#channel 5 action news

[imfamou69]

this shitty little mobile game that i hardly even played set something off in me and i will never be the same

[kply-industries]

The action chopper 5, with the least smooth ride in all of reporting!

[tricia-takanawa]

Some of the Highlights of my Career. I've met so many Interesting people through my Reporting.

[kleopatra45]

Degrees of Mars in the Natal Chart

Mars in Aries Degrees (1°, 13°, 25°):

These degrees suggest a highly passionate and driven approach to action and assertiveness. Individuals with Mars at these degrees may be impulsive, courageous, and quick to initiate new endeavors. They have a strong desire to lead and can be competitive, enthusiastic, and proactive in pursuing their goals.

Mars in Taurus Degrees (2°, 14°, 26°):

Degrees in Taurus imply a determined and persistent approach to action and physical energy. Those with Mars at these degrees may exhibit patience, endurance, and a methodical pace in pursuing their ambitions. They are grounded, practical, and focused on achieving tangible results, particularly in areas related to stability and material security.

Mars in Gemini Degrees (3°, 15°, 27°):

These degrees suggest a versatile and mentally agile approach to action and assertiveness. Individuals with Mars at these degrees may excel in communication, networking, and multitasking. They are curious, adaptable, and energized by intellectual challenges, often seeking variety and stimulation in their pursuits.

Mars in Cancer Degrees (4°, 16°, 28°):

Degrees in Cancer imply a protective and emotionally driven approach to action and assertiveness. Those with Mars at these degrees may channel their energy into nurturing and defending loved ones, home, and security. They are sensitive to emotional cues and may act from a place of instinctual protectiveness.

Mars in Leo Degrees (5°, 17°, 29°):

These degrees suggest a bold, expressive, and sometimes dramatic approach to action and assertiveness. Individuals with Mars at these degrees are confident, charismatic, and motivated by creative self-expression and recognition. They thrive in leadership roles and may exhibit a flair for theatrics in their endeavors.

Mars in Virgo Degrees (6°, 18°):

These degrees imply a meticulous, detail-oriented approach to action and physical energy. Those with Mars at these degrees may excel in tasks requiring precision, organization, and problem-solving. They are diligent, analytical, and motivated by a desire for efficiency and improvement.

Mars in Libra Degrees (7°, 19°):

Degrees in Libra suggest a cooperative and diplomatic approach to action and assertiveness. Individuals with Mars at these degrees may seek harmony, fairness, and balanced outcomes in their pursuits. They are skilled negotiators, value teamwork, and may act with consideration for others' perspectives.

Mars in Scorpio Degrees (8°, 20°):

These degrees suggest an intense, passionate, and sometimes secretive approach to action and assertiveness. Those with Scorpio at these degrees are driven by deep emotional intensity, determination, and a desire for transformation. They are resourceful, strategic, and may pursue their goals with unwavering focus.

Mars in Sagittarius Degrees (9°, 21°):

Degrees in Sagittarius imply an adventurous, optimistic, and expansive approach to action and physical energy. Individuals with Mars at these degrees are motivated by exploration, freedom, and the pursuit of knowledge. They thrive on challenges, seek new experiences, and may act impulsively in pursuit of their ideals.

Mars in Capricorn Degrees (10°, 22°):

These degrees suggest a disciplined, ambitious, and goal-oriented approach to action and assertiveness. Those with Mars at these degrees are driven by a strong sense of responsibility, determination, and a desire for long-term success. They are willing to work hard, endure challenges, and strategically advance towards their ambitions.

Mars in Aquarius Degrees (11°, 23°):

These degrees imply an innovative, unconventional, and sometimes rebellious approach to action and assertiveness. Individuals with Mars at these degrees are motivated by humanitarian ideals, social causes, and a desire for personal freedom. They are independent thinkers, catalysts for change, and may challenge traditional norms in their pursuits.

Mars in Pisces Degrees (12°, 24°):

Degrees in Pisces suggest a compassionate, imaginative, and intuitive approach to action and assertiveness. Those with Mars at these degrees may act from a place of empathy, creativity, and sensitivity to the needs of others. They are spiritually inclined, adaptable, and may find motivation through artistic or altruistic pursuits.

©️kleopatra45

[lc-holy]

Thomas Astruc and Sébastien Thibaudeau were interviewed on Catboat's Twitch channel. A 5-hour interview in which they talk about their careers, the 5 seasons of miraculous and a little about the seasons to come. (There are no spoilers about season 6, only a few teasers).

The interview will probably be available with English subtitles.

In the meantime, here's a summary of what was said in the interview about season 6 and other Miraculous projects.

Thomas has always loved SAMG's work, and it was he who strongly suggested working with them on the series. But unfortunately, they will no longer be able to work with SAMG for future seasons of Miraculous. Episode production has changed and is no longer compatible with SAMG. However, he remains open to working with them on other projects.

Miraculous will be produced entirely in France from season 6 onwards.

The interviewer asked Thomas if an OVA project with Toei was still planned. But Thomas didn't want to answer the question.

Sébastien explains that they always plan the scenarios well in advance. For example, what happens in season 6 was already planned when season 3 was written. They've already written two pages of ideas for the Season 7 finale.

Thomas says they have ideas to go to a season 12 but it will all depend on the success of the series.

It's impossible for them to have one season too many, because their work is very emotionally demanding, and if they feel that what they're doing is no longer interesting, they stop.

Sébastien hopes that Season 6 will appeal to new viewers as well as those who have been following the series since the beginning.

Miraculous will never evolve into an adult series, it will remain a children's series. But they will always try to satisfy the fans who have been following the series for years.

They also wrote the series to appeal to parents who watch Miraculous with their children.

Sebastien teased us that there will be a song in season 6.

Thomas sincerely believes that season 6 is better than season 5, which was off to a bad start because he wondered how they were going to do better than season 5.

They had a lot of fun writing this new season, and the new writers who joined the series brought a lot of good ideas.

As season 6 begins a new arc, they consider it a season 1.

And with the new animation style, season 6 will bring a lot of new storytelling. It will be different. The stories won't be like the other seasons.

Some people will probably complain that it's different, that it's not like before. It's a question of adaptation.

Sebastien says we'll appreciate season 6 even more when season 7 comes out.

They don't know yet whether the theme song will change. Thomas would like to change, but he knows the fans love the theme song so they don't know yet.

Thomas hints that he didn't write the Shadybug and Claw noir universe to exploit it in a single special. But he remains very vague.

Thomas explains that there are many details in previous seasons that fans didn't understand, but which will make sense in later seasons.

There's a reason why Lila is a mythomaniac, and they'll tell it one day in the series. Thomas even says they've already told it in the series, but we haven't figured it out yet.

Thomas says that Chloe will remain an important character in the coming seasons, as she has always been in the series.

They have clarified that the new animation for the new seasons will have nothing in common with that of the Miraculous movie. Because the movie and the series are not linked.

They will soon be meeting to decide whether Miraculous will be made into a live-action series or not. It will be different from the series. Thomas mentions kwamis in particular, which are complicated to integrate into live action. Thomas has already written the concept. For the series to see the light of day, it will mainly be a question of budget.

[pbnbucks]

Reader and Paige are both really fucking good players and apparently they hate each other on the court and the public think they just can’t stand each other but they’re actually secret girlfriends pleaseeee

word count : 461

warnings : you and paige are atleast 3 years into your wnba career

summary : you and paige spend time together after your guys game resting.

your laying in your hotel room watching a movie while trying to multitask zoning out the sound of paiges aggressive snores that now become unbearable “get up, you're snoring and i can't hear the movie.”

“then turn it up...” she says groaning as you disturbed her favorable amount of sleep she was getting as she peaked at the alarm clock on your side table already knowing the drill.

her after game naps where a ritual, unfortunately for her she had just lost to you and your team, The New York Liberty. many fouls where called tonight adding the fuel to the media’s perspective on your ‘rivalry’.

“so you can yell at me for waking you up? no!” getting annoyed with her unthoughtful self continuing her loud actions except now she through herself on top of you using you as her “pillow” that she refers to.

“you woke me up anyway!” her tone more awake then ever now somewhat sitting up on the bed rubbing her veiny hands over her eyes that where sheepishly blue.

“what ever its time to get up” paige groans moving her head to face the other direction giving you a playful amount of attitude and distress.

“come on seriously” you say pushing her shoulder before propping yourself up grabbing her shirt pulling her up and throwing a pair of pants and a t shirt at her.

“im getting up calm down” she says holding her hands up in a playful manner before pressing a kiss on your Rosie cheeks making you get flustered at her easy way of getting on your good side.

“yea okay bueckers” teasing her as it was now 3 pm and your dinner reservations were at 5:30 pm at the sugar factory per paige’s request.

“and also no more reading before bed. you keep waking me up with your dramatic gasps every time you turn the page.” she says almost unable to understand as her mouth was filled with toothpaste popping her head out of the bathroom.

“well, i'm sorry that i engage and connect deeply with literature!” you say before she mimics you making you cross your arms in disbelief as her laughs echo across your penthouse.

later that night you found yourself on tiktok live letting fans join and entering request on what they want from your youtube channel and connecting with as many fans you could.

one comment stepped out in particular mentioning your girlfriends name as your guess was they where trying to be funny and talk about your guys ‘rivalry’.

“my opinion on paige bueckers? hmm…. no comment.” you say laying down after finishing that sentence. you and paige had fun messing with the media until 2 weeks later she got caught in the background of your live.

[cazshmere]

Destiny Matrix: The Energy You Must Embody for Genuine Happiness

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🦂

The center number in the Destiny Matrix chart represents our core energy—the Major Arcana card that has the most profound influence on your life. This number reflects the key lessons and dominant themes we must embrace to feel aligned with your destiny. It acts as our guiding force, shaping our experiences and guiding us toward fulfillment and balance

link to calculate your chart : click here

1 – The Magician 🪄

Key Themes: Manifestation, creativity, willpower

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Start a vision board to focus on your goals.

Practice daily affirmations to boost self-belief.

Learn a new skill or hobby to channel creativity.

Set small, actionable goals and track progress.

Use mindfulness to align actions with intentions.

2 – The High Priestess 🧚‍♀️

Key Themes: Intuition, inner wisdom, mystery

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Meditate daily to develop inner awareness.

Keep a dream journal to reflect on subconscious messages.

Trust your gut feelings, especially in decision-making.

Reduce distractions and spend time in quiet reflection.

Engage in mystical practices (tarot, astrology) to deepen insight.

3 – The Empress 👸🏽

Key Themes: Nurturing, creativity, abundance

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Create a peaceful, beautiful space at home.

Spend time in nature to feel grounded.

Cook or garden to nurture creativity and growth.

Support loved ones emotionally and offer care.

Indulge in self-care rituals to cultivate self-love.

4 – The Emperor 🤴🏽

Key Themes: Authority, structure, stability

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Set a clear routine or daily structure.

Take on leadership roles, even in small situations.

Establish long-term goals for your personal and professional life.

Lead with confidence but remain fair and balanced.

Be disciplined in areas like finances or personal development.

5 – The Hierophant 🪽

Key Themes: Tradition, spiritual guidance, teaching

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Explore cultural or spiritual traditions and integrate them into your life.

Mentor others and share knowledge where you're experienced.

Reflect on core values and how they guide your decisions.

Study spiritual texts or philosophies to deepen understanding.

Join a spiritual or community group to foster connection.

6 – The Lovers 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻

Key Themes: Connection, choice, harmony

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Strengthen communication in your relationships.

Make decisions that reflect your values and desires.

Foster deeper emotional and spiritual connections with loved ones.

Practice compromise and understanding in conflicts.

Focus on self-love as the foundation for harmonious relationships.

7 – The Chariot 🚀

Key Themes: Determination, control, success

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Set clear goals and take steady steps to achieve them.

Stay focused on your objectives despite distractions.

Practice emotional self-regulation in stressful situations.

Celebrate victories, no matter how small.

Take charge of your life path with confidence and direction.

8 – Strength 💪🏽

Key Themes: Inner strength, compassion, patience

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Practice self-compassion and be gentle with yourself in difficult times.

Engage in physical or emotional activities that build resilience, like exercise or meditation.

Offer kindness and understanding to others, even when it's challenging.

Be patient with long-term goals or emotional healing.

Cultivate a quiet inner strength by facing fears calmly.

9 - The Hermit 🐚

Key Themes: Solitude, inner reflection, wisdom

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Take time away from social media and external influences to reflect.

