#and managed in retail until very recently

[mumms-the-word]

Daydreams

Characters: Rolan x fem!Tav (Fawn) Summary: Rolan's apprenticeship isn't everything he thought it would be. On yet another dreary day of retail, he lets his mind wander to the frustrating adventurer he met at the grove and left behind in the shadow-cursed lands, a beautiful woman named Fawn. A/N: A gift for the AMAZING @orangekittyenergy for her birthday!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY friendo!!! Also this is a companion piece, a continuing of this fic about Rolan in Last Light Inn <3

Rolan could taste blood again, coppery and bitter and sharp. It no longer alarmed him. In truth, the taste of blood had become something of a daily occurrence, for one reason if not another. Just another perk of the job, he thought, his mood dark.

He rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth, searching for the source of the blood. Two tender spots lined the inside of his right cheek where his teeth had broken through the soft tissue—old wounds, about two days old, from when his master had struck him with the side of his staff for answering out of turn. The spots were sore, but they weren’t bleeding. He kept searching until he felt a sharp but fleeting pain along the side of his tongue. He managed to hide his wince.

He must have bitten down on his tongue, but he couldn’t remember when. Was it when Master Lorroakan had sent one of the books flying toward his head this morning, or more recently when a customer had wasted half an hour of his time complaining about the shop’s herb selection (as though Bonecloak’s Apothecary were not literally across the plaza) and he’d literally chewed on his tongue to avoid yelling that at them? Perhaps it didn’t matter.

He sighed softly through his nose and eyed the potions stocked underneath the counter. They had a few healing potions, and a quick swig from one of them would surely heal his bruised and bleeding tongue…but then he’d have to pay for it.

Or would he? It wasn’t as though Master Lorroakan minded the shop at all. The bastard never came down from the top floor of Ramazith’s Tower, let alone venture outside of the Upper City, even with his magical portals that linked Ramazith’s Tower with Sorcerous Sundries. No, it was Rolan’s job to man the shop, keep track of the stock and proceeds, and listen to customers and adventurers alike complain about everything. 

Some glorious apprenticeship this was turning out to be.

He again contemplated the potions but decided against it. He might be the one manning the sales counter, but Master Lorroakan kept an animated armor or two around to keep order, not to mention magical images of himself to test cocky adventurers who thought they could con their way into a reward for the Nightsong. One of them would surely tattle. If Master Lorroakan chose to care, it would mean another “surprise test.”

Rolan wouldn’t be surprised if the surprise test was another myrmidon attack.

He swallowed down the saliva and blood that had mixed on his tongue and tried to forget about the pains in his mouth. And face. And body. He rolled his shoulders to try and ease some of the stiffness there and shifted his weight on his aching feet. Just another few hours and he could close up the shop and return to Ramazith’s Tower. Perhaps his master would be in a better mood today. Perhaps he would finally let Rolan learn a new spell or two. Perhaps…

Perhaps he was just fooling himself. 

Since arriving at Baldur’s Gate, he had learned almost no new magic or magical theory, and what little he had gleaned was from books he had attempted to read when Lorroakan wasn’t looking. Instead what he had learned was how to quickly memorize the shifting pricing and stock for Sorcerous Sundries, how to listen to a complaining customer’s every third word to get through the ordeal of listening to them with less of a headache, and that Lorroakan’s Nightsong venture attracted a very particular brand of increasingly stupid imbeciles—sorry, adventurers. There was one outside right now, still shouting at one of the animated armors about the injustice of not getting to personally see Lorroakan.

Get in line. The bitter thought practically crackled inside Rolan’s mind. He rolled his eyes, mostly to himself.

He had half a mind to cast silence over the adventurer, over this entire shop really, and dull the chaotic, neverending combination of spellcasting, customer chatter, and general chaos. The shop was never quiet, what with all the magical items humming or crackling or occasionally catching fire, or the elemental summons they conjured every morning swirling with water or creaking with the full weight of their molten rock forms, or the clanking of the animated armors. There was always something happening inside the shop, something colorful or dangerous. Sometimes it was amusing. These days most of it was just annoying.

He remembered when he thought all the lightly controlled chaos was thrilling. His first day at the shop and at Ramazith’s Tower, finally in a place that would appreciate his talents. Finally somewhere with color and light, unlike those dark and twisted shadow-cursed lands they’d just escaped. But that excitement had quickly faded.

It was hard to maintain a sense of excitement and wonder when his training involved his master lashing out with violence for every wrong answer given to every nonsensical, impossible question. He wanted to be angry—he was angry—but the anger tangled up in his mind until he was never entirely sure if he was upset at Lorroakan for not making sense, or at himself for failing to understand and learn.

These days, very little made sense. 

He sighed. What he wouldn’t give to have Cal and Lia here. Just to chat over the counter, if nothing else. But more than that, just to see them again. Ever since Lorroakan had refused to let Cal and Lia join them at Ramazith’s Tower, they’d been off finding work around the city and taking rooms at various inns and taverns. Last he heard, they were trying to find rooms at the Blushing Mermaid, just a few streets away. So close, and yet so far. 

He hadn’t seen them in a few days. Either they were busy, or he was. They left notes, and he sent notes back, but he hadn’t seen them physically in a while. He missed them.

But at least they were safe. There had been a moment when he thought they were gone for good. Gone forever. He still had nightmares about it, if he let himself linger on the memories too long.

He folded his arms loosely over his chest, letting his mind wander back to that time, only a few short weeks ago. Most of the early days in the shadow-cursed lands were a haze. A drunken dream he stumbled out of only at the last minute when the shadows attacked him outside the docks of Reithwin. It should have ended with his death.

But then she appeared. 

Fawn.

Gods, he was furious when he saw her. Why her of all bloody people in Faerûn? 

He smiled a little to himself now, remembering. He’d snapped at her and griped and sulked, and she had just let his words glance off her like flimsy darts against an adamantine shield. Completely unfazed. 

He still remembered the look of concern and worry she wore before he’d yelled at her.

Even in that darkness, half-illuminated by his torchlight and the moonlit magic that protected her from the shadows, she had been…lovely. Distractingly so. Even with her eyebrows drawn with concern and the down-turned corners of her mouth, the softness of her lips and hair had distracted him almost entirely. And that distraction had made him angry. How dare she meddle in his affairs again? 

But he’d be dead without her. Days of introspection had finally let him admit that to himself. And more than that, Cal and Lia would be dead without her. It was only because of her that they had survived Moonrise and made it out alive. 

He shook his head to himself. What an annoying, infuriating, maddeningly baffling woman Fawn was.

He wondered what she was doing now.

Probably wrapped up in some chaotic adventure, no doubt. Chaos and danger seemed to follow her every step wherever she went. Or perhaps she intentionally sought it out. That seemed just as likely.

Maybe one day he could walk into chaos at her side.

He blinked, the thought taking him a little off guard. At her side? He uncrossed his arms and rubbed at his temples. Maybe the stress of retail work was getting to him. It was much more likely he’d never see her again, so what was the point of even thinking about her?

But…he glanced around the shop. All the customers were either busy studying the wares or milling about. No one looked ready to approach the counter just yet, which gave him time to…well. Daydream.

Just for a moment.

He bent and rested his forearms against the counter, allowing his back a brief rest as he let his mind wander back to her. The beautiful Fawn. These were daydreams, right? So anything could happen there.

In his mind’s eye, he pictured her walking into the shop with a crooked smirk on her plump lips, her green eyes glittering with untold mischief. She’d approach the counter and stop, setting a hand on her hip, and tilt her head to one side, her soft brown bangs brushing against her forehead.

You up for an adventure? she might say. Or perhaps, Long time, no see. Or maybe, I thought I might find you here.

He would fondly roll his eyes and respond with something clever. It took you long enough. 

And she would laugh. A bright, sparkling laugh that would buoy his dampened spirits, or a sweet, quiet giggle meant only for his ears that would make his calloused heart flutter.

Perhaps he’d get lost in staring. Perhaps he would find himself tracing the line of her nose or the shape of her ears, find his gaze trailing down the scar on her right cheek. Perhaps their eyes would meet, infernal gold with wilderness green, and he’d find in her gaze answers to questions, about her, about the two of them, that he had asked himself a dozen times since they parted in Reithwin. Or perhaps his gaze would linger on her lips, his favorite distraction, and he’d think, not for the first time, not even for the hundredth time, about what it must be like to kiss such lips. To take her mouth with his own and consume her. To pull her body against his and fit himself against her curves and lines, like a puzzle piece locking into place, two parts of one whole. 

He straightened up suddenly, hands pressed against the counter, and shifted his weight. He ought to know better than to entertain such thoughts in the middle of a busy work day.

He tapped his nails against the counter, mostly to get out some of the pent-up energy that had been building up inside him. Click-ck-ck-ck. Click-ck-ck-ck. Click-ck-ck-ck. Another noise to add to the din of the shop.

It was a stupid thought anyway, and he was a fool for playing the lovesick idiot in his dreams. Even if she walked through those doors—and she wouldn’t, he was quite sure—there would be no leaving with her. Not with Master Lorroakan holding his leash.

Oh, he could leave whenever he wanted, sure. But that would mean leaving behind the most lucrative apprenticeship he could possibly secure as a refugee of Elturel, not to mention leaving behind all the treasures of Ramazith’s Tower, be that arcane artifacts or tomes rich with knowledge. His place was here—his purpose was to stay here and make a name for himself, to provide for his family, to become the greatest wizard he could possibly be. He had the natural talent. He wanted to hone it into something awe-inspiring. Something that had value so great it would be impossible to ignore or dismiss.

If that meant dealing with Lorroakan and his insanity…so be it. He could endure it. The violence. The impossible questions. The dull inanity of retail work. He could. For Cal. For Lia.

And…in a way, for Fawn. To prove to her that he was as good as his word. That he was a wizard worth knowing, but more than that, to prove to her that he could learn from his mistakes and improve his craft. Perhaps, eventually, to prove that he was a man worthy of her attention.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his cheek, on his tongue, in his back, his feet, and rolled his shoulders. Better get back to work, then. 

Back to mindless, repetitive, neverending work.

He was just turning away to check the organization of the trinkets and potion bottles beneath the counter when he heard an all-too-familiar masculine voice at the front entrance.

“Look around you. Indulge your curiosity! Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around.”

