#office telephone answering company

[telephonereceptionservices]

24/7 Office Telephone Answering Companies in Toronto

It is a major decision to decide which company should answer the telephone calls on your behalf. You need to keenly and carefully analyze the skills and packages each answering company is offering you. The first factor to consider is the online presence and reputation of the company. This will help you to get reviews of previous clients and know the level of satisfaction. Expect the same quality…

[ukiiyostar]

hey while on the subject of Welcome Home, I'd like to talk about something I found interesting (tl;dr at the bottom)

so the team uncovered a toy telephone, one of those where you can dial the characters and they give you a pre-recorded answer, right?? But the thing about these pre-recorded messages is that they're supposed to reply to the kid, no matter what they're saying or if they're saying anything it at all, y'know? So it is incredibly interesting that the messages shown are that of the characters responding to silence.

the person on the phone says nothing, and the characters, upon hearing nothing, respond with "hello? hello are you there"s like any other person; they start talking as their character and when it becomes clear the person on our line isn't going to respond, they end the call

And here's where it gets more interesting, and it has everything to do with Eddie Dear

So you see, all the characters have different responses to the silent call before leaving: Barnaby tells a joke, Julie invents a game, Poppy thinks she might've broken the phone and tries to fix it (unsuccessfully), and Sally assumes they have stage-fright, just to name a few examples.

But then you hear Eddie's call

He starts off with the post office jingle and when no one answers, he tries singing the jingle again, this time a longer version and he quickly runs out of breath

It is then that he thinks to himself "maybe there's no one there"

He is the ONLY CHARACTER in the cast that even CONSIDERS this; and seconds later he is the ONLY ONE that begins to QUESTION the NATURE OF THIS CALL

LOOK AT HIS DIALOGUE

DO YOU SEE WHAT I SEE????

The other characters assume it's a prank call or some other excuse, but Eddie is the only one who wonders; the only one who begins to contemplate like "wait, why am in a call anyway?"

add this to other Eddie events like the santa commercial and homewarming...

I think he's actually waking up. hell, who's to say he isn't already awake? and this only makes me scared of what will happen to him.

speaking of which, I read another theory earlier that said that perhaps the reason this is all happening to him is that the Playfellow Workshop was planning on removing him from the show because they felt he was "insignificant" or simply didn't add anything other than being the mailman, and they slowly started removing his presence from the media (the way he's skipped on the santa's toys commercial thing and that other episode when wally and Barnaby go around asking everyone EXCEPT Eddie what homewarming is) until they could get rid of him completely.

what do you guys think?

tl;dr = looking at the toy phone responses, it's weird that they have a line replying to silence seeing as that's not the point of the toy, and also it's weird that Eddie Dear is the only character who, out of all the other responses, is the only one to acknowledge the odd nature of the call. my theory is that Eddie might be the next (assuming Wally and/or Home to be the first ones self-aware) to wake up from the puppet illusion, paired with another theory that the company was trying to remove Eddie from the show

[mrs-weasley-reid]

THERAPY SESSIONS•••

bau!team x psychiatrist!reader ↳ part 2 here

Synopsis: you have been a longtime psychiatrist for the BAU team. Always there to listen to their troubles. But what if you mysteriously disappear? WARNING: use of y/n and l/n. curse(s?). mentions of trauma (kind of) A/N: nothing sweets, enjoy!

Monday, 11:04 AM

"Have you heard from Dr. L/N? I wanted to schedule my next appointment but can't reach her cell." Spencer, being your frequent visitor, asked his teammates as he stared at his flip phone in deep thought. Maybe the problem was his phone?

Emily turned her seat, legs crossed and arms flat on the armrests of her chair. "I actually wanted to schedule one yesterday. I couldn't reach her cell either." She shrugged, leaning backward.

Derek rolled his eyes, "Maybe she's on a date? Let the woman have a life." He was your newest patient, though you have been listening to his troubles for 2 years.

You have been the BAU team's psychiatrist for the past six years, or more, you couldn't remember. All you could remember was how they slowly piled, one by one, into your office and shared their deepest sorrows in the safety of your listening ear.

It started when Spencer needed someone to rant to. He arrived at your clinic, soaking wet from the rain and clutching your business card in his hand. You were about to leave for the day, but you didn't mind the extra hours you had to spend.

Then came JJ, who brought up her concerns for Spencer but was completely anxious over different things. She was the sweetest woman alive that you have ever met. And it sometimes pained you to know that she had to endure adversities.

The others crammed right in like children asking for a little bit of company in the dark, and you were more than happy to provide them with a cozy sofa and a listening ear.

Spencer and Emily let go of the topic. Derek was right. They had to let you have a life outside of work, outside of listening to their cries. They bothered you with the shallowest inconvenience 24/7, and it didn't sit right to deprive you of having time off.

With that said, nonetheless, you have been part of their family. Even if you weren't a profiler, they welcomed you to one of Rossi's dinner parties just the same.

Emily loved to joke that you were their sweet, softhearted mommy, while Aaron Hotchner was their strict dad. You always laughed at that.

Tuesday, 4:32 PM

Penelope was maniacally tapping on her keys as she searched for information that the group asked her to look for. They flew out this morning, almost teleporting to Los Angeles for a fast-escalating serial killer.

A ringing echoed in her background, waiting for the recipient to pick up the call. The number was yours.

"[You've reached Dr. L/N's line. Please don't leave a message at all. Text me directly instead at 571...]"

She sat up, rolling her chair across her room to reach her telephone, and dropped the call. "No! Y/N! I need you to answer me so you can listen to my dilemma!" Penelope whined and speed-dialed your number once again.

You may be the BAU's psychiatrist for six years, but you have been Penelope's psychiatrist for eight years. You were there when she broke down about the horrors of their recent cases when she got shot and many more events in her life that she couldn't help but rant about to you. You were her friend, and you felt honored to become one.

Wednesday, 10:57 PM

"Something's wrong," Spencer announced, sitting on the swivel chair with his legs crisscrossed.

Hotch immediately lifted his gaze from the file he had in his hands, glancing at Spencer. "What did you find?"

What the Unit Chief didn't know was that his youngest profiler had been staring into space for a good 30 minutes. Spencer fidgeted on the hem of his slacks. "Dr. L/N has never been MIA for more than a day." He replied, unaware of his conversation with his leader.

"Reid. I need your focus on this mission and not Dr. L/N's?" Hotch diverted, bringing his attention back to the file in his hands.

Thursday, 7:00 AM

Spencer's statement didn't leave the back of Hotch's mind, sending you a text as soon as his alarm went off. He couldn't get a blink of sleep.

As much as he tried to think about the case, worry for a compassionate friend began to creep into his veins.

Hey, if you don't mind. Would you happen to have time for me to visit on Saturday afternoon?

He tapped the sides of his phone, staring at the screen. With a small sigh, Hotch exited the bed and got ready for work.

Within the ten minutes he spent showering, Hotch glanced at the screen with furrowed brows in the absence of your reply.

It wasn't like you were obligated to respond to him at that time of the day, but he had known you enough years to know that you were wide awake at the strike of 7 AM.

Hotch remembered clearly how the two of you coincidentally met at the park where he usually goes for a run. He learned then that you never fail to wake up at 5 AM in the morning, emptying your mind to make space for people's troubles that you gladly eased.

He dialed a phone number, "Hello, Garcia?"

Friday, 1:29 PM

The team arrived back to Quantico, wiped out and drained from the case, unenthusiastic about the fact that they had to stay for a few hours and complete some paperwork before they could finally go home.

"Did L/N change her number?" JJ walked in the bullpen, waving her phone to the others. She placed a hand on her hip as she navigated through her phone, preparing to edit your contact information.

Not to create competition, but JJ had it worst in their past case. The anxiety that coursed through her bloodstream needed the comfort of your soft voice. She would discuss it with her husband, Will, but you always understood better. She loved the way you explained her emotions to her, giving her a clearer vision of what she was feeling. It made it easier for her to express her feelings when she came home to Will.

Spencer perked up, "I don't think so. She's very consistent with everything. She would've told us if she changed her number." He sat on his seat with his legs crisscrossed.

Derek didn't waste a minute and dialed your clinic's main landline. They should've been calling there to set an appointment anyway, but they were too attached to you to even bother. In their eyes, you were the whole clinic; no other psychiatrist was available.

"[Hi, you are calling from...]" Multiple sighs of relief escaped from the four of them when they finally got someone to pick up the call. "[This is Alexa. What can I help you with today?]"

"I wanted to set an appointment with Dr. L/N, does she have any open spots for this weekend?" Derek asked, making eye contact with the three agents with him, assuring them that everything was alright.

Until it wasn't.

"[I'm sorry, Sir. Dr. L/N is not available right now, but—]"

"Is she on vacation?" Emily interjected, moving to the edge of her seat.

"[Uh, who am I speaking to?]"

They all exchanged looks. JJ leaned against Derek's desk, clearing her throat. "This is Jennifer Jareau from the FBI. I'm a friend of Dr. Y/N L/N and haven't been able to contact her in a while. I just wanted to ask if, by chance, you have other means of contacting her?"

A long pause. Worry began to creep over their minds. They could hear murmurs and movements, and after three minutes of waiting, someone picked the phone back up.

"[Good afternoon. My name is Dr. Basset, and I'm the head psychiatrist in the clinic. Unfortunately, we haven't heard of Dr. L/N since last Saturday. She hasn't been showing up for her shift either. We were getting worried because she wasn't answering her personal cell and home landline. One of our staff knew where she lived, but her apartment was quiet. They said no one answered the door.]"

Well shit.

That wasn't normal for you to just disappear. You always notified the whole team three months before you would go on vacation or requested leave. So, you being unavailable with your means of communication spiked up their worry through the roof.

They nodded to each other, making a wordless agreement that whatever was happening, it was clear that it was not something they should take lightly.

"Okay, Dr. Basset. Is there a chance you can provide us with any other information about Y/N? Her emergency contact, parents' names, anything would help us." JJ swallowed the lump in her throat. Where could you be?

"[Of course! Let me just go get it.]" Dr. Basset said, shuffling on his end.

Rossi walked out of his room with the intention of filling up his cup with another dose of coffee, but the expressions that the four agents had on their faces didn't pass his peripheral. "What happened? Did you all lose a bet with Garcia?"

Spencer turned his seat, "Dr. L/N is missing." He announced.

"Missing? Did someone report her missing?" Rossi knitted his brows. He wasn't frequent in your office, but he did have a monthly visit.

"She hasn't been to work for a week or answering any of our calls," Emily stated, biting the nail on her thumb.