Spend time alone in nature or a quiet space to recharge.

Journal regularly to explore your inner world.

Read books or engage in study to deepen self-awareness.

Offer wisdom to others from a place of experience.

10 – The Wheel of Fortune 🍀

Key Themes: Change, destiny, cycles

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Be flexible and open to unexpected changes in life.

Reflect on the cycles of your past to understand patterns.

Trust in the flow of life, knowing that ups and downs are part of growth.

Release the need for control and go with the flow.

Embrace new opportunities, even if they come unexpectedly.

11 – Justice ⚖️

Key Themes: Fairness, truth, balance

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Be mindful of making fair and just decisions.

Take responsibility for your actions and decisions.

Seek balance in all areas of life—work, relationships, health.

Practice fairness in your interactions with others.

Be truthful with yourself and others in difficult situations.

12 – The Hanged Man 🙃

Key Themes: Surrender, new perspective, patience

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Let go of control and allow things to unfold in their own time.

Reflect on challenging situations from a new perspective.

Embrace stillness and patience during times of uncertainty.

Be open to changing your approach if things aren't working.

Trust that waiting or setbacks often lead to growth.

13 – Death 🦋

Key Themes: Transformation, endings, renewal

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Let go of old habits, relationships, or situations that no longer serve you.

View endings as opportunities for new beginnings.

Embrace change and transformation, even if it feels uncomfortable.

Focus on personal growth during times of transition.

Practice gratitude for past experiences, even as you move forward.

14 – Temperance 🕊️

Key Themes: Balance, harmony, moderation

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Practice moderation in areas of excess, such as work or indulgence.

Focus on finding balance between different areas of your life.

Meditate or engage in mindfulness practices to foster inner harmony.

Be patient with yourself and others, especially during conflicts.

Seek holistic well-being by integrating mind, body, and spirit.

15 – The Devil 👺

Key Themes: Desire, limitation, mastery

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Acknowledge your desires and examine whether they serve your higher self.

Confront limiting beliefs or unhealthy habits that hold you back.

Practice discipline in areas where you feel tempted or out of control.

Seek balance between enjoying life’s pleasures and maintaining healthy boundaries.

Embrace your shadow side without judgment, using it for personal growth.

16 – The Tower 🗼⚡️

Key Themes: Sudden change, upheaval, revelation

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Accept that sudden changes may be necessary for personal growth.

Let go of outdated beliefs or structures that no longer serve you.

Use challenging situations as opportunities for deep transformation.

Rebuild stronger foundations after a period of upheaval.

Trust that chaos often clears the way for new opportunities.

17 – The Star ⭐️

Key Themes: Hope, inspiration, healing

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Focus on healing emotional wounds and nurturing your inner light.

Cultivate hope and positivity in difficult times.

Align with your higher purpose and trust the universe’s guidance.

Inspire others by staying true to your authentic self.

Practice self-care and healing routines that nourish your body and soul.

18 – The Moon 🌙

Key Themes: Intuition, illusion, subconscious

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Explore your subconscious through dreams, journaling, or meditation.

Be mindful of illusions or false perceptions in your life.

Trust your intuition, especially when clarity is lacking.

Embrace uncertainty and mystery without fear.

Seek emotional clarity through inner reflection.

19 – The Sun ☀️

Key Themes: Joy, vitality, positivity

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Celebrate your successes and share your joy with others.

Embrace childlike wonder and enthusiasm in your daily life.

Focus on positive thinking, even in difficult times.

Connect with nature or physical activities to boost your vitality.

Shine your light on others, offering support and positivity.

20 – Judgement 📜

Key Themes: Rebirth, accountability, higher calling

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Reflect on your past actions and learn from them.

Take responsibility for your choices and their consequences.

Seek out your higher calling and align your life with it.

Focus on personal and spiritual rebirth through self-awareness.

Make amends or seek closure where necessary to move forward.

21 – The World 🌍

Key Themes: Completion, wholeness, fulfilment

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Celebrate the completion of major life milestones.

Recognize your personal growth and sense of wholeness.

Integrate lessons from all areas of life into your being.

Embrace your interconnectedness with the world around you.

Seek new opportunities for growth and expansion, even after reaching your goals.

22 – The Fool 🤪

Key Themes: New beginnings, trust, adventure

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Take risks and embrace new opportunities with optimism.

Trust the universe to guide you, even when the path is unclear.

Live in the present moment and enjoy life’s adventures.

Be open to unexpected experiences and possibilities.

Follow your instincts, even if it means stepping into the unknown.

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[bad268]

Burn

Aftermath Affair Pt. 4

(Oscar Pisatri X Reader + Ex! Lando Norris X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope, happy 5 years!

Warnings: Airing dirty laundry lol, that's about it. Based on the song from Hamilton (not Lewis)

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1710

Chapter Summary: Y/n L/n posted a new video, and everyone's hearts stop.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<-Part 3

~~(^Both from Pinterest)

You moved in with Oscar that night. All you took were your clothes. Everything that Lando bought you now burned you, and you couldn’t give a fuck less about what he bought you. You wanted nothing to do with anything related to Lando. He reached out once, asking where you were. All you said was, “Ask Ava.” He understood then. At least, you assumed he did because you blocked his number and every social media account he had before he could respond. 

You heard from Oscar that Lando was a wreck. You laughed it off because he did this to himself.

Your subscribers noticed the change. Your personal channel content changed from video games to vlogs. You were going out and doing things, in London they learned, and they loved to see it. You still played games, but fewer racing games and more random games you always wanted to play. Your subscribers also noticed how happy you were. They were convinced you and Lando got engaged.

Little did they know, you were falling for a different man.

Your subscribers were thrown for a loop when your shared channel with Lando was deleted. You decided it was time to delete it. They bombarded your socials almost immediately, asking what’s going on. They tried to see if it was rebranded or saved anywhere, but it seemed like your entire relationship was ripped from the internet. Your Instagram was void of Lando, your channel no longer had videos with him, and you didn’t follow him anywhere anymore. They didn’t even notice until then.

~

Y/n L/n just posted!

“A Letter to Lando”

“By now, you will have all seen that the shared channel is gone,” You opened the video. You were sitting in your new recording room. It was more open than your last one, more bright. You had a large window that brought in a lot of natural light, and it was more your style. The last one was just Lando’s recording room that you borrowed, so you couldn’t change it. When you moved in, Oscar told you to make this space yours in any way you wanted. It took a while, but you felt at home for once. “I deleted our shared channel because I am erasing myself from this narrative.“

“I’ve filmed this video at least three times at this point,” You took a breath as you felt tears well up in your eyes again. It’s hard to talk about what happened. Not only the way in which you found out about the cheating but also how you reacted. It was one of the darkest times in your life, and it took a lot to come back from. “I’m sorry, but it’s been a struggle trying to find the words to share this. As many of you have seen on Lando’s Instagram, Lando and I are no longer together.”

Oscar still had to follow Lando on Instagram for team purposes, and that’s how you saw that he posted a hard launch with Ava. 

You still did not know how you wanted to tell everyone what happened. You looked off at the wall. Your viewers couldn’t see it, but there was a picture of you and Oscar from a few months ago. You went out to celebrate 1.5 million subscribers. Oscar insisted, saying it was a huge milestone, and you didn’t want to make it a big deal. He insisted and dragged you out of the apartment. The picture was taken right after you accidentally knocked ice cream onto his nose. Lando wouldn’t even celebrate 1 million with you. Remembering the happiness with Oscar made you smile.

“Clearly, we’re not together anymore,” You sighed as your smile faded. “I’m not going into details, but I hope they’re happy. My friends always said he would do what it took to survive, and they were right. I was blinded by his words and his actions. That’s on me.”

“You talked about how long you have been in love with her, and how you didn’t believe in true love until you met each other,” You let out a breath as you thought of your next words carefully. “You told the world how you brought this girl into our bed, and in explaining your love story, you have ruined our lives. Do you know what my friends said? They called you an Icarus! That’s how my friends reacted, so I’ve decided that I’ll let you wonder how I reacted when you broke my heart, when you tore us apart.”

“I kept every letter you ever wrote to me,” You chuckled lightly as you pulled out a few pieces of paper. “The letter you first asked me out with because you were too scared to ask me face to face, the letter you wrote when we hit each milestone, random letters where you just professed your love, and letters that I would have cherished forever. I also kept the letter I wrote to you when I found out. I thought about reading a few lines out,” You insinuated by opening one of the letters before pulling out a lighter. You had already opened the window and had a bucket of water by your feet, and Oscar was standing outside with a fire extinguisher just in case. You chuckled lightly as you skimmed the loving words that had now turned sour in your eyes. At that moment, you decided you wanted to watch it burn. “I’ll let you all wonder how I reacted when he broke my heart.”

Your soft smile as you read slowly turned to a scowl before you lit the corner of the paper and looked directly into the camera. “Lando, you don’t deserve to see how I reacted. You don’t deserve anything from me. The world has no place in our bed, and they don’t get to know what I said. I am burning the memories, the letters that might have redeemed you. Lando, you can sleep in your office with only the memories of when you were mine.”

You lit all of Lando’s letters one by one before dropping them in the bucket once they were destroyed. Then you grabbed your letter to Lando. You skimmed through the multiple pages of it, remembering the feelings before lighting the corner. “You didn’t give me the decency to tell me yourself. I had to learn of your affair from your friend, so you forfeit the rights to my heart. You forfeit the place in our bed. I hope you’re happy with yourself, Lando.”

You threw the last letter into the bucket and gazed at the camera. Finally, you felt at peace.

“One last note to Lando Norris,” You paused, allowing a small smile to envelop your features, “I hope you burn.”

~

The reactions were almost instant. You sat on the couch curled up against Oscar’s body, rewatching Sex Education. It was one of your favorite shows, but Lando hated it, so you never got to watch it. Oscar binged it once, so he was always down to rewatch it with you. You heard your phone going off, so you pulled it out of your pocket to check it. However, Oscar immediately took it out of your hand and powered it off. 

“Hey, what’s that for?” You chuckled as he moved your phone away from you. “I was gonna check that.”

“Shhh, the show is playing,” He whispered as he leaned toward your ear before turning his attention back to the show. 

“You’re insufferable,” You laughed as you turned your attention back to the screen. It didn’t hold your attention long as you looked back over to Oscar. You were leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around his waist, so you were looking up at him. He had an arm around your shoulder while the other rested against your thigh that was lying over his lap. You got lost in your thoughts.

Oscar was everything to you. You felt more free whenever you were with him. At first, he gave you the space to refind yourself. He even supported you throughout the journey. Any game you wanted, he bought. Any new hobby, he tried it with you, so you wouldn’t feel alone. He never pushed you to do anything, but he did support you in everything you wanted to try. 

You never felt this supported with Lando. Looking back, he was toxic. He only wanted to play racing games or stupid games. You wanted to try other things, and he would be condescending. He always pushed you to fit the cookie cutter mold that other racing drivers’ girlfriends fit, but that was never going to be you. Oscar encouraged the change because staying in the same thing for too long can burn you out. It was true.

At some point of your staring, Oscar looked down at you with a smile. It wasn’t until he left a kiss on your forehead that you noticed.

When you first moved in, Oscar was very respectful in giving you your space to heal. He made sure to give you multiple spaces where you could retreat to including your own room and recording room. As the time moved on, you slowly migrated into his room for movie nights and late-night binges, and it eventually became you two staying in the same bed all night. Oscar never pushed you away. He wanted you to know that he was there for you whenever you were ready, and he was willing to wait as long as he needed for you. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” He said with a quiet tone, not wanting to disturb the peace.

“I think I’m ready,” You replied in the same tone. You moved to sit up a little more before grabbing Oscar’s hand, “I’m ready to give us a chance.”

“Really?” Oscar asked as he started getting excited before calming back down, “Wait, I don’t want to rush you if you aren’t ready.”

