#telephone voicemail message

[toytulini]

abolish voicemails

[izurou]

STOP TELEPHONING ME FT. BLUE LOCK MEN

features: shidou ryusei, michael kaiser, mikage reo, itoshi sae, bachira meguru, and when someone calls you during sex.

contains: female reader. pro! blue lock charas. penetrative sex. oral sex. fingering. semi public for reo and bachira. a creampie from sae. brief filming in shidou’s. she and her pronouns used. you or him are on the phone in all of them so yeah !!

note: these are so long for hcs i am so sorry about that

SHIDOU RYUSEI

one of the sweetest things about ryusei, is that his camera roll is filled to the brim with you.

countless rows of what seems like every image of you ever—screenshots of your instagram stories, all those pictures you’ve sent with the message do i look ok attached, and of course—the dozens of photos he’s snapped of you himself.

sweet indeed—although, he���s still him, and so this habit of his isn’t all innocent admiration and good intentions. he has zero hesitation when it comes to filming you during sex—it’s a nasty side effect of his little obsession and, even nastier, he prefers leaving that type of media on your phone; sweet videos of him with his cock stuffed inside you.

so when he’s doing just that—using your device to record himself fucking you from behind, and the words can i help you suddenly leave his mouth—your heart nearly stops. did he really just? with a reluctant glance over your shoulder, you find him holding your phone up to his ear, grinning. he did.

“ryusei! what the fuck? who’s—” you attempt to scold him through an aggressive whisper, but get cut off by your own gasp when he pushes down on the side of your head—forcing your cheek flat against the mattress. he rolls his hips forwards with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but melt into the cotton sheets and moan when he does so—being effortlessly tamed by the thickness of his cock.

“oh? you sure you wanna talk to her? she’s a little busy right now,” he sneers into the receiver, grin tripling in both size and arrogance when he looks down and sees your face—scrunched up in pure ecstasy as you fist the fabric on either side of your head. yeah, busy being all fucking his.

nevertheless, he thinks it’d be rude of him to not transfer the call over—this person went through the effort of dialling your number, after all.

so he tucks your phone between his shoulder and his ear, and uses both hands to pull you upright—flush against his chest. with his left hand latching onto your throat, and his right now holding your phone a couple inches from your ear, he purrs, “it’s for you, babydoll. wanna say hi?”

there’s a beat of silence, and then you hear it, a voice seething with anger—one that belongs to none other than your ex boyfriend. shit.

you’re holding your breath now—hoping that if you can remain silent, he’ll give up on his attempt to reach you altogether. a decent plan—but not for someone who’s currently dating the world’s biggest instigator. “c’monnnn, at least tell him how good your boyfriend’s fuckin’ you.”

he hums in content as his left hand travels south—between your tits and eventually, onto your clit. he uses his middle finger to rub tight circles, and with his cock still pressing kisses to your sensitive spots, with his tongue dancing across your neck—a whine slips out from between your lips.

and your ex hangs up—spewing a few unsavoury comments about your boyfriend before doing so.

“awwww, we were just getting to the best part,” ryusei whines, but he doesn’t stay down for long. “get ready to cum for me baby, and don’t fuckin’ hold back. we’re gonna leave him a voicemail.”

MICHAEL KAISER

when it comes to you, michael is both equal parts selfish and selfless.

he’s great at sharing. everything from his clothing to his habits—routines he’s stuck with for years, changed, because he wants his luxe life to be something you can experience with him.

like tonight, for instance—where a past version of himself would have returned home from practice, and immediately gotten into a hot bath to loosen his sore muscles. present him is in fact relaxing in a hot bath after a rather shit practice, but present him also has a pretty girl to help him wind down.

and while your boyfriend has no problem sharing with you, hell would freeze over before he’d share you. you’re his, and though he seldom allows his possessive behaviour to control him—it seems to linger on his shoulders nonetheless, particularly after a bad day.

you’re doing your best to lift his spirits—bouncing on his cock, pressing needy kisses along his inked neck—when your phone starts buzzing against the tiled ledge surrounding the tub. he knows you’ve been expecting an important call, but he doesn’t want you to stop—he’s not going to let you stop. even so, he’d be a pretty bad boyfriend if he ignored the call altogether, so he’ll answer it himself—seeing as you’re preoccupied.

“hello?” his voice is smooth, nonchalant—a little too much so. you still your movements, watching expectantly as michael’s gaze shift to yours. he smiles before continuing, as if he’s softening the impending blow. “an interview? sure, let me pass you to her.”

his eyes darken ever so slightly as he holds your phone out, mouthing the words take it.

you obey your boyfriend’s command with a little too much confidence—bringing the device up to your ear and barely managing a hello of your own before michael has you cupping a hand over your mouth with a sharp thrust of his hips. he doesn’t stop there either—grabbing onto your waist tight, more or less holding you still as he begins fucking into you at a steady pace.

“uh, i-i’m,” your mind goes blank as the voice of your potential employer rings in your ears with a simple question—what does your availability look like? michael is eavesdropping of course, sucking feverishly at the delicate skin on your neck as he strains to hear the conversation.

“monday through friday my love, isn’t that right?” he purrs into your opposite ear—handing you the answer on a silver platter. he wants you to get at least one response out before he inevitably, but indirectly ends the call. maybe it’s his sour mood tainting his train of thought, but the future where you have a job—is one where you have less time for him, less time for this. he doesn’t want that. “because you’re all mine on the weekends, aren’t you? such a precious girl, letting me fuck you like this. i don’t know what i’d do without you, baby.”

the words drip from his mouth like honey, sweet and genuine. it’s times like these that prove how scary love is, because in the heat of the moment—you’re convinced that you don’t really want this job, that all you want is to be his.

the water sloshes against the walls of the bathtub as you crumble onto his shoulder with a whine—phone silent and blank as it sits uselessly in your hand. michael runs his palms up and down your back in an attempt to soothe the upset he just assisted in—cock jumping when you sit up and pout at him.

“you’ll definitely get the next one, my love. in the meantime, this can be your full time job,” he grins—smug, but not insincere in the slightest. “you’re already a perfect fit.”

MIKAGE REO

reo, prim and proper at first glance—the perfect textbook gentleman, is anything but.

he has the courteous mannerisms down to a tee, all charming smiles and soft touches as he opens the door to his luxurious car—holding out a hand to help you inside. once you’re seated, he’ll do an adorable little jog over to the driver’s side because—keeping a pretty girl waiting just isn’t right.

his chivalry ends there though, because a parking lot is the perfect place for you to suck him off, he thinks.

and oh, how absolutely perfect you are—leaned over the centre console with your tongue swirling around his tip. he can’t help but pant a little as he lets his head fall back against the seat.

but his euphoria is short lived, because the sound of your ringtone fills his vehicle almost as quickly as it kills the mood—bluetoothed and displaying a name on the dashboard’s touch screen. seishiro. reo figures he’s only calling you to ask about him, but it’s awfully late, and while he has no reason to distrust his best friend—he finds himself curious, wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation.

so, he taps his finger on the little green button.

“ynnn,” nagi’s voice emanates from the speakers—syllables drawn out and on the whinier side. you peer up at reo, and he’s looking down at you, eyes heavy with anticipation as he waits for a follow up. “are you with reo?”

your boyfriend visibly relaxes upon hearing that—and with his curiosity fed, he reaches forward to hang up, but—you swat his hand away.

“no, why? what’s up?” you hold eye contact with reo as you speak—ghosting your lips over his tip before licking up his shaft and taking him back into your mouth. you’re hoping that nagi will start to ramble, because if he does—reo will have to stay quiet, or at least attempt to.

and nagi happens to want an unreleased game, one that reo could pull a few strings and get his hands on if he wanted to—all things the voice on the other end is in the midst of explaining. he’s mere background noise though, because your attention is solely on reo and his cock.

you hold him near the base, using your hand to pump whatever your mouth can’t accommodate. reo shifts in his seat—biting down on the knuckle of his index finger as he goes one on one against the urge to buck up into your face, because that’d really conjure up a sinful sound.

and reo worries he might draw blood when you hum against him—sending vibrations throughout the length of his cock, and oh fuck, he’s so close. his brows knit together as he taps frantically on the screen—ending the call. he cums seconds later, head thrown back in pleasure as he groans and gasps through his orgasm.

“c’mere,” he breathes heavily—cupping your face in his hands and crashing his lips onto yours for a messy kiss. “you wanna sit on it, sweetheart? we can head to the backseat.”

ITOSHI SAE

it might not seem like it, but there’s nowhere sae would rather be on his day off than here.

sitting on a small padded bench inside the private fitting room of a store, with you straddling his lap in a little floral mini dress. he figures that if he’s going to blow this much money on so little fabric, he might as well trial the garment’s true purpose—sex whenever and wherever he wants.

and now, as he watches you grind down onto the growing bulge in his pants—dress bunched up at your waist with one of the straps slipping off your shoulder, he can definitely see himself getting his money’s worth.

he’s just getting into it—running his hands over your ass and hips, tangling his fingers around the lace of your panties—when your phone starts to ring. at first, neither of you even acknowledge the sound, but it persists with a second call, and out of his peripherals—sae sees his manager’s name sitting the top of the screen. great, so much for your alone time.

“hello?” your voice is soft, and yet it still manages to catch your boyfriend off guard. during his brief sulk, you’ve not only answered the call, but put it on speaker as well. “is everything alright?”

the words i need to talk to sae come through, and you feel the breeze from his eye roll. you run your fingers through the hair at the back of sae’s head, pulling him a little closer as you continue to move your hips. he nuzzles into your neck soon after—eyes heavy as he watches your movements in the floor to ceiling mirror directly across from him.

“sorry, no can do. you know he needs the break,” you hum into the receiver, and you swear sae’s grip on you tightens. he loves it when you defend him like this—he thinks it’s hot.

so hot—he just can’t keep it in his pants anymore. he’s unbuttoning and unzipping—pushing fabric out of the way until his cock is springing free, and finally, he’s sinking into your cunt.

a breathy fuck falls from his lips as he leans his head back against the wall—staring up at you like you’re some kind of deity, which—in this dress, just might be true. his nails carve into your hips as he drags you along his shaft, and oh—it’s so easy for him to get carried away when you’re hugging him so tight.

“he’ll call you first—first thing in the morning.” you fumble over your words a little when the head of sae’s cock presses against a sensitive spot, but you get the response you wanted nonetheless—a that’s good thank you, and the call ends there.

a reward worthy performance, he thinks.

