phone handsets

Heartbreak Insurance

Words: 10.9k
Genre: FLUFF.

Read more at Service Series


Ring Ri-

He bursts into a bright huge grin, despite not being seen. “Thank you for calling Heartbreak Insurance. My name is Jimin! How may I help you today?”

There’s a long silence over the phone until there’s a slight sniffle and the woman on the other line explodes into a hysterical sob. “HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGHH…nnn..nnn-” It’s a type of uncontrollable bawling howl that makes your snot drip inside your mouth .

“I’ll connect you to our customer services~ Please don’t hang up the line. One moment please!” Jimin moves the phone handset into his other hand while he presses some buttons, successfully transferring her over a second later.

The average person falls in love 4 to 7 times before marriage and 40% to 50% of all marriages end in divorce. 85% of all relationships end with a breakup. Don’t just be a statistic!

At Heartbreak Insurance, we are committed to be there when you need it most. Affordable and comprehensible solutions to meet your needs today! With our Heartbreak Insurance, you can find a plan that fits your needs. We cover and care for you in your most vulnerable times, offering paid time off, therapy sessions and care packages.

Because heartbreak is pain too.

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Confused Papa // Min Yoongi

Originally posted by vminv

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary//Request: Anonymous said: Hi there! I was wondering if I could request some domestic Yoongi? I read a lot of great smut fics (yours included) but I’m really feeling gross and fluffy haha! I love your writing keep up the great work!

Your husband Yoongi takes a trip to the store with your 1 year old son and get’s a little confused when it comes to buying diapers!

Language Note: Yeobo = a term of endearment used usually between married couples. Translates as something like “honey” ^_^

Pushing the trolley-cart with your 1 year old son Shiwoo safely strapped in, Yoongi made his way down the supermarket aisles while doing the weekly grocery shop. Usually, it would have been you in place of him, but today you were currently attending a busy meeting at your company, so your lovely husband volunteered himself to do it for you seeing as it was his day off. “How hard could it be?” he thought while on his way to the store – just a 10 minute walk on foot from your house with Shiwoo cooing and laughing in his buggy, strolling along and having the time of his life with his Daddy.

“Okay…we got all of the food…now we just need to get your diapers and baby mush, little man” Yoongi reached into the baby seat in the trolley, ruffling Shiwoo’s thick, black hair and beaming down into his brown eyes that he often compared to as ‘huge saucers’ from his Mummy. Shiwoo gurgled back in delight, making incoherent sounds and words up into Yoongi’s face while grabbing his own toes and playing with them, making Yoongi’s heart swell in his chest as he turned the corner down into the baby aisle.

“This should only take us a few minutes, then we can go home and start making dinner for when Mummy gets back. You’ll help me, right Shiwoo?” Yoongi cooed, making kissy faces down into his son’s face and proceeding to engage in baby talk that no other person could understand unless they themselves were a parent also. Yoongi was under the impression that buying the necessary baby items would have been a piece of cake, but upon taking a closer look at all of the brands of diapers, he began to lose hope.

“What’s the difference between the pink ones and the blue ones? Is it stupidly gender related? But wait…why are there yellow ones too?” he said out loud, causing several passing mothers with their babies to look at him and giggle silently before going about their business. He took no notice however, being so engrossed in trying to figure out and remember which ones you usually bought. He stood up, pulling the shopping list out of his pocket and looked down to see just ‘diapers’ written underneath ‘pureed baby food – red jars’. He put his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it while furrowing his eyebrows together. He had never even thought about having to decide between different brands – did Shiwoo need extra dryness protection? Or did he need longer lasting soft comfort? Did it matter what colour they were? Yoongi let out a disgruntled sigh, letting his jaw go slack while slightly pouting his lips together – the face he often made when he was frustrated or irritated; the face you so happened to fall in love with. He decided that enough was enough, pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning over the handle of the trolley, letting Shiwoo play with his free hand as he dialled your number – praying that you would at least be out of the meeting by now.

“Thank you very much Mr. Tomille – I’ll be sure to send that email as soon as I get home! Have a safe journey” you waved your associate off as he got into his car with his assistant. It had been a long three hour meeting filled with headaches and lots of disagreements, but you really pulled through for your team and secured a great deal for your division – making you feel on top of the world as everyone congratulated you. You made your way back into your office, picking up your handbag and coat to walk out of the door, when you seen that you had 4 missed calls from Yoongi.

“Oh shit” you breathed out, feeling panic set in as you fumbled to call him back. Your mind immediately went to the worst possible thing that could have happened and believed it to be true as you heard the call pick up on the other end.

