile, you moved out of his way and sat by his side: “What were you trying to take a picture of?”.

“Uh…” he said, before clearing his throat and at least pretending to regain his composure: “The river. I wanted to take a picture of it”.

Just like that, the conversation started to flow quite naturally.

Then a teasing remark slipped out of the man’s lips and he widened his eyes.

He had planned to bite his tongue, as he knew that his humour wasn’t always welcome and could, more often than not, scare people off.

When you hit him with a witty reply, however, Seungmin would have sworn that he had fallen in love for real.

Sure, he had come to terms with having a crush on you but he was well aware that he could never fall in love without personally knowing someone first.

Now… he could admit that he was down bad for you.

The few minutes of conversation turned into hours of strolling down the river and, much to his dismay, the day was about to be over, the sun setting already.

He was having so much fun, he hadn’t realised how the time flew.

He hadn’t even realised that, at some point, his hand had slipped into yours, fingers interlocking as if it was natural, as if it was a practiced habit.

I could get used to it, he told himself, his thumb mindlessly caressing your hand.

Then you stopped.

“Is everything okay?” He asked.

With a shy smile, you turned to him with a request: “Can I please take a picture of the sunset with you smiling? I think you’d make the sky look great!”.

Seungmin became as red as the sky behind him and nodded, embarrassed.

As he posed, with a small smile as to not show his teeth, you pouted and he felt his heart melt.

“A big smile, please? I love it” you asked and what could he do if not obliged, as he grumbled a “It’s not all that”.

When you showed him the picture, you teased him: "Like the sky has the sun, you have your smile, which i assure you brightens my day"

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage timetravel, pre pilot/child ot3 meet their redemption era selves

(I took some liberties re: /meeting/) In hindsight, visiting the US Patent office was probably not their smartest move.  Never return to the scene of the crime, and all, at least not if the job was finished. 

But they'd put a pin in going back for the time machine, and not even a really bad idea could deter Hardison from an actual time machine. Well. Portal, like Eliot had said. 

It hadn't come with an instruction manual, but the three of them, Hardison, Parker, Eliot were professionals at figuring things out on the fly . Even lost in the past. Even scattered. 

Hardison knew he just had to wait, though. They'd find each other. They'd lived through the past once, they could deal with it again, especially knowing everything they did. And it wasn't like they had to live through the whole span of years, either. They just had to find each other, put the pieces back together, scattered with them, and go home. Easier said than done--he was starting to think they might have ended up in different times--but still, the Estimated range was fifteen to twenty years, so that was only five max before they met up, right?

Hardison had gotten right to work. Ads in every major newspaper in the heartland cost plenty, but he had years of criminal practice on top of knowing what tech to invest in, so he really wasn't that worried. He guessed Eliot would be betting on sports games, like in Back to the Future. Parker... well, it was hard to guess where she was. Once he and Eliot met up, they'd have to wait for her to get to them. He did have a few things to do, first.

He knocked on Nana's door, feeling like maybe he ought to be wearing a bow tie. 

"What is it? You from the county?" she asked, when she opened the door. He could see behind her a few curious faces, including his own. Damn, he'd been so tiny. 

"Yes, Ma'am," he said brightly. He could remember this day, vaguely. The box he held was more familiar than his adult face. "I'm here to install your new computer."

"I didn't order any computer," Nana said. "Run your scam someplace else."

"It's not a scam!" he heard his own voice say. "I entered a contest at school."

He had. And he'd lost. Stupid Jake Puckett had won, a kid who could have easily afforded a computer. Alec hadn't known that though, until Hardison'd checked idly. And he wasn't about to just let all of history change. Well, all his own history. 

"You got some proof of that?" Nana asked, and Alec went  scampering off to his room to find his copy of the essay.

Satisfied with the expertly forged documents (wow! it was much easier to forge past documents when you were in the time they were from!) Nana let him in and pointed to a corner desk near an outlet. 

"You ever use your own one of these?" Hardison asked Alec, who shook his head. " just the one at school. I really won?"

"Sure did. Now, let me show you what this thing can do."

~

Eliot stood at the edge of the field, a newspaper crumpled in his hand. Hardison was in Boston, if the ad was right, and of course the ad was. No one else put that much effort into a coded message. 

He watched the football fly. In two weeks, the kid throwing it would be on a bus to boot camp. He closed his eyes. There were options.  Kid wouldn't believe him, of course. There were no secrets yet, to spill as proof. And he was too stubborn to buy the warning.  A good solid tackle, though. Break his arm bad enough...

He'd thought about it. And then about the what ifs. The blood would still be spilled, he knew that. Someone else would end up on Moreau's chain. Someone else would end up with a half dug grave for Flores, and maybe keep digging it.  Everything he'd done for money, the money'd go to someone else. Job might not get done, or it might. 

He'd be there for his mother's funeral. He'd miss Katherine Clive's. Rebecca Ibanez.  the way the drinking might have gone... he'd miss Nate Ford's.  He'd go to school, like his dad wanted, never play college ball. Study something-- art history, maybe -- but no, that was him now. Not him then. Him then would be angry and broken. Him then wouldn't have... his people.

He crumped the paper further. "Dammit, Hardison," he said quietly, and walked away. 

~

Parker had a code. Some things, you just didn't do. Some were big and flashy and obvious. Some were smaller, quieter. 

Hardison would say she shouldn't do this, she knew, and she usually listened to Hardison. He knew what he was talking about, most of the time. You can't change the past. That'd been part of the lecture before they'd gone to steal the time machine.  You can do things, sure, but you always did them. 

Well, Parker hadn't done this. No one had, back the first time she'd lived through this day. But she was doing it anyways, breaking his rule and her own. You don't steal from kids who don't have anything. 

Carefully, she picked the lock on the child's bicycle chain. 

[five-rivers]

providence 4

[Prompts used are from @kinglazrus @lexiepiper and @ash-rabbit. Special thanks to @jackdaw-sprite @datawyrms and Lexie for beta and encouragement! You can read the full fic here.]

“You know who you should ask about all of this?” said Sam, pointing the little wooden ice cream spoon at Danny. 

“Clockwork?” guessed Danny, trying not to look at the ice cream too enviously.  He'd lost his ice cream to Dash earlier during lunch.  “He's not big on answering questions.”

“Frostbite,” said Sam.  “He likes you, he's always been honest with you, and he's been around for a while.  If anyone would be able to tell you about the Observants, it would be him.”

“Plus,” said Tucker, “he can probably tell you where to get ahold of some of that stuff.  Not that all the stuff you do know how to get is going to be easy.”

Danny nodded.  He had shown them the ‘shopping list’ earlier.  It was written on a small roll of parchment (Sam had not approved), with his name at the top, as if the Observants thought he’d forget that he was supposed to get the stuff.  

“Dora, too,” said Sam.  “Although she might not know as much.  Her kingdom is still pretty isolated.”

“Oh, and what about the ghost who helped you with the box ghost that one time?” said Tucker.  “The tall scary lady.”

“Pandora?  I don’t know her very well,” said Danny.  “But I think that some of these things are Greek, so, yeah.  Probably wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

“Still can’t believe they didn’t tell you where to find all the stuff,” said Tucker.  “I mean, they’re asking you for help, and they’ve got that whole ‘see all, know all’ aesthetic going on.”

“They’re probably not supposed to give out a lot of information, or something,” said Danny.  “Their oaths or whatever.”  The Observants had been less than forthcoming about…  Well.  Everything.  They seemed direct, talking about tools and relationships and the timeline, but Danny’s questions about what tools they were going to make, how they’d be put together, how soon things would be ready after he brought the supplies, and even how long Danny had to get the things together before the world ended had gone unanswered.  

“Kind of weird,” said Sam, “considering they’re worried about time breaking.”

“If the world was going to end soon, I’d expect them to be a lot more willing to break their oaths and spend a lot less time arguing about ambition and precedent.  Also, Clockwork would be taking their help instead of being ‘stubborn.’”  He sighed.  “If it’ll make it easier for him after everything, though, I’m still going to do it.”

“Yeah,” agreed Tucker, sliding the remaining half of his ice cream over to Danny.  “Just make sure these guys aren’t scammers, first.”

“Speaking of scams and tricks,” said Sam, “what are you going to do to Dash?”

“Nothing,” said Danny, eagerly eating Tucker’s ice cream.  

Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow.  

“Come on,” said Tucker.  “You can’t blame him for not telling you.  You never approve of his pranks.”

“Sure I do,” said Sam, waving her spoon at him.  “I’ve even suggested some, remember?  With the frogs and that stupid Hummer dealership–”

There was a shriek from the hallway, and all heads turned to look.  

“Okay,” said Sam.  “What did you put in his locker?”

“One of Mom and Dad’s holographic ghost decals.  The super realistic ones.”

“You know he’s going to know it’s you, right?”

“Yep,” said Danny, finishing the ice cream and slipping under the table.  “See you in class!”

The cafeteria doors slammed open.  “FENTON, WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU–!”

Danny phased through the floor, snickering.  

.

Rather hilariously, Frostbite put on a pair of tiny spectacles to read the list of supplies.  “You say the Observants gave this to you, Great One?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “You do know who they are, then?  They’re legit?”

“The Far Frozen is aware of them,” said Frostbite.  “Our direct interactions have been few, however, and mostly only come about when someone has misused the Infi-Map.”  He peered at Danny over the top of his glasses.  

“They came to yell at you after I gave it back, didn’t they?”