“oh god, sae,” you whine—and he buries his face back into the crook of your neck, recognizing the familiar knot unraveling just below his waist. his teeth sink into your shoulder, and he cums hard, breathing heavy against your skin as he watches the mirror’s reflection through hooded lids—staring intently as white starts to leak out of you, and down the side of his cock.

“careful, you’re gonna ruin the dress,” he mutters—knowing full well that the sticky mess is all him. “guess i have to buy it now, huh?”

BACHIRA MEGURU

meguru’s fatal flaw is his attention span, or rather—his lack thereof.

the dinner reservation was at seven—a table for four. you, him, and two representatives from a sports brand that’s interested in sponsoring him.

it’s a few minutes past the hour, and the other duo is evidently running a little late—no big deal, but your boyfriend thinks otherwise. he’s sitting with his chin in his palm, twirling a straw around his fingers, and crumbling under the weight of his boredom. unfortunately, you don’t think this is an establishment that’d have a colouring page and some crayons for him, but not to worry—he’s just found something else to entertain himself.

“meguru, behave,” you shoot him a glance as he scoots closer—hearing him mutter a yes ma’am, but still feeling his hand beneath your skirt a few seconds later. he brushes his middle finger over the thin fabric of your panties—gently rubbing over your clit before he begins tracing what you think are hearts onto your cunt.

your gaze floods with desire—a look that meguru knows well, and loves dearly. he’s getting excited now, tail wagging with delight, because he knows that you’ll let him continue—so long as he doesn’t make it obvious to anyone in the room.

this means that, when one of the representatives suddenly starts calling you, he technically doesn’t have to behave.

“hello?” you bring your phone up to your ear, and at the same time—meguru’s hand slips past the waistband of your panties. he sighs in content—slouching back in his seat and lolling his head to the side. you’d almost think he was the one being touched. “w-what? you can’t find it?”

ah, so you’re saying they’re lost—which loosely translates to you have more time to play. good.

using his index and ring finger to spread you open—he sinks his middle into your warm cunt, curling it upwards and moving his hand side to side a bit. meanwhile, the voice on the other line is begging for directions, and you’re struggling to give them.

you lean into meguru’s side and hold his wrist—not to stop his movements, but to limit them, at least until you manage to get off the phone. but your boyfriend—sweet as pie and smart when it’s convenient for him, presses a kiss to your temple, and decides that he’ll take care of it for you.

“look for the big arena tour billboard, we’re right below that. see you soon,” he leans in and hums happily into your phone, and the rep thanks him before hanging up. with time now running out, he brings all three of his fingers up to your clit, where he rubs tight circles. “mmm, i don’t wanna stop, baby. wanna make you cum.”

“megs, that’s them!” you squeak—spotting two well dressed, important looking people scurrying past a window on the opposite side of the room. you claw at meguru’s wrist—but his fingers stay glued to your clit for as long as possible, and he ends up pulling away mere seconds before they round the corner.

he’s all innocent smiles and waves as the two approach the table—not so subtly licking up the side of his middle finger, which—wouldn’t be so awful if there were more than just drinks on your table. either way, it’s swept under the rug, and the four of you begin introducing yourselves while looking over the menu.

and your phone is on silent at this point, but it lights up with one new message from meguru.

bathroom in 5? <3 i know what i wanna eat ;)

[thatbadadvice]

Help! The Woman I Have Been Stalking for Years Is Disinclined to Engage With Me

Carolyn Hax, WaPo, 1 June 2023 (originally 11 March 2009):

Dear Carolyn: About five years ago, I began to realize that a woman I dated 25 years earlier was someone I had stronger feelings for than I was mature enough to appreciate at the time. I had questions for her about why we hadn’t blossomed into the kind of relationship I now think we both believe we were destined for. In the past five years, I’ve continued to have those questions, then dreams, etc., which led me to do a paid search for her address. I wrote her twice and left a voice mail. My messages have been about old friends I bumped into who reminded me of her, what I’ve been doing and how I’d like to hear from her. That is, nothing too serious or about what’s been on my mind. I haven’t received an answer. I’ve thought through the reasons she hasn’t corresponded, and why I needed to talk with her, and am still at a loss. Would asking her my questions directly in a letter be a way to coax her to reconnect? Telling her that, apart from this midlife crisis of mine, I’m happily married and successful, and that all I want are answers? -- A 30-year-old question

Dear 30-Year-Old Question,

One might expect a happily married person to do all kinds of things, but topmost among them is paying to find the contact information of an ex-girlfriend and sending said ex-girlfriend multiple unanswered messages, repeatedly and through a variety of means, over the course of many years in the hopes of deceiving her into heady conversations about the details of your long-ended relationship. Yes indeed, when the Bad Advisor thinks of "normal stuff a person who's very happy in their marriage would do," her mind immediately goes to "pretending to ask innocuous questions about old friends in the hope that a woman I dated 30 years ago believes I am solely and only asking her innocent questions about old friends, when in fact I am explicitly and admittedly not."

Women are famously unable to clock the intentions of men, who are very clever, extremely stealthy, and never creepy or dangerous to the extent that they would unsettle people from whom they have demanded interaction and who have time and time again ignored them. Probably this woman received your incredibly blasé letters and voicemail and thought: "Gosh, it seems like this dude who deuced out on me three decades ago is trying to rope me into responding to him multiple times despite my obvious disinclination to engage only and exclusively on the subject of our old friends, what a boring conversation, I shan't respond unless he sends me a lengthy bit of written correspondence detailing his many thoughts and feelings about how our romance ended, I simply can't imagine having a conversation with him unless I know for absolute certain he wants to rehash what happened between us, which is the only possible way I could fathom entertaining such a reconnection, one which I would never have reason to pursue otherwise, as I am so desperately in love with him and have been lo these 30 years but could not in good conscience find a way to broach the subject unless he sends me just one more letter finally making his bonerful intentions plain, that sly dog."

Might you have neglected to include a return address on the previous correspondence about which you were extremely desperate, but in a very casual way, to receive a response? Does your ex-girlfriend own the only cellular telephone on earth that does not log the return-call number of people who leave voicemails? Mayhap she simply does not know how to contact you after multiple attempts over half a decade! These are highly probable reasons she has not sought you out! Vastly more likely than the fact that she sees entirely the fuck through your pretenses and wants nothing to do with you whatsoever.

If you wish to receive a concrete answer about the status of your relationships, your best hope is to CC your spouse on any future correspondence. I think you can expect a prompt response.

[gojonatr]

home ☆

synopsis: geto disappears, but randomly appears at gojo's door a few months later.

tags: graphic description, implied character death, angst w no comfort.

word count: 1k

note: this was originally something i wrote up w original characters but i thought it fit stsg so well i tweaked it a lil' bit :)

divider credit @/cafekitsune

something in satoru’s gut told him to call suguru. to make sure that he was okay.

the elder of the pair went out of town for the weekend, something urgent with his family, but he promised to text satoru when he got there. his thumbs were heavy as they hovered over the call button, glossy eyes rereading their text messages, satoru wishing suguru safe travels and exchanging their i love you’s.

with a deep sigh, he pressed down on the small telephone symbol, placing the phone up to hear his only to be met with suguru’s voicemail.

“hello! this is suguru, i'm not able to answer, but send me a text or call back later, and i'll get to you." something wasn’t right, he knew that suguru would be available right now, he’d probably be bored out of his mind. this made him really uneasy, his heart dropping to his stomach and his breath short, but he couldn’t help but to try calling again.

“hello! this is su-”

and again.

“hello!-”

and again.

“hel-”

until it seemed pointless. it was clear that suguru wasn’t going to answer any of his calls, no matter how frantic they seemed. it was going straight to voicemail for a reason. maybe his phone was off. maybe he had do not disturb on. maybe it died. maybe he died.

the days passed slowly as satoru waited for any sign of life from him. no calls, no texts, no social media posts. sometimes he’d pretend that this was all a bad dream and text suguru about his day, asking about his as well.

at some point it started turning into seeing suguru in public.

at first, he knew that there was no way in hell that it could have been him inspite the twinge of hope that he was holding onto. there was nothing to solidify that thought. the second suguru’s long and dark hair came into view, it was gone within a second. it was like a magic trick.

it was a cruel trick that satoru’s brain was playing on him and if he didn’t know any better, he would run after these apparitions of suguru.

a part of him didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that his best friend was gone. a big part of him, really. he wanted to cave into his thoughts and live in the world where suguru was still around. things would be easier, he wouldn’t have to pretend that he was okay.

there’s never been anything in his entire life that has made his heart ache this much. no death, no inconvenience. nothing. suguru was his world and it was hell managing without him. wrapping his mind around living in a world where his best friend didn’t exist seemed impossible.

about a week after his initial disappearance, suguru showed up at satoru’s door. the knock took him out of his sleep, tired eyes scanning the room for his glasses before getting up and going to the door. the peephole didn’t even cross his mind, immediately going to unlock the wooden door and pulling it open. once his eyes landed on suguru, it was like his world mended back together.

was it really suguru? it couldn’t be. why would he come to his door in such a state? he was drenched, clothes tattered and worn. his face drained of all life and color. he looked sickly. beneath some of the rips on his clothes, there were deep gashes and blood dripping; some of these wounds looked fresh.

satoru had to take a second to ground himself before he grabbed the other and gently urged him into his apartment. there were so many questions that he could ask him at this moment, but he knew better than to do so. suguru was waiting in a wooden chair for satoru, shivering from the cold.

“suguru… i’ve been looking everywhere for you. i mean- i was calling and texting everyday hoping that you’d just broken your phone but this is just.. this is so much wor-”

“satoru,” the other male spoke. his voice was cold, blunt. it sent goosebumps up satoru’s skin and a shiver down his spine. this was very uncharacteristic of the gentle man. suguru didn’t even bother looking at the other, his eyes glued to his knees, “shut up. just shut up.”

scared to say anything more, he simply nodded and walked away to get the other a blanket.

maybe it was the circumstances of his disappearance, but suguru never left satoru’s dorm and he never returned to his old activities. his days were just spent holed up in their now shared room, reading and drawing when inspiration struck. of course, satoru didn’t mind this at all. his best friend was back home, back in his arms.

the pair were cuddled up on the couch watching the news, something that they’d been doing fairly recently as suguru had taken a liking to the reports. nothing ever interesting was on, satoru didn't understand why suguru liked it so much. except a few days ago, they reported a body that’d been found washed up on the shore of okinawa.

the screen changed from a puppy learning to walk for the first time to an orange banner that read, “URGENT REPORT”. this peaked both satoru and suguru’s reaction, the latter of the two looking over worriedly at the former. suguru, however, his face was drained of all color. it’s almost as if he looked guilty, his eyes wide and fingers white gripping the blanket as he awaited for the news reporter to start speaking.

a swoosh from the tv interrupted satoru’s observation, his heart pounding in his ears with anticipation. if suguru wasn’t next to him, then he’d have already started wondering if he was the victim.

