#fun fact there's morse on the walls

[tarn-ation]

Okay so Tumblr did something weird to my drawing so I deleted the last post and reposted it so sorry about that.

Anyway drew some more of prowl plus some of tarantulas

[randomchaosyay]

Shoto Todoroki - Morse Code

Inspired by this post by @ouch-thats-harsh

A/n: Inspiration strikes! Im running on two hours of sleep!

Warnings: None :D

—————————————————

Sho always tapped his fingers against his desk. You thought nothing of it, chalking it up to a nervous habit or something he did out of boredom. But recently, you had decided to learn morse code. It was a random urge really, you weren’t quite sure where it came from, but you did it, learning little by little in the little free time you had over the past few weeks.

You were mostly always swamped with homework and doing hero work via your provisional hero license. The other free time you had, you usually spent with your boyfriend Shoto, cuddling as he caught you up to speed with what you’ve missed in class due to being out heroing, as well as talking about your new favorite theories. His current favorite theory was Shinso Hitoshi being Aizawa and Present Mic’s love child.

Currently, you and Sho were in the common room of your dorm, eating breakfast. You were rather excited to tell Sho about mastering morse code, but everytime you tried, you were somehow not so rudely interrupted by one of your classmates talking about something else.

Finally, you were all on your way to class, the loud food induced chatter settling down to quiet yawns and tired grumbles. Your hand was intertwined with your boyfriend’s as you walked to class. Just as you were about to tell him about learning morse code, you figured no one would interrupt you this time. You were wrong. What you could only assume was a caffeine fueled Midoriya was practically bouncing off the walls, asking everyone about any recent modifications to their hero suits and impacts on their quirks. You wondered when the last time was that the poor boy had slept.

Once you and Shoto reached the door, you decided to tap out a quick “I love you” to the back of his hand, before you had to untwine your fingers and separate from each other to get to your seats, which luckily were pretty close.

“I love you too.” Shoto responded out loud mindlessly.

Both of you froze. You just stood there. Looking at each other in complete and utter shock.

“You know morse code??” You both questioned the other at the same time.

After a slight arguement about who was to explain first, Sho told you how he and his sibling use it to trash talk his father and to talk to his siblings when his father tried isolating him, Fuyumi and Natsuo originally came up with it for Touya but never got to use it with him. Giving him a hug for confort, you told him how you’d learned it just recently on a whim. Before you could converse any further, Denki and Jirou called the Aizawa alarm and you all had to get to your seats. There was a small smile on his face as he walked back to his seat, that went unnoticed by you.

As class went on, you heard Shoto’s familiar pattern of tapping, the way he did every class. Except now, you realized, it had a meaning. ‘I’m bored. I wish I could just ditch and go cuddle Y/n’. You had to hold in a gasp at that as your heart melted slightly, everyday Sho had been tapping that out, other varieties of that as well. And you had no idea until today. ‘Sho we can’t just ditch class’, you tapped back. He turned slightly to look at you, a pleasantly surprised smile adorning his handsome features.

‘Yeah but this stuff is easy and cuddling is more fun’. You could almost hear his voice saying it in a matter of fact tone. ‘Not everyone is top of the class like you Sho.” You responded playfully. You two went on talking to each other for the rest of class. Most of it was about random things, like when Sho reiterated how similar Aizawa and Shinso look, with their eyebags and smile and such. You really loved him, every single thing about him.

Aizawa didn’t notice somehow, but that was probably because your taps were quiet since the two of you didn’t sit that far apart. Or maybe you two were just oblivious to his glares, floating off into your own world until he’d given up with a shake of his head. Problem children.

‘I love you’

‘I love you too’

Learning morse code was a pretty good decision huh?

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

I have the Stranger Things: Worlds Turned Upside Down: The Official Behind-the-Scenes Companion book, I got it in 2018, so here are some fun facts from it

In the party’s dnd charts it says Will’s class is “magic-user” 👀👀 and one of his abilities is “true sight” 👀👀

The first scene written and the first scene filmed are both the dnd game at s1 ep1

Mike supposedly has rainbow blinds in his room (as a reference to E.T since Elliot also has rainbow blinds)

When El throws Lucas against a wall, that was Caleb, not a body double. Apparently he was excited to film without a double and asked for it (he was thrown against a mattress). Called said he had so much fun.

During the scene where El sends the van flying, the duffers said than when they first tried it (without filming) it all went as it was supposed to, it flew the right directions. The first time they filmed, tho, the van fell on top of one of their cameras and destroyed it.

Steve is in his last year of high school (as opposed to Nancy, who is in her second, or Jonathan who is in his first)

Steve plays basketball and baseball. He was supposed to be an asshole and die the first season, but Joe Keery came and gave a bit more depth to Steve’s character.

243 people auditioned to play El

Some of El’s powers include biokinesis, teleportation, and psychometry

Hopper fought in Vietnam 

At first the upside down wasn’t supposed to appear on screen at any moment. We would have heard what happened over walkie talkies or radios.

A demodog is just a teen demogorgon (I think this was explained at the show, but I have seen people say they are different creatures)

Jonathan does cycling, is in the school newspaper, and the photography club

Caleb is very good crying on command

Mike’s bike is the newest because his family has the most money, Dustin begun painting his bike but hasn’t finished it yet, and Lucas has a fluorescent saddle

At first they weren’t allowed to use ghostbusters costumes but they talked to Ivan Reitman and eventually got green light 

Dart was supposed to appear in the first season but they didn’t have enough time

The upside down was originally called the underworld 

Nancy and Jonathan (their relationship) are inspired by David and Jennifer from WarGames (1983). Also by Willie Scott and doctor Jones from Indiana Jones

Bob was supposed to die on ep 4 instead of ep 8

For the scene with Will and Morse code (when he’s tied to a chair) the duffers just told Noah to watch a YouTube video on Morse code the day before 

Talking about Noah, after being possessed and convulsing to the point everyone was amazed with his acting, the moment they stop filming he just gets up and asks for a cup of tea like nothing happened

For the upside down spores they actually used dandelions 

Hopper is repeatedly described as a cowboy lmao

In s1 when the boys dress El up in a wig and a dress and Mike does her makeup, they are dressing her up in their vision of what a girl is

Finn said than it was only halfway through the second episode than Mike realized than El is a real girl, a real person, and not E.T.

The duffers were inspired by the breakfast club for the making of Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve’s characters!!

Nancy played volleyball, was in the cheerleader team (?!?!?!), was in the French club, volunteered at church and did social volunteering, and did a writing workshop

Barb played softball, the clarinet, was part of the Mathematical Olympiads, volunteered at the library, and was a babysitter.

[some-little-infamy]

Haunted

(Read on AO3)

Steve hates the silence. He never used to - the silence used to mean that his parents weren’t screaming at each other, or at him. It meant that he wasn’t putting on some schmoozy performance to win over the heart of another girl, or being overly-boisterous with the other guys on the team. Silence used to be Steve’s reprieve, a sign that he could relax, a thing to bask in.

Now the silence is a lack of Eddie’s music. It’s the absence of Max’s laughter and of Dustin’s ramblings about scientific things Steve’ll never be able to wrap his head around. It’s a lack of Nancy’s voice reciting flash cards and Robin’s quiet confessions of her crushes and gossip.

Silence means he’s alone. It’s his choice - he can have almost all of those things back if he wants… but the one that he wants the most is the one that he’s lost forever, and he can’t bring himself to embrace what remains when it only reminds him of what’s missing.

Steve can’t even listen to the radio any more. Every song reminds him of Eddie - it’s either a band Eddie told him he should listen to, or one he made fun of Steve for unapologetically loving.

It hurts. It hurts so much more than he ever thought it could. Eddie was barely his friend… they hardly knew each other. Maybe it was the trauma bonding, but it didn’t take long at all for Eddie to become a fixture that Steve wanted by his side.

Needed by his side.

It took Eddie even less time to sacrifice himself and leave Steve behind.

He knows he shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t take it personally. Steve was probably the last thing on Eddie’s mind when he decided to stay behind and buy them the time they so desperately needed… and that only makes Steve feel worse, somehow.

There’s no winning, so Steve chooses to lose.

He loses himself. He loses the things he still has, the things he still wants but can’t bring himself to keep. He doesn’t feel like he deserves anything in his life that may bring him happiness. Not now, at least, and maybe not ever.

There are some things - some people - he can’t seen to just lose. People who aren’t easily shaken, so he pushes them away. He forces them away, locking himself behind doors and walls until their knocking grows quieter and less frequent, before stopping entirely.

And when Steve thinks he's finally, blissfully alone, he realizes that he isn’t.

Steve doesn’t think much of it the first couple of times. A flickering light here and there just feels right. He’s a ghost of himself, haunting his own home, wandering the empty rooms without purpose. It takes him longer than he’s proud of to realize that it follows him from room to room, moving from a table lamp to a ceiling light to the hallway light plugged into the wall by the bathroom. It takes him even longer to notice the pattern.

The lights aren’t flickering, they’re blinking, shifting on and off in the same repetition. It’s a pattern. A fucking pattern.

He does the math in his head - he has five more days until his parents come home. They’ve been gone for five already - ten is the sweet spot of days they’ll spend away consecutively. After that they come home to play house, keeping up appearances just enough that no one questions the fact that they leave their teenager home alone more often than not.

Steve leaves his house for the first time in days to go to the library and check out a book on morse code, then stops to get enough bread, peanut butter, and jelly to last him a week before going back home. He knows he could - should - ask Dustin for help. Hell, he knows Robin, Nancy, or any one of those kids would be willing to come over and pitch in. But he can’t. Not until… just not yet.

Steve turns off every light in the house and begins to walk. He moves slowly, not sure if he should be feeling for some sort of energy or if he should be waiting for it to find him.

He’s in the kitchen when one of the ceiling fan lights flickers on then off rapidly. Then again. And then two more times.

Then a pause. It isn’t long, but it’s long enough for Steve to grab the little notebook out of his pocket and a pen. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to realize he’d be in the dark and unable to see the page, so the next time the light flickers he uses the short burst of light to jot down the marks.

.... / . / .-.. / .-.. / ---

Steve starts writing the first four dots, then the second separate one, before realizing it’s repeating again. Steve feels a rush of adrenaline that's a little too close to hope for his comfort as he turns all the lights in the room back on and goes to the book.

hello

Steve laughs. Hello?

“Hello right back at’cha,” Steve says out loud.

He's in the middle of deciding whether or not he should try to ask a question when the lights, which are currently on, begin to flicker off in a new pattern.

..-. / .. / -. / .- / .-.. / .-.. / -.--

finally

Steve huffs out an indigent breath. “Finally? Half the town’s in shambles, how am I supposed to know to pay attention to the shitty light bulbs?!”

There’s no response, and Steve feels an immediate surge of panic tighten his chest and quicken his heartbeat.

“Are you there?” Steve hates the pitch up in his voice, the way he can’t keep the tremor out of it. “Eddie?”

The name is barely a whisper because Steve doesn’t want to jinx it. Of course he wants it to be Eddie. He can’t imagine who - or what - else it could be. Up until now he could just assume, but now he’s said it out loud. Now, he’s opened up the possibility of finding out he’s wrong and having all his hopes dashed with one flicker of light.

.... / . / .-. / .

here

Steve remains silent, tense, waiting. Hoping. Praying. And then--

. / -.. / -.. / .. / .

eddie

Eddie. It’s him, it’s really him.

“Holy shit.”

[kitashinsukehoney]

Mammon. The name of the demon that became the first demon to make a pact with you. The demon that shows greed. He only cares about money....until you came along.

He may be the demon of greed....but he shows his jealousy when you're enjoying most of your times with his brothers especially Lucifer. Lucifer is older and stronger than him therefore he couldn't do anything about the eldest. Well, things have change now. If he wants you, he will make sure that you are his.

One day, he invited you to his room after dinner. You didn't think much since you're quite close with Mammon. You wore your lingerie pajamas, and went out to meet him. That's when you bumped into Satan who just arrived home. "Oh, Satan! It's so late yet you still have energy to study..", you tell him. Satan smiled and replied to your complimentary, "Well, I'm not studying but I'm searching for literatures that talked about cats. Where you're going after this?", he asked you.

"Mammon told me to meet him at his room. I guess he would asks me to watch movies with him", you shrugged off. Satan started to have a naughty thoughts, he knew about Mammon being jealous. Maybe it would be fun if he interrupted a bit. Seeing you wearing the lingerie....is something that he could say as a blue moon.

"Oh, Y/N. If you don't mind...can you help me to tell Lucifer about this?", he started to write something on a white sticky note but what's weirder....it is in a morse code language. "Can't you give it to him... yourself?", you asked Satan again. "No... please, help me. Your help will be appreciated... Please~", he begged you. You knew that Satan hates Lucifer...Not hate but probably despise.

You took the sticky note and he thanked you immediately. Before you leave, he kissed your lips as a reward to 'help' him although you were weirded out. You went downstairs to go to Lucifer's room and when you opened the door, you saw Lucifer was focusing on his work. "Luci...I have something to give to you. I hope I'm not bothering you...", you said to him.

He looked at you, up and down and you handed the sticky note to him. "This was given by Satan. He asked me a favor to pass this to you", you said. He took the note, read the morse code and looked at you. "He did gave this to you?", he smugged.