"Call Hotch," Rossi told Emily, who didn't waste time nodding and went straight to Hotch's office. He looked at the others. "I know everyone is tired from the case, but this one is very important."

Derek stood up, leather jacket wrapping his lean build. "You don't have to tell us twice." He glanced at Spencer, who was already standing, clutching his messenger bag. Then, to JJ, who nodded her chin of approval.

Emily was about to knock on Hotch's door when it swung open, a file in his hand. "We have a case." He announced.

"But-" Emily attempted to intervene, but he continued speaking.

"We need to find our psychiatrist, Dr. Y/N L/N. Penelope's on her way to debrief us. Gather in the conference room in five minutes."

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 3)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, cliffhanger lol, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The engaged couple spent a blissful week in the Bahamas, with lazy mornings on the beach, where they enjoyed the sun and turquoise waters. They explored hidden coves, snorkeled among vibrant coral reefs, and took sunset boat rides that painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. Evenings were filled with romantic dinners by the ocean, where they savored local cuisine and each other's company. Between laughter and quiet moments, their bond deepened, making the trip a perfect escape from work and the stressful life they led.

On Monday, they were back home and back to work. The of them were at their respective workspaces catching up on missed work. Y/n sat at her desk, skimming through the files that were placed in front of her when the telephone on her desk rang.

“Winchester Co, this is Dean Winchester’s office.” She said answering the phone with a professional tone. She waited for the person on the other end to introduce themselves. It was Mary Winchester. After exchanging pleasantries Mary asked her if Dean was free. “He’s catching up on the work he missed while he was away.” She replied, almost saying ‘while we were away’ but caught herself before she could ruin it all. She knew she had to wait for Dean to tell his mother about them.

“Could you ask him if he can come home for lunch?” Mary said and Y/n nodded although the other woman can’t see her.

“If you’d give me a minute.” She replied asking her to be on hold while she goes and asks Dean. She knocked on the door and went in when she heard his approval. Dean looked up to see Y/n enter and his face immediately morphed into a smile. “Hey! Your mom called and she’s asking if you could go over theirs for lunch?”

“Am I free?” Dean questioned getting up from his chair and walking over to her. She nodded in response. “Well then you can tell her, I’ll be there.” He said holding her waist. “Might as well tell them about us.” He leaned down to peck her lips. Her face broke into a huge smile and she quickly kissed him but he deepened the kiss pulling her close. She pulled away from him.

“Your mom’s on hold, waiting for me.” She scolded him lightly and he chuckled. He let her rush out of the room but not before smacking her rear, and she turned to glare at him. With quick steps she reached back to the phone and with a deep breath she picked it up. “He said he’ll be there, Mrs.Winchester.” The older woman thanked her and hung up.

A few hours later Dean left to meet his parents. When he returned, Y/n was right where he had last seen her, at her desk working diligently. He really admired her for her work, she never used her relationship with him as reason to slack off.

Y/n looked up to see Dean coming back but he didn’t seem to be in a good mood. His brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed and his jaw was tensed. He seemed frustrated or irritated. He moved past her and went inside his office without a word. Y/n furrowed her brows at his behaviour clearly not expecting him to ignore like she followed him inside.

“Dean?”

“Not now.” He replied with a sharp intensity in his gaze.

“Baby what’s wrong?” She tried again but he didn’t answer her.

“I said not now, Y/n. Get out of here, right now.” He bellowed and she jumped back a bit. He knew he fucked up the minute he looked at her, before he could open his mouth to apologise, she shook her head and left the room. The whole day Dean tried to approach her but she gave him the cold shoulder.

Y/n went back home when she was done for the day. She was midway preparing her dinner when her doorbell rang. She sighed dropping the spoon she was using to stir the pasta sauce because she knew who was at the door. She opened the door and there stood Dean. He had bouquet of red roses in his hands and an apologetic look on his face. At least he knows he fucked up. Without another word she left the door open and went back to her food.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly entering the kitchen. “I really am, I’m an A grade asshole who doesn’t deserve your forgiveness but you know I’d be a mess without you.” He said standing behind her and pulling her into a back-hug. “I’m sorry sweetheart I promise I won’t do it ever again.” He mumbled in her neck.

“Never again?” She asked turning her head slightly to look at him better.

“Never.” Dean said sincerely. “I promise.”

“That was the first and the last time you’ve pulled this, you hear me?” Y/n said sternly and he nodded eagerly. “Forgiven. But—” she held a hand up before he could get too excited. “If you’re staying you’re sleeping on the couch.” She added. Dean’s eyes widened and he immediately protested.

“What- baby no!”

“Yes!” She said crossing her arms against her chest. “Just so you’d remember not to be a bitch to me next time.” Dean wanted to argue but he knew he was fault so he had to make it up to her by proving to her that he’s remorseful and he’d never do it ever again.

“Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said dejectedly. “But I’m not compromising on kisses.” He said turning the stove off and smashing his lips to hers. He picked her up and placed her onto to counter. He slithered between her legs, resting his hands onto her waist. “I’m sorry, i missed you.” He mumbled against her lips.

“What actually happened?” She asked pulling away from him. He tensed a bit, avoiding eye contact. “Did she not approve of us?” She questioned meekly, already coming up with the worst case scenario.

“No!” He excalimed quickly. “No, my mom, she just said some stuff that pissed me off and i stormed off before I could tell her about us.” He said looking into her eyes. “I disappointed you twice today, I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward for me to tell my family.”

“It’s okay Dean, I’m just worried about what she said that made you so angry. I’ve never seen you like his before.” She said running her hand through his hair and he leaned into her touch.

“Just about work, she thinks I’ve become impudent ever since I’ve become CEO.” Dean rolled his eyes repeating what his mother said.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n said not knowing what else to say. Dean brushed it off telling her it wasn’t her fault. Disregarding the issue Dean suggested dinner and the two of them sat in silence. After dinner Y/n declared she’s going to bed and Dean very sneakily tried to get in bed with her but she withstood her request.

“I had a bad day. And I said I’m sorry.” Dean whined like a child and she swore this man is not her boss. He is literally a different person outside of work and no one could ever convince her otherwise.

“No, just because you had a bad day doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. Let this be a lesson.” Dean reluctantly settled onto the couch. After hours of tossing and turning he had finally managed to fall asleep. Y/n looked at the clock, it read 3 am and she couldn’t sleep. Softly padding across her apartment she made her way to the couch, pulling the blanket off of Dean she settled beside him. Dean smiled in his sleep, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer. He knew she’d come around and she knew too that they’d both eventually end up on the couch.

The next few days were uneventful, Y/n went back and forth between home to work and vice versa, with Dean following her home everyday. It was normal Thursday afternoon, Y/n had just gotten off phone with Cas, she asked him where the hell has he disappeared to and he’d told her he had to fly to France for a charity event for a week. She told him to come back soon since she’s got news to share with him. Although she was pretty sure he was in on the plan when Dean suggested the vacation.

Y/n was buried deep in work when she heard the clicking of heels on the marble floor and she looked up to see a woman around her age sauntering over to her. She was ready to greet the woman with her well practiced professional smile but the woman walked past her towards Dean’s office. She quickly jumped from her desk chair and went behind her.

“Ma’am you can’t go in there.” The woman turned to face Y/n. “Do you have an appointment?” She asked but the brunetter shook her head. “I’m afraid I cant let you in there without an appointment.” Y/n said softly.

“I’m sure you’re just doing your job, darling but it’s fine. He won’t mind.” The woman replied with a smile.

“I wouldn’t be so sure ma’am, he doesn’t like unscheduled visitors.” She tried to be polite but she was running out of patience with this woman.

“It’s alright, I’m his fiancée.”

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01

[xoxoavenger]

I Can't Imagine

pairing: Michael Gray x Fem!Reader

summary: Michael and Y/N have a fight, one that seems like the most important thing until the Shelbys are served a black hand.

word count: 4549

warnings: canon typical injuries, canon typical gang violence, major character death (cannon, not michael or reader)

12 Days of Christmas main masterlist

"3-5-5 Small Heath," Y/N said into the telephone, playing with the ring on her left hand. Michael had proposed not even a week ago, she had moved in not even a week ago, and yet he had only been home when she was going to sleep about two times. It made Y/N livid, and she wasn't going to stand for it. It was almost Christmas, for Christ's sake.

"Shelby Company Limited," Michael answered, and Y/N sighed.

"Mr. Gray," Y/N spoke, listening to Michael's quick intake of breath.

"Y/N," He greeted back, his voice static over the phone. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?" He asked, obviously pulling out the pocket watch and looking at the time.

"Aren't you supposed to be home?" She shot back, leaning against the desk he had at home.

"I'll be there soon. I promise." His words made Y/N want to scream, because she knew she wouldn't see him until the morning.

"Why don't you tell Tommy Shelby that your wife wants you home." She spoke angrily, closing her eyes in annoyance.

"You aren't my wife." Michael shot back quickly, making Y/N take in a sharp breath. She thought about saying something snarky back, thought about going to the office in Japanese silk - and idea she had overheard Polly and Esme talking about.

Instead she angrily hung up the phone on Michael's quick apologies.

~

She hadn't fallen asleep but when she heard the door downstairs shut, she closed her eyes and pretended. She heard Michael come into the bedroom, heard his sigh as he took off his jacket and shoes, the clink of metal from his cuff links, the ruffle of cotton as he took off his shirt and then pants, leaving him only in his undershirt. He walked to the bed, gently laying down on his side before he put an arm around Y/N and pulling her close. She didn't snuggle closer like she would have normally, but instead stayed rigid and faced away from him.

"I know you're awake." Michael muttered into her shoulder, kissing the bare skin her night gown provided.

"Do you not understand why I would pretend?" She whispered, trying to ignore the flutter in her heart as he moved closer to her body, the hand that was around her waist feeling around to grab her hand.

"No," Michael's voice was soft and quiet, much different than it had been over the phone.

"Liar." She let go of his hand and rolled away slightly, onto her stomach, making it harder for him to cuddle her.

"Y/N," Michael said, leaning up in bed. Y/N closed her eyes, as if she could fool him now. "Y/N, please. I don't want to go to bed while we're fighting." He reached out for her again, and she pushed him off.

"We can stop fighting when you come home at a reasonable time." She told him, still not facing him.

"I'm doing important work." Michael said as he rolled onto his back.

"For Tommy Shelby? The man who put you on a noose?" She finally moved to her side to face him, barely able to see him in the dull light.

"He's the one who got me off the noose." Michael fired back, making her roll her eyes.

"You wouldn't have been on the noose if it weren't for Tommy!" She was yelling now, and Michael sat up. They had fought before, sure, but she never brought up the time he had almost died. It seemed she was saving it for a rainy day.