“They did,” said Frostbite.  “They are not the most pleasant or understanding of company, but they are dedicated to the timeline, and they were stout allies against Pariah Dark.  Why, they predicted his fall.”

“Fall?”

“To insanity and tyranny,” said Frostbite.  “Although their oaths precluded them from acting directly.  If they say they have reason to believe the timeline is in danger now, then it is.”

Danny huffed.  “Okay.  That’s good to know.”  He floated up to peer at the list over Frostbite’s shoulder.  “I’m pretty sure that Vlad still has the Skeleton Key.  I can probably steal it from him without too much trouble, especially if I can get, um, the other me to help.  Then, the chain, they just said I had to make it, which sounds a little sketchy, honestly…”

“It is strange, but it may have to do with your frequent journeys through time, and how central you were to the, ah, cause of the damage.”

“That… makes sense.  Then, they want me to get some special type of metal, ‘chronobrass,’ and I think that must be what Clockwork uses, so I can get it from the scraps outside.”

“I do not believe it would hurt to bring such things regardless.”

“But I’m not sure where I’d find the Phlegethon, or the Styx, to get water from them, or where I’d get ‘time sand.’”

“The Phlegethon and the Styx are rivers in the Realm of Elysium,” said Frostbite.  “I think you are familiar with Lady Pandora?”

“I mean, I’ve met her,” said Danny.  “I don’t know about familiar.  It was only the one time.”

“Even so, I am sure she will aid you in your quest, Great One.  Time sand, on the other hand can be found in the Great Desert of Time, in the Time Locked Lands.”

“I don’t know where those are.”

“The kingdom of your friend, Queen Dorathea, used to be located there.”

“Oh!” said Danny.  “Okay.  That makes things a lot easier.”  

“May I ask how you intend to make the chains?”

“Oh, um, I was thinking I could make them out of ice?  The Observants didn’t say anything about size, so I figure I’ll just see if I can look at the ones Clockwork has, and then go from there, see what’s easiest to make.”

“That sounds like a wise decision,” said Frostbite.  “Although I am troubled that the Observants did not give you… more detailed instructions.  Amounts, sizes, and the like.”

“Mmm,” said Danny, agreeing with him.  He settled his elbows on Frostbite’s shoulders and propped his chin on his hands.  “Maybe the amounts don’t matter?”

“For any tool I can think of, the amounts would matter greatly.  I recall when the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep was under construction…  But perhaps the Observants have seen something I have not.  That is, after all, their calling.”  Frostbite handed the list back to Danny.  “When you begin making the chains, there are some tricks of the trade I would like to show you that we had no time for when you learned from us before.  Although, we may wish to handle any training outside of the village…”

“Right,” said Danny, tucking the list into a pocket and rubbing the back of his neck.  “My aim is a lot better, now, though.”

Frostbite laughed.  “Of course!  That is how it usually is, for young ones!  We were merely surprised by your strength.  Most of us were only throwing snowballs when we were new to our powers.”

“Really?” asked Danny.  Although he spent a lot of time in the Far Frozen, he didn’t actually know all that much about their… lives?  There had to be a better term for that…

“Oh, yes,” said Frostbite.  “The things I could tell you about my own youth…  Perhaps you would like to hear a tale or two during your checkup?”

“Um, about that…”  Danny trailed off as Frostbite gave him a disappointed look, and Danny abandoned the half-formed plan of slipping away before his doctor’s appointment.  

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate them, it was just that he was feeling fine, and being here in human form, even in the medical caves, was cold.  But Frostbite was right.  Danny’s biology was weird, and having regular checkups meant that he wasn’t going to get blindsided by a life threatening new power.  Probably.  

“Okay,” he said.  “That sounds nice.”

.

At home, Danny planned out his robbery of Vlad with Sam and Tucker and experimented with making chain links from ice in between ghost fights.  In the Ghost Zone, he worked through the rubble around Long Now an hour or two at a time.  The pile of metal scraps grew larger and larger. 

He felt watched.  

Not always.  Sometimes, the feeling waned and disappeared.  Of course, there was no way to tell if his assigned watcher had disappeared, or if they were merely being a little more subtle.  

He hoped the Observants would find something else to do once he was done.  But he wasn't counting on it.  

Every time he came across a length of chain, he examined it carefully before putting it in the pile, looking for tips on how to make his own.  Sometimes, he gathered the broken links together, soldering them into longer chains of inconsistent width with ghostly ice and pale fire.  

It wasn’t very productive, but it was fun, sticking them all together.  

He was doing it now, attaching a chain with links about the size of his thumb to a chain with links about the size of his wrist.  It was silly, and he knew enough about what chains were usually used for in machinery to know that it would be completely useless, but, well, they were useless now.  

He pinched two ends of a deformed link together, snickering.  This was definitely not the best use of his time.  If it turned out that the destruction of the timeline or whatever was on a (hehe) deadline (he’d have to find a time to use that, later), after all, he’d feel really stupid.    

(Even stupider than when he missed the late work deadline on one of the biggest Language Arts projects for the whole year, and Mr. Lancer gave him that look.)

(It wasn’t a fun look.)

But if the Observants wanted him to work on a schedule, they could stop spying and tell him, so–

“Daniel.”  

Danny jumped and twisted, the first sparks of an ectoblast forming around his fingertips before he recognized Clockwork, standing in a broken window.  Between his hood and the bandages, the whole side of his face was covered.  

“Sorry,” said Danny, letting the chain fall back into the pile.  “I didn’t–  It’s been kind of–  Oh, you know what’s going on.”

The corner of Clockwork’s mouth twitched upward even as he shifted into a younger form.  “I know everything,” said Clockwork.  

“Uh huh,” said Danny, crossing his arms.  “You’re not going to trick me with an innocent face.”

“Trick you?  What makes you think I am trying to trick you?”

Danny gestured at all of Clockwork.  

“Very eloquent.  Come.  There is something I think you should see.”

Curious, Danny followed him.  They went up a winding staircase whose banister seemed to describe an ecliptic through unknown constellations, the stars of which were represented by candles set in star-shaped niches in the walls.  Then, they walked through a series of rooms that reminded Danny of museum displays, except their exhibits were all smashed to shards on the floor, rather than on the stands.  

“You know, I could sweep this up…”

“Another time, perhaps,” said Clockwork, waving a hand over his shoulder.  

Danny lingered for a moment, looking back over his shoulder into the last room.  “Clockwork, you, um, you know what I’m doing.”

“Not following me, at the moment.”

Danny huffed and hurried to catch up with Clockwork.  “I mean, with the Observants.  Are they really making a tool that’ll help you?”

“I cannot speak as to their goals,” said Clockwork.  “Except to say that they often diverge from mine.”

“Did you… have some kind of argument with them?” asked Danny.  “Only, you said that you didn’t have anything bad to say about them…”

“I cannot speak against them, no,” said Clockwork.  Then, he stopped, drifted slightly to one side, and waved to the set of broken glass doors in front of them.  Familiar broken glass doors.  Somehow, they’d wound up in front of the workshop again.  “Our destination.”

“But,” said Danny, looking around.  This wasn’t the hall of wall clocks, but the doors were exactly the same.  “How?”

“Sometimes,” said Clockwork, “there is more than one route to the same destination.”

“Sure,” said Danny, “but usually that route makes sense.  Like, if you go north first or west first to get to something that’s in the northwest.”

“Are you so certain this route is not similarly sensible?  There are more dimensions at play than are typically accounted for by simple considerations of north, south, east, and west.”

“I guess,” said Danny, as he followed Clockwork into the room.

This time, Clockwork made his way directly to the time viewer, which had been laid face-down on one of the worktables.  Clockwork motioned for Danny to come closer, then lifted off the back panel.  Inside was a bewildering mixture of gears, rods, chains, circuit boards, transistors, spinning hard drive disks, and things Danny couldn’t even identify.  

“Let us begin,” said Clockwork, pointing at what appeared to be a glass bubble full of water.  “This is the wellspring, not to be confused with the mainspring, which is here…”

[fawnbong]

Can you write a Skipp x reader oneshot?

YESUESYES YES

---

"The apple of my eye" - Ramshackle

Skipp x Reader

Romantic

Oneshot

---

OH YEAH IH YEAH OH YEAH I ❤️ SKIPP

yes i absolutely HAVE to make the title a cheesy apple joke anyways this is my first time working on my laptop i usually do this on my phone i hope there wont b a crazy amount of typos cuz ill cry lwk

UMMM OK holy shoot so i just wrote out like a million headcanons and then scrolled back up to see its supposed to be a oneshot oh my god i have never been more embarrassed ermmmmm u get both i guess

---

I really like Skipp

He's bubbly, caring, selfless, and compassionate towards those closest to him (as well as literal strangers on the street). It's no wonder people just love to label him such endearing terms, like 'sunshine' and 'goober'. Occasionally, he's reduced to things like 'scrap' and 'street rat', but he's good at paying them no mind.

And he just loves to give them right back. He has personal, silly nicknames assigned to everyone in his life. His personal favorites are always apple-related. Those, he likes to reserve for you. Things like "the apple of my eye" or "Honeycrisp" (extra emphasis on the "honey" part). He'll coo them under his breath with shy smiles and light touches- it's how he likes to make his love known (one of many other ways).