Rolan turned his head a little too quickly, scarcely daring to believe it. Gale, that pretentious wizard from Waterdeep? But if Gale were here, then surely—

His eyes fell on her immediately, watching her laugh at something Gale said, or perhaps something the tiefling, Karlach, said. He felt himself go a little slack-jawed with surprise. He wasn’t imagining this, right? That was actually her—Fawn was actually walking into the shop with her companions in tow.

Whatever he had imagined in his daydreams and fantasies, the sight of her there in the real world was far superior. Even his best imaginings couldn’t quite capture the way her hair, tied up and back, swung gently with each step and brushed against her shoulders, or the way she moved with grace and confidence. With her staff secured on her back and her easy smile, she looked perfectly at home among the crackling magic baubles and spell summons as she carefully stepped around a wandering illusion of a crab and looked around the space.

Suddenly the shop felt alight with color and wonder again, with her occupying a space in the room. Was he only imagining a fizzling new magical energy in the room now that she had arrived, or was that simply something that always happened when she entered a room? 

Gods, she was beautiful.

He couldn’t bring himself to speak just yet, but it didn’t take her long to notice him. The delight that lit up her features was enough to sustain him the rest of the tenday. “Rolan?”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Fawn! What are you doing here?”

She laughed and jogged over to him. “Well it is called Sorcerous Sundries, isn’t it?” she said with a wink. “I figured I should check it out. What are you doing here?”

“This is my apprenticeship,” he said, shrugging.

“This?” As she reached the counter, she stopped short, her smile fading. “Rolan…”

“It…has not been what I expected,” he admitted, unconsciously lifting a hand to his face. He caught himself before he could touch one of the bruises and clenched his fist, pressing it down onto the surface of the counter. “Master Lo—”

But she didn’t let him finish. She leaned over the counter and cradled his cheek gently in her hand. The touch of her warm skin made all other thoughts fall completely away. There was that look of concern again, the down-turned corners of her mouth, and he felt himself faltering under such a look now where before it had only angered him. 

What had he done to earn such compassion from her? After all the times he’d yelled and snapped at her, tried to drive her back or insult her—he may have let his imagination get the better of him, to let himself fantasize that perhaps she would regard him as a friend, or (perhaps foolishly) a would-be lover, but he never actually expected…

“What happened, Rolan?” she asked, her thumb brushing featherlight against his cheek.

Gods, he would give anything to banish that concerned look away and see her smile instead. If this weren’t the middle of his work day, if there weren’t animated armors and Lorroakan illusions watching him at every hour, he’d abandon this counter now and follow her anywhere. But that simply wasn’t an option, and he didn’t feel worthy of it just yet.

Still…

He reached up and took her hand, gently pulling it away from his face. Normally he would let it go, try to push her away, but today…for now…he could take a small risk.

He kept hold of her hand as he lowered their hands to rest on the counter. “Nothing for you to worry about,” he said quietly. 

He felt his chest tighten as she shifted her hold on him, turning her hand so that she could hold his more comfortably. She didn’t look convinced, but she seemed willing to let the matter rest, at least for now. More than that, she seemed willing to linger.

He offered her a slightly crooked smile and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Enough about me,” he said. “I want to hear what you’ve been up to. Tell me everything, and leave nothing out. It’s not every day the savior of the world comes walking into our humble shop.”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing, but settled against the counter, still holding his hand, and began to chat. He smiled to himself as he listened to her recount the latest adventures since they’d last seen one another, content to listen to her voice. The whole time, she never let go of him and she didn’t seem to mind when he began to rub absent-minded circles into her skin with his thumb.

It all felt so natural and easy. Comfortable. Normal. Unlike so much else these days. There was chaos, there was bitterness, there was frustration…and there was Fawn, who felt like a breath of fresh air and the crackling of new energy all in one.

Funny how things change.

If he weren’t physically holding her hand, he might have convinced himself she was just an illusion, something his bored and tired mind had conjured just to get him through another monotonous day. But no, she was here. She was here, and she didn’t look any the worse for wear, and she made the entire room glow with her mere presence.

And she was beautiful.

Maybe one day he would actually tell her that. Out loud, outside of his daydreams.

But not today. He bit his tongue gently on the un-injured side and contented himself with simply listening and holding her hand. Ten minutes ago, he was certain he’d never see her again. Now, it was enough to know she was in the same city as him, adventuring and getting into trouble mere blocks from where he manned this dismal little counter. 

The world looked a little brighter now that she had walked into his shop. He could work with that.

[mercedesvince]

Hihi I’m kinda new to requesting and I didn’t know if yours was still open or not. But you are doing the people’s work cause I can���t find x male readers anywhere 😭

Can you do a Kenny x male Reader where the reader remembers Kenny’s deaths but because no one talks about it, reader doesnt say anything

Then one night, somehow Reader bumps into Mysterion (not knowing he’s kenny) and asks him to look over Kenny to keep him from dying every day?

Thank youuu 🫶

Kenny McCormick x Male Reader

“Can You Just Watch Over Him?”

Getting out of bed had never been this hard. Your alarm had gone off nearly 20 minutes ago, you knew you were gonna have to rush to get to school, but that didn’t matter right now. You couldn’t get over it. Your best friend in the whole world, Kenny McCormick, was gone. Dead. Some aliens who had also taken Kyle’s little brother had killed him.

The snow made a small crunch sound as you took steps towards your everyday bus stop. You reached your stop, only to be met with a.. pleasant surprise? “Kenny..?” you said, shock clearly evident on your face. “What’s up dude?” he muffled out. “What- Wait wait but you—“ you couldn’t even get your words out. Were you dreaming? No way Kenny’s here. He died. He literally fully died yesterday. “Hey [name] what’s up man?” Stan said. They all continued to carry out the conversation. So casually, did they not remember? No way, Stan and Kyle had to remember, no way Cartman wouldn’t bring it up. “Hey [name], are you alright dude?” Kenny asked you, with his muffled voice. Still in a phase of shock, you looked at all of them, they were all so nonchalant, so chill. “Yeah… yeah, yeah i’m fine,” you answered.

——————————————————————————

You walked your way out of the mall next to Stan, laughing at some joke he had made. You both had landed a job in retail together a few months ago, and as of recently your manager had been pairing you guys up for the closing shift.

Originally, you had asked Kenny to come into the job interview with you, not only because he was your best friend (and you may or may not have grown a thing for him in the last couple years), but because you wanted to keep a closer eye on him. You would continuously go out of your way to keep him safe, and prevent as many as his deaths as possible. He ended up turning you down though, something about how he was busy. He didn’t give too many details, but you didn’t push on it, figuring if it was something he wanted you to know he’d tell you. But Stan didn’t need to know he was your second option.

“Alright man, i’ll see you tomorrow,” “Yeah, goodnight [name], i’ll see you tomorrow.” Parting your ways with Stan, you pulled your phone out, shooting your parents a quick text that you were heading home. Putting your phone in your pockets, you kept your hands in them, making your way home.

However, your walk was interrupted when you suddenly felt a pull on your arm jerking you into a small alleyway. Immediately you felt your back slam against a wall, “Give me your wallet!” You hadn’t even processed what was happening, but in a second of your fight or flight response activating, you threw a kick at the guy in front of you. Catching him off guard you used your chance to escape and run up a fire escape a few feet away from you. you managed to run up a flight of stairs before the same man grabbed your feet, causing you to trip. In a panic you tried to wriggle your way out, ignoring the pain from falling on the stairs. You tried to kick the man with your free leg, but he just wouldn’t let go, dragging you down the stairs toward him, that is until he was suddenly pulled over the railing.

Still feeling the adrenaline and panic in your body you listened to your flight response and ran up the fire escape as quickly as possible. You only stopped to catch your breath at the very top of the building. Taking a minute to get your thoughts together you leaned on a small brick fence on the roof.

You had managed to calm down for the most part, that is until you heard a voice behind. You jolted up and immediately spun around, getting ready to make a run for it. “Hey, relax, i’m just making sure you’re okay,” You focused on the person in front of you, recognizing who it was after a second. The famous hero, Mysterion. “Oh my god,” was all you could get out. “I asked if you were okay, but looking at you know I don’t think you are”. You had heard about him on the news before, I mean which South Park resident hasn’t? “Your Mysterion,” you stated. Obviously. “You’re hurt” he responded. Adrenaline still rushing through your body, you hadn’t realized the stinging feeling on your lower face. Suddenly becoming self aware, you reached up to your face and looked at your hand, blood. “Oh my god,” You repeated. “Let me help you,” you looked up again to the hero, unable to say anything but a small ‘okay’.

——————————————————————————

The hero that saved you had gone to go get some supplies to help with a cut that had appeared on your chin. After he came back he began to clean up the wound, finally placing a small bandaid on it.

“Thanks again dude, you probably saved my life,” Mysterion looked up to meet your eyes, “It’s my job,” you thought for a second. “You mean it’s your job to keep the people of South Park safe?” the both of you just continued making eye contact.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you a favor then?”

Mysterion looked suprised, not expecting you to ask such a question. “Go ahead”.

“I have this friend, his names Kenny McCormick,” you had turned away at this point, unable to see the uneasiness in Mysterion at the mention of the name. “He’s like, my best friend in the world, but he’s always getting himself into danger. I don’t know how he does it, but he keeps getting himself hurt, damn, even killed,” Mysterion’s eyes shot wide open. No. There’s no way you knew. How did you know? How did you remember? “but he always comes back. I try to look out for him, but it’s like the world’s against him. I know this might be weird to ask and stuff cause I don’t know you and you don’t owe me anything,” you took a pause, and turned to look at Mysterion. “but could you look out for him? You’re the town’s hero, and you protect and save people and I know you’re busy, but could you just check in on him every now and then? I mean I know he’ll be okay, he always is in the end, but know one around us ever seems to remember and seeing your friend get continuously killed over and over again, it just, I don’t know, tears you apart.” you took a small inhale. “I can’t imagine it’s not painful for him either”.

Mysterion was taken aback, because he WAS Kenny McCormick, and ironically enough, he had spent the last few weeks watching over YOU. Making sure you got from school to you job and from you job to your home safe. All because you were his best friend. All these years, since elementary, he had been watching over you as Mysterion, only to find out that you had tried to do the same thing. Except you didn’t do it with a superhero alter ego, you didn’t do it as a way to also protect the people of South Park. You did it as his best friend, simply trying to keep him from pain.

The biggest shock of all however, came from the fact that you knew, you remembered, every single one of his deaths. Why didn’t you ever say anything?