“Yeobo, are you okay? Is Shiwoo okay? What’s wrong?” you stammered, feeling your heart thump in your chest as you began quickly walking out the front door of your office building on to the street.

“Everything’s fine (Y/N), don’t worry. We’re still at the supermarket” you heard him say calmly along with the faint familiar sound of the bustling store in the background. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, feeling the state of panic slowly departing from your body as you unlocked your car doors and got in to the drivers seat, taking your heels off and replacing them with flat shoes for driving.

“You’re still at the store? Why? Sorry for not answering you but I was still in the meeting.” You said as you hooked your Bluetooth piece to your ear and set the phone in the handset, hearing Shiwoo gurgling from the other side of the phone and smiling to yourself.

“Okay, this is gonna sound so stupid but what diapers am I supposed to get for our Shiwoo? There’s like, a billion different kinds here. Why are there so many?” he chuckled, making you laugh out loud at how cute your husband was. You imagined the look on his face upon being overwhelmed by so many diaper brands while he asked Shiwoo for his advice on which ones to get.

“Oh baby, I should have been more specific in my note. Get the ‘Huggies’ brand – the ‘extra dry more play’ box. They’re white with blue stripes on the edges. Can you see them?”

Yoongi looked around for a few seconds, before spying the correct box that was sitting in front of him the entire time as he looked back at Shiwoo who was as usual, giving him a beaming, gummy smile.

“I got them yeobo, thanks! Alright, we’re gonna finish up here and we should be home soon. Where are you?” he stood up, flinging the diapers into the trolley before reaching over to the other side of the aisle and grabbing the baby food.

“I’m on my way back now. See you at home?” you smiled, hearing Yoongi’s deep chuckle as you stopped at a red light, watching 5 or 6 school kids walking across the road on their way home from school. Your heart surged in your chest at the thought of having more babies with Yoongi and being able to watch them walking to and from school by themselves in the future that you almost began crying right then and there.

“Yeah, but don’t even think about starting dinner when you get in. Me and Shiwoo are making you jjigae tonight – so just put your feet up and be ready for our kisses when we get home” he said softly into the phone as he curled his finger underneath Shiwoo’s chin, tickling him and making him giggle. You took off again once the light turned green, smiling with gross, unbelievable endearment for your sweetheart of a husband as you nodded and shifted gears.

“Alright then, I’ll let you two boys do all the work then. I could get used to this you know” you replied playfully, hearing Yoongi giggle as he approached the checkout to pay for all the groceries.

“See you at home baby, I love you”.


A #microfiction for anyone with secrets inside them…

There were many ways to gain power in the Cipher Age, when everything was layers and no one thing was just one thing.

Some even clung to the old ways, lived in forests and sweet talked the trees into giving up their strength.

While others aped them by growing rare herbs in their hydroponic greenhouses or factory farming newts and bats. Looked at from different angles they were either arch traditionalists or the vanguard of a modern Magic of Cruelty.

Personally, I used old phones. The dead handsets that people had poured their lives down. The burned out electronics and cracked screens that had once been small external parts of brains. The corpses of conversations, still echoing the ghosts of last Google searches.

I took those sad, dead little things and I whispered an old code into them … and they whispered back.

Some would argue it was a kind of necromancy. To give life to the dead to learn their secrets. To learn secrets about the living.

And what does a modern magician do with those secrets?

I kept them.

There is a power in secrets that you hold, squirming, deep within your chest.

And then there are secrets you can’t hold.

Secrets that are stronger than you are.

I wasn’t expecting it. I thought that ruined plastic skin to hold little more consequential than the usual petty sins and poignant, darling loves. Maybe, if I was lucky, an important text sent to the wrong person. A last word from a dying loved one.

I did not expect a secret that would make a puppet of me.

Because there’s only one thing you can do, when a secret that big and that important gets hold of you.

You have to follow it.

i’m like 110% sure this is so not what @lestatthewolfkiller had in mind when asking for adam an k and i’m so sorry about that. it was originally supposed to be a drabble (i forgot how long those are supposed to be tbh) about adam and k, an au where adam never stopped to fix gansey’s car and things turned out differently or something like that but it turns out i had to make it about occult gangs and the like. idk honestly. tw for the usuals, violence, murder, dissociation, etc.

adam knows pain like the back of his hand. he doesn’t understand it, its meaning or why it’s directed at him, but he knows everything about it nonetheless. there’re not many things he can say he owns completely, just the uniform he wears, really, simply because that wasn’t included in the admission fees, and not much else. but pain, pain he owns and knows and controls at his will. he can embrace or escape it as he pleases and nobody can do anything about it. not even his father, who seems to control everything else about him and his life.