He likes to comfort with music. He'll sit right by your side, mandolin in hand, and peer over to get a good look at your fallen expression. Sympathy is evident on his face. He hates seeing people (especially you) so sad. He'll quietly strum his mandolin, almost as if he's simply tuning it, testing the waters. And then he adds on a couple of quiet verses, mostly light-hearted, silly ones, to cheer you up. His voice, although no rockstar's, is charming, gentle, comforting, and occasionally, he has to take a quick breath or pause to brainstorm another verse. It only adds to the gesture.

Honestly, if you cry, he probably cries too. It's partially because he shares your pain for whatever reason/feels super sad to see you in such a state, and partially because he doesn't want you to feel embarrassed for being the only one crying. He's happy to take the attention off of you as long as it temporarily alleviates your pain.

Skipp has "secret brain". He seems like an airhead, even up close, as if he thinks everything is sunshine and rainbows. But, truthfully, he's just optimistic and has a generally positive outlook on life, and he's actually very street-smart. He knows his way around the town and can pull off some successful scams, some of which actually leave his companions stunned. Also, he's pretty strong. He's agile and, as most scraps do, has a healthy amount of muscle despite being malnourished a lot of his life. He's "squishy", too, and a real joy to cuddle if that's something you're into.

Skipp, despite being in (almost) constant fight-or-flight mode, holds his morals high. Even though he has to commit a multitude of crimes to survive, he favors the more moral ones. He'd rather not commit atrocious crimes, especially not in front of a significant other. Of course, he'll do what's necessary and, as seen in the pilot, can and will get violent if warranted. He even does the whole "this one's for you honeybee!!!!" (GAG EWWW EW EW EW) with a dorky smile before running head-first into an angry mob and potentially getting his shit rocked.

Nature-centered gifts are his thing. He's a huge "hippie", or the equivalent to one in his era, and holds a lot of respect and love for nature. He hopes you do, too, because you're getting a bunch of hand-picked wildflowers, apples, funny-looking tree branches, more apples, oranges, and really big crunchy leaves that are in perfect condition so that you can crunch them, and it's all satisfying. He'll also find some "junk" in some alleyway and clean it up to the best of his abilities to gift to you. Anything shiny catches his attention. He also likes to make sure you're eating enough, despite how scarce food can be. He'll hand over his morsel of food in a heartbeat if you're still hungry, disregarding his own growling stomach.

ummm ok oneshot time bc i actually forgot. I kinda wanted to make it more like a comfot thing bc i do like the idea of him using music and stuff to help,, esp if they're not rreally feeling a deep convo or wahtever SORRY I PANICKED IDK WHAT IM DOING AND IDK HOW TO SAVE A DRAFT ON A COMPUTER

---

You huff, visibly distraught. Your furrowed eyebrows and tear-streaked cheeks make it ever so evident as you crouch pathetically in some deserted alleyway. It's not like you want to look like a wet cat, moping in an empty, trash-ridden alley. You simply had a 'bad day'. That's how you put it, at least, when conversing with Vinnie, before wandering off to some secluded area to sob your heart out. That's what Stone would do. The thought makes you temporarily recoil. You keep crying, regardless. Skipp says it's good for the soul to have a little cry every now and then, anyway, and you don't recall his advice every leading you wrong.

So, you continue to sulk in the miserable little alleyway. You can count your lucky stars that it's not raining, at the very least. You groan and rest your aching head against your knees.

And then you hear the faintest footsteps. You hope whoever it is, they'll leave you alone. An item hits the floor with a quiet clunk, and it sounds wooden. You tilt your head to peer at the intruder, and take back your previous complaints and wishes of wanting them to go away.

It's Skipp (accompanied by his mandolin, of course). It's always Skipp. When is it ever not Skipp? He looks concerned, as most anyone would when approaching such a show. You wipe your tears with a sniffle and muster up a small, tired smile.

"Hey, sorry. I didn't, like, freak you out or anything, did I?" you ask, your voice a little hoarse. Skipp's eyebrows knit together as your weakened voice fills the otherwise silent alleyway, though he still returns your smile with a toothy one of his own.

"Freak me out?" he repeats with a laugh as he gets situated on the rough ground. He reaches over and grabs his mandolin, setting it over his lap and strumming a quiet, pleasant tune absentmindedly. "Of course not! I'm more worried about you, to be honest." He gives you a sympathetic look, shifting to sit closer. You're shoulder-to-shoulder now. You lean into him slightly, and his hair tickles your face.

"What's up?" he asks, his voice having grown quiet with worry. You wave it off with a quiet hum.

"It's no big deal."

"It is to me."

You want to rip your hair out, but not out of frustration or anger. A couple of tears slide down your cheeks and, before you realize it, you're crying again. You internally curse yourself out and bring a hand to your face to hastily wipe them away. Unfortunately, Skipp has beaten you to it. He already has his thumb on your cheek, swiping away salty tears. You crack another small, genuine smile.

"I won't press if you don't want to talk about it, but," he pauses, gives you another warm smile. His hand falls to your shoulder and he gives it a gentle squeeze before returning to his instrument. "I'm always happy to listen."

His words allow you to relax a little bit more. You lean against him fully, now, as he makes up a song on the spot. It's both upbeat and slow, quiet yet loud enough to portray some story he made up in his head. He includes all kinds of silly metaphors and probably made-up words. Every now and then he pauses to inhale sharply or make up yet another storyline for his seemingly endless song. It makes you laugh, which makes him smile.

Once he finishes, he sets his mandolin aside and turns to properly face you, leaning into your personal space for a split moment to press a quick, feather-light kiss to your cheek, nearing the corner of your mouth, before simply continuing strumming his mandolin with redder ears than usual. It leaves you confused and stammering, and unsurprisingly, wanting more.

---

A/N: ok so thats where im ending it

oh boy my hands are FREEZING OH MY GOD its so hard to type w cold hands omg

right so anyway sorry both the hcs and the oneshot are lwk kind of short?? clearly i have a favorite lmao

i struggle a little with onceshots cuz i cant develop plots or ideas past silly tidbits of info so this tends to be as good as they get

[dinodanicus]

you can skip this wall of text its just about the scam this illustration was involved in.

This fairly ordinary illustration of two hands holding was involved in a very weird and convoluted scam. Last month I was commission to illustrate this image for invitations meant to go out for a supposed wedding anniversary coming up in March. The whole commission seemed odd to me I mainly draw dinosaurs and aliens. Not many people know I also draw people but the buyer who called himself Petterson Reid was offering to pay 300 up front and 200 after the work was finished. A nice offer for what was a very simple illustration. I took the job and sent him a very rough sketch of the hands to show him what the final image might look like. He liked the sketch and told me to finish the image after he sent the first payment I went ahead and finished the image that night. I held onto the picture to see if he would really send the 300 dollars first. The buyer wanted to send a check by mail which is weird but I thought he might have been a boomer who didn't understand how to use PayPal. His emails and text seemed like something my grandmother would write very proper and overly polite. I was fairly suspicious of him and waited to see if a check would actually be delivered. To my surprise a check did arrive a week later from Petterson Reid except it was for 2,790 dollars. knowing this was far too much money I asked him if it was a mistake. He said the extra money was for a PayPal invoice to the printers involved in the invitations. He wanted me to use the extra money on the check to pay the printers on his behalf. Again very weird but I chalked it up to an old person who didn't know how to pay online. I cashed the check the next day, since it was from an out of state bank they were putting it on hold for 3 days to see if the funds would clear. I told the buyer about the three day waiting period and asked for the invoice I was suppose to be paying and he went absolutely ape shit. He claimed I was trying to steal his money and was threatening to pursue legal action I was completely shocked by the change in attitude. I had to mute my phone because he kept sending wave after wave of threatening texts. At this point I was 90% sure this was some sort of scam but when I called the bank they said there was nothing to do until the hold expired. I was confident it wouldn't then to my surprise the check cleared and the money was in my account. At this point I had the finished artwork and the money so I wanted to get this crazy asshole on his way so I wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. I told him to send the invoice for the printer and I would pay it with the money on the check then I would send the picture and our business would be done. This prick sends some half assed looking invoice with a payable link on PayPal. When I try to pay, it says payment will be held till Feb 7th. Apparently this date is too late for the printers so now that processing payment has been canceled by the printer in favor of a new payment process through Zelle. I was trying to figure out what was going on, if its a scam what is the take the entirety of the check was still in my account it didn't even say it was pending. I go to pay on Zelle and discover the 2,790 dollars has been rescinded by the bank. I call and learn this ass hair had sent a forged check to the bank in an effort to have me pay these fake invoices with my own money. He guessed the bank would deposit the check without fully vetting it for the standard 10 days since I'm a long time member. He knew he had until about five a clock that day before the bank would catch the discrepancy. He was posing as the printer in order to scam 4,740 dollars from me through both attempted payment methods. luckily for me I'm broke as hell right now and didn't have the money in my own account to cover either payment with out the check. everything has been taken care of now I just thought I better share this story since I've never seen a scam like this before. It took an entire month for him to essentially get nothing I really don't know what to think of any of this its such a weird scheme.

[enchantingfirenightearthquake]

Umbrella Academy Rewrite: A Normal Party

The Hargreeves siblings’ phones had been ringing all day. Little Grace’s birthday was tomorrow, and Diego’s siblings were all absolute dicks for not RSVPing.

“Diego darling, I love you very much, dear, but you’re being ridiculous. Your brothers and Allison will be there. They haven’t missed any of little Gracie’s birthdays before. Why would they start now?”

Diego sighed heavily as he looked at his mother. Grace had taken Reginald’s death hard when they first heard the news. It was nice to see her happy again running around after all the little ones.