You nodded your head and he smiled. But something about his smile made you wary. He stood up, walked towards you and pinned you to the wall. "Mammon... requested you to come to his room personally?", he said to you. You wondered what did Satan wrote in the note. But the fact Lucifer is towering over you, you felt like you better be with him instead of Mammon.

He put his clothed left hand behind your neck, and pulled you for a kiss. His right hand wrapped around your waist gently. While you two were busy making out, Diavolo barged into the room with Barbatos.

"LUCIFER!", he shouted excitedly but the excitement died after the two of them caught you two making out. You two stopped making out and watched Diavolo that is watching you two. Barbatos looked away, he knew that you and Lucifer have something that seems to be beneficial for himself too.

"Oh...Go-, wait,Demon. Sorry", Diavolo sighed under his breath. He pulled Barbatos out and closed the door. Lucifer was too stunned to speak, take a glance at you yet he continued back. That's when the making out session started to get hotter and spicier. He lifted both of your legs and let you wrapped your legs around his waist but the kiss was unbreakable.

He rubbed his crotch to your cunt and licked your neck sensationally. "Luci~", you moaned loudly until you realised his crotch hardened as if he took a Viagra pill. He walked towards the couch, slowly took off your lingerie and pajamas, and sucked on your tits. He left some hickeys on your skin especially the inner side of your thighs and played with your clit.

suddenly the door cracked open again revealing Mammon.

He was so shocked watching the situation that happened and his expressions changed into madness and jealousy. There's fire ranging inside him that begged him to brush off Lucifer and fuck you so badly infront of him. He walked towards both of you, pushed Lucifer away and smashed his lips onto yours. He bites your lips while his fingers were busy making you wet. Lucifer smirked, knowing this isn't the normal Mammon. He has turned possessive especially for the person that called as Y/N.

Mammon then spread open your legs and take off the towel that wrapped around his torso. He shoved his lightsaber/cock/dick inside you and keep on railing you as if there's no tomorrow. Lucifer on the other side sat on his chair, playing with himself while Mammon was fucking you real bad. "Mammon, slow...slow down", you moaned to him but he just don't care. Mammon kept up with his fast paces and making you squirted and orgasm but he just don't care.

To be honest, Lucifer's voyeurism kink is getting worsen and he enjoyed this view so much. 15 minutes after railing you, Mammon ejaculated inside you and pushed the cum inside you as he hates wasting his handworks. Lucifer then cum onto your tits and gave you a kiss on your forehead.

well...

When you thought Mammon was done, he told Lucifer to do a threesome after that.

[10moonymhrivertam]

A lil Dreamling bodyswap thing I’m directly copy-pasting from my phone notes, hopefully I get back to it someday

Apparently I was taking inspo from a Witcher post I’ve lost XD I’m gonna go look for it