“That’s exactly why I’m ready,” You laughed as you leaned back into him. “You gave me the space to become comfortable again. Oscar, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this comfortable and free with someone in my life! You have been everything but pushy, and I’m ready to try us.”

~~~ Part 5 ->

~

Tags- @barcelonaloverf1life

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[starryknight-tarot]

𝓨𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓸

pile 1 -- > pile 2 -- > pile 3 pile 4 -- > pile 5 -- > pile 6

my masterlist<3 . paid readings Hello my beautiful souls ✨ I am here with part two of my yes or no pacs! Remember to meditate, take a deep breath, and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Pile 1 Card: Two of Wands

Yes, although I would as that the Two of Wands is closer to a maybe. I would say that the result really depends on your actions right now and how you go about this situation. Stay strong and courageous.

Advice Cards:

Put your tasks and goals in order

Deep, deep down, something needs attention

It's time to try something new!

Channeled Song:

Pile 2 Card: The Chariot

Yes, you need to stay consistent and keep your head high in this situation. Be brave and bold!

Advice Cards:

Love is the answer to your current situation

Release unhelpful influences and fears

Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off

Channeled Song:

Pile 3 Card: King of Swords

Yes, but in this situation, you need to more logic and use problem solving skills to get what you want. Following your heart may not get you the results you want.

Advice Cards:

You are much stronger than you think

Use your creativity to accomplish

Your body needs your attention

Remove all resistances and move into a state of flow

Channeled Song:

Pile 4 Card: Three of Pentacles

Yes, you will achieve what you want when you are willing to work with others and trust the people around you.

Advice Card:

It's time to realize the blueprint of your soul

Yes, you can . . . Set it into motion!

Weigh your situation carefully

Channeled Song:

Pile 5 Card: The Wheel of Fortune

Yes, but remember just as the wheels can turn on your favour, they can move away from you just as quickly. Luck is on your side.

Advice Cards:

Awareness opens a field of possibility in your life

Release all attachments that do not serve you

Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspects of your life

Channeled Song:

Pile 6 Card: The Devil

No, your obsessions and addictions may get the better of you in this situation. Don't give in to simple temptations. Advice Cards:

In harmony with your inner self, you are free to do be whatever you choose

Spend some time in stillness to reflect

It's is time to unclutter your body, mind, and spirit

Channeled Song:

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[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 1 ~ THE SURVIVORS

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: i cannot holler enough about how excited i've been to post this

chapter warnings: mentions of suicide, somewhat vividly described sick people, one mildly creepy dude, not a very juicy chapter because ya girl has to set everything up

chapter word count: 4.2k

The day they came, the sky ran red.

Red like cherry candy. Red like blood.

There were no warnings to indicate the end of life as it was. The ceiling of your world - of everyone’s - was its same innocent blue until, irrevocably, it wasn’t. One by one, the things blipped into humanity’s airspace, swarming in like they owned it, and the blue was vanquished, taking the status quo with it.

You were watching through the window of the lab instead of monitoring the cells you’d been culturing. The sound of shattering glass as one of your colleagues dropped something informed you that you were not the only one who wasn’t paying attention to their work; you rushed into the common room, where another colleague was switching to the news channel.

The source of the feeling of impending doom that had clouded your thoughts since that morning was confirmed as your eyes fixed on the screen. Before, you’d chalked it down to procrastination and yearning for the weekend, but as you watched one of the objects in the sky whizz down and make a landing space for itself by demolishing a block of flats with nothing a blast of light and smoke, you realised just where it came from.

Your boss cursed next to you, colourful and far too crude for the workspace.

As you saw what she was seeing on the TV, you decided you’d forgive her.

A previously invisible ramp in the side of what must be a spaceship had opened, and down it came a horse, a white horse, shining and resplendent, and yet the rider was the opposite - sallow faced and gaunt, arms too long and spindly with too thin skin stretching over fragile ribs. Worse was the face: it was all wrong. The nose seemed too high up, the mouth grotesquely wide and smiling.

You wished you could tear your eyes away, but you were transfixed, with the same horrified fascination a child watches a snail wither and shrivel into itself upon encountering salt.

The rider reached back with finger bones like spider’s legs and retrieved an arrow from the quiver on its back. The camera jolted as the cameraman took a step back, and began to shake as its head snapped to the side, its gaze catching on the lens. You recoiled, unadulterated fear rearing in your head, slicing through your thoughts - those eyes, like black holes, like endless hunger, pinned on you as if they could devour you through the screen.

You knew it then. You knew it, as if the thought had been planted in your head, a seed of fear and wrongness. This is your end, you heard, in a voice as black and velvet as night, and with so much depth it was as if there were thousands speaking at once. It cleaved through your head: The first horseman has come.

In a move too powerful and smooth for arms that spindly, the rider shot its arrow, and you saw it fly, so close to the camera you could almost taste the reek of illness as it tore by, burrowing itself into the cameraman's shoulder. The view pitched and fell, lurching towards the red sky before a new angle took its place.

You’d wished it hadn’t. From the new camera, you could see the cameraman who was hit retching and coughing, clutching the arrow buried in his shoulder. It thrummed from the impact, grotesquely sticking out like an extra limb, strange and stiff and now part of him. His torso undulated, convulsing, and he vomited up something big and bloody enough to be an organ onto the road. Behind him, the crowd was backing away, but you already saw the signs of infection - a woman covering her hand with her mouth as a cough wracked her body, a man pressing a palm to his side as his stomach cramped.

The first horseman had come.

Pestilence.

Soon after that, your colleagues began to rush home with wild, frantic eyes. You sat there, frozen, staring at the TV screen that had long since gone blank. Your parents called, their tinny voices breaking up every few seconds - no doubt millions of people were calling their own families all across the world - and told you to stay where you were to avoid infection until the authorities got everything under control.

They were sure it would all turn out alright. You weren’t - you made sure you told them you loved them before hanging up.

Next your sister called, coughing. She’d been working her shift at the hospital when the first horseman struck. There were no cures they could find, no concoctions that worked, no injections or antibodies or anything: they couldn’t even see what was causing the sickness, because the scans showed nothing unusual. Some patients held on longer than others, alive and just showing normal flu symptoms while others died before they could even reach the hospital.

You stayed on the line with her until she lied and told you she’d be alright, making a half assed excuse about feeding the dog so she could hang up.

You knew she just didn’t want you to hear her die.

It felt like cheating - it still feels like that - to be locked up in the lab, enveloped in silence aside from the hollow sound of you breathing and the growl of your stomach, safe while the rest of the world is either dead or collapsed and dying.

You’re beginning to wonder if you’re the last one. Not just because you didn’t glimpse anyone on your brief trips to the petrol station nearby to pilfer food, three masks secured over your face, but because your phone’s dead and the sockets in the lab don’t charge it. Power is down. Water is down, too.

Humanity is on its knees.

Yet still you hope, sitting with your legs tucked to your chest, wedged between the centrifuge and a table that’s set up with a long dead computer. You stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll hear footsteps, wondering when the rustling outside turns out to be a human, not a starving, half diseased fox; there has to be someone - you refuse any other alternative.

You’ve waited for someone to come and rescue you, for the TV to switch back on and a smiling reporter to tell you that it was all some gruesome puppet show put on by some crazy cult, that they’re all in custody and that everyone is fine. That everything is fine. You’ve waited, but no news has come. Still you won’t admit you’re on your own.

You can’t be the last one, and yet it feels that way - like you’re just a solitary, lone heartbeat in a city that used to be full of life, a reluctant survivor drowning in a sea of bodies.

Your head lists to one side, pressing your cheek against the cool metal of the side of the centrifuge so you don’t have to stare down the long space between the lab benches: it’s like being an air stewardess in the aisle of a plane, but the only passengers you have left to inform about safety precautions are the judgemental plastic chairs.

The lab is twice as long as it is wide, with two lab benches against each wall and one free standing one all the way through the middle. Normally, the huge space is a relief, because the previous labs you’ve worked in were at best cramped and at worst sweaty and bereft of air con, but now, it just makes you feel smaller, more alone.

Dim light filters through the gaping side of one of the blinds. For a few days, you kept the blinds open, hoping you’d be able to see if anyone was coming to save you, but you’ve closed them now. Looking out of the glass only ends in seeing bodies on the lifeless pavement outside.

In your dreams, your friends and family slam their hands against the windows, their mouths open in bloody screams, begging you to let them in. Each time, you try, and each time, the door won’t budge. Still, they accuse you, cursing and yelling, saying that you’re a greedy, useless coward.

Sometimes, you agree with them.

Their ships still hover overhead in the crimson sky, as if they’re watching the suffering they’ve caused, rubbing their hands together gleefully while supping on human fear, witnessing with greedy eyes as their first horseman of the apocalypse wipes out everyone - except, apparently, for you.

There’s a strange silence that hangs over the city, as if even the earth is holding its breath. No planes roar overhead, no cars horn in the streets, no trains hiss to a stop in the station - your world has lost its heartbeat. The quiet smothers you, suffocating, reminding you exactly who you are: a survivor, who even when granted luck and life, wishes it was someone else who made it out, someone else who has to shoulder the burden of trying to live in this mess.

To your left, on the table with the computer, there’s a small pile of knives, neatly stacked and ordered in size and sharpness. You took them from the kitchen on day six, the day after the water stopped. You’ve survived them and their temptation for a whole week now, pretending that they’re for your protection, but you’re still all too aware that your life has a timer on it, and there’s an all too easy way to end it early.

You can’t, though. You can’t do it. You tried, but you can’t - you couldn’t even pierce your own weak flesh with the dull steel, nor could you draw blood to stain that same steel the same red as the sky. Some voice within told you that you would be squandering humanity’s last hope at survival and filled you with enough guilt to not touch the knife pile again.

It’s just that you don’t want to be the last hope. You don’t want to be the one who fights valiantly to survive. Undoubtedly, that makes you a coward, for wanting to give in, for allowing things to just happen to you. Your mind won’t let you forget that. Even that is a weakness in itself.

The moment you decided to remain in the lab, not an inkling of a plan in your head, you doomed yourself to an isolated end.

At least if you had left, you wouldn’t have had to die alone.

It’s with that miserable thought that you begin to notice the strange noises. There’s this odd rhythmic thumping, mixed together with these strange scuffling noises and higher register sounds; they shatter the silence that you hate but got used to all the same, interrupting it rudely and irritating you, almost as if the hush had been speaking, you listening avidly to it.

Your heart rate picks up, and you immediately reach for a knife, cocking your head and straining your ears as the noises come closer. Slowly, you realise you know those sounds - the footsteps and voices of people running, people chasing.

A cry leaves you. It comes out strangled and weak, your voice cracking and buckling from lack of use. Your fingers tighten around the handle of the kitchen knife. Suddenly, you feel utterly stupid - there are people out there, surviving, and maybe other people, chasing the survivors but no doubt also trying to stay alive, and here you are, holed up in the place that you used to go for work every day, alternating between sleeping and contemplating death.

Your new found clarity is like lightning in your blood. You leap to your feet as if struck by it, electrified, your breathing quickening as you cock your head, listening harder. Yes, those are voices - human voices, and yes, those are footsteps - human footsteps.

The choice is made the moment it enters your mind.

Still holding the knife, you use your shoulder to barge open the door to the lab, and then the next - the one that contains the little chamber for sterilising before and after entering. You don’t bother to sanitise your hands as you leave. All the organic matter left out by you and your colleagues is long dead.

You’re unsure what you’re going to do once you glimpse the makers of the noise, just that you need to see that there are still humans out there, that all that time you spent thinking you were the last, you weren’t. The insignificance you feel as you hear them approaching is nothing but a relief, a weight off your chest - confirmation that you are not the last hope.

Despite the selfish slant of that thought, your heart jumps. You’re unexpectedly aware that all of your past conclusions are idiotic: a strange, philosophical grave you dug yourself into. The sound of human voices seems to have jolted you out of the madness of it all, of the horsemen and the weight of responsibility that was like rocks in your pockets while you were trying to swim. An almost smile cracks your tired face as you push open the door.