“the body that was found by the northern bshore of okinawa has been identified. the victim was found on december 24, 2023, in a barely recognizable state. we’ve been informed that the victim was suguru geto, who was age 28 and kyoto resident. if you have any information that could be of help, please call the kyoto police department or okinawa police department. may god rest his soul.”

[madhattersez]

Hell yeah! Had an awesome find at a thrift shop today - A 1929 Southwestern Bell Telephone technical manual and installation guide for phones of the era.

Maybe you're asking why I think this is awesome? Haha. That makes sense - Well, first of all, I -live- vintage stuff. Antiques, old books, weird ephemera of the past. This definitely fits in with all of that, and has a gorgeous, punched leather cover with the gold stamping. Such a slick piece of history.

Second, I'm an old computer nerd cat. Back in the early '90s, I was a phone phreak - a phone hacker back before mobile phones and even alphanumeric pagers were a thing. It was in these days that "Ma Bell" (Southwestern Bell) was a big Queen on the scene, in her prime.

What were common phreaker practices back in the day? Well, it was all about exploration and curiosity. We would wardial (using our home landline connections and modems to dial a huge list of numbers in a row to try and find systems on the other end rather than regular phones - I'd leave it on all day and come back with a shorter list of various systems to dial in and play around on), we would build blue (and other color) boxes from RadioShack parts to use payphones to make free calls and do all sorts of rad tricks, we would prank folks that deserved it or use said tricks to disrupt schools and business, we would navigate voicemail systems and change automatic messages, and we would generate credit card numbers (which was incredibly easy back in the day) to make free calls to our first girlfriends in Canada. Well, that last one was mostly a me thing, haha.

Basically, payphones and early phone systems were a wonderful, incredible playground for me and I have SO many fond memories of these times. To have a book like this in my hands feels like I just looked inside the Ark of the Covenant and instead of melting my face off, it just glowed real bright and whistled a 2600hz tone sweetly into my ears.

This has so many cool photos like the ones above, and lots of radical technical diagrams, too.

As a bonus, there are hand-typed notes from a division head telephone engineer that wrote about systems they were building in Galveston, TX in the '60s:

Anyways, this is such a cool relic and I'll probably not be able to bring myself to sell it.

Did you know I wrote a verse about being a phreaker for a song with Nerdcore legend YTCracker wayyyyyy back in 2010? Well, now you do. You can hear that here (I'm the second dude, of course):

[themculibrary]

Texting Masterlist

After the Tone (ao3) - bozuri (Poljupci) G, 1k

Summary: Peter sort of, kind of accidentally forgot his half-finished lab report at the Tower the other day. There began the tricky, convoluted and delicate process of trying to arrange for his report to be returned to him in a timely manner.

or: Nobody calls these days. Voicemails are (somehow) still a thing. And Tony is exasperated(ly fond) beyond belief.

All's Fair in Love and Basketball (ao3) - janonny steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Tony is hiding in his workshop and his teammates are hassling him with text messages after a game of basketball with Steve goes wrong. Can’t a bunch of superheroes let a fellow superhero lick his injured pride in peace?

Beat That (ao3) - AuroraWest loki/stephen E, 2k

Summary: It's morning in New Asgard and the middle of the night in New York City, but that doesn't stop Loki and Stephen from having a…stimulating conversation via text, complete with photos.

Booty call (ao3) - Just_Bill steve/tony M, 3k

Summary: Tony inadvertently messages the wrong number, thinking he's chatting with someone he met on Grindr. It's Steve's luckiest break all week.

Crossing all the Lines (ao3) - Cobrafantasies sam/bucky E, 9k

Summary: Sexting, phone sex and the real thing. Sam and Bucky cross all the lines.

eat or be eaten (ao3) - TheSistersBread G, 1k

Summary: Accidentally messaging MJ when Tony Stark turns up in his apartment is the best mistake of Peter’s life.

OR

Peter trolls Tony Stark with his two enablers- I mean friends. Tony just doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

Grilled (ao3) - cincoflex pepper/tony T, 975

Summary: Texts between two people on two different levels.

If You Need Me (ao3) - poetically_ordinary steve/tony, wanda/vision G, 1k

Summary: Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting fully when he sent Tony the letter and the phone, but it's safe to say that this wasn't it.

Lightbulb (ao3) - smol_bird peter/wade, background steve/tony T, 8k

Summary: wHY THE HELL ARE YOU TEXTING STRANGERS AT 2 AM WITH LIGHTBULB JOKES?!

I’ll do you one better: why the hell are you responding to strangers who text you at 2 am with lightbulb jokes?

---

The one in which Peter Parker was brought up not to talk to strangers but does it anyway; and hey, it's not like it goes too badly.

No Place I Can Be (ao3) - tictactoesws steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: When Steve leaves at the end of the movie, Tony slips him a phone with his number programmed into it. A story of resolving issues through excessive texting and (eventually) Halloween costumes.

Peter Parker Is Night Monkey (NOT CLICKBAIT!!) (ao3) - vague_witchy_powers mj/peter, ned/betty G, 12k

Summary: The events of Spider-Man: Far From Home, as told through the text messages of Peter Parker and his friends.

While Peter has to save the world, navigate grief and stress and anxiety, and try to tell MJ how he feels... his classmates set out to prove that he is Spider-Man.

Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell just want to get everybody home alive.

So Parker's a Stripper... (ao3) - VaguelyAnnoyedWriter T, 2k

Summary: The Academic Decathlon tries to figure out Peter’s secret. They come to the wrong assumption...

Telephone (Long Distance Love Affair) (ao3) - kiss_me_cassie clint/natasha T, 2k

Summary: I fucking love you! I would reciprocate the feeling if i knew who this was.

And the rest, as they say, was history...

Texting Gone Wild (ao3) - Sparcina loki/tony, steve/bucky E, 1k

Summary: Tony clicked on ‘Sent Messages’. There, just below that text to ‘Cap’, was…

1h55. Tony: God, Steve, I want Loki so much. Preferably on top, fucking me brainless. I don’t even mind if it hurts.

He had sent that goddamn message, he really had. But not to Steve. He shook his head, trying to shuffle the letters in some other order, but L, O, K, I didn’t form that many meaningful anagrams. Ikol? Okil? Loik?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” The irony was not lost on him. He was going to die tonight, thrown through another fucking window, because he was texting the wrong guy.

In which Tony texts his (lethal, godly) crush instead of his friend, and it's both a mistake and the best idea he's had in a very, very long time.

The Baffling Case of Theo G (ao3) - lcy2 N/R, 1k

Summary: spiderman: THERE ARE MULTIPLE QUICKSILVERS????????

scarletwitch: this is far more entertaining than expected

—

short chat fic that’s exactly as self-indulgent as my other works.

think of me once in a while (ao3) - etoileslarmoyantes sam/bucky N/R, 1k

Summary: He sits on his couch and takes his phone out of his pocket. "11 new texts from Sam" is what the screen indicates. He takes a deep breath in and opens his message's app. -- or : after Steve died, Bucky secluded himself and Sam tries to be here for him nevertheless.

Where Your Heart Lies (ao3) - Shuufleur tony/bucky T, 2k

Summary: After the Accords, everything was a mess. Then Tony received a lot of files. Then he and Barnes were texting. Then things started to get better.

who needs sleep when you have family? (ao3) - starkskypines G, 3k

Summary: Mr. Stark had said that Peter wouldn’t be coming into Stark Industries on his spring break. He was a kid, he needed to live a little, or something like that. Peter didn’t know how to explain that going to Stark Industries was fun, so he agreed to not come in this week. So there shouldn’t be five missed text messages on his phone from Mr. Stark.

Peter opens those first as he wanders through the apartment toward the kitchen.

What do you think the life expectancy for cats would be on a world with a different gravity level? Like longer or shorter? We think too much gravity would be detrimental right? The daily wear and tear, but what if it’s not? What if it affects cats differently? Cats are weird little freaks. You can’t trust them. They’ll stab you in the back. But they’re also great cuddlers when they choose. Humph. Maybe I should start calling Natasha a cat.

Had Mr. Stark actually typed out the word “humph?” And did he just imply that the Black Widow is a cuddler?

or: Tony texts Peter while sleep-deprived. hilarity ensues.

works of modern art (ao3) - notcaycepollard sam/bucky E, 1k

Summary: About a minute after sending the text (you like what you see, sweetheart?) his phone vibrates.

why the fuck did you text me a picture of your dick, Barnes

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh fucking Christ, no.

holy shit i am so sorry, he sends hurriedly, wrong number i swear to god, we don’t have to talk about it or mention it ever again. for the love of god please don’t tell Steve.

no, man, we’re cool, Sam replies, and Bucky feels himself breathe, relax back a little against his pillows.

thanks, he types in. Thinks about what else to add, and while he’s hesitating, another text comes through from Sam.

you know, not that I’m criticizing or anything, but you can do better than that pic, Barnes.

Wrong But Right (ao3) - merelypassingtime clint/bucky T, 1k

Summary: In which Bucky receives a text from a wrong number and doesn’t mind at all.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jason Wilson at The Guardian:

A Guardian investigation has identified former University of California, Irvine (UCI) lecturer Jonathan Keeperman as the man behind the prominent “new right” publishing house Passage Press and the influential Twitter persona Lomez. The identification is based on company and property records, source interviews and open-source online materials. The reporting has revealed that Keeperman’s current status as a key player and influential tastemaker in a burgeoning proto-fascist movement came after years of involvement in far-right internet forums.

Much of that journey coincided with his time at one of the country’s most well-regarded writing programs: Keeperman first came to UCI as a master of fine arts (MFA) student, and was also a lecturer in the English department from 2013 to 2022, according to public records. The emergence of Passage Press and other such publishers has been a key part of the development of a swathe of the current American far right, which is seeking to capture US institutions – or develop far-right equivalents – as part of a political and cultural war against what it sees as the dominance of a liberal “regime” in America. In a June 2023 podcast interview, Keeperman characterized Passage Press and its literary prize as part of this effort to “build out alternative infrastructure, alternative institutions”.