“I know it sounds crazy, but i’m not lying,” Mysterion stared at you for a second, “Well, why didn’t you ever tell him you remember?” Truth is you had thought about bringing it up to him, but what if he didn’t want you to know? What if it upset him if he knew? Would he feel guilty? Would he be mad at you for not doing anything to stop it? “I don’t know,” was the answer you chose to respond with. There was silence between you two for a minute, before Mysterion broke it. “I’ll keep an extra watch on him,” was all he said, he began to walk off. “Thank you!” you yelled. He could hear the joy in your voice. You saw Mysterion walk down the fire escape, but when you went to follow him he was no longer there, you made your way home, unaware of the fact that you were still being followed by the hero.

Kenny kept thinking about you even after he saw you enter your house. All this time you knew? How much did this affect you? Him constantly dying has bothered him so much, but to know that you might share the same pain as him? Again the thought plagued in his head, as to why you never told him. Maybe he’ll talk about it with you, as Kenny this time.

When you finally laid down in bed, you thought back to your conversation with Mysterion, but as you went over your words with him, you started thinking. Why didn’t he doubt you? How did you immediately know who Kenny was? He had asked you why you never told Kenny you knew about his deaths, but… you never mentioned that Kenny was unaware of you knowing.

[mugzymiik]

my tpc headcanons bc why not :D

SOME CHARS I DONT HAVE TOO MANY FOR (IF I HAVE ANY FOR THEM AT ALL) :sob::sob::sob:

[last updated: august 20, 2024]

main chars:

caretakers:

Cube:

trans FtM

he and Lythorus have absolutely been down bad for each other in the past but they never brought it up at all (until really recently now they kis!!!! they kiss!!!!! they kissy k)

REALLY likes cats

has a pretty good tolerance to the cold. all cubes do (in my headcanons anyway) but his is especially great

used to have really bad control over his strength (he and Lythorus HAVE had a pillow fight in the way past and Lyth got smacked into the wall on complete accident)

back when he and Lythorus started dating he tried to rest his head on top of Lythorus's as a way of affection and he proceeded to get stabbed by the spike

Iris:

has a really deep voice. but at the same time he somehow also sounds like a really tired teenager who works retail

Pentellow:

has a british accent

also knows a frightening amount of very unsettling fun facts

shes the tallest out of the non-monster caretakers (so herself, Iris and Cube). why? fuck you. fuck you is why /HEVJ/VSILLY

Pyrare:

he "talks with his hands" >:] i stole this hc from a friend btw/hj/lhj (hi Tea /silly)

he and Ketches are close friends i also stole this hc :3

he has pockets in his robe and its like a "time-out area" for Gold (but sometimes Gold chills in there anyways)

he named Barracuda and Gold after his pet fish. like, genuinely. with how big monsters are, barracudas could practically be goldfish and actually goldfish could be like guppies or something to them

heroes:

Cyan:

likes to follow people around!!! and also doesnt like being left alone for long periods of time

he and Cyanide somehow get confused for each other a lot???? literally nobody knows how but it very much happens

Orange:

eepy lil guy :D

Tsavorite and him are each other's impulse control. ofc its mostly Orange whos keeping Tsavorite from walking straight into a landmine (/j ofc) but they keep each other out of trouble (most of the time at least)

if bored enough, he can and will find ways to fit into places that will have everyone wonder "HOW THE FUCK DID HE GET IN THERE- HOW DO WE GET HIM OUT???" and he somehow manages to squeeze out flawlessly every time. he has never gotten truly stuck

will drink straight mayo (<- stolen headcanon (hi Tea /SILLY))

Tsavorite:

genderfluid and uses any pronouns. :3c he? yes! they? yes! she? yes! literally any neopronoun(s)? HELL YEAH!!!

also has a british accent

constantly compares Orange to an actual orange (teasingly ofc)

very alert, but "backwards". like. he'll be able to notice a cool beetle from 5 feet away but wouldnt be able to tell you where Orange headed off to despite being right next to him just a few seconds ago

shows affection thru hugs and pokes. basically just. physical touch

adding onto the last one!!! if he cant be physically affectionate they will just give random ass gifts :D

knows a lot abt physical weapons to the point where its honestly a littol unnerving because hOW DOES HE KNOW ABT ALL THIS-

the shortest out of all the Heroes once theyre all matured. and theyre so pissed abt it to this day /silly

actually really likes horror elements in media

can hold intense eye contact for extended periods of time without blinking (and has intimidated multiple people with it on complete accident)

can and will fistfight someone over chicken nuggets btw

HATES the snow. and all the other Heroes tease them (/aff) abt it ever since they all found out bc "we thought you loved EVERYTHING"

owns a shitton of pins i dont take criticism on this one sorry /vlh

does NOT care for formalities. like. at all. like say if he met a "King Guy" he wouldnt say "King Guy" hed just say "Guy"

he has been caught eating weeds from the front lawn on multiple occasions

REALLY doesnt like mayo. its literally the ONLY thing they wont eat and if he even SEES it she straightup gags

Gold:

knows PSL (Paradisian Sign Language). this is a hill i will die on/j

has bit Tsavorite multiple times for holding him BUT Tsav didnt really care so he eventually just got used to it and now theyre besties :)

tall. tall fuck. everyones confused asf bc hes not physically related to Pyrare so he couldnt get those kinda """genes""" but hes still REALLY fuckin tall (when matured ofc)

does NOT like water AT ALL (self-projection beam GO/j)

VERY SNAKE-LIKE!!! he can hiss. he has fangs. and hes more sensitive to chilly weather and the cold than most other shapes

despite his sensitivity to cold weather he does love snow

whenever hes nervous and/or anxious he just starts singing random songs but in a purposely bad way (haha what do uou Mean im self projecting um)

back when he was saying Literally Nothing he WOULD speak occasionally but in only one word sentences. those single words were unintentionally very vaguely threatening 9 times outta 10

↓

i know its literally not possible in any way BUT that fluff on his jacket? whenever he's angry/frightened/defensive/whatevertf, that fluff poofs up like a cobra's hood

he would start a mass extinction event if anything happened to the other Heroes /j

his bandana used to be around his neck like Cyan's, but it was moved to his leg a little while after he was birthed because his leg got hurt. anyways yeah the bandana was the only thing that could potentially be used at the moment so it was moved to his leg by Pyrare as a makeshift bandage or smth. and afterwards he just kept it there, it was fucking w his sensory issues anyway </3 that leg is a little more fragile because of the past injury

Cyanide:

has multiple songs pirated on herself. i do not take criticism/j

tall for an unmatured hero :3c

gets attached to people very very easily, but mostly people who show her even just an ounce of kindness :(

whenever she's trying to "hide something", she uses very detailed language,,for example, if she did something like sneaking out or smth she'd say "greetings" instead of just "hi" or "hello"

"lags" more whenever its hot out

being ANYWHERE around her at ANY point in time is a BIG fuckin risk because she can play Never Gonna Give You Up/Whistle/that stickbug gif on herself on command /SILLY

sometimes she gets so angry that she starts yelling and her filter kicks in BUT she is so angry that it gets kinda fucky and. instead of her yelling. funky town or smth like that will just start playing at full volume and in microwave quality

groups:

chipzel:

Purpex:

i dont have any for her as of rn D:

Marcle:

really likes chicken nuggets. its really random but she LOVES chicken nuggets

Squadril:

is CONSTANTLY called short by Purpex and Marcle + everybody in all the other groups (teasingly ofc)

bossfight:

Cintagon:

Round <3

is absolutely dating Circumsphere

bisexual and also polyamorous :D if he was given the choice between getting his dead wife back or staying with Circumsphere he would choose both with ZERO hesitation

Circumsphere:

i dont have any rn :[

danimal cannon:

Quintagon:

very strong for a pentagon (once when she n Hexagram were younger she hit him and he had a big ass bruise for a few days)

Hexagram:

has a very bad obsession with vikings, which is why his corrupt form has a "viking"-ish look

Polyhedron:

i got none rn :<

big giant circles:

Circumuscle:

doesnt swear very often so when he does its a shock to everyone/lhj

a big softie! to those he deeply cares abt tho

he has to be gentle whenever he hugs someone bc hes gonna break someones back someday if he isnt/lhj

Rincle:

IS THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF CIRCUMUSCLE SWEARING-WISE if she is given a single chance to say Fuck she WILL absolutely take it with zero hesitation at all/lhj

Spheer:

they and Circumuscle have an "older brother + younger sibling" dynamic

has a british accent as well

Cirtunda:

i dont got any for her either D:

other:

Lythorus:

very distractible

also said in Cube's section; he and Cube were absolutely down bad for each other in the past but never actually acknowledged it (untill recently now they smooch)

aquatic flower (explained further in the world-wise "shape related" section)

has a VERY bad fear of insects

hes 6ft. and he and Cube have a running joke with this using his name as a measurement. something's exactly 12ft tall? its 2 Lythoruses tall actually/j/lhj

Heli:

nonbinary!!! and uses he/she/they pronouns :D

he and Ketches r like,,partners. take that in any way possible

has the ability to form a body beneath her, buuuut she prefers to fly

a sweetheart through and through. but when/if they do decide to get silly and start teasing people sometimes he accidentally takes it way too far

Ketches:

absolutely has a "pirate" accent r u kidding me/lhj

also has the ability to form a body like Heli

is an uncle figure to Gold

can honk. not like a duck i mean like a boat. "WOOAOAOAOAORRRR" <- that kinda honk

corrupts:

Dub:

he can purr. i dont take criticism sorry/hj/lhj

he and Barracuda were gay as FUCK i will DIE on this hill istg/lhj

took guitar classes before he and Cuda went pinksauced

left a seat in the tower's "main room" just in memory of Barracuda. little does he actually know--/lhj

Barracuda:

is actually a ghost rn!! after Dub escaped from the seal he just roams around the tower and also occasionally chills next to Dub (even if Dub cant see him at all + has no idea he's even there)

Cubic:

bitch

he and Lycanthropy have BEEF for some godforesaken reason

Cube HAS tried to stick up to him once in the dreamscape(??? is that whats its called???) but Cubic IMMEDIATELY shot him down using a threat against Cyan

Ajaceare:

idk rn D:

George:

his spikes are different from other flowers'; most flower's spikes are pretty sharp, but his never sharpened from childhood, and thus are a little "dull-ended"