You freeze. This is something you can’t quite get rid of, even in your new-found excitement - the fleeting moment of paralysis when you step foot outside and the sky is neither azure blue or grey and scudding with clouds but red.

It took you at least five trips to take what you needed from the nearby petrol station’s convenience store, yet each time you went from a simple white ceiling to a boundless, crimson sky, you couldn’t help the hesitation that stilled your bones. The sight of it, so bloody and swarming with alien ships, awakens the instincts of a hunted prey within you. Your heart pounds, ready to fight or flee, your legs bending a little as if you could curl into yourself like a frightened mouse hiding from a barn owl.

You know you can’t hide. Worse, you know that they’re watching from their safe little vantage point, embedded in the sky, as you venture out of your stronghold and prison and workplace, holding nothing but a kitchen knife.

You feel stupid all over again.

You’re determined to not let it stop you - instead you push yourself to a jog, mentally berating yourself for not exercising even a little during your stint of self pity in the lab, because your lungs tighten after about fifteen steps, invisible iron bands appearing around your chest and constricting it.

Keeping your eyes ahead of you, you pick your way around a body slumped twenty metres from the lab, face down on the pavement. If you were brave enough, you would close their eyes and arrange them into a respectable position, but you’re terrified that you’ll turn them over and it will be the face of someone you know.

The footsteps are approaching. You can hear individual voices now: muffled cursing, panicked words, and you duck backwards into the shadows cast by the block of flats, the one with the Korean BBQ shop on the ground floor, watching as four men sprint across the open space of the petrol station. More footsteps sound, and your brow furrows, wondering who could be chasing them for them to be running so hard.

They’re all carrying knives. You don’t really notice that, though - you’re busy taking in their dirt smeared, masked faces and the horror in their eyes as they realise they’re backed up against the convenience store, wondering if whatever they’re so worried about means you should just leave them to their fate and run.

A crash sounds. You jump, as do the four men, the two older looking ones pushing the younger ones behind them. The biggest one, dressed in all black and broad in the shoulders, reaches up, one hand brushing over the mask covering the lower half of his face like some sort of nervous tic, his fingers tightening on his knife. Behind him, the tallest pushes so he’s standing in line with the other two, despite the dirty look sent to him by his other companion. The last hurtles into the convenience store, most likely looking for a back exit you know he won’t find.

Hesitantly, you take a step forward, craning your neck to glimpse their attackers, and surprise momentarily nails your feet to the ground.

You expected a horde of monsters eating up the distance towards them, or zombies, or anything inhuman pertaining to the end of the world that would insight the type of panic that reigns in their eyes. It’s nothing of the sort - nothing creeping or crawling or oozing, not even a pack of feral dogs that you heard pass by one night.

They’re humans. Several, maybe a dozen, their faces twisted with anger. But when you look closer, you see the signs of disease: red eyes, sallow faces and emaciated limbs like those of the first horseman.

Worst of all, they don’t look crazy. They look gravely sick, and even more furious, but there is no drool slipping from the corners of their cracked lips, no feverish glint to their eyes, and yet the very marrow of you tells you that this is not normal, human rage. This is something else. This is Pestilence.

Pestilence that will no doubt find you once it wipes out these four men.

You’re closer to them than the sick ones are. The moment you lurch into a sprint from your hiding spot, you know there’s no going back - whether you like it or not, you become one of the survivors, and whether you survive for much longer or not, you’re going to try and help them.

As you cross towards them, your foot splashes through a puddle - a glance confirms that one of the pumps has begun to leak, trailing petrol that has oozed down towards the road and collected by the curb. An idea forms in your mind, and as you run, you yank at the hairband in your hair, tugging it out roughly despite the complaints of your scalp.

“Lighter,” you gasp, skidding to a halt in front of the men. “Give me a lighter. Now.”

The one wearing all black lets out an involuntary shocked noise, his knife arm unconsciously lifting before he lowers it, while the one on his right looks at you distrustfully, scowling. There’s no sign of the last one or a possible lighter he might have - no doubt he’s still looking for an exit through the store, becoming more and more panic stricken as he can’t find one - but the tall one reacts immediately, digging through his pocket and handing you the item he finds.

Your fingers tremble as you fix your hairband around the lighter, making sure it’s tight enough that the button stays down and the flame remains on. It twangs off when you pull it too tight, and you scrabble for it, scooping it off the concrete and trying again, cursing under your breath and praying that you’ll make it out alive long enough to see if the look the scowling one is giving you will actually kill you.

“They’re close,” the one in all black says with an Australian accent. “Really close.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter, fumbling with the hairband.

At last, it snaps into place. Spinning around, you turn and hurl it, launching it through the air. It hits the ground once, and for an awful moment you think you haven’t thrown it far enough, but then it catches the petrol and a roaring wall of flame surges up, so fast that the woman at the front of the mob runs straight into it.

She’s probably still going to die, if her sickness is anything like that which struck down the camera man those weeks ago, but nausea still tugs at your throat, and you look away, paling.

“Holy shit,” someone mumbles.

You turn. The man who they sent into the store to look for an exit has returned, lingering in the doorway as he stares up at the fire. From what it sounds, he’s Australian too, and he’s got lovely freckles, his hair a partially grown out blonde. You glance over at the others to find the scowler and the one in black, who carries himself like a leader, talking to each other quietly as they look at the roaring flames and the pacing figures behind them. It’s clear that the barrier separating you and the sick ones won’t last long.

You make another split second decision. It seems that you’ve become more decisive, since you never used to be this direct, but you guess that’s what the end of the world does: change people, shaping them to improve at survival, for the better or worse of others.

“You can come with me,” you offer. “I know somewhere we can lay low.”

The leader and the scowler exchange a glance. Freckles gives them both a hopeful look, while the tall one looks doggedly at the silhouettes behind the wall of flames as if he can will them away with his gaze, clearly already having made his judgement of you and leaving it up to the other three to decide. Eventually, the scowler gives the leader a curt nod.

The leader holds out his hand. “I’m Chan.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself, giving him a brief smile.

“I’m Felix,” the freckled one says warmly, then points at the tall one. “That’s Seungmin.”

Seungmin jerks his chin at you. “Hey.”

Felix nudges the scowler. “And this is Minho.”

Minho eyes you like he might rip you apart with his bare hands, his gaze appraising as he looks you up and down, sizing you up as if he might need to take you down at any moment. You don’t miss the way his arms fill out his shirt, nor do you miss the daggers he stares at you.

You look away first, feeling a little intimidated as you gesture half heartedly down the road. “It’s this way.”

“Thank you,” Chan says, flashing you a dimple as you begin to walk. “You saved our lives.”

You frown. “Who were they, anyway?”

“It’s got something to do with the Pestilence from the first horseman,” he replies. “They go crazy when they’re near death.”

You laugh, although it sounds hollow. “I can’t believe this is real. I can’t believe I’m alive right now. I can’t believe you guys are alive right now, either.”

“We’re lucky, for sure,” Felix agrees. “We weren’t near the buildings they collapsed when the army sent the fighter jets, either. Were you close when it happened?”

“I didn’t know,” you confess, shame filling you. “I… I was hiding.”

The words are out before you can stop them. You expect accusatory looks, or even to be called a coward, but they just nod, Chan sighing, sympathy clear on Felix’s face. It lightens something in your heart, makes you realise that despite everything that must have happened to them, they’re still people - people who you’re bringing into your hiding spot.

“I work here,” you explain as you let them in. “Or used to, I guess.”

Chan glances around. “It’s a good place. There aren’t many buildings which are safe or haven’t been broken into.”

“You could stay,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

It’s stupid, really. They’d never agree. You’d be the one who would benefit the most, gaining people to watch your back, while to them you’d just be another mouth to feed and another body to protect. You do have a life debt on them, but when everyone’s lives are threatened, you suspect life debts don’t mean as much.

Minho’s gaze snaps to you from where it was wandering over the lab. “There are four more of us, you know.”

“And they’re noisy,” Seungmin adds.

Neither of those statements, you realise with a jolt, is a no. You fight to keep your facial expression under control. Your heart pounds - no doubt the cave woman bent on survival that woke up inside you the moment your instincts had to kick in is jumping for joy at the prospect of safety in numbers.

“I’d manage,” you reply, disbelieving. Surely they’re joking. “I wouldn’t mind some company.”

Chan is regarding you with a strange look on his face. You get the impression that he likes taking in strays - because that’s what you are, a stray, hoping to be let inside but far more likely to be shut out, relying on their kindness more than anything. You’re unable to think of any advantages to adding an eighth mouth to feed on top of his own, but you can see he’s weighing something up in his head.

Of course, they could just kill you and shove your body out the front door. For some reason, they haven’t, and now you’re stretching their kindness, possibly thinner than it can go. All the same, Chan is still looking at you, his strong features softened by his curls and the dimple that shows when a little smile tugs at his lips, almost as if he’s already fond of you.

“Why not?”

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro (let me know if you want to be added)

[teamcavota]

50 milo murphy's law facts

5 not so fun and 45 fun!

Not so fun to start!

The only Milo Murphy's Law official merchandise is a notebook released in Japan for the MML X PNF crossover.

Disney actually apologized to Dan (and I assume Swampy) for the treatment of Milo Murphy's Law. Dan has expressed frustration at the MMLs treatment before, citing the Hiatus between s1 and s2 and the fact it did not air on the main Disney Channel.

Doof appears in more episodes than Cavendish and Dakota in s2 (this is the real reason we needed a s3). Also, while PNF/Doof stuff was planned from the start, Disney did push for more PNF.

When season 2 was airing, new episodes would randomly be released in other countries.

Milo was cut from CATU due to a feeling from Disney that audiences would not recognize his cameo.

ok LAME ones out of the way

On the first drawing of Milo there are three names beside it: Milo, Mikey, and...Monty. As you probably know the Mikey one got pretty far and is the name used in the pitch bible (and was referenced with "I am Mikey!".) The reason Mikey was changed to Milo was not a creative choice, but because there was a popular YouTuber named "Mikey Murphy."

Speaking of, Milo was also just going to be another character apart of a different pitch, but Dan kept thinking he should go into his own show. He went to Swampy and asked him what he thought of Milo (at the time Mikey) and the idea of a show about Murphys Law. it took them about an hour to come up with the concept pitch.

You can find several of MML song dubbings on YouTube and other platforms. Most notably the Japanese version (マイロ・マーフィーの法則) highly worth checking out. Fun fact in a fun fact, Doof and Dakota also share the same voice actor in this dubbing.

In re-airings of some of the first MML episodes, second versions were made that included Cavendish and Dakota in the background.

Yes, Melissa was originally going to feel the lasting effects of the pistachion uprising by remaining looking like one instead of Bradley having his arm turned into a vine. This would have been a source of conflict for her in season 2, but in the end they felt it was too much of a change. As far as Bradley's plant arm it was originally only going to come out sometimes before it was changed to being a constant thing. He does have feeling in this arm.

The Island of Lost Dakota's was going to include a scene with merman Dakota's ("merkotas"). There was also going to be "mutation" Dakotas, such as ones with multiple heads.

There exists a live action version of the Milo Murphy's Law theme song. well, sorta, watch it

Before Milo came out Dwampy made the song "we're gonna do it again."

MML was originally set to debut in early 2017.

Weird Al did not originally come to mind for Milo. One of the idea voices they had was Noah Z Jones (Fish Hooks). They auditioned hundreds of people for Milo, but many had issues such as sounding too nervous in their lines. It wasn't until Alex Hirsch (Gravity Falls) posted a photo with Weird Al that Dwampy realized he'd be perfect for the role.

Sara is based on a friend of Dwampy.

In tune with the popular headcanon/fan theory, it's possible they did actually consider making Cavendish a descendant of Milo. When Cavendish was going to agree he also liked Milo, he was going to say he was his descendant. *this may have also just been a joke line

Milo and Cavendish are meant to mirror eachother in the fact Milo deals with Murphy's Law and Cavendish is the "author of his own misery" in regards to things going wrong.

Another thing they considered was the possibility of Dakota and Cavendish being in a romantic relationship, but they ultimately decided they wanted them to have them represent a strong male friendship.

The Milo Murphys Law crew did keep up a fanart and concept art wall. Here, here, and here are some photos.

There was a baby Cavenpus cut from final productions.

There are no official ages for Dakota and Cavendish. Dan has said he believes Cavendish to be older, while Joshua Pruett has said he believes Dakota to be the older one and by a bit of a margin.

Pistachios came to be a thing in the show because a son of some of Dan's neighbors had been allergic to specifically pistachios. They needed an idea for the larger plot and somehow those two came together. (Swampy also notes it's a funny word).