"We wouldn't have met if I didn't work for him." It was true; Y/N and Lizzie had worked together, so when Thomas had brought Michael around for some fun Y/N was the one who gave it to him. Michael quickly became a regular, and soon she was payed handsomely and told that she wouldn't need to see anyone else - it wasn't long before her and Michael were official and she learned the Shelby ways.

"Well, what would I know? I'm not your wife, after all." She turned over silently, closing her eyes for the final time that night.

~

She woke up when Michael had gotten out of bed, kissing her forehead as he stood up and then again when he left. She wasn't going back to sleep, so after she knew he was gone she got up and got ready herself. She did a couple chores around the house that the maid didn't do, like cleaning Michael's office and their room. It had been quite awhile when she collected the mail. She went through it, not opening much because it was for Michael. She did pause on the last one, which was sent from New York. America.

"What the hell?" Y/N muttered, putting the other mail down and going into Michael's office for the letter cutter. She opened a couple drawers before she found it, rummaging around and almost cutting her finger on it. She opened the envelope to a card, the content of which was a black hand.

What was that supposed to mean?

She shoved the card back into the envelope, heart racing. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

She grabbed the telephone, pressing the small button twice before she was connected.

"3-5-5 Small Heath," Y/N waited to be connected, leaning on the desk and looking at the envelope once more. She didn't fully recognize the name, even if it did seem familiar, but she had never been to America, so she didn't know where it was anyway.

"Hello," Well that was not Michael.

"Tommy Shelby," Y/N said with malice. She hated Tommy for what he did to Michael, to his own flesh and blood. He was a slimy man, and Y/N refused to put up with him.

"Y/N," Tommy greeted her back, and Y/N just sighed.

"Where's Michael?" She asked before he could say anything else. She didn't want to listen to the leader of the Shelby clan; in fact, she would rather never think of the man again.

"He's on his way to Polly's right now. Had to give him a couple pointers on how to get her back to being Poll." Y/N sighed - she knew that Michael's mum wasn't doing well; her time in prison and in the noose had effected her badly, and Y/N and Michael went to visit her at least once a week. She was surprised that Michael went without her this time, especially because he hadn't even told her.

"Did you tell him to go see her? Because you can't fix problems on your own?" She wondered, brows furrowed and her face hurting from it's frown.

"This problem is better suited for Michael." Tommy told her, causing her to roll her eyes.

"Well, it is a problem that you created, furthering my point." Y/N shot back, trying to keep herself from crinkling the envelope in her hand.

"Did you need something?" Tommy asked through a sigh. Y/N took a deep breath - they were practically family now, and Michael respected him. Although she would never respect Thomas Shelby, she would try to act civil.

"I just got a letter in the mail. From America." The line was silent, and she thought it was disconnected for a second until she heard Thomas breathing. "It's from an Italian name. The card was just a black hand." She told him. She hadn't even finished talking before Tommy was swearing.

"Pack a bag and bring some stuff for Michael. We all need to be in Small Heath." He told her, which made her even more pissed.

"We got this house so that we wouldn't have to live in Small Heath." She hoped Tommy could hear her annoyance, could hear her wanting to punch him multiple times.

"I know, but this is the Mafia. The Changretta's are coming after us." He told her quickly, and she heard rustling paper on the other line. Y/N's eyes widened. She didn't work for the Shelby Company Limited, but Michael practically told her everything that Polly, Lizzie and Esme didn't. She knew that Arthur had killed Mr. Changretta, the name she now recognized on the envelope, and she knew that the Mafia was bad news.

"Fuck," She whispered, staring at the envelope. The envelope that was addressed to their house. "They know where we live," She thought aloud, everything coming crashing down.

"Yes, which is why we need to get to Small Heath."

"Well then," Y/N sighed, setting the envelope down. "Guess we'll all be together for Christmas after all, Tommy."

~

"I'll be back soon, I promise. I have to go get John." Michael told her as they put their bags into one of the upstairs rooms.

"I'm coming with you," Y/N told him. By now it was early in the morning, the sun rising on Christmas. They hadn't slept, both of them worried about the anvil that seemed to loom over the Shelbys.

"No, Y/N, you aren't. If John was served a black hand they know where he lives too, and I don't want you to get hurt." Michael told her, taking his gun out of the holster, checking it, and putting it back in.

"Well, I don't want you getting hurt." Y/N fired back, raising her chin as they stared down at each other. Michael knew he didn't have time for this, so the best he could do was hope the mafia hadn't gotten to John's yet.

"Fine. But you stay next to me at all times and do exactly as I say alright?" He agreed, opening the door of the room for her before leading her down the stairs and out of the house, right to their car.

"Of course, Michael." She smiled as he helped her in, sliding all the way to the passenger side. "I know you can protect me." She put a hand on his thigh as he started the car and watched as his face heated with blush. He turned to kiss her quickly before pulling out onto the road.

"So," Michael started as he began driving out of the small town. Y/N turned to look at him. "I didn't mean what I said on the phone the other night." Y/N rolled her eyes and leaned against her door, sighing. Part of her wanted to forget about their fight.

"I don't believe that." She said quietly, waiting for him to either shut up or lash out.

"I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't feel that way." He told her sincerely, turning out into the country roads. "I wouldn't have proposed if I didn't want you to be my wife."

"It still hurts! I was just asking for you to be home and you decided to use my feelings against me." She shot back, heart racing. She didn't like fighting with Michael, but she also didn't like when he treated her like that.

"Your feelings? I was speaking the truth." Michael told her, and she shook her head, looking out the window.

"You clearly do not understand, so let's talk about it later." She told him, effectively ending the fight. They were almost to John's house anyway. They were even on his road when a slow horse pulling hay practically stopped them.

"Come on!" Michael shouted, hitting the steering wheel. It was obvious he was stressed, and Y/N hoped she was hiding her own emotions. John had kids and a wife, he had a family. She hoped he was fine. "Move!" Michael shouted, causing her to jump slightly as he hit the horn. The man with the hay eventually did move, and Michael quickly swerved around the trailer, making his way all the way to John's.

Once they pulled in behind John's car, Y/N went to open her door. "Stay in the car." Michael told her, hopping out.

"No! I'm not leaving your side, remember," She was still pissed, so even if she had made an opposite promise she wouldn't have stayed in the car. She practically had to jog to keep up with Michael, resisting the urge to grab his arm as they walked through the driveway. The two walked around the side, going through the gate before they heard a shotgun reloading.

"Oh, fuck, it's you two." John said as he came out of his small hiding hole, putting down his gun. "Got nothing better to do on Christmas morning?" John asked, looking down at them. Michael grabbed Y/N's hand, holding it tightly. She let it happen, because she needed some strength to get back to Small Heath.

"Tommy wants everybody at Charlie's yard now. Come on," Michael dipped his head toward the cars, speaking quickly to show his urgency.

"Get in. Get in!" John yelled at the dogs, who walked back through the door right as John shut it. He jumped down from the ledge, leading Y/N and Michael to the front of the house. "Nice to see you, Y/N." John tipped his head to her as they walked, and Y/N just smiled. She hadn't seen the Shelby brothers since Thomas had sent them to the gallows, and she had to say that she regretted it. John had always been nice to her, even if they didn't talk much.

"Is Esme here?" Y/N asked, knowing it was a stupid question. Even if Esme hadn't been one of Y/N's closest friends, it was Christmas Day. Of course Esme was at home.

"Of course she is. It's fucking Christmas Day. What does Tommy want, a fucking family reunion?" John asked, turning onto the patio.

"Look, John, we don't have time for this." Michael said, clearly getting more and more stressed just by being there.

"Alright, come into the house," John spoke just as Michael was finishing, "Just come to the meeting."

"Come on, John," Y/N begged as they walked up to the door.

"Have some food." John continued to ignore them, opening the door. Just as he did, Esme came running out. Instead of going toward Y/N like they all thought she would, she walked straight up to Michael.

"Tell Tommy Shelby we can look after ourselves." She seethed, making Y/N sigh.

"Tommy says they could come for us today." Michael spoke, but Esme was taunting him before he had even finished.

"'Tommy says, Tommy says'. Are you his fucking parrot?" She yelled. Y/N grabbed her arm, turning her toward herself.

"It's the Mafia, Esme! The New York fucking Mafia!" She watched Esme just shake her head, and Y/N's heart sunk. She had to get through to them.

"And we're the Peaky fucking Blinders." John said, gun still slung over his shoulder.

"No, we're not, John. We're not the Peaky fucking Blinders unless we're together." Michael told them, obviously losing his patience.

"You were together on the gallows, with one man missing." Esme turned back to Michael, getting into his face in rage.

"Esme, I know you're upset because trust me, I am too. But in the city we have more protection, more people. We can't risk death just because of a stupid man like Tommy." Y/N tried, but Esme wasn't listening. "Just come to the meeting, at least. Think about the kids." Y/N took her hand from Michael and put it on Esme's shoulder now, and everyone turned slightly at a slight noiseto see the hay horse that Michael had passed on the way passing by the house.

"If you want to leave after, that's fine. Just come with us." Michael begged, and Esme turned her head back.

"No. It's Christmas Day. We're the family now. We're staying at home." She got closer to Michael and Y/N pushed her back slightly, not wanting a fight to break out.

"Get in the fucking house!" John shouted as he loaded his gun. Y/N looked over to see men jumping out of the hay, guns firing. Esme began to run, grabbing Y/N and forcing her to follow into the house. She heard the deafening gunshots, and her heart began to pump faster.

"Michael!" She yelled, reaching out for him. He pushed her away, and Y/N stumbled as Esme dragged her. She couldn't catch herself in time, her knees hitting the concrete just before her her head smacked. She hit hard, jarring her. She could hear the guns and screaming and she knew Esme was now yelling at her, pulling her further toward the house by her under arms. She blinked quickly, trying to regain her senses. Her jaw, cheekbone and eye socket screamed in pain, and she groaned as Esme let her fall. She turned to sit up, head rolling as she took in the scene in front of her. Esme was screaming, holding John close to her. She felt her heart race as she realized there was blood staining John's white shirt. She looked over to see Michael, on the ground.

Y/N's heart plummeted.

"Michael," She groaned, pushing herself to stand. Esme's screams were piercing, and Y/N could barely focus. Everything was blurry, and she wasn't sure if it was because of her head or the fact that she was sobbing uncontrollably. She could barely see as she stumbled around, falling to her knees when she was close enough to Michael. The pain shot all the way up her legs and down to her toes, and she felt bile rise in her throat as a surge of pain when through her head.