“It’s the principle of the matter, Mom. They know when her birthday is. They know we’re throwing a party. If they aren’t going to be decent and tell us in advance, then they’re going to be hearing about it all day.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, someone picked up.

“Diego, my brother, I love you, you know this, but calling me twenty-seven times is a bit excessive, even for you.”

Diego rolls his eyes at Klaus. Grace wanders into the view of the phone’s camera to see her other child. “Hello, Klaus.”

“Namaste, mother dear. How are you on this glorious day?”

“Ok, seriously, be honest with me, are you a part of a cult?”

“Diego!”

“What? It would explain everything.”

“Is that Diego?” Klaus switched the camera so it was looking at Ben, who was sitting on the couch watching some documentary.

“Hey Benny!”

“You have a serious problem. You know that right?”

Diego rolled his eyes again. Before anyone could respond, Five’s name appeared on the screen.

“Hey, Five.”

“Is there any reason you felt the need to keep blowing up my phone all day?”

One by one, Diego’s siblings ended up joining the call, all of them questioning what was wrong with him.

“Hey, if you fuc-freaks,” he corrected as Grace threw him a look, “didn’t want me to bother you, you should have spoken up sooner.”

“Diego, I thought someone was dying with the way you wouldn’t stop ringing,” Viktor commented.

“Yet you didn’t think to pick up sooner?” Allison teased.

“I’m busy! And you didn’t either!”

“So, you’ll all be there?”

“Yes, Diego. We’ll be there,” Luther placates. “Are you done interrogating us or are we all free to go?”

“One second. Before everyone goes, I want to talk to you guys about something,” Five interrupted. “Have any of you gotten a weird feeling around Delores?”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know. I woke up this morning and I just got this feeling something wasn’t right.”

“Five, you’re probably imagining things,” Allison points out. “You were telling me the other day about the big promotion you just got. It’s probably just the stress related to that.”

Five didn’t look convinced but he chose to let it go for now.

As Klaus hung up, he wandered over to the couch to sit with his brother. “Did mom look older to you?” Ben asked as his brother got comfortable.

“Pretty sure people are supposed to look old when they get old, buddy.”

“Yeah, sure. But I feel like mom never has.”

“Is the reason you think something is going on with mom the same reason you keep staring at me?” Ben shrugged sheepishly. He hadn’t realized Klaus noticed him staring too. As Ben continued to let his mind wander, the older of the two looked at the clock on the TV. “Hey? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for work?”

“Yeah, but I’m planning on quitting. Pretty sure it’s a crypto scam.”

Klaus threw his head back and laughed. The two brothers continued to watch the documentary in silence. It was about the Vietnam War.

Halfway through it, Klaus started complaining. Something about the uniforms being wrong. Or that’s not how this battle happened. Or other things Klaus couldn’t possibly know.

“Where are you getting all this from?”

The question stops Klaus right in his track. Where was he getting this information? “I…I guess I heard about it from somewhere. Maybe one of my homeless buddies.”

Ben hummed in agreement, but Klaus could tell the other didn’t really believe him.

And the other man didn’t. Ben too had been getting weird feelings or random pieces of information that didn’t add up. Klaus was his family. So were the other Hargreeves siblings. They had grown up together. Knew everything about each other. And yet…

Ben looked at Klaus again as he continued ranting about Nam.

And yet it sometimes felt like he didn’t belong. He felt closer to Luther’s wife, Sloane, than his own siblings some days. The two were thick as thieves. Like she was his sister instead of Allison. He kept having dreams. Of getting shot. Of dying. Of him and Sloane and five others being raised by Hargreeves. Of watching them die.

He wants desperately to be wrong about the sick feeling that’s seems to be continually growing in his gut.

***

Marcus watched the guests file into the party. It was taking everything in him not to rush in and grab his brother and sister. How could Ben be normal around these weirdos? Why would Sloane start a life with the man responsible for her siblings’ death? Did he and the others mean nothing to them?

“You’re thinking too hard.”

Marcus turned to the woman sitting next to him. She was playing with a butterfly knife. As far as the other Keepers went, Marcus liked Raya well enough. She didn’t talk much and believed in efficiency above all else. Marcus respected that. Hopefully, when this was all over, they could meet again in the True Timeline.

“Sorry. Can’t help it.” Marcus leaned against the steering wheel. “I grew up with them. Seeing them interact with our murderers is really fucking with me.”

“They don’t remember you.”

“I know.”

The two continued to sit in silence as the night went on. The Keepers weren’t sure how they came to be in this timeline, but Ty had the theory. Examining some of the artifacts showed his brother and the six other ‘Umbrellas’ as being directly involved somehow. They were to be approached with extreme caution.

Finally, their moment was upon them when Viktor stepped outside by himself.

***

Sissy was starting to get nervous. Viktor had gone out awhile ago to get some air and Grace’s gift from the car, but she hadn’t seen him since. She had asked a few people about it, but so far, no such luck.

In her search for her husband, Sissy bumped into someone. Looking up revealed it to be Ray, who had been talking with Dave. Out of everyone in the extended Hargreeves family, Sissy got along with these two the best. Maybe it was because they all grew up in Dallas. Maybe it was because they felt like outsiders in this family. Whatever the reason, she enjoyed their company.

“Hey, Sissy. Are you alright?”

“Have either of you seen Viktor? I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Viktor’s a big boy, Sissy. I’m sure he’s fine.” Looking at Ray, Sissy could tell something was wrong.

“Are you alright, Ray? You seem down.”

Raymond sighed. “It’s nothing you have to worry about. Just relationship issues. You know how it is.”

Sissy did. Though not with Viktor. Her and Carl used to argue a lot. Mainly about Harlan. It had gotten worse after her affair with Viktor was revealed. The details are fuzzy, but Sissy couldn’t be happier to be divorced from that man.

As for Ray and Allison, well, Sissy couldn’t figure out what the problem was. They seemed perfect together. Sissy never got the impression that either of them were abusive like her ex. But Ray claimed Allison had become emotionally distance, like she wasn’t always present with him and Claire. Ray had also admitted how he sometimes felt like he was out of place somehow. Not just in the family, but in general. Sissy and Dave understood. They felt like that too.

“Well, if you ever need an ear, I’m your girl. And if you see Viktor send him my way.” Maybe he was still outside, she thought as she headed for the door. As Sissy reached her destination, she ran into another body.

“Oh, terribly sorry Sissy. Didn’t see you there.” A lengthy man with a scruffy beard, glasses, and big ears stood in her path.

“Hello, Pogo. Sorry, I’m a little busy. Have you seen Viktor?”

“Afraid not. I just got here, dear. But I’ll let him know you’re looking for him if I see him.” Pogo gazed around the room as Sissy passed him. Spotting who he was looking for, he quickly and quietly made his way over to his target.

“Still trying to sneak up on me, Pogo?” Grace asked as her friend got nearer towards him.

The man sighed as his kissed his friend’s cheek. “I really should know better by now. One doesn’t raise seven children without having super hearing.”

Grace turned to face her friend and paused. “Did you do something different?”

“Different?”

“Yes. I can’t put my finger on it, but you look different somehow.”

Before the man could respond, several bodies barreled into him. Looking down revealed Little Grace, Elijah, and Noah. “Pogo, you came!”

Behind them, the birthday girl’s father was close behind to greet the family friend. “Pogo, glad you could make it!” Diego pulled the other man into a hug. When they released, he titled his head. “Did you do something different?”

“Your mother said the same thing. No, I’m the same as always.”

“Hm. Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working!”

“Diego!” Lila called. “Get over here! We’re getting ready to cut the cake!”

“That’s our cue! Come on birthday girl.” Diego lifted up his giggling daughter and slung her over his shoulder, with the rest of their family close behind them. The birthday song and cake cutting was going well until Sissy ran up to Luther and Sloane halfway through.

“Hey, Sissy. Everything alright?” She was clutching something close to her chest.

“Something’s wrong. I-I can’t fine Viktor anywhere. I think something bad happened to him. I-I-.”

“Wait, ok slow down. What’s going on?” Sloane asked in attempt to calm the other woman.

Sissy took in a deep breath. “We accidentally left Grace’s gift in the car. Viktor offered to go get because he needed some air. I didn’t notice it at first, but he was gone for a little too long.” As Sissy talked, Luther saw Allison make her way over to them. “So I went outside to go find him. He’s nowhere.” She held up what she was holding. “And I found the gift we got on the ground. He wouldn’t just leave. What if something happened to him?” She started freaking out again.

“What’s going on?” Allison asked she reached them.

“Viktor’s missing. Have you seen him?”

His sister shook her head. Looking at her brother’s partner, she asked, “You’re sure he’s gone?”

Sissy nodded. Then she handed a piece of paper to Luther. “There was also this.”

Luther read the note out loud with Sloane and Allison looking over his shoulder. “Dear Umbrellas. Do not worry for your brother. He is in safe hands. Come to Grossman’s Laundromat to get answers. No cops. Sincerely, Your…Family? What family?”

“Who the ‘Umbrellas’?” Sloane asked.

“Who cares? We should call the police, right?” Sissy all but begged.

“No.” Everyone looked at Allison. “We don’t know what they’ll do if don’t follow their instructions. Let’s just grab the others, and we’ll go see what they want. Besides, Diego’s a cop.”

Luther looked like he was debating it, much to Sloane’s horror. “Don’t. Luther don’t.”