Several of the scripts for MML storyboarders included just the words, "and Murphy's Law happened."

Dan has made at least one Vinnie Dakota dedicated Tiktok similar to his Doof ones.

The Doof and Dakota lines were recorded together, back and forth.

Melissa was going to have a hamster nemesis named Ham. In the Pitch Bible the name wasn't included, but it's explained it was a pet class hamster that would always escape and end up on her things.

The secret handshake Milo and Zack do in scream-a-tourium was intended to be longer.

The studio executive for MML originally thought The Island of Lost Dakota's was a joke idea until he read the script.

There was a MML kids menu at Disneyland circa 2016.

Dakota and Cavendish were originally not in the shows ideas, nor was any B-plot, but being used to it in PNF the writers room felt they "needed something to cut away to"

Joshua Pruett pitched for the MML x PNF crossover for where when Milo opened his backpack to pull out the thing he needed to save the world it'd be...Phineas and Ferb.

Dakota is the reason parking tickets exist, as he can be a bit careless about leaving time vehicles all over the place. Dakota is proud of this.

Melissa's likeness and name is based on Dan's daughter Meli, as to sorta "balance out" Isabella also being based on his other daughter.

They considered a twist where Bob Block would be an alien wearing a face mask.

"Cavendish Farms" is an episode that never came to be pitched by Pruett where in order to track Cavendish Dakota would try to duplicate Cavendish, though none of them would quite be Cavendish. One of the Cavendishs would have a heart to heart with Dakota, while Doof would ultimately call out Dakota for what he's doing and tell Dakota "you already know what he would do." dwampy rejected this idea because this was a bad idea, to which pruett felt that is exactly why Dakota would have tried it. if renewed, pruett would have tried to convince them more on it.

Chop Away at My Heart was originally called "Jump Jump Jump" and was made for another project by one of Dan's friends. After Dan have asked to transform it into something else for Milo, Joshua Pruett suggested a "Lumberjack themed boyband" in the script.

unfortunate split for character block limit

Dakotas voice was inspired by Elvis Costello. It's also the harder voice for Dan in comparison to Doof.

Mark Hamill originally auditioned to play a teacher on the show, but Dwampy liked his audition so much they decided he'd better fit Mr. Block.

In the MML pitch bible it is stated, "Mikey has a destiny to fulfill, something vital to the future of the planet." The goal of Cavendish and Dakota would be to make sure he stays on the right path.

There IS a full version of We're Going to the Zoo, which was played by Dan in this interview at 3:00:30. Several MML songs have had full versions leaked, implying this is probably the case for some other songs too.

Like several other characters, Sara in the MML pitch bible was different from her show counterpart, being "a hipster like Thora Butch in Ghost World."

The song "A World Without Milo" is based on the song "Happy Together" by "The Turtles"

Almost every character, including creatures or minor one-offs had a name in the script. An example is "Pia," the name of the poodle Diogee falls in love with.

In regards to when Dakota talks about cutting through the Mesozoic in First Impressions and the fact it is illogical, Dan says this is likely just Dakota being Dakota (aka, it was a mistake), and not every such line should be taken serious.

In a deleted "Snow Way Out" line it was confirmed that the raccoon in Going the Extra Milo and Fungus Among Us is recurring raccoon.

Brick and Savannah were going to have a role in the crossover.

Story ideas from the MML pitch bible that never came to include a beach episode, a Friday the 13 episode, and an episode where Cavendish and Dakota try convincing Milo to take a self defense class leading to conflict with a hidden ninja gang.

For unspecified characters (probably multiple different sets) Pruett wrote in hugs that were cut by (mostly) Dan. In response, he says he "put 4 in so at least 1 stays."

S3 would have likely included: A third Block (yes, still voiced by Mark Hamill and a Block "family meeting"), Milo creating the universe, Dakota and Cavendish getting the promotion they wanted but being unsatisfied, Elliot cleverly being connected to the overarching plot, AU exploration (akin to pnf) including an episode where Dr Zone is real, and a conclusion to the Prof Time arc. The overarching plot would have been the "biggest yet."

credits to: danvillecheese for suggestions + encouragement, cheetochild989 for facts the fact about going to the zoo and a world without milo, the 2nd dimension on YouTube, my hamsterward friends, and of course all the talented people who worked on MML :3

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

Previous - Part 5 - Next

"This looks like a funeral home!"

You said, clapping, alarming Curly who had barely woken up about ten minutes ago. 

You started to open the curtains to let some light in and turned on the television, looking for a channel that plays music instead of news. 

You smiled when you found one with music you like and were ready to go prepare breakfast, but you almost fell from the shock when you saw Curly. 

"Hey-!... You got up on your own..." you mentioned, holding your chest. 

Curly: "Ah... Yes, I made coffee but... I couldn't serve it, it's still in the coffee maker... Do you do that every day?"

"...You have a very, very deep sleep, in case you didn't know..." 

You kept staring at him, not taking your eyes off him as you slowly walked to grab the coffee pot to pour the coffee into two cups. 

Curly: "What do you want to do today?"

You raised an eyebrow as you thought of a response. 

"There's an amusement park in the city, how does that sound?"

Curly: "Sounds good" he nodded. 

You gave him a smile and pushed him a little, making him lose his balance and have to hold onto the table to avoid falling. 

"Impossible, you're going to fall apart if we go there. We need to practice your walking and how to use your new limbs."

Curly: "What do you recommend then?" he asked, finally standing up with some difficulty. 

"Let's go for a jog!" She patted his back, ready to prepare something to add to breakfast. 

After eating, they both changed into clothes, some for training. 

Curly noticed how loose his clothes had become due to the loss of muscle. 

"Later I can adjust it if you like, is it very uncomfortable for you?" 

You approached him to check it. 

Curly: "I'm worried that my pants will fall down."

"Look how easy that is to fix" 

You went to get thread and a needle to make a hem on the waistband of the pants and you put a few stitches in the hem to make it snug. 

"Done, I'll adjust it properly another day, now let's go, let's go"

First, you took a drive to a less busy area; you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable with the attention of people passing by on the road. 

"It's great that you can stand up and walk, do you think it's okay to try climbing up to that sign?" 

Curly: "Or course. I can do it" 

"Oh, someone is enthusiastic?" 

You laughed and got ready next to him to start jogging, he lagged behind for a few seconds but then took a few steps. 

You quickly returned when you heard he had fallen to help him get back on his feet. 

You repeated that action several times, but you got worried when he fell and his face hit the ground directly. 

"Hey, maybe jogging was too ambitious, we can walk through the forest here." 

He stood up with your help, head down, annoyed for not being able to do something he used to do every day a while ago. 

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you? "Let me see" 

You slowly removed the mask he was wearing to check it, and they were startled by the scream of a child, just as a mother with her child was passing by. 

Curly immediately turned to the other side so the child wouldn't have to see it while the woman gestured apologetically, carrying her son and quickly leaving the place. 

"They're gone now" you said, patting his shoulder. 

Curly: "I know... That i must look really bad... "

"Hey, don't think too much about it, come on, let's take a walk to clear your mind, okay?"

You took the sleeve of his jacket to pull him with you, delving into the forest and walking along the already marked path. 

He stood there watching as you held onto his clothes, and saw the prosthesis, how crude it was in shape, being made only to be functional and not aesthetic. 

I would like to hold her hand... 

He thought while still focused on your hand, and you turned to look at him when his prosthetic touched your forearm, strangely it felt like a caress. 

When he realized what he had done, he got nervous. 

Curly: "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to scare you." 

"No, no, no problem, I should have let you go. You must have felt really bad being pulled."

You said, smiling as you let go of his clothes, but that made him even more depressed. 

You continued walking until you felt a tug on your jacket, looking at the man in confusion. 

Curly: "...I have better balance if I hold onto you"

"Mm? Do you think you can keep up with me?"

You smiled with a hint of mischief as you walked slowly at first, and with each step, you increased your speed, making Curly follow you at the same pace, without letting go of your jacket. 

And within a few minutes, both were jogging in sync, your legs even moving in perfect harmony. 

You ran the entire forest trail until you returned to the starting point, both laughing, very excited about Curly's rapid progress. 

They took a break to drink some water and rest a bit, sitting on the hood of the car. 

Curly: "I missed this..." 

"Did you use to exercise a lot?"

Curly: "Yes, it was one of my hobbies, exercising, lifting weights, jogging, I had my own routine, it was nice."

"You were athletic too, mm, you sounded like the perfect man," you stretched before getting up.

He remained thinking about your words, sighing as he remembered that he would never be that man again.

Curly: "Yeah... someone cool, right?"

"Not for me. Routines aren't bad, but ugh they make me sick, perfect people, they seem like robots programmed to do the same thing until they die. Everything they do seems so good, they eat healthy, exercise, work, study, but it just ends up being a cycle because... they don't aspire to anything else, you know?" 

You shrugged as you opened the door of your car. 

"Because... what's the point of reaching the top if you're not going to keep climbing something higher?"

He felt that for a moment, his entire world had stopped; he could only hear the beating of his heart, and everything else was just silence. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but only a sigh escaped, lost in your silhouette before him, who only hoped you would get in the car so you could go home together. 

When you honked the horn, you brought him out of his trance. 

"Are you going to get in or are you going to run to home?" you asked, smiling. 

I knew well that you were capable of leaving it there, so he quickly climbed up next to your seat.

[steveyockey]

I paid $5 to access séamus malekafzali’s latest substack on palestine, here’s the full text,

It is easy to be lulled into a state of complacency, even with military occupation.

Israel’s occupation of Palestine has gone on longer than many of us on Earth have been alive, now going on 75 years. The levels of that deplacement, blockading, and violence have ebbed and flowed over years and decades, but that hand around the neck has always remained, even if how much it constricts has a tendency to loosen and tighten. Over 200 Palestinians have been killed by Israel this year in its occupation. News bulletins of them dying, oftentimes teenagers, come up through the headlines of Palestinian newspapers and channels as often as the weather. These deaths at the hands of Israeli security personnel are not isolated incidents, with soldiers materializing on roadsides and at checkpoints as unfortunate coincidence. They are constant spikes in the waveform of an incessant low-grade hum of humiliation, imprisonment, and destruction that has made daily life a forced agreement to constantly exist on the precipice of death.

This framing is not meant to be a tired retread of the conflict between Israel and Palestine or the nature of the Israeli occupation. This is meant to be a bulwark against the inevitable framing of this latest battle unfolding around Gaza, as it will appear in the Western media in the days to come.

There is a tendency, a deep-set one, to report Israel and Palestine as two countries that are on roughly the same playing field internationally, as you might report on a war that might involve Israel battling against a place like Jordan or Egypt. This kind of coverage obscures how deeply interlocked Israel’s military operations are with the fabric of the Palestinian society.

In the West Bank, settlements and checkpoints have made Palestinian land into a kind of comical archipelago, where in addition to being separated from Gaza by a huge land border, they are also separated from traveling to communities only a stone’s throw away from them without going through significant anguish. In Gaza, while no Israeli soldiers walk the streets, all their land borders are essentially sealed, their ports almost completely blockaded. Israel’s continued occupation has been so pinpoint and precise that its planes have gone as far as bombing bookstores, and its restrictions did not let up even when the COVID-19 pandemic reduced one health organization to carrying only as many tests of the deadly disease as could fit in a car.

This is not a matter of moral justification; one does not need to constantly busy themselves with having to make a full ideological conversion before understanding this. This is a matter of cause and effect.

What is the logical expectation, regardless of politics, ideology, culture, and creed, when a population of people is thrust into conditions that can only be described as an open-air prison, where every individual is a criminal in the eyes of the military occupying power regardless if they pick up a rifle or not, because there is supposedly always the threat that they will one day?

These are the basic conditions that have preceded the initiation of Operation al-Aqsa Storm this morning. As dawn broke on the morning of October 7, only one day after the 50th anniversary of the Yom Kippur War, Hamas’ military wing, the al-Qassam Brigades, launched a military operation of unprecedented scope in its history. Hamas fighters would not only attempt to enter Israeli territory proper with ground troops, already in of itself an intensely bold action (though not without precedent in the past decade). This operation would be a combined incursion into Israel by both land, sea, and even air. Ground forces would cut the border fence into settlements surrounding Gaza, speedboats would make landings in southern Israel, and fighters from a newly-inaugurated paraglider division would fly over the border fortifications and then further inland.