"Call someone! John!" Esme screamed as Y/N reached for Michael. She used her might to pull him over, trying to figure out how much he was shot.

"Oh God," Y/N retched, turning her head to throw up. Blackness was consuming her, and her head become fuzzy as she fell right next to Michael, still trying to grab him. He shakily grabbed her hand as she dropped her head to his shoulder, feeling him move around in pain.

"Y/N," He groaned. She lifted her head, realizing her face was now wet from tears.

"Michael, oh my," Y/N's throat was tight, her breath was heaving in and out. More bile was rising to her throat from the pain and the horror of seeing the Shelbys being shot. She turned again, letting go of his hand and throwing up. It felt like her heart had just stopped beating, that her insides had knotted together and her throat was swelling. The right side of her face throbbed, and she just wanted to go home.

One of the kids must have heard Esme, because soon enough an ambulance was pulling into the front yard.

"Help!" Esme screamed, and Y/N turned her head to see four men get out of the ambulance. Two went to John, and two came to Michael.

"Please move so we can help him, miss." A man said, gently pushing her back. When she looked up at him, his eyes widened. Y/N wasn't sure why he was looking at her like that, so she moved back to Michael's side. He was breathing still, but it was pained and his eyes were closed.

"He's gone," Another man said as he came up to Y/N and Michael. Esme's screams were louder, and Y/N felt her heart sink; John was dead.

"We need to get these two to a hospital." The first man said, nodding toward the car. The two men who had been looking at John first left, and Y/N turned to see them going to the car to grab out a stretcher.

"Is he gonna be alright?" Y/N asked, tears in her eyes. She didn't want to lose Michael. She didn't want to be left alone.

Oh God, and they had just fought, too.

"We'll try our best." The man nodded. Y/N tried to calm her breathing, because it was hurting her face, but she couldn't.

The men came out with a stretcher, helping Michael onto it. He groaned out, and Y/N winced they picked him up and took him into the car.

"Why don't you come with us, miss? We need to check out your head." A man held his arm out to her. Y/N looked over to see the other man talking to Esme, who was still screaming and crying.

"My head?" She asked as she grabbed the man's arm. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion - she could only see flashes, like one second she was on the patio and the next she was in the front of the ambulance. The man was asking questions, but Y/N wasn't answering. She could barely hear his words. When she went to lay against the door, her head so fuzzy her eyes were closing, she was instantly brought back to the present. Pain surged all the way across her face, practically rattling her teeth. She jarred awake, blinking quickly.

"Are you alright?" The man driving asked, and Y/N sat up, looking around. They were at the hospital in Small Heath, and she jumped out when they stopped. She stumbled, however, falling to the ground and scraping her hands, her knees crying out. She let out a gasp in pain, about to get up when someone grabbed her and helped her up.

Thomas Shelby.

"You," Y/N seethed, seeing red as he looked at her.

"Y/N, what happened?" Tommy asked. This was one of the only times Y/N had ever seen Tommy afraid, and it made her even more mad.

"What happened?" She repeated, grabbing his biceps as he pulled her up. "What happened was you, Thomas Shelby! What happened was you can never inflate your own ego enough!" She screamed, tears falling out of her eyes as she hit him. She clawed at his face, smacking his chest with open hands and fists. She was angry and upset and tired and hurt and she was taking it all out on him.

"Y/N, please," He begged, grabbing her arms. They were locked like that when the men pulled Michael out, who was groaning in pain, eyes squeezed shut.

"Michael," Y/N muttered going to her fiancé. Tommy grabbed her however, which caused her to hit his arm in an attempt to make him let go. His grip was unwavering, and when he pulled her into him she realized she was screaming, face pressed against his suit. When she finally stopped screaming, her head pressed against Tommy's chest as he cradled her head, she heard Esme's horrified cries.

"No," Tommy said, his grip tightening on Y/N as he realized why Esme was screaming. "No, please," He was begging, and all Y/N could do was cry and lash out.

"He's dead!" She cried as she pushed Tommy away, her head spinning as he let go of her, numb. "And now Michael," Her voice was breathy and she was stumbling, not able to hold herself up.

"They're going to take care of Michael," Tommy promised, shooting a hand out to steady her as she began to fall to the ground. "Are you alright?" He asked, but then she began to lose her balance even more, bringing him down on the muddy ground with her.

"I need to see Michael." She said her breathing getting more labored. Tommy helped her lean against him so her head didn't hit the mud, using the opportunity to examine her bruise.

"He's going to be okay. We need to get you in, your face," He trailed off, not sure how to describe it. Her jaw and cheekbone were swollen, and although she probably hadn't noticed her eye was also almost swollen shut.

"Michael," She breathed, and Tommy's thoughts jumped to the fact that if he were to marry again, this would be the kind of girl he didn't want; one who didn't even care that half her face was smashed in because he was shot.

"Y/N, come on," Tommy tried to pull her up, but she was practically dead weight.

"Fuck you, Tommy." She muttered out, grabbing his jacket. She was shaking, and Tommy was worried about her. "Fuck you." Her eyes were closing, her grip loosening.

"I need help!" Tommy yelled, watching a couple men come out of the building.

"I hate you, Thomas!" Her voice croaked. It wasn't louder than her breathing, and her voice was cracking.

"How did you hit your head?" He asked, moving her hair out of her face and using the hand on the back of her neck to move her head and see the extent of her bruise.

"Get the fuck off me!" She hit him, but it was more of a tap. "Let go of me," She rolled over and onto the mud, coughing as if she were going to throw up. It took Tommy a couple seconds too long to realize she really was dry heaving. The two men had come over to her, grabbing her arms and picking her up to take her into the hospital.

"Make sure she gets the bed next to Michael Gray." Tommy said as he got up, pretending like he hadn't noticed the mud caked into his pants.

"Thomas Shelby is a coward!" Y/N yelled weakly as she was carried in. "He's a coward and he will do anything for his own gain. Even kill his own family!" And he hated to admit to himself that it was true.

~

"Why aren't you laying with me?" Y/N woke up to Michael's voice behind her. She had been laying towards the wall, because she didn't like sleeping on her back and she couldn't put pressure on the right side of her face. She sat up to turn, and she knew when Michael as realized the bruise. She realized belatedly that she couldn't open her eye all the way, and that her head was throbbing in pain.

"You were shot," She muttered, sitting up all the way and pushing off her bed. Her dressing gown fell short,  much before her knees, her feet completely bare. Her cheeks heated as she realized someone would have had to undress her, and she hoped it was Ada or - more likely - Polly.

"Yes," His voice was gravelly, but he seemed awake, and she wondered how long he had been awake. "My mum came by, she said to tell you she was the one who undressed you. That she fought with physicians to get them away from you." Michael was reaching for her now, and she moved to grab his hand, letting him pull her close and arrange her so that they could lay together.

"When I saw you on the ground - oh God, Michael." Her breaths were short, and although his eyes were closed he was rubbing her back. "I was so afraid you were dead. Before we even got married." He let out a small breath of laughter, still not opening his eyes.

"I can't imagine how Esme feels." He muttered, making Y/N's heart drop.

"I'm sure Tommy is getting a good picture." She said, thinking back to when she had gone crazy as Michael was taken into the hospital.

"He told me about your episode." Michael said softly, and she just closed her eyes. It was embarrassing to think about the way she had screamed at him the way she had thrown a fit outside the hospital and completely collapsed.

"I thought you were dead." She whispered, eyes closed for fear of what he would say.

"If I were you, I probably would have given Tommy a new scar." Michael rubbed her back a couple more times before they settled into bed to sleep.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler

[kaizsche]

in my dreams, you love me back

a starlight/homelander fic set during s3e06, a missing scene (kind of) inspired by red velvet's in my dreams.

warning: delusions. angst. more delusions and more angst.

note: thank you thank you thank you so much to DelightfullySad and @finnismyoriginalsin for being the numero uno numba one enabler. if it weren't for them i wouldn't be here writing for starlander. i owe them my life. period.

crossposted on ao3

He felt the absence of her presence like a phantom limb. 

They have been inseparable the past few weeks. Ashley had coordinated their schedules to accommodate their PR relationship stunt. Where he went, Starlight naturally followed. Silly interviews about their relationship and public appearances were staged. 

He even began to enjoy her company despite her corpse-like enthusiasm. The moment he realized this, he began seeking more of her. His lips lingered long after their perfunctory kisses and his hands, he found, if not at the small of her back, were either wrapped around her waist or intertwined with the softness of her hands.

There was an odd moment of embarrassment but also smug satisfaction when a reporter wrote an article about them. How sweet! Homelander can’t keep his hands off his girl!

John supposed his recent business venture as the new CEO of Vought made him forget about everything else. He was lost in the technicalities and in turn had lost sight of what was important. 

Starlight. Annie.

To make matters worse, Soldier Boy rose from the dead, his appearance a cause for immediate concern. Nobody at this moment would be able to make the connection that Soldier Boy was behind all the explosions but the instant someone did would be ruining everything he worked hard for. 

Before that could happen, he needed to kill Soldier Boy. Fast. 

That was when he remembered. 

“Don’t you think that maybe the best way to handle this is to find him?”

If there was anyone who had information about Soldier Boy, it was Annie. Though, if it had been a day since she hadn’t reported back to him on the matter, maybe she wasn’t better off.

Her apartment was empty, much to his confusion. He was under the impression that she was scheduled to shoot an advertisement for a skincare company and yet her costume sat idling inside her walk-in-closet. 

For a moment, his traitorous mind entertained her connection to Soldier Boy’s reemergence. 

What did you expect, you fucking idiot! A distant voice in his mind screamed for attention. You killed her ex, you think she wouldn’t retaliate?

John whimpered, But she did it first. 

Just shut the fuck up and let me think.

He spied his gleaming reflection off a white telephone and dialed Ashley’s office.

She answered on the first ring. “Starlight? Where the fuck are you—”

“Where’s Starlight?” He questioned, ignoring the sudden spike of her heartbeat at the sound of his voice echoing from Starlight’s telephone. In Starlight’s room.

Ashley answered with a long suffering sigh, “I don’t know, Sir. She just took off without informing anybody.”

He drummed his fingers in silent contemplation, his eyes taken to examining every intimate detail of her room and stopped, glaring lasers at the offending image positioned right next to her bed.

“Alright. Call me when she comes in.”

He left the comfort of her room not before accidentally bumping into her framed picture with Hughie.

You’re acting like a spoiled brat. 

John dismissed the voice as he retreated to his quarters. It continued to whisper nasty things in his ear that Annie was likely an accomplice. He knew how much Butcher and his skinny side-kick Hughie (who happened to be her boyfriend) detested him. John wouldn’t put it past them to summon Soldier Boy in an attempt to level the playing field.