“Sloane, he’s my brother. I have to go. If we call the cops, and they hurt them, I’d never forgive myself.”

“And if you get hurt? Then what?”

Luther kissed the top of his wife’s head. “I won’t be alone. I’ll have my siblings with me. We’ll keep each other safe.”

Sloane still didn’t like that, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to change her husband’s mind. Sloane watched as her husband and his sister gathered the rest of their family and walked out into the night.

[stanofwar2]

Journal Entries 1, 3

Journal Entry #4!!! I had so much fun getting this Journal entry done, I feel like I just unlocked a new skill while drawing the pictures

Transcript/Clear text below

June 29th

Hello! It’s been about a week since I last wrote in this. Guess I lost track of time watching the kids (mostly bingeing Ducktective with them, odd but cute show) Ford has been busy doing.. Well I’m not sure what beyond it being of “grave importance” as Dipper put it. So I’ve been getting to know Stan some more in the meantime. He’s a tough nut to crack, at least when it comes to more personal stuff, which is understandable. But he is more than happy to go on and on about all his past schemes and crimes, and especially all the extensive trouble he got in because of these events. He always manages to get me to laugh at just how ridiculous they are. I mean, pug trafficking? Ridiculous!!

When he brings up stuff from last summer the kids will often intervene and add to them, adding a new light to these fantastical tales. I’m not sure how much of it is real and fiction. I’ve been dealing with the supernatural my whole life but Stan doesn’t seem like the type to believe in that stuff. Just make stuff up to scam ignorant schmucks. But he never corrects the kids, just laughs on and collaborates with them. It’s always sweet to watch. He probably is just fanning their creativity, letting them enjoy their remaining childhood wonder before their teenage angst kicks in.

It’s always nice to entertain them with Stan, but I’ve been enjoying the mornings more. I’m not sure when it started to happen, but in the early morning hours me and Stan will convene in the kitchen, make some fresh coffee, then go and sit on the porch and watch the sunrise, all the while talking about nothing and everything all at once. My best guess is that this started when I had walked in and saw he was already awake, saying he has a hard time sleeping sometimes due to running the shack for so long. I gave my reasons, saying that I’m used to getting up early for my job so I sometimes just wake up before the sun has even risen. He just gave me an understanding nod, offering me some fresh coffee, pouring me a mug full before I answered. Then while I was sipping I looked over and saw the sun rising, making a small comment on how pretty it was. Stan cleared his throat, asked me if I wanted a better look while hooking his thumb to the back door. And after saying “Yeah”, we were both outside quietly watching the sunrise. Now we’ve been doing it sense, Stan always looking relaxed, so at peace in the early morning light. (I’ve been stealing glances at him, almost got caught a couple of times)

Stan is always the first to turn in, getting some breakfast started before the kids wake up. I wait a little longer, sometimes moving in the space he was sitting in and enjoying the warmth. Then I’ll turn in, heading to my room to get dressed, greet the kids, and enjoy our breakfast. Though Mabel has been eyeing me the past 3 days, with this.. Almost knowing look? I usually catch her while Stan is talking, making small jokes at us and earning a chuckle from me. What does she know?  And I swear that look was even more intense today.

So today was hot as balls, a heat wave passing through and practically suffocating us. We had all the fans blowing, drinking cold drinks left and right, but it was fruitless as the wave reached its peak in the afternoon and we just couldn’t take it any longer, Stan, who was laying on the ground hoping for the wood to cool him down, finally snapped and suggested we all go to the pool to cool off. The kids cheered, getting up and running upstairs like bullets while I and Soos pried Stan off the floor. Then we all changed into our swimwear and headed down to the pool. Dipper talked about how last summer he had taken a job there to hang out with Wendy, but got in trouble and was promptly fired by Mr.Poolcheck (creepy guy, just real unsettling), the owner of the pool. Mabel added how she had met a merman named Mermando who was trapped and she helped him escape, Dipper risking his job for her, as well losing his first kiss giving him reverse CPR. (Dipp did not like her bringing that up) And Stan had gotten himself and their family banned after he had broken in to steal a spot from this kid named Gideon. Though the ban was lifted after what had happened last year. When I asked what had happened, they all just stammered and were talking over each other with varying excuses that it wasn’t important, which made the whole thing smell fishy. Maybe I can ask Ford about it?

Anyway, we got to the pool and picked our spots. The kids instantly jumped in, coming up and calling me over to join them. Stan demanded they get back and get some sunscreen on, to which they groaned but came back up. I just chuckled and took my shirt off and put it down, then nearly jumped out of my skin as Mabel gasped as loud as she could, pointed at my chest and asked me what had happened to me. I was confused and looked down, quickly realizing what she was talking about. My top surgery scars. This got everyone's attention, Soos and Dipper oohing and reiterating her question, Stan making a joking inquiry if I had gotten in trouble with the law. No doubt I was flush, though it was hard to tell with the summer heat. I just told them the truth. That I am trans, had started transitioning in my 20’s and had saved up a lot of money to get my surgery done. Mabel said that was awesome! Stan made a comment on how I was literally a self made man (wasn’t that funny but I couldn’t stop smiling at it. Maybe because I wasn’t expecting him to be so chill about it?) Dipper and Soos thought it was cool, Soos asking me if it was painful. I answered their questions but eventually shooed them, telling them it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Once that was over, we all moved on to sunscreen up. The kids got done quickly, too quick in my opinion, then rushed back to the pool. Soos was close behind, and Stan. Well Stan didn’t bother since he was in the shade and wasn’t planning on getting up anytime soon. I was almost done, making my way to my back, but when I tried to reach back a sharp pain shot out. I had twisted my back while roughhousing with the kids 2 days before. Stan heard me nearly yelp in pain, asking what was wrong. I told him and he just chuckled, completely understanding my plight, then he offered to help me out. I must have been bright red because he told me, “Don’t worry about it toots, it’s not any skin off my back.” Wish he’d call me that more often. I thanked him and turned around and moved my hair out of the way as he generously spread the sunscreen on. It went on longer than I thought it would, his rough, calloused fingers working the sunscreen meticulously. I swear it almost seemed like he was trying to give me a massage with the way he pressed and rubbed at my sore muscles. I made a small joke about it, earning a waverly chuckle as he quickly ripped his hands away. I wish he kept going. I thanked him and got into the pool, feeling much better with the cold water on my burning skin.

The rest of the day is kind of a blur. We played, splashed, and I swear Mabel was staring at me whenever I got out to sit down next to Stan in the shade. I even had fallen asleep for a little, woken up by Stan so we could gather our stuff and head back. But before we could leave, Mabel insisted on taking a picture with me to put in her scrapbook. I obliged and am waiting to see it as soon as she’s done. We left, got home and got changed, watched some TV before Stan ordered some pizza. Now I’m just chilling, feeling exhausted but happy.

Okay so I was getting some soda a few minutes ago and I passed Mabel’s scrapbook on the table, guess she was getting some more glitter or stickers or something. Anyways I took a look and saw whatever she had in there, then I found these! (She has extras, guess in case they get damaged)

I don’t know what shipping is, but she said was doing that with me and Stan! But she had drawn a bunch of hearts around them, so I think she thinks we should date! Which, well.. I’m not sure how to feel about it, I mean Stan is attractive and nice but, we’ve only known each other a couple weeks, we’re still strangers, barely even friends. I mean, I would classify him as a friend, but I don’t know how he feels. Gods I should stop thinking about this. Mabel is just reading too much into this, that's all.. Right?

UGGGHHH!! I need to sleep. Anyways, until next time.

-Leon

[ladylooch]

Why Emma Stayed - [Timo x Emma]

Summary: Timo and Emma revisit the very beginning of Emma’s pregnancy with Lio.

Word Count: 2.4k

It was a conversation long coming between Emma and Timo. 

He had wondered some things in the beginning. Questions he never asked for more details on because he was too busy trying to make their world perfect so Emma would stick around with him. Then time passed. She went home. He joined her. And before they could fully wrap their head around becoming parents, Lio was here.

Those first few weeks of his life were blurry bliss. Learning everything they could about their son and taking care of him together. When they returned to Jersey, life shifted again. Now, here they were, settled into life with a 9 month old, but Timo still had lingering questions about what it was like when this journey first started. Back when she was home and he was here in Jersey, wondering if they would ever actually get the chance to be together. 

Timo and Emma were laying in bed together, naked, basking in the afterglow of their evening activities. Timo’s fingers spread along Emma’s ribs, careful to not tickle her sensitive sides but wanting to hold her close. Emma talks where she lays on his chest about what her and Lio were up to while he was gone. It sounds like a lot of quick trips to get coffee, pastries, and mommy and me yoga that Emma insists is a scam. 

“Oh and then Sunday we had the baby shower for Siegs’ fiancé.”

“How was that?”

“Good. Nicole did a great job. It was fun to like… reminisce. One of the party games was this guessing game of real or fake and it was different parts of pregnancy. Like saying wacky cravings and we had to guess if they were hers or made up. Or like crazy stories of how she knew she was pregnant. I guess she found out she was pregnant at a concert in the bathroom. It was so similar to mine, so we bonded over that.”

“A public bathroom.” Timo murmurs thoughtfully.

“Yeah, nothing like a life changing pee in public.” Emma giggles.

“I feel like we never really talked about that for you.” Timo says as he drags his finger tips up to her back. Goosebumps bubble beneath his finger prints. 

“It was certainly a memorable day.” Emma says, a hint of a smile in her tone.