It is a fight wholeheartedly embraced by Donald Trump and his supporters in the Republican party, especially in their railing against “the deep state” and promises of retribution should Trump win the 2024 presidential election. The Guardian repeatedly contacted Keeperman requesting comment on this reporting, at a personal Gmail address and a Passage Press address, and left a voicemail message at a telephone number that data brokers listed as belonging to Keeperman, but which carried a message identifying it as belonging to a member of his household.

[...]

Scary ideas – and wanting to be recognized

Passage Press books include a Tucker Carlson-blurbed anthology of writings by “human biodiversity” influencer Steve Sailer; a similar retrospective from “neo-reactionary” guru Curtis Yarvin; and a print version of the biannual Man’s World. Like many other far-right publishers, Passage’s list is bolstered by reprints of out-of-print or public-domain books by historical fascist and reactionary writers. These include books by radical German nationalist and militarist Ernst Jünger; Peter Kemp, who fought as a volunteer in Franco’s army during the Spanish civil war; and two counter-revolutionary Russian aristocrats, White Russian general Pyotr Wrangel and Prince Serge Obolensky.

[...] Passage Press differs from many others in its niche in offering new work by the contemporary far-right’s intellectual celebrities, and in curating in-person events and a far-right literary award. The publisher also produces high-end limited editions of selected titles. The “patrician edition” of Noticing, a book by Sailer, for example, is “bound in genuine leather, gold-foil stamping” and “Smyth-sewn book block”, according to the website. Though lavishly produced, the “patrician” offerings appear to have generated significant income for Passage. At the time of reporting, Passage had sold out its limited run of 500 patrician editions of Noticing at $395 apiece, according to the website. This equates to some $195,000 in revenue. An earlier patrician edition of winning entries in the 2021 Passage prize sold 250 editions at $400 apiece, according to the website, representing another $100,000 in revenue. The publication of Noticing – also available as a $29.95 paperback – was spun out into a series of in-person events in Austin, Los Angeles, Miami and New York City, held in March, April and May.

The Guardian reveals that the identity of far-right X account Lomez belongs to UCLA lecturer Jonathan Keeperman.

[penvisions]

dev's march recap

i know this is a few days early but i'm about to be absent all weekend getting some essays done for school and trying to get ahead on my readings. it's been a weird month, not gonna lie. was really into getting a new series started and ending another but i lost focus and interest in the one winding down. which i hate, because i love my frankie fic but just feel so disconnected from it. anons and hurtful messages have messed with my vibes lately. it's been affecting my time here and i haven't been engaging much beyond likes. hoping april is much kinder ♡

i hope everyone finds the perfect fic for their reading pleasure and the days have been good to y'all! ♡

new chapters:

return the favor chapter 22

the melting point chapter 17

of beskar and kyber chapter 16 || chapter 17 || chapter 18

by the grit of sandpaper chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3

garnish better together drabble

new fic ideas:

gone to the dogs - boston qz! joel miller x f! reader

milestones:

hit a follower milestone, 1500, baby! ♡

doing well in my class so far!

word count: 62.1k (holy cow!!)

got my cowboy dean winchester tattoo finished up!

announced and started my new series by the grit of sandpaper

reading by dev:

voicemails by @undercoverpena

hanging on the telephone by @macfrog

do me yourself by @undercoverpena

a baker's dozen - ezra by @avastrasposts

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

CYOA Snippet

From: Paul Barfleet <pauliebigfleet@yahoo.com> To: Lily Evans <Lily.Evans@spiceasnice.com> Sent: Wednesday 23rd February, 2022, 09:11 GMT

Subject: Missing items

Wendy said to email you and ask you where the panini press is it was missing from the kitchen yesterday and wasn't in your bedroom when I went in to look for it did you give it away or sell it? You're not supposed to remove an appliance we all use, an appliance that resides in the shared kitchen area is a shared appliance. Kindly return it to its usual cupboard at your earliest convenience.

*

From: Lily Evans <Lily.Evans@spiceasnice.com> To: Paul Barfleet <pauliebigfleet@yahoo.com> CC: Wendy Wilde <Wendy.Wilde@royalandwest.co.uk>, Celeste Lewandowska <celestelewandowska75@gmail.com> Sent: Wednesday 23rd February, 2022, 10:42 GMT

Subject: RE: Missing items

Hi Paul,

Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.

As I'm sure you are aware, I make a habit of locking my bedroom door whenever I am not going to be present in the flat we share at 2 Claylands Road, London, SW8 1NY. Furthermore, I distinctly recall locking my bedroom door on the morning of Tuesday 22nd February 2022, shortly before I departed for work*. At the time of my departure, I observed from the familiar sound of your monstrous snoring that you were still asleep in the room you share with Wendy, so I have no choice but to conclude that this unauthorised visit to my room took place after I left the flat. I found my bedroom door to be locked when I returned home. As there were no signs of forced entry that I could observe, I must also conclude that you are in possession of a spare key to my room that you are not permitted to have without authorisation from myself or from our landlord, per the renewed tenancy agreement we all signed when you moved in on Friday 8th October 2021.

Needless to say, I have never given you permission to enter my room or make a copy of my room key, so you can imagine my confusion upon learning that you have, in fact, been poking around in there.

I then decided to telephone Celeste to ascertain the truth, and she has confirmed that she did not grant you permission to enter my room or possess an extra key. She also confirmed that the only spare key to my bedroom that she is aware of is currently in her possession. She is quite happy to confirm the same with you and Wendy, and will be calling you both shortly to request the return of the spare key.

As I have suffered no material loss following this act of trespass, there is no legal action that I can take against you, however I feel it incumbent upon me to warn you that any further attempts to enter my bedroom without permission from myself or Celeste can be construed as harassment. Furthermore, Celeste has agreed to employ the services of a locksmith to change the lock on my door as a preventative measure. Again, she will explain this to you and Wendy when she calls you later this morning.

As for the panini press, I will not be returning it to the kitchen. The panini press is not yours. The panini press is not Wendy's. The panini press was never a shared appliance. The panini press belonged solely to me. Neither of you have ever made a single monetary contribution towards the panini press, which I allowed you to use in the spirit of being a good housemate until I gave it to a friend who was in need of one. The panini press is now his property.

Again, I must thank you for bringing this serious matter to my attention.

Regards,

Lily Evans

Assistant to the CEO

*a place where you go to earn money

*

iPhone Notification Centre

Phone Wendy Wilde Voicemail

Phone Wendy Wilde Missed Call (6)

WhatsApp Wendy Wilde Lily will you please pick up

WhatsApp Kingsley Shacklebolt Yesterday's Wordle was fucking stupid. Done with it.

Instagram[rubyraptor] James Potter Liked a message that you sent 

*

Private WhatsApp Chat Resumed: Wednesday 23rd February, 2022, 16:03 Members: Lily Evans, James Potter

================================

James Potter: mum texted and said that you need to move into my house?

Lily Evans: What?!

James Potter: what?

[ritz-writes]

...has Crowley never sent Aziraphale to voicemail?

I just rewatched the scene before Aziraphale gets discorporated, and realized Aziraphale didn't seem to realize he got the answering machine first.

"I know who you are, you idiot, I telephoned you."

Was this his first time hearing the voicemail message? Cuz that makes me think that Crowley, anytime he sees Aziraphale calling, immediately answers no matter what. It's his angel, after all. How can he not answer?

And I just think that's really cute.

[irradiate-space]

Of course, the point of having a "do not use this phone number for [work] business" voicemail message is kind of mooted by the fact that I pick up the phone anyways and then it's someone from [work] and ugh.

If [work] wants me to be available by telephone, they should provide me with a phone.

[outlandish-dreamer]

"I'll call out your name, but you won't answer back" Whumptober 2023

Prompt 2: "They don't care about you." Word Count: 1.6k Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale or "Ineffable Husbands"

Warnings: None

Summary: Crowley has feelings after Aziraphale left and he gets big sad

Read it on Ao3 here!

6 months. 

It’d been 6 months since that unfortunate…the simplest way of putting it, in Soho. 6 months and right in the middle of them, he got a call. A voicemail. It started off a bit timid, unsure if he should even do this, but continued on more passionately. It got very personal, going into the deep details of Heaven and Aziraphale’s feelings about the whole ordeal. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t all that he had hoped it would be. A bit of a letdown, however, he wasn’t showing it directly considering his voice still had its usually calm disposition.  Eventually it became something Crowley hadn’t expected, but unknowingly craved. At almost the tail end of the message, the angel said something he wouldn’t soon forget. “I’m sorry….” His voice a tender whisper like always when he was upset. Crowley was no stranger to it, by now he had every little detail, inflection, and hesitation of the other memorized. Once again, he had Crowley falling to his knees and his heart skipping a beat. 

If only he hadn’t missed it, then maybe his message would last forever. 

Since that day, the automated recording of Aziraphale played on and on, deeply rooted in Crowley’s subconscious. Whenever there was a quiet moment or was about to fall asleep, he would think about it and stare off into space. The angel had him hooked like a sailor to a siren, falling into the sweet temptation of his song. If there was one thing it did other than driving Crowley mad, it somewhat relieved the anger he had towards him. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t even like it, to be quite honest. Jealous? Betrayed? Definitely, but the anger in those feelings melted away. He could never truly be mad at him. He just wished the both of them hadn’t been so clueless about it all. That he hadn’t missed his call, that he was more direct with how he felt instead of rushing in, that he hadn’t scared off the one thing that actually meant something to him. That Aziraphale stayed, yet the last thing he could never ask of him. He knew how much doing the right thing meant. It had to be one of them and after all he was Crowley, it wasn’t like he was going to do anything “moral” any time soon. Plus this was his best friend, and in the deep recesses of his mind, his soulmate; he wouldn’t make him choose. There were many things he could ask or do to others, but to the angel, he just couldn’t. 

Now as the demon laid in his flat staring at the ceiling, the overwhelming urge to pick up the phone returned. 

He suspected it wouldn’t go through, that the angel would prefer to hear from anyone else but him, but a small part of him argued against it. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d done it hundreds of times before, what was stopping him now? Some petty feelings? No. He was just being a baby, as always. Clicking his tongue and groaning slightly, he dragged his hand across his face, trying to bring himself back to reality. He turned his head to look out the window and stared disinterested at the lamps lighting up his dark corner of Mayfair. Any other time he wouldn’t have paid it much attention since it just wasn’t a big deal. Now though, the warm glow seemed to ease his mind, just a little bit. After a while of looking out into the night, Crowley sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess I could give it a try. Why not?” He whispered to himself and turned around. Sitting with his back towards the wall, he took the telephone next to his bed and dialed the number. 