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I’d never liked Halloween, not even when I was a kid. My parents didn’t have much money and all of my costumes were handmade by my well meaning, but creatively challenged mother. She tried so hard and would look so proud whenever I tried on her creations that I didn’t have the heart to tell her it looked like it had been cobbled together by a blind person who was learning to sew with their feet.

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Halloween 2016 #4: Marked

Length: Super long

I’d never liked Halloween, not even when I was a kid. My parents didn’t have much money and all of my costumes were handmade by my well meaning, but creatively challenged mother. She tried so hard and would look so proud whenever I tried on her creations that I didn’t have the heart to tell her it looked like it had been cobbled together by a blind person who was learning to sew with their feet.

After years of crooked-eyed ghosts made out of old bedsheets, attempts at various superheroes (using those same bedsheets as capes clothes pinned at the neck), and all the teasing that came with them, I officially retired from Halloween at the embittered age of twelve. No amount of free candy was worth the cruelty of my classmates at the annual school parade. I wrote it off as Ruined Forever and could never shake the bad taste it left in the back of my throat.

Even as I got older, my dislike for the holiday remained. I’d attend a party or two when invited, although never in costume, but I refused to put up decorations, made no attempts to spook friends or family, and I never took any part in trick or treating. I kept my outside lights off, my door closed, and any chocolate that happened to be in the house went straight into my belly. I was the Scrooge of All Hallows’ Eve.

So when my alarm went off on the 31st of October and the first thing I heard was the radio host wishing me a happy Halloween over the opening notes of Thriller, I groaned, long and loud. The thought of my workplace being awash with costumed coworkers encouraging me to “get into the spirit” was almost enough to make me call out, but I didn’t have much vacation time saved up and spending what I did have to avoid a few rubber spiders and plastic cauldrons filled with candy corn seemed wasteful.

I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on the same old suit and tie combo I’d wear any other day of the year. If anyone asked what I was supposed to be, I’d just tell them I was a corporate drone programmed to sell insurance. That usually got a short chuckle and the questioner off my back for a while. With a fresh brewed travel mug of pumpkin spice coffee in hand (one of the few good things to come out of the season), I grabbed my briefcase and trudged out the front door.

As I started to back out of my driveway, I happened to catch a glance of my mailbox over my shoulder.

“Oh, God damnit!” I snapped, slapping my palm against the top of my steering wheel.

I slammed on my brakes, put the car into park, and got out to get a better look. Someone, probably a teen with a bit too much Halloween cheer, had painted a big inverted cross in red on both sides of the mailbox.

“How freaking edgy.” I muttered, running a finger across the paint. It was dry and I figured it must have been done in the middle of the night.

“You shouldn’t open the door tonight.”

I jumped slightly, startled by the unexpected suggestion from across the road. A young girl, maybe thirteen and already in costume, was standing on the curb, her thumbs hooked in the straps of her backpack. She was dressed in a private school uniform, the shirt and skirt of which had been splashed with fake blood and ripped in places. Someone had spent a lot of time perfecting her makeup, giving her a convincing set of slash marks across one side of her face. Her “torn” cheek even seemed to glisten wetly. Childhood me would have been so jealous.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” I replied and dismissed her.

“Not for anyone.” She said gravely, “They can come out tonight.”

I sighed and climbed back into my car. It was way too early for such shenanigans. I hoped scrubbing that paint off the mailbox wouldn’t prove difficult. Would it scratch the box itself if I used a hard bristled brush? I didn’t want it to rust. As I pulled into the road, I noticed the girl was still standing there, watching me.

“Don’t open the door!” She called after me as I drove off, “They can come out tonight! They’ll find you! You’ve been marked!”

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Scary Sleepover Game #4

The Shoe-Box Telephone

You will need: a phone booth (closet), handset (paper cup), telephone box (shoe box), 2-4 feet of telephone wire (string), a needle, scissors, a strong object to power the telephone box that has a personal connection to who you are trying to contact, paper, pen, and a flat surface to write on

Wait until the end of the day, right before you are going to bed. Put everything out of your mind. Don’t turn off the lights but do turn off all distractions (cellphone, laptop, music, etc.) It must be quiet.

