#telephone on hold messages for business

[studio52sblog]

Learn how on-hold marketing can fuel your business growth. Explore effective strategies and insights to maximize your marketing potential with Studio52's expert guidance.

[studioaudio]

Transforming the Waiting Game: Crafting Effective On-Hold Messages with Studio52

In today's fast-paced world, waiting on hold can be a frustrating experience for customers. However, with carefully crafted on-hold messages, businesses can transform this seemingly mundane moment into an opportunity to engage, inform, and strengthen customer relationships. Studio52, a leading media production company, specializes in creating impactful on-hold messages that elevate your brand and enhance customer experience.

The Significance of On-Hold Messages

On-hold messages play a crucial role in shaping customer perceptions and enhancing brand reputation. They serve as a valuable touchpoint, providing an opportunity to:

Engage customers: Keep callers engaged and entertained, reducing the perceived wait time and alleviating frustration.

Promote products and services: Highlight new offerings, special promotions, or upcoming events to generate interest and drive sales.

Reinforce brand identity: Convey brand personality and values through messaging and voice talent selection.

Provide useful information: Share company updates, industry insights, or helpful tips to demonstrate expertise and value.

Crafting Compelling On-Hold Messages with Studio52's Expertise

Effective on-hold messages strike a balance between engagement, information, and brand messaging. Studio52 helps you achieve this balance with expert guidance:

Concise and Engaging Content: Our team crafts concise messages that capture attention and keep callers engaged, ensuring a positive waiting experience.

Varied and Informative Messages: We create a mix of content, including product promotions, company news, and industry insights, to keep listeners informed and engaged.

Professional Voice Talent: Studio52's extensive network of voice actors allows us to select the perfect voice that aligns with your brand's personality and resonates with your target audience.

Regular Updates: We ensure your on-hold messages remain fresh and relevant by regularly updating content to reflect current offerings and maintain listener interest.

Explore Full Blog on Crafting Effective On-Hold Messages: Examples, Writing Tips, Significance, and Benefits

Examples of Effective On-Hold Messages

"Thank you for your patience. Your call is important to us, and we'll be with you shortly."

"Did you know? Our new product line has just launched, offering innovative solutions for your everyday needs."

"Stay tuned for our upcoming customer appreciation event, where you can enjoy exclusive discounts and rewards."

"Visit our website to learn more about our company's commitment to sustainability and social responsibility."

"We appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts on our recent service experience by completing our online survey."

Benefits of Effective On-Hold Messages with Studio52

Well-crafted on-hold messages can yield significant benefits:

Improved customer satisfaction: Reduce caller frustration and enhance the overall customer experience.

Increased brand awareness: Reinforce brand messaging and create a positive brand image.

Enhanced sales opportunities: Promote products, services, and special offers to drive sales.

Strengthened customer relationships: Build trust and rapport with customers through informative and engaging content.

On-hold messages are more than just fillers for waiting time; they are strategic tools for enhancing customer experience, promoting brand identity, and driving business growth. By partnering with Studio52, you can craft compelling and informative messages that transform those moments of waiting into opportunities for engagement, information, and brand reinforcement. Let Studio52 help you create on-hold messages that leave a lasting impression on your customers.

[ipcommunications]

Future of VoIP Business Communication Solutions – Let's Hear It from Experts

In terms of business communication solutions, voice over internet protocol or VoIP is considered the cornerstone of several businesses' communication strategies. They allow us to make and receive calls over the Internet and, thus, reduce the cost while staying accessible from wherever possible. For several decades now, VoIP has been very instrumental in helping businesses establish a high-performing remote work setup. People often imagine what is the future of VoIP and this question is what we have also tried to answer in this post.

Increasing Demand for Unified Communications

It is expected that, along with digital handsets, the demand for unified communication will also increase in the future. Unified communications mainly refer to integrating several solutions like hosted voice phone, audio/video conferencing, instant messaging and file sharing, all integrated into a single platform by the service provider. Unified communication will make business functioning faster and easier and allow companies to find specific contacts and coordinate with their teams easily.

Improved Service Quality

5G technology is now becoming a common thing across the globe, and it has boosted Internet speed several times. Till now, the congested or slow network was a detrimental factor as far as VOIP and video conferencing software usage was concerned. But now, this will become a thing of the past, as 5G will result in improved VOIP calls and information sharing.

Artificial Intelligence and Voip

It is expected in the future that artificial intelligence will become more prominent in terms of business communications and also VoIP. According to industry veterans, artificial intelligence will make voice-to-text easier in VOIP phone systems. It will make recognising conversations and converting voice into text much more effortless. Then it is also believed that interactive voice response, or IVR, will get a complete makeover with the help of artificial intelligence.

The future of VOIP and business communication looks great, as it will deliver an Omnichannel experience and efficient customer services to the clients. Then artificial intelligence is also believed to make cyber security further stronger on VOIP networks. It will protect sensitive data and prevent businesses from any social engineering scams.

[izurou]

STOP TELEPHONING ME FT. BLUE LOCK MEN

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

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

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

SHIDOU RYUSEI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MICHAEL KAISER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MIKAGE REO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ITOSHI SAE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a reward worthy performance, he thinks.

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

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

BACHIRA MEGURU

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fallatyourfeet]

Empty Promises (Tommy X Wife Reader) One-shot

Summary: Tommy can be a cruel man sometimes, but YN still loves him.

Word count: 746

Warnings: Nothing really.

A/N: This is my first fic in a long long time. It's short but hopefully sweet.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

“Tommy, you promised”. Standing at the empty desk of his Arrow House study, you held the telephone receiver to your ear staring at your reflection in the window. It was so dark outside that the pane of glass worked perfectly as a mirror. You looked good. Really good. Beautiful even. Exhaling silently, your eyes dropped to the rug beneath your favourite pair of heels. It felt like forever since you had a reason to put on a beautiful dress and powder your nose. And after countless empty promises from Tommy to get home early and take you out, you thought that tonight he was finally going to come through. No less than an hour ago he called to say he was a minute from leaving the office, and now… well, he was still in that very same office telling you that something had come up and not to expect him home before midnight.

The familiar click of Tommy’s tongue travelled down the telephone line to your ear, “I’m sorry YN, I need to close this deal tonight. It shouldn’t be taking this long… but there was a problem with the contract… it’s getting amended right now.”

Frustrated, you shook your head as if he was standing right in front of you, sure he could hear the shortness in your voice, but you were unable to bite your tongue. “Jees Tommy, I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go… Why couldn’t you let me know an hour ago?” Giving him no chance to reply, you huffed, throwing a hand in the direction of the sitting room, “And what about Polly… she’s already here to mind the kids.”

Clearing his throat, you could swear Tommy’s voice just broke a little. Was he amused by your frustration? “Don’t worry about Polly, she’ll use any excuse to see the children… she won’t care.”

Letting slip an annoyed grumble, you sank into the chair beside you. Staring into the darkness outside your frustration began to fade as disappointment took hold, your grumble finishing with a defeated sigh, “I just wish… I wish… I don’t even know anymore… I miss you, Tommy. I just want you to myself… for one night.” That was the moment you noticed headlights turn in at the top of the driveway. Sitting upright, you focused on the car, but it wasn’t familiar. “Who’s that. Tommy, were you expecting anyone tonight?”

Tommy asked, “What about two nights, eh?”

Confused, you stood up and walked around the desk to the window, scrutinising the car as it made its way up the driveway, “What do you mean?... Are you expecting someone?”

“What about two nights,” Tommy repeated.

The car rolled to a stop out the front of the house, leaving you even more confused. It was a brand-new Rolls-Royce limousine, complete with its very own chauffeur. Suspicion crept upon your voice as you spoke, “What are you talking about, Tommy. What do you mean, two nights?”

A soft chuckle sounded from the other end of the telephone, his voice now clearly amused, “What I mean is, no business, no races, no horses… nothing. Just you and me for the whole weekend to do whatever the hell we want.”

You fell silent a moment, unsure what was happening. This was completely uncharted waters; Tommy had never done anything like this before. You could hardly string a sentence together, “What? Whatever do you… I don’t… What’s going on?”

Mumbling something about you being adorable when you're frustrated and confused, Tommy chuckled again, before elaborating. “See that man out the window, that’s George, your chauffeur. He’s going to collect a suitcase in the foyer that Polly has packed for you and bring you to me.” Giving you a moment to collect your thoughts, he waited before clearing his throat, “So why don’t you go upstairs and kiss the children goodnight for me and tell them we’ll be home in a couple of days.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t contain the joy in your voice, “You’re such an ass, Tommy. Why couldn’t you just tell me, instead of torturing me like that?”

Tommy laughed audibly, “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you hurry up and get your own ass down here and you can punish me in any way you want.”

With a devilish voice, you sighed, “Oh Tommy, my love. Don’t you worry about that… I’ve got the whole car ride there to decide… and believe me, I already have a few ideas.”

[herejusttosufferalong]

Pancake anon here.

Whew, where to even start! It has been a week.

At this point, I think I'm just as confused as the rest of you. However, I do have some theories. Take all of this with a massive grain of salt.

I do personally believe N's song posts are about L. I can only see a few reasons she would post these so publicly.