@avelera if you’re interested 💜

~~~

“Sounds like you’re living the dream.” Their lips curl into a conspiratorial smile over their glass. “Still. All bounds of ‘reasonableness’ aside. If you could have anything you wanted. What would it be?”

“Careful. Dressed like sin, shelling out for the good whiskey…a man might think you’re trying to trap him with a question like that.”

“Who, little old me?” They batted their eyes. Hob wondered if perhaps they knew Morse code for ‘I am absolutely trapping you’. “I’m just having a bit of fun. Come on, what could it hurt?”

Hob frowned at them. “Are you one of the Fair Folk?” He blurted.

They snorted, and their coy smile twisted downward into something just short of a sneer. “The faeries dipped out half a millennium ago.” Hob felt a little dizzy, his brain buffering through the realization that it was within his lifetime. As the matter-of-fact tone penetrated past the haze, he found himself rewarding the frankness with honesty.

“I’d like to know what’s going on in my best friend’s head once in a while.” STHe hesitated, but…in for a penny. “[Dissonance of glad to be back but definitely traumatized?]”ST

“A ‘walk a mile in their shoes’ sort of thing?”

Hob snorted. “Not sure I have enough style in me for his shoes.”

“You never know.” They shrugged sinuously. They set down their glass and stretched, full-bodied. It was the dangerously toothy yawn that really made it cat-like. “I really must be off.” They stood, pausing beside his seat. “Good to meet you, darling.” They pressed a kiss to his temple. A sudden shiver ripped down his spine.

“Good to meet you, too,” he said absently

*

For five centuries, Hob always remembered when he dreamed, even if their details slipped away like water come morning. In his sixth century, it was more questionable. He suspected he still dreamed, but he never woke up with anything on his mind, unless it was old memories returned to haunt him. He was just getting used to having the full experience back, which is what made the blankness he was waking up from so strange. He was so preoccupied with it, staring into the middle distance, that it took him at least three minutes to register the voice that had groaned when he’d sat up; the fine bedding beneath the hands propping him up; the wall he was staring in the direction of.

[And then he wanders around and eventually runs into Matthre and Lucienne. Matthre recognizes him as not-Dream on a close examination]

“That’s not ideal.” He’d hoped speaking would calm him down a little, but - he knew that voice. That fucker. They’d never actually denied being Fae, had they? Hoping he was wrong, he looked around for a mirror. He felt himself call it, but it appeared like in a dream - like he’d simply overlooked it before. The face staring back at him was familiar in all the wrong ways, save the eyes. Instead of the icy blue he’d expected, there were voids with twin stars. As bizarre as it seemed, it - kind of fit, actually. Hob raised a hand to his face reflexively, resting under his eye. It was strange to see Dream’s figure doing it.

“Right. Okay. Right.” Wind rattled at the doors to the balcony - balcony? Of course Dream had a balcony. “Maybe if I figure out where we are?” He mumbled to himself, making for the door. For all that Dream seemed more amenable to sharing personal information now (a name, even!), they were still used to Hob doing all the talking, and they hadn’t met much yet despite agreeing to keep a more friendly schedule. He hoped he was in or near London, but there was a pit in his stomach that doubted it. It grew as he stepped into the hall and realized just how massive Dream’s home must be.

He picked a direction and set off. Whatever storm lay outside seemed to be growing, which didn’t help his sense of dread in the slightest. As he kept walking, it seemed like a lecture hall’s worth of chatter was growing louder without growing any closer. Eventually, he came to hear snippets of it: “I have to remember to change that lightbulb”; “she reminds me of my niece”; “Did someone break in? …I really need to fold those clothes”; “Did I leave the stove on?” It left him distracted enough that he didn’t take in many details. The chatter and the storm and the knowledge that this was absolutely his fault swirled around him until he broke free to an open area. After looking around, he realized it was a throne room. Because of course it was. Suddenly, a number of things about Dream’s attitude and conduct made sense, but now he had absolutely no idea where he was.

“Hey, have we got another mission or something? That’s a hell of a gale.” He turned around, his eyes searching upward for the voice without him deciding to do so, landing on a raven flapping towards him from the presumably-front door. Before Hob decided what to say, the raven suddenly winged back, staring hard at him. He settled on the floor halfway down the room. “You aren’t the boss,” he said warily.

“No,” he confirmed. “I know him,” he added, hoping to head off the worst of any panic or interrogation. “But, um…yeah. I’m not Dream.”

“Oh, don’t do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Hearing him say ‘um’ is freaky.”

He cast his mind back over old meetings, recalling how deliberately Dream spoke on the rare occasions that he did, even in 1689, when he’d done most of the talking. “Yeah, no, that’s fair.” He paused, contemplating what to say next. “This is my fault. I think I accidentally made a deal. Anyone I can talk to about that? Besides, y’know, Dream?”

“…yeah, yeah there might be someone.” He took to the air again, and Hob followed in his wake. The chatter and the storm pressed at the edges of his brain, but having someone to focus on helped. He paused as they crossed the threshold to a library. He was sure he’d been in here before, once or twice, and yet…he didn’t remember a damn thing about it.

*****

• Lucienne &/or Matthew call Death

• Death calls a family meeting

• “Alright. I’m hoping one of us did this, because if it was someone else, this becomes much more serious immediately. I have two prime suspects. Given that Delirium isn’t pointing and laughing, Desire needs to start talking”

“What, i didn’t do anything to Dream” and/or similar until “wait YOURE hob gadling?”/“someone tell me what Hob gadling looks like”/“where does Hob gadling live” and Desire realizes they fucked up more than intended and they are simultaneously delighted and terrified

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Young Justice AU fun fact part 2/???

How clean are their bedrooms plus what's it like?

Everyone's living situations are here. Tim Drake/Robin: Tim tries to keep his room mostly clean, just because Alfred will clean up doesn’t mean he should make his room look like a fallout zone. There are sometimes energy drink cans on his desk. He keeps some of his gadgets under his bed. Under that bed is a distraction of socks and old clothes. Nobody will ever find out his secret identity.

Cassandra Cain-Wayne/Batgirl: Cass's room in Babs' apartment is messy. There is a stack of books on her bedside table, there are clothes around the place and the only thing hung up is her Batgirl costume. If you have a sleepover with this girl, the room will not be the same as it was before.

Cassie Sandsmark/Wonder Girl: Cassie has a bunch of superhero merchandise, mainly Wonder Woman and Flash stuff. Her study desk has some cups on it, her mom keeps asking her to bring out her stuff but it doesn’t always work. She has a photo of her and her mom framed. They were both smiling at a museum exhibit.

Supergirl/Kara Zor El/Kara Danvers: Kara's room is mostly neat, but not pristine, she has a few small trinkets, kind of as reminders that she's on Earth. Kara keeps two diaries. One of them she uses for “Earth stuff.” The second one she’s copied in a lot of things from Kryptonian culture. Because a part of her is scared of forgetting. She also has a newspaper of her first public appearance blue tacked on her wall. It makes her feel good.

Aya/Aya: Aya likes keeping a place orderly and neat. Her quarters were personally modified with a recharge station to act as a ‘bed.’ Aya has a workbench that she uses to draft a certain project of hers. She also has a Tamagotchi. She named it Kil-0-wog.

Aqualad/Kaldur'ahm: While he doesn’t have a real residence on the surface world, Kaldur will keep his makeshift bedrooms neat and comfortable. Part of this is his military service, the other part is not wanting to leave his teammates to clean up for him.

Kid Flash/Wally West: Wally is a bit of a collector/hoarder. He has a lot of action figures, textbooks on the floor, the bed isn’t always made, he has a Flash Hat hanging on his wardrobe door. He also has posters. Some science/geek stuff. Like Kara, he kept a newspaper copy of his public appearances.

Miss Martian/M'Gann M'orzz/Megan Morse: This girl loves her trinkets. She has an I ♥️ Happy Harbor banner, she has photos, cute merchandise, Hello Megan stuff, and a full length mirror so she can twirl around in new clothes. The room is almost a representation of who she projects: Sweet, a little bit overwhelming, but is just trying to be comfortable. Plus: She feels like someone with a diary. Maybe?

Superboy/Conner Kent: Superboy’s room in the base is admittedly pretty bare bones at first, he doesn’t really have much reason to decorate, he has a collection of his Superboy shirts on a chair. The room smells like teenage boy who sweats a lot. There’s also a poster of Superman hung up and a small crater in the wall from where he punched it.

Artemis/Artemis Crock: Artemis room was originally a shared bedroom with Jade, and you could still tell that from the size of the place and the second bed beside Artemis. The Alice in Wonderland poster is still hanging up, along with a bullseye and darts for practice/stress relief. There is also a knife under her bed. Just in case. She hopes she never has to use it.

Who would you want to have a sleepover with most? Let me know, it’ll be funny.

@spoilerqlert

[green-planets]

StEx Appreciation Month Day 15: Red Caboose!

🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌

Face Claim: Ramon Visser (the prettiest caboose fr)

Favourite Song/Scenes: Broadway Wide Smile!!!! Todd Lester put his whole cabussy into that performance!!! Elaborate handshakes with Electra, terrorizing Rusty (shout-out to Michael Eborall's absolutely deranged screaming and laughing), and there are a lot of really good Caboose laugh audios out there but Kapa Kitchen has some of my favorites

Favourite Costumes: His costume is sooooo so so good! There's little variation over the years but I prefer it when the actors can use their natural hair (some of those hair pieces are crusty af). Joburg caboose also has a really cute costume!

Favourite Ships/Friendships: Red Caboose x Greaseball x Electra. Dinah is his best friend, he can and will fight CB over that title! He is genuinely friends with the freight crew as well!! (even though he totally crashed them into that wall on purpose during Freight)

Headcanons: I call him Red because CB is the original trucker caboose to me :) He originally agreed to help Greaseball because Dinah's title as a champion was also at stake if GB ever lost (and because he has fun causing wrecks). He crashed Greaseball on purpose during the final to get back at him for how poorly he was treating Dinah. Electra was just collateral damage

Unpopular Opinion: I don't subscribe to the Murderboose headcanons (though I have joked about it before). Is he freaky and unsettling? Yes. Sadistic? Absolutely. But a killer? Nah.

🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌

Bonus Round part one: CB!

Face Claim: Michael Staniforth

Favourite Song/Scenes: There's Me, his Freight verse (the way he says "Hello!" lives rent free in my brain), CB, ORARTM (I love the way his voice squeaks on the last "Whaddaya say?!")

Favourite Costumes: There's only been the one, but he needs the moustache imo

Favourite Ships/Friendships: CB x Elton (Workshop Electra). Dinah is his best friend!  He's also friends with the freight crew!

Headcanons: His radio beeps always have hidden messages in Morse code. He uses them to communicate with Greaseball and the other Cabeese during races

Unpopular Opinion: The original CB is overall the most well-rounded version of the caboose character!

🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌

Bonus Round part two: Brake Van!

Face Claim: Tom Nihil

Favourite Song/Scenes: Anytime he's acting shifty, rubbing his hands together, etc! I love this little weasel! He's also fun to watch during Pumping Iron

Favourite Costumes: Once again, there's only been one but the two-toned gloves reign supreme!

Favourite Ships/Friendships: Brake Van x Elektra, Brake Van x Carrie. He's the only caboose that's not super close with Dinah. He is friends with Carrie and Brandi. Overall he prefers hanging out with the coaches or Elektra and the components over the freight crew (Krupp and Killerwatt do NOT trust him)

Headcanons: Unlike Red and CB, he has a lot of respect for Slick and her method of crashing trains (and the fact that she has lackeys to do her dirty work). He would definitely consider going into business with her

Unpopular Opinion: He's a fun spin on caboose and having some kind of motivation (even if it's just money) improves the character

🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌🛑❌

[sidleyparkhermit]

Snowflake Challenge #13 (crosspost from DW)

Snowflake Challenge #13: Make a rec list of fanworks.

I almost invariably rec only completed fics, so this time I thought I'd do a rec list of just WIPs. I'm telling you right now, none of these works have been updated more recently than March 2023. I invite you to enjoy them as they are and to leave feedback that is encouraging but not bullying. ;)

1) If Tomorrow Never Comes by @eau1636. Endeavour Morse/Peter Jakes (Endeavour). A time loop story with wonderful characterization in one of my most favorite rare pairs.

He already knew what the paper’s headlines would be, what the answers to the crossword puzzle were, what date would be printed across the top. He unrolled the paper and there it was, irrefutable in black and white. Monday, February 2, 1967. Morse called the station to say he was ill and wouldn’t be in today. Then he walked over, took the bottle down from the shelf, and set to work. At least the scotch had refilled itself overnight. Small mercies. Once darkness fell that evening, Morse walked to the park. He sat on a bench in the freezing night air, looking up at the stars. He would stay awake all night. He wouldn’t go home, he’d stay right here under the open sky. Whatever it was that was happening, it couldn’t get him here.

2) fidelity, undying by @joycecarolnotes Loki/Mobius (Loki TV series). The deeply evocative scene-setting first chapter of an arranged marriage canon-divergence. 

Frigga sighs and strokes his raven hair, perched beside him on the edge of his bed. "While you may not wish to hear it, I believe that your marriage to this Midgardian prince is for the best." Loki scoffs. "Oh do you?" Her own marriage, Frigga says, had been arranged by her father. She did not wish to leave her home, to travel to Asgard and marry the gruff, imposing, one-eyed man who called himself the All-Father. But she peered into her future and saw that she would have two sons, and raise them beside Odin, and that she would love them very much. And so she went. "What of my future," Loki asks, "have you had a look?" Frigga shakes her head. "And would you tell me if you had?" Frigga shakes her head again.

3) i thought you should know, by @odekirk. Howard Hamlin/Chuck McGill (Better Call Saul). The tragedy of Howard and Chuck, of the Hamlins and the McGills, over the decades. Fun fact: odekirk is straight-up the only fic writer who understands these two characters at all.

In the dream, Howard stands on Chuck’s porch and knocks three times on the front door, and tries to call out Chuck’s name. He’s holding something in his arm—one of the lights from the HHM conference room, glowing softly in the dark of night. “Maybe he’s at the grocery store,” Julie says. Yes, of course she’s right. Howard turns around and panics—where is his car? He just parked it right there in front of Chuck’s house. “I don’t have a car,” he laments to Julie. “I don’t know where my car is.” “Maybe it’s inside.” Yes, of course the car is inside. Howard turns around again and the front door is open. He walks in and sees the state of the house. Walls are torn up. Books are scattered all over. Appliances are strewn across the floor, the windows are boarded up, space blankets are hung everywhere. “Where’s your car?” Jimmy asks him. “What did you do?” Howard is frightened. If he can’t find his car, he’ll never be able to drive to the grocery store to get Chuck. He has to talk to Chuck.

originally posted on dreamwidth for the 2024 snowflake challenge prompts. (no, I still don't like dreamwidth, but it's... there.)

[mushtoons]

WDYM NO PHONE GUY HE WAS LITERALLY AFTON WHEN HE WAS MASQUERADING AS STEVE THE CAREER COUNSELOR /LH

The tail end of the call when he was giving the rundown was playing over the first few shots of Mike in the pizzeria sczjfDuaoyclj

Also!! The very intro was the previous guard I thought?? He had a completely different face shape + was clean shaven

I also don't remember a scientific possession explanation beyond the bodies being inside the animatronic?? There was 0 mention of remnant or whatever the soul juice metal is called which /was/ the scientific explanation in fnaf canon I thought...

Also also I thought there were tons of refeences beyond the cameos.. the whole dream theory book felt like a gentle poke at matpat and there were tons of small easter eggs in the set, but I caught most of those in the security office. (Bonnie plush, It's Me after the first ghost appearance in Mike's dream written on the mirror, in game celebrate poster on the wall, someone else did in fact catch the desk fan) (others included the guy who got mauled by the cupcake having a midnight motorist t shirt, Chica obviously being the one to go to the kitchen, golden freddy kid was the only ghost in a striped shirt, I think the lightbulb flickering when Abby was walking through the welcome arch was Morse?? Way too uniform lengths there). I will admit I am very sad no one booped Freddy's nose :(

