#misdial

[jhsharman]

Slumber Number

[himitsutsubasa]

Just got a call from a landscape architect. I don’t know how he got my number but it was very much a wrong number.

[banyanas]

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Amphibia (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sasha Waybright/Marcy Wu, Grime & Sasha Waybright, Anne Boonchuy/Sasha Waybright/Marcy Wu (Implied) Characters: Marcy Wu, Sasha Waybright, Grime (Amphibia), Anne Boonchuy Additional Tags: Marcy Wu Needs a Hug, and gets one dw bros, Autistic Marcy Wu, Trans Marcy Wu, Aged-Up Character(s), (15-16 for the purposes of road trip travel), Grand theft auto, as in the crime not the video game, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Road Trips, But not exactly roadtripping for fun, Aftermath of Possession, Sasha and Marcy's guilt and self-worth complexes, they are ignoring problems (said complexes and communicating feelings), and creating problems (petty crime) Summary:

The sky blazed with the fire of Calamity, a bright beacon above grass-woven gravel trails and sun-grayed roads. Heart, Wit, and Strength were once more… Well, they’re on the same planet, at least.

As it turns out, weird magic music boxes don’t have GPS.

[dojunie]

i miss misdial jeno and y/n i feel like its been decades. but i hope ure doing well <3<3 btw i love ur writing style and i wish i could be as good as you or even just a half heh…

misdial is currently at 37k and i open that blasted fic almost every day <3 i promise you she is baking, thank you so so much for sticking around through this genuinely debaucherous hiatus i am putting you all through LOL

for your patience i will insert a blurb under the readmore of a scene in the upcoming ch, and its still in jen pov btw!!!

Back in highschool, when you were a junior and he was a senior, you’d had a short lived obsession with dying your hair. Mark had mentioned it to him in passing, recalling the half a dozen conversations he’d witnessed of you trying to convince your parents to let you bleach it, but he hadn’t really thought about it too seriously until he was over at Mark’s house to work on a project a few weeks later. Your brother, who’s brain stopped working properly when he was hungry, tapped out after about fifteen minutes to hit the convenience store a few blocks away for a pint of ice cream and a few energy drinks. 

It was only after the front door slammed shut that Jeno even realized you were home; he was slouched in Mark’s desk chair scrolling listlessly through his phone when he heard the bedroom door creak open, and turned around expecting your brother. It was not your brother.

It was you. Standing in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights as your eyes met, dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, hair slicked down to your head with cherry red dye— it was all over your hands, splattered down your neck, an artful blob on the tip of your nose.

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like minutes. He hadn’t seen you this close for a few weeks now, since this was around the time that you’d started hanging out with your friends more and were rarely ever home. That was what he blamed for the way his brain seemed to start buffering at the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked.

You stood up straight and hid your hands behind your back like he hadn’t already seen them in all their bloody glory, and said, “I thought you… Left. Just now. With Mark.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. You stared at each other some more. Then, because he wasn’t quite sure what else to do and he’s never really been good at reading a room, he said,“You missed a bit, there. On the top.”

You stiffened, and then your whole body slumped like he’d cut your strings with those ten words alone. “I know. Mark has a little mirror in here somewhere that I was going to steal while he was gone, because I didn’t realize until it was too late that I couldn't see the back of my own head.”

And somehow this ended up with Jeno standing behind you in your bathroom, dutifully brushing red goo into your scalp as you fidgeted and twitched and tried to pretend you weren’t staring at him in the mirror, even though it was very obvious that you were. Jeno pretended, like he’d been doing for the last three years, that he didn’t notice— even if he was finding it a little harder than normal to not stare right back.

Back then, he chalked up his jitters to all of the physical things that were happening in that moment. He credited his desire to stand a little closer to you than necessary to the pleasant scent of cherry coming from the dye in your hair, and blamed the uneven straps on your tank top for the reason his eyes kept drifting to the curve of your shoulders. He was hyper-focusing on the tiny beauty mark below your ear not because he found it fascinating, but because it was easier to keep his eyes trained on that than to risk forgetting what he was doing and finding your eyes in the mirror.