Threats of an invasion of Israeli territory proper have been a staple of speeches from Hamas and Hezbollah and groups like it for years. There was a long-standing perception by outside observers that it was fanciful. An intentionally lofty piece of propaganda that fires up supporters while the real military wheeling and dealing is done under far more subtle and controlled terms, as with most militant organizations. After all, no Israeli-administered town, the ones occupied in Palestine during the initial 1948 war, had ever been taken in any war against the Jewish state since its creation, even by a combined force of multiple Arab national militaries.

That notion now can no longer exist.

At sunrise, Hamas fired a gigantic barrage of rockets into Israeli territory, a staggering 5,000 in the first wave alone. As Israeli military and police forces were distracted by fires and rocket destruction in residential areas of the country, Palestinian forces in Gaza proceeded to make their primary move.

After the sun rose, Hamas cut through the border fence surrounding Israel and sent both fighters on foot and on motorcycles into Israel. Images released by the group seem to tell a story in frozen figures. Israeli soldiers, strewn dead, caught by surprise, one having even rushed out so quickly that he put on his military gear but no other clothes except his underwear. An even grimmer story could be found in one of the IDF military dormitories, where an entire room full of soldiers had been massacred, only having perhaps seconds earlier gotten the alarm that Hamas had breached the perimeter, many of them seemingly mid-way through getting out of bed.

From there, Hamas made unprecedented move after unprecedented move. Hamas fighters moved as far north into Zikim, built on the former Palestinian village of Hiribya, and moved as far east as Ofakim, built on the former hamlet of Khirbat Futais. The Erez Crossing, for years the only legal border crossing that Israel operated with the Gaza Strip, came under full Palestinian control. Sderot, a city where Israelis had once gathered on couches dragged to high peaks to watch the bombardment of Palestinians, now found themselves facing down Palestinian fighters in their own streets.

An additional shock would come in Israel’s initial response. Amidst cataclysmic scenes like hundreds of ravers in the desert near Gaza fleeing on foot, neither the Israeli president nor the prime minister spoke in those early hours in the morning.

The Israeli high command, despite the continuous insistence of Palestinian factions that they would one day attempt to take the fight into Israel itself, had become complacent. They, like many observers of Israel-Palestine, believed the occupation they had constructed could go on forever, unburdened by the need to adapt. Israeli soldiers after all were now more used to sniping reporters and unarmed protesters than engaging in military conflict. Entropy was what was propelling the military occupation complex of the Jewish state, not a wholly active effort.

Despite an ungodly amount of Western military equipment, highly advanced anti-aircraft systems programmed to shoot down thousands of rockets, an international reputation for tenacity and strategic knowhow, and multiple victories against Arab nations again and again and again, all of it ended up being useless against a Hamas fighter flying in on a box fan and a parachute.

This failure is two-fold, and both are closely related. One is the expectation that things could go on as before without addressing the root of the issue (that being a military occupation of an entire state), and the other in expectation that those being occupied had no capacity to learn from experience how Israel’s military strategy operates, people who could then going on to capitalize on that knowledge.

There is a fundamental flaw in the perception of Western powers toward the Middle East in general and Arabs in particular that because the groups fighting with Israel or the United States are irregular, bereft of highly professional uniforms and dedicated gigantic military headquarters, that they do not have the same ability to strategize and to confront the forces that are occupying their countries. Flashes of how faulty this thinking is rear their head again and again, from Iraq to Afghanistan and everywhere in-between and around, but still the idea, unspoken as it may be, remains that they are fundamentally unequipped compared to the might they are fighting against. But Hamas has military strategists of its own, ones that understand the asymmetric situation they are dealing with, and ones that understand what the actual capabilities of Israel are, versus what their perception is.

The perception of Israel’s invulnerability versus what has actually been displayed today could not have been more different. Instead of being forced to immediately pull back, in essence making today a raid, Hamas has instead actually contested several Israeli settlements, which are still being fought over at time of this writing many hours after the initial incursion from Gaza began. A single Israeli soldier captured and held in Gaza used to capture the Israeli imagination for years; now there are believed to be not only tens of soldiers captured by Hamas, but tens of Israeli civilians as well, all now being held within the Strip. Hamas has also brought Israeli military vehicles back into the Strip, the novelty of working IDF equipment now under Palestinian control a source of celebration within the territory. Over 100 Israelis are believed to have been killed in the first day of Hamas’ attack, and nearly 1000 injured, a shocking early casualty count in an ongoing conflict where casualties on the Palestinians’ side are usually far more lopsided.

Israel’s response so far to Hamas’ operation has been to escalate rhetorically, with Netanyahu now calling this a war, and escalating its usual military strategy with Gaza, with carpet bombing now on an intense, concentrated scale. At the time of this writing, almost 200 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza in only a few hours, with that number expected to rise significantly in the days to come. Already, news has come in of Israeli planes having leveled Gaza’s second-largest building, the Palestine Tower, which housed a plethora of media offices, in scenes reminiscent of Israel’s bombing of another tower block of media offices in 2021 that infamously took out the local bureau of the Associated Press.

As fighting continues into the night in ways never seen before since 1948, the question remains: after all these decades, why now?

The ostensible justifications of what the clincher was that sparked this operation are innumerable, but two appear to be most clearly illuminated: the recent increased activity of far-right Zionists at the al-Aqsa Mosque in occupied East Jerusalem (hence the name of the operation itself), but just as well the indications that the Saudi Arabia and Israel may be close to a normalization deal, which would be the largest such development in the Abraham Accords yet. Hezbollah mentioned this operation as being a “message” and a “decisive response” to Arab nations pursuing the idea of normalization with Israel. Still, it is important to recognize that pinning the undertaking of a completely gigantic operation of this scale as just a simple message to Saudi Arabia would be reductive. As the Los Angeles Times’ international correspondent Nabih Bulos says of the matter:

“To pretend that Hamas did this to be a spoiler of KSA-Israel normalization is just downright epic in its navel-gazing nonsense.”

What is important to always return to is that eternally governing line above everything: the low hum of constant occupation, and who has been causing its spikes. Israel’s government, its most far-right in its history, has been on the warpath almost immediately from its inauguration, with figures like Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich, now thrust to the forefront, doing everything large and small to provoke a Palestinian response. The hope is that the inevitable Palestinian response can mobilize the Israeli society, that it can be swiftly defeated by the Israeli military, and that the Israeli state can use such an opportunity to impose its sovereignty over what little of Palestine governed by Palestinians remains, and perhaps even what lies beyond it.

But that formula relies on the Palestinian side only accepting being provoked, themselves having no strategy of their own outside of firing rockets and yelling on television. Military occupation breeds a feeling of annihilation, but that annihilation is enclosed with it inevitable feelings of rabid and desperate hope, inspiring within irregular groups desires to try things never tried before. These are not always guaranteed to be successful: one may look at Aleppo when rebel groups managed to come together and break the siege on the city in the final stages of the battle, only for it to fall in the months to come anyway. Nevertheless, there is a real perception within Israel, communicated out to the world by its media and by its intelligentsia, that it is a nation on the verge of internal collapse, brought to the precipice by far-right forces it has let fester for decades without envisioning its eventual conclusion.

What does looking at how Israel is faring now communicate to Palestinian factions in Gaza? What do young people in Gaza, who make up 47% of the Strip’s population, imagine might lie ahead for them as they see these events unfold? What does a Hamas fighter imagine might be possible when, as the writer Josef Burton says, he exits a 25 by 7-mile space he’s never left in his entire life?

[biteofcherry]

to find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; power imbalance; forced relationship; D/s undertones; public humiliation; groping; dirty talk

I did warn you this Steve is dark 😜

word count: 4k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

5. Breaking ice 

~ * ~ 

You’ve never been more annoyed with a sunny day and warm lightness filling your bones than you felt the day after the apothecary incident. Extra bounce to your step as the sun stroked your face and corners of your lips threatening to curl up irked you immensely. 

Every other minute you tried to force yourself into a stormy mood.

Into an expected reaction to what has happened.

You faced direct danger, witnessed people being killed in cold blood, you were trapped in a relationship with a fucking mobster, who - on top of it all - screwed your body and mind in a most wicked, deranged way.

You shouldn’t be feeling cheery. That reaction was inadequate to the situation and to the moral norms you thought you possessed. 

Either Rogers had that strong of an impact that you quickly bent to his dark whims, or the spine you thought you had always been a noodle not a steel rod. 

How otherwise explain the fact repulsion at his manhandling transformed into thrill and arousal? 

Last night, when you finally went to bed after taking a thorough scrubbing shower (and crunching a few cranberry pills to pray the UTI away), the images of being fucked with a gun resurfaced in a colorful burst. 

The crystalline blue frozen in ice of Steve’s irises, the soft pink of his lips inches away from yours, the black of the gun against your floral dress. 

It made you sticky instead of sick. 

You had some knowledge of the psychological aspects to rough sex fantasies, or bdsm preferences, even consensual non-consent role play; but they all were considered normal when consented and previously explored. 

You did not give Steve your verbal consent. Yet you didn’t exactly fight him. Convincing yourself it was because he had a gun and could kill you with it fell poorly since your pussy clenched at the memory of the barrel against your skin. 

What has your life become - cranberry pills and getting wet from being violated.

You were angry, yes, but not at what you should be. Your annoyance with Rogers was peaking, but the true resentment wasn’t only toward his actions. It was directed at yourself for not being outraged by what happened. 

When the next day at work Natalie asked you about the meeting, you gave her the short version - a trap being set up and Rogers coming to save you. The part about coming all over his gun was left unspoken.

You told yourself it’s to spare yourself further humiliation, but a part of you simply feared you’d get turned on thinking about it again. 

Really, that should be a topic to pick at a therapy session, but you couldn’t do that either. You had enough common sense to know going to a psychotherapist was out of the question, not with the man who was about to become your husband. You couldn’t tell all the truth in a session (to not risk a therapist’s life) and going there only to lie and omit had no sense. 

So you decided to channel everything onto the job. 

Focusing on work meant not allowing your thoughts to roam around Steve fucking Rogers, as well not giving your body reasons to stir with arousal. 

You caught up on paperwork, made a few phone calls - including those less important, just to occupy yourself; you visited the new speech therapist in their office. Being busy enhanced the sense of lightness, which you preferred to read as having no space to overthink and stress, instead of wondering if getting debauched was the sole cause of your serenity. 

However, the lull of denial burst the moment Natalie came into your office with lunch.

Lunch you didn’t order, and a couple trailing behind her with creepily bright smiles on their faces. 

“Miss Leigh Parrish and Mister Elias Asher are here for you.” Natalie informed you, professional as always, though you noticed the barely constrained eye roll. “And they brought you lunch, apparently.”

“What?” You looked at the set of neat three boxes with delicious looking food then at Natalie and at the pair behind her. 

The two walked in with confidence, as if they were about to take over your office. The woman, Leigh, had a pad in her hand and a huge binder under her other arm. The man held some small kind of measure tape and a little blue notebook. 

If they were some new donors, or a company who wanted to start a program with your health center, they sure were the very first to start negotiations this way. Usually you were invited to lunch, not have it brought. People meeting you were also more reserved and polite, instead of barging in with some wacky energy. 

“Lunch is from Mister Rogers, we’re just delivering since we were going to be here anyway,” said Leigh, her toothpaste-commercial grin not changing for a second.

Instantly your mood dropped, your eyebrows creasing into a hostile frown. 

“And why are you here?” Your tone remained calm, but you made sure displeasure in it was audible. 

Steve randomly buying you lunch was a worrying problem you stored to resolve later; though you had a feeling he wouldn’t care that these nice gestures annoyed you, as they clashed with the picture of a ruthless mobster you were adamant on hating forever. 

The two cheery people coming in unannounced - at the direction of Steve, undoubtedly - became the aim of your irritation and distrust. 

“To help you plan your wedding, of course.” They both beamed in unison and you almost groaned at how overtly sweet the woman’s tone has become. 