Hexacrigon:

idk for her either rn

Cintagram:

manipulative as FUCK. the only person he hasnt ever lied to is Circumcannon

speaking of which. he and Circumcannon still kiss/lhj

Circumcannon:

no ideas,,again😭😭😭

Hexadic:

same as all the others

Lycanthropy:

the only thing keeping he and Cubic from fistfighting each other every time they see each other is that they both know that 1) Dub WILL somehow find out and WILL get their asses and 2) Cubic is strong enough to actually kill Lycanthropy if they fight too hard. and Cubic doesnt wanna fling himself into boiling hot water (not literally ofc) + Lycanthropy doesnt wanna die to THIS bitch's hand

a lot of the other corrupted flowers see him as a "general"/"commander" due to Lythorus being leader of the (uncorrupted at least) flowers

should NOT be trusted with any kind of powertools ever

he can go fuckin insane on the drums

Circubit:

pretty close friends with Macabre

would absolutely dj in his spare time

world-wise hcs:

shape related:

spheres are the speediest out of all the shapes

cubes have a natural resistance to the cold

some flowers have the ability to live entirely underwater, its kinda like a "subtype" for them; theyre often referred to as "aquatic flowers"

flowers have fangs :3c chompers even!!!

spheres are the most likely out of any other shape "species" to be able to grow hair

flowers are naturally tall as shit!!!

flowers' spikes arent as "sharp" when theyre young- they "sharpen up" quite a bit as they get older, though

adding onto the last one, aquatic flowers' spikes are a little more on the duller side

other/unrelated to anything else:

some shapes dont have a "combat ability"

all of the group members of a certain area have meetups sometimes, and occasionally ALL of the groups meet up as a whole (pretty rare considering the size of Paradise, but it still happens at times!)

all the heroes have an odd obsession with going in and out of windows instead of doors. there could be an open door right next to a window and any one of them would still open the window and go right out of it

after Dub is defeated, every year on the anniversary of that day the Heroes get in a circle and chant "its not over til its over" to each other for exactly an hour straight. the caretakers were VERY worried initially, and debated calling an exorcist or something- but theyve grown used to it after like the first 3 years. but it still scares the shit out of anybody else who's unfortunate enough to witness it

in terms of the Trees creating the Heroes, creating and birthing them are two different things. initially, the Tree creates the Hero BUT they aren't immediately taken out of the Tree– instead, theyre in a kitten-like state for like a week and then they lose that state afterwards. and a week after that they are FINALLY taken out of the Tree by their caretaker

[cryley]

Petrichor - Part 1

matty healy x reader (fluff) word count: 2.4k A/N: (moved from @cryley-fics where it was originally posted) ♡ Helloooo, it's Ry. This is actually the first fic I've posted on tumblr and also the first fic I've written in 7ish years. I've recently been yanked back into my 1975 obsession and literally can't stop thinking about Matty, so I decided to write again. Please please please be kind since I am v rusty with my writing ♡ ▹ masterlist ▹ part 1 ▹ part 2 ▹ part 3 ▹ part 4 ▹ part 5

I quickly brushed my hands off onto my apron before walking to the back room. Glancing at my watch, I groaned. It was too early to be awake. Well, I didn’t feel awake, but I tried my hardest to appear coherent. My eyes scanned the shelf full of metallic-looking bags until I found the one I needed. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here this early.”

“Good morning to you too, Atlas.” Grabbing the full bag of espresso beans, I chuckled. “I requested this afternoon off.”

Pushing my way back through the swinging door, I plopped the bag on the counter. The cafe was really quiet in the mornings before we opened. It was nice to see it this way before the rush of equally tired people waiting to get their dose of beans.

“Well if you ever want to switch permanently to mornings, I can maybe convince Lansen.” Atlas stood at the end of the counter tying his apron around his waist. 

I liked working the afternoon shifts, but it is nice working morning shifts when you end your shift at noon. Yeah, waking up at 3 am to get ready for work is the least fun thing to do in the world, but it beats retail. 

I shrugged and continued filling the machine with the beans, “When you’re done clocking in, can you finish setting up while I count in the back?”

Looking over to Atlas, he nodded. He didn’t mind staying out front all morning if I’d let him. Paperwork was his enemy. 

We were both some of the only shift leaders at this cafe. Most employees were either underage, newer hires, or simply just didn’t want the responsibility. Atlas was a very charismatic people-person who is perfect for customer interaction while I was…well let’s just say I liked doing back-of-house paperwork. 

Walking over to my side, he bumped my shoulder to give me the queue that he will take over. Before pushing past the door, I switched on the speakers and put on the “manager-approved playlist” which mostly just consisted of repetitive weird piano and smooth jazz.

I placed the register drawers on the desk and got to counting. My head bobbed to the awkward sound of cups clanging and off tempo trumpet. Checking the clock on the office wall, I stood up and sighed.

Jamming the drawers back into the registers, I heard Atlas humming to the speaker’s music. He always seemed too happy in the mornings. I watched him lightly dance around behind the bar as he made iced tea.

“Going to the restroom quickly before we open in 10.”

I untied my already somewhat messy apron and placed it behind the counter before walking off. The bathroom was well-lit and clean. Thankfully the closers did their job yesterday without me around. 

My tired reflection stared back at me in the mirror. In a rush, I could only manage to throw a beanie over my blonde hair and had to skip the contacts today. I pulled off my round wire-framed glasses to give them one last clean before inevitably becoming covered in splashes of coffee during my shift. I already couldn’t wait to go home and shower.

“Got any plans this weekend?” Atlas questioned as I placed my apron carefully back around my waist. 

I grabbed the keys to unlock the front door, “Going to that show I told you about last week.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot that was today. Makes sense now why you are working a morning shift.” He ran his fingers through his messy brown hair while looking at his reflection on a spoon. 

I rolled my eyes and settled into my usual spot behind the espresso machine. Atlas didn’t mind handling the register. More people to make conversation with.

A couple groups of customers came in over the next couple of hours. Most of them left with coffee to go, but some of the regular visitors made themselves comfortable at their usual tables. Atlas and I would sometimes switch positions with me at the register, but he would often chuckle at my fake chipper small talk, so I would make him switch back with me. 

“Hey Y/N! Hey Atlas!”

I finished my last cappuccino for the small crowd of customers and peered over my shoulder.

“Morning Lindsay.” I smiled, grabbing a rag to clean the counters, “Can you take over the bar for me so Atlas can take his break?”

She nodded as I stood behind the register. Atlas lazily saluted to me before disappearing to the back room. 

Lindsay started to clean and organize the drink area while I emptied the old pot of dark roast, so I could brew a fresh batch. It was nice to breathe for a second after the morning rush of customers subsided. 

“I’m going to go get some more beans from the back. Did you need anything?” Lindsay skipped over to the door while her ponytail twirled behind her. 

My finger tapped BREW, “No, I don’t think so. Thank you though Lin.”

I turned back to the register to check the time, 10 am. Only two hours left and I can leave for the week. I decided to use my time off this week after the concert because I never seem to have a reason to take vacations throughout the year otherwise. At least this week I might be able to take a trip somewhere after I recover from the show. 

The cafe seemed to quiet down until the sound of the door closed. I looked out at the now pouring down rain I didn’t realize started during my shift. A man shook off his dark umbrella before walking up to the counter. He had his head down, putting the umbrella away in his bag. He was a bit taller than me and dressed in a long black coat. It was open just enough to see his forest green distressed sweater over top of a white shirt. 

“Good morning.” The man mumbled in an unfamiliar voice.

It almost sounded like he spoke in an accent, but you couldn’t put your finger on it since it was so low and mumbled. 

“Good morning. What can I get for you?” I fidgeted my fingers, tracing over the tattoos on my arm. 

“Uh, a dark roast please.”

He was definitely British. 

I looked up from my hand tracing over the ink on my skin, “I actually just started brewing a fresh pot of dark roast. If you grab a seat at a table, I can bring it to you when it’s finished if you’d like?”

My eyes finally met his. Oh god. I know this man.

His brown eyes stared back at me. The sides of his mouth curled up to form a slight smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be here for a bit. I have some work to do, so it probably won’t be my last cup either.” His hand raised to his curly brown hair to push it out of his face. 

I finally broke eye contact to turn towards the pot of brewing coffee, “It’ll probably be about 5 minutes. Would you like anything to eat? It’s on the house.”

The dark-haired man cocked his head to the side raising his eyebrows, “Well I would love a scone.”

“I’ll bring it to you.”

He pulled out his phone and tapped it to the reader to pay for the coffee, “Thanks.” 

I definitely knew who this man was. I didn’t think I’d be seeing him before tonight. 

I grabbed the scone from the bakery case and placed it onto a plate using some tongs while the man found a seat at the table closest to the front window. I watched him as he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. He just started to settle down into his spot when I placed the plate on his table.

He cheekily smiled up at me with a wink, “Thank you, love.”

I flirtily winked back at him before heading to check on the brew. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked behind the counter. 

Atlas emerged from the back and placed his apron back on. I checked the clock and replaced the now empty apron hook with my own apron.

“Let me make myself a drink quickly and deliver this man his dark roast before I go on my break.”

Atlas nodded and began to take a couple of lingering orders at the till. 

As I finished pouring myself a hot tea, the dark roast was finally finished. I smiled back at the man at the corner table and realized his eyes never left me. A cup in each hand, I made my way back to the familiar face. 

“Here’s your dark roast.” I placed the cup gently on the table as I glanced down at his tattoos, “Did you need any cream or sugar?”

He caught me glancing and rolled up his sleeves to show off the art, “No thank you, love. I prefer it as is.”

“Nice meeting you, Matty. Enjoy your coffee.”

The man took a break from sipping his drink to look back in my direction. His eyes met mine once more as I blushed through a smile. 

I turned and made my way over to my usual couch in the opposite corner in front of the cafe. I usually took my breaks out on the floor since the back office didn’t get service at all. I could use the hour to catch up on emails. At least I would try to start catching up on emails until I undoubtingly get distracted from my crush sitting opposite me. Placing my tea on the coffee table to save my spot, I rushed to the back to grab my phone and headphones.

“Do you know that guy or something?” Lindsay followed me into the back.

A giggle escaped my mouth, “Not exactly. Just indirectly, I guess.”

She side-eyed me with a cheeky look before grabbing a refill of vanilla sweetener and heading back through the door. 

I could feel the heat rising to my face. Shoving my headphones in my ears, I decided to check the mirror in the office before returning to my tea. Man, I looked terrible. When I had dreamed of meeting Matty before, I didn’t look like I had been run over by a van. Managing to straighten my hair out as much as possible, I took a deep breath and made my way back out to the cafe. Pulling out my phone, I navigated to my music.