When the dye ran out and your head was sufficiently gooped, he’d been gearing up to ask if you needed help washing it out or something, not quite ready to go back to being strangers just yet, when the sound of the garage door opening whispered through the house and you stiffened. In an instant you were plucking the empty dye bowl from his hands and then herding him out of your bathroom— startled, he turned around to mention his sweater only to find it flying at his chest with enough force to knock him back against the hallway wall. Your eyes were huge as you stood in the bathroom doorway, hand already on the door as if already positioning to slam it shut.

“Don’t tell Mark you helped me,” you said quickly, before blinking very hard a few times, “And— Thank you? This probably would have turned out like shit if you didn’t offer to help me. Thanks.”

Downstairs, the front door opened. Jeno stood there with his balled up sweatshirt in his hands suddenly feeling very odd. Only later did he realize that feeling was hesitance. He didn’t want to go yet. “Why can’t I tell him?” he asked.

“Because Mark’s going to freak out when he sees me, and I don’t want him to get mad at you too for being an accessory to my crime.”

“An accessory to your what?”

“Oh,” you said belatedly. Then you raised your eyebrows at him, lip quirking into an innocent smile that felt like anything but, and his stomach twisted. “Might’ve said too much.”

Your brother's voice rang up the stairs and Jeno made the mistake of turning towards the landing. By the time he turned back to you, mouth opening to speak— even though he wasn’t even sure what he was planning to say— he only caught the last glimpse of your red stained hand through the shutting the door.

Mark returned a few moments later to find Jeno sitting back in the desk chair, back to peering into his phone, but what he probably didn’t notice was that Jeno was really staring at the little, cherry colored splotch on his palm.

I'M IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!!! but for real, thank you for keeping up with these two dumbos........... i will open up my misdial doc in your honor tonight!!!!

[logicgunn]

domaystic 25: misdialed calls

On AO3

Written for @domaystic

“John, can you grab dinner from the mess on your way home?”

“Sure, buddy.”

“And can you swing by the infirmary and ask Jennifer for more of that cream?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s just that I’ll be late with the repairs and I don’t want to have to bother the night shift.”

“Okay.”

“I think Biro is on tonight, and she’s a little too enthusiastic about ringworm, you know?”

“No problemo.”

“She might start taking photos for posterity, and I don’t think I—”

“Rodney, can I suggest you take this conversation to a private channel rather than the citywide comm?”

“…sorry Elizabeth.”

[deathfavor]

@raytm said: “ of course i came. you called me. what’s wrong? “ kisaki to hanma. he listens when hanma calls, surprised dont be.alksjd

reassurance prompts

Hanma is not an easy person to read, though it's through no desire or intention of being difficult to read. Yet his surprise must be obvious on his face for Kisaki to so easily answer to a question never uttered nor words ever formed upon his lips. Part of him almost wonders if he's hallucinating. There were worse things once could hallucinate.

Well shit. Kisaki actually came. Hanma's not sure if the sting from his inevitable irritation at being bothered will hurt more or the sting that might've occurred if Kisaki had never shown up at all. He'll never know.

Hanma's gaze drops down to the glass in his hand, amber liquid chilled with ice. The building is otherwise empty; the owner of the club wise enough to let Hanma be rather than try to shoo him out. He lifts it to his lips an takes a sip before he finally places it on the table.

" We've been doing this a while, huh? " Hanma muses, but he doesn't look at Kisaki. " Say. What kind of funeral do you think a reaper would get? " It's not a funny question but Hanma's lips still twist like he's told a hilarious one and is waiting for the audience to have the grand oh moment of realization. To the ignorant and basic it's an odd, random hypothetical. To others, a more chilling train of thought to be pondered. Only now do his own glowing eyes slide to the corners to peer at Kisaki, glinting in the dim light and making them burn in contrast to the darkness looming.

His lips part like he wants to say more; he doesn't. He tilts his head back with a sigh. " Mmm. Maybe none at all. Guess that'd be rather strange, huh? " He speaks up, eyes shut while he sinks back against the leather. " I think that's always been my assumption. Not that the dead probably care. " His giggles, an eerie sound given the circumstances. It's hollow compared to his usual sound ; only another check to the uncertain tone of the night.