She genuinely just likes the songs and wanted to share

They are a message to someone who she can't communicate with readily

They are a message to the fandom

N has admitted she is chronically online. She is also incredibly smart and calculated about her decisions and what she allows the public to see. Finding songs that are so clearly about love and sex and sharing them "just because she likes them" makes no sense for N. Especially right now after all the speculation from the press tour and backlash L got after the pap walk and beyond. She knows what everyone will read into them and there has already been so much chatter around her love life for her to post songs like this willy-nilly.

If she wanted to share them to communicate with someone it would have to be with someone she can't easily call or text. Yes, she is a millennial and using songs to express your feelings is a core part of this generation. However, see my previous point. She wouldn't do this publicly unless she had a very good reason. And I personally think not having an open line of communication is one of the reasons. But I don't think that person is L. I actually think it's a message to A. More on this in a moment. 

Which brings me to the last point, that the songs could be meant for the fandom. I believe this is also one of the reasons. They were meant to share with the fandom that she is in love. Who is the fandom going to automatically think/hope they are about? Of course L. And these songs are incredibly L/N coded. So if she wanted to let us know she was in love and it wasn't about L, I truly believe she would be more deliberate in how she shared this information so it wasn't misinterpreted. She's also protective over L, and she wouldn't want to send that attention to him if it wasn't meant about him. 

Which brings us to the topic of A and the friend group. It has been eerily quiet from everyone (except T & C) since their return from Italy. T & C seem to be business as usual but everyone else disappeared. It feels a lot like pre Italy when we all thought something was going down. I still think it was. My gut feeling is things were tense with L&A between GQ & Italy but somehow got settled enough for the Italy trip. Upon returning, my guess is things soured again. Not 100% sure I can pinpoint what exactly the issue is, maybe it have to do with DM, but I don't think it really matters. The silence is deafening amidst all the very loud break up rumors and N's social presence this last week. 

Okay, so here is my delulu gut feeling for what is going on. Again, HUGE grain of salt here. I 100% recognize I could be reading everything wrong. 

The Italy trip and pictures being published was a bit of a breaking point for N. Not in a "sad girl moping over not being with L" kind of way. But in a "Fuck this, I'm not waiting. I'm going after my man" kind of way. I think something snapped and she decided she decided she was going all in to let him know she wanted to be with him and also let A (and L's other friends) know that she isn't holding back. Cue the shade of the CW birthday post, the scrabble board, possibly the shirt photo (though I'm unsure my thoughts on that at the moment), and most importantly the songs. 

The first song was such a deliberate choice. A song about a conversation on the telephone from someone you haven't heard from in a while is definitely going to trigger fans to speculate about L. And even if that wasn't her intention, we know she saw it is what everyone's reaction was. But she chose to leave the song up for the full 24 hours. Then 48 hours later, she decided to double down and post another song that has all kinds of messages about knowing someone very well and there not being any pretense. Almost as if she was confirming our suspicions, because what could be more L coded than that? 

The silence from A after all of this was shocking and very telling. N was poking the bear, and the bear was not responding. Even if N did not intend all this about L, the fandom was going crazy, and to remain silent for so long during these situations is not her norm. 

Which brings us to current events and rumors about Cyprus. Is/was L there with A? I honestly don't know and I go back and forth on it. On one hand, the rumors are based on two tweets from accounts that went private. One account is speculated to be from a Balkin country. But I do think A is either there right now or was there recently so it's very possible he was too. In truth, I honestly don't think it matters if he was because, again in my delulu gut feeling, sometime recently N has decided to make it very clear to L that she is in love with him. She decided to stop waiting for him to be passive in his relationship with A and just go for it. And I believe she's letting us and A know that this is happening. I don't think she would so confidently do that if it wasn't moving in the direction she hoped. 

I honestly wonder if, and lean towards the idea, A is in Cyprus without L because things are ending and she's getting some family support and maybe doesn't really have a place to live right now. I know some people also speculate she is there for a job and this could be needed if things are ending, but I haven't seen clear evidence of that yet. However, her post yesterday is showing me that she isn't going to go quietly and she is going to continue playing games and try to rile people up. I think we might be in for a rough few weeks if any of this delulu is correct. 

So that's my 2 cents for what it's worth. I will say, I have also had a roller coaster of emotions this week as many of you have. I go back and forth on a lot of things. But I keep bringing myself back to the last few stops on tour and how obviously in love with each other they were. The way things went in Galway with N's family and the "I will wait for you" song following that stop. And I can't get past the certainty that N is very intentional with what she shares and knowing how fans will interpret it. 

Cheers WH patrons as we approach rough waters ahead. 

💜🥃

[slamminslamminmcgill]

random thoughts... saul fingering you while hes on call with someone ... placing his hand tightly over your mouth to shut you up ... dhdjhejshrntg..f..g.. getting bent over that damn desk and him taking his tie off to choke you with it ...

>:333

combining w/ these

anatomical terms:

"We're sorry we missed you! Saul Goodman and Associates is out to lunch. Leave your name and phone number at the tone, and we will return your call before the end of the business day. Thank you!"

If anyone were to contact the office between 1-2PM, Monday-Friday, that's the message they would be greeted with. Guaranteed. That was when Saul took his lunch break. During that time, he'd eat out and get whatever he was craving: burgers, Mexican, Thai, you. That last one was his favorite.

You were laying down flat against his desk, legs dangling over the edge, with Saul nestled between them as he ate you out. Your hand grasped at strands of his thinning hair and guided his movements. He appreciated the help, but he didn't need it. He knew what he was doing, and what he was doing was a great job.

Hs firm hands and thin lips brought you up to the precipice of an orgasm. You begged for release in the soundproof office. "Saul... Saul, please... so... so close... God, fuck, please... Please!"

Surprisingly, the next thing you heard was not your own voice shrieking in ecstasy, but that of a telephone screeching for attention. You both froze in place, your climax shot down and reduced to rubble.

Saul pulled off of you and groaned, his mouth quite literally dripping wet. "Son of a bitch..." He stood up, brushed himself off, and leaned over you to hit the intercom button. "Francesca! What time is it?"

A flat, no-nonsense voice came through the other side. "2:04" was all it had to say.

"Oops! Sorry, lost track of time there. Thanks HT!"

"Don't call me tha-"

Click.

Saul silenced her dissent by releasing the button. He sat back in his chair and grabbed the ringing phone, one of many piled up in his drawer. Holding the cell in one hand, he beckoned you over and slapped his thigh with the other. A silent cue for you to take your seat.

You slid off the desk and propped yourself on his lap. He flipped the phone open and finagled it between his shoulder and his ear to keep both of his hands free. "Thank you for calling Saul Goodman! What can I do for ya?" He answered with perfect poise and nonchalance as he wrapped his arms around you and groped your chest.

The voice on the other end was frantic, low, and gravelly. You didn't hear specific words, just tone. Saul rolled his eyes as it spoke, lazily dragging one of his hands lower and lower, until it rested between your legs. "I see... That sounds very troubling." He answered with mock sympathy as he pressed his fingers inside you again.

You threw your head back and moaned, probably for a fraction of a second before Saul slapped his hand over your mouth. "Quiet. You just sit back, relax, and let me handle this, okay? I don't need your input."

The party on the other line must have heard something, because Saul's response was more anxious. "Oh! Nothing, nothing, don't worry. Now, let me check my schedule and I'll see where I can fit you in." He twisted and turned his fingers inside you, stretching you out, probably making sure you could fit him in. "Hm... looks like it's gonna be a tight squeeze..." He emphasized those words by pushing up into your g-spot and making your legs tremble, "...buuut I can get you in tomorrow at 4. Would that work for you, Walt?"

His voice stopped for a moment to let "Walt" speak; his fingers didn't do the same. Regardless of who "Walt" was and what he needed, it wasn't as important as this. At least, to you two it wasn't. "Walt" was shouting into the phone like he might burst a blood vessel.

Saul replied incredulously at the mysterious figure's behavior. "What?! Absolutely not! I have a waiting room packed full of clients who need to see me just as much as you do! I'm not your little callboy!" He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. "You on the other hand..."

He turned his attention back to the petulant voice shouting in his ear. "Y'know what? I'm done talking about this. Mr. White, I'll see you at 4PM tomorrow and not a moment sooner." He took his hand off your mouth to snap the flip phone shut.

"Sorry about that, sweetheart, now..." He pumped his fingers even faster, priming you for another release. "Let's get back to the task at hand."

[billthedrake]

TELEPHONE POLE

If it hadn't been for the lousy weather on the long weekend, Frank Grisholm may never have taken the chance. But he'd spent two days straight in his apartment, edging for hours with a vial of poppers, a tub of Albolene, and a collection of his favorite dildos, some quite impressive in size. The former D1 football player had a life change at 30, but for as long as it took for him to come out, it had taken less than a year for the muscled 6'5" hunk to realize he craved to have his hole worked over.

Just like grocery shopping when you're hungry, you should never log onto the apps when you've been marathon masturbating. But Frank couldn't help himself. Something about the dildos felt second-best that day. He scrolled through some familiar profiles, holding his phone in his right hand while his left slowly sawed a black-rubber Big Boy in and out of his ass.