The voice grew louder, snapping insults in his ear about his weakness—that he had too much humanity in him. That it was disgusting and he was absolutely embarrassed to be him. 

He grabbed for the remote blindly in an effort to distract himself. 

“...he children had all signed a letter thanking Starlight and Homelander for their generous donation to the hospital. Starlight met with patients with kidney failure whose lives were dependent on machines. They are on dialysis three times a week for four hours — until they can have a transplant. The process, however, takes years because of a shortage of donors.”

Annie sat cross legged, surrounded by children. She held a children’s book in her hand, reading to them in silly voices. Different camera shots of children bursting into laughter at her antics flashed through the screen, some of it even catching teary-eyed parents. 

The scene changed. Annie was speaking to a kid with sunshine locks and blue eyes. 

“Dominic for instance has been…”

A lump formed in his throat at the sight of her arms around the boy. The screen transitioned to another shot of Annie cradling him in her arms like a babe as she spoke with a doctor. 

What the fuck? Get your shit together, man!

He closed his eyes, lost in the image of Annie and the boy.

John you fucking halfwit! Get back here! I’m not done with you yet! JOHN! YOU MOTHERFUCKER—

He stirred to the faint sensation of being rocked to consciousness. 

“Dad!” The voice screamed. “Wake up! I’m going to be late for my recital!”

John stuffed his head deeper in the sinking softness of his pillows. A hand snatched it out of his chin, his forehead making contact with the headboard in a loud bang.

“Wha…” A woman mumbled beside him. 

“The fuck?!” He exclaimed.

“Mooooommm! Dad said a swear word!” Before he could recover from the damage upon his forehead, there was another blow to his head—too soft to ever bruise him but a hit that took him off guard.

He rose to meet the attacker, the heat of his lasers igniting the low rage simmering within him. 

And stopped at the peculiar yet welcome sight of Annie’s bed head and her legs tangled in cream sheets. A smaller figure dressed in pajamas blocked his figure, meeting his rage with a smug smirk so reminiscent of his own. 

“Pay up!”

He blinked. His throat was so dry he was simply unable to respond. Bewildered, he sought Annie’s help. 

She frowned, but complied nonetheless. Annie laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder, her voice raspy in the quiet morning. 

He was unable to follow their conversation for he had been occupied with the room he seemed to have been sleeping in. It was a modest bedroom, he noted, filled with mementos. There was a compilation of images of his unlived life with Annie.

His temple throbbed with the effort of remembering. A continuous ringing occupied his hearing the more he examined each picture. Memories flickered in his mind like sifting sand through a screen.

What is reality and what is not?

At the center of the images was a baby girl swaddled in his colors. 

Something itched at the back of his head, a memory long forgotten.

“Wendy?” He tested.

His daughter faced him with a beaming smile, her lips thinly pursed like his own but she had her mother’s nose. 

“Are you—”

John tackled the two of them in a tight hug, dotting kisses to whatever part of their faces he could reach. Twin echoes of shrill laughter brightened the morning as they struggled against his sudden display of affection.

“Dad, stop! It tickles!” His daughter cried, short of breath. 

He pulled away, reluctant to not be within her presence but remembered the urgency of the situation. “Chop chop, ladies! We don’t want to be late for the recital!” 

Annie smiled at him with a question in her eyes once Wendy left to go prepare for the big day. 

“What was that all about?” 

He leaned to press a gentle kiss against her lips but moved to her cheek at the last second. Somehow he knew she didn’t like to kiss with morning breath. 

“It was nothing.”

Her soft fingers gripped his wrist, “Are you sure?”

John chewed on the inside of his cheek in contemplation. Should he tell her the truth? That he wasn’t the man she married but a fraud? A momentary lapse of insanity to give peace to his troubled mind? But doing so would be akin to ruining the dream. 

John wasn’t quite sure he was ready to face the world just yet.

And so, he said, “I love you.”

“I love you t—”

His consciousness spoke to him in loud banging noises. Like what he did as a child when he begged for any scrap of attention. 

Welcome back, you fucking pussy. I’ve taken the liberty of actually getting our shit together. This’ll be the last time you do this to me. Do you hear me, you absolute piece of—

John heard her before he saw her. He had locked on to the gentle cadence of her heartbeat drowning all but the sound of her.

Annie sat down, sighed, and cleared her throat.

He moved without knowing, driven by the remains of his dreams, seeking her touch. The comfort, the soothing balm she alone could provide. 

“I’m really glad you’re here.” 

When all he wanted to say was, “I love you.”

He continued, driven by the questioning look in her eyes so reminiscent of the wife in his dreams. 

“I missed you.”

When he wanted to tell her, “In my dreams, you love me back.”

[aphrogeneias]

got angst on the brain thinking about shy!r getting torn up by tabloids when her and rockstar!eddie go public with their relationship, like how would eddie comfort her or stick up for her? is there anyone else they know that would support their relationship and try to help get the press of their backs?

rockstar!eddie x assistant!reader's first tabloid scare. alexa play nothing else matters by metallica.

At first, you're distracted by seeing your boyfriend on the cover of Metal Hammer when you pass the newstand on your way to your boss' office.

He's there pictured in all of his glory, wielding his guitar on stage, all wild eyes and sweat. You try to keep your smile to yourself as you reach out to take a closer look at the magazine, taking it in hand. That's when you notice the girl behind the small counter looking at you.

You struggle to make eye contact, but there's something about the way she's looking at you, like she's trying to recognize you. She's young, you can tell. Bright pink blush on her cheeks, neon scrunch high on her hair, couldn't be older than seventeen. There was no way she knew you, you'd never seen her before.

When you continue to keep your head down, she finally speaks up. "Is that you?"

The girl points to another magazine, stacked together with all the other gossip and tabloids. Printed on the cover is a picture of you and Eddie, leaving his apartment in the city. Your face is there, clear as day, and so is Eddie's, though his is the most recognizible one.

Trembling, you leave one magazine behind and open the one you're on, and finally finding the article in it. There's more paparazzi pictures from that same day, and the comments on that article are not the nicest. Who are you? Who is this mystery girl? She's not a model, she's not an actress, she's not a socialite. Isn't he out of her league? What is he doing with a girl like that? Was that only a one night stand? It better be, though Eddie Munson used to keep better company in his bed.

"Fuck." You curse, only a whisper as you walk away. Away from that vile article, from the violation of your privacy, from the look of pity of the girl at the newstand.

Finding the nearest payphone is a hassle when your legs are shaking, your heart feels like it will burst from your chest, and your trying to keep the tears at bay. You try not to think too much about how wanted Eddie to be here. Not that he would know what to do, but he would know just how to hold you to keep you from falling apart, and that would be enough.

That fact was you weren't being careful. After you became official, you just stopped hiding. There was no reason to in your minds, all the people who mattered already knew, it wasn't anyone else's business. You were naive, both of you, but you blamed yourself the most. You should have known better, having worked in this industry for long enough to know what happens in cases like this.

It seemed like your entire body was shaking by the time Eddie answered the phone. Hearing his voice didn't make you feel better, though. It only made you feel worse.

"Hey, Eds. Do you have to talk?"

"Always have time for you, baby. What's up?" You could picture the boyish grin on his face. Probably sitting on the couch of his uncle's new house, the one Eddie bought for him as soon as he got his first big check after their debut album's sales skyrocketed. You wanted to crawl on his lap, then, and never leave.

"I'm gonna call you back from the office. It's... kind of an urgent matter. Is that okay? Just stay beside the phone."

In those situations, you didn't know how, but you were always able to keep your composure. Your voice didn't betray you, but Eddie knew. He knew your tells from miles away, through the telephone chords.

"What happened? Talk to me."

It was enough to break through your walls. You grab the phone a little tighter, press yourself closer to the booth. "They know about us. The press, and I guess everyone else at this point. We need a contigency plan, something to steer away attention, I don't know..."

"Are you okay?" Eddie interrupts. "Are you safe? Where are you?"

"I'm okay, I promise." Your voice sounds a lot smaller than you wanted it to. You try to sound strong to not worry Eddie further, but the words on the article keep running around your head. Were you really not good enough for him? Probably not. Definitely not. "These people are fucking mean, though." You whine.

You hear some shuffling on the other end, and then a little bit of silence before Eddie speaks up again. "Here's what you're gonna do. You're not gonna listen to whatever bullshit they're saying, whatever it is. We know what's real, we know about us, and that's all that matters. What matters is that I love you, okay?"

"I love you too." You manage to say, not trusting your voice to say anything else.

"We've been through this once, we got through it, we're gonna do it again."

"I know. I'm just... scared. I'm supposed to be anonymous, you know? A backstage person. Your job is to be in the spotlight, not mine."

"Then I'm gonna get you out of that goddamned spotlight, you hear me? I'm getting on the next plane there. Stay with Rick, have him deal with this. I'll be there in no time, I promise, sweetheart."

The noise of the city around you seems to dim as you focus on his reassurance. The breath you let out is shaky, but it has some relief in it. You knew what to do.

"I promise, okay?" Eddie doubles down on it. If he was there, he'd make you lace your pinky with his, you're sure of it.

"Okay."

[sunboki]

CHARMED.

Billionaire! Hwang Hyunjin x Detective! F. Reader

criteria | detective au, suggestive *not proofread

word count | 0.9k

authors note | another random piece in its testing phase created while i was in the passenger seat *sigh*

synopsis | Feigning your identity as the director of a successful company wasn’t all too difficult, but when it came down to actually busting billionaire, forbes magazine cover Hwang Hyunjin’s scheme, things can become a little .. messy. Especially when he invites you to a rooftop dinner.

The urge to bury your head in your hands is blaring, and you’re certain a bald spot will appear any day now after all the tugging you’d done in the past few days.

No leads, nothing.

In fact, if you hadn’t put so much into this case, if you hadn’t previously learned of the Dusa Enterprise’s affiliations you would’ve shut down the investigation altogether. But you didn’t because you knew of the tactful expertise Hyunjin’s used to go about his ways. In a sense that the man would stop at absolutely nothing to get what he wanted regardless of the circumstances.

So what you hadn’t anticipated after this madness was to have your coworker Mei come running up to you in a flurry, whisper-screaming that someone wanted to talk to you from the office’s telephone.

Hello, this is Representative Hwang Hyunjin of Dusa Enterprises’ Advisor. Your presence has been requested at…

You’re jumping in your chair at this point, nearly swatting Mei in the face from your flailing arms as you listen to the details of the call before the Advisor abruptly hangs up.