“Mr Rogers mentioned you’re fighting nerves, which is absolutely understandable,” Leigh cooed and your fingers twitched, ready to reach for something to throw it at her. “Planning a wedding can be stressful, especially an impromptu one. But that’s why I’m here! I’m the best wedding planner in the city and I’ll make sure it surpasses all your dreams.”

Your reluctance toward the wedding wasn’t something you hid from Rogers. Quite the opposite, you announced it any chance you had; within limits of reason, to avoid being disposed of.

Him sending in an actual wedding planner was a move you did not expect. At all. 

You’d sooner anticipate him dragging you in your pajamas in front of a forced registrar to get it over with. 

Ah, but that would be too easy. Not enough torment for you. Not enough room for you to show how obedient of a wife you’d be. 

We both know you will be a good girl for me, Princess, his voice resounded in your head, a decadent richness that softened your limbs for a split of a second before your resistance kicked in. 

Having you organize the wedding, or at least actively participate in it, was a lesson - that you would follow his orders even if you hated them.  

“The best wedding planner in the city has a free slot to organize a wedding in a month?” You arched a single eyebrow, studying the woman. “What skeletons are in your closet that my fiance managed to blackmail you?”

You didn’t doubt she was one of the best, but those had their schedules booked for three years in advance. To have her clear it for you meant there was more than just money at stake for Miss Leigh Parrish. 

Her smile faltered for a second, but she regained her composure fast. She ignored your question, walking instead toward your desk and placing her huge binder on it. 

“Since we have the venue covered, with Mr Rogers estate being more than enough to host the event,” she went on, “there are only details to talk over. Let’s start with the wedding rings, so that Elias can begin working on them right away.”

Her companion stepped forward. The tiny measuring tape in his hand now made sense, as it apparently was to measure the circumference of your finger to match a ring size.

“Let’s start-” you interrupted, pushing your chair back- “with you leaving my office.”

Interesting how you managed to maintain your poised self, professionally cool as you delivered the polite fuck you, while that composure quickly dissolved around Rogers. 

You kinda stepped on eggshells around him at first (and still, sensing when the crossing line was too near), but then his demands lit your fuse. Somehow you dared to stomp your foot, be loud in your outbursts and acts of rebellion. And it wasn’t because Steve provided safe space, oh no. He was far from safe. 

“What?” The man blinked, confused, while his friend blanched.

“We have to get it done. As soon as possible.” Still trying to sound sweet and soft, Leigh made the mistake of allowing a tremble to shake her voice. 

“Then get it done, I don’t really care.” You shrugged.

It was the truth. You didn’t care for the ceremony at all. 

You had a brief thought about hating it, if it was some overused boho or retro theme in a barn, but then again you would hate it anyway, since you didn’t want to marry Steve. Besides, it could be funny to see his face if someone told him to wear suspenders and a flat cap for aesthetics.

“You, um, you don’t want to participate in preparations for your own wedding?” Leigh frowned, utterly surprised. “Not even pick a dress?” 

“I can wear a t-shirt and flip-flops for all I care.” You probably wouldn’t go that far, but you really didn’t care. 

If Rogers didn’t order you to wear a wedding dress, you’d do it anyway just to please your parents who were going to be completely oblivious to the truth behind your speedy wedding. You preferred to keep it that way, playing someone so dumbly in love she was ready to marry a few weeks after meeting the guy. You didn’t want to worry your parents.  

Natalie snorted at your words, for the very first time so openly showing amusement. She even grinned when you glared at her, then turned on her heel and walked outside.

“The, um, the wedding rings?” Elias cleared his throat.

“Barbed wire would be fitting,” you snorted under your breath, but he didn’t seem to hear it. You suspected he might’ve fainted if he did. 

“Whatever Mister Rogers wishes,” you shrugged. “As a matter of fact, why don't you go and consult with him?” 

To underline that you were done with this whole shit-show, you opened one of the lunchboxes and dug a fork into it. You didn’t lift up your eyes from the delicious food until you heard the door closing.   

You ate your lunch while idly browsing the internet, just to get your thoughts off the wedding completely. It was approaching with each passing day and you preferred not to accept the fact. 

Though you weren’t sure denial would work once there was an actual ring on your finger. 

It seemed it wouldn’t work even before that, because not a half hour after you dismissed the wedding planner the door to your office opened with impetus.

Steve strode inside, a force of a thousand storms contained in a man’s body. 

His heavy boots and the hem of his tight jeans seemed to be freshly stained with something wet and dark. The rest of him was perfectly clean, not a smudge of dirt on his hands. You tried not to think of blood splashing on his shoes and legs as a lifeless victim fell at Steve's feet.

You definitely tried to ignore a wave of heat that washed over you at the thought. 

You forced your eyes to stay on the devil’s angelic face, drowning in the hues of blue, so that your gaze wouldn’t slide across Steve’s body in search of a gun holster. 

“Princess.” Steve sighed, but there was an undertone of amusement in his voice. 

He walked toward you with purposeful steps; his mass seemingly changing the gravity inside your office, so that all light fractured to disappear in his approaching darkness. 

Or maybe it was your attention discarding anything in your peripheral to focus on him, as if he was the center of your world. 

You abruptly stood up and shuffled back instinctively, bumping into a bureau. Steve caged you against it, blocking any route of escape with his arms on both sides of you. It was only then that you tilted your chin up, tapping into the remnants of your steel defiance.

“Why am I hearing that you’re scaring off the wedding team?” Steve tilted his head to the side and chuckled. “They’re here to take the planning burden off your shoulders, so that you can focus on your work. And your future role…”

You swore that if he said anything about wifely duties, you’d kick him.

“I told them they can plan whatever they want. As long as they do it far away from me,” your mocking sweet smile combined with your sneer. 

Perhaps your tone provoked it, or maybe a challenging fire in your eyes, but Steve’s lips curved into a wolfish grin. 

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, “look at your cute yip, yet there’s no real bite to it.” 

It was very dangerous to do anything to antagonize Rogers, especially when he was this close and could snap your neck with his bare hands, but you acted before a reasonable thought settled in.

You opened your mouth and caught his thumb between your teeth, clenching your jaw enough to cause pain, but not drawing blood.

Steve’s eyes hardened, the blue of his irises darkening. Time froze for a split second; you could almost hear the ice cracking beneath your feet and the murky depths awaiting to swallow your dead body. 

Suddenly your eyes widened, when instead of backhanding you, Steve pushed his thumb further between your lips.

Your teeth released their grip, his digit easing into your mouth and pressing against your tongue. Saliva pooled around it and you instinctively hollowed your cheeks. 

Twisted satisfaction igniting in his eyes and the subtle thrust of his thumb along your tongue stirred you from stupor. Scorching shame filled you to the roots, though you hoped it didn’t show. 

You pulled back, turning your face away from Steve as you swallowed remnants of his taste. He tilted your chin with his wet thumb, forcing you to look him in the eye again. What the fuck was with this man and maintaining eye contact? 

“Let’s get it over with, shall we?” He smoothed a hand down your arm and wrapped his fingers around your wrists. 

Next thing you knew Steve was calling for Elias Asher, as he stretched your arm out; thumb pressing into your palm to make your fingers stretch. 

Elias stumbled inside and almost tripped over his own feet at the sight the two of you displayed - you pressed against the bureau with Rogers’ intimidating size looming over you, your hand offered on a silver platter. 

“You mentioned you need measurements for the ring size,” Steve intoned conversationally, “do what you must.”

You glared daggers at Steve, which he accepted unbothered. The jeweler’s fingers didn’t shake as he wrapped a small measuring tape around your finger and wrote down the result in his notebook. However, all the while he was staring either at your finger or his notes, never up at either of you.

That way it was easier to pretend the scene before him wasn’t close to intimate, or that he didn’t suspect you were being forced into marriage.

“What type of metal?” His voice wavered slightly. 

“White gold,” came Steve’s decided reply. 

Something told you that while he was giving you free will to organize the wedding however you liked, Steve had already chosen how your permanent shackle looks like. 

You peeked at his hand, gaze sliding across the rings adorning his thick fingers. You noticed there was none on the finger on which a wedding band is worn. He was going to make sure that your rings matched the set he was already wearing.   

“Pure and fierce, like my fiancée.” Steve added, with a mocking tilt. 

“And the cut?” Elias scribbled down, not lifting his eyes at either of you even once.

Steve’s eyes sparked mischievously. His right hand moved up your thigh, squeezing your thick flesh through the fabric of your skirt.

“Cushion?” Steve mused aloud.

Then his touch moved upwards, along your ribcage and ghosting over the swell of your breast. 

“Round?” He cupped your tit indecently, causing you to gasp in outrage that he dared to do it in front of someone. 

That he dared to do it at all!

“No. We know which suits you best, right?” Steve’s hand ventured north, brushing your collarbone before his fingers curled around the front of your neck. 

“A princess cut.” 

Ringed fingers wrapped around your throat loosely, but it was a firm enough gesture to boil your blood and weaken your knees. 

You couldn’t blame it on the fear of being strangled, because not a single thought about it entered your mind when Steve did that. Neither when he did it the first time, in his kitchen, nor now. 

What you thought about was the power he spread over you and how it melted your resolve into an obedient puddle. Against all reason. 

Unable to look away from Steve, you didn’t notice the jeweler leaving your office in a hurry, undoubtedly ready to drink away what he tried not to witness. You didn’t even hear the door close, your ears were filled with the sound of your own heart pounding in a quickened rhythm as Steve’s hold on you continued. 

Slowly (it seemed reluctant, too), Steve loosened his grip. He didn’t move it away, though, shifting it only slightly, so his hand splayed like a necklace above your sternum. 

You took a shaky breath in, cogs in your brain starting to turn anew. 

“Why can’t we just sign the papers without this wedding party fuss?” You asked quietly, gaze shifting from Steve’s hold on your hand to his face. 

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he let go of it and took a step away from you. He swiped a hand over his mouth then gave you a blank, almost condescending look.

“Because I need everyone convinced I’m here after your cute ass, Princess. Blind with love or lust, or whatever people want to believe in,” he winked at you, as if you were supposed to agree with his cynical assessment.

You thought quite the opposite. That no one sane would believe Steve Fucking Rogers was interested in you. 

“Who would even believe that?” You snorted, frowning.

It wasn’t about insecurities of any kind; you were mildly confident both in your looks and your worth. However, men like Rogers didn’t even circle around women of your kind. 

Men of power; men who rode the thin line of morality, mostly treading through the dark side; they went for women who craved such things. Women who suited that lifestyle. Women rotten at the core, or greedy (whether for wealth, or for power and influence). Or at least for women who looked really fucking good on their arms, like models and escorts. 

No one, none of Steve’s rivals surely, would believe that he was simply courting you. You beside him made zero sense.

Steve laughed. Actually laughed. A warm, sparkling burst of amusement that made his handsome face gain impossible boyish charm. 

“That a man got addicted to a sweet pussy?” He looked down at you, still grinning. But that grin transformed into a sly curve. 

“Everyone, Princess.” He leaned closer, again; voice nearly purring as his lips brushed your cheek. “I can assure you that even at this moment they’re thinking I’m balls deep inside you.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that rocked your body. Judging by the way Steve’s eyes dragged down and up your frame, he noticed your reaction. 

“I’m kinda thinking about it, too.” He licked his lips, drawing your hungry attention to them.

But the ire at his crude words snapped you out of daze. Your fingers curled in a fist and you pounded it against Steve’s chest when he pressed his weight into you.

“In your dreams!” You hissed.

Your small fist made no real impact against Steve’s hard chest. It didn’t deter him and it seemed he didn’t even feel any pain from the hit. 

His hands returned to your body, boldly gripping your hips and holding you in place as he licked along your jaw. He flicked your earlobe with his tongue - a lewd tease that should disgust you, but instead made your pussy tingle.  

“I’m dreaming of our wedding night.” Steve whispered before pulling away with a low chuckle at your wheeze.

“There will be no wedding night!” You pounded two of your fists against his chest. Futilely.

Steve regarded you with a look one may give to a small kitten trying to appear intimidating toward a wolf fifty times its size.

“I’ll make you a deal, Princess,” he tucked both thumbs beneath the hem of your blouse, his touch nearly scorching against your skin. 

“On our wedding night, if I touch your sweet pussy and it’s dry, I’ll let you pick a bedroom for your own. So you can live in solitude, unbothered by my presence.” He sounded sincere, like it was a business deal he was really willing to propose.

Then his hips were pressing against yours, bulge in his pants prominent as he rocked it into you. Steve’s eyes flashed a dark gleam; his sensual lips parting enough to reveal a row of sharp teeth ready to take a hefty bite.

“But if I find your cunt leaking, as I know it is now-” his deep growl resonated straight to your clit.

“I’ll take a pound of flesh. And I’ll be taking you over and over and over again, until you lose your voice from screaming my name.” 