[frangipani-wanderlust]

Tales From Dispatch, Pt. 33

(call comes in on 911) ME: 911, what is the address of the emergency? CALLER: Hello! This is Devin calling for our valued Americard member-- ME: I'm sorry. You've reached 911. Do you have an emergency? CALLER: ...No. Not calling for 911. I am calling for our valued Americard member-- ME:(realizing that a spam telemarketer has gotten to 911 by mistake) No. This is 911 in Metro County. What is the address of the emergency? CALLER: *hangs up*

[blogger360ncislarules]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Luigi's Mansion (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Toad (Nintendo), Luigi (Nintendo) Additional Tags: DoMAYstic 2023, Humor, Phone Calls & Telephones Summary:

An amusing litany of misdialed phone calls

@domaystic

[fundedbydarpa]

Among his other activities, [Steve Wozniak] collects phone numbers, and his longtime goal has been to acquire a number with seven matching digits. But for most of Woz’s life there were no Silicon Valley exchanges with three matching digits, so Woz had to be satisfied with numbers like 221-1111. Then, one day, while eavesdropping on cell phone calls, Woz begin hearing a new exchange: 888. And then, after more months of scheming and waiting, he had it: 888-8888. This was his new cell-phone number, and his greatest philonumerical triumph. The number proved unusable. It received more than a hundred wrong numbers a day. Given that the number is virtually impossible to misdial, this traffic was baffling. More strange still, there was never anybody talking on the other end of the line. Just silence. Or, not silence really, but dead air, sometimes with the sound of a television in the background, or somebody talking softly in English or Spanish, or bizarre gurgling noises. Woz listened intently. Then, one day, with the phone pressed to his ear, Woz heard a woman say, at a distance, “Hey, what are you doing with that?” The receiver was snatched up and slammed down. Suddenly, it all made sense: the hundreds of calls, the dead air, the gurgling sounds. Babies. They were picking up the receiver and pressing a button at the bottom of the handset. Again and again. It made a noise: “Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep.” The children of America were making their first prank call. And the person who answered the phone was Woz.

“The World According to Woz” in Wired (September 1998)

[disasterdrvid]

very weird to get a phone call from someone i haven't spoken to in almost 10 years. either they misdialed or someone died

[bedcorpse]

apparently the phone interview i missed the person called and i never got the call?? im so confused

[yoshistory]

i was so tired earlier calling for my unemployment benefits for the first time that i misdialed the phone number which connected me to a scam line which had the tells of "hello, can you hear me okay?" and "you're qualified for a free expensive life-saving device that can be delivered right to your door" and i was like. uh. is this teleserve? can i be connected to teleserve? the people on the line were so urgent. they were like please sir your address for the device. you're qualified. can you hear me okay?

[banyanas]

ITS WEDNESDAY. of course both of them are shoving down the conversations they actually need to have in order to get on the road but make no mistake! primarily a humor/travel fic but they WILL be subject to Emotional Car Conversations

[dojunie]

∘₊✧──misdial taglist──✧₊∘

current tl:

@hibernatinghamster

@jenoxygen

@eaglesnotravens

@donutswithjaminthemiddle

@jvjsssnaa

@huangrenhyucks

@luvenshiti

@shiningdery

@jaeminsbebu

@aliceinwhateverland

@bebsky

@gem-gem

@jkjkseo

@jenobliss

@pewpewpwe00

@ti-red @philanarose

@softbbyg0rl

@aaasteroidsky

@carelessshootanonymous

@en-boyz

@chilisandmilk

@roseymerrie

@bangchanisemo

@skuezk

@jaehyuns-adorable-dimples

@ourbeautifulaffair

@jeonnyr

 @jvjsssnaa

@episkeyjeno

 @bockhyun

@jenojammin

@zarastrawberry

@peachie-bear

@itadaramaterasu

@ebebesstuff

@cuteejeno

@episkeyjeno

@nohunlee

@ooojisoo

@luv4jeno

@jydivrs

@pinkysinnerbaby

@jenojenoyes

@maeyoung

@axmdocs

@nctzennikki09

@dnylwoo

@https-dandelion

@mystverse

@asterizee

@lijennoow

@jjaegyeom

@forlando

@dreamiestay

perm tl: @gyujunhans

blue means couldn't tag! if you moved blogs and want to be retagged, send me an ask :3

[arc-angel-o]

What's the proper tag for wrong number fics? Is there one?

[burger-goblin]

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