I also wouldn't be surprised if they're saving more characters for potential sequels.. I did miss the puppet and I dont think I caught any of the paper pals anywhere :((

And so sorry you didn't say you were upset with the creative liberties!!! It's just what I've seen other people upset over (most often making Vanessa an Afton) and so they were my first guess which is consequently why I was confused. For no reason I see now lmao. Assumed wrong ><

NOPE NOT OUR PHONE GUY WE DONT CLAIM /lh /silly ITS NOT THE SAME AND U KNOW IT

oh damn was it? we didn't notice, our bad if it was someone else, we assumed it was mike cuz it lined up i mean why else would he be there in that exact moment, but we're too lazy to look it up to see so we're gonna take ur word--

and yeah vanessa was explaining it during the patch up scene we're pretty sure cant remember the exact place she went off on that tangent tho cuz tbh nearing the end we were losing interest djfjfj

and yeah! most of those we caught, except the morse code one didnt know that one but we'd have loved more yknow? we were really hoping for like shadow bonnie or anything in the background something, anything fun

and we're pretty sure there's gonna be a sequel, the end credits (after the living tombstone 💕) was literally the music box playing and we seen the code at the end was binary and translated into come find me so we're like 98% positive there's gonna be a sequel

and nah we didn't mind that, was kinda surprised but also not really yknow like for the movie plot it made sense

[cherrygorilla]

The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 1)

Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra - 5:05

Is this a valid amount to have written of this story since I last posted? Probably not. But has dental school been kicking my ass for the past three months? Absolutely. I promise I’m trying my best to be more consistent with my uploads though - I just hope you haven’t forgotten about this story in the mean time! It’s too important to me to give up on now haha. 

Also, if you feel as though this first chapter is vaguely reminiscent of the prologue...that’s intentional...trust me.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Monday - October 8th, 1984

Eyes, the colour of the caramel on those apples from the county fair, gingerly cracked open as early morning sunlight seeped through cheap, cotton curtains. The rustling of amber leaves skittering across the tarmac outside made him stir further. And as a chilly, autumn breeze whipped around the loose drainpipe, rattling the plastic against the wall behind his head, Royce resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be pulled back into dreamland with a heavy sigh and a long stretch. 

Shuffling up his mattress, he grabbed his journal from its spot on his bedside table and blindly felt around for a pen. A yawn interrupted his train of thought before it had even left the station though, and he had to rub the sleep from his eyes before they would focus on the empty page he'd opened the notebook to. Pen uncapped, and mind still hazy from his reluctant rousing, Royce felt his attention begin to wander as the nib of his biro met paper. He scrawled out the date, and managed a couple of lines about what his dreams had entailed, but as soon as he started thinking back to the prior day, his mind ran away with him too quickly for his pen to keep up. 

He and Bentley had spent most of it at Vivien's house, where she'd finally fulfilled her promise of teaching Royce (and, once he found out about it, Bentley too) morse code. She dug out some of her dad's old books from the garage that went along with his amateur radio set and pinned one of the charts to her bedroom wall. After a few quick lessons, the trio were tapping out phrases to each other through the door for hours on end, just about driving the poor girl's mother insane. In a bid to earn some peace and quiet, she took to the garage herself, and came back later with a set of old walkie talkies she handed over to the children before banishing them to the backyard. Codenames were created, make believe spy storylines were played out and laughter was shared until the sun sunk behind the fence that separated Vivien's yard from the dense forest beyond, signalling for Royce and Bentley to head back home. 

Glancing down to his backpack, which had been slung at the foot of his bed, Royce couldn't take his eyes off the brick-like hand radio, sticking out from between the shabby library books and old candy bar wrappers. He still couldn't believe Vivien and her mom had let him and Bentley keep them. But after all the fun they'd had with them yesterday, he wasn't about to turn down the offer - especially after Vivien had suggested using them in place of the landline the Murphys had had to disconnect a few months back due to a faulty connection and the fact that they'd rather have running water than a working telephone. He didn't exactly know what they'd have to talk about, since they usually spent as much time together every day as they could manage, but there was no way he could have said "no" to her when she'd been smiling at him like she had. The second those dimples make an appearance his brain turns to mush, and his palms get so slick with sweat they practically need their own 'caution' sign. Even just thinking about her draws a smile of his own to his lips, and he can feel this sweet warmth unfurling in his chest that-

A snatched breath and rustling of duvet covers ripped Royce away from his thoughts as Bentley sat bolt upright in his bed. Chest heaving and choice locks of golden hair plastered to his forehead, the boy scanned the room with wide, blue eyes until recognition replaced the bewildered fear behind them. With his brain finally catching up to what his eyes were telling him to be true, Bentley let out a long, slow breath as he realised where he was - or, more importantly, where he wasn’t. Sluggishly pulling the floppy, balding stuffed dog he slept with every night to his chest, he eased himself back down against his pillow, inhaling the musty, yet comforting smell of old socks and sweet popcorn as he tried to will his heart to stop racing. 

"...You okay, Ben?" 

Jumping at the sound of another voice, Bentley's head whipped to face his brother, bearing another look of bewildered terror. But when his eyes met those of the older boy, brimming with familial concern, relief washed over him. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he quietly promised. "Just a bad dream, that's all." 

Quickly averting his gaze and snuggling back underneath his moth-eaten comforter, Bentley prayed that the matter could be dropped - just wanting to push the nightmare to the back of his mind so that he could catch a few more zs. But it appeared as though the abrupt wakeup call had bothered Royce just as much as it had him.

"How bad?" he asked, setting his pen down and closing his journal.

"...I don't know. It was just a dream, it's not a big deal," Bentley mumbled into the grubby fur of his comfort toy. 

"It looked like a pretty big deal to me, Ben."

"Well it wasn't, okay?" Bentley snapped with a sleepy sigh. "It was a stupid dream. Why are you even up this early anyway?"

Ignoring the pre-teen's grumpy comments, knowing he was only being defensive because there was more to the story than he was letting on, Royce swung his legs over the edge of his mattress and fully turned to face his younger brother. "It… It wasn't about Dad, was it?"

"What?" Bentley spluttered. "No!"

"-Because it's fine if it was; I still get them too. I just thought that since you hadn't had one for a while you were maybe in a better-"

"It wasn't about Dad, okay?" Bentley insisted with a frustrated sigh, still furiously avoiding his brother's gaze. "It wasn't about anything. I was just running down the street. I tripped over on the sidewalk and woke up before I could hit the ground. That's it."

Royce spent several seconds digesting the information, but his look of concern never shifted. "Running down the street? Away from what?" Clearly he didn't believe that the root of the problem could be something so innocent. 

Bentley rolled his eyes. "It wasn't away from anything; I was just playing tag. I wasn't looking where I was going and I lost my footing - that's why I woke up like that; it felt like I'd been falling."

"...That's it?" 

"Yeah, that's it. That's all it was, okay?"

Royce wanted to believe his younger brother, he really did - if not for Bentley's sake, then for his own; he knew otherwise he'd just be worrying about him for days on end - but something was holding him back. Whilst the boy's words were convincing, the fact that he couldn't lift his gaze from the greying fur of his stuffed dog told Royce that there was still more that he wasn't saying. And whilst he understood that it was hard to talk about traumatic events, it wasn't like Bentley to hide things from him - especially when it came to their family, which is what he still suspected the boy's dream had involved, despite his insistence otherwise. "...You know you can talk to me, right Benny?" Royce gently asked. 

Swallowing and reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet those of his brother, Bentley nodded and croaked out a quick: "yeah" that had sounded a lot more confident in his head. Still, his look of earnest at least made Royce pause before continuing his spiel. 

"You don't have to struggle with this on your own. We've had to deal with a lot over the last few years with Mom and Dad and Uncle Tommy and everything - it's been hard. And starting middle school on top of that doesn't make it any easier - believe me; I've done it. I've been in the same, exact position as you, Benny. I know exactly what you're going through right now, exactly how you're feeling, and it sucks, I know it does, but you don't have to go through it alone. We're both here for you, Ben - me and Miles - but we can't help you if we don't know what's going on. You've got to talk to us, okay?"

Bentley could feel his chest growing tight, and his throat felt scratchy when he swallowed, having been ravaged by the words he was fighting to keep down. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming at Royce that he had no idea what he was going through, and that he never would. But he funnelled that pent-up frustration into holding onto his older brother's concerned gaze, and willing his neck to deliver a strained nod. 

Royce could see that there was a new glassiness to Bentley's eyes that made his stomach clench - there was definitely something the boy was keeping from him. But before he could press the matter further, heavy footsteps came thundering towards their bedroom door, followed by a mop of messy, chestnut hair bursting through it.  

"Guys, guys, get up, we overslept!"

Toothpaste dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, the toothbrush in his fist dripped water onto the floor and his hair looked as though it hadn't seen a comb in days - but as soon as Miles set eyes on his little brothers, the panic behind them disappeared. 

"Oh…sweet, you're already up," he said with a breathy smile. "Get dressed; we've gotta leave in ten minutes."

"What about breakfast?" Royce asked, but Miles was already racing down the hall towards the kitchen. 

"I'm making PB&Js!" he hollered back, likely trailing more water behind him as he dove into the bathroom to make a quick pitstop to replace his toothbrush. 

A soft smile tickled Royce's lips as he watched his older brother's frantic retreat, mind temporarily clouded by hectic amusement. But when he turned back to look at Bentley, his smile slipped into a puzzled frown when he found the young boy lazily grabbing a clean pair of socks as though nothing had happened at all. 

Bentley felt Royce's eyes tracking him as he gathered together his clothes for the day, and eventually glanced across to ask: "You okay? Aren't you getting dressed?"

"I just- Are you sure you're alright, Benny?"

"It was a dream, Royce. I'm fine," he replied, slipping into a chuckle at the notion that he could be feeling any other way. "You won't be if you don't find some pants without cowboys on them though," he added with a cheeky smile, prompting Royce's eyes to flit down to his pyjamas and the rest of his body to spring to action. "Vivien's not gonna be impressed when she finds out you still dress like a six-year-old."

Maybe that nightmare hadn't been so bad afterall. Royce knew Bentley like the back of his hand, and if that dream had been as bad as Royce suspected it had, there was no way he'd feel up to laughing and joking like that - not this soon afterwards anyway. He must have just been overreacting. And besides, Bentley was growing up now - if he thought that the nightmare had been 'no big deal' then Royce owed it to him to believe him. Yeah, it was hard to take a step back and let go of the reins he'd looped around Bentley's shoulders to keep him safe, but the carefree smile the boy shot as he ran past him towards the bathroom made the blow sting a little less. 

A morning without chaos in the Murphy household was practically unheard of, but there was something about the mayhem that Royce took great comfort in. Quietly making his way into the kitchen, where sunlight splashed over the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink and Mr. Blue Sky crackled over the dusty radio on the windowsill, he couldn't help but smile as he watched Miles swipe jars across the cluttered countertop as though he was performing an elaborate magic trick. In reality, the seventeen-year-old was just trying to find a jar of either peanut butter or jelly that had any sort of viable contents for him to scrape out. One jar of peanut butter was so runny it was practically soup, the other was too solid to even stick a knife into. The only jar of grape jelly they had was so empty it looked like a minimalist stained glass window, and the only other jelly option was strawberry, which no one really wanted due to the hideous lumps suspended throughout it - but, thanks to a schedule tighter than the sweatband their neighbour, Mrs Martin, wore around her head every time she went speed-walking around the block, it would have to do. Royce had never seen someone break a sweat making a sandwich before, but Miles was giving it a damn good try. 

"Did you brush your teeth?" he asked, hurriedly cutting the sandwich and handing one of the halves to the boy beside him. 

"Eww, of course," Bentley replied with a chuckle as he set his glass of orange juice down and accepted the droopy sandwich. 

"Alright, good," Miles responded, absentmindedly running a nervous hand through his hair. It wasn't until after the fact that he realised he'd definitely smeared jelly all over his hand in his haste though. Knowing he had no time to do anything about the sticky hair situation, he just muttered out a quick curse and went back to his pedantic questioning. "Uh, did you pick out a clean shirt?"

"Yes."

"Did you make your bed?"

"Do I have time to go and make my bed?" Bentley asked through a mouthful of brown bread, eyebrows raised in quizzical amusement. 

"...Good point," Miles nodded, a smile pulling at his lips as he picked up the other half of the sandwich and took a bite. Out of the corner of his eye, he finally noticed Royce searching for a glass, prompting him to slide a plate bearing a PB&J along the countertop and extend the grin to him. "Eat up, buddy."

"Thanks," Royce smiled back, steadying the plate with one hand and plucking a cup from the shelf above his head with the other. "Have I got time for juice? Or am I going to have to try to eat this thing whole?" he continued with a chuckle. 

"Sure, we've got time," Miles said, eagerly setting his own sandwich down and brushing the crumbs from his hands as he stepped towards Royce and opened his palm. "Here, I'll get you some, you concentrate on eating."

"Yeah, 'cause I need my whole brain to eat a PB&J," Royce teased, earning him a snort of laughter from his older brother.

"So," Miles continued as he swung open the refrigerator door, empty glass in hand. "You guys got anything exciting going on at school today?" 

"Nick said he was gonna be planning something for us over the weekend," Bentley mused whilst licking a blob of peanut butter from his thumb. 

"Oh yeah, what?"

"I don't know, he wouldn't say. I think it's something to do with this game his cousin dropped off when he visited last week though," Bentley explained with an optimistic grin. "So that should be cool!"

"Sounds it," Miles chuckled, turning and handing Royce his glass back, now full of orange juice. "What about you, RJ?"

"Not really," he mumbled back, too preoccupied with finishing his breakfast to think about the day ahead. 

"Don't you have your book report presentation today?" Miles asked.

"Oh yeah, but that's not exciting."

"Sure it is; you and Vivien worked super hard on it." 

"Tell me about it, they wasted even more time than usual at the library working on that thing," Bentley teased. "I thought we were never going to get back to playing on her Atari."

"Oh yeah? Were you having to act as their chaperone, Benny?" Miles chuckled.

"'Chaperone'? What the hell would we need a chaperone for? It wasn't like it was a date or anything. We were just doing schoolwork," an appalled Royce insisted.

"Relax, I'm only teasing," Miles said with a reassuring grin and bump on the arm. "And I'm sure you'll both have done a great job. I want to hear all about how it went tonight, okay?"

"You really care about Emily Brontë?" Royce asked with a dubious smirk. 

"No, but I care about my little brother," Miles grinned, fondly ruffling the boy's hair. "Especially when he's acing his English lit class, you little genius."

"I don't know about 'acing' it," Royce mumbled, but his blush and shy smile betrayed his efforts to downplay his gratitude. 