“Will you tell me more about it?” Timo asks, playing with her hair now. Emma is quiet on his chest for a moment, long enough that he isn’t sure if she is going to answer. 

Then, shy, she responds. “Yeah, but don’t judge me?”

“There’s nothing to judge.” He responds, dropping his mouth into her hair. Emma goes quiet again then she slowly crawls off his chest. The sheet drops down, exposing her bare body to him. 

“I found out I was pregnant with Lio at an event.” She tells him. “My symptoms were… like I was run down or maybe getting sick.” She shakes her head as she says it. “Nothing really that made me think I was pregnant. I would fall asleep right when I got home from work, but I had been working a lot. I didn’t like certain smells - eggs were a bad smell even early on.” Her hand stretches over his chest and she begins to draw circles there. Timo’s eyes don’t leave her face. They stay glued to her, watching every expression, soaking in each tiny detail she says and doesn’t. “Um, wine tasted weird. Like wine I always enjoyed. I would pour myself a glass and have two sips before I would give up.”

“But, I was at a Christmas party event for one of our long term clients and I was so queasy. I had thrown up the previous two days and I woke up that day, feeling okay? Kinda like I would happen after I got here, where I would have a few bad days, then a good day, then back to bad in the first trimester. So, I thought I cleared whatever was going on and went to work that day, but I kept running to the bathroom to throw up. The meal was so strong with onions and asparagus, I was gagging every time I walked by the kitchen.” Emma shakes her head.

Timo’s hand glides over hers on his chest. He flattens her fingers there so she can feel the heavy beating of his heart. Hearing her recount this, he feels nervous. Emma must feel it because a small smile tilts her lips. 

“I texted Rhea that I was in the bathroom and to start working on coordinating end of the night activities, including dessert. There was not a staff bathroom at this venue so I was throwing up in the midst of the event attendees. Eventually, Rhea came to find me and caught me in the bathroom alone. At that point, I started to think… maybe…” Emma trials off. 

“Were you late?”

“Well… I didn’t think so because I had something.” Emma informs him. “But, when I saw my doctor she said it was likely implantation bleeding. It was light and only lasted a few hours, but I was stressed so I ignored it. I’ve had issues with my period when I’d been working really long hours like I was at the time.” Timo nods. “But then I was sick like that and it felt very different than I had experienced before. Like something else was taking over. I can’t explain it much more than that.” Emma pauses. “Rhea said it out loud first and I was so annoyed with her because I wanted to pretend that wasn’t a possibility. Then she said she would be right back and came back with a test. I felt forced to take it. I really didn’t want to. Looking back, I think I knew and I didn’t want to find out about it there.” She shrugs.

“Was there a better place?”

“I mean, I would have preferred to have a little more privacy. Rhea was practically breathing down my neck.” Emma chuckles. 

“She was worried for you.” Timo assumes. Emma nods immediately.

“She was. Very much so after there were two lines on it too. She was right to make me do it there. If she didn’t. I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Nobody runs harder than you, Em.” He teases. Emma rolls her eyes, but smirks. He clocked her.

“I took the test and then waited. It was both the shortest and longest two minutes of my life. 

I probably sat there for over five minutes after I should have looked too.” Her face suddenly clouds over and she shifts. “This is where the non-judgement request came from.” She folds her bottom lip in as Timo squeezes her hand. “You called me during those few minutes of waiting.” Timo’s heart hammers at his chest wall.

Whoa.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t pick up. I couldn’t.” Tears begin to form in her eyes and she breaks eye contact. “I was really scared, T.” She whispers, voice breaking. “And ashamed because…” Her hands twirl around in a circle. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. You deserved better. The baby deserved better and I felt like the life ruiner in the middle of it all. Like…” Emma trails off, puffing her cheeks out as she tries not to cry harder. “You deserved, um, to have a baby with someone that you loved and I know you said you loved me in July, but I didn’t really… want to believe it. Or couldn’t.” 

Timo sits up and his hands wrap around Emma’s waist, pulling her into his lap. He leans back against the headboard with her in his arms. He pulls the blanket up over her shoulders so she is wrapped in warmth.

“Tell me you know that’s not true now.”

“Of course I do. It was just a low moment.” 

“I wish I had been there to hold you through that, Em. But I would never judge or be upset with you for not answering that call in that moment.”

He can remember exactly where he was making that phone call to her. They had been about to play in Columbus. After waking up from his pre-game nap, he took a shower then sat half dressed on his bed to call her. He tried her once and she didn’t answer. He called again without hesitating. She didn’t pick up that one either and then he was frustrated. He took a breath before the third call, telling himself this was his final one. He had to trust her. She said she wasn’t going to forget about that night in Jersey and she’s kept her word. She’s busy, he reminded himself. But that third sound of her voicemail had jabbed at him in a painful spot. Maybe she was back to ignoring him- how would he know for sure? 

The beep of her voicemail had shrilled and he said some jumbled, desperate words, raw and unfiltered. Then he hung up and tried to prepare himself for a game. The team had won but Timo struggled to contribute. It didn’t get better over the next stretch of days when Emma never called him back. The hindsight of why makes it a lot easier for him to understand now. Back then, he thought she was just ignored him and back on her usually shit. Knowing she was grappling with the idea of their baby alone gives him more empathy than before.

“But now? Looking back… you could have been a part of it. Maybe that was what was supposed to happen. I mean, of all the times you could have called.”

“I’m okay with how this played out, baby.” He assures her.

Emma strokes her fingernails over his left pec, watching herself draw patterns into his skin.

“I sat on the floor, trying to imagine all the different scenarios of telling you. Or not telling you…” She trails off, shaking her head. “But those were limited thoughts.” She says. Timo already knows that. “I think even then, scared and unsure, I knew we would do this together.” 

Timo’s heart glows in his chest at that. Hearing that she was in a deep moment of fear as she imagined the next steps of her life after that and he was still part of it. 

“I remember driving home that night, already imaging who the baby was going to be. I never envisioned a girl, which is so funny. But it was like hockey practice and cute baby shoes and…” Emma shakes her head. “And you.”

“Were you there too?” Timo jokes, pinching at her chin.

“Yeah. I was there.” 

“That’s my favorite part so far.” He leans down, kissing her lips. He savors the sweet, lingering remnants of her vanilla lip balm. “When was the doctor’s appointment?”

“It wasn’t until the next week, like right before I flew to New Jersey. I took a test every day.” She admits with a chuckle. “I kept expecting a different answer, but the tests kept becoming more definitive earlier and earlier. By the morning I went to the doctor, the result was instant. The control line popped up and then the results one came immediately after.” 

“That must have been comforting.”

“It was though!” Emma nods her head. “Like I already knew I was going to do this, so I had started to worry about him. Being afraid to lose him or going into the doctor’s appointment and them telling me something was wrong. It was a conflicting time.”

“When did you decide you wanted to do this?”

“Before I even left the bathroom floor of the event when I first took the test. Honestly. I remember standing up and clearly thinking, ‘I’m going to be a mom’ as I washed my hands at the sink.” 

“That simple.” He muses.

“Yeah. Lio is very persuasive.” 

“He gets that from you, baby.” Emma giggles, relaxing back as she continues to talk so she can see his face.

“The doctors visit was long and short. Long because I had to get all this testing- a pee test, a blood test, and then they wanted to do an ultrasound because of something they saw in the test that turned out to be a lab error, so then I had to get more blood drawn so they could recalibrate. But it was okay. I got to see him on the screen and they gave me pictures even though I didn’t ask for them. I went home in a daze. I told Rhea I was too sick to come into work and then I sat in my kitchen staring at the ultrasound pictures on the counter. For hours, I swear.” 

“Did you think about calling me?”

“Every other minute.” She nods. “To tell you that I was coming back to Jersey… to try to explain my absence but also not tell you over the phone…  or to just blurt it out then hang up and block your number…”

Timo laughs and Emma follows.

“I was very awful!” She exclaims, hiding her face. “Turns out I was afraid for nothing because you were so good at absorbing it when I told you.” 

“Ah you bought it huh?”

“What?”

“I was freaking out.” He corrects her. “I was most scared that it wasn’t mine and then I was gonna not care and raise someone else’s baby with you because there was no way you were leaving that apartment without me taking care of you.”

“You could see how scared I was?”

“Baby, it was all over your gorgeous face. Meanwhile, in my mind, I felt like all my dreams were about to come true with you. After that initial shock and questioning wore off, I was trying like hell to figure out how to get you to stay. I didn’t want you to go home and do this alone. I wanted us to do it together. I knew you could do it alone, but I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“What if I wanted to go home?”

Timo groans, dropping his forehand to hers. His blue eyes hide behind his eyelids, thick eyebrows scrunched together in agony. Then, he looks back at her, sincerely and asks:

“Have I ever told you no?”

Emma smiles.

“That’s exactly why I stayed.”

More Timo and Emma here.

[digo3d]

If Top Cat were to have a proper finale, how do you think it should end?

Hmmmmm good kestion

See my first thought was that Dibble dies which would certainly be *A* way to end the series but that's some shit I'd pull if I'm feeling evil, Hanna n Barbera would never do that.

See when approaching this question you gotta think; is it gunna be an angsty ending or a fluffy ending?

Likely fluff since again, HB.