Taking a few seconds to turn and look at each other, you both erupt into cackling laughter, beyond pleased that your shared effort was not in vain.

“You’ll never guess who just got a one-way ticket to exposing Dusa Enterprise.”

“I’m delighted to see you’re enjoying the ambience. It wasn’t easy booking a reservation for this place.”

You knew that was a lie. This wasn’t just your average person, it was Hwang Hyunjin. Who at a single beck or call could have a reservation, heck, reserve all the tables here.

“I’m afraid of heights.” You sound, making your hand appear shaky as you reach for your glass once more, hoping to eradicate the sight of him observing you. Initially you’d been too blinded by relief to realize who you were indeed going to be dining with, feeling a little bit more, horrified instead. Your last dance would be looking into his eyes, and despite the confidence you’d summed up till this moment, no liquid courage could help you meet that gaze.

“Then don’t look down, look at me.”

You clear your throat, blinking hurriedly to aid in maintaining whatever composure you had left.

“I would prefer not to.”

“Why is that?”

He’s walking a tightrope, using his front teeth to nip at the skin the moment you finish speaking. There is a never time to waste if you are Hwang Hyunjin. The man is a tiger in his ways of reverence.

How would you answer, how could you answer without spilling your guts? Too much analysis, too much.

The sound of glass clinking beckons you from his fingertips and for a split second you do— catch a glimpse of his predatory glower hidden behind an innocent smile that stretches plump cherry lips. You’re enchanted.

“Because,” You balance your chin on your fist, summoning a tilt of your head that draws him closer, or perhaps it’s a figment of your imagination.

“If I do, I might do something I’ll regret. And as you know, I don’t have relationships with my business partners.”

A bubbling laugh creeps from his throat, painting the air an intoxicating crimson when he tips his head back. It’s hard to tell if it’s a sarcastic outburst or not. Lots of things the serpent Hyunjin leaves you to speculate.

“What if I told you I wanted to see what you’d regret. Not as business partners, but normal people.”

Debating on either making a smart comment or maintaining your sophisticated disposition, you weigh the options whilst silently thanking the tinted glass for concealing the nervous slip of your foot in and out of your heel.

“Oh Mr. Hwang, you’re far from a normal person.”

His innocent smile bares its face once more.

“I’m charmed, but there’s no need to be so nervous. I guess you didn’t think I’d notice how frantic your leg has been bouncing since we’ve been talking. Surely you’re not uncomfortable?”

Your breath hitches and you practically fixate on the darkening of his chestnut orbs, manipulative. Reaching into the very crevice of your soul. He’s onto you. Almost like he knows.

It terrifies you.

“Not at all. I hope you understand though that this is a big opportunity for my company and I can’t help but stress these matters.”

Your cover up is flat but contains enough potential to keep you afloat, for now.

The blond hummed a response, shrugging his jet-black coat till the fabric bunched up enough to see what time was displayed on a Rolex that’s price you didn’t have the capacity to assume.

“Ah, it seems an appointment of mine will interrupt us. Dearest apologies.” You nod fervently, admiring the sweep of his suit when he stands. A click of his heel on the marble flooring echoes when he begins walking past you until he stalls, stooping down to where his expensive fragrance tickled your nose.

“We’ll have to meet again sweet thing, your acting is impressive. Keep it up and you might fool me one day.”

And he walks out, him, his Advisor and Bodyguards at his disposal.

all rights reserved by @sunboki. repost and plagiarism will not be tolerated.

[shinmiyovvi]

That's Not My Neighbor Timeline

This timeline will show some tidbits of what would be the story of my ocs before the events of the game itself because I have my brain working late at night and I want to share this with you guys :3. This will contain some spoilers about the formation of the D.D.D. and the beginning of the Trojan Horse Project.

1945

Oswald D. Keppler founded the Department of Doppelganger Detection as the General Director of the said department.

The Trojan Horse Project was funded by the Military Department of the Government with Keppler as the General Director of the project and Dr. W. Afton as the Lead Scientist of the said project. 

Some of the prominent employees of the department are Dr. Stanford Abelforth and Dr. Aditha Gulliver who have contributed their expertise in their specialized fields. Both are dedicated to the experiments being conducted in the lab and were praised by many.

1946

A teenager Ollie was scribbling in his notebook about vehicles, fascinated by the world of motorsports. While engrossed with his hobby, a loud noise can be heard outside of his room. His mother cried from fear as she tried to grab the telephone to contact the police, only for the doppelganger that was in the form of his father to kill her before she could utter a word through the phone. Curious and frightened, Ollie rushes out of his room to get the whole glimpse of the disgruntled form of his father. 

Before the doppelganger can kill Ollie, Lazaro happens to arrive earlier than expected as he quickly grabs Ollie away, causing him to have a scar on his right eye. He then grabs his pistol and shoots the doppelganger 4 times. Despite knowing that it's just the doppelganger of his older brother, he feels guilty for doing it. After the events had happened, Ollie then lived with his nonna and aunt throughout his life before moving in to live with his uncle.

In the same year, Ruslan Gulliver, the husband of Aditha, was hired by the D.D.D. as the first doorman of the apartment building that he would be working on. Throughout his job, he encounters different doppelgangers of the tenants in which he is capable of diminishing the differences between the original and the latter. 

1947

Aditha begins to feel unease with the project as she only tells her concerns about Stanford which he is the only person she could trust. Although she also wants to reveal the purpose and objective of the project to her husband Ruslan while having a dilemma whether to reveal it or not, her life is cut short after finding out that Afton happens to hear her conversation with Stanford. Her death was orchestrated by Afton who sent out a doppelganger that was in the form of her husband to “silence” her before she could even report this to the authorities despite the project being funded by the government as she believes this is considered “immoral” and “dangerous” to humanity.

The real Ruslan finds out about this from Stanford as he goes to save her, only to see her dead by the said doppelganger. Out of pure rage, he grabs a sledgehammer, hitting the doppelganger several times before he is now covered in blood. The next year, he quit his job as a doorman before returning years later as a building janitor to reveal the truth beneath the lies of the department.

1951

Delora is an office clerk who works the 9-to-5 shift at a business company. After her shift, she plans on visiting her parents after a tiring day at work from filing documents to answering phone calls through the telephone. When she arrived at the Steding Residence, she noticed the door was open. Curious, she went inside the house, hearing faint weeping noises from the kitchen. To her surprise, she saw her “aunt” from her mother’s side covered in blood as the cold lifeless body of her parents was lying on the floor.

Her “aunt” told her a fabricated story where a doppelganger got inside the house while she was visiting her parents to bring some apple pie. She also stated that she already called the police and was on the way to the scene. Delora noticed the slight difference between her aunt as she doesn't recall her having amber eyes and her mother has grayish ones as well as a mole on her chin. Not buying the story, she grabs a kitchen knife and stabs the doppelganger that was impersonating her aunt at least 7 times as the police arrived into the scene.

One of the officers tries to arrest her but Lazaro stops them midway from handcuffing Delora. He wants to interrogate her first from the beginning until the end of the story about the death of her parents and her alibi. She was taken to the station and asked several questions, once her alibi was considered valid, Lazaro let her go and ended the case. That day forward, Delora becomes more cautious around her surroundings as she develops mistrust of the people she happens to meet.

1955

The business company Delora worked in suddenly went into bankruptcy, causing her to lose her job as an office clerk. While looking for other job opportunities, a mysterious man who happens to be one of the members of D.D.D. gave her a proposition of working as a doorwoman of the apartment building. He believes that her skills of telling which is the doppelganger could stop the rampant invasion of doppelgangers in the building and would be a vital help towards society. Delora was hesitant at first, but she agreed either way.

In February of the same year started her job as the doorwoman of the building in which she encountered different tenants living in each apartment room of the said resident. There she met Ruslan and Stanford who shared a distrust of the D.D.D. and told her to be mindful of the organization that hired her. Throughout her time as a doorwoman, she begins to feel doubtful of the organization as she wants to find out the truth from the lies that the government fabricated to keep the image of the D.D.D. intact. With her snooping around, Dr. Afton becomes more mindful and observant of her actions as her involvement will cause them gravely.

[handeaux]

Memories From Half A Century Ago; The Cincinnati Tornadoes of April 1974

On the evening of April 3, 1974, your narrator interviewed a woman who found a perfectly new, pristinely crisp, twenty-dollar bill in her front yard. This random occurrence of good luck became newsworthy because her miraculous benefit had floated down into her yard from a passing cloud that had recently spawned an F5 tornado.

At the time, I was not a reporter exactly but everyone that evening became either a reporter or a source. The memory of that day remains so fresh and clear it seems impossible that it transpired exactly fifty years ago.

In the fading afternoon, a heavy storm blew in as I drove a clunky Ford Econoline van from the Hopple Street Viaduct onto Westwood-Northern Boulevard. I was, at that time, a senior at the University of Cincinnati desperately yearning to graduate and move on to the next chapter in my life. To cover tuition, I worked as a printer for the Western Hills Publishing Company. Our offices were on Davis Avenue in Cheviot and our printing presses occupied a floor in the historic Crosley Building on Arlington Street in Camp Washington. My duties as the junior member of the printing crew involved shuttling copy and page flats from the editorial offices to the typesetting and composing staff.

As I climbed out of the valley toward the English Woods housing development, hail scattered across the road. Hailstones rattled on the van’s roof, then pounded, then stomped. It sounded like some gremlin with a baseball bat hammering on the roof as ice balls the size of oranges smashed into the asphalt all around. Tree branches cracked and split and thatched the roadway.

Somehow, I made it to Cheviot and pulled into the Press parking lot. It was full of people, just standing around. I got out and looked at the van. The roof looked like a moonscape, there were so many dents in it.

“Hey! Look at this,” I shouted. No one turned or said a word. And then I saw why.

Stretching from the horizon halfway to zenith was the tornado. It was impossible to comprehend the scale. More than two miles away, we heard no sound except endless sirens calling to one another from every direction. Where we stood transfixed it did not rain. There was no wind. There was only the tornado.

“Look at all that paper swirling around,” someone said.

“Those are garage doors,” another answered.

We watched as the horrendous vision scraped its way northward, the finger of God plowing a furrow along South Road out in Mack. We watched as it withered and lifted and twisted into nothingness against a pallid sky, waving it seemed in farewell at last as it vanished. We stared at each other, silent, unable to find any words.

Gradually, we realized that all the lights were out. There was no power in the offices. The publisher sent me around the corner to a hardware store to buy all the candles they had in stock. It was going to be a long night.