"Hey Benny, have you got your English project back yet? You were working on that like it was gonna determine whether or not you got into college," Miles asked with playfully teasing chuckle as he revisited his half-eaten PB&J. 

"Oh yeah, Miss Hardy gave us them on Friday. I meant to tell you at work but then I went over to Kona's instead and by Saturday morning I'd forgotten all about it," Bentley began, rambling away as he rummaged through his backpack. Stray pencils flew in all directions and random doodles on scraps of paper fluttered to the floor, until finally, Bentley plucked a (slightly crumpled) piece of lined paper out from the chaos. Turning back to Miles, eyes alight with pride, he pushed the essay out from his chest as though he was taking his heart along with it. "But look, I got a B+!"

"Seriously?!" Miles exclaimed, eyes glittering with amazement before melting into the same pride his brother displayed. "Oh my god, Bentley, that's incredible!"

"I know, isn't it great? Miss Hardy says the only thing holding me back from an A was my spelling, but that's like a given anyway, so it's still pretty good if you think about it."

"Nice job, Benny," Royce congratulated, wrapping the younger boy in a side-hug as a proud grin of his own tugged at his lips. 

"It's not just good, Benny, it's amazing!" Miles gushed, setting his now-empty plate down and wiping his sticky fingers on the nearest dishcloth he could find. "This is like the best you've ever done on a project for English class. Hand it over, I've gotta read it; this is huge."

"You don't have to," Bentley bashfully chuckled with a roll of his eyes. "It's just a boring school report." But he handed the paper over anyway. 

"I know I don't 'have to', I want to. And it's not just 'a boring school report', it's your boring school report," he grinned, setting his little brother off giggling.

But before he could get past the title, a familiar horn crept through the cracks in the windowpane behind them. 

"Our chariot awaits" Royce sarcastically chucked, downing the last of his juice and slinging his backpack over his shoulder as Miles let out a frustrated sigh.

"It's alright, you really don't have to read it," Bentley tried. 

"No, no, I will, I promise," Miles stammered, juggling all the events he had lined up for the day in his head and trying to judge when was the best point to throw a little light reading into the mix.

"Are you guys coming, or what?" Royce called to them from the front door. 

Letting out another frustrated sigh, Miles gave up and grabbed a spare magnet from the refrigerator door: one shaped like a UFO that Bentley had been all too pleased to find at the bottom of an old Cookie Crisp box. He pinned the essay to the front of the fridge and turned back to Bentley, laying his hands on his shoulders. "I'll read it when I get back from work tonight, I promise."

Bentley already knew Miles would never lie to him, especially about something as trivial as this, but the way his blue eyes shone with sincerity, and his voice edged into slight desperation, drew a smile to his lips nonetheless. "Alright, alright, I believe you," Bentley reassured with a chuckle that satisfied Miles enough to let his shoulders slump as he returned the fond grin. 

"Did you guys forget about hurrying or something?" Royce joked, poking his head back into the kitchen. 

"Hey Royce, get over here," Miles said, quickly beckoning the boy over to join him. He set a hand on each of the boys' shoulders and bent down to eye level, taking a second to hold each of their gazes as his lips melted into another warm grin and his heart swelled with admiration. "I'm so proud of you both, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Bentley chuckled.

"Well duh,"  Royce playfully drawled as Miles pulled them both into a tight hug. "Why the sudden urge to tell us now?" he went on, words becoming muffled by Miles' moth-eaten sweatshirt. 

"I don't know, it's just… I know I don't always get the chance to sit you down and tell you but-"

Another longer, louder blast of a car horn blared through the chilly, morning air. It was unbelievable how much exasperation could be conveyed in one sound. 

"Oh shit, come on, we'd better go," Miles muttered, sighing as he straightened up and lovingly ruffled their hair before propelling them towards the front door. 

Whatever heartfelt sappiness Miles was about to share with the boys was lost to the school run rush as the three of them hurried to pull on their sneakers and attempt to appease their impatient driver. Seemingly, sentimentality had no business trying to worm its way into the Murphy brothers’ messy morning routine - at least not if their ride to school had anything to say about it anyway.

“You know, if I drove a school bus, your asses would be walking to class,” Butchy called out as the boys tore across their front lawn.

“Sorry Butchy, Miles slept through his alarm,” Bentley replied, shooting a cheeky grin back at his older brother.

“I didn’t sleep through my alarm,” Miles retorted with a defensive scoff. “…I forgot to set it.”

“Just get in,” Butchy chuckled with an amused smirk, opening the passenger door behind him.

“Where’s everyone else?” Royce asked.

“The hell if I know,” Butchy muttered. “I swear to God they’re gonna get me fired before I even see a pair of handcuffs.” A glance at his watch and an impatient scan of his surroundings later, he announced: “Okay, I've had it. If they’re not here in the next two minutes I’m leaving without ‘em.”

“You always say that,” Bentley giggled from his seat in the trunk.

“Yeah, well, this time I mean it,” he huffed, setting his face in a scowl that disappeared as soon as he caught sight of a certain brunette running down the street towards them. “And what time do you call this?” he asked with a teasing smirk that he at least somewhat conveyed his frustration.

“Sorry!” Mick cried, skidding to a halt, and struggling to catch her breath as she raced through her explanation. “My dad found some eggs that were gonna go bad in the pantry and he didn’t want to waste them, so he tried making pancakes, but we didn’t have enough milk so the batter was super clumpy, and then he couldn’t find his spatula to flip them, so he was trying to use these stupid salad tongs and then the smoke detector started beeping like crazy and suddenly there was melted plastic all over the stove-“

“Let me guess, he ended up burning them?”

“Yep, every single one,” Mick sighed with a deadpan delivery that always drew a chuckle from her boyfriend’s lips. “And the rangehood. It was a total disaster.”

“Damn,” Butchy laughed. “I’m surprised your mom still lets him in the kitchen.”

“I’m surprised we still have a kitchen. So, see? At least I have a valid excuse for my lateness,” Mick said as she grabbed the car door handle and wrenched it open. “It’s not like I just forgot to set my alarm or something.”

Butchy had to bite back another laugh as Miles shot her a look of weary disbelief and Royce and Bentley started giggling from the backseat.

“Don’t tell me you actually forgot to set your alarm,” Mick chuckled once she clocked Miles’ expression.

“…No comment.”

“What are we going to do with him?” Mick jokingly asked as she turned to Butchy, fondly shaking her head at the boy. “He can’t even work a damn clock.”

“You’re one to talk, you can’t tune a car radio.”

“That was one time!”

But Butchy was quick to shut down the bickering when a head of black hair darted by in the corner of his vision. “Hey, hey, hey, where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded as he turned to face his little sister, who was swanning down their driveway without a care in the world. “We’re five minutes late as it is – get in the car!”

“Huh?” she squeaked, stopping in her tracks as she adjusted her dangly, pink, heart-shaped earrings. But a look of recognition soon flashed across her face that allowed her lips to slip back into that same giddy grin she’d been sporting for the last month. “Oh wait, didn’t I tell you? I’m catching a ride with someone else today.”

Butchy’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at her announcement – partly because he couldn’t believe he’d waited for her all this time for nothing, but mostly because he couldn’t believe his baby sister was blowing him off so casually. “Oh yeah? Who?” he asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

But even if Lela’s expression wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the yellow Volkswagen camper van, decked out in hand-painted, groovy doodles, and blasting Walking on Sunshine by Katrina & The Waves, that pulled into view certainly was. Rolling down the passenger window, Tanner called out over the chatter of his three, rowdy friends in the back: “Morning, Lela! You ready to go?”

With the engine still running, and her usual, fellow passengers still gawping at her in incredulity, Lela giggled and skipped over to the van. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she chirped back as she threw open the passenger door and hopped in, slipping straight into whatever highly animated conversation the four teens had been sharing as they sped off into the distance without a second thought.

Momentarily stunned into silence, Mick, Butchy and the Murphy brothers watched the retreating vehicle – all still processing the bizarre turn of events that had injected a rather unwelcome unpredictability into their structured chaos of a school-run.

It was Mick that finally took the plunge and broke the tension though, nudging Butchy on the arm and offering him a mischievous grin as she tried to dampen the shock with a little humour. “Oh well, guess I call shotgun!”

Despite the rocky start, Mick and the Murphys made it to school with plenty of time to spare, much to Butchy’s relief. The four of them piled out of the black station wagon and bid their driver farewell before he sped out of the parking lot, allowing a dopey fool in round, reflective sunglasses and a ridiculous, orange jacket that made him look like a traffic cone, to roll through the cloud of dust it left in its wake.

“Waddup my dudes and dudette,” Ethan chuckled as he kicked his skateboard out from underneath his feet and caught it in the hand that wasn’t outstretched in a lazy wave. “How are we doing on this fine Monday morning?”

“All the better for seeing you, buddy,” Miles laughed through a yawn as Mick rolled her eyes from beside him.

“Shakespeare, Picasso, what the hell are you doing here?” he continued with an excited grin, high fiving each of Miles’ little brothers in turn. “You guys on a field trip or something?”

“No, we just haven’t walked to class yet,” Bentley chuckled, as amused by the older boy’s antics as ever - especially the bewildered look he sported before remembering just how close the Hawkins Middle campus actually was. 

"You guys totally sure you have everything you need?" Miles checked for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. "School books? Lunch money? Stuff for gym?" 

"Neither of us have gym today," Royce clarified. "And yeah, we're totally sure. You already made us check like ten times yesterday, remember?" 

"Okay, okay, just checking."

"Can we go now? I think I just saw Gus’ mom parking her car," Bentley asked, craning his neck around Royce to look for any evidence of blond hair amongst the crowds of pre-teens. 

"If you're not going to spring any bogus reasons for me to give you more lunch money then sure, be my guest," Miles teasingly chuckled, crossing the arms he'd just held up in surrender. 

"It was for a bake sale!" Royce insisted.

"Was that, by any chance, the same bake sale Vivien told me she was organising with her figure skating friends?" Mick asked with a smirk.

"That's the one," Miles confirmed as Royce's cheeks started to tinge pink.

"Are you kidding me, little man? You paid for that crap? You totally could have sweet talked her into giving you something for free," Ethan impishly grinned, causing the thirteen year old's entire face to flood scarlet. 

"Okay, I'm leaving!" Royce announced, quickly spinning on his heels and marching away.

"It's okay, he's just mad because he knows it's true," Bentley explained to the older teens, prompting them to let out a hearty laugh. 

"Have a good day, Benny," Miles grinned, fondly ruffling the boy's hair before sending him on his way. "Let me know how your science experiment goes, okay?" 

"Okay! Bye guys!" Bentley exclaimed, excitedly waving at Mick, Miles and Ethan before racing across the stretch of grass towards the middle school parking lot and straight past a still disgruntled Royce, who was about to get a farewell of his own. 

"Hey Royce!" The brunet turned to face his older brother, thankfully having managed to extinguish the fire prickling beneath the skin on his face in the few seconds he'd had his back turned. "Nail that English presentation, okay?" Miles called out with a beaming, proud smile that couldn't help but make a shy grin tug at Royce's lips. 

"Okay," the boy nodded, already beginning to turn back around. But a further, mischievous shout caught his attention before he could escape.

"And say 'hi' to Vivien for me!" Miles simply couldn't help himself; Royce's clunky little middle school almost-romance, or rather his fierce denial about it, was just too entertaining to ignore. And the bird Royce flipped him as he scowled and retreated across the field did nothing to deter the chuckles slipping from his lips, in fact it only egged them on more. 

Mick's next comment was quick to shut him up though. 

"So, is it just a coincidence that you and Royce are both hopeless with girls or is it like a genetic thing?" 

Miles' easygoing grin dropped from his face like a fly from a rolled up newspaper, replaced by a frown that felt all too familiar given the setting and chilly, October breeze. 

"Hah! Dude, it's gotta be genetic. You both have that same blotchy cheek thing going on and you both get all prickly and weird every time your chick's around," Ethan said with an amused snort of laughter as he scratched some dirt from the edge of his skateboard deck. 

"I do not," Miles insisted. "What the hell are you even talking about? I don't have a chick; I've been single since like-"

"Oh hey, Carrie."

Miles' heart leapt into his throat and his eyes bugged so far out of his head they almost fell out all together upon hearing Ethan's laidback greeting. But when he scrambled to straighten his posture and turned to follow the stoner's line of sight, only to find an empty stretch of parking lot, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Really, man?" he asked, face set in a scowl. 

"You were saying?" Ethan smirked. 

"You're so fucking annoying," Miles grumbled, play-punching him on the forearm despite his best, yet lethargic, efforts to dodge it. 

"Why? Because I'm right?" 

"No, for bringing her up again. I told you I was done thinking about her like that," Miles replied with a huff as he leant back against a wooden, parking marker sticking out of the unkempt lawn. 

"Hold up, you're not actually listening to my advice, are you?" Mick asked with a smug quirk of her eyebrow. 

"Not if that little performance was anything to go by," Ethan scoffed. 

"Well you caught me off guard," Miles tried.

"I don't know why you're both so against it, I say just let it happen," Ethan said with a blatant nonchalance that riled Mick's usually mellow temper up to no end. 

"'Just let it happen', gimme a break," she muttered with another roll of her eyes. 

"Why? What's wrong with that?" Ethan defended. "Best case scenario: he gets the girl. Worst case scenario: he doesn't - which, in case you hadn't noticed, is no different to where he is now. What's he got to lose?!"

"His dignity, his social life, all my respect for him-"

"Okay, okay, I think we get the point," Miles jumped in. 

"You guys are blowing this way out of proportion," Ethan said before giving Miles an affectionate thump on the arm. "It's just feelings, man. Feel what you've gotta feel. Let nature take its course."

"Sounds like the kind of advice that gets baby birds eaten by stray cats," Mick snarkily retorted.

"Oh yeah? You got a better suggestion Little Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass?" Ethan fired back. 

"Woah, woah, woah, let's walk it back a few steps," Miles cut in with the weariness of a father after a nine-to-five shift at the bank. "No one's giving bad advice, and no one's got a stick up their ass. It's just…time to call it quits. I don't have the energy for that crap anymore."

"You're really done?" Mick asked.

Miles simply nodded. 

After holding his gaze for a beat, and realising that he was actually telling the truth, Mick felt her shoulders relax. And all her scepticism melted into a warm, sympathetic smile. "I do think it's for the best," she gently prompted, to which Miles snorted out a self-pitying laugh. "I mean you have a crazy amount of stuff on your plate right now - piling unrequited love on there wasn't really your smartest move."

"'Unrequited'?" Ethan scoffed.

"It means 'one-sided', dumbass," Mick huffed. "I forgot you have the vocabulary of a four-year-old."

"Uh, I know what it means," Ethan retorted. "I just don't think that it applies here."

"Oh come on, man, don't start this again," Miles sighed. 

"I'm just saying, there's something there!"

"Yeah, with the boyfriend she's had for the last year and a half."

"Deny it all you want, pal, but these peepers don't lie. My ability to see the world in its truest form should not be underestimated; it's a gift."

"Yeah, and it was given to you in a plastic baggy by a seedy college drop-out," Mick quipped.

"Well, if that 'something' was a big enough deal to her then she'd have ditched Eric and made her move by now," Miles said with a blunt nonchalance that even took himself by surprise. "I'm telling you, she's happy as she is, and so am I. I've got great friends, two awesome neighbours, and the best little brothers anyone could ask for. What more could I want?"

"...A hot cheerleader to bone?" Ethan suggested, earning a look of disgust from Mick. 

"Not this time, pal," Miles responded with an amused chuckle.