He saw a couple of tops he'd hooked up with. Not fuck buddies, but maybe he could reach out for a repeat. Only his attention was caught by a new profile. Or at least new to Frank. The picture was PG rated. Well, R rated, maybe. A picture of a guys' shorts with a huge ridge filling out the package. The profile listed the vital stats. 20 years old, 5'9, 155#, top.

But the dick pick is what got Frank excited, and maybe a little scared. He'd never seen a dick as fat as this. Sometimes guys used the term "beer can" for cocks that probably weren't quite as big and round as an actual beer can. Unless images deceived, this one was fatter than one. It was a bludgeon of a cock that looked like a butt plug, slightly torpedo shaped with two heavy balls clinging to the stalk and a tuft of dark brown pubes behind it.

Then there was the rest of the writing:

THE REAL DEAL. This isn't photoshopped, fellas. It's a tree trunk cock ready to plow some experienced muscle ass.

TURN ONS: Masculine men, linebacker builds, meaty asses. Older guys cool. Cunt training. Seeing that gape.

TURN OFFS: Guys who pussy out. Condoms. Drugged out dudes (poppers and 420 ok)

FRONT OF THE LINE: NO FOREPLAY fucks. Military men.

I need serious takers only.

Frank had enjoyed some intense dildo play, for sure. Even back in his 20s, he had a secret stash of them, and he'd use them on himself whenever his fiancee was out. It was a lie he kept up, until his 30th birthday. He splurged and rented an escort on a business trip to Atlanta. He had to scratch that itch, to get it out of his system.

Only it was the best sex of his life. That big cocked escort had fucked the ex-jock to two toe-curling orgasms in quick succession. He didn't even charge Frank for going over the time.

The next week, Frank called off his engagement and started making plans to get a job in a city, a real city.

"Hey," he now typed. He was actually intimidated to reach out to Mr. Tree Trunk.

But he got a quick, flirty reply. "Hi man. You're fucking hot."

"Thanks," Frank said. Maybe it was the kid's age, or just that sheer cock size, but he didn't expect this easy rapport with the messaging. Frank revealed that he'd been edging all afternoon. Jake said he was taking a study break because he was really horny.

"Feel like coming over man? I'd love to pound your ass." The direct approach might not always work, but in Frank's worked up state, it was just his speed.

"Sounds hot," he wrote. "But I won't lie, that monster scares me."

"You a noob?" came the reply.

Frank had a sudden fear he'd killed the vibe and spoiled his chance to get laid. But his asshole would thank him, he decided. "Not to bottoming," the man replied. "I have some big toys, too."

"Hot," the college dude wrote. "I like breaking in new dudes. I won't hurt ya. Promise."

"That's tempting," Frank replied. "I'm so frickin horny."

"Me too man. Let's do this. My roommate is gone for the weekend." Jake sent his dorm name at one of the universities not far from where Frank lived. "I need to get back to my studying soon, but I wanna get my rocks off, bad."

It felt tawdry as hell, but the 32-year-old got cleaned up and dressed and made his way over to Jake's campus. Frank texted him when he was close, and Jake was down in the lobby waiting for him. The tall, almost beefy man blushed when he thought how transparent this was, being some college kid's booty call. But what the fuck, Jake was an adult, Frank was an adult, and it's not like anyone there knew the man.

"You're even hotter in person," Jake growled as they made our way to his room. He was wearing just some shorts and T-shirt and flip flops, with a college ball cap. He had a soccer player look about him, not a competitive one, maybe, but that tone, lean-muscled look accentuated by his ruddy cheeks and cute face. His body was buff for a college kid's, but his face looked younger.

Jake may have been in a rush, but Frank had to give him credit, he took his time. They sat on his twin dorm bed and made out, then lay back. The ex-jock had never made it with a dude this much younger than him, but the fact Jake had a massive cock gave that age differential a certain thrill. And when the college dude started tugging at Frank's sweatshirt, that put the man in a real bottomy mood.

"Fuck," Jake growled as he lifted Frank's arm and started feasting on the furry pit. The swipe of his tongue sent goosebumps down the bigger, more muscular body. Jake kissed along the chest, then munched at the other pit.

When they finally kissed again, both could feel the temperature rising. Frank reached down and massaged that fat boner in Jake's shorts.

"Wanna see it?" he asked. Boasting.

Frank nodded. "Please."

"Big muscle guy is a frickin size queen, aren't ya?" Jake wasn't a dom, not exactly. He mostly loved the physicality of sex. But he also knew he had 7 incredibly fat inches calling the shorts.

He undid his shorts and there in the flesh, Frank learned that in fact no Photoshop was involved. He was staring at the most colossal prick he'd ever seen or could imagine.

Like a hungry power bottom the big man scrambled to get down and lick it. He actually tried to work the head between his lips, but that cock was too fat.

Jake gently massaged my short hair and laughed. "Don't worry, dude, I've only met one guy who can suck me."

Frank Grisholm felt sad he wasn't that guy. And more than a little ashamed for his lust for that tool. The college kid was cute as fuck but it was the monster meat between his legs that had me acting like a slut. "OK if I lick some more?"

"Be my guest," Jake said, hands on his hips as the man laved him. The thing about dicks that big is they're generally not as hard as smaller cocks. Too much blood flow needed for all that vascular tissue. But as Frank licked him, Jake grew harder and definitely sported a fuck hardon now.

"On your back, man," he hissed. "I wanna eat your hot hole."

The big man did as instructed and when he pulled those meaty legs back, Jake actually whistled before getting down into place. He stared at Frank's pucker and gently ran his finger around it. "So nice... you have a little looseness." He looked up at the guy, a horny expresion on his face. "You been playing with your toys all day, huh?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. But none of them are as thick as you, kid."

That made Jake smile. "Should be a tight fuck, then," he growled and dove in to lick the hole.

Frank loved every part of this. On his back in some goddamn college drom room getting a very eager and skilled rim job. He had to imagine Jake's endowment meant he had a good deal of experience, if he wanted it. Now he softly urged the college stud in a deep gravely voice, coaxing to lick him deep.

The rimming didn't last TOO long. Maybe five minutes. But Frank's hole felt alive and ready. There had been too much stimulation and edging and now he wanted it.

Jake wasn't giving him a chance to back out. At least not unless and until the big guy said no. He slathered on some milky viscous lube, and Frank realized he'd seen it in some toy play videos. The college kid was actually nervous as he pushed that first fat inch past Frank's ring.

The ex-footballer wanted this, bad. But the entry stung and he did his best to hold back a wince.

Jake looked on concerned but also majorly turned on. "Yeah, man, first time's a bitch," he said. "But you got it." He reached down and ran his hands along Frank's beefy furry front. "I'm in ya now, buddy. So just relax and let me in."

Frank took a couple of deep breaths until he decided the heavy breathing was making him tense up.

"Want some poppers?" Jake asked.

"Um, yeah," Frank said. Sometimes they gave him a headache afterwards, but that would be worth it if it allowed him to take this massive cock.

Jake walked as the big guy huffed the fumes. "You're just my fucking type, man," He said excitedly as he fisted that tree trunk meat and added some extra viscous lube.

Frank screwed the cap back on the vial and lay it down on the mattress. He nodded up at Jake.

The poppers rush coincided with the college kid's second entry. That humongous prick was boring right into that slick ass and Frank's body was letting it.

"Fuck!" the big man growled. "You're huge."

"You like huge," Jake said in his turned on voice. He pressed on, feeling a crazy snugness but not an outright clenching of the man's guts, like he usually did with noobies. Soon he felt his balls press against that muscle ass. "I was right, man. You're tight as fuck."

Frank had lost his hardon earlier but the idea he had that giant dong buried all the way up him turned him on and made his cock bone up. He reached down and scooped up some extra lube and applied it to his cock.

Jake was now sawing in and out. Not a lot. But priming the pump. "Not gonna last long today, I'm afraid," he grunted. "Too fucking tight."

"That's OK," Frank said.

Jake nodded down to the poppers. "Take another hit," he urged. "You'll need it."

The ex-jock did just that. Then enjoyed the wave of warmth in his body. Jake was fucking now. Heavy full strokes. It wasn't rough or hard or fast, but with a tree trunk dick, it didn't have to be. Hands down, it was the most intense fucking Frank Grisholm had ever experienced. He tugged at his regular-sized boner and felt jolts of pleasure. His prostate was downright flattened by that torpedo-tapered dong, which sawed over it over and over.

"Shit!" Jake hissed. As he came, that was the only time he lost control, his hips jerking harder and fast as that bazooka blasted deep inside Frank. He'd actually had bottoms pass out with that part, but Jake couldn't help himself. When he was mid-nut, nature took over.

Fortunately, that extra intensity pushed Frank to the hardest cum of his life. Pleasurable to the point of hurting as ropes of seed got pushed out.

Before the poppers wore off, Jake was pulling back, very slowly. With size comes responsibility, and Jake was always careful in the dismount, at least until he knew a bottom was well trained for some rougher stuff.

His eyes were fixated on Frank's well-fucked hole. "Damn, that's one hell of a gape!" he enthused. "Fucking beautiful."

Frank felt exposed and slutty but the fact this kid liked his wide-open cummy hole made him less self-conscious.