At this point, for the benefit of readers younger than I, it is necessary to explain a few details. The cash register at the hardware store was mechanical. It did not require electricity, much less Wi-Fi, to operate. The editorial offices were stocked with manual typewriters. The telephones were landlines, on a separate network, and functioned even when the power was out. Everyone had a battery-powered radio.

Anyone with the ability to write a coherent sentence became a reporter. I was sent out, still wearing my printshop uniform, in the divotted Econoline, to gather eye-witness reports. I found a small crowd at the Western Hills Country Club who had been herded into a downstairs bar while the sirens howled. They queued up for every available telephone to check in with their families. I found people in shock, wandering through piles of rubble that had been their homes, clutching any random possessions they recovered. I saw ambulances backed up in a line, waiting for utility poles and power lines to be moved. I saw people wrapped in blankets, standing in the middle of nothing left, sobbing on each other’s shoulders.

There were people who swore they saw two funnel clouds and people who claimed there were four, twisting like snakes in the sky. There were people who confessed to being so transfixed by the surreal wonder of the twister that they stood paralyzed as it swooped down on their houses.

And, in the curious way the universe laughs at we mere humans, I found humor.

There was the guy who, in a dispute with his insurance company, was photographing damage to his roof when the warning sirens erupted. He saw the funnel approaching and dove into his basement. When he emerged, his roof was gone, and so was the rest of his house, but he bragged that he had the photos to press his prior claim.

I talked to one of the rescue workers who told me about a kid, maybe 15 or 16 years old, who approached him and begged him to hide a bottle of vodka. The kid didn’t want his mother to know he had the bottle hidden in his bedroom – the bedroom that was now nothing more than a debris field.

Meanwhile, at the University of Chicago, Dr. Theodore Fujita drafted a questionnaire to be sent to almost every newspaper, every radio station, every television station in the country. Dr. Fujita asked a lot of questions about the duration and intensity of the 148 confirmed tornadoes reported that day. He and Allen Pearson of the National Severe Storms Forecast Center hoped to refine the tornado classification system they had created just three years previously. Someone at the Press filled out the questionnaire and sent it back.

A year later, having graduated from the university and transferred to the newsroom, I found a largish cardboard tube lying amid the usual pile of news releases and complaint letters that constituted our daily mail. On opening the tube – it was addressed to no one in particular – I found a map of the eastern United States titled “Superoutbreak Tornadoes of April 3-4, 1974.” Dr. Fujita, compiling all those questionnaires, had mapped and labeled every one of those 148 tornadoes.

In the center of the map, there was my tornado, the only tornado I have seen with my own eyes, officially designated as an F5 monster.

[satoshi-mochida]

Analog horror game Home Safety Hotline coming to PS5, Xbox Series, PS4, Xbox One, and Switch on September 20 - Gematsu

Puppet Combo will release Night Signal Entertainment-developed analog horror game Home Safety Hotline for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, and Switch on September 20 for $19.99, the companies announced.

Home Safety Hotline first launched for PC via Steam on January 16.

Here is an overview of the game, via Puppet Combo:

About

Our operators are standing by, waiting to give you the answers you need to protect your home from all manner of pests and household hazards. Home Safety Hotline is an analog horror inspired telephone operator simulator where you answer incoming callers’ questions about what’s inside their home. Read through a vast catalog of common pests and household hazards, and do your best to become an expert in home safety. You will be held responsible for what happens. A new horror experiment from Nick Lives, the creator of NiGHT SIGNAL and A Wonderful Day For Fishing.

Navigate a vast catalog of safety information using the latest in 90s technology.

Listen to original jazzy lo-fi music by David Johnsen while you place callers on hold.

Correctly deduce what’s in your callers’ homes or else leave them to suffer the consequences.

Learn about the various untold horrors that live inside your home.

“Phobia Toggles” – An accessibility option that allows you to disable in-game images for common phobia triggers including arachnophobia and more.

Unlockable Art Book detailing the game’s development history.

Includes the Bonus Downloadable Content “Seasonal Worker”

It’s 1996, and there’s only four days left until Christmas. Rebecca, a yearly seasonal employee at Home Safety Hotline, has been brought back to help answer the helplines during this busy (and deadly) time of the year. Many strange new household hazards come out during the holidays and some of them may mark the end of all things above and below the soil. Welcome back to Home Safety Hotline. We’re all counting on you, Rebecca.

A new four-day storyline set during the holiday season.

28 new horrifying entries to discover, featuring the art of Trevor Henderson, Eduardo Valdes-Hevia, Lou-Ellen Allwood, and Omega Black.

Meet new fully voice acted characters and callers, featuring the talents of Longmont Potion Castle!

Live to attend the annual office Christmas Party.

Watch a new trailer below.

Consoles Announce Trailer

[telephonereceptionservices]

Office Telephone Answering Company in Brantford

When businesses look at outsourcing their call handling, it is only normal to want the best. When looking for an answering service, do not just look for an answering company; your first line of interaction with your customers will define your reputation and the quality of service you give out. Make sure your answering service partner has the following qualities:

Professionalism

The biggest reason to hire a telephone answering service for your office is to provide human contact for your customers. Ensuring that the people answering your calls are trained to represent you with competence and professionalism is vital. Hiring an office telephone answering company with untrained and unmotivated phone operators is worse than shunting callers to voicemail. Listen to several calls, or make some test calls yourself before deciding who to partner with for your office telephone answering services.

Specialisation

As your company meets your customers' specific needs, so should your telephone answering service. Whoever answers your phone should be trained to answer questions regarding the basics of working hours and your products and services. As such, they should address your callers' needs to reflect your business's professionalism. 

Competence

Calls need to be answered promptly, on the first or second ring, with minimal hold time. Let your team gather information quickly but accurately without putting the caller on hold. Even something as simple as the spelling of a caller's name is essential. A call protocol should be in place that allows the phone agent to identify calls that require immediate action and carefully redirect less urgent calls. You expect your employees to represent your business professionally and courteously toward every customer. You should expect and receive no less from your office telephone answering service. Callers should feel like your call answering service is an extension of your company.

[country-corner]

Greetings and Salutations from the Middle of Nowhere

I know it has been a while, this is the first time I have been able to get on line. Have to use wifi right now so limited in time I have on line

Update on our home sale and purchase of new place:

A young couple with a pre-teen boy, purchased our old house. And since (so I have been told and confirmed with my own eyes) has proceeded in cutting down all the trees, the Saskatoon blueberry bush, pulled the table and Oregon grapes out and cut out all the blackberry vines back to the property line. They also have 3 cars in the old garden area sitting on blocks. The old neighbors have told us they want us to move back. Sorry, not happening.

Regarding our new place; we have a larger place. It is a mix or basalt, jack pines in sandy soil and some really nice soil. Put in 500ft of driveway (cutting trees, pulling stumps and dragging the "road"). Now the power company will come out and give us a bid to bring in the power (less than a quarter mile from nearest transformer).

Did have a bid from a well driller, but they wanted the driveway in first, now they are not answering their phones. So we are contacting a different driller tomorrow.

Telephone company wont put in a land line. since we are "too far away from the main road". 1 mile long private road, that nearly everyone on the road wants to have a land line due to spotty cell service (closest towers are over 25 miles, as the crow flies, away, with a few hills inbetween as well. Closest telephone pole to my place is a little over 1/4 mile as the crow flies, and found out the telephone company does have legal right-away up to my property line, coming from the East across country.

The previous owners refuse to release the perk test they had done or the name of the engineer they had do test and septic design. Since no permit for a septic system was ever requested, the County doesn't have a copy of the test, engineer name or septic plan. So we are going to have to have that redone.

And finally, the Post Master refuses to accept the address the county gave us for the property for mail delivery until (in his words) "There is a proper house with a foundation on the property and he has confirmed it with his own eyes." Despite the fact the address has been accepted and used by both State and Federal offices. And in this state a tent or camp trailer is considered a legal residence if placed on your legally owned property. So we are getting our mail delivered to our daughter's place, 35 miles away.

Despite all of that, we are having the time of our lives out on our new property. Enjoying the wildlife and the peace and quiet of being out there. Laying out the food plots for the deer. Using the native basalt to build the raised garden beds. We have even started digging the trenched for the root cellar and fuel storage sheds. And not a day goes by when I don't see wild turkeys or a deer on the property. Did miss seeing the black bear that came through, running from the wildfire on the other side of the river, we was in town getting supplies.

Well that is all for now. I wish you all peace, happiness and a great upcoming week. Be safe and take care.

[wilderebellion]

Mentopolis: Wordplay for Episodes 1 and 2

(One for episodes 3 and 4 will be coming)

Cerebell Pacific - The cerebellum is a part of the brain that affects motor control and, to some extent, cognitive functions. In the city of Mentopolis, this is where the Synaptic Switchboard resides. Older telephones utilized switchboard systems. The name is a play on one of the real life telecommunications companies that formed under the Bell System. [Side note: Pacific Bell became AT&T California and Bell Atlantic became Verizon.]

Occipital Park - Occipital means related to the back of the head. The occipital lobe has several areas related to vision. Possibly a play on New York's Central Park.

Cortex City - The cortex of the brain handles higher functions like consciousness. The cortex has 4 lobes: frontal, parietal, temporal, and occipital, which seem to be a LOOSE basis for the mapping of the city's districts. It is NOT a one-to-one correlation, though. Many famous cities are nicknamed as ____ City, such as Empire City (NYC) or the Windy City (Chicago).

Motor City - A section of Mentopolis that corresponds to the limbic system. This area contributes to behavior, memory, emotions, motivation, etc. Also the nickname of Detroit due to the automotive industry.

Imelda Pulse - (Impulse) Her family is influential, not simply because they are "old money" but because they are among the few who can directly influence The Big Guy. The Pulses may have been here before the city was founded, which I took as referring to the stages of fetal development. Imelda herself is prone to being reckless in an impulsive sense, to both positive and negative effect.

Hunch Curio - (Curiosity) He's a private detective motivated by curiosity, and eager to answer questions. He isn't always the deepest thinker; he tends to take a pretty simple approach. His body of work is built on answering pretty much any query that crosses his path. Unlike Danielle's character, he seems to thrive on the "puff piece" mysteries that she's grown tired of, and they often run into each other while working. To their mutual frustration.

A real swingin' dick - Fun wordplay here. A shorthand way to refer to a detective, typically a private investigator (see the Theme song for Shaft). It is also, of course, a slang term for male genitalia. Makes for easy double entendre: Hunch is a real on-the-move, following-the-clues professional, and/or he maybe has a big penis.