"Not even on the side?" Ethan pressed. But he just got another chuckle from Miles and a smug shake of his head. "Damn… You really are getting over her, aren't you?" he grinned proudly.

"I told you!" Miles exclaimed.

"I'm proud of you, man!" Ethan said, grabbing Miles' hand and pulling him in for a 'bro hug'. "You passed that test like it was nothing," he finished with a loving clap on the back. 

"It was nothing. I told you, I'm over it - she's just another girl to me now."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive."

"Good…because she's handing out flyers over there so we're definitely gonna have to walk past her if we want to get to home room," Ethan said, smacking his hands down on Miles' shoulders and giving them an affectionate pat as he gestured towards the high school's entrance. 

Miles groaned as he yet again turned, only this time it was because he found that the lanky brunet was right. Apparently his newfound certainty over his feelings would have to be put to the test a lot earlier than he'd been planning. He at least thought he'd have until their shift started tonight anyway. But no, there she was, with her unruly golden curls and gravitational pull that made the Earth spin at half its usual speed every time he set eyes on her. How she wasn't freezing in her cheerleading uniform, he would never know - but he had a sneaking suspicion that Eric's letterman jacket hanging around her shoulders was playing a rather important role. Beaming and waving at every peer that crossed her path, she was the picture of high school popularity - greeting and laughing with them all as though they had been friends for years. Suddenly their interactions at All Skate didn't feel so special anymore. 

His chest ached as he watched her, strutting along with a spring in her step to match the bouncy beat of Walking on Sunshine, which was still blaring from her twin brother's camper van, parked a few feet away. A carefree smile stretched across her face that only broadened as a girl with a big, white bow holding her blonde ponytail in place, and an identical cheerleading uniform, ran up behind her and threw her arms around her neck. Her eyes sparkled with a delight that even Eric's presence couldn't ignite as she turned to face Juliet with a look of adoration that could have been plucked straight out of a John Hughes movie. Even though Miles knew that the girls had been best friends for well over a decade, he couldn't help the stab of envy that struck through him upon comparing their greeting to the one he typically received: the same cookie-cutter smile and wave she seemed to dole out to everyone else - and he only got that when she remembered he was there. He could see his resolve crumbling before his very eyes as Carrie and Juliet entwined fingers and babbled away to one another with giddy grins, so enamoured by one another's presence that Miles almost felt as though he was intruding by just standing there watching them. His eyebrows furrowed, and bile licked at the base of his throat as the truth of his reality finally dawned on him: not only was he back to square one - he was back at square one, and willing to hand over the keys to his house to swap lives with Juliet Harmon, of all people. Anything was worth Carrie looking at him the way she looked at that damn, blonde trust fund baby. 

"You still feeling confident, big guy?" Ethan teased. 

"...Yep."

Ethan and Mick took one look at Miles - stone-faced and misty-eyed - and knew that he was a lost cause. Mick was more disappointed than anything, but took a sympathetic approach to her consoling by laying a hand on his slumped shoulder. Ethan, on the other hand, took to imitating a trombone with a "Wah, wah, wah," that had Mick shooting daggers at him across Miles' blank stare. "Well that was fun while it lasted," he went on to joke.

"Ethan, you're not helping," Mick hissed. 

Ignoring her comments, Ethan rambled on, steering Miles away from the cheerleaders and brushing Mick's hand from his shoulder in one swift shove. "Hey, I've gotta give you credit though, man; you kept that up for way longer than I expected - it was like a solid fifteen hours this time."

"Yeah, well, I was asleep for half of it," Miles mumbled.

"But did you dream about her?" 

"No -"

"Then I'm calling it a win, my friend!" Ethan exclaimed, grabbing Miles' wrist and teeing himself up for a high-five that, surprisingly, managed to draw a smile from Miles' lips. 

"Hmm, now you've just got to figure out how to turn fifteen hours into a lifetime," Mick dryly snorted from beside the pair.

"Don't listen to her, buddy. Negative Nancy doesn't know what she's talking about," Ethan said, waving a dismissive hand in Mick's face and locking Miles' gaze onto his with a protective hand on his upper arm. "You're making good progress! And we're gonna keep making good progress because I, personally, am gonna navigate us… so that we can get you to help…you through this…together."

"...I get what you're trying to say, and I appreciate the sentiment, but that made almost no sense whatsoever," Miles chuckled. 

"How the hell are you passing English?" Mick muttered. 

"I am hanging by a thread, Mickey Mouse."  

"You're seriously gonna accept help from someone who can't even string a sentence together?" Mick demanded, jabbing an accusatory thumb in Ethan's direction as she stared Miles down. 

But a head of dirty blonde sticking out amongst a crowd of middle schoolers in the distance, and a curly mop of brown hair trailing behind, watching a brunette with a messy ponytail and a pair of round glasses like she was a prime time TV special, caught his attention before he could respond. An immediate, and unexpected wave of pride washed over him, filling him with a confidence he couldn't quite explain, and suddenly crushes on co-workers and bickering best friends felt like trivial, distant memories - tiny obstacles in the grand scheme of his whole life that were no more consequential than a paper cut or a stubbed toe. Sure, they could hurt, and they could be a major inconvenience, but nothing could hold a candle to how important those two boys were to him. And things were really looking up for them right now - they were both doing well in school, they both had solid friends, and most of all: they were happy. And if those two were happy, then that was all he needed to be happy too - blonde cheerleaders be damned. 

"You know what?" Miles chuckled as a smile slipped into place of his weary frown. 

"What?" Mick sceptically asked. 

"No; I don't need any help," he simply replied as he puffed out his chest and glanced over his shoulder at Carrie. Whereas once this act alone would have sent his senses into overdrive, all he felt this time was the crackling flame that her presence always ignited in his chest fizzling out into a pile of glowing embers. "I've got it under control."

"...Seriously?" For Mick, it felt too good to be true.

"Yeah, I've got a good feeling about this week," Miles said, scanning his surroundings with an optimistic grin. The October breeze nibbled away at his rosy cheeks, and ruffled his hair, but nothing could shake his determination this time. "Things feel like they're actually looking up for us for once," he went on to explain. "And I'm not gonna let myself ruin it by getting worked up over some stupid crush that's never going to go anywhere." 

Mick and Ethan shared a momentary look of astonishment before relieved smiles broke across their faces. 

"That's more like it, buddy!" 

"Wow, look at you, Mr Positive. I'm impressed," Mick chuckled. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

With another glance across to Hawkins Middle School, where Bentley, Royce and Vivien were disappearing inside, Miles settled on his fond response: "I guess I just remembered what's actually important."

"Good," Mick said with a fond smile of her own that soon turned sour thanks to her next statement: "Because it's definitely not that narcissistic asshole."

"Damn, who shit in your cornflakes?" Ethan snorted.

"I had pancakes," Mick deadpanned, just as game for Ethan's dopey shenanigans as ever. 

"Look, do you actually still not like her? Or are you just saying that for kicks?" Ethan asked. "I mean, I got it at first because it was super weird that she was even talking to us, but we've been working with her for months now and she has definitely proved herself to be more than an asshole." But when Mick showed no signs of acknowledging that he was right, he pressed on. "Haven't you at least grown to like her a little bit?"

"No, because unlike some people, I'm not swayed by hollow compliments and scraps of petty gossip," Mick replied with a pointed look at her two sheepish co-workers.

"Hey, no, come on, you've gotta admit that her telling us about Hayley Baskin tying her boyfriend to his bed frame was fucking insane - it was like an episode of Dynasty," Ethan tried to defend, but there was no changing Mick's mind - not even when Miles gave a reluctant nod of agreement.

"Yeah, because humiliating her classmates is the way to get me to see her as a nice person," Mick sarcastically fired back with another roll of her eyes. "She may have fooled you two with her stupid 'girl next door' act, but I'm not buying it," she continued, barely even sparing the two cheerleaders a glance over her shoulder as her lips settled into a bitter frown. "Look at them: smiling and laughing like they don't spend half their time ruining everyone's lives - like butter wouldn't fucking melt."

"Uh, it wouldn't anyway, it's freezing out here," Ethan said, earning himself a death glare from Mick as Miles stifled a laugh. "It's gotta be like, what? 40 degrees out today?" 

"It is when you get caught in Mick's eyeline," Miles quipped with an exaggerated shiver. 

"You're such idiots," Mick huffed, once again sending her eyes to the heavens as she turned and started heading to class. "I don't know why I waste my breath on you."

But Miles was quick to grab her hand, dropping the act and turning on the sincerity. "Hey, come on, we're just joking around. Don't let him get to you - or her for that matter; you said it yourself: she's not worth it." 

"...And I am always right," Mick begrudgingly quipped back, softening as Miles chuckled and pulled her in for a side hug, affectionately rubbing her arm. "You're both still idiots though."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know you love me really," Ethan grinned.

"Hmm, something like that," she hummed with a chuckle of her own as she turned to Miles and patted the arm that he had just wrapped around her. "Alright, I've gotta head off to class; I've got an algebra test first period and I'm not risking losing any more brain cells by standing around out here and talking to you bozos. I'll see you at lunch - keep that good attitude going," she instructed Miles with an encouraging smile, before turning to Ethan and flicking his forehead, "And keep him on the right track - don't be a fucking moron." 

"Aye, aye, captain," Ethan replied with a lazy salute once he recovered from the thump.

"Don't lose focus," she continued, calling out to Miles over her shoulder as she headed towards the school's entrance. "You've got thi-"

But her sentence was cut off when she collided with a lacy push-up bra and found herself enveloped in a cloud of heady perfume. 

"Woah, watch-" As the two girls whipped to face each other, Carrie's wide-eyed, furious glare softened into an amused smoulder the second she realised who had almost mowed her down. "Oh, hey, Makana," she said, exaggerating the name as though she was playing a game with a child - one she found rather amusing if her smirk was anything to go by.

"Carrie," Mick huffed back, not prepared to greet her with anything more than her name as she averted her eyes and tried to hurry past her. 

But Carrie was too quick, and side-stepped in front of the girl before she could escape - blocking her path with glittering eyes and a toss of her hair. "You're coming to the pep rally this Wednesday, right?" 

It was more of a statement than a question. 

A brightly coloured flyer for the event was confidently waved under Mick's nose, as if could convince her to ditch her plans from just the choice of font alone. "No; I've got work. And so do you, remember?" she deadpanned back, not even bothering to pluck the piece of paper from the blonde's manicured fingertips. 

"Oh please, it's a Wednesday - we never get anyone in on a Wednesday. Big Ralph isn't gonna miss us for like an hour. And even if he did, if everyone comes to the pep rally, then we won't be losing out on any revenue, will we? It's a no-brainer."

But Carrie's blasé attitude did nothing to sway Mick, and it showed in her face.

Undeterred, the blonde ploughed on with her sales pitch - although it did take a rather catty turn. "Oh come on, Mick. When else are you going to get the chance to show off your school spirit? You could practically be the face of the pep rally with that smile of yours - you know, when you actually show it." 

Mick's scowl flared in retaliation before warping into a strained, sickly sweet version of that aforementioned smile. "Well, I hate to disappoint but you and your pep rally will have to manage without me, because, unlike you, I actually care about keeping my job. Not that I have much 'pep' to offer anyway," Mick said, trailing off with a dejected grumble as she once again tried to push past the senior.

Once again, Carrie blocked her path. "Hey, I care about keeping my job," she said, but the laughter that kept edging into her voice told Mick otherwise. 

"Could have fooled me," Mick muttered, praying that she hadn't cared enough to hear. 

As usual with Carrie, Mick was proved wrong.  

"Oh yeah? …Care to elaborate?" Folding her arms and raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow, the golden-haired diva stood back to watch the show with a challenging smirk. 

"I'm just going by your clock-in times from last week, that's all," Mick replied with a smirk of her own, emboldened when she caught Carrie's eye twitching - likely in shock that she'd actually dared to stand up to her.

"Stickler for the rules, huh?" she scoffed before her lip gloss laden smirk twisted into a wicked grin. "I bet Biagio likes that."

Now it was Mick's turn to see red. She should have known better than to stoop to such sugar-coated spiteful bickering, but with Carrie it was all too tempting. If only the senior wasn't so well-trained, Mick might have had a chance at coming out on top - but if there was anything she'd come to learn over the years, after seeing countless other students fall victim to her razor-sharp wit, no one was a match for Caroline Cole when it came to bitchy back-talk.  

Mick bit her tongue so hard she nearly severed it as she set her jaw and tried to keep her cool. "Is there a point to this conversation, Carrie? Or can I just go?" she finally asked with a heavy sigh. 

"Well are you going to come to the rally?" 

"No."

"Then no, we're not done yet." 

Letting out an exasperated huff, Mick crossed her arms and glared straight into the pair of unbothered, blue eyes in front of her. "Look, nothing you're going to tell me is going to get me to go to your stupid pep rally. I'm not missing work, and I'm certainly not covering you whilst you do either. I'm done working my ass off to make up for your laziness. So either get out of my way, or give me a flyer and do the right thing for once in your goddamn life."

"...What? Like ditch the rally?"

Mick could have screamed. Carrie's ditzy flippance was infuriating at the best of times, but right now it was just unbearable.  

"I can't do that, I'm already missing the party afterwards - actually, I might have to dip from my shift a little early so that I can at least go for like an hour because, you know, I don't want people thinking I'm a total lame ass-"

"Carrie!" Mick snapped, cutting the blonde's self-centred rambling off before she reached her boiling point. 

Startled by the girl's outburst, Carrie pushed her trivial social quandaries to the back of her mind and actually took stock of the sight before her: wide, resentful brown eyes and a pair of shoulders so tense she'd have offered to massage them herself had she not suspected she was the cause of their strain. A fleeting moment of sympathy resonated through her chest as she abandoned her own problems in favour of solving Mick's, although her soft smile and flippant laughter might not have been the most sincere way of attempting to smooth things over. "Alright, alright, I'll stay the whole shift, don't get your panties in a twist," she chuckled as that wicked smirk of hers started to reappear. "Or, you know, do; I don't know what Officer Buzzkill likes." 

Even her attempts at being nice were laced with malice. Mick couldn't even bring herself to crack a smile as the girl's carefree giggles filled the air around her. 

It took a few seconds, but Carrie did eventually notice that Mick wasn't laughing along with her, and promptly deflated like a beachball on the first day of autumn. "Oh come on, Makana, you know I'm just joking around."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm not in much of a joking mood," Mick retaliated with another heavy sigh. 

Softening yet again, Carrie chipped off another layer of her 'stone-cold bitch' casing and let what was left of the warm, earnestness bubbling away beneath spread to Mick as she set the pep rally flyer back with the others in the pile and placed her free hand on Mick's upper arm. "Hey, look, if this whole work schedule thing is really getting to you then I'll start taking it more seriously, okay? No more late clock-ins, no more 'off-the-record' breaks and no more ditching at the last minute to go to the movies - I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise."

"I didn't think you had a 'best behaviour'," Mick retorted before she could stop herself - but surprisingly, Carrie was the first out of the pair to laugh at the comment, which did far more than any of her other efforts to settle Mick's nerves. 

"I'll figure something out," she joked back. 