The few moments it took for it to go through had him anxiously pinching at the skin on his arm. Why was it taking so long…? And why did he care? His mouth went dry as time dragged on until he was brought out of his nervous stupor by a voice. 

“I know you’re there, are you just not gonna say anything, dumbass?” Gabriel replied disinterestedly when he answered the phone.  

Crowley raised an eyebrow and looked over confused. “How’d you know it was me? That recognizable, am I? Hm, doesn't seem like much of a stretch, I’ll be honest.” He shrugged.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and rubbed his temple. “Yeah. If you actually called for something important, maybe do it instead of wasting my time. This is a very busy line, you know.” 

Crowley scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure it is.” He closed his eyes for a while before opening them again. “Why did I think this was a good idea?” He sighed, regretting this whole call in an instant. He knew it was dumb, Gaberial was just proving his point. “Nevermind, it wasn’t important…” He muttered before putting the setting the receiver back down on the display. Albeit a little roughly. He shook his head, pissed at himself for even thinking about it in the first place.  

With nothing better to do, he stood up and poured himself a generous glass of wine.  Red, to be specific. He just wanted to forget and he knew he couldn’t forever, but that moment of bliss that’d come after he couldn’t resist. Moments dragged on in a slow slog as a second cup was slammed down on the table. In the hope that the sweet release of sleep would come soon enough. If the slowly emptying bottle was anything to go by, the demon was about to pass out from delirium. Not before crawling back into bed though. He’d made the mistake of painfully waking up on the ground too many times to risk that again.  

Sinking into his bed and hiding underneath his mounds of blankets, he fell asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The angel looked nervously at the door before knocking. He knew it was a bad idea showing up here, especially unannounced. He wasn’t normally one for such an informal gesture, but now was the exception. He’d understand, right? Probably not, yet it was still worth a try. 

Crowley answered the door to find an uncharacteristically anxious angel. He couldn’t believe it….was-was that really him? No..no, it couldn’t be….

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he was brought out of his panic to see a pair of golden eyes staring at him, confused, clueless, and a bit…hurt? It was odd to see him without his sunglasses, so he could clearly see he was feeling something, just not exactly what. 

“Crowley-! I know you must be furious to see me, especially just at your door without saying anything. But I can explain, before I do though, I really need you to know this.” Aziraphale’s face softened and he turned to look the demon in the eye. “I’m sorry. For…everything. I’m not asking you to forgive me, but you’re my friend. And I want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you, but I know I did….” 

“And it was one of my biggest regrets.” 

Crowley was taken aback. How was he supposed to respond to that? He couldn’t believe it. His breath hitched in the back of his throat and he bit his lower lip, determined not to get upset over this. 

“Well, I guess you ought to know how I got here. To put it lightly..” Aziraphale paused and chuckled sadly. “I fell, or got demoted technically. Turns out they really didn’t need me after all, I tried to fix too many things and they just weren’t having it. This isn’t me trying to get your sympathy though, but I thought you should know.”

Crowley couldn’t help it. He started to laugh despite his feelings. A slow sad chuckle. Shaking his head, he felt himself almost smiling. “I’ll be damned. The great “Aziraphale” really became Mr. Fell, I can’t believe it. You cheeky bastard.” He laughed and looked at Aziraphale, that familiar face making his heart flutter once again. He couldn’t believe it. He had to be joking. Right?

Aziraphale laughed as well and felt his cheeks turn red in embarrassment. “I’m serious, shockingly enough. I still can’t believe it.” He admitted. “It looks like we have something else in common, other than knowing I’m a complete idiot. I knew I should’ve at least said something to you before leaving, hell, I could’ve called you back. But I was too caught up in my own head to do it.” He sighed and shook his head. 

Crowley stepped forward and tilted his head to look at the angel. “You’re right about that. You are an idiot.” He smirked while pressing his face into his shoulder.

Aziraphale gasped in fake shock and pretended to look offended. “You slithery little menace.” He looked down and pulled the other into a hug, resting his chin on the top of his head. “You have no idea how I’ve missed you.” 

Crowley was surprised at first at the sudden motion, but quickly melted into the embrace. He thought he’d never know how much he’d hurt, how much he missed him until now. He could tell that those bright, knowing eyes understood. All that had happened before wasn’t forgotten, but didn’t matter to him anymore. The only things that did were him and Aziraphale. His angel. He muttered back, muffled by still pressing against his shoulder. 

“Likewise, angel.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

As much as it seemed so and he wanted it to be, it wasn’t real. He hated himself for it. For wanting so desperately for that to happen. To feel him, see him, at least hear his voice again, even if only in his head. Only as a dream made to soothe his mind that would inevitably leave him empty. Tears on his pillow as he cried in the darkness, both relieved and torn that he was alone. 

However, if the figure standing at his doorway was anything to go by, then maybe he wasn’t alone after all. But the sleeping demon didn’t notice. 

_____________

Okay I promise I'm not dead xD I know it's not a big deal, but I just wanted to let you know. I've finally gotten back into writing and I'm gonna get my asks answered as soon as I can, so tysm for putting up with me!! Also, happy October! It's finally spooky season and I'm s o excited :D. Especially since I'm going to do Whumptober for the first time (even though I'm 6 days late 😭) Don't worry, I'm still going to do my usual content too, this'll just be more active/take up more of time. That's all, so there'll still be plenty of normal not sad content on here <3 Thank you guys so so much for putting up with my random absences, life's just been pretty busy recently and I suck at managing my time well. I hope you're all having a wonderful day and remember to take care of yourselves! Rest, eat something, have some water, all that fun stuff and I'll be back with some content soon enough :D

[daekie]

so...... ⚾ Blaseball, huh?

see the thing with putting all my work in a one-last-hurrah message in the fanwork channel is that i don't have enough characters left to talk about almost anything else. so INSTEAD here's a masterpost of my work i guess!

and it's all of the eyes on the way it's going

There was something... there was something they were supposed to say. Something they were meant to carry through the rift. Some information Wyatt Mason wanted to hold close to their chest, because it could change everything, if they just - but there’s nothing there except the same crackling static that would make them jump, if they felt alive enough for that. Wyatt Mason III was pulled through the Rift. Wyatt Mason III Localized into the Georgias' lineup.

2938 words, 1 chapter. Written before I actually had any real feelings or opinions on that wet little guy (said with immense fondness) & the first real piece of writing I did for Blaseball. I think I've gotten a lot better since this, but it's not bad, and I'm still pretty proud of the workskin I made for it.

for you, home is a cemetery

The light shining overhead casts everything in dangerous gold, and the players standing in perfect rank and file are no better and no safer: the Aequitas Representatives, here to take the challenge proposed by the Seattle Garages, here to remind a pesky little team what their place is and how foolish it is to fight a god. 6x200 snapshots of those terrible, brittle years, smothered and kept and preserved under a god's thumb for her purposes and her purposes alone.

1200 words (6x200), 1 chapter. AO3 says it's 1201 but it's lying I think. The Wyatts Mason, in a world where the Coin arranged their Localization and corporate drone teenagers scare the living shit out of me; inspired by @zayphora's original Aequitas AU.

you'll lead all your friends like lemmings to a slaughter

Season 14, Day 86. Wy█tt M██on III Ech█ed █yatt Mas██ ███ — ECHO Wyatt Mason III STATIC ECHO Wyatt Mason VIII STATIC

3387 words, 1 chapter. The aftermath of and it's all of the eyes on the way it's going. Wyatt Mason III Three hasn't even picked an actual name yet besides 'not Wyatt', and they've only been alive for fourteen days, but they know they're not walking off that field at the end of this game. Written after I'd been playing them on Twitter for some time, so it's a lot more consistent with a lot of things!

i'm no ghost, no fool

The first thing David Gray needs you to know is that their name is not David Gray. (is this worth crying for? is stepping up to bat worth dying for?)

2852 words, 1 chapter. Dialogue-only. In a Short Circuits world, Atlantis Georgias shadows player David Gray has some things they need to get off their chest, and a Fan's the only person who can hear them say it (literally). Good thing they can spot a Fan at a hundred paces.

a short list of stars that died this year (or: i’m screaming every requiem i know at the suns)

i’m screaming every requiem i know at the suns & someone is singing a mourning song. Nagomi Nava reflects, after the end of the world.

6967 words, 2 chapters. Written as part of the Sunbeams' 2022 Solstice exchange for orionexperiment#0951. Nagomi Nava experiences the Semi-Centennial, makes an odd friend in Tillman Henderson while she's at it, and makes her way through Season 24 and the end of the universe. This thing fucking rocks honestly, I don't even think it reads too well but I'm incredibly proud of it still.

radio station 19.14

11666 words spread across two fics. Written for the Tokyo Lift Fic Exchange. Jessica Telephone Voicemail and Wyatt Mason (Season 14 birth) Jasmine Mason have a midnight talk about not being that person you took your name and face from, and what it means to be you, and the team that loved a girl they barely even got to know. Fics can be read in any order. Includes:

the only way i know how to say sorry is "better luck next time"

One day, in the static she hears every time she picks up a phone, she hears a voice. The voice doesn’t sound like Jessica Telephone. If it did, she’d put the phone down immediately; deals like the kind Jessica made can’t really be taken back, but that was a determined girl, and she’d make a determined haunt, too. But it doesn’t sound like her voice, or her own, or otherwise. It sounds like a teenage girl. Jessica Telephone isn’t the only girl here who might as well be someone else's ghost.

5533 words, 1 chapter. I tagged this with Minor Parasocial Relationships / alt jess is weird about jessica. its parasocial its antagonistic its envious its Really Something / JESSICA ISNT EVEN HERE GIRL. WHAT ARE YOU HUNG UP ON and I stand by that. This is Jessica Voicemail's side of the conversation!

my theologies strewn out in the dark

At least she herself was able to say that’s not me, that’s my name, that’s not me, I want to be something else. She doesn’t think Jessica has said that, or maybe even thought it to herself; who wouldn’t want to be Jessica Telephone? From the outside, wouldn’t it be a gift, to live a life so rich? (Wouldn’t it be a gift, to be a splinter of a god who saw everything but never saw it coming? It always looks better from the outside.) Jessica Telephone isn’t the only girl here who might as well be someone else’s ghost: or, what that looks like from another camera angle: or, hey, who decides what the real Ship of Theseus is, anyway?