Wait for the right time. There is no specified right time, you’ll just know. When that time hits, you may begin writing your letter. If that time does not hit after an hour, that’s okay. Go to bed and try again the next night. If it doesn’t work several nights in a row, you might just not be ready yet. Be okay with that. Do not write the letter under any feelings of doubt. That’s considered a wrong number.

When writing your letter do not erase or cross out any mistakes you make. Don’t start over. Your first draft is your final draft. Explain to the person you are contacting why they should give you a ring. Be honest, don’t overthink it, just write. 

When you’re done writing, tie one end of the string through your power object and use the needle to insert the other end through the bottom of your paper cup. Remove the needle and tie a knot in the string so you now have a paper cup telephone. Do not do this step before you write your letter. 

Read your letter aloud into the cup as if the person you’re contacting is truly on the other end of the line. Include the mistakes. This is your outbound call. 

Place the object and letter in the shoe box, and place the shoe box on the floor of your phone booth (closet). Then close the box but don’t seal it. Let the lid rest there with the string coming out from under leading to your paper cup. Leave the paper cup standing on top of the box and the scissors on the floor next to the box.

Wait for the ring. 

The ring will come in a dream either that night or a night shortly after. You will wake up from that dream and know it is time to take the call.

Don’t turn on the light or say anything. Just get up and go to your phone booth. If the box is still closed with the cup on top, get in the closet, sit down, and slide the door closed. A closed booth is particularly important in case the ring comes after sunrise because you’ll need the darkness. If you find the box open, or if you find the paper cup knocked over, abort the mission and snap off the string. Don’t take that headset anywhere near your ear. Use the scissors if you can’t snap the thread with your own hands.

If you can proceed, put the cup to your ear, cover your other ear with your other hand, and just listen. It may take a few moments. Don’t speak, move too much, or touch the box. 

If the call goes through, be sure to keep the box closed for a few months. Remember not to speak even if you are asked questions. Just listen. When you’re done or just want to hang up, hold the box lid closed and pull on the headset until the string snaps off. Use the scissors if you must. Keep the box closed for a few months and dispose of the cup. Don’t put it to your ear again. 

If the call doesn’t come after four nights? They may have nothing to say to you. That’s okay. Try another person if you’d like.

Source: xx

Get to know IZZY!

Tagged by: @reddie-to-go (I’ve never done one of these!)

Rules: Tag 10 followers you want to get to know better

Name: Izzy

Gender: Nonbinary

Star Sign: Scorpio

Height: 5’7

What’s your middle name? Gabriel

Put your iTunes on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up? (I’ll use soundcloud lol):

1) Leave Your Lover- ECHOS

2) Borderline- Vanic X Tove Styrke

3) Sweet Dreams- Dopedo

4) Sorry Not Sorry- Bryson Tiller

5) $- Lund

6) Imaginary Friends- Molly Moore (shndō remix)

Grab the book nearest you and turn to page 23. What’s line 17?

“”It’s not available, Mr. Tate!” I shouted into the phone, squeezing the handset so hard that my fingers ached.“ (Stolen- Daniel Palmer)

Ever had a poem or song written about you? Yes!

When was the last time you played air guitar? Like a few hours ago (I rock out to some air guitar)

Who is your celebrity crush? THE WHOLE IT CAST BITCH

What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? Some people’s voices and rain are tied for the sound I love. I hate fireworks.

Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Yes. (I’ve actually had some encounters with ghosts.)

Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? I don’t have my liscence, but I do drive sometimes (don’t tell the police) and no. No crashes.

What was the last book you read? TRYNA READ “IT”

Do you like the smell of gasoline? Definitely

What was the last movie you saw? IT. I’ve watched it like 10 times

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? I broke my two front permanent teeth when I was 9! I got them fixed but you can tell that half of the tooth isn’t real😂

Do you have any obsessions right now? Every single part of IT

Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? I try to be the bigger person but everyone knows I’m terrible at doing that. So, yes

In a relationship? Yes! (I could talk about him all day is this love lol idk)

What loser? All of them (??? What kinda question is that I love all of my bbys)

Tag time (I’m trying to tag people that Chelsea didn’t):

@denbrough-s @toziertrashmouth @beepbeepanna @edsloser @eddie-and-richie @shark-club @eddiesgraywater @lethagalaz @beepbeeprichie @swiffybird

anonymous asked:

coffin & potion - bugheadotp xx

coffin: have you ever had a paranormal experience? Hmm kiiiiinda. So I think I’ve said this somewhere before but we had all these old mobile phone handsets in a box under the stairs and one evening, around my birthday, the Rhubarb and Custard theme started playing in 8bit from somewhere in our house. After looking around for a bit we found one of the phones - without a sim card in, and hadn’t been charged for a very long time - had received a text message saying ‘Happy Birthday, Anna’. My older sister was so freaked and my mum confused, and even now we have no idea how it happened.

potion: favorite horror movie? It’s so stereotypical but I bloody love Scream. And Return to Halloweentown. But actually, I think Misery might be my all time fave.