"I wish I had more time to play with that," Jake said softly, actually wistfully as his fingers traced the gaping rim. "Is my finger OK, man?" he asked.

Frank winced a little. "I'm a little tender. But go ahead."

Jake was like a kid in the candy store as he examined his handiwork. The man's pucker was a little red and a lot stretched, though it was closing back up before his eyes. Frank leaned back and watched that giant college dong shrink to a soft elephant trunk.

Jake looked at Frank with a leer. "You think you'd ever be up for cunt training, man? You have an amazing pussy."

Two years ago, Frank would have objected to those terms. Now, he was OK with them. "What do you mean, cunt training?"

Jake smirked. "I've given some guys real big pussy lips, just by fucking regularly." He added, "though some of the dudes have also used toys. Either way, it's hot as fuck."

"I dunno," Frank hissed. He'd loved everything about taking on the challenge of Jake's cock, but he didn't want to be a freak or anything.

"Just think about it, man," he urged. He pulled up his finger and licked off the fuck juice from it. "You'd have a lot of fun doing it."

Jake patted his meaty thigh. "Listen, I really do need to study for my midterm. But dude, that was incredible... I'm glad you hit me up."

"Me too," Frank said sheepishly, gathering his energy to get dressed again. The popper headache was coming on, but he'd been right: this was all worth it.

"Seriously man," Jake said as he slipped his shorts back on over that soft heavy, flopping meat. "Let me know if you want a repeat. I'm not looking to date or anything, but it would be hot to have a longer session."

"We'll see," Frank answered, but with an encouraging smile. Jake stepped up for one last kiss, then Frank was off.

The whole way home, the ex-jock's hole felt tender and used, but that very feeling made him smile.

[allastoredeer]

Archangel anon again! Here for those extended Gabriel headcanons. Okay! Gabriel's the messenger of heaven, so i imagine that it's his's responsibility to convey messages between heaven and hell. That makes Gabe the only sibling Lucifer has been allowed to have simi-consistent contact with since his fall. They're not allowed to have long, deep conversations, but they do try to catch up a tiny bit. I see Gabe as a trickster with a heart of gold. Seemingly a charismatic goofball who takes very little seriously. A fast-talking, smooth-talking, ALWAYS talking jokester who can make you want to tear your hair out one second, then charm the pants off you the next. He's the best liar of the family, incredibly good at playing dumb despite actually being quite cunning, strategic, and above all else, PETTY. He is very protective of his siblings, especially Lucifer nowadays (side-effect of being the only sibling allowed to talk to him) and can hold a grudge like no ones business.

But, the main reason I wanted to give special attention to Gabe is because of his patronage. As I was doing research on Gabriel I made a delightful discovery ripe with potential. Remember how I said Gabriel is the patron of communication services? Well another way to phrase it would be he holds patronage over all forms of transmitting information from point A to point B. This includes telecommunications that transmit information through electrical means. Such as telegraph, telephone, internet, and broadcasting. ALL forms of broadcasting. Including both television AND RADIO.😃😃😃

Do you see? Do you see the abundance of potential that I see?? Gabriel is the Patron Archangel of both TV AND RADIO. He holds dominion over

TV AND RADIO

I cannot begin to describe the joy I felt when I made that discovery! Instantly got the brain buzzing.

Alastor and Gabriel have the capacity for either becoming instant best friends or instant enemies and I can't decide which one I like more... Oh who am I kidding, it's enemies. Imagine Gabriel is visiting Lucifer and Charlie and he inevitably buts heads with Alastor. Either Alastor says something snide about Gabe himself, or maybe Lucifer. Meanwhile, Gabe has gone uncharacteristically quiet and just stares at Al for a long moment. Then, an unreadable smile slowly forms on his face and he laughs good-naturedly, slapping Alastor on the back a BIT too hard but otherwise just says "You got me there, buddy" before sauntering away.

But the next morning, Alastor tries to enter his radio tower to do his morning show, only to find the door is locked tight and there's some kind of powerful ward keeping him from shadow-porting in. Then, every radio in hell suddenly comes alive as none other than Gabriel's loud, bombastic voice comes pouring enthusiastically from the speakers.

Gabriel has redefined the term "pirate radio" by not only hijacking Alastor's radio tower, but also literally every radio in hell. And worse, he's turned Al's show into one of those "zany" morning-zoo radio shows. The kind of shows thar are more annoying than funny that always play on the radio on your way to work or school? I imagine Alastor considers those shows a perversion of his medium. And as the cherry on top, Gabe refuses to relinquish control back to Alastor calls in (the number is 1 777 3625, that's 1 777 DMBK🤭) and apologizes ON AIR for all of hell to hear.🤣🤣🤣

You know what, I'm kind of with Alastor on this one.

If someone messed with my passion like that, I would never apologize. I would double down. I'd never stop pushing those buttons, consequences be damned. You want me to say sorry? Nah, bitch, how about you stop being a wuss?

LOL I think Alastor would take a megaphone, plop himself on a rooftop (or just roam the streets) and do his broadcast like that. He'd find himself a soapbox to stand on. You know, the old fashioned way. I mean, depending on if Alastor can control radiowaves, he might be able to hijack one of the speakers he set up all over Hell. He'd pick a new one every day, and diss on ol' Gabe. He'd go into how Heaven keeps repressing the sinners of Hell, first it was the Extermination, and now Heaven's silencing their voices. When will the tyranny end? How long will they put up with this??

LOL Idk now that I'm thinking about it, the idea of Alastor starting a revolution against Heaven purely out of spite is incredibly funny and I love it.

(Also that is really interesting about Gabriel patron of communication 👀 that has so much potential)

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

sorry for the delay!! we are so back masterlist is here <3

13. Clay Pigeons

‘Stels,

Went on leave in London. I copied out the number of my hotel on the other side of this note. Call if you want to talk.

- John’

Stella had read and reread the note at least a hundred times since finding it beneath an empty mug at the place she sat at breakfast everyday. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling.

After storming out on him she’d spent all night tossing and turning, trying to come up with what she would say when she inevitably saw him the next day. Today. She’d even come up with something she was somewhat satisfied with. She knew she was a difficult person to deal with and resented that she showed some of her most complicated parts to John, so she’d put extra effort into forcing herself to be vulnerable when she explained herself.

But he was gone. Come morning, he had organised leave, packed up his belongings, and fled to London.

It made sense, Stella supposed, that he wasn’t going to stick around, holding his breath waiting for an apology he had no reason to expect was coming. But his absence stung her all the same. She didn’t care that he’d left a number for her to contact him on, she cared that he wasn’t here, that he’d just gone.

Screwing the letter up in one hand, Stella buried it in her pocket and thanked the waiter who delivered her breakfast. Then she went about her business as usual, trying her best to contribute to Alice and Jessop’s conversation even when she felt like storming out.

She flew her chits and mulled over everything she might say to John on the phone. She wouldn’t call him, she knew, but it was almost thrilling to imagine a version of herself who might. If she were braver or bolder or more forgivable she supposed she would. At this point, she’d made herself so utterly undesirable she was sure John had left the number solely out of courtesy and didn’t much want anything more to do with her.

Even still, that night she found herself gnawing on her bottom lip, sitting on her bed with her teddy bear in her lap as she toyed with the idea of calling.

He would be out, she reasoned with herself. He wouldn’t be sitting around in his hotel room, not on his first visit to London.

But then again, if she called and left a message at least he’d know she actually had called. She wouldn’t have to speak to him but he’d know she’d tried.

But he probably didn’t even want to hear from her. It was courtesy, she reminded herself. He didn’t mean it.

But if he did pick up, she wouldn’t have to have that difficult conversation she’d spent all night thinking up in person, and how much easier would it be to do it over the phone? He wouldn’t get to see her blush or tear up or any number of embarrassing things she might do when she had to apologise. All she would have to do was keep her voice steady.

So, pyjamas on, Stella shoved her feet into her boots and made her way to the ATA hut through the dark, to the only telephone she could use and guarantee no one would overhear her. Usually she’d go to the officers’ club, but at this time of night it would be packed and she didn’t much fancy dodging eavesdroppers while standing in the midst of everyone in her pyjamas.

Her heart was in her throat as she listened to the phone ring and she hadn’t even been put through to the operator yet. Her left foot was tapping vigorously against the ground, her right hand twisting and untwisting the telephone cord. She kept glancing over her shoulder, seeking out silhouettes in the dark corners of the room where the lamplight didn’t reach, kept tugging at the hem of her nightdress as though unwanted eyes were on her.

She felt she could have been sick.

When the operator put her through to John’s hotel the nausea only got worse. Stella considered hanging up a good many times but reasoned with herself that she’d traipsed all the way across base to get here so she was going to make it worth her while.

And then the hotel receptionist came on the phone and put her through to John’s room.

And then, after a hefty bout of ringing, the receptionist came back on the phone again.

“He doesn’t seem to be in, miss,” the receptionist said, the apology heavy in her voice. It was clear that, in spite of how Stella had introduced herself simply as a friend, the receptionist had inferred some sort of romantic intimacy in her relationship to John, had inferred that she was calling him in the middle of the night because she was suspicious of what he was doing in London.

Stella hated that implication. And she hated what the fact that he really wasn’t in his hotel room at eleven o’clock at night actually did imply.