6133 words, 1 chapter. Jasmine's side of the conversation. Eldest daughter syndrome applies even if you're a weird sound ghost and Jas has got it bad. When she can't do anything, why would she ever let herself do anything less than as much as possible?

spinning on this infinite road

a collection of fics written for the game band's blasetober 2022 prompts, all written as 12x100s.

8675ish words, 6 chapters. Covers prompts THE BOOK, CERTIFIED BLASEBALL MOMENT, BIRDS, PEANUTS, A BLESSING, A CURSE, and PARKER.

oh, it's time for another vendetta

This is a body he hasn’t known since before the PODS. This is a body he had no say in leaving behind. This is a body that is his and is not his. York doesn’t know he’s crying until he feels the heat on his face. or: york silk backslides on his mental health recovery, because who ever put 'being eight years old again' in their twelve-step plan?

1628 words, 1 chapter. Set in Sonder's Salmon & Snake AU, where post-S24 the League resets back to S1 but with randomized rosters, and the only players who remember the original timeline are Hall Stars and Legends.

I've also done some ficlets from ask memes -- York Silk's protagonist halo & the vault's heel population, and Trip Mason & Jaybot and accepting the fact things won't get better. And I roleplay(ed) Wyatt Mason III & Siobhan Chark on Twitter!

Non-fanfic stuff I've made includes the following (it's 99% community-billboard stuff):

Everything on this I can back up except putting the Wyatts and Wyatt Prime on separate levels.

(at some point i WILL make a final version of this; this one doesn't include s24 + short circuits i think. but. yknow. it is what it is.)

mock takeovers for fan-entities the Archivist (the first two) & the Catalyst (the third one)

propaganda for early expansion era -- i think this is s13-s14?

late expansion era propaganda. the second one isn't even a good edit but i still think it's funny.

propaganda for short circuits. we could've been the atlantis peanuts.... i wanted it so bad

& some coronation era propaganda. very happy with that first knight ump one.

...and then i also did some playlists (raw meat, static echo)...

and during coronation, i drew my design for mckinney vaughan...

...and i did a moodboard for MaX (Wyatt Mason X)...

oh yeah and I also did text post memes. first set, second set, third set, georgias set.

it's been a good run, yall! onwards to whatever comes next. (& ofc i'll still be blaseballing -- i'll probably be playing around in this setting forever and ever.)

[forensicated]

Smiffina Episodes: An Honour To Serve - Part 1

Uniform are running low as a virus takes them down. Millie is trying to battle through despite feeling rough. Nate, Leon and Rachel have called in sick. Gina's going to have to go out to boost the numbers!

Smithy is giving Callum the silent treatment after what happened the day before though he can't resist telling him he's still fuming at being put in that position over Callum's arrest of Glen Donovan (Appropriate Force) and is still considering speaking out about the amount of force used. Callum assures Gina everything is absolutely fine - even if Smithy did just stalk out before she arrived.

Jake Quinn rings the station to tell them he's been stabbed. Roger and Ben arrive as Quinn is loaded into an ambulance. In the flat they find a couple of patches of blood and the living room has been turned over. There's a voicemail from a Nicola that states 'Gerard' is in the way to see him as he's seen the flowers he left her. Roger takes the telephone number and asks Sally to do a check on it.

Heaton offers to help fill in and Gina accepts telling him she really is that desperate! He smiles and says her that's the old Gina he knows and she pretends to take offence at the 'old' and apologises for how she spoke to him. (Funny Money). She tells him she was having a bad time of it and he sympathises. She places Heaton with Sally "Oh. Excellent." "...Try and say it like you mean it, Sally." Roger calls in the stabbing and she assigns Smithy with her after their argument the evening before.

"We are all on the same side." "We shouldn't have to take sides though, Ma'am."

Ben and Roger update Callum and Millie that a man was seen leaving the block of flats after a lot of shouting. He then went to a pink hatchback in the carpark and drove off. Sally updates them that the telephone number is registered to a Gerard Parry and sends the address through. Eddie thrusts a mask at "Sick Girl", Millie. "Coughs and sneezes spread diseases!" he tells her. Eddie Olusonje: Fighting Covid as far back as 2008.

Smithy apologises to Gina again and tells her he was angry. She tells him to forget it. Smithy speaks to the paramedics and then tells Gina the paramedics found Quinn on the floor by the open front door and all he said was 'thank you'. They speak to Quinn who tells them if it'd been an inch either way he'd no longer be here according to a doctor.

Quinn tells them it was Gerard Parry who stabbed him because he'd had an affair with his wife. He'd been their builder a few months back and 'one thing lead to another'. He didn't want to be responsible for breaking up a family so ended it but she won't leave him alone. That morning he says she rang and left him a message saying Gerard had found the flowers he sent but claims it wasn't him who sent them.

Gina updates Callum with the address of the suspect but they're already outside. Parry makes a run for it when the police arrive and manages to get away. Callum returns to the house to meet up with Millie and to talk to Parry's wife and daughter.

Nicola insists Quinn is the one who is obsessed with her after a one off she instantly regretted. She claims he is stalking her and that Gerard only punched him. She shows Callum the card and flowers and details calls and text messages of harassment but has deleted the evidence to stop her husband finding them. She'd had an affair 5 years ago and promised it would never happen again. The Parry's daughter tells Millie that her parents either argue or give each other the silent treatment. She's become immune to it as she puts headphones in and turns her music up. She can't wait to be 16 and leave them so they can leave each other.

Eddie finds the knife underneath a settee. It's an expensive speciality knife that comes from a block in the Parry's house. Nicola tells Callum it's been missing for a week. She hands a family picture to Callum and tells him it's the 'most recent picture she has' of Gerard. It's at least 6 years old judging by the age of the daughter. Heaton and Sally find Parry at the Jubilee Canal and arrest him for stabbing Quinn. He protests he never stabbed him, that he was fine when he left him. In interview he tells Heaton and Sally that he found the roses on the doorstep and read the card. He'd had his suspicions as Nicola was 'different' when Quinn was around and he was smug. He'd told her that she'd enjoyed talking with him but he'd been harassing her since. They argued all night as it's not the first time she's had an affair. He says Quinn laughed in his face and said his marriage was a sham and she loved him not Parry. He then described her intimately. Parry admits punching Quinn and says he punched him back. They struggled, he realised he was making a fool of himself and shouted at him to leave his wife alone and left Quinn 'grinning'. Sally shows him a picture of the knife and he admits its theirs but he didn't take it with him and he doesn't know how it got there.

Heaton updates uniform they have enough evidence to charge Parry, however he believes that he could be innocent from his behaviour in interview. Smithy explains the paramedics found the door open but Heaton counters that Parry described slamming the door closed. That is backed up by a neighbour that Ben spoke to. Roger found no blood on the door handle or frame but plenty on Jake's hands. There's no identifying the florist as it's a generic bunch of red roses wrapped in cellophane and the card is typed. It's six of one and half a dozen of the other. Millie admits the daughter said her mother has been feeling neglected by the father so could have set it up to make him pay her attention, however, she hadn't told him about the affair so why would she? They consider if it was a way of bringing it to the fore so that Jake could still get punished for rejecting her. Sally brings the Parry's phone records and there's a lot of calls from their number to Quinn's flat over the last few weeks.

Callum returns to the Parry's house and Nicola admits to calling Quinn a couple of times to tell him to leave her alone. Callum tells her there's 40 calls. Some are short 20 second bursts but others are much longer. They were made during daytime hours when her daughter and husband would be out of the house. She only wants him to leave her alone and sticks to her story that she didn't call him.

Smithy and Gina return to St Hugh's and tell Quinn that Parry isn't denying the assault as he expected him to. He tells the same story that Parry did in interview, but then goes into detail about what furniture got knocked over in the struggle and that Parry then pulled a knife on him. He can't say where Parry got it from. He went to the floor after being stabbed and claims Parry stared at him, threw the knife and left, slamming the door behind him. He remembers thinking he had to get it open again for the paramedics. Gina asks if this was before he called 999 or after. Jake seems confused as to why he's being questioned and gets twitchy. He also has no defensive wounds on his body or hands. "If a fella comes at you with a knife you're gonna try and take it off him." Smithy points out. "And if he opened the door for the paramedics, why is there no blood on it?"

Gina updates Eddie and asks for his take on it. Eddie admits it's quite a confused crime scene. He says the things that are knocked over do not tally having fallen or broken in a struggle - for example a table has been upturned with one leg snapped off completely and then neatly laid inside the table frame. The blood is consistent with one stab wound, however Quinn has 5. There are marks on the wall and Eddie considers that Quinn could have braced the knife inplace and pushed himself onto it and taken 4 run attempts before the final one where he pushed it in fully. Smithy is only a couple of inches shorter than Quinn so attempts to recreate it - it lines up. Gina asks Roger and Ben to arrest Quinn but when they get there he's already gone.

Quinn has no criminal record and they have no idea what he's capable of. Callum is sent to bring Nicola into the station for safety. Smithy wonders if they could be in it together given that the knife from their home as used and found at Quinn's. It could be one way to end the marriage if she asked for a divorce and he refused. They are about to return to search Quinn's flat but are interrupted by the taxi driver who picked Quinn up from the hospital telling them he took Quinn to Nicola's house. Callum arrives to collect Nicola with Millie and shakes his asp out incase Quinn is inside. They find Nicola cowering behind the settee as she fears Quinn about to rape her. He tried to use his wound as a reason for her to leave Gerard and move in with him and Callum tells her that it was Quinn who stabbed himself. He'd have been able to copy keys from when there as a builder and that's how he got hold of the knife and made the phone calls, letting them connect to his answer phone so it looked as though they were talking. He's stolen her car and Callum puts out the registration.

Smithy finds Quinn's passport and sees he was deported from Australia so asks Sally to contact Interpol for more information. Ben finds ladies underwear and cosmetics in a drawer in Quinn's bedroom. The drawer also contains keys to Nicola's house. There are newspaper articles that describe a father commiting suicide in front of his 15 year old son. The surname is different but it's still Jake. They find a payslip for an internet cafe and attend, asking the boss if he's spoken to Quinn recently. He had been in approximately half an hour before them and needed to get something from his locker. He doesn't know what but Quinn did come out in a clean top. Whilst Smithy goes to the car for some bolt croppers to cut the padlock Jake installed on it, the boss tells Gina they get a lot of kids from the nearby school and Jake is really good with them but he generally keeps himself to himself. When the locker is open, Smithy pulls out a blooded tshirt, a pistol holder and bullet but no gun.