“On break” I mumbled over to the others while still staring down at my phone. 

My feet carried me over to the familiar maroon couch until an unfamiliar sight was sat in my spot. Matty. 

“Sorry,” He smirked, “were you going to sit here?”

Speechless, I picked up my tea, “It’s okay. I can sit somewhere e-”

“I’m joking!” He scooted over to the other end of the couch away from the window, “Come sit with me. I could use the company.”

“Didn’t you have work you wanted to get done?”

“It can wait.” He took another sip of his coffee. 

Without much hesitation, I shuffled my way into my seat realizing it was a lot closer to him than it had seemed. I blushed and picked up my tea, eager to take a sip. 

“So you obviously know who I am. Will you tell me about you?” He nudged my shoulder with his own. 

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, “My name is Y/N.”

“Lovely name.”

I smiled, “And after work today, I’ll be getting ready to go to your show.”

“Oh, are you not one of those people who wait outside for hours and hours?” He takes a long sip of his drink, still not breaking eye contact. 

I’m the one to break it first as I look down at my hands and chuckle, “unfortunately I could only get stadium seating. GA was impossible to snag.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And expensive as fuck.” I rolled my eyes at him. 

“Okay, well that isn’t exactly our fault.”

I gave him an accusing look and shrugged. 

“Hey! I promise it isn’t our fault!” He laughed while leaning into my side, “Anyway, you shouldn’t accuse someone of lying when they could get you a side-stage view of your favorite band.”

His body leaning into mine felt like fire flowing through me. He was just a normal person like everyone else. I usually didn’t feel nervous when meeting famous people before. I used to meet loads of my favorite artists back when I went to shows more frequently. Maybe because I was just caught off guard in “the wild”?

“You’re telling me that you could get me side-stage tickets to Phoebe Bridgers?”

He matched my smirk, “Hah Hah. Very funny. I meant my band.”

“Bold of you to assume the 1975 is my favorite band.” I sipped my tea. 

“Your tattoo gave it away.” He lightly grabbed my arm in one hand and pointed with the other. 

I had a lot of tattoos on my arm, but in between some of the larger pieces I had a little box with the words “modernity has failed us” in scribbled writing. 

I immediately blushed. Not just from him noticing my 1975 tattoo, but mostly from the grasp he had on my arm. He rubbed his thumb over the scribbled words decorating my skin. 

“You have a lot of other cool ones too, but I think this is my favorite.” He winked. 

“So uh,” I tried not to stumble over my words, “what else do you want to know about me?”

“A lot actually. I have time.”

“Well, I only have 40 minutes left on my break.” I gestured with my free hand to the clock. 

He let go of my arm to rummage through his bag. I really wished he hadn’t let go. It felt cold and lonely without his warm thumb brushing over my skin. 

“That settles it then,” he handed me his phone, “can I have your number?”

My heart dropped. Is he serious right now? Even if I give him my number, it’s not like he is actually going to reach out to me. 

I take his phone and type my number into the field. I saw that he had already added my name at the top. Y/N (cute barista). 

[darlingfeeder]

Sea Salt Beach Boardwalk, Ep. 1

Katie is a large woman, no one has ever denied that. She's a true local; she practically grew up on the boardwalk. Therefore, she spent all of her summers as a kid begging her parents for candy at the candy shop, all of her teenage summers flirting with the boy behind the ice cream counter (who was all too happy to give the chubby girl some free ice cream now and then), and as soon as she turned 18 she started working at the Candy Factory Sweet Shop to make some money and sample the merchandise as she pleased.

Katie's favorite candy in the shop is the handmade fudge. It's easy to make, very filling, and tastes sooooooo good. With her employee discount making it basically free, Katie eats at least an entire block of fudge every shift. Since they have dozens of fudge flavors to choose from, she never gets bored of it. Their caramels are also known for being fantastic, as is their taffy. Those aren't very filling, but they're a tasty little snack to pop in your mouth. The artisanal chocolates, Katie has found, are great gifts for welcoming new faces to the pier. They're like, addictingly good, and almost always ensure repeat customers.

Katie takes most of her lunch breaks at the Fry Hut with her best friend Sarah. They chat and gossip and giggle as best friends do over buckets and buckets of french fries, fried chicken, fried fish, corndogs, onion rings, and even more french fries. About three times a week before work, for breakfast the girls would get what they called 'beach babes brunch' from a diner just off the shore which consisted of a tall stack of pancakes, bacon and eggs, and iced coffees-- Katie took hers with mostly cream and only a little coffee.

Her steady diet of fried snacks and candy meant that after 10 years of working at the Candy Factory, the chubby teen had blossomed into an enormously fat woman. Her long luscious blonde hair frames her double chins, round cheeks, and wide smile. She has strikingly wide hips (good thing the shop has a wide double door, she needs it!). Her big belly rests on her lap while she sits behind the fudge counter. Her belly jiggles when she laughs with customers as she does every day. She is always full of candy and zest for life. Katie is the poster girl for fat and happy.

She worked her way up to manager of the Candy Factory, but she kept her first uniform as a keepsake. Adorable that she ever fit into an XL polo shirt. In the shop office, there are photos of the staff from every summer dating back decades. Katie loves these pictures not only because they remind her of her old friends, but because they show very clearly how much she grew over the years: from just over 200 pounds her first summer to a glowing 254 pounds the following year, on and on with a new uniform to fit her growing body every season until this year: She'd accidentally outgrown the largest size the uniform manufacturer makes! At a heavy and still growing 517 pounds, 28-year-old Katie finally got to create her own uniform, though sometimes she still wears her old one, just to show off how tight it is.

Recently, Katie's Candy Factory got a new hire. Katie is working on training Jen, whose resume for retail work was strong, but seems to lack the enthusiasm for sweets. Jen has a particularly dark demeanor; you'd guess by looking at her she never really left her goth phase. Her baby blue Medium work polo looks comically cheery against her jet-black hair and facial piercings. Jen is a college student who's only working for the summer, but Katie is determined that in just three months she'll teach Jen what makes candy so wonderful, even if it means she has to feed her new samples every day. Besides, Katie thinks, Jen is so skinny anyway, she could use some candy in that belly.

[storycraftcafe]

Character Profile Tag

Thanks for tagging me @inseasofgreen

Gonna dig into my notes for the lading lady of my unnamed paranormal romance thingy.

Rules: Copy and paste the template, fill it out for one or more of your OC's, then post your OC's and the blank template for others to copy and paste.

Name: Katherine

Nickname: Kat, Kathy, never Kath

Kind of being: Human.

Age: 21-22

Sex: Female

Appearance: Young, around average height, stocky build with strong shoulders, and thick thighs. Shoulder length wave, dyed black, faded ends, green eyes. Wears glasses, prefers darker clothing varying from practical and comfortable to standard rock girl fare: boots, jeans, band shirt and jacket.

Occupation: Retail at a Outdoor and Hunting Store. (long story)

Family Members: Dad: Stephen, tragically and very recently deceased. (right in front of her). Mum: Alice. Alive but estranged but currently taking her daughter in. Also has secretive reasons for leaving that are plot/worldbuilding related. Paternal Uncle: Bazza (Benjamin), an absolute rough-nut of a human. Handles pest control on farms and shears sheep, helps manage livestock Kind of a nomad. Maternal Grandmother: Linda. Kat doesn't remember her Grandmother well or fondly. Might have something to do with that boatload of trauma.

Pets: Crocbait, knowns as Croc, Crocca, or "Absolute mongrel". Service dog for panic attacks, anxiety and PTSD and the like. Is a mutt, seems to be some combination of Blue Heeler (aussie cattle dog) and Labrador mix. The result is an energetic, friendly but fiercely protective companion that knows how to be adorable on demand.

Best friend: Back in Aus: Rachel - Roommate and bestie, athletic playing Netball on the weekends, degree in business and working at a call center to make ends meet. Taught Kat crotchet and his a small side business making crochet stuffies. In the US: Alex: Very neurodivergent, transman and just a practical nerd. Shoots for fun/hunting. Introvert, but sees a fellow outsider in Kat and offers the kind of friendship they wished they had. Strong problem solver and a stable rock.

Describe his/her room: More of a guest bedroom with en-suite upgraded. At one point her Mum hope she'd visit and use it so there's still some younger vibes, a few of Kat's favourite toys untouched for years and pale colours. Kat's touch is limited with darker bed spreads, personal photos and a books. It's early days yet and she isn't sure how long she's staying around.

Way of Speaking: Wry sarcasm, and quick wit, casual and slag filed until she's pissed off then it gets precise and impersonal and a little condescending. If it suddenly starts raining hard, she's likely to ask "Think it'll rain?" while getting soaking wet.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Good posture, stims by rubbing her hands, along a scar from arrow fletching on her right hand. Jiggles her leg, bites her lip when anxious. Facial expressions tend to be subtle when she's not feeling something intense. Exudes physical confidence, holds herself upright, head high and a still developing "dont fuck with me" aura. Stares unintentionally. has the ADHD postural sway, and bumps into things a lot.

Items in his/her pockets or backpack or purse: Clicky card stim, treats for Crocbait, minipen and notepad, phone, earbuds, ear plugs, some kind of snack. Usually a book to read.

Hobbies: Reading, so much reading, fiction and non fiction. Archery, with the occasional bit of pest hunting back home. Games but just the cosy ones. Crochet. Woodworking.

Favorite sports: Archery, martial arts (tae kwon do and juitsu). Loves HEMA but hasnt had the chance (or money) to try it.

Talents, abilities, or powers: Scary good instinctive archer, pretty decent hunter. Fast reader, strong memory for information, facts and semi eidetic memory (visual memory which helps with her poor working memory). Fantastically calm in a crisis (just brace for the meltdown after).

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): Shy and cautious at first but friendly. Uses humour as a buffer, and presents herself as easy going and calm. You know you're getting close when you start seeing the dryer sarcasm, the grumpy moods and she drops the "just like everyone else" mask that can and has creeped people out. With her trusted people, she lets her neurodivergence fly and is a weird, somewhat temperamental nerd dealing with a lot of guilt, grief, and suicidal ideation.

Fears: Deep running water, car accidents as the passenger, large "trucks/utes". Flooded roads. Meltdowns in public.

Faults: Reactive and temperamental. Her well read, well learned background lends to arrogance and condescension. She's working on both. Overly independent to the point of self harm, and a little too self deprecating.