"Seriously?" Mick asked, trying not to get her hopes up too high. After all her joking around, and her general lack of trust for the girl, it was hard to know if this time was actually genuine - although her affectionate smile did a lot to help her cause. 

"Totally, I'll do whatever you want if it stops you looking like you want to murder me," Carrie chuckled. "Within reason of course," she added with a wink that took Mick so much by surprise that any words that could have formed any sort of response totally fell out of her head. And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Mick felt a real smile begin tugging at the corners of her lips as she stared back at Carrie. Maybe Miles and Ethan were on to something after all. There was something intoxicating about that grin of hers - the way it made her eyes sparkle like her work outfits when they caught the light from the disco ball. And when she had you locked in her tractor beam, it was hard not to succumb to the warm, tingly sensation her genuine kindness sent flooding through your core - perhaps because it could be such a rarity. 

Before Mick could linger on the shift in dynamic though, and the curiously flirtatious undertones she felt sure that wink had carried (if her experience with Butchy's winks was anything to go by), a bright blonde ponytail popped up over Carrie's shoulder that immediately snatched her attention away. 

"Guess whose boyfriend just dumped her after she dyed her hair green?" Juliet said with a hushed exclamation that just about worked its way through Carrie's mane of unruly curls. 

Unlike Juliet though, Carrie made no attempt to hide her delight at the comment as her eyes lit up like the 4th of July and a downright villainous laugh burst from her mouth. "Holy shit, she actually did it?!" 

"Yep!" Juliet gleefully giggled as she once again looped her arms around Carrie from behind and pulled her in for a hug. 

"Damn, that is such a shame - I could have sworn Brad said that he liked when girls went unnatural with their hair," Carrie started with what appeared to be a genuine look of concern. "Oh no, wait. Or was it that he didn't like it?" 

Any of the hope for Carrie turning over a new leaf Mick had been harbouring wilted as Juliet began to giggle and another wicked grin tugged at the curly-haired perpetrator's lips. 

"...Oops," Carrie said, flashing Juliet a momentary look of mock-regret before bursting into cacophonous, callous laughter and collapsing back into her embrace. 

Mick felt sick to her stomach watching the two girls cackle at the expense of their classmate - both too self-absorbed to care about the consequences of their 'jokes' for those on the receiving end. Carrie could douse herself in all the glitter and perfume in the world, but that would never change the ugliness of the person underneath. She did a fantastic job at turning on her charm to convince people otherwise - after all, it had certainly convinced Miles and Ethan - but Mick saw through the charade; she saw her for who she truly was. And fleeting moments of superficial kindness were not enough to get her to forget about the years of cruelty she'd subjected her peers to. 

As expected though, Carrie spared no thoughts on the rest of the world around her as she steadied her white sneakers on the tarmac and rested her head back on Juliet's shoulder once their laughter subsided. "Oh, I love being me," she finished with a blissful sigh. 

"Come on, she's over by the bike shed," Juliet said, entwining her fingers with Carrie's. "She's bound to have turned on the waterworks by now."

And with that, the giggling girls scurried off in search of further amusement without even sparing Mick a glance, let alone a farewell. 

"Bye?" Mick called after the pair (moreso Carrie though, since she was the one she'd been speaking to), but they still didn't turn around - too wrapped up in their own conversation to think about the one they'd left behind. 

Letting out a huff of frustration - both at being left in the dust, and at her hopes of Carrie changing for the better being dashed - Mick pulled her Walkman out of her backpack and started plugging her headset into the right port. A pair of hands slamming down on her shoulders startled her so much they were sent to the ground with a clatter though. 

"Oh shit, sorry," Miles chuckled. 

"This whole 'I'm over her' thing had better be real, Miles, because I swear to God she's getting worse," Mick grumbled as she bent down and retrieved the beat-up cassette player. She spent a few agitated seconds brushing it off before turning to him with a warning, fiercely protective look in her deep brown eyes. "Stay away from her."

"Hey, you're the one who nearly tackled her to the ground," Miles grinned, holding his hands up in surrender as Mick conceded in her own way with a begrudging smile. "I'll be glad when this algebra test of yours is over; I don't like you being this tense," he added, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. 

"I'm more worried about you than this test," Mick replied with a snort of incredulity. 

"Well don't be; I can handle myself - especially against a cheerleader who's more hair than human," Miles laughed. "And besides, Kona's been practising her karate moves on me - I'm basically ready to take on anything at this point."

"Yeah, well, for my sake, don't put that to the test," Mick replied with a fond grumpiness that soon lost out to the smile Miles' laughter drew from her lips.

"Speaking of tests, try not to fail yours," Miles chuckled, wrapping an arm around her as she set about plugging her headphones into her Walkman again. 

"I'll do my best," Mick replied, bidding Miles a nod of farewell as he continued on his way into school after a dazed Ethan who hadn't even realised he’d left his side yet. 

Smiling as she watched Miles leave, Mick pressed play on her cassete-player. But before she could lift her headphones up onto her ears, she spotted a flash of white and blonde in the corner of her vision. Sure enough, there were Carrie and Juliet: animatedly chattering to a group of school basketball players and, from the looks of their coy, fluttering eyelashes and flirty tosses of their hair, doing their best to convince the jocks to show up to a pep rally they already knew damn well were going to attend. Still, if they wanted to drive their relationships into the dirt, then Mick certainly wasn't going to stop them. Girls like that would never know a love like she and Butchy had anyway. 

So, as her smile became tinged with a rare smugness, beyond the initial disgust, she took a deep breath and let her head be filled with sweet music, rather than poisonous thoughts about a certain bitchy blonde. And as she trudged her way through Hawkins High's dingy halls, she couldn't help but feel as though Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' was an apt choice of song to accompany the morning's events. Fate worked in funny ways like that.

[nishipostitz]

how haikyuu men propose

gn!reader x various characters

tw! joke mention of sexy time in first one, just fluff. none tbh

will put sunscreen on his back as “will you marry me” and tan on the beach or anywhere that’s tan-able. he’ll lift up his shirt and show you. hehehhahaha. probably during sexy time or idk, like the shower after the beach 😭. not the MOST romantic, but it’s humorous and he’ll do a more acceptable one later on!!

bo, noya, hinata, oikawa, atsumu, daichi

helicopter trip. to show the written will you marry me on the beach or somewhere else. ok let’s say he’s a rich ceo, or just rented out a helicopter for a while, and youre in a helicopter with him flying over the beach or some high buildings. the beach would have the words “will you marry me?” dug into it. or, it could he shells, but aligning them is a pain in the ass. but who wouldnt go extra measures for their love? and for the buildings, he sets up flowers in those very words. you DID in fact say yes, and it was a total success!!

sakusa, akaashi, ushijima, suga

(you both know morse code) and he proposes through the wall. maybe while youre showering? ok, so you were like studying or doing things in the room right next to his, so he decided to knock on the wall in morse code. you were thrown off guard by the question. so you went outside and there he was, kneeling, ready to ask for your hand in marriage. and the showering situation, LMAO, that just sounds awkward 💀

kageyama, tanaka, osamu, futakuchi

they hang the sign on your ceiling. so its the first thing you see waking up. (lets pretend everyone sleeps facing up). funny funny. waits until like the ass crack of dawn when they know youre KNOCKED out and they start taping up the poster board with the question. and luckily, the first thing you wake up to, is the sign. except, it was UPSIDE DOWN… but you were able to understand it and thats all that mattered. now youre 4 years in the marriage living a lavish and happy life 😼

iwai, lev, yams, tendou, asahi, semi

man is rich and does a proposal on a yacht. like, he is getting it DONE. he loves you and you love him. why not propose right then and now?

suna. kuroooooo, mad dog. goshiki

youre both introverts, so it was a private proposal 🥰🥰🥰 honestly what i want

kita, sakusa 2.0, kenma, yaku, its lowkey giving aone 🫶 , tsukki

hopefully, i didnt miss anyone 🙏🙏🙏 lmao, i came up with this last month at like 1-2 am right before going to sleep, so i just HAD to write it in my notes or else i would forget. luckily, i didnt. its stilk kinda boring LOL

uh, was this fun to read? and any suggestions for anything else?

[gothicprep]

fake fun facts are fascinating to me. pennies are magical things that defy the laws of physics and kill people if you throw them off buildings. the toilet flushes backwards in australia. you can see the great wall in space. you only use 10% of your brain. sos means "save our ship".

some of them are somewhat based on true stories – like, SOS is a distress signal because it's efficient to write in morse, although you're probably thinking "save our asses" when you write it. coriolis force is a thing, but this one ultimately comes down to the strength of the jets in the toilet being a bit more powerful than the earth's rotation (would generally recommend against peering into your toilet for Science purposes though). you don't use all your brain at once, but none of it is lying dormant unless you've seriously injured your head.

but the great wall and pennies ones are just bullshit. we need to have a spiders georg style post every couple of years so people move away from saying stuff like that.

"albert einstein never flunked a math class. man with equally messy hair, albert weinstein, died before he could pass an alg course. little easy to get them mixed up."

it's not so hard

[bugdottele]

As known Oscar would sleep in the nursery most nights because he hated his room.

Well a few months after Bruno left, Oscar just so happened to find a book about Morse code totally not suspiciously on his bed.

So he starts to read it, because he loves to read fun fact, and slowly learns Morse code.

He practices it out on the walls of Casita after Maribel has fallen asleep and a few weeks later was when he got his first response

It scared him enough to where he didn’t do it for a few nights. Though he reasons in his mind that it was Casita speaking back to him.

So for years he would spend the nights away tapping on the walls and telling ‘Casita’ about his day.

One of the most common phrase coming back was mi pequeño rato (which I hope translate to my little rat) which was what Bruno would call Oscar.

It always made Oscar feel safe and as if his papí was still there

Little did he know it was actually Bruno who had left the book and who was co versing with him through Morse code. Not that he would actually tell Oscar this, especially when the good nights from Oscar would range from “Goodnight Casita” to “Goodnight papí”

[dragongirl642]

If you are taking requests may I request some Heisenberg with a mute SO (maybe from an injury? Or trauma?) who, initially when they first met he thought they were too afraid of him to speak to him but eventually realised that no, they just CANT speak. Maybe they communicate through sign language instead?

Hi there 😎 To confirm, asks are open for head canons and mashups.

Thank you for the ask, I am thriving of this Heisenberg fix 😘

Discalimer: I am not mute and have never written a mute character before, I apologise for any inconsistencies or stereotypes that arise.

Here are some sfw headcanons for Heisenberg with a mute S/o (including their first meeting).

How he reacts to a first meeting depends on the situation.

If he meets you while doing his job as a Lord, e.g., kidnapping, after the lycan attack, or catching you somewhere you shouldn't be:

Heisenberg isn't surprised when you don't say anything upon meeting him. He knows the effect an unknown man wielding a giant hammer and levitating metal has on an unsuspecting person and can't help but grin at your shocked gasp and wide eyes.

However, he does want a reaction. You know how he just casually stands there and waits for a reaction from Ethan? That.

So he starts to get annoyed when you don't say anything.

No pleas for freedom? Sarcastic comebacks? Witty banter? This man thrives off of whatever communication he can get from anyone who isn't part of his 'family', so he gets angsty.

He will amp up the dramatics for a reaction - think flinging metal past you or holding shards to your neck with his abilities, "Well, are you not going to say anything?" "Cat got your tongue?"

But when you gesture frantically to your throat and mouth and sign at him, he freezes.

At the moment, using his voice is one of the only ways he can actually rebel against his 'family', so he immediately feels pity for you.

Depending on his mood, and whether any of the other Lords or Miranda has a spy nearby, he may shoo you away/point to an exit. But most likely he will either kidnap you to his factory, telling himself that he'll let you go later, or take you to the others anyway.

If he meets you before the incident, while taking one of his coveted jaunts to pub or walk through woods:

Just like in the other situation, he craves communication and reactions.

He is momentarily shocked when you reveal that you can't verbally communicate with him, but then tries to immediately show-off the little Romanian sign language he knows. (During his initial kidnapping and experimentation by Mother Miranda, he met and learned a few phrases from one of the other children and a maid). However, he quickly realises that it's not enough to have a full conversation; also, you might/probably sign in a different language/non-compatible variant (BSL, Auslan, ASL, SSl, etc...).

If you respond with enthusiasm to his attempts, he will be encouraged to seek out other means of holding a conversation, writing on a napkin, playing yes-or-no, and charades.

Will make a lot of jokes and innuendos about a common language that doesn't require talking. (Wink wink 😉😱 if you know what I mean)

He's surprised by how much fun he has talking to you and playing yes-no/charades. He doesn't want to leave but he will.

Will most likely hint that you should leave the area, believing you'll be safer away form the village. (Anyone would be).

Whilst in a relationship

As mentioned before, Heisenberg is very insecure and requires reassurance from his s/o that they want to stay with him. Establishing communication with his s/o is of paramount importance.

All the paper he owns always ends up oil-stained, ripped, or charred, but he somehow immediately finds a clean notepad and gifts it to you with a gilded quill. He may forget to provide ink at first, but he soon realises.

Alao, if you're used to modern conveniences, you may have to deal with a quill for awhile - Pens, what pens, all of his are chewed to oblivion and empty, same for his pencils, chewed and shattered. He searches for three hours across the whole factory before he realises he doesn't have a single working pen left and will go out to find more (or buy some of the duke).

He learns the sign language you use. Even though he's a fast learner, It's a slow process since the only material he has to learn with is a few scraps of paper from an outdated sign book, in the wrong language, and you.

When signing, his accent is a bit lazy (especially if he's working) and, if you teach him, he uses a lot of slang, for speed. Basically the signed equivalent of a stereotypical movie cowboy drawl.

Although he's adverse to physical affection anyway, especially at the start of the relationship, he gradually gets more needy with hand-holding and kisses.

Everytime you squeeze his hand in response to a question/statement, he raises your hand and kisses the palm. It makes conversations ten times as long but he won't stop no matter what.

Kisses your neck...a lot!

Definitely knows morse code. Builds a receiver set so you can message him anywhere in the factory. If you know it too, he's happy to respond to you tapping messages, and sometimes making cheeky jokes and innuendos from around a corner where you cant see him. If you don't, he'll teach you.

Also, morse code arguments...that almost always end in laughter if one of you taps out "don't yell at me".

Will try and build an arm-mounted typewriter for you...It doesn't go well.

One day when he's tinkering around making more headgear for a hauler he has an idea and excitedly rushes to find you. Just like how the headgear simulates brain activity, he offers to try and build a neural implant that will transmit your thoughts to a speaker.

He will mope around/sulk if you reject him, and start building it in secret. If you give in to his puppy eyes and agree he will throw himself into building it, but once he realises how intrusive/dangerous it will be for you, he stops and congratulates himself on keeping you safe (even though it was his idea in the first place).

If you're mute due to an injury, he will sometimes entertain the thought of building mechanical vocal chords.

If you're a selective mute, due to trauma, the first time he hears you speak (if you do), he starts crying. Definitely recorded you for playback later.