Heaton assures the Parry's they're digging into Quinn's background and trying to find as much as possible out about him. Nicola tells them Jake didn't have a happy childhood and that his parents and foster parents are dead. He'd spent some time in Melbourne and met a girl there but they broke up because 'she didn't understand him'. Smithy calls Heaton to one side and tells him about the gun and bullet. He's seems to have the gun tucked away away on the CCTV from the internet cafe and he's seen leading Sophie Parry outside. Quinn was arrested for stalking a woman in Australia but charges were dropped as there wasn't enough evidence. A few months later he was arrested again for sexual assault and still the charges wouldn't stick so they were dropped. Shortly after the boyfriend of the victim was shot and wounded. The police were certain Quinn did it but couldn't prove it, He was deported 2 weeks later. There was nothing suspicious about his father's suicide but they never found the gun used. He changed his name by taking on the surname of his foster family and then was in a succession of care homes before Social Services lost track of him.

It appears that he found out Sophie was a regular user of the internet cafe before Quinn started working there and that he applied for the job as a way to get closer to her for when he believed Nicola would dump Gerard and move in with him. The Parry's are terrified.

Smithy and Gina attend Sophie's school to talk to her best friend. They spot Nicola's car as soon as they arrive. Quinn is already there and armed. Gina asks for the headmistress but they hear a scream before she appears. Gina asks the head to action an evacuation. Smithy makes his way up to where the scream came from and is spotted by Parry who points his gun in his direction and tells him not to come closer as he takes 15 children, including Sophie and best friend Polly as well as a teacher hostage. Smithy assures him he won't and tries to get the rest of the children out. He uses the distraction to dart across to a dark room opposite Quinn. Gina tries to call Smithy on the radio. He turns his radio down and hides out of sight, not responding to the radio calls. His mobile goes to voicemail. Sally tells Gina and Smithy a girl ran from the car after Quinn parked and he followed her inside. A check of the car reveals an abduction kit of duct tape, rope and a hammer stored in the boot.

Smithy watches from a storeroom as Quinn stalks around the room. He asks the children for paracetamol and barks at Sophie to shut up when she tries to talk. He blames her for getting them into the situation as it was her who ran into school. He only took her because her mother wouldn't come without her. Heaton tells Gina to reply to Smithy to update him what's happening and that CO19 are en route.

Smithy uses his radio to transmit what is happening and listens as Jake threatens to shoot one of the children. He isn't prepared to wait. Officers hear Smithy shout 'POLICE!' over the radio as he goes in, hitting Jake on the back of the legs with his ASP. He shouts at the children to run out of the room. They then hear Quinn say 'You shouldn't have done that' and a gunshot. Gina shouts Smithy's name and the next thing they hear is Quinn saying 'You've got a man down'"

[truecrimetime]

The Disappearance of Maura Murray

Maura Murray was a 21-year-old nursing student, completing her junior year at the University of Massachusetts Amherst at the time of her disappearance. On Monday, February 9, after midnight, Murray used her computer to search MapQuest for directions to the Berkshires and Burlington, Vermont. That same day, the first reported contact that Murray had with anyone was with her boyfriend, at 1:00pm. She emailed him: "I love you more stud. I got your messages, but honestly, I didn't feel like talking too much of anyone, I promise to call today though. love you, Maura." She also made a phone call inquiring about renting a condominium at the same Bartlett, New Hampshire, condo association that her family had vacationed with in the past. Telephone records indicate that the call lasted about three minutes. The owner did not rent the condo to Murray. Murray called a fellow nursing student for reasons unknown, at 1:13pm.

On February 9, at 1:24pm, Murray emailed a work supervisor of the nursing school faculty stating that she would be out of town for a week due to a death in her family. However, according to her family, they did not have a death in the family at that time. At 2:05 pm, Murray called a number which provides recorded information about booking hotels in Stowe, Vermont and the call lasted about five minutes. At 2:18 pm, she telephoned her boyfriend and left a voice message promising him they would talk later. This call ended after only one minute.

In her car, Murray had packed clothing, toiletries, and college textbooks. When her room was later searched, campus police discovered that most of her belongings had been packed in boxes and the art had been removed from the walls. It's not clear whether Murray packed them that day, but police at the time said she had packed between Sunday night and Monday morning.

 On top of the boxes was a printed email to Murray's boyfriend indicating that their was trouble in their relationship. Around 3:30 pm, she drove off the campus in her black 1996 Saturn sedan. Classes at the university had been canceled that day due to a snowstorm.

At 3:40pm, Murray withdrew $280 from an ATM and closed-circuit footage showed that she was alone. Murray then purchased about $40 of alcoholic beverages from a nearby liquor store. At some point in the day, she also picked up accident-report forms from the Massachusetts Registry of Motor Vehicles.

Murray left Amherst between 4 and 5pm, presumably along interstate 91 north.  She called to check her voicemail at 4:37 pm, the last recorded use of her cell phone. To date there has been no indication that she informed anyone of her destination, or any evidence that she had even chosen one.

After 7:00pm, a Woodsville, New Hampshire resident heard a loud thump outside her house. Through her window, she saw a car up against the snowbank along Route 112, also known as Wild Ammonoosuc Road. The car pointed west on the eastbound side of the road. The woman reported the car accident to the Grafton County Sherriff's Department at 7:27pm. According to the 911 call log, the woman had claimed to see a man smoking a cigarette inside the car but she later set the record straight and said that she had not seen a man smoking a cigarette but rather what appeared to be a red light glowing from inside the car, potentially from a cell phone.

 A passing motorist, a school bus driver who lived nearby, stopped at the scene. They claimed to have seen the car, as well as a young woman walking around the vehicle. The motorist noticed that the woman was not bleeding or visibly injured, but appeared to be cold ad shivering. he had offered to call for help but she asked him not to call the police, assuring him that she had already called AAA, but AAA has no record of any such call. The motorist continued home and called the police, knowing that there was no cellular reception in the area. His call was received by the Sheriff's Department at 7:43 pm. He was not able to see Murray's car when he made the call but he did notice several cars pass the road before police arrived to the scene. Another local resident driving home from work claimed to have passed the scene around 7:37pm, and saw a police SUV parked face to face with Murray's car. She pulled over briefly but did not see anyone inside or outside of the car, then deciding to continue home. However, this witness's statement contradicts the official police log, which has Haverhill police arriving nine minutes later. When the police arrived at the scene, at 7:46pm, the woman driver had disappeared. Both inside and outside the car, an officer discovered what appeared to be red wine stains. Inside the car there was an empty beer bottle, a damaged box of Franzia wine, AAA card issued to Murray, blank accident report forms, compact discs, gloves, makeup, diamond jewelry, Murray's favorite stuffed animal, driving directions to Burlington, Vermont, and Not Without Peril, a book about climbing in the White Mountains. Missing items included Murray's credit and debit cards, and cell phone, none of which have been found since her disappearance. Police were able to trace the vehicle to Murray, and initially treated her as a missing person, with the belief that she may have voluntarily disappeared. This speculation was based on her apparent travel preparations and no obvious evidence of foul play.  In 2009, Murray's case was given to the New Hampshire cold case division, and authorities are handling it as a "suspicious" missing persons case.

Sometime between 8:00 and 8:30pm, a contractor returning home from Franconia, saw a young woman, on foot, moving quickly eastbound on Route 112 about 4 to 5 miles east of where Murray's vehicle was discovered. He also noticed that the woman was wearing jeans, a dark coat, and a light-colored hood. He did not report this to police immediately due to his own confusion regarding the dates, barely discovering three months later that he had spotted this person on the same night that Murray had disappeared.

The responding officer and the bus driver drove around the area searching for Murray. Just before 8:00 pm, EMS and a fire truck arrived to clear the scene. By 8:49 pm, the car had been towed to a local garage, and at about 9:30 pm, the responding officer left. A rag believed to have been part of Murray's emergency roadside kit was discovered stuffed into the Saturn's muffler pipe. Authorities would refer to Murray as simply "missing" at 12 pm the next day, almost 24 hours after the last confirmed sighting of her.

At 12:36 pm the following day, February 10, a "Be on the Lookout" report for Murray was issued. She was reported as wearing a dark coat, jeans, and a black backpack. A voicemail was left on Fred Murray's home answering machine at 3:20 pm stating that her car had been found abandoned. He was working out of state and did not receive this call. At 5:00 pm, Murray's older sister contacted her father to make him aware of the situation. He then contacted the Haverhill Police Department and was told that, if Murray was not reported safe by the following morning, the New Hampshire Fish and Game Department would start a search. At 5:17 pm, Murray was first referred to as "missing" by the Haverhill police.

On February 11, Murray's father arrived before dawn in Haverhill. At 8:00 am, New Hampshire Fish and Game, the Murrays, and others began to search. A police dog tracked the scent from one of Murray's gloves 100 yards east from where the vehicle had been discovered, but lost the scent. This suggested to police she'd left the area in another car. At 5:00 pm, Murray's boyfriend and his parents arrived in Haverhill. He was interrogated in private, and then was joined by his parents for questioning. At 7:00 pm, the police said they believed Murray came to the area either to run away or attempt suicide but her family believed that this was unlikely.

Murray's boyfriend had turned off his cell phone during his flight to Haverhill. At some point, he had received a voicemail that he believed to be the sound of Murray sobbing. The call was traced to a calling card issued to the American Red Cross.

On February 12, Murray's father and her boyfriend held an evening press conference in Bethlehem, New Hampshire, and the next day the first press coverage was published. At 3:05 pm, the police reported Murray might be headed to the Kancamagus Highway area, and she was "listed as endangered and possibly suicidal". The police report also stated Murray was intoxicated at the crash site, although the bus driver had said she did not appear impaired. The Haverhill police chief said that, "Our concern is that she's upset or suicidal."

A week after Murray's disappearance, her father and boyfriend were interviewed by CNN's American Morning.  Murray's family expanded their search into Vermont, dismayed that authorities there hadn't been informed of her disappearance.