Good points: Passionate, compassionate and genuinely kind. Strong believer that everyone has their strengths, that smarts is more than academics, and is generally warm, safe and protective of her people. Likes to uplift over tearing down.

What he/she wants more than anything else: Her Dad back. One way or another. The hurt to stop. Throwing a free for all tag but tapping @ryns-ramblings @author-a-holmes ad @spideronthesun to join in if you like.

Template under the cut:

Name:

Nickname:

Kind of being:

Age:

Sex:

Appearance:

Occupation:

Family Members:

Pets:

Best friend:

Describe his/her room:

Way of Speaking:

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): 

Items in his/her pockets or backpack or purse:

Hobbies:

Favorite sports:

Talents, abilities, or powers:

Relationships (how he/she is with other people):

Fears:

Faults:

Good points:

What he/she wants more than anything else:

[fabricdragondesigns]

From twitter

There's been big drama about this technology recently.

Back in 1999, a man named Steve Gass invented a system that sensed flesh and allowed the blade to stop and retract before it could cut into hands and fingers.

This wasn't some gimmick. It actually worked. 40,000 people in the US alone end up in the ER because of table saw injuries. When a human makes contact with a 2lb blade spinning at 5000rpm, the outcome is never a couple of stitches and a bandaid. This is when you go to hospital with your fingers in a zip bag and beg doctors to reattach them. Or when the blade goes between your fingers and bifurcates your hand in two. Nasty catastrophic injuries.

Gass' invention fixed this. The brake worked fast enough to prevent almost all these bad injuries. What could be a major catastrophe turns into a small scratch and a $150 brake and blade replacement.

And it was commercially viable too. The tech worked with any regular metal blade, and the brake mechanism could be made for under $100. The brake was just a consumable item that could be replaced quickly with no tools.

Initially Gass tried to license this technology to all the major saw manufacturers. But they all turned him down. The speculation is that manufacturers couldn't afford to put this on their low end saws because of the added cost of the brake and the need to make the saw sturdy enough to support the energy absorbed from the brake. Some low end saws retail for $150-$300, so even though the brake was cheap, it would have made that product segment unviable. And if manufacturers chose to put the brake only on their higher end models, they were afraid they'd open themselves up for lawsuits if they possessed the safety technology and intentionally omitted it on the cheaper models. So they didn't want anything to do with this.

Then Gass went to the government and lobbied for regulators to compel the use of this technology. But back then there was no appetite for that kind of intervention and Gass got a lot of bad PR for trying to impose this on the public.

So Gass decided to go with the free market approach, and started a company called SawStop which made table saws using this technology. And he proved that a lot of people were willing to pay an extra $200 to save their fingers. Who knew?

In time, the other manufactures lost almost all market share to SawStop for the medium to high end saws. Almost any new saw sold in the US over $800 was a SawStop.

And miraculously, the manufactures had a change of heart! Now they wanted this technology. So a few of them began developing their own versions. Almost none managed to bring anything to market, but at one point Bosch developed a similar technology called Reaxx and started selling these saws in the US. But SawStop sued them for infringing on their patent.

In the end, the court ruled that Bosch couldn't sell these saws in the US, and this ticked consumers off because they said this was further proof that SawStop was more interested in money than safety.

But shortly after SawStop won that lawsuit, they changed their mind. They gave Bosch a free license to use their technology. But Bosch still didn't bring back their Reaxx products. Some say that Bosch never managed to implement a reliable solution and they realized their solution would be compared to SawStop's and it would harm their brand if it didn't work as well.

Fast forward to today, 25 years after Gass invented this system. The political situation is very different, and now it's looking very likely that SawStop technology will be mandated for all new table saws sold in the US.

SawStop still have a patent for this technology until 2033, and if this regulation passes the other manufactures would theoretically have to pay license fees for every saw they sell in the US.

But in a shocking move, SawStop said that if the regulation passes, it will release the patent for free to the public. The US public safety commission, prepared for a fight, was baffled by this news. When the news sunk in, they concluded that at this point there are no more barriers for any other company to match SawStop safety.

This means that SawStop will give their rivals permission to use their technology. It doesn't mean that it will sell the parts to them, but they are not going to sue anyone who tries to make their own version. They are basically giving up their monopoly on this technology.

But the manufactures are still unanimously opposed to this regulation (except SawStop of course). They claim that this will put them out of business and that cheap affordable saws are going to be a thing of the past. The cheapest SawStop table saw costs $899, while most manufactures sell saws under $300. Since they're not selling any high end saws anymore (SawStop took all of their business), the low end is what's making them money at the moment, and now this regulation will force them out of the market completely.

If this regulation passes, we're likely not going to see saws on the market for under $700 anymore. And this will be a real obstacle for people looking to get started in woodworking, carpentry, and other construction trades that need to buy table saws. The regulation will also likely incentivize manufacturers to recall all the old saws, and that would make it hard for consumers to find cheap used saws without this safety feature. (This already happened with Craftsman's radial arm saws in the early 2000s.)

But what about the saved fingers? 400,000 catastrophic injuries and amputations over the next 10 years could be saved if this regulation passes. That seems substantial. This feels like progress. This is what an advanced society does. The end consumer will ultimately pay for it, but would you want the cabinet maker of your next kitchen remodel risk fingers and permanent catastrophic injury just to save a $100 part? Hell no!

[edoro]

thinking a lot lately about the very fun experience of technically being able to work, but not consistently or enough to make a living

recently i took five days off from my (extremely easy, simple, online, wfh) job because i had hit the point of being burned out that thinking about it made me Literally Want To Kill Myself

i spent those days cleaning my house, playing video games, and writing original fiction that i’m going to try to sell, and also doing things like “crying into my salad while i washed the leaves” and “laying on the floor thinking What if I Was Dead Instead” because none of the stressors that made me get to that point were actually gone and in fact taking this time off of working was making a big one (the fact that i live on a very narrow margin of financial safety where i am usually just BARELY able to pay for everything i need) significantly worse

now i have to get back to it and i can already physically FEEL the stress returning, although thankfully the constant mental loop of “what if i just killed myself instead” is mostly gone and i just feel kind of shitty about it

but this is a pattern for me, and it’s a deeply frustrating and demoralizing one. get a job, hope that this time this will be the job i am Able To Consistently Do And Live Off Of, and then from there a few things have tended to happen:

1) i’m actually really good at the job but doing it drives me insane because it hits all of my anxiety and trauma buttons and every working day involves psychologically torturing myself for several hours straight (anything involving phones)

2) i like the job but i suck at it and the knowledge that i suck at it drives me into a despair spiral that ends with me quitting before i get fired

3) i like the job and i’m okay to good at it, but either something external happens (car dying while working as a delivery driver, covid) to force me out of it OR i just hit my burnout point anyway because there is something deeply broken inside of my brain wrt my ability to function as a person in the type of society i currently live in

And Then I Don’t Have A Job Anymore. the longest i’ve managed to keep a job is not quite three years, and then covid happened and i had to choose between continuing to work in retail or keeping myself safe from getting the fucking plague. the specter of “having to go back to working around the general public, none of whom mask anymore, and also no one is really vaccinating anymore either” looms over me constantly.

every time this happens it makes me feel even more like a useless garbage person AND it makes it much harder to get another job, because my employment history is full of three to six month stays at jobs that most people would find incredibly simple and easy, and i have to try to find a way to explain that without saying “i’m insane and probably going to have a mental breakdown under the crushing weight of light clerical duties, but i prommy i’ll do a good job up until i hit that point”

and meanwhile while i AM working, i have absolutely no energy or motivation for anything else. i can’t keep my house clean. i can barely maintain my own hygiene. i can’t write. i can’t engage in any hobby that isn’t passively absorbing information through a screen. AND i can barely make enough money to live on with the number of hours i’m capable of working, so it doesn’t even feel particularly worth it.

anyway. idk. it just sucks. it’s really hard and i’m tired of living like this but the only solutions seem to be “win the lottery” or “stop being disabled” or maybe “find a sugar daddy.”

[verysmolnerd]

Double-shift Drowsiness

Drabble: You're ten minutes from closing and your former professor comes in asking for directions.

I think it’s blatantly obvious that I don’t like working minimum-wage jobs. Hell, my very first fic posted on the internet was because I was treated like shit at a retail store. Now, it’s a little better but that doesn’t mean I’m still not getting the butt end of a stick. This be a vent drable… my bad. 

Cw: Swearing

God fucking dammit. 

You’re here again, for another summer, to take a ludicrous amount of bullshit from your coworkers just to shell in a few more dollars towards your college tuition. 

Normally, the shifts are bearable and you can come home fine, but when you’re there all day sunrise to sunset, it isn’t ideal coming home with so much grease on you. When you shower, you don’t even feel the water on you for a minute because of how much grease had gotten in your skin. 

As for the coworkers part, it’s mainly just one blonde bitch in particular. Specifically, a carhop that’s more entitled than the angry customers here and has the audacity to be a douche to anybody and everybody. When she speaks it always sounds like she cops some sort of attitude when she comes back into the kitchen. 

The only time -as of recently- when she isn’t acting like a punchable brat, is when the general manager of the kitchen staff is around. You had pointed out to them that she was only doing this to be in their good graces, and they agreed; explaining to you that they’ve already talked with her numerous times but she still refuses to listen. You could only hope that one day she’ll get the boot like someone that everyone else in the kitchen even refuses to talk about. 

It always feels like when one problem from the kitchen gets extinguished, three more pop up. With whom that shall not be named is gone, all the kitchen staff are comfortable with talking with each other and making jokes without someone coming in to ruin the mood or harass you. Now, the problem is the one carhop acting like the next cockroach of the damn place and new hires refusing to do work. May you be reminded that you’re only here for the summer and ONLY HERE TO MAKE MONEY FOR THE UPCOMING SCHOOL YEAR.

…

Why do you care so much? It’s just who you are, sadly. 

Now you’re here, still at the restaurant ten minutes to close. You were calmly wiping down the countertops while the general manager had some nostalgic slow songs from the 2000s playing on a Bluetooth speaker that somehow is still working after months of straight abuse and constant use. 

Your other coworkers in the kitchen -you guys just call each other comrades at this point with how tight you are with all the workers that have those strong skills back here- were sweeping and restocking the fridges for the deep fryer or grill. It’s peaceful, well, as peaceful as a food service kitchen could be. 

Everyone was just as tired as you were because it was really late and a long day for those who didn’t work a double shift like you. You needed the hours, what else could you say? Unfortunately, the amount of tiring work doesn’t dawn on you until you’re working over forty hours a week. 