You clutched at his shirt where your hands rested on his chest. You wanted to be able to shove him away, to punch away the beam of smug victory off Steve’s face. Reasonably, you knew you couldn’t do that without serious repercussions happening. 

You were also too busy with the inner battle, fighting some fucked up, primal need to have Steve do to you exactly what he threatened. 

The bastard was unfortunately right, you were soaked. Something you’d never admit to him.

Even if he pushed his big hand up your skirt and dipped his fingers straight into your dripping cunt, you’d deny it to his face. You’d deny it to yourself. Forever. 

Thankfully, Rogers didn’t push further. He seemed satisfied with his stupid bet and that you didn’t fight back (even if you kept your mouth closed in fear of releasing a whimper). Steve let go of you, only lifting one hand to cup your chin.

“Now be good, Princess,” he commanded. “I don’t have time to deal with hysterical wedding planners.”

You grimaced - eyebrows drawing in a frown, nose scrunching up. You weren’t interested in dealing with wedding planning either, but you were aware Steve considered the topic closed. If you reopened it, he might do more than just bend you into obedience in front of a stranger.

“Then why did you come here?” You asked instead.

“I came for my distressed fiancée,” Steve’s grin was cheeky as he used his grip on your chin to slightly shake your head.

He squeezed a tad tighter and when your lips puckered he pecked them. 

“You’ll get a big girl kiss when you start acting like one,” he added at your indignant glare. 

Then released you and simply turned around to leave. You cursed him and called him names in your head. You prayed that one day you’ll get reckless enough to throw something at him, consequences be damned. For now, you still liked to be alive. 

[shadowmaat]

Thanks for the Lift

Corrie Week, Day 5: Fix-It (major character death, but it's only Palpatine)

-

Fox heard the noise from his office. The grinding screech of tortured metal was accompanied by a vibration that knocked over a stack of datapads on his desk. He knew, instinctively, what had happened and was already out the door before the first shouts.

The Corrie's lift was a death trap and everyone knew it. It groaned and rattled even at the best of times, but it was the easiest way to get to the Guard sector. Even so, most chose to take the stairs or come around from the outside of the building unless they were in a hurry.

There was already a small crowd gathered around the lift doors. They were still closed, but a huge gash had sheared through the reinforced metal and smoke was leaking through it.

"Don't just stand there!" Fox snapped at the gawkers. "Get those doors open! There could be an injured trooper in there!"

It was a lie and they all knew it; if anyone had been onboard there was little chance they'd survived. That didn't mean they couldn't hope and try.

His sibs jumped into action, two of them running for the heavy equipment locker while the rest gathered to try and open the doors through brute force.

Rattle stood nearby, swaying on her feet. Her armor rattled worse than usual.

"Rattle, you okay?" Fox walked into her line of sight. Her helmet was off, dropped to the floor beside her, and her eyes didn't seem to track him.

"Lieutenant Rattle! Report!"

She shuddered, snapping to attention and firing off a salute on sheer muscle memory.

"Sir!" She fixed her eyes on him. "I was waiting for the lift! I heard..." Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, her eyes wide and shining. "I heard a scream," she whispered, voice squeaking.

Fuck. Fox pulled his helmet off and looked her in the eye.

"It's alright, Rattle." He kept his voice soft as he reached out, cupping the back of her neck. She twitched, but didn't look away.

"There's nothing you could have done. The important thing is that you're safe, yeah?"

"I... I don't..."

"I do know," Fox assured her, briefly pressing his forehead against hers. "Now, go check in with Nudge. Tell him what happened and make sure he's ready for whatever we find."

"I... yeah."

The strength seemed to come back to her. "Yessir," she said, nodding acknowledgement of the order. "I'll do that!"

She fast-marched down the hall toward the infirmary, so Fox turned his attention to the current disaster.

How many repair requests had he sent about this damn lift? Always rejected. Always ignored. He'd even taken the chance of mentioning it to the Chancellor once, only to be given a patronizing excuse about the "war budget" and "money goes where it's needed most." Probably right into the coffers of the warmongering Senators.

And now someone was dead because of it.

Fox channeled his rage into helping. The doors had been knocked off their tracks and wouldn't budge more than an inch or two, but Nubs and Burke soon returned with the hydraulic rescue tool and they were able to pry open the broken doors.

Helmet-mounted floodlights revealed more of the carnage. Dangling wires sparked and flakes of metal glittered. The permacrete interior of the shaft was scored and crumbling in places. The only thing missing, however, was the car that had fallen.

"Did it... did it crash right through the floor?" Burke asked.

This was supposed to be the bottom level in this part of the building. There shouldn't be any more down to go. And yet the hole where the bottom of the shaft should have been swallowed up their lights.

"No sign of floor for it to crash through," Fox observed, which was irritating. He was supposed to know the layout of the entire Senate, dammit. He'd downloaded all the schematics, old and new, so he could be sure no one could break in through hidden passages. And yet here was a hidden passage right in their Storms-damned territory.

After a brief but intense discussion, climbing gear was retrieved from storage and Fox led a team down into the unexplored depths below them.

The shaft continued down a long way. Long enough that he was getting concerned about running out of rope before their lights finally reflected off the remains of the damaged lift.

Recovery began. Equipment was hauled down to them and the broken remains were photographed, catalogued, and hauled back up out of the way. Spur and his forensics team were being meticulous about everything. Not that anything would come of it, of course. No one would care about the death of a single trooper, even one who'd been the victim of faulty equipment.

Fox oversaw it all, as was his duty, and was first into the destroyed car once Spur declared the scene stable.

There wasn't any way to identify the remains. Whoever it was hadn't even been in armor. Fox said a few words while Spur collected samples and sent them up for analysis.

"Uh... sir?"

Burke's voice was strained over the comm.

"I think... I think you'll want to see this, sir."

Fox couldn't get a ping on Burke's location, but a gap in the doors showed that he'd likely gone exploring whatever space was at the true bottom of the shaft.

"It better not be more dead bodies."

"Uh..."

The hesitation was ominous.

Fox let Spur know where he was going and wriggled through the broken doorway into a large open space.

There was lighting down here. Good lighting. Fox almost wished it wasn't.

There were tanks with... things floating in them. It looked like something out of a scene from one of those damned horror flicks Thire loved. Some of the shapes were humanoid and gave him bad flashbacks to Kamino. Others were more confusing. One contained the embalmed head of a muun, displayed like a trophy.

"This looks like weird shit, Burke," Fox said.

"Sorry, sir," Burke replied.

Fox hated weird shit. And it was just his luck that Coruscant seemed to be Weird Shit Central.

That's when he noticed the transplas box in front of the head. The transplas box that contained contained a metal cylinder with an ignition switch.

"Garbage detail for a month, Burke."

When his attempt to contact Thire failed, he headed back to the shaft, not as surprised as he should have been that as soon as he squeezed through the doors he had a signal again.

"Thire, we've got a problem," he said, switching to private comm.

"That's a fucking understatement. They're gonna pin this on us, you know."

Fox frowned. "What? How the hell were we supposed to know about a secret lab that wasn't on any of the schematics?"

"Secret lab? I'm talking about Chancellor Pastepatine. You know, the body in the lift?"

Fox closed his eyes and counted to ten. It didn't help.

"So we have a dead Chancellor who should never have been on that lift, a secret nightmare lab at the bottom of that lift, and some kind of Jedi shit, based on the lightsaber I just found?

Thire swore, long and hard.

"That's it," Fox said. "I'm calling the Jedi."

"You're calling the Jedi?" Thire repeated.

"This isn't just weird shit, it's weird Jedi shit and I'm going to dump the whole thing in their laps and go on holiday somewhere on the Outer Rim."

Thire scoffed. "Good luck with that. Be sure to send a holocard."

-

Fox didn't get his vacation, of course. But he and the Guard were absolved in the death of the Chancellor; all the repair requests he'd submitted helped prove that.

The Jedi swarmed the lab, and each secret they uncovered seemed to be more horrible than the last. High General Windu himself was put in charge of the media circus regarding the death of the Chancellor, although a lot of important details were left out of the things he had to say.

Like the fact that the Chancellor was a Sith. And that he'd been playing both sides of the war. And that the clones were an unwitting part of his grand conspiracy to seize power.

Contrary to popular belief, Fox didn't hate the Jedi, he'd just never seen much use in them. Until now. Now he was very, very grateful that they were on his side. Maybe he'd even let that Orve kid join the Guard, since it seemed the war was going to be winding down soon.

Maybe just a little bit of weird shit, once in a while, could be a good thing after all.

[will80sbyers]

STRANGER THINGS 5 PRODUCTION MASTERPOST

part 002:

February 7 / 2024

The Stranger Things channel on ig posts pictures at the Hawkins memorial hospital : 1 / 2 / 3

February 9 / 2024

A video from the actress that plays Vickie in st5

Bts pictures of Vickie

Bts picture of Robin at the hospital inside room 110, Vickie has scenes at the hospital too

February 15 / 2024

It seems there are some scenes inside a barn at the farm (Robin, Mike and Will are there) / 2

FIRST LOOK AT WILL IN COSTUME !!!!!!!!!! and Robin my beloved + Mike is also there (Finn is taking the picture)

February 16 / 2024

BTS pics of Ross weeks 5-6 - FIRST LOOK AT NANCY!! lovers lake picture, El with the radio station outfit filming some action scene where Hopper's bracelet breaks, a home made tank for El to use with her powers? a drawing of a black shape/arrow?

February 17 / 2024

Bts pics of the vines inside Hawkins lab

Erica and Joyce are filming together

February 19 / 2024

FIRST LOOK AT HOPPER'S BEARD?

February 20 / 2024

It seems they are filming something that involves Castle Byers: 1 / 2

February 22 / 2024

New bts pictures from the radio station and the woods, with a stunt rehearsal of someone being thrown away / 2 / 3

Bts: scene with RED light where maybe Will is involved? / 2

Bts of the vines (video etc): 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

February 28 / 2024

The Stranger Things channel on ig posts this thing on how to make a remote radio head RRH

Some ideas on what it could mean / 2

Steve & Jonathan are involved

March 1 / 2024

New bts pics from Ross of Weeks 7-8 - FIRST LOOK AT LUCAS AND MAX ON SET!!! It seems the date could be the 12 of november 1987 (or 2 of november 1989… it's not clear, both are a Thursday) A picture of Castle Byers in the UD etc

FIRST VIDEO OF MAX AND LUCAS ON SET BTS

March 4 / 2024

Pictures of the Wheeler's home posted by the ST channel on ig… there will be a scene at the Wheelers where they brainstorm stuff about Vecna? or have breakfast/ a meal together?…and someone is eating doritos? (Mike?): 1 / 2 / 3

March 8 / 2024

Mr. Clarke is back on set? the actor posted this

March 13 / 2024

New bts picture of them filming a scene in ep. 4 (the date of filming in the lower right angle of the picture seems to be around feb. 10-13 ) initially I thought it could be a rink o mania vision but I now think it's in Mike's basement: 1 / 2 / 3

VIDEO OF MILLIE (EL) on set making a coffee dressed as El, she has the same costume of the radio station scenes and blood on her nose, indicating an action scene

March 15 / 2024

Ross posts new pictures of weeks 9-10, FIRST LOOK AT HOPPER! + random background details

Picture of the kids in the Party hands posted by Ross 😭❤️❤️❤️

The full picture of Hopper

March 21 / 2024

New pictures from the set they seem to be shooting scenes with the military

March 22 / 2024

Ross posts the FIRST LOOK AT WILL BYERS!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SON💞 ( in one of the pictures he seems to be inside the radio station bunker because of a suitcase being there and also radio equipment around, the other picture is at Castle Byers with a new actor playing Young Will so it could be a flashback or a vision or something like that!! ) Jonathan is in that scene too

March 27 / 2024

They start filming at a mansion that's situated at the Smoke and Rise country club in Atlanta. Eleven was there and has a scene screaming so there's some action going on, Will was also seen there later on and he looks like he has make up on like he's experiencing the effect of possessions or not feeling well. Nancy was seen there dressed with something that resembles a candy stripers costume of a volunteer nurse, Steve's car was parked outside with the radio station van and there's an antenna over Steve's car... (my theory now is that in the pre vis something makes the antenna go down into the car for the pressure, like something hitting the car from outside that breaks it)

Still at the mansion we have two stand-in actors that have been seen, one of them seems to be called Derek and he could be either a new character or using a fake name (he kinda looks like Jonathan) and there's also this audition for a kid called Derek...

Pictures of the mansion and the decorations, a dragon, butterflies etc... 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

A look of the entire house, old pictures from Google street

April 2 / 2024

My speculation from the video of the wardrobe of s5, Max could be wearing this jacket at some point during the season

April 3 / 2024

There's the neighbourhood watch at Hawkins

April 4 / 2024

Pictures from the Instagram channel, Karen is having a bubble bath, more flashbacks from the rainbow room and Hawkins massacre and something is being filmed inside the Wheeler's house

April 6 / 2024

Eddie's actor says he knows if Eddie is coming back but he's not gonna say it...

April 7 / 2024

Not sure about this but it could be a new decoration around the mansion

April 9 / 2024

Some new pictures from the filming at the mansion and it seems Joyce and Hopper are there in that scene too, parked outside... There's also a video and the lights make it look like maybe the police is involved!

Millie posted a new old picture of her in character with the vines of the upside down in the background

to be continued...

part 001 / part 003