Although missing person cases are normally handled by local and state police, the FBI joined the investigation ten days after she disappeared. The FBI interviewed family from Massachusetts and the Haverhill police chief announced that the search was now nationwide. Ten days after her disappearance, New Hampshire Fish and Game conducted a second ground and air search, using a helicopter with a thermal imaging camera, cadaver dogs, and tracking dogs. Murray's older sister discovered a ripped white pair of women's underwear lying in the snow on a secluded trail near French Pond Road on February 26, but DNA tests found that the underwear didn't belong to Murray.

The police returned the items found in Murray's car to her family, at the end of February. On March 2, the family checked out of their motel, exhausted from the search. Fred Murray returned nearly every weekend to continue searching. In April, Haverhill Police informed him of complaints of trespassing on private property. 

The March 2004 disappearance of Brianna Maitland in Montgomery, Vermont, 66 miles away from Murray's last sighting in Woodsville, drew comparisons from media and law enforcement due to the similarities in disappearances. However, state police have stated there are no links between the two cases.

In April and again in June, New Hampshire and Vermont police dismissed any connection between Murray's case and Maitland's. In a press release, they stated they believed that "Maura was headed for an unknown destination and may have accepted a ride in order to continue to that location," adding that they had discovered no evidence that a crime had been committed. They dismissed the possibility that a serial killer was involved.

On July 1, the police retrieved the items found in Murray's vehicle from her family for forensic analysis. On July 13, a one-mile radius search was performed by nearly 100 searchers, including state troopers, rescue personnel, and volunteers. This was the fourth search around the crash area and the first search performed without snow on the ground. Authorities were most interested in locating the black backpack Murray had in her possession but not found in her car. Police stated the search discovered "nothing conclusive".

In late 2004, a man allegedly gave Murray's father a rusty, stained knife that belonged to the man's brother, who had a criminal past and lived less than a mile from where the car was discovered. His brother and his brother's girlfriend were said to have acted strangely after the disappearance, and the man's brother claimed he believed the knife had been used to kill Murray. Several days after the knife was given to Murray's father, the man's brother allegedly scrapped his Volvo.  Family members of the man who turned in the knife claimed he had made up the story in order to obtain reward money in the investigation, and that he had a history of drug use.

In 2005, Fred Murray petitioned New Hampshire Governor, Craig Benson for assistance in the search and appeared on The Montel Williams Show in November of 2004 to publicize the case. On February 9, 2005, the first anniversary of Murray's disappearance, a service was held where the car was found, and her father met briefly with New Hampshire Governor, John Lynch.

In late 2005, Fred Murray filed suit against several law enforcement agencies, with the aim of seeing files on the case. On November 1, 2005, a user named "Tom Davies" logged into a message board called "Not Without Peril", which was dedicated to discussion of Murray's disappearance, and claimed to have seen a black backpack behind a restroom at Pemigewasset Overlook, around 30 miles east of Woodsville on Route 112. Murray had owned a black backpack. Senior Assistant Attorney General Jeffery Strelzin stated that law enforcement "was aware of the backpack," but did not disclose whether it had been taken for forensic testing.

The New Hampshire League of Investigators, ten retired police officers and detectives, and the Molly Bish Foundation started working on the case in 2006. Tom Shamshak, a former police chief and a member of the Licensed Private Detectives Association of Massachusetts, said, "It appears...that this is something beyond a mere missing persons case. Something ominous could have happened here." The Arkansas group Let's Bring Them Home offered a $75,000 reward in 2007 for information that could solve her disappearance.

In October 2006, volunteers led a two-day search within a few miles of where Murray's car was found.  In the closet of an A-frame house approximately 1 mile from the crash site, cadaver dogs allegedly went "bonkers", possibly identifying the presence of human remains. The house had formerly been the residence of the man implicated by his brother, who had given Fred Murray the rusty knife in 2004.  A sample of carpet from the home was sent to the New Hampshire State Police, but the results were never released to the public. In July 2008, volunteers led another two-day search through wooded areas in Haverhill. The group consisted of dog teams and licensed private investigators.

Murray's case was one of many cited by proponents of a statewide cold case unit for New Hampshire in 2009. Her case was subsequently added to the newly established cold case unit later that year.  In 2010, Fred Murray publicly criticized the police investigation for treating the disappearance as a missing persons case and not a criminal matter, and called on the FBI to join the investigation. Jeffery Strelzin said in February 2009 that the investigation was still active: "We don't know if Maura is a victim, but the state is treating it as a potential homicide. It may be a missing-persons case, but it's being handled as a criminal investigation."

In 2014, on the tenth anniversary of Murray's disappearance, Strelzin stated that "We haven't had any credible sightings of Maura since the night she disappeared." In an article published in the New York Daily News on the tenth anniversary of his daughter's disappearance, it was reported that Fred Murray believed she was dead and had been abducted the night of her disappearance.

On February 9, 2017, the thirteenth anniversary of Murray's disappearance, Strelzin wrote in an email to The Boston Globe: "It's still an open case with periods of activity and at times it goes dormant. There are no new updates to share at this time."

In February 2019, the fifteenth anniversary of Murray's disappearance, Fred Murray reiterated his belief that his daughter was dead, as well as his suspicions about the nearby house that cadaver dogs responded to, stating, "That's my daughter, I do believe." In early April, excavation was done within the basement of the house. Fred Murray had previously wanted to search the home, but the owners did not cooperate. Following sale of the property, its new owners allowed several searches of the property since February. The excavation conducted in early April found "absolutely nothing, other than what appears to be a piece of pottery or old piping."

In early 2021, the tree at the site where Murray was last seen—which had been marked with a blue ribbon as a memorial—was cut down by the property owner. Shortly thereafter, a request from Murray's family to have a New Hampshire historical marker placed at the site, which had been submitted in late 2020, was turned down by the New Hampshire Division of Historical Resources. 

On September 14, 2021, New Hampshire State Police announced that bone fragments had been found on Loon, Mountain in Lincoln, New Hampshire, approximately 25 miles east of the site of Murray's crash. Murray had been to the mountain before and had knowledge of the area, according to her sister. The bone fragments were described as "pretty small," and it was expected to take at least two months to determine if they were the remains of Murray or not. In November, it was announced that the remains did not belong to Murray.

In January 2022, FBI issued a national alert in Murray's case and created a Violent Criminal Apprehension Profile, allowing multiple law enforcement agencies to share information regarding her case. In July 2022, law enforcement in New Hampshire initiated a search in the towns of Landaff and Easton.

It's important to note that before Murray had disappeared, she had showed some rather irregular behavior. In November 2003, three months before her disappearance, Murray admitted to using a stolen credit card to order food from several restaurants, including one in Hadley, Massachusetts. The charge was continued in December, and dismissed after three months' of good behavior.

On the evening of February 5, 2004, while she was on duty at her campus-security job, Murray spoke on the phone with her older sister, Kathleen. They discussed Kathleen's relationship problems with her fiancé. Around 10:30 p.m., while still on her shift, Murray reportedly broke down in tears. When her supervisor arrived at her desk, Murray was "just completely zoned out. No reaction at all. She was unresponsive." The supervisor escorted Murray back to her dorm room around 1:20 am. When asked what was wrong, Murray said two words: "My sister." The contents of this call remained unknown until October 2017, when Kathleen publicly explained the conversation: Kathleen, a recovering alcoholic, had been discharged from a rehabilitation clinic that evening, and on the way home, her fiancé took her to a liquor store, which caused an emotional breakdown.

On Saturday, February 7, Murray's father Fred arrived in Amherst. He told investigators he and Murray went car-shopping that afternoon, and later went to dinner with a friend of his daughter. Murray dropped her father off at his motel room and, borrowed his Toyota Corolla, and returned to campus to attend a dorm party. She arrived at 10:30 pm. At 2:30 am on Sunday, February 8, she left the party. At 3:30 am, en route to her father's motel, she struck a guardrail on Route 9 in Hadley, causing nearly $10,000 worth of damage to her father's car. The responding officer wrote an accident report, but there is no documentation of field sobriety tests being conducted. Murray was driven to her father's motel and stayed in his room the rest of the morning. At 4:49 am, there was a cell phone call placed to her boyfriend from Fred's phone. The participants and content of the phone call are not known.

Later Sunday morning, Fred Murray had learned that the damage done to his vehicle would be covered by his auto insurance. He rented a car, dropped Murray off at the university, and departed for Connecticut. At 11:30 that night, Fred called his daughter to remind her to obtain accident forms from the Registry of Motor Vehicles. They agreed to talk again Monday night to discuss the forms and fill out the insurance claim via phone.

Maura Murray has never been found.

[lilacmermaid25]

Ted Lasso Fanfic Challenge 2024 - November

November’s Challenge:  Communication!

The Rules: There are none, EXCEPT that your piece must deal with Communication in some way. Write about Sharon feeling proud when one of her patients finally opens up and makes a breakthrough in therapy, or two characters with very different opinions finding a way to converse respectfully. Consider a story where the main plot is spurred on by an unexpected text or phone call or email. Think about a story told entirely through letters and tweets and press releases; think about Roy's atrocious handwriting, or Deborah being really bad with technology. Imagine a worldwide outage that disrupts all telephone and electronic communications. Write about Roy being a huge texter but Keeley much preferring phone calls; write your take on The Unreturned Voicemail. Consider Rebecca and Ted after he returns to Kansas, finding an innovative way of keeping in touch. Think about carrier pigeons or coded messages or ESP; think about braille or sign language or body language. Imagine AFC Richmond finding a new way to communicate with the fans, a method that the traditional sports media does not understand and no other teams are using. Write an AU where the characters are journalists or politicians or in some other industry where communication is central to the job.

Any character, any setting, any premise - anything goes! I’m calling it November’s challenge, but there is absolutely no deadline. And no word limit either - make it a drabble or a one-shot, or the longest multi-chapter you’ve ever written. (I can’t claim to need new things to read these days, but I love multi-chapters all the same). It doesn’t even need to be fic - I’d be thrilled if any of these challenges inspired a gifset or some other form of fanart!

Want to participate but aren’t able to write something at the moment? That’s fine too! Just describe what you’d like to write about for this month’s challenge. I’m curious what ideas all of you have in your heads!

Please add your fic to the AO3 collection HERE, and tag it with Ted Lasso Fanfic Challenge anywhere else you post!

Feel free to check out any of my prompts if you’re looking for inspiration. My Masterpost here is very much a work-in-progress, but I hope to revamp it soon.

Bonus Challenge: Feel like setting an additional challenge for yourself? Send  me an Ask and I’ll give you a character or premise to write about!

Good luck!

Previous Challenges:

2022

2023

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October