You could see the silhouette of two cars pull in from the packing window, and you sighed. Late stragglers. Somehow, the most desperate people to get to a cheap chain restaurant are also the people who order half of the menu, it infuriates you to no end. 

One car pulled right up in the spot in front go the building, and the other pulled in at a farther spot. You close your eyes and exhale, this is a common thing to happen so you’re not surprised. You are, however, annoyed that everyone in the building is bitching about it. 

What you weren’t expecting, was the person who parked so close to the building to come inside. It’s not like you truly cared anyway, you were just upfront to refill your drink; you haven’t done so in hours and you were beyond parched. 

Your back was to the counter as you waited for the machine to finish pouring your drink, not expecting your name to be called. You turn around, thinking it’s some sort of coworker calling you….

But it was Otto. Your former professor of all people. Dressed in those turtlenecks that hug his figure with dress pants and completing shoes that shine under the restaurant lobby’s lights. 

You lock eyes with him and freeze, both of you staring at each other in shock. “What are you doing here?” You ask him, you’d never thought that you’d see him again…period. “I could say the same about you,” he responded, fumbling with his hands. 

You can feel a few of your coworkers peer through the small window to look at you and the front staff watch the conversations from the blind spots of the counter. You sighed, “This is my hometown. I work here in the summer.” Otto glanced over the counter and noticed the nosy staff, they quickly retreated to the backrooms when they were discovered. 

“I just came to ask for directions since my phone died.” Otto held up the dead device. You nodded, setting your cup down on the counter, “Where are you headed?.. Or where do you think you’re headed?” This isn’t a common thing when people want to go somewhere in this part of the state but end up getting lost, the maps are outdated when you’re this rural, so you’ve had to point a few people the right way. “A retreat where some of my colleagues are, it’s supposed to be more up north..” He paused, you know Otto very well; he hates making mistakes, to be seen as an idiot when he genuinely didn’t know something, “but I think I took a wrong turn- ” he told you the name of the camp with a few descriptors of the place, and you nodded. 

You walked up near the front of the store and picked up a pamphlet, “I think this is the camp you’re talking about,” You handed the advertisement to Otto. He smiled brightly, “Yes it is.” You can see the relief across his face. 

“Good news then. You’ve only got two more hours worth of driving on the main road.” Otto’s face fell, it seemed that the urban convenience he’d had his whole life might’ve been a stunt to his patience. Though you don’t blame him, night driving in the countryside can be quite nerve-wracking.  Deer are the most ruthless to people from the city. 

You let out an airy chuckle, “Is it bound to get dark soon,” You eyed the electronic clock, it displayed the time 9:00 pm, “Are you sure that you want to drive when it’s dark out?” Otto looked like he wanted to say yes, but he stopped himself. 

“You’ll crash at my place tonight.” Otto opened his mouth to protest, but the carhop of your nightmares entered the restaurant and walked right up to him. “Hi! How can I help ya?” You clenched your jaw at the sickly-sweet tone she uses. Otto waved her off, “Ah, no thanks I’m just asking for directions from a friend of mine.” Otto gestured to you with those huge hands of his. You felt yourself heat up with pride, he sees you as more than a student; well, you do have his number…

You can see that the source of your dismay clenched her teeth with a customer service smile before walking away. Otto cleared his throat, “About earlier-“ “Yeah, you can just follow my car home.” You gave him zero room to say no.

“Ah, just a sec,” You walked into the kitchen to see if it was okay, but the team lead already waved you off and said, “Go.” 

Well shit.. alright then..

You grabbed the stuff you brought with you and you clocked out on an outdated machine up front. You waved to Otto to follow you, to the parking lot. You got in your car, and he got into his, and now you’re leading him to your place. 

It wasn’t that far of a drive, the longest part was making a left turn from one of the main roads, there always seemed to be cars there when you wanted to make a turn.

You pulled into your driveway and were now getting your keys out to unlock the front door. You felt the warmth of your previous professor at your back fighting the chilly night air. It was about time that the nights got cooler again, it’s nearly September after all…

You open the front door and hold it for Otto, but he uses his height to keep it open; his hand is high above your head to keep the door open, “No, it’s fine you can go in first.” You thanked him and went inside.

You were in the process of putting your things away in their respective spots when the front door shut behind Otto, he was watching you move around your house with ease; like clockwork. “You keep yourself on quite the schedule.” He watched you move around your kitchen, but then you stopped to look at him after he said that. “Oh, don’t let me stop you.” He moved his hands in a manner to tell you to keep moving. “No, I was just wondering if you’ve already eaten dinner? I can whip something up if you’d like.” You explained yourself, Otto nodded and you swore his face was a bit pink, “I did, thank you for asking, but about staying here-“ You cut him off again, “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t let the person I care about stay here for the night,” You turned to shut off the kitchen lights and show him to your bedroom, but you stopped yourself to relay that information to him, “You can stay in my bedroom, what kind of host would I be if you’re not comfortable?” 

“I was just going to say that I can sleep on the couch,” Otto protested, but you weren’t having it. 

“No, I’ll be fine. I have tomorrow off, you need the rest so you can drive.” “You need the rest so you can have a nice day off.” Otto folded his arms.

“No-“

“Let’s not-“ 

You both cut each other off in the argument..

….

You and Otto are now both dressed down in bed, looking at each other completely flushed and in partial shock from the stubbornness you both share. 

You click off the night, and Otto speaks, “Well, good night.” “Love you.” You automatically responded. You froze and Otto laughed. 

“Love you too.” 

[ymcr]

CONFLICTED

on like wednesday i was 95% committed to giving my notice and then the next day that i was working and had a free moment to talk to my boss i chickened out, thinking i should at least have my next thing lined up before quitting first. and on thursday i had reapplied for my old job, so i was like, "well i'll wait until i hear back from them first."

and THEN...it's days like today that make me grateful for my job. it was pretty slow during open hours considering it's new year's eve, and a bunch of my favorite people were working/volunteering (and my least favorite people were *not* working). i had some laughs with people, and i got a chance to lead my first euthanasia under the guidance of the clinic manager who is super cool, and she said i did a great job. it felt very professional and peaceful, with a healthy amount of levity. it also ended up being a beautiful afternoon and i had some pleasant dog walks (even with the dogs who are a pain in the ass—a good vibe to the day lets me have a sense of humor about those kinds of annoyances).

so days like today make it really hard to reconcile my love for creature caretaking and helping people with my tentative decision to return to retail... i actually got a call from my old boss during open hours this afternoon, and 3 days ago i would have been fully on board, but today i just looked at the voicemail notification with dread that i may be getting that ball rolling again. it's not like i WANT to want to be a store manager again.

i always get like this in january (and usually again in april/may). all of my job changes in recent years have been at the very start of the year or in the spring. i just go crazy. i feel like i'm just ricocheting between a rock and 700 hard places. and that i have been for the past 5 fucking years.

anyway /word vomit end. i'll deal with this in 2024.

[amethyst-noir]

15 questions

I got tagged by @deathdefyinglifeleaps - thank you! 💜

1. are you named after anyone?

My mother says that I'm not but there is a song by a famous singer/songwriter that is named after the English version of my name that she likes a lot. So maybe subconsciously?

2. when was the last time you cried?

I'm tearing up a bit over fics or stuff I watch pretty easily - all out sobbing was probably sometimes last year or the year before because of health stuff. (Not mine.)

3. do you have kids?

No. (I'm sad about that, as well as happy. But more sad, really. It's complicated.)

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

5. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

Clothes. Followed by if they're fucking able to greet (back then when I was in my retail job, aka until 3 weeks ago). Then their faces and what kind of expression they make.

6. what’s your eye colour?

Grey/Green. Used to be Blue/Grey with a hint of green but the green took over in recent years.

7. scary movies or good endings?

Good endings. For the love of everything, please give me a happy ending.

8. any special talents?

I can read and type really fast!

9. where were you born?

In the city next to the one I've lived in my whole life in because that one has the hospital.

10. what are your hobbies?

Sleeping. Reading. Watching stuff. Random scrolling and saving cute fanart. Ocassionally writing some overemotional, overdramatic cuddling.

11. do you have any pets?

I used to have a chinchilla. The last one has been gone for over 12 years by now. My old job would have been unfair to anything but a plush pet (and I have more than enough of those) because I was rarely at home and when I was I was too tired to do anything. Now I would have the time but my apartment is totally not fit for a pet and my energy levels are still very low so I don't have any plans in that direction.

12. what sports do you play/have you played?

I used to do: Skiing, ballett, ice skating, gymnastics, jazz dance, cycling. That was all during elementary school and fizzled out later. By the time I was 16 I was doing nothing more exciting than holding a book and that has continued until today with no signs of that changing.

13. how tall are you?

According to may passport: 1,61m. In reality? I think I used to be 1,62, or maybe a little bit more, but by now I'm 1,60 at the most. Because having standing jobs for about 20 years will shrink you dramatically.

14. favourite subject in school?

History.

15. dream job?

Retirement? I want to be left in peace! I never had a dream job but I always wanted to have an office job and I have finally managed to get that starting this month.

Tagging: @descaladumidera, @lumeha, @myrxellabaratheon, @just-inside-her and @aelaer!

[theboardwalkbody]

Tentatively Titled: Bear With Me Fandom: The Bear Authors Notes: Below the cut is the first half of a chapter for a The Bear fic I had started. I planned on finishing this chapter but I am feeling sick so I can't concentrate but I wanted to have this out there before s2 blows it all out of the water. It is inspired by a tiktok clip of another restaurant-based movie I can't remember the name of at the moment.

Right now it is written as 'You' and not OC but I was considering changing that to flesh them out more instead of needing to keep things vague (I dont feel it sits right to give You-characters any details if they're supposed to be for any and all readers). So yeah - this 'You' has background info and details so thinking about naming them later.

Its also general/no-pairing in this part (again, its only half a chapter) but it is intended to become a fic with a main pairing with Carmy. (Honestly it was supposed to start in the second half of this chapter but I really dont feel good and the screen hurts to look at).

So anyway, enjoy this little snippet - if anyone wants more I'll see what I can do - but s2 may make me abandon idk lol

The Original Beef underwent renovations and re-opened as The Bear. Among the changes instituted by Carmen Berzatto was the addition of a larger dining room which opened up a couple positions for servers. Having decided to go back to college you needed a part-time job in order to be able to keep up with your car payments, online streaming subscriptions, and other pesky things like groceries and rent after having to leave your full-time position due to lack of flexibility. After a month of being denied from over a dozen places you put your application in to this recently renovated restaurant across town expecting to be denied like the others, but to your surprise, you were called back within the day. So you began making the thirty-five minute commute from your place to work four times a week. The work was as expected: wait tables, clean up, help answer phones, take payments; five star customer service. What wasn't expected was the atmosphere.