“Oh,” Stella said, sounding forlorn even though she hadn’t honestly expected John to be in. “Can I - um -” She stopped to clear her throat of its awkward hoarseness. “Can I leave a message? Maybe?”

“Of course, miss,” the receptionist hurried to assure her warmly.

“Thank you,” Stella said, then hesitated. She was left breathing down the phone as she warred with herself about what to say. She couldn’t decide whether or not to deliver her prepared spiel to this random, unfortunate receptionist over the phone, but then the receptionist prompted her to speak and she could ruminate on it no more. Tentatively, she began, “Can you please tell him that Stella Finley called for him. That’s me. Obviously. Um - Sorry -” She shook her head at herself. “Can you just tell him that I said I’m sorry for running away from him. And that he was right. About my brothers. And - and just that I’m really sorry for being so difficult all the time and I don’t deserve to have him as a friend. Okay, that’s everything.”

The other end of the line was quiet. Stella worried, briefly, that the receptionist had hung up on her. But then she said, “I’ve got it all written down, miss. I’ll make sure to pass the message on.” There was something sad in her voice.

Stella let her eyes fall resignedly shut and breathed, “Thank you,” in reply.

She had no idea how long John was supposed to be on leave and, at first, she tried to convince herself not to care. She went to breakfast and flew her chits and wrote up her flight reports and went to dinner and went to the officers’ club and read her books and went about her business the way she always did. But she couldn’t ignore how big of a hole there was in her life; not having John there to talk to whenever she so desired left a bigger gap than she would have realised had he not so suddenly removed himself from it. A chasm, really.

He didn’t call her back the entirety of the following day.

Stella went to see Buck before he went out on his next mission.

“Finley,” he greeted her, glancing up in surprise when DeMarco, beside him, nudged him to get his attention.

“Hi,” Stella greeted in return, squinting into the morning sunshine. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced and I promise I won’t stay long, I just - do you know how long John’s going to be on leave? It’s not really any of my business and I suppose if he’d wanted me to know he would’ve told me but he left me a note and he told me to call him and I did but he didn’t pick up and now he hasn’t tried to call back - or, at least, no one’s told me that he has - so I was just wondering how long -”

“Finley,” Buck interrupted her, chuckling softly to himself under his breath. “He’ll call you back. I’m sure he’s just busy.”

“He probably doesn’t even want to talk to me,” Stella disagreed. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, shifting on her feet. “Did he tell you what I did?”

Buck’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’d you do?”

“I ran away from him.”

“Why?”

“Because he was asking me personal questions.” Stella shook her head as though to clear it, lowered her hand from where it had been resting against her forehead and then raised it immediately right back up again when she found the sun just as strong as before. “Anyway -” Buck made to interrupt her but she kept on talking over him like she didn’t notice, “- do you know when he’s coming back? I just feel like I want to be prepared before I say something stupid.”

A short silence fell. There were only the sounds of airmen preparing for a mission, mechanics running around and ensuring each plane was ready. Behind Stella, Ken Lemmons was still fiddling around with the plane Buck was about to fly.

Buck was wearing a tiny, wry smile, silent as he simply stared at Stella in the wake of her babbling.

Stella raised her eyebrows at him, shuffling once more on her feet and resisting the urge to start tugging on her sleeves. She wasn’t sure why she felt so self-conscious - there was nothing in what she’d said that should be making him look at her like this.

“Tuesday,” he confessed at last, still with that same inexplicable smile. “He’s coming back Tuesday night.”

“Tuesday?” Stella asked. “That’s a long time to be on leave.” How long did one man possibly need to be in London by himself?

Buck shrugged. “He needed a break and he’s not needed around here until then.”

“He’s always needed around here,” Stella objected without thinking. When she heard her own words, however, she flushed so suddenly her cheeks were on fire. She clamped her mouth shut. “I mean, in the ops room,” she added hastily once she’d regained some semblance of composure.

Again, Buck chuckled under his breath. “Right,” he agreed. “But he needed a break, Fin. You ever taken one of those?”

“A break?” Now it was Stella’s turn to laugh. “No, never. As long as there are planes to ferry I’m staying here. I’d get antsy if I couldn’t fly - you saw how I was when I was in the infirmary.” She shook her head and batted the thought away. “Anyway, I’ll go now. Sorry for badgering you.”

Buck brushed her aside. “Ain’t no problem at all, Fin, you’re not badgering anyone.”

Stella smiled. Now she really was fiddling with her hands. She wasn’t sure how to tell him that she was grateful to have him as a friend - were they friends? - without coming on too strong, so all she could do was stare at him and smile.

“Have a good flight,” she offered after a beat, when she became conscious she had probably outstayed her welcome. “Come home safe and all that, okay? I’ll be lonely with you and John both gone.”

Buck rolled his eyes jovially and clapped her affectionately on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Fin. Take care of yourself when you’re out flying today, alright?”

“Alright,” Stella agreed. “You too, Buck.”

“Alright,” he answered her.

Stella gave him one final smile and a half-hearted, poorly executed salute before turning on her heel and heading back to the ATA hut from whence she’d come.

Tuesday. That was so far from now. She had no idea what she was supposed to spend her time doing until then. Waiting around for a return phone call, probably. How had he still not called? Had the receptionist even passed on the message? But she’d sounded so sincere over the phone. Surely he was just ignoring her. Or maybe he wasn’t even at the hotel - maybe he’d met a lovely, pretty, normal woman and was staying with her. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Stella was twiddling her thumbs, sitting around on the edge of the airfield, when the B-17s returned from their mission. She wasn’t sure why - John wasn’t with them - but she supposed it might be nice to keep Buck company now that Curt was gone and John was away in London. He was probably even lonelier than she was with his best friend on leave.

Sixteen planes returned of the twenty-four which had been sent out. Three of those had experienced mechanical failures and come back early. Thirteen had completed a successful mission.

Eight planes had gone down somewhere over Germany.

Buck’s plane was among them.

“Fuck,” Stella wept as she sat in one of the returned B-17s that night. “Fuck!” She had no idea why she was crying except that so many people she knew were gone. Curt and Buck among her new friends, basically all of the boys she’d gone to school with, four of her brothers. Four of her brothers. She was supposed to have eight and she had four.

“Fuck!”

Stella slammed her hands into the yoke until they stung and burned, until they hurt too much to bang anymore. Then she gripped it tightly and squeezed until her hands went numb, digging her nails in until they broke and bled.

She tipped her head back until it rested against the seat behind her, shut her eyes tight and let the tears flow freely.

So many men. So many boys. How many more? John was sure to end up going too. He always talked about how good of a pilot Buck was, how he was the best. If even the best could go down then what hope did the rest of them have?

The Battle of Britain was finished and yet airmen were still being shot out of the sky like clay pigeons. The Germans were hunting all of them for sport. An entire generation of young men would be wiped out before the war was out and maybe then Stella would finally get her wish of being sent out into combat. Who else would there be to fight this pitiful, godforsaken war?

Stella’s hands were shaking when she released the yoke and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Her shoulders were heaving with every sob, with every gasping, wheezing breath she drew in. How many more times was she going to have to sit in the dark and cry for a man her age or only just above, taken too soon by some nameless Luftwaffe pilot in the name of patriotism and glory?

It was on weak, shaking legs that she started the trek back to her hut, still weeping, hugging her arms tight around herself less to ward off the chill of the night and more to ward off her demons. Her feet were dragging behind her, her shoulders slumped forward, her head shaking from side to side like she was trying to reprimand the world for doing this to her over and over again.

“Stels,” John said, pushing up off the wall to her hut when she first came into view.

She didn’t hear him, just kept sniffling and sobbing, her bottom lip clasped between her teeth and her eyes full with so many tears it was like she had an endless lake inside of her.

“Stels,” he said again, louder, when she got closer. “Stella.”

She looked up, startled, and hiccuped when her next sob never came.

Through the darkness he was formidable, big and looming, somehow casting a shadow behind him even in the absence of light.

He didn’t try to approach her, just stared back at her from where he was.

There was a long moment of silence. The two of them stared at each other.

Stella’s bottom lip wobbled and she hiccuped once more. When she couldn’t help but sniffle she hastily wiped at her nose with her sleeve and accused, “You never called me back.”

“I only got your message after -” He faltered.

“After you found out about Buck?” Stella deduced.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even nod, but Stella knew she was correct by the way his gaze hardened.

“Did you meet a woman?” she asked. She got a sick sense of satisfaction from the way he averted his eyes.

So she’d been right. He’d been staying at someone else’s place.

“Was she pretty?”

“Stels -” Again, he faltered.

Stella scoffed a low laugh. “John, it’s fine. I’m not your girlfriend. You can fuck whoever you want.”

“Stels.” No faltering, just that one word, a full sentence. All the disapproval of a father in the hardness of the consonants.

“I’ve never had sex,” she said, sniffling, wiping at her nose. “Is it any good?”

She revelled in the way she’d clearly caught him off guard. John, never unnerved by her, always expecting the unexpected, had not expected that.