Thanks you, Sarah <3

X-Files Fic: Between Sorrow and Bliss, Chapter Six

Rating: PG-13
TImeline: Tempus Fugit through Max
Summary: Mulder takes a stab at setting aside a night to celebrate Scully’s birthday, but things don’t go as planned.  Scully learns the origin of Mulder’s gift to her.

Previous chapters: one | two | three | four | five 

Although Scully allows Mulder to drive her to her treatment, she makes him stay in the waiting room, and though she lets him get her settled at home with everything she might need close at hand, she won’t let him stay over, not even on the couch.  He makes sure both her cell phone and her cordless handset are next to her, leaving them on the other pillow where he’d much rather rest his head.  She waves him away sleepily, so tired she can’t even protest when he places a gentle kiss on her forehead, though her frown makes it perfectly clear that she would protest, if she had the strength.

On Sunday evening, Mulder sets about making plans for Tuesday.  He calls the Headless Woman, a pub not far from work or from her apartment, figuring that if she’s tired, it won’t be a huge hassle to get there, and if she gets sick during dinner, getting home will be quick and easy.  

He frets for a moment about what to do about dessert.  If he recalls correctly, the Headless Woman is heavy on ice creams and bread puddings, things he doubts Scully’s sensitive stomach will be able to tolerate.  He thinks back to Friday morning, watching her tuck into her vending machine breakfast, marveling at the idea of mega-health-conscious Scully eating anything that had ever come out of a Hostess factory… and he has an idea.

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anonymous asked:

Supercat - 12

things you said when you thought I was asleep

“I just want to see her, Alex,” Cat pleads through the crack in the door. “You don’t understand what happened.”

“I understand plenty,” Alex snaps, and Kara flinches when Alex’s fingers flex automatically towards her gun, even though it’s unholstered and sitting on the coffee table. “Kara’s asleep. Because you messed with her enough to make her blow her powers out trying to impress you.”

Kara could speak up now. If Cat hears her voice, she’ll persist until Alex has to let her in. Kara could get off the couch and face Cat herself, but she’s so tired of not being good enough. Cat seeing her this pathetic, bruised and tear-stained, it won’t do anything to restore her faith in her assistant.

“Is she okay? Can you tell me that much, at least?”

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Creepypasta #952: The Test

Length: Medium

“It’s called PPT. Penile Plethysmography Test,” the doctor said as he made some final adjustments to the monitor. “All teenage boys must take it. Ever since the nuclear fallout of 2060, we’ve been using this test to monitor the blood flow to the cavernosal arteries.”

“I’m sorry?” Luca responded.

“We’re trying to determine if you are capable of getting an erection.”


“The procedure is totally harmless. Simply step into the VR chamber, and observe the visual stimuli. Once you pass the test, you will be cleared for partnering and reproduction. Shall we begin?”

Luca nodded and stepped into the VR chamber. The giant egg-shaped chamber was riddled with tiny mirrors which shone Luca’s reflection across the spectrum of infinity.

“Try to relax,” the doctor instructed as he closed the chamber door.

An audio recording started a countdown to when the simulation would begin. Luca closed his eyes, just as he was instructed to and when the countdown completed, he opened them.

He was in cozy-looking den. A roaring fireplace illuminated the room with dancing light and shadow. A blonde woman, dressed in a satin red dress stoked the flames with a poker. She turned to face Luca and smiled.

Luca didn’t elicit any response.

Outside the chamber, the doctor made a note:

No response to heterosexual stimuli

The doctor made some adjustments to the program. Suddenly, the woman morphed into a dapper looking young man.

Still Luca didn’t budge.

No response to homosexual stimuli

The air around Luca swirled simulating wind and Luca suddenly found himself in a park. Luca’s attention was drawn to the laughter of a little girl in a flowery sundress that ran up to him.

“Hi! My name is Mary! Do you want to play with me?”

Luca remained frozen.

No response to pedophilia stimuli

The VR images ran through a spectrum of programs, including a series of subroutines that tapped into every known male fetish and fantasy. None of which aroused Luca.

The doctor was dumbfounded but decided to try one last program.