You've worked customer service and retail for a decade. You thought you had beaten your social anxiety, at least enough to function at work, but it was proving difficult to manage lately. You tried lying to yourself; its just new job jitters, made worse by having been out of the customer service (at least in public) game for a couple years and instead sitting in a small cubicle reading over insurance claims. At least that's what you told them. In reality you were a vocational nurse for the last three years but you felt that if you put that on your resume you would be overlooked and you were too desperate to be without pay until someone would hire you. You knew the truth, however, behind the anxiety. It was the constant exposure to one of your worst triggers: Yelling. Specifically, men yelling. You were on edge constantly. Always wondering when the yelling would start - the kitchen staff often yelled to each other - and dreading the days when you worked the same shift as Richie. The manager was the worst offender, it was as if he only had one volume setting. Even when the yelling wasn't hostile it was still stressful. You would remain hypervigilant and tune in to hear every word from anywhere in the restaurant so you would be prepared if the yelling ever took on a aggressive tone, to be prepared if things ever became violent.

You stayed quiet for the most part. The rest of the staff started calling you "our very own kitchen mouse". That you didn't mind, you honestly thought it was pretty cute. The thing that did bother you, nearly constantly, was your damn stomach. The anxiety causing you to feel nauseous nearly every day. Add in to that feeling tired nearly all the time between classes, having work, and the fact that the anxiety on work nights would not let you sleep at all.

A month of this was taking its toll on you. You weren't sure how much longer you would be able to stay here.

It was a Friday night. It was busier than normal and there seemed to be a constant stream of incidents. A jammed receipt printer causing a customer to become short with you, a customer trying to call in to place a to-go order but the call being dropped multiple times until they eventually gave up but not before calling back one more time to blame the inconvenience on you, a customer knocking their glass off the table and you needing to clean it while not falling behind on your tables. You blamed it on the full moon.

"Order in for Table 4, Chefs," you announced, placing the order ticket in the line of others, and walking back out to check in on your other tables.

Walking back out to the dining room you were suddenly met with calls of 'hey waitress!' and snapping.

You rolled your eyes and groaned internally before turning towards the sound and plastering a smile on your face. Walking over to the table you asked, "Yes, sir, how can I help you?" "This is cold, I need you to take it off my bill," the man said.

You looked down at the plate - a pasta and meat dish that was very obviously nearly finished - and then back at the customer.

"I am sorry to hear that, sir. I can offer you a new plate, but I can not comp the meal. If it was unsatisfactory when you received it you should have let someone know, I can not take the meal off with it having been more than halfway eaten. I apologize," you explained. "What if I didn't eat it?" the man snapped. "I'm sorry, sir?" you weren't following. "I said - What if I didn't eat it? What if I am telling you that I threw the rest of it out and that is just what is left stuck to the plate." he countered. "Again, sir, I apologize but at this point I can not --"

The man began arguing. Obviously unhappy with you not giving in to his demands he started shouting and insulting you. You felt your face get hot with anxiety and your stomach was bad enough you felt like you were about to vomit. You started chewing on the inside of your cheek and your eyes stung as he called you names and belittled you. You were glued to the spot unable to muster up the courage to turn and walk away, worried it would make matters worse. The last straw was the man reaching across the table, grabbing your hand, and placing it in his dish of partially eaten food.

"Doesn't that feel cold to you? You incompetent bitch?" he yelled at you.

Trembling you pulled your hand out of the food and grabbed the dish. You picked it up and with a cracked voice replied, "sorry, sir, I'll take care of it," before turning and walking the dish back to the kitchen.

The tears stung your eyes and you tried not to blink, knowing if you did they would fall. You tried to remain professional. You were so lost in your own anxious thoughts that it was almost as if you could hear nothing as you walked to the kitchen.

'Your fault, your fault, your fault,' circled around in your head drowning out everything else.

You pushed the doors open and placed the dish down near the sink. You couldn't comp the meal, despite anything you said to the man to placate him. You figured you would pay for it yourself that way he would stop yelling and you wouldn't have to involve Carmen, who was currently acting as head chef and manager since Richie was running late. Something you had been grateful for up until now.

You were about to make your way to the restroom to wash the pasta sauce off your hands and wipe your eyes, thinking no one even noticed you come in to the kitchen at all, when you heard Carmen's voice call out,

"Why is she crying?"

You were pretty sure you were going to pass out. All eyes turned towards you now.

Manny was closest to you and now that he was paying attention he noticed how red and watery your eyes were and asked, "you okay, Mouse?" He caught a glimpse of the red sauce on your hand and mistook it for blood as he suddenly called out, "She's bleeding! Grab the first aid kit its bad!"

'Fuck,' you cursed in your head. The tears started flowing now. Being asked if you were okay was the surefire way to get the dam to burst no matter how hard you tried to keep it up.

"No! Not! I'm fine," you said, but your voice sounded anything but fine. "It's not blood!"

"What happened, mama?" Tina asked leaving her station to approach you. Her voice was sweet and caring, she gingerly took your red soaked hand in hers.

You stepped back and insisted, "It's just sauce. It's nothing, really, everything's OK, I just need a second." With that you turned to leave and pretend you were going to use the restroom but instead you wiped your hand on your dark jeans and snuck out of the restaurant and around the back to sneak back into the far end of the kitchen and sit in the freezer. The cold would help take away the burning feeling you felt and calm you down - something you learned during your several month position at a grocery store deli.

You ducked into the freezer and sat on a crate in the corner full of yet-to-be-unpacked food. You just needed a minute, you told yourself, then you would be back up and get back out there. You focused on taking deep breaths and wiped your eyes.

The freezer door opened after a few moments and you cursed yourself for hiding in here. You had no excuse for why you would need to be in here and evidently you took too long, you should have left already. You looked up and saw Carmen walk in and look around until he found what he was looking for - you. He walked up to you and crouched down across from you.

"What happened?" he asked, you could see his breath as he spoke. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep off some of the cold. "I'm sorry, I just needed a second to cool down," you answered, your own breath dancing in the cold air. "That's fine, you can take as long as you need, just please tell me what's wrong," he assured. "It's so stupid," you admitted, but it made you start crying harder.

Carmen stayed quiet a moment, letting you catch your breath, but his silence allowed you to open up and explain what had happened. When you finished your retelling of the situation he stood, extended his hand which you accepted, and slowly guided you out of the freezer. Without a word he began to lead you out to the dining room as you wiped your face to dry it of the tears.

Crossing back through the kitchen you and him caught the attention of the rest of the crew. As you passed the front door Richie happened to walk in, finally making his appearance.

"Yo, Cuz, what's happening?" he asked, his voice already above casual speaking volume. Carmen ignored him and kept leading you.

Stopping at the edge of the dining room he dropped your hand. "Who?" he asked. "Please, forget it, Chef, I took care of it." you insisted. "Who?" he repeated. You could tell by the tone of his voice he wasn't in the mood to ask again so you pointed to the customer in question.

You watched as Carmen approached the customer who berated you. He pulled a chair over from the next table over and sat at the table where the aggressive customer was sitting with a group of other men, and began talking to him. You couldn't hear their conversation over the noise of a full dining room but you could tell that neither of the men were enjoying their conversation. Noticing the scene unfolding many other customers stopped in their conversations and turned their attention towards Carmen and the other man. The volume in the room dying down enough that you could now make out what was being said by Carmen. He stood now, and his voice raised to assert himself.

"Apologize to her." he said. The man at the table laughed heartily. "No, I have nothing to apologize for."

Carmen, unsatisfied with the man's response, gathered up the tablecloth until all the dishes and drinks were bundled up in a pile of cloth in the center of the table. "You can see yourself out." "Who do you think you are?" the man shouted, "go get me your manager." "I'm the fucking owner. Get out." Carmen asserted.

The man huffed but at the encouragement of his bewildered companions he rose, grabbed his suit jacket, and left. The dining room erupted in applause. Carmen turned back to look at you, and you, embarrassed but also very impressed by his actions, turned away from him. You saw Richie behind you, having watched the scene play out, and you could see the crew peaking their heads out from the kitchen as well. Carmen came up to you and said, "can you meet me in the office?"

Doing as he asked you walked away. You just barely caught him barking orders at the others, Richie to cover your tables, Sydney to take charge for a bit, and the others to get back to their stations.

[successmaterials]

Advantages of Battery Forklifts in Modern Warehouse Management

The modernizing industrial world always requires efficiency and sustainability. Among all the recent innovations in the segment, a battery forklift is one device which effectively fulfills these requirements. Such electric-driven forklifts are increasingly preferred in warehouses and distribution houses lately, as they provide many advantages over traditional internal combustion forklifts.

1. Ecological BENEFITS

Battery forklifts are cleaner alternatives compared to gas- or diesel-powered machines. When operating, they offer zero emissions, making them excellent machines to be applied in indoor environments where air quality is at question. A more substantial increase in regulations and considerations around emission as well as an increased focus on 'green' operational options will make switching to battery forklifts a huge boost to a company's green image .

2. Lower Operating Costs

Although the initial cost may be higher for battery forklifts than with the traditional models, savings over time are tremendous. Battery forklifts have fewer parts that move compared to other forklifts. This makes running costs lower as well because they are not dependent on fuel. Electric power tends to be cheaper as well, especially in operations with heavy usage.

3. Improved Performance

Battery forklifts provide consistent power and torque with smooth operation that is efficient with minimal strain on the driver. Again, since battery forklifts don't lose power due to depletion of fuel supplies, they continue performing until the battery is almost depleted; this will always be very vital in busy environments where every minute counts.

4. Quiet Operation

Another feature that stands out for battery forklifts is quiet operation. That means they are suitable for indoor use, especially in those settings where noise reduction is of significant importance, like in retail spaces or facilities near residential areas. It also makes them a safer work environment as adequate communication among staff is achieved.

There are several models of battery forklifts with regard to low-lift, high-lift, and other applications, accommodating different loads and lift heights. Such flexibility allows different companies to choose the right machine to do their individual job, be it from the wholesale warehouse to the manufacturing plant in handling materials, moving pallets.

Many battery forklifts have interchangeable