“I’m not drunk,” she said, just to fill the empty air. She didn’t know if he was imagining she was but she wanted him to know she wasn’t just in case. Wanted him to know she was behaving like this out of emptiness, not inebriation. “I only had a few beers and a couple of shots. Tipsy, maybe. But not drunk.” She took an ambling step closer to him. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Are you sad?”

Silence.

“I’m so sad,” she said, and laughed at herself. It was a sad laugh, the twinkle of wind chimes in an old, abandoned house, and she hiccuped right after, just so she didn’t forget she’d just been weeping. “All the time. ‘Cause - ‘cause -” The dam broke. The sobs she’d been withholding came spilling right back out of her. She was powerless to stop them, a doorstop trying to keep out a pack of angry wolves.

Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Stella curled in on herself and started past John, pushed past him when he stepped in front of the door and then headed briskly into her hut. She didn’t feel like talking to him anymore. Didn’t feel like crying in front of him anymore.

She collapsed on her bed, boots and all, and curled up in a ball, with Ralph, her childhood teddy bear, clutched to her chest. She muffled her crying into the top of his head, tried fruitlessly to breathe in the smell of home which had long since faded away.

John sat on the bed beside hers. Alice’s bed. She didn’t turn to look but she could sense his presence. If she wasn’t crying and if she listened hard enough she thought she’d probably be able to hear him breathe.

He didn’t say anything while she cried. He didn’t even try to touch her. Maybe he feared she’d try to flee again if he did. She was so flighty, so delicate, unpredictable and liable to combust at any given moment.

She wouldn’t have fled. If he’d tried to touch her. She might have cried harder but she also might have cried softer. Had anyone ever tried to comfort her when she cried? No one ever seemed to know what to do with her.

“I’m sorry about Buck,” she managed to choke out when her tears started to slow. “I - I went to see him earlier and - and -”

“Shh,” John said simply. Finally, tentatively, he laid a hand on the centre of her back.

He had such big hands. Just one hand was on her and yet she was sure she could feel its warmth in her entire body.

She curled into it, pushed her spine back against it.

He started to rub it slowly up and down.

“My brothers -”

“I know, Stels.”

“Four of them.”

He drew in a deep breath. “‘M sorry.”

“Everyone keeps -”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

John didn’t say anything. What was there for him to say? He didn’t know what to do either.

[studio52sblog]

Enhance customer experience with Studio52's telephone hold message services in Kuwait. Engage callers with custom on-hold message services tailored to your brand.

[studioaudio]

7 Ways to Design On-Hold Messages That Your Callers Will Love

When customers call your business, they expect to be answered quickly and efficiently. But what happens when they are put on hold? 

You can make the wait time productive by designing on-hold messages that your customers will love. 

Here’s how: 

1. Start with an engaging introduction 

When it comes to designing on-hold messages that your callers love, the introduction is the key factor in making it engaging enough to keep your callers engaged and interested. 

An effective introduction should accurately reflect the topic of the message and be compelling enough to draw the attention of your callers. 

Here are a few ways to create an engaging introduction for your on-hold messages. 

Establish the Tone: The introduction should quickly establish the tone of the message in the shortest amount of time. Your callers should be able to understand the purpose and intent of the message from the very start. 

Capture Attention: It is important that your introduction captures the attention of your callers as quickly as possible. Use creative language and lively dialogue to help engage your callers from the beginning. 

Include Audio Clips: Incorporating audio clips into the introduction of your message can help to draw in your callers and keep them engaged. 

Ask a Question: Asking a question in your introduction can be a great way to get your callers thinking and help them to engage with the content of the message. 

Make It Personal: Make sure to include personal touches in your introduction to make it more appealing to your callers. It can be done by addressing them by name or by incorporating their unique interests. 

With a well-crafted introduction, your on-hold messages will be sure to make an impact on your callers.

2. Keep the message concise

Creating an effective on-hold message for your business is essential for ensuring an enjoyable customer experience. A key aspect of making sure your message delivers the desired impact is to keep it concise. 

Long messages can lead to a lack of engagement and understanding from your customers, making it important to ensure that you get your point across quickly and efficiently. The best way to ensure your on-hold message is concise is to plan and structure it in advance. 

Start by mapping out the main points you want to include in the message and make sure that each point is given its own dedicated space. It will help you to identify any ideas that are superfluous, which can then be removed. It is also important to keep your language clear and direct, avoiding the use of overly complex terms or phrases. 

Your message should be easily understandable to your target audience and focus on the key points that you want to communicate. It is also important to ensure that your message can be conveyed comfortably in the time available. 

Unless you have an automated system, it is a good idea to time your message and ensure that it can fit comfortably within the expected duration of a customer’s on-hold experience. It will also ensure that the flow of your message is smooth and natural. 

By following these simple tips, you can ensure that your on-hold message is concise, informative, and engaging. With careful consideration, you can create a message that effectively communicates your message to your customers and helps to improve their overall experience.

3. Include your brand message 

When designing on-hold messages for your callers, it’s important to include your brand message and reinforce your company’s core values. Your messages should be concise, yet comprehensive, conveying why customers should engage with your business. 

Think about the core benefits that your business offers to customers and craft messages that will effectively communicate them. Consider the values of your organization and the reasons why customers should choose your business over the competition. 

It’s also essential to ensure that your message is easy to understand and won’t overwhelm your callers. The goal should be to create messages that are simple yet powerful, delivering the key message that customers need to hear in a way that they can easily understand. 

For example, you might choose to emphasize the quality of service, the convenience of ordering, or the value of products. Your message should be clear and direct, while still engaging and relatable. It’s also important to include a call to action in your messages. 

Ask your customers to take an action, such as visiting your website or subscribing to your newsletter. It will help to increase engagement with your brand and generate more leads. 

Include your brand message in your on-hold messages to ensure that your callers remember your company and don’t forget to take the desired action. It will help to increase customer satisfaction and build brand loyalty.

4. Incorporate music 

Music has the ability to influence people’s emotions and can be a powerful tool in creating a positive and engaging experience for callers on hold. 

Incorporating music into on-hold message designs can help create a more soothing atmosphere for the caller, improving customer satisfaction and setting an appropriate tone for customer interactions. 

Here are some tips for designing on-hold messages that feature music in an effective way. 

Choose Appropriate Music: The music you choose should be appropriate for the context of the call. Choose music that is pleasing to the majority of customers and avoid anything that may be seen as too aggressive or loud.

Create a Pleasant Atmosphere: Using a light, the upbeat musical track can make the waiting experience more pleasant for the caller. This can also help reduce customer frustration, which can ultimately lead to better customer satisfaction. 

Keep it Brief: Music should be used sparingly in on-hold messages. Avoid long, drawn-out musical pieces that could become tedious for callers. Instead, aim to keep pieces around 30-60 seconds in length. 

Incorporating music into an on-hold message design can help create a positive and engaging experience for callers. By following these tips, you can create an on-hold message that your customers will appreciate and enjoy.

5. Provide helpful information 

Provide your callers with helpful information that is relevant to your business and the services you provide. Including interesting facts and/or trivia is another great way to design messages that your callers will love. 

Adding a bit of humor or a fun anecdote can also help to keep your callers engaged. Additionally, you can provide helpful tips and links to resources that can be used to assist customers in the future. 

Finally, it’s important to keep your messages concise. You’ll want to make sure that you include only the most important information, and that your message isn’t overly long. You’ll want customers to stay on the line long enough to get the information they need, while also ensuring that they don’t become bored or disinterested. 

6. Use a professional voiceover 

Using a professional voice-over will help you create high-quality recordings that will be engaging and resonate with your audience. 

A professional voice-over artist will be able to bring life to your message with the right tone, cadence, and conversational style. They will also be able to help you with the recording process, ensuring a seamless and professional-sounding final result. In addition, a professional voice-over artist will be able to provide you with valuable feedback and guidance. 

Overall, using a professional voice-over artist is a great way to ensure your on-hold messages are of the highest quality. With their expertise and experience, they can help you create high-quality recordings that your callers will love!

7. Record an updated message 

Modern technology provides businesses with the ability to update their on-hold messages easily and quickly. By recording an updated message, businesses can keep their customers informed and engaged with the latest news, offers, and product updates. 

For businesses looking to stay ahead of the competition, recording an updated message can be an effective way to grab their customers’ attention. By changing the message regularly, businesses can keep their message fresh and timely, ensuring their customers stay engaged. 

When recording an updated on-hold message, it is important to consider a few tips. 

Keep the message brief and to the point. Customers don’t have time to listen to a lengthy message and may lose interest if the message is too long. 

Ensure the message is clearly audible and free of static or other technical issues. If the message is not audible, customers may miss important details. 

Consider providing a “call to action” within the message. It will help engage customers and encourage them to take advantage of your offers. 

Make sure the message is appropriate and polite. Customers don’t appreciate being spoken to in an abrasive or rude tone. Instead, record a friendly and welcoming message that will make customers feel valued and comfortable. 

Conclusion 

On-hold messages can be an effective way to make customers feel engaged and informed while they wait for assistance. If you’re looking for assistance in designing your on-hold messages, Studio52 is here to help. Visit our website to learn more about our on-hold messaging services and let us help you create the perfect message that your customers will love.