The Fix - (Hyperfixation) A fixer of situations. The Fix eliminates distractions, as requested by the DA's office, that could compromise The Big Guy's work. He's not only efficient, but he LIKES his job, weirdness and all. He is honest, straight-forward, and genuinely nice most of the time. He has a fondness for children though he's not instantly better at interfacing with them compared to adults.

Mark Bition - (Ambition) Can we PLEASE talk about the detail of that TIE, though?! It's doing so much for not only the art composition, but also just informing the personality of the character. Like, yes, obviously, homeboy's the District Attorney, he travels in a fancy car with a souped up engine, is well-dressed, etc. HE WEALTHY. His stocks and social status are on the RISE! But there's also a slightly unnerving, possibly sinister undertone to him. That arrow-esque tie not only evokes rising wealth, but also kinda resembles a devilish tail.

Don Avaricci - Part of the criminal underworld. Avarice is greed. His enforcers/thugs/goons include Roscoe Hungry, Johnny Gullible, and Simon Praise, to name a few. Per the Adventuring Party for "The Scattered Mind", Brennan indicated this crime family is all "appetites" of a kind.

Conrad Schintz - Con Schintz (Conscience) Conrad is a "too small" boy living on the streets and selling newspapers. He's the under developed moral compass for Elias Hodge; he has an inkling of what good and bad decisions are but has reservations about speaking up.

Justin Fication - (Justification) The only part of Elias' mind that isn't humanoid. Which is sort of a fascinating choice - that the part of his mind that requires REASON is remarkably intelligent, but also the most animal-like. If Justin is somehow a manifestation of Conrad's who goes away when the kid starts to grow up I will lose it

Anastasia "A" Tention - (Attention) As a reporter at the Daily Observer, it's pretty straightforward that she's got a keen eye. What sets her apart from Hunch is she's after the Bigger Picture and things making sense. She's less prone to instigating violence, but she can keep her cool under pressure

While we see the first name Anastasia on the character card, I noticed Danielle mostly refers to her character as A. Later conversation suggests she is a less well-known relative of the Pulse family, which might make her name originally A. Pulse.

A Pulse -- > Being "on the pulse" of something means to "be aware of the latest things happening" about a topic, which lends itself very well to a reporter.

It's possible the names Anastasia and Imelda were chosen because they sound uppercrust, or because of their connections to influential families. More literal name meaning seems less likely at this juncture, but with D20 anything is possible. (While Anastasia is related to resurrection, the name Imelda is related to an all-consuming fight or powerful battle)

Anastasia's file number is 001, and Imelda's is straight up ?? - I got a little lost in the sauce a few days ago trying to analyze everyone's file numbers. At first, Imelda's seems like a fun nod to her being the "mysterious" femme fatale type - and yet, because of the genre and how talented Siobhan is, I'm now instantly suspicious that some other shoe is going to drop. Like she's secretly working for the DA or Don Avaricci or something to obfuscate the mystery.

Norrell Ojiccle - (Neurological) Murder victim, employee at Cerebell Pacific for the Switchboard. Seemingly an average brain citizen. He may have sought out the prohibited Oxytocin at Sugah's due to loneliness. His death is quite possibly the first domino in an onset of Depression for Elias Hodge, or something more complicated. Also, he has four arms. I'm not letting that art detail go until we get a crew Adventuring Party for this season. His file number refers to the police code for a murder.

Daniel Fucks - Proprietor of Sugah's, and the go-to guy for pleasures and delights, carnal or otherwise. The pleasure center of Elias Hodge's brain.

Sugah's - Located in the pleasure center of the brain. The name refers to sweets. In this setting, this is the speakasy/club where you come to find something to feel good. Pleasures could be based in anything one might find enjoyable, but the establishment seems to be popular as of late because of the prohibited substances due to city ordinances.

Donna Fucks and Club Spice - Due to improv worldbuilding from episode 2, these may now exist. Donna is the sister (possibly twin?) to Dan, based on the correlation between pain and pleasure. She runs a parallel club (possibly with more adult themes) and works even more than Dan does.

Leon Logic - Mayor of Cortex City. Insistent upon how much "sense" his campaign makes. His abbreviated name L. Logic could suggest illogic - though this is not confirmed. Maybe he's just the "face" or "mouthpiece" of the leadership structure, and someone else is coming up with the "big plans" for Elias.

Hans Schadenfreude - (Do I really have to explain this one? Avenue Q has a whole song about it) Okay fine - coming from the wonderful German language, this refers to deriving pleasure from the misfortune of others. Every Hans interaction is S Tier, he's probably my new fave Brennan NPC.

Libby Longshower - She's the waitress at Sugah's, which suggests she's some kind of pleasure. She might be a simple one, the feeling of luxuriating under hot water. Her name might also be a nod to the more physical self-pleasures that one someone might enjoy and it results in a long shower. Her file text describes her as one "steamy" tomato and her file number might be a reference to a police code for lewd conduct.

Joey Sneezes - Seems to be a specific type of pleasure, the relief of a good sneeze.

Oblongata Station - The Medulla Oblongata is where your brain and nervous system connect. It has a lot of functions, which makes sense why the stationmaster in Mentopolis has so many different levers to access certain functions. The trains seem to operate along the nerve connections. The stationmaster's name is Max Medulla [although I think the character file spelled it with one "l".]

Chief Alexander Tightass - Literally A Tightass. The uptight chief of police. Works in conjunction with the DA's office but only within the bounds of the law. He's not immune to temptation (see flirting with Dan Fucks) but he doesn't give in to it. He's very committed to his job, much like Elias has been for Gobstopper Industries.

Donny Urges - An urge/desire/impulse that seems to have become an Intrusive Thought. Now neutralized.

Freddy Focus - Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Observer. He has one big eyeball which is also the logo for the newspaper. He seems to intense but limited perspective - he prioritizes urgency and short-term developments over the "bigger picture" stuff. Maybe the one eyeball also indicates this lack of perception.

Receptors - Not really a pun, but they function much like post office workera or message couriers. Different receptors report to different authorities: Wilton, for instance, answers to Dan Fucks.

Millie and Ollie - Workers at the memory bank which is the library of the Hippo Campus.

Wilton - An elderly pleasure receptor from the genitalia. His appearance is a reference to "blue balls" and his name is clearly a play on "wilting" as in a flaccid penis.

Shock troops - Also known as assault troops in the real world, they are formations to lead an attack. In Mentopolis, they are a personification of actual Shock following a trauma. They jump into action to silence pain through violence and arrest.

[anachronic-cobra]

So I'm in Salem, MA rn due to housing circumstances, taking a nice weekend at the Hawthorne hotel, and figured I'd toss in some photos of very haunted historical sites I took on a night tour

1-4 - the Salem Witch Trial memorial and burying point/charter cemetary. Allegedly haunted by the Woman in White, who died in a house fire

5 - this house is largely still the original wood and material from when it was first built. A man who bought it feared it would be taken by the government as a historical site, so he encased it in stone to disguise it as a newer building. It was protected from the elements for 300 years this way.

6/7 - building built over what used to be the jail where people accused of witchcraft were kept in coffin cells in hellish conditions. Originally the Bell telephone company and social security offices worked in this building, but when employees of the phone company became too terrified to answer the phones, hearing screams on the line frequently, they had to leave the building. Now it's rental space for offices, as they can't keep any businesses there long-term.

8/9 - belong to a very wealthy man who was VERY certain he was going to be murdered, and who apparently appears very frequently. Tour guide believes it's because he feels vindicated hearing people talk about the fact that he was, in fact, murdered. Also, this is the house that inspired the board game Clue!

10 - across the cemetary where Giles Corey was pressed to death and later buried are the houses that the houses in Monopoly were modeled after, which is a dichotomy of facts I was not expecting to learn today

[intlstudents]

Office Receptionist

Location

Brampton, ON

 

BenefitsPulled from the full job description

Designated paid holidays

RRSP match

Tuition reimbursement

Full job description

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Dawn Foods is a global leader in bakery manufacturing and ingredients distribution. As the partner of choice for inspiring bakery success, we help customers grow their business through meaningful partnerships, research-driven insights and innovations, and products and expertise they can depend on. As a family-owned company, our commitments to our people, products, customers, and corporate values, are all part of our recipe for success.

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Why work for Dawn Foods?

PEOPLE. PRODUCTS. CUSTOMERS.

Why should you apply? We invest in you!

Industry-leading health insurance after 30 days

Competitive Pay

Generous company retirement benefit contributions

10 Paid Company Holidays

3 weeks of vacation each year

Professional training

Family-owned business over 100 years in service

An opportunity for career advancement, working as part of an empowering workforce

What will you do as an Office Receptionistat Dawn Foods?

Answer all incoming telephone calls, direct appropriately and/or take messages

Meet and greet all visitors and provide assistance as required

Oversee and control all office courier services in accordance with standard operating procedures

Manage incoming and outgoing mail and upkeep of postage equipment

Manage invoices in AP system related to Brampton location

Maintain adequate stock of all office and building supplies and control the supply room.

Assist Customer Service team members when needed.

What Does It Take to be an Office Receptionist at Dawn Foods?

Below are the minimum qualifications to be a fit for this job.

Minimum 1 year of experience in an administrative role

Detail oriented and have the ability to work independently and complete objectives.

High School Diploma or GED.

Ability to multi-task

Maintain confidentiality

Proficient in Microsoft Office, including Excel, Word, PowerPoint, Outlook and Teams.

SAP experience preferred but not required.

Physical Demands & Work Environment

The physical demands described here are representative of those that must be met by a Team Member to successfully perform the essential functions of this job. Reasonable accommodations may be made to enable individuals with disabilities to perform the essential functions.

Ability to work in a professional office environment. Will be expected to work onsite.

Specific vision abilities required by this job include close vision, distance vision, color vision, peripheral vision, depth perception, and the ability to focus

Note: The level of physical effort may vary from site to site and in some cases be greater or lesser than documented here.

If this sounds like the opportunity that you have been looking for, please click "Apply.”

About Our Benefits

Dawn is proud to employ the top talent in the baking industry, and we reward our people with competitive compensation packages and award-winning benefit offerings. We also help protect our Team Members’ future financial health with a generous RRSP matching program that provide additional retirement funds and many tools and resources on financial wellness. The contributions start from your first pay. Dawn also encourages professional growth through tuition assistance and educational programs, and we are always searching for ways to improve our industry-leading services and benefits.

Compensation: $41,430 - $62,150 Annual Salary

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An Equal Opportunity Employer. All qualified applicants will receive consideration for employment without regard to race, color, religion, age, sex, national origin, disability, pregnancy, sexual orientation, gender identity/gender expression, citizenship status, military or veteran status, genetic information or any other status or condition that is protected by applicable law.