I'd like to imagine the finale would be a two parter and involve something that really makes the gang's love for each other shine, rather than something like Top Cat's Biggest Scam Ever And Now They're Set For Life type thing. Frankly if the show ended with them leaving the alley some way I think that'd be very dissatisfying since the show's been very adamant about the fact that they're all very content with being alley cats.

I've thought of 3 possible episodes for a finale and will spit them out here:

Christmas episode: We finally get that fuckass Christmas episode that was basically teased in T.C. falls in love (y'know Fancy's line that goes 'And how he used to love Christmas. It was always, well, special with him.') T.C. n the gang have had a particularly hard year due to the weather and an increasingly cat-hating political climate and T.C. fears that the gang's starting to lose faith in him since it's been weeks since their last real meal. In fear of losing the gang and to cheer them up he decides he's gunna make sure they have the best Christmas ever. The first part of this Christmas finale special would show their struggles and how hostile everyone's suddenly become to cats, and then T.C. planning out their Best Christmas, with the first part ending with T.C. asking a favor from a crime boss who's daughter he had saved a while ago (a la Zootopia) and then the second part picks up with T.C. getting everything prepared on Christmas Eve with Dibble's help. The episode continues into Christmas Day where the gang wakes up to see the alley absolutely decked to the halls with a giant Christmas tree and a huge pile of presents underneath it with a freshly prepared breakfast for them. They enjoy some other Christmas festivities before it's finally time to start opening all the presents T.C. got for them. They start off with Brain, who asks T.C. how he managed to pull all of this while he tries to guess what present is in the box. T.C. explains that he just called out a small loan as a favor from aforementioned crime boss and then freezes as he remembers the one small detail that T.C. forgot about. He only had that loan for Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day, and was supposed to have all the money back by 12 PM on Christmas, not midnight like he thought. Some goons bust into the alley and start tearing down all the decorations and taking away all the festivities. One of them even rips Brain's present right out of his paws. T.C. begs and pleads the boss to extend the loan but everything is final. The goons leave the alley with nothing festive remaining. Everyone's quiet as they hear the extremely rare sound of T.C. sniffling at the end of the alley. This would be the first time any of them had really seen him cry like this. He notices that they noticed, and he pretends to act as cool as he always does, but eventually scuttles away. The gang finds him later hiding in a corner trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. Benny taps his shoulder, and T.C. sees him holding one shoddily-wrapped present. He explains that the gang only managed to scrape together enough money to buy one present, and figured that T.C. should get to have it. Although slightly surprised, T.C. takes the present and opens it. He pulls out a luxurious, fluffy blanket. 'Y'know cuz like, uh, yours don't keep you warm anymore.' Spook explains. T.C. smiles and purrs quietly as he rubs his face on the soft blanket. He opens his mouth to explain his grievances. 'I just... I just wanted to-' 'We know, T.C. Don't worry about it.' Chooch says. 'I... Heh. It's a silly thought but I was scared that you lot were givin' up on me.' T.C. admits. 'Duhhhh, we'd never give up on you, T.C.! You're, uhh, you're our Top Cat!' 'And like, uh, we don't need none of those, like, sellout decorations or, uh, wild presents, dad.' 'Yeah, Christmas is special because of you, not some high-end way of living.' Fancy purrs. T.C., with a quivering smile, wipes away some tears. 'You idiots, you're all gunna make me cry.' The episode (and series) ends with them heading back to the alley and huddling all together underneath T.C.'s new blanket. Dibble leaves a big Christmas ham for them as they sleep on his way home.

T.C. gets kidnapped because he tried to scam the wrong person and the gang + Dibble has to save him without his leadership guiding them. I don't have nearly as many specifics for this one as I did the Christmas one but this could be neat. This could also work with a plot similar to The Movie where T.C. gets arrested for a crime he never committed and the gang has to prove his innocence.

Dibble's thinking of retiring and the gang, while initially ecstatic, remembers all the other times some other cop was pounding his beat and desperately try to convince him not to

TL:DR based on how much I've written for each of these, probably the Christmas episode I proposed.

[freedelusionshere]

It’s kind of funny how in Violet Shapiro “bumps into” Syd on her daily route in S3 the same way Claire “bumps into” Carmy in S2? Clearly not an accident? A lot of what Shapiro says to her in this “accidental” conversation seems very rehearsed and teeing up the quickly approaching poach. And she corrects him when he tries to flatter her because Carmy changed all their dishes. Shapiro also invites her to Ever (foreshadowing).

I know someone has said this before (apologies, I don’t remember who), that Shapiro may get info from someone on the inside at The Bear, because he knows exactly what to say to Syd to push her buttons (this mirrors Claire telling Carmy she knows the name of his restaurant). Maybe he just heard the yelling of the kitchen when he visited The Bear, but I don’t actually believe he went there, he would’ve been recognized by Richie.

The show goes out of the way to make it clear Richie rarely misses anything that happens in the FOH. The fork he sees on the floor can be interpreted as a tip off about a reviewer (The Tribune), but it appears Richie says nothing. Richie also has done saboteur stuff in S1, and Richie is pissed at Carmy in S3, but that would be extremely obvious.

It makes me wonder if the “sleight of hand” is that it’s one of the Faks, who play the fools but they’re both manipulative and have agendas. Ted gets directly called out by Richie in Children that his motives are centered around getting laid, and we know Claire has been setting him up with her friends. Neil has stated previously he wants to work in the kitchen, and was shot down by Richie (Richie often blocks the Faks), but ends up being promoted to FOH where he sabotaged the mirepoix presentation.

Neil does this exact kind of manipulation to Carmy with Claire in S2 and in S3 he outright lies and misrepresents to Claire about how Carmy feels about her. The Faks also hold grudges for years as a family and it gets brought up with the whole haunting BS.

Prior to Syd meeting Shapiro for the first time, the Faks are shown lining up all the pictures of the critics with Neil bragging about how he’s pre-memorized all their faces and Ted saying he has a great memory (which is a great attribute for someone trading info). Neil also sucks up to Nat, Claire, and Donna. Later, we find out that The Bear is getting reviewed by The Tribune which causes Syd and Carmy anxiety, and also feels somewhat premature and designed to get them a chaotic review.

And similar to the way Claire is the opposite in personal character of Syd, Shapiro is this for Carmy. Shapiro pressures Syd constantly once he tells her about the job offer, he doesn’t take responsibility for his mistakes (the smudging), he is envious (we see him frustrated Carmy is faster than him in flashback), it’s set up that he’s saying he’s offering Syd everything she wants but ultimately, his goal would get Syd to leave The Bear. It would separate Syd and Carmy just as Claire is a wedge for their relationship.

Neil is always around in the background at the restaurant but he and Ted get way too much facetime in the narrative in S3 for it to not be about something. Sammy showing up in Children is a big sleight of hand distraction to the fact the Faks are basically sabotaging the photoshoot the entire time. Sammy is invited there by his brothers. Whether it’s intentional or not, that is the result, with Richie finally telling Neil to get out of the picture.

This is also fucking with Richie who controls the FOH. Neil doesn’t use the right tank size, Ted drills the photographer with questions, the smoking in the FOH, Sammy threatens the photographer.

I’m guessing it’s Neil, although Ted gets the benefit of access to Claire’s friends (gross). In Fishes we see them trying to run low-level money schemes. They’re basically trying to scam people they know, and it’s so stupid that people give them money but it never catches up with them, either.

Neil is trying to ingratiate himself to Carmy so he can work in the kitchen, and to do that he wants to get Syd out of the picture, because the kitchen is hers. Also his comment to Claire at the hospital casting her in the traditional role…not what Syd’s about at The Bear, is it?

Neil also offers to show the electrician in S2 a magic trick.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Please excuse this long, rambling post. I guess typing stream of consciousness style is as close to thinking as I can get right now…

I need to be able to think! There is so much I need to figure out and plan. Critical things. And yet my brain is too slippery.

I mean, I have never been good at planning. I’m more “Hulk smash” than ten step ahead chess master. There are always too many factors, too many possibilities, too many ways things to go wrong, and…well, WAY too much disappointment and disillusionment. Plans never, ever work out. To plan is to hope and desire, and those only ever give pain.

Maybe it’s the shadow of “the boat”.

As I have written about, back in the 1960s my parents and grandfather built our big boat. (There are photos on my blog if you hunt around). It was the kind of grand scale fiberglassing project for just three people that makes news national news stories on slow news days. They had plans to travel the world in that boat and laid out how they would raise young children on board, make a living, etc.

And then the propeller got damaged.

Long story short, it took them a decade to build the dry dock to lift out the boat to repair it and by then life had changed dramatically. Grandparents died, responsibilities had pilled up in a sudden avalanche, and the boat would need a ton of updated equipment that would cost a lot all at once.

The boat was repaired, but never moved again. I never got to ride in it once. I was born too late. But I was born when there was still hope. The dry dock was being built and one day….

One day….

One day….

The dream was still there. There was still hope.

Maybe that’s why I believed in it so long. My earliest memories were before my family accepted it wouldn’t happen. I knew they wanted to take that boat to sea. I knew they planned. I absorbed the belief they still held onto.

My brother never believed, and was bitter and angry about it all. Maybe just a few years made the difference, forming first memories on the wrong side of the dry dock you could say. He always has been angry over it, belittling our father for failing to live up to the dream. He acted as if the hope was a lie meant to trick him.

I guess you can sum up the difference this way. For me the slow fading away of the boat plans made sad, sad for the life I once expected but even more for my parents who had wanted, and worked for it, long before I was even born. For my brother it was anger, as if it were all a scam my father had pulled on all of us.