[wheels-of-despair]

Worth It | Ralph Penbury x You | Masterlist

{<-Previous} [All I Want Is You] {Next->}

Summary: Planning a wedding with two overbearing mothers. What could possibly go wrong? Words: 2k

"Paris is clearly the superior choice!"

"Everyone honeymoons in Paris! They should take a steamer down The Nile!"

"They'll be robbed blind by river pirates!"

"River pirates?" she scoffs.

"French cuisine is unmatched!"

"There are more important things in life than being a glutton!"

After a several days of tense telephone calls and snippy messages sent through their children, the meeting of the mothers had finally commenced. They'd spent the entire morning fighting about the wedding venue, the guest list, the color scheme, the flowers, the food, the ceremony, and now, the honeymoon destination. For such a joyous occasion, there sure was a lot of hostility.

Ralph hadn't said a word in nearly an hour. It was a feminine affair, he understood, so his opinions weren't wanted. He wished they'd listen to his fiancée, though. You'd been silent nearly as long as he had. You sat next to each other, on a flowery white loveseat in your parents' house, the calm amid the chaos. Your mothers shouted at each other from opposite sides of the coffee table that was littered with fabric samples and travel brochures. The wedding planner had also given up, making herself appear busy with her notebook.

Ralph felt a nudge to his knee. He looks down and follows the trail to the hips, waist, bust, and finally the face of his fiancée, looking just as uninterested as he is. With a slight tilt of your head toward the door, he's suddenly more alert than he's been since his last attempt to speak. He'd given up after that, and become lost in his own head. He looked at the bickering women once more, and gave you a slight nod.

You don't even have to sneak out. You just get up and go. They old broads are so busy screaming at each other, they don't even notice their children making a hasty retreat. Ralph holds the door for you, and you silently swish past and wait for him to close it, the voices of your mothers suddenly muffled.

"Why did no one tell me that planning a wedding was so much fun?" you deadpanned.

Ralph barely has time to worry that you're having second thoughts before you circle your arms around his middle and rest your head on his shoulder. You wouldn't have done that if you were going to call it off. Right? His arms wrap around and pull you closer, and you hold him tighter. Right.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggests. You nod into his shoulder with a sigh of either exhaustion or relief. Perhaps both? You part, grab your coats, and seconds later, you're out the door and in the sunshine. You walk silently for a few minutes, hand in hand, soon realizing that you've both been drawn to the park. You look at up at him as you cross through the entrance and give him a smile that makes his heart melt. This is more like it.

You stroll slowly toward your secret spot, soaking up the sunshine and enjoying the heavenly sounds of chirping birds and trees rustling in the breeze. Neither of you speaks a word until you're on your favorite bench, not another human - or a bossy mother - in sight.

"Think they've realized we're gone yet?"

Ralph chuckles. "Probably not."

You smile at him, but it slowly fades. He reaches for your hand. "What is it, love?"

"It's just… not how I thought it would be."

"How d'you mean?"

"I didn't realize our wedding would have so little to do with us," you say gloomily. "Did you have any idea it would be like this?"

"Sort of," Ralph admits. "It's like planning parties with Victoria. In the end, I don't really get a say. I'm used to it."

Ralph frowns. How many fabulous ideas of his had Victoria shot down over the years? At some point, he'd stopped bothering. What was there to do about it? It was just the way things were.

"It shouldn't be like this," you rant. "This whole thing is making me want to pull my hair out and go jump in the river. I hate that I feel this way. It's supposed to be a happy occasion. The best day of our lives, even." You heave a sigh. "I love you. But I hate this. I'm sorry." You put your head in your hands.

"Do you want to call it off?" Ralph asks softly.

Your head shoots up. "Of course not! I want to call our mothers off!" You reach for his hand. "Ralph, you're the only thing keeping me sane right now. Please don't think I'm complaining about you. You're perfect. I'd endure anything if it meant I got to be with you."

"You shouldn't have to endure your own wedding." Ralph had been growing increasingly frustrated with the whole situation as well, but hearing his bride-to-be talk of ripping her hair out and jumping in the river was the final straw. "What kind of wedding do you want?"

"Does it matter?" you ask cynically.

"Yes," Ralph says. "It's all that matters."

You look thoughtful for a moment, and then ask, "What kind of wedding do YOU want, Ralph?"

"I want whatever y--"

"No. If you were completely in charge, if you had total control over our wedding and everything that came with it, what would it be like?"

Ralph furrows his brow. Total control? What was that?

"I… I don't know?"

"Ralph, you proposed to three women before me, and you had no ideas about the kind of wedding you wanted?" you ask with a teasing twinkle in your eye.

Ralph feels a shock ripple through his body. He did. Ralph had once dreamed of a magnificent brass band, white lace, gold trim, the finest crystal, multiple champagne fountains, ice swans, a horse-drawn carriage ride, a luxurious cruise, a long honeymoon abroad, and oodles of pictures to bring home and proudly display to guests for generations to come.

But suddenly, that didn't feel quite right.

Ralph didn't care about any of that anymore.

"It doesn't matter," he says, surprising both of you.

"It doesn't matter?"

"As long it means you're mine forever, the rest doesn't matter."

Your eyes fill with tears. Before his panic can set in and force him into a long, stutter-filled explanation, and perhaps some groveling, you've launched yourself at him and buried your face in his neck.

"I'm already yours forever," you whisper, your breath on his neck making his bones feel like jelly. He's grateful to be sitting, because he's not sure if you could hold him if he collapsed in your arms.

After clinging to each other for a moment, you pull back and wipe your tears, smudging your makeup in a way that Ralph finds endearing.

"Ralph, I was only going along with all this because I thought it's what you wanted. I don't want 500 guests or a twelve-tiered cake or a month-long cruise to some far-off place where I won't understand anyone. All I want is you."

He tries to wipe your smudge away, but only makes it worse. With a smile, he leans in. You meet in the middle for a kiss that puts you both in a better mood.

"Do you think they'd kill us if we got married tonight, just the two of us?" Ralph asks.

"Yes, but if the papers are already filed, they might have to bury us together." You both giggled.

"We could elope," he suggests. You sigh, looking as if you're seriously considering it.

"My cousin Christine eloped about..." you chew your lip thoughtfully, "five years ago, I think?"

"And?" Ralph prods.

"And most of my family still refers to her husband as That Boy She Ran Off With. They've been married for five years. They have two children. At this point, I'm genuinely not sure if they're still calling him that out of spite, or because they're too embarrassed to admit they never learned his name."

"So that's a no on eloping, I suppose," Ralph jokes.

"What about doing the standard ceremony in the registry office?" you suggest. "Make an appointment, get the papers signed, rub their noses in it, then disappear for a month while they cool off."

"They'd probably plan a formal ceremony while we were gone and force us through it when we return, and all our efforts to thwart them would be for naught."

"What are we going to do, Ralph? This is our wedding. We only get one. And they're trying their hardest to ruin it for us." Ralph isn't sure whether you're closer to crying or screaming, but he'd do anything to prevent either.

"What if we plan it ourselves?"

"Like present them with a list of demands?" you half-joke.

Ralph reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small notepad and half a pencil. You raise an eyebrow. "Sometimes I think of things I want to tell you when you're not with me," he shrugs. It's true. Thoughts hit him at the most random of times. "Look," he says, flipping through the pages. "no veal" "red carnation = deep love" "send mothers to Timbuktu"

"I quite like this one." You point at the last page, and you both laugh.

"Alright," he says, flipping to a clean page. "Let's plan our wedding."

Four hours later, you returned home with your list of demands. (It hadn't taken you that long to plan the details of your wedding, but you and Ralph had decided that you deserved to go out for a quiet lunch before returning to the chaos.)

You found your mothers right where you'd left them; minus the wedding planner, who had successfully escaped. Good for her. When they noticed you standing in the doorway, they stopped quarreling with each other and focused their rage on you.

"Where HAVE you been?"

"Do you not care about your own wedding?"

"Why is there dirt on you?!"

"If you're going to call it off, do it soon, so I never have to see this horrid woman again!"

"Weren't you two friends just a few years ago?" You asked with amusement they did not share.

"Ralph, darling, please tell this pig-headed wretch that you'd rather--"

"Enough!" Ralph shouts, startling all three of you. He pulls the pad from his pocket, flipping to the most recent pages and ripping them out. "This is what we've decided."

Ralph's mother steps forward to take the papers from him, then retreats back to yours so they can read them together. It doesn't take long for their objections to begin.

"THIS is your guest list?"

"You cannot be serious."

"That's not NEARLY enough."

"Absolutely unacceptable."

"That is not an appropriate flower for a wedding."

"Our children have lost their minds."

You and Ralph stand silently, watching them bond over how much they hated your wedding plans. It came with a strange sense of satisfaction. They really had been friends once, after all. (Until that sordid affair involving Mr. Penbury dying on top of his mistress, which rendered his wife a pariah among her former friends, and led to an obsession with "healing herself" at various "wellness centers" across the country.)

"This is the wedding we want," you begin,

"And if you won't support us, we can always elope," Ralph threatens. You squeeze his hand in support. You like him like this.

As one, your mothers purse their lips. Who would've thought, this is what it would take to unite them?

"Perhaps we can compromise."

"No," you and Ralph say together, then look at each other with a grin.

"How did we raise such stubborn children?"