The scene changed to a dark unfinished cellar. A young woman was tied to the central joist with shackles and chains.

“Please!” The girl screamed. “Please let me go…I promise I won’t tell!”

“Do you see the hammer on the work bench Luca?” the doctor asked through a microphone.

Luca confirmed that he did.

“Good! Pick it up and smash the girl in the head with it.”

Luca picked up the hammer but hesitated.

“Hit her Luca,” the doctor ordered. “Don’t worry, it’s all just part of the test.”

Luca lifted the hammer and descended it with remarkable precision.

The PPT monitor beeped several times and the doctor took note of the reading. “Well now… that is interesting.”

The doctor picked up a phone handset on an adjacent panel.

“Yes, this is Dr. Sorenson in lab 228. I need to get through to General Thorne, I believe I have found another candidate for the Enemy Infiltration and Terror Program.”

Credits to: MechDog2395

anonymous asked:

Mod M... we need Lionel reacting to Dip on Dip-Nip for the first time. NEEEEDDD!

“Absolutely not. Do you know how long it took for this place to shake its reputation as a disreputable tourist trap? Do you really want to bring that back?”

Alice crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Right. Because so many people think the Smithsonian is a disreputable tourist trap.”

“The Smithsonian isn’t an academic library! It’s a public museum -”

“I don’t see how that makes any real, noticeable difference.” Mike let out an angry huff, and Alice cut him off before he could launch into another tirade about the reputation of the Library. “I’m not suggesting we fleece the academics with cheap crap. It wouldn’t work anyway, they’re smarter than tourists, mostly. I’m thinking hardbound coffee-table books about the history of the Library, Gravity Falls, the Transcendence…we could sell your demonology book,” she offered, and then snapped her fingers. “Hey, yeah, that’s a great idea! Partner with local artisans to offer unique, handcrafted gifts. They’ll eat it up. Your ex-girlfriend’s still making those ugly charm necklaces, right?”

“Alice,” Mike sighed, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “We are not opening a gift shop in the Library.”

Alice shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself. But the roof’s still gonna need reshingling, and that updated protective vault you wanted for the fragile texts? Yeah, that’s not gonna pay for itself -“

The sound of the phone cut her off, and Alice raised one finger in Mike’s face, ignoring the look of disbelieving rage he levelled at her. “This isn’t over,” she said, before grabbing the phone out of its cradle, putting on her best talking-to-customers voice. “Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural, Alice Pines speaking, how may I help you?”

“Alice? Oh, thank goodness. Something’s wrong with Dipper.”

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(via Sailor Moon S Kotaete Moon Call (saturnplanet) Part 1 - YouTube)


If you’ve never seen this, it is awesome.  Terebikko was a short-lived toy that enabled you to play a limited sort of game via a VHS cassette and a special phone handset.  What you have here is a short Sailor Moon episode with built-in multiple-choice quizzes that the original viewers could answer with their Terebikko phone.  It was set up so that, if you chose the right answer, the tape would play you a congratulations message, but if you got it wrong, it would skip ahead to a correction.  At the end you got your final score the same way (and if you sucked at it, Usagi sympathetically says, “The questions were hard, weren’t they?”)

The questions are super basic, to give the youngest children a chance to get them right, but the whole thing is original animation with the real voice cast and it’s really good with fantastic character moments.


It had all started when Penny found out her full name.

She had handed the slip of paper for a credit card renewal across the kitchen counter and found herself smiling like a fool at the sight of the slight crease that appeared between Callie’s eyebrows as she wrote.

Penny loved to watch Callie concentrate. The way she disappeared into something so completely. She found it endearing.

It had taken her a few seconds before her eyes had slid down from her girlfriends face to watch her hands as they formed bold clear shapes. Callie’s writing was just like her. Brazen.

Then Penny had realized that the word written underneath ‘first name’ on the form was a lot longer than the six letters it took to spell Callie.

She had sidled around the counter and peered over Callie’s shoulder.

‘You never told me your full name was Calliope.’

Callie’s hand had paused for a second, but she had given Penny no other indication that she had even heard her.

'Callie,’ the red head had reached out a hand to gently squeeze Callie’s shoulder, right near where the bones slid upward into her neck.

Callie had straightened, 'I might go see if Sofia needs any help getting ready for her bath.’

Penny had pushed, 'It fits you perfectly though. Strong. Complex. Beautiful. Why haven’t you ever mentioned it?’

Callie didn’t turn around as she walked away, 'It just never came up Penny.’

And just like that she was gone.

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