You know, in one of those dark jokes of the universe my brother’s the one that inherited the boat. That was practicality really. He has some money and children, while I neither can afford the taxes nor have anyone to inherit. But I worry. Worry he will sell it for scrap or destroy it, like how he wants to log the woods or sell off Mom’s non-existent valuable jewelry.

Money. If only I had devoted my life to profit. I wouldn’t have had to be mega wealthy, just well off enough I could protect the things dearest to me, maybe buy out his share of things instead of having no choice but to sell out my share in order to survive. But as my brother said about my parents the day after Mom died “Pity their kids are such failures”.

Poor Mom and Pop. That boat was the most tangible achievement of their lives really. Pop with all his projects and plans he never had the time or money to finish. Mom with all her dreams and goals sacrificed to the practicalities of life. I learned from them that all the effort, intentions, and hope in the world won’t amount to anything in the end.

Now maybe they could have gotten more of what they wanted done if only they hadn’t cared. They cared about people, places, the environment, hell, everything really. They didn’t know how not to help. The volunteered, joined things, organized, attended so many meetings and conferences I couldn’t keep track of it all, and even became the most reluctant politicians you could ever meet.

No really. When they ran for office you’d think they were Frodo offering to carry the ring. It was a job that needed doing, but damn it why did it have to be them. Heck, Pop even got elected mayor once without running or wanting anyone to write him in….and folks that voted for him said they were “getting two for the price of one”.

Now sure, Pop who grew up an outcast could feel flattered anyone wanted him to hold an office, and with Mom maybe it was twinges it was a lifetime need to prove her worth. The cost was much, much higher. It wore at them. Drained them. Broke them down.

You would think I would be resentful of my parents spending so much time on the greater world, but I didn’t. Okay, mostly. I was rather disappointed that after giving my speech as valedictorian at my high school graduation that, instead of the celebratory parties and dinners like my classmates, my family piled into a car to get to a meeting. But most the time I was fine with it.

More than fine actually. Proud. I think I had bought in hook, line, and sinker into concepts of heroism, sacrifice, and the greater good. Doing the right thing, no matter the personal price you paid, wasn’t just my instinctive nature or a beautiful romantic notion but the example set for me. Since my family expected me to be their sidekick, I was included in whatever they were doing. Some families go on cookouts or to sporting events, mine went to meetings or manned booths at events.

This does lead to a serious regret. When Pop was chairman of the school board the stress on him was intense. He cared so deeply, and was in conflict with so many because of it, that his body began to eat away at itself. His health was being dramatically effected and be considered quitting. And what did I do? I gave him a pep talk to convince him not to. I pointed out he wasn’t helping hypothetical kids, but real people he had helped, individuals for which he had been their champion. And every kid he helped might have been a life changed for the better in ways that would have ripple effects right though the whole community. They he was NEEDED.

I was young and full of passion. It was true what I was saying, but it was also true I had no right to say it. Self sacrifice is often admirable, but I was talking him into sacrificing himself. No one has a right to that. And the fact I loved him so much and that he would listen to me only makes it more terrible. He did do good by staying, but the cost was so high. The fact I was only saying things at the core of my family’s soul doesn’t mean I should have said it. If anything I should have been talking him into quitting. He didn’t need urging on but permission to save himself, and for all my love I didn’t get that.

I get that now. I watched what all that helping did to my parents, the high price of caring, and the true sacrifice of it all. And it’s endless, frequently heartbreakingly futile, like trying to break down a door with your head. It makes you tired and sick.

It also isolates. Some folks are going to see you as the enemy. Many you help will take you for granted. People on your “side” will ask for more and more. It will never be enough for anyone. Even though you aren’t doing it for gratitude, there will be moments when you realize a thank you might be nice. For all you have done, when you die your family will be left to mourn alone…

So am not like my parents at all, with all their plans and hopes. My heart sees it all as so futile. They were on a quest, and I’m just a lost wanderer.

In a sympathy card over Mom’s death a couple wrote “Your mama was the kind of woman that made us think about how we too could make the world a better place. She caused us to rethink our values and what life should look like.” And after so grateful to see Mom WAS appreciated, I realized something else. People could be so inspired by her and yet her own daughter is the one that fails to follow her example.

Forgive me for all this. I’m writing without thinking. Words. So many words saying so little. If only this would jumpstart my brain. Instead it’s just another case of slithering out of all the serious thinking I need to do. A distraction. My future looks pretty damn bleak if I don’t get figuring things out.

Come on brain! Wake up already!

[crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer]

WIP Word Game

Rules: you will be given a word. then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

Tagged by: @auniverseforgotten

My word: friendship

Cure, heart, friendship... we're very on brand here. See if you can guess the word that comes next before reading to the end~ uwu <3

I was going to jump between WIPs again just like last time, but I've come to terms with the fact that my Prodigy fic, Strategy and A Sword, is the only one my brain has been actively working on in spite of my best efforts.

F

For a while, she had let herself believe that it was her fault for taking breaks between floors. If she had just pushed through instead of stopping halfway… If she had rescued Florian…

R

“Rewards?” Gale suddenly seemed overcome with concern. “Is something wrong?” Most of it was junk trinkets or the same currency she got everywhere else on the island.

I

It wasn’t like her pets never told her when they were ready to evolve, but a mandatory transaction like this? Did they think Magicoin grew on Lumin Trees? What was a magical creature going to do with that?! She didn’t even know they understood what an economy was!

E

Even more confusing was that letter Gale had sent inviting her back to the Academy through a portal that Pippet mysteriously knew how to open. Noot had checked the portal first to make sure it was safe, but Gale never even acknowledged Pippet coming through just before they got there. And his apologies – insisting that everything was his fault – they had always seemed out of place to her like he wanted to confess to something he couldn’t talk about.

N

Noot was already charging head first into another battle, so he clearly had no interest in considering what changing pet behaviors might mean for the state of the island’s ecosystems. Ironic, given some of their math drills where he had her analyzing elephant populations.

D

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Gale,” Noot reassured him softly. “One day we’ll finally defeat the Puppet Master and everything can go back to normal again!”

S

Sometimes it felt like she and her peers were living in completely different timelines. Too many details weren’t adding up and no one else seemed to be asking the right questions, so finally she retreated here to the seemingly endless maze of the Archives to sift through partially completed history books and math lessons.

H

“Hey, what is all this?!” Luna asked loudly, emerging from the Archives with yet another stack of books for her room. Whoever rigged that roulette wheel was determined to make her eat her words.

I

“I’m counting on you,” Gale said in his usual awkwardly drawn out cadence, like every word was a battle against some unseen anxiety. When he smiled, something remained trapped behind his eyes screaming to be let out. “I know, Gale.”

P

Puppet Master and Pippet were running this scam all over the island, convincing every wizard in town that they were the one true prodigy of the Academy because their quest for knowledge was so much more noble than anyone else’s. Well, the Puppet Master had been right about one thing: a thirst for knowledge and a healthy skepticism of popular rhetoric really were the best method to avoid falling for an illusion.

Your word: magic

Tagging: @auniverseforgotten , @darth-salem-emperor-of-earth

As always, there’s no pressure to share and if I missed someone who wants to be included feel free to consider yourself also tagged~ <3

[mosneakers]

Erwin: Robin... no. We're going to have to call this mission off. I've been doing conspiracy work for a long time, and there's a delicate process to it. There's protocol... safety measures! Tonight, you didn't follow any of them and you ended up in jail. Robin: Well I'm out, aren't I? Erwin: Yes, because your parents are loaded. None of us are that fortunate. I wouldn't be that lucky. Plus... it could've been worse. You put yourself in serious danger to participate in the kinds of things I do. If something happened to you... [Grimaces] Well, I don't know what I would do. Robin: Nothing would happen to me, Erwin. Worst case scenario, I can be resurrected. I have nothing to be afraid of! [Smiles proudly]

Erwin's expression glosses over as his stare fixates on the linoleum in front of him. Erwin: Of course you can. Robin: I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this, Erwin. I thought you'd be happy to have someone so much like you.

Erwin: I am, Robs. I am.

Robin: Then why does it sound like...

Erwin: I... I'm so sorry, Robs. This whole conspiracy stuff... my life... it's not good for you. It'd just suck you right in.

Robin closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

Robin: So... you're breaking up with me? Erwin: I guess? I've never done this before. It seems crazy, since I was so lucky to find you in the first place. But I think it's for the best.

Robin drops her head into her hands and begins to sob. She cries so hard that her little bucket hat falls right off her head. Erwin feels his heart drop. He tries to console her, but she pushes him away.

Erwin: Hey, Robin... I'll always love you though, okay? Robin: I'm going to go. [Rubs tears from eyes.] I'll call you. Good luck with everything Erwin. Erwin: [Whispers, hoping he didn't make a huge mistake] Okay. Thank you.

Later that night, Erwin doesn't feel like doing much of anything, but taking Astro for a walk is an obligation he must always fulfill. He decides, since it's in the neighborhood anyway... he might as well swing by the dresser and take a look. Robin did pay quite a lot for that flash drive, after all.

He not only searches the top drawer, but the rest of them too. And all of the surrounding area. Still, the flash drive is nowhere to be found.

Erwin: That piece of shit scammed her, boy. [Angrily kicks dumpster] That's what happens when you don't know how to investigate conspiracies properly!! Come on Astro, let's get home quick, maybe we can avoid seeing Tycho ogling Coraleye for once.