"They're perfect for each other."

Yes, you are.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Tangerines and deers- part 11

Series masterlist

Tag list: @slut-f0r-u, @wee-little-mouse

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. But, I’d have to think about other places. Americas just…”

“The worst?”

“Yeah.”

You laughed “I know.”

Maria and Ladybug talked while you talked with Tangerine.

“Look, I’ll see you eventually, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. And then we go on that date you owe me- both dates.”

“Both?”

“Well.. while you were knocked out I might’ve said that if you didn’t wake up in the next 5 seconds than you owe me a second date. So you owe me a second date.” You shrugged.

“I don’t mind.” He flirted.

“Deer! C’mon, we gotta leave soon.”

You kissed Tangerines cheek, and said goodbye to Lemon.

“Maybe it is just about how we frame it. Like maybe there’s no bad luck or good luck. Maybe we’re all just agents of fate.” Ladybug said as you guys walked towards her car.

“Ooh! nice car.”

“Yes, it is. Try not to bleed on it. Or puke.” She looked at you.

Then, a telephone pole crashed down on her car.

You snickered. “You were saying?” You looked to Ladybug.

You guys walked away, and ladybug picked up a bag of peas.

“Oo, wasabi peas.”

“Gross.” You said in disgust.

“Their not that bad. Fate obviously didn’t want me to have that banana. Fate did not want us to get in that car.”

“Fate also is a pain in my ass.” You said.

“Well, maybe you guys- or maybe just you learned something.”

“Fate needs me to find a smart toilet.”

“I take that back. Can you hold it?”

“I’m ballpointing.”

“Walk faster.”

“Okay. Yeah.”

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

It’s been days since the job, you’ve done nothing except sleep and stare at your phone, waiting for a text. Any text. And sometimes getting up to eat and drink.

The only people who had texted you were Maria and Ladybug.

There was then a knock on your door, you groaned, getting up annoyed, and opening the door.

It was Ladybug. He let himself in when you opened the door.

“What?” You asked him.

“Hey… Me and Maria are just worried. Thought I’d check in with you. You haven’t answered our texts-“

“I’m fine. I’m alive, right?”

He sighed and shook his head and said your name- your real name.

“If your upset about the British guy-“

“Tangerine.”

“Yeah, whatever, It’s some stupid guy. You shouldn’t waste your time on him.”

“I know.” You sighed. “It’s just that I thought I would have finally found someone, Y’Know? Maybe even the one. I know that sounds like super cliché, but it’s true.”

“It’s alright. You’re still young. You will find someone, I promise you.”

“Well, you’re old, you still don’t have anyone.” You said.

“First of all, Ouch, and secondly I don’t want anyone.”

“I guess.” You mumbled and your phone got a notification. You took it out of your pocket.

“Hey, sorry I haven’t texted. I’ve been busy, and we have decided that we are going to move to America. It seems the best and smartest idea for work and other things.”

Other things? You thought but continued reading.

“But anyways, I’m really sorry. And I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get there.”

“That him?” Ladybug asked, peeking at the message.

“Yeah.”

“That’s a shitty apology.”

“Well, I mean, he told me he doesn’t know shit about things like this. And that he never had a real girlfriend, only some in high school but they all used him.”

“Oh. Got it, got it. You’ve never had one either, though. You usually just hook up with whoever and then you’re done with them. This is good, I’m glad.” He said.

“Yeah. You were right, maybe I should just look at it like you do.”

“You don’t have to be me, I just want you to grow, as a person. And you are, and I’m happy you are. I’ll always be here for you.” He said, with a small smile.

You smiled back, and he hugged you this time.

Maybe it was time to look at things on the bright side, maybe this would work out after all.

[eikaprime]

Hi Eikaprime! I love your way of doing the hypnoshades, but if you chose to not have them be that way, how you would execute Callie's story in splatoon 2? (Okay yeah this is from Popsicles wanting to possibly hear more about that concept you mentioned a while ago - if its okay! Feel free to go 'i wanna keep that a secret' and all)

*uncontrolled, unhinged giggling from the back of the throat that slowly turns to absolute maniacal laughter bordering on hysterics*

How would I do them? Because there are so many possibilities. There are just. SO MANY. Possibilities. I don't even remember what possibility I mentioned. My brain is a black hole of thoughts, ideas, and Terribleness.

Seriously, the possibilities are endless. But maybe the best sort...

*deep breath in, slow breath out* okay, thoughts, line up here. In my Snapshots series (and presumably also in Lucky, though it's never mentioned) Callie gets the hypnoshades as a gift during Final Fest. They're from some anonymous fan, and she thinks they're neat, and puts them on completely unknowingly, and in Snapshots you get a detailed look at how they make the person see and hear things--specifically, whatever the shades are programmed to let the person see and hear. But without those?

Without those, Callie is alone.

That's where it starts. That's where it holds. With Callie and Marie apart. Marie, radio show. Callie, filming. Marie, music show. Callie, talk shows. Long days talking and laughing across a table in the news studio become late evenings, night owl Marie stumbling in exhausted around when early bird Callie wakes up, the two more or less having supfast together. Becomes telephone tag. Becomes answers on messaging machines, never actually catching each other.

They have a schedule for agent business. Gramps and Three are away, doing something important. Someone has to feed Octavio. Someone has to check the kettles. Every day, one of them--cranky, exhausted, overtired--goes in, takes Octavio's dirty dishes, gives him more food, walks around Octo Valley (but no time to search the kettles) and leaves. Callie falls asleep there a few times. It's... comforting, really. Even if it's Octavio, there will be someone there when she gets up. Someone to eat next to. Someone to complain, to tell about her and Marie's schedules, how it never matches up.

And one day, Octavio says he wants to show her something. Callie laughs, because really, what could he show her? He's in a snowglobe. He can't get out. But he says Marie gave him something. And, okay, she'll hear him out.

Marie gave him an opportunity. The real gift is the phone-like object in his hand, with too many buttons, showing Marie. In her radio studio. Where there shouldn't be any cameras. And Octavio says, very calmly, that eight splatoons of elite Octolings have been following Marie's movements. They can take her out at any time. Would Callie like to see? And his tentacle moves to a button.

NO.

Well. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.

From in the tree, where Callie had slept--a place so obvious she hadn't dreamed to look--dropping down on silent feet are elite Octolings. All have weapons; all weapons are holstered. One holds a pair of sunglasses.

Callie has a choice, he says. She can free him now, and accompany his troops below. She can accept the shades and do whatever he tells her while wearing them. Or she can watch Marie die. And trust him, there are ways to keep a squid from respawning.

Callie's sobbing. She's terrified. Not for herself. She has her roller, she could defend herself. But Marie... she'll take the shades. If she can buy some time, she can stop this. She can find a way to keep them from Marie (because who's to say they won't both be killed if Callie goes with them? Who's to say Octavio will keep his word and not hurt Marie when she's not around?). If she ever decides to join them, she should press the switch on the arm. Just tap it. Not even hard. It'll be okay then.

Never gonna happen. She can stop this.

But as Callie puts on those sunglasses--taking Octavio through Inkopolis (and whoever else is watching through those shades), to her dressing room at the movie theater, even into her own apartment, she keeps seeing... flickers. Movement, a flickering shadow that *shouldn't be there* on set. There are Octolings in Inkopolis--just there, in the cafe, not looking at her when she walks by but there. When she tours Inkopolis Power, there's someone watching from the catwalk. When she jogs through the park in the early morning, there's a rustle in the bushes. When she finally gets to speak to Marie in person, alone for the first time since... since... but why was Marie talking to Crusty Sean for so long? Why does she feel these eyes? Octavio said he'd know, and they have a window, and their neighbors... the skin crawls on Callie's back.

She puts in her schedule the day Marie will be gone. Marie will be in Calamari County. She will be safe.

Callie cancels her own train.

She goes below, to stand in front of the snowglobe.

And presses the button on the shades.

@possiblycringe

[follow-up-news]

The U.S. Department of Transportation on Monday said it fined Southwest Airlines $140 million for violating consumer protection laws during last year’s holiday meltdown that stranded millions of customers following severe winter weather. The DOT said the fine is 30 times larger than any fine it has issued for consumer protection violations. It includes a $35 million cash payment to the government, which Southwest said will be paid over three years. The agency ordered Southwest to set up a fund to compensate future travelers for flight disruptions in the airline’s control. The airline also received credit for $33 million for giving travelers affected by the disruption frequent flyer miles. “Today’s action sets a new precedent and sends a clear message: if airlines fail their passengers, we will use the full extent of our authority to hold them accountable,” Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg said in a news release. Southwest didn’t provide enough customer assistance during the meltdown or give prompt flight change notifications, the DOT said. “DOT’s investigation found that Southwest’s call center was overwhelmed, which at times led to a full call center queue and meant customers got a busy signal upon calling the customer service telephone number,” the agency said. The airline also didn’t provide refunds or reimbursements in a timely manner, the DOT said, citing an audit of the process. Southwest canceled nearly 17,000 flights during the year-end holiday period last year after it failed to recover as rivals also did from a severe winter storm, stranding some two million people and costing the airline more than $1 billion. It paid more than $600 million in reimbursements and refunds to customers alone.