I think he is the Lord most likely to use the fact that you're mute against you in an argument. Either as an insult, or to gain the upper hand by tearing away whatever you're using for communication to silence you, e.g., taking away your paper, pinning your hands to the wall so you cant sign, etc...

He always regrets it though, and will try to apologise by being extra accommodating and making you gifts.

If he is in a tantrum, after coming back from a 'family' meeting, and there is metal flying everywhere, It will be even harder to get his attention than normal.

The first time this happened, he didn't realise you were there until a shard of metal sliced open your arm and you fell into some boxes stacked in the corner. Thr clatter, your tears, and the pained sound you made, brought him back to the moment and sent him straight into panic mode, he fussed over you for five hours with tears in his eyes; patching your arm, worrying over blood loss, holding your hand and refusing to let go.

He made a loud jangly bracelet or belt covered in bells and asked you to wear them. It took a while of steady convincing for him to realise this is going overboard.

However, despite your refusal, he knows the factory is a dangerous place and is terrified that you may one day be in danger and he wouldn't realise. (Even more so that he will be the one to hurt you).

He finds an airhorn, and also makes a panic button that will set off the factory's alarms, for you. Should you ever find yourself in danger, e.g., cornered by a lycan or soldat, there's an intruder, or you need to snap him out of an episode, you can just blow the horn/start the alarms and he'll come running.

He will sulk until you accept the panic button and try and hide it in your clothes, either with his powers or through 'surprise hugs' (which is instantly suspicious, because he's not the one to initiate hugs most of the time).

(I feel like he would make a panic button for a non-mute s/o too. Losing you is this man's biggest fear).

Whew...all done. 😅 Thank you again for the ask, it was eye-opening researching different types of sign language.

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time - part 2

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader

warning: none that I can think of

word count: 2,700-ish

a/n: just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to comment, reblog or like the first part 💕 your support truly means a lot to me. everyone who has asked to be tagged or requested a second part has been @-ed below.

previous part

"Who are you talking to?”

The question came seemingly out of nowhere, making you jump so hard you almost dropped the phone in your hand.

“Jesus, woman!” you swore, putting your free hand over your rapidly beating heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Natasha was fresh out of the shower, her wet hair twisted in a towel. The redhead was wearing an oversized grey hoodie and some sweatpants that you had found somewhere deep inside your closet. She looked adorable, you had to admit, like a kid wearing their parent's clothes. The sight strangely made your stomach flip.

“Force of habit, I'm afraid,” she smiled apologetically, carefully sitting down on the couch. Her face was finally clean, no more mud, blood, or grime sticking to her features. Except for the blue-ish bruise on her left cheekbone, and a small cut near her eyebrow, her skin was unfairly flawless.

“So, are you gonna answer my question?”, she plopped her feet up on your coffee table, shaking you out of your thoughts. With a shrug, you pocketed your phone, hoping she hadn’t noticed your staring.

“Just work. Called in sick until Tuesday. After all, I can’t let you roam around my apartment unsupervised. For one, you’re injured, for another, you’re still a stranger.”

On your way to the couch, you picked up the first aid kit from your kitchen counter.

“A stranger?” she repeated with mock hurt, putting a hand over her heart, “ You wound me. After everything we’ve been through, I really thought we were getting closer.”

Shaking your heart amusedly, you sat down next to her. Balancing the first aid kit on your thigh, you pulled on a pair of rubber gloves with a snap. You could feel her gaze on you, watching your every move. Nervously, you cleared your throat, a little uncomfortable with her attention.

“Let’s have a look,” you nod to her and she complied with your unspoken request, pulling the hoodie up just enough for you to access her injury. Gingerly, you removed the bandage, dumping it into the trash can and inspecting the stitched wound, quietly humming in concentration as you did.

“I think you strained it a bit with your morning escapades today but I don’t think you pulled any of the stitches,” you concluded after a moment. Your voice sounded more sure than you actually felt about your assessment, considering all your expertise came from the internet. But, apparently, your word was good enough for your patient.

“See, I told you. You worried for nothing,” she slapped your shoulder jestingly and you rolled your eyes, taking out a new bandage to re-wrap the wound.

“I wouldn’t say for nothing. After all, you have been stabbed and only received medical attention from an amateur,” you pointed out, giving her a chastising look when she tried to dismiss your troubles with a languid hand motion.

“I think you should be concerned by the fact that I seem to be more worried about your health than you are," you continued, undeterred, "How's the pain, by the way?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, waving away your concerns, “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I'll be fine”, Natasha insisted with emphasis, “Besides, I don’t like taking painkillers. Dulls the senses.”

If you weren’t as tired as you were, you might have argued a little more. Instead, all you did was sigh and give a curt nod to signal your understanding. You didn’t really get her at all. If she was just going to hang around your apartment for the next couple of days, then who cares if her senses are dulled? It wasn't like anyone knew she would be here.

You finished wrapping her wound, leaning back to observe it from afar. You were admittedly getting better at bandaging. So that was a plus point.

“Alright, that’s it,” you nodded pleased, starting to clean up. Natasha inspected your work as well, pulling her hoodie back down once she was satisfied.

“You’re surprisingly good. Have you ever done this before?”

Chuckling, you shook your head, closing the little dark green box on your lap.

“You mean have I ever stitched someone together before and let them take refuge in my home? No. Can’t say I have.”

She smiled at your sarcastic tone, rolling her eyes playfully, before smirking mischievously.

“Ah, I'm your first. I'm honoured.”

You flushed at the implication of her statement, trying to hide your embarrassment by fiddling with the first aid kit. Don’t overthink it. You do not want these kinds of thoughts right now. Not about her. Sure, she is beautiful and it is kind of fun to banter with her and she has probably the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen and her lips…

“So, what’s your verdict doc?” she nudged you back to reality, amusement in her voice. You cleared your throat, shaking your head to clear your previous thoughts away.

“You need rest. Lots of it. No putting unnecessary strain on your injury,” you explained distractedly, pulling the gloves from your hands and letting them drop into the trash can, “So, I forbid you from leaving the couch for anything other than using the bathroom. Like I said before, if you need something, ask me.”

“You forbid me? My, my, how bossy of you. Then again, your home, your rules.”

“I just don’t want you to make anything worse,” you replied earnestly, ignoring her teasing tone.

Natasha grinned, eyes sparkling, leaning dangerously close to you.

“It's cute how concerned you are,” she almost whispered, her breath ghosting over your face. You felt your heart speed up.

“Don’t tell me you care about this lil old stranger here.”

Needing to remove yourself from this situation, you practically jumped off the couch, trying to play your reaction off with an annoyed eye-roll and a huff.

“Don’t be so full of yourself. I just don’t want you to start bleeding again. Might end up ruining my carpet,” you explained, the words leaving your mouth so quickly, it was a wonder you didn’t stumble over them. You resolved to change the topic entirely.

“Want anything to eat? Drink?”

Without sparing a second, you walked over to the kitchen, idly opening the fridge and looking through it just to keep your mind busy and eyes away from her. The frigid air definitely helped cool down your heated face as well. So that was a nice side effect.

“Vodka on the rocks would be nice,” she quipped. You shook your head, well-aware that she couldn’t see you, hidden away behind the fridge door. Apparently, your silence was answer enough though, because only a few seconds later, she let out a concessive sigh.

“Fine. Water will do.”

Preparing her a glass, you carried it over to the living room area, nudging her foot with your leg to get her to take them off your coffee table. She complied begrudgingly, accepting the glass and draining most of it in one gulp. It was only when you noticed a single droplet running down her chin that you realized you were staring. Again. Very obviously. Immediately you averted your gaze, opting to eyeball the wall in the far distance.

“So, what are you gonna do today? Anything planned?”

What a terrible question.

“Not really,” you saw her shrug out of the corner of your eye, “But I do need to use your radio again. Would you mind grabbing it for me?”

“Uh, sure.”

You spotted the device on the tv cabinet. Handing it over, you made certain that it was plugged in for her, watching the red digits on the small display light up. For a moment you remained in place, observing her as she fumble with it, her forehead creased in concentration. Feeling awkward just standing around, you approached, anxiously rubbing at the back of your neck in search for something to say.

“Can I ask, what exactly is it that you do with it?”

She seemed to mull your question over, before patting the couch cushion next to her.

“Sit. I’ll show you.”

You do, making sure to keep a decent amount of distance between you while still being able to see what she was doing. Natasha showed you how to switch to a shortwave radio station and how to input messages to be transmitted. The static sound filled your apartment again, changing to a couple of high-pitched sounds once in a while when she enters a new code. It was fascinating, something that seemed entirely taken out of an old spy movie.

“So, you’re sending encoded messages to someone?” you summarised her explanation, intrigued, “Do you use morse code for the encryption?”

“Morse code. That’s cute,” Natasha let out a short laugh, shaking her head in amusement. The towel her hair was wrapped somehow stayed in place. She looked up at you with a cocky smile, her eyes meeting yours and taking your breath away for a moment.

“If I wanted all the other agencies in the world to know my location, then yes, I'd use morse code. No, this is my very own code. Only a handful of people know it.”

“Impressive. So this means you’re a spy, right?”, you asked as she continued working on her transmission, “Because this is textbook spy behaviour.”

Natasha didn’t reply. Not that you had expected her to. Yep, definitely a spy. That would also explain her injury and need to lay low for a few days.

“So, do all secret spies have their own encryption codes, or are you just special?”

“Oh, I think you’ll find that I’m very special,” she quipped seriously, not looking up from her task, “Once I'm recovered, I’ll gladly show you my special set of skills up close.”

You blinked, perplexed, cocking your head to the side.

“I’m not sure whether you’re trying to threaten or flirt with me,” you remarked, a frown settling on your face. The redhead turned the radio off, putting it down next to her and looking up at you with a big grin.

“And isn’t that just part of the fun?”

--------

Natasha, it turned out, had quite the talent for coming up with pick-up lines that could double as thinly veiled threats. You did your best not to show how flustered she made you, either changing the subject, feigning ignorance, or trying to come across as exasperated or annoyed instead. To be honest, you did rather enjoy her flirtatious remarks. After all, it wasn’t every day that such a beautiful and quick-witted woman hit on you, even if it was just in jest. She also had something rather mysterious about her that intrigued you. It was probably a spy thing.

She, in turn, seemed to grow more comfortable around you as time passed. Daring to express her emotions more openly without always relying on sarcasm or flirtation. The memory of making her laugh out loud for the first time - a real laugh that had her throwing her head back and crinkling her eyes - was practically ingrained into your mind. Even now, just thinking about it, brought a fond smile to your face and made your heart flutter.

You weren’t stupid. At least you liked to think you weren’t. No, you were fully aware of the fact that you were developing feelings for the secretive redhead. And you knew that it was a terrible idea, that you should fight it. After all, she would be leaving soon and you weren't likely to see her again. But resisting her charms was a lot harder than you had anticipated. Especially, when you had to share your small apartment.

So, instead, you decided to treasure whatever short time you did have with her. You cooked her your favourite dish, blushing when she complimented your skills in the kitchen. The two of you watched several movies huddled together on your couch. You had seen them all before but enjoyed watching her point out all the unrealistic plot points and inconsistencies, only to end up grinning like an idiot at the cheesy happy ending. You also came up with several bad and dorky jokes just to hear her laugh out loud again. It felt nice. Almost domestic and natural.

But in the end, Tuesday came sooner than you had hoped. All night long, you had laid tossing and turning in your bed, dreading what would happen.

The sun was not yet out when you heard the now-familiar sound of radio static coming from your living room. Suddenly very awake, you practically shot out of your bed and hurried out the door.

Natasha was already dressed to leave, hair pulled back into a braid. A few locks had escaped and framed her lovely face. She looked up when she heard you enter, putting the radio aside.

“Morning,” she greeted with a small smile, “You’re up uncharacteristically early. Did I wake you up?"

“It’s fine. Didn't sleep well anyways,” you assured her, brushing a hand through your hair. A moment of silence.

“So. It’s Tuesday, huh?”

“Observant as always. My colleague will be picking me up shortly if that is what you’re asking.”

Dread filled you. While you knew this moment was coming, you suddenly found yourself wholly unprepared for it.

“Then the air is clear again, right? Successfully laid low?”, you asked, fumbling with your hands as you rambled on, “That’s good. Great.”

The redhead quirked an eyebrow at you, shouldering a small duffel bag as she approached you.

“It is indeed great. Means I won’t be targeted the moment I step outside your door,” she commented casually. As if possibly being assassinated wasn’t a big deal.

“Right. Good,” you nodded in agreement, unsure what else to say to that. She stopped directly in front of you, regarding you curiously. Your pulse spiked.

“Need me to check out your wound again? One final examination before you’re dismissed from the hospital?” you offered. Natasha shook her head.

“I’m fine. You did a great job, doc,” she flashed you a big smile, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me these past few days.”

Face growing warm, you make a throw-away motion with your arm.

“No need to thank me. I really enjoyed spending time with you,” you tell her genuinely, meeting her green gaze. Her expression softened. she took another step closer. Your breath hitched at her close proximity.

“Me, too. But I’d still like to express my deep gratitude."

Something mischievous flashed in her eyes. Before you could ask her what she meant, she had already cupped your face and pulled your face to hers.

The moment your lips met, every other thought you had vanished from your mind. Electricity shot through your veins, your skin tingled where she touched you. After a moment you caught yourself and returned the kiss, pressing back against her, your hands carefully settling on her waist.

For a while, nothing else seemed to matter. Breathing, thinking, everything appeared rather trivial in comparison to this feeling of her lips on yours. It wasn't until a loud knock sounded on the door, that you broke apart. You were both breathing hard. Your eyes met and the smile she gave you had to be the most beautiful sight you had ever seen.

“My colleague’s here", she whispered, somehow breaking through the fog in your mind. Right. She was about to leave. You swallow against the lump that formed in your throat. Still unable to find words, you just nod, taking a small step back. You tried to keep the sadness off your face and most likely failed miserably.

To your surprise, she laughed, shaking her head.

“Don’t look so glum. This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“It doesn’t?” you asked hopefully. Natasha gave you a look full of adoration, pulling a small slip of paper from her pocket.

“I'll probably be busy for a few days, but I have nothing planned next week,” she pressed the paper into your palm. Unfolding it, you saw a phone number scribbled on it in blue ink. A big grin overtook your face as she continued.

“I'm sure we can work something out. I'd love to take you out.”

You meet her eyes, butterflies going wild in your stomach.

“Take me out as in on a date, or…?” you asked jokingly.

Wordlessly, she pressed a small kiss to your cheek.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

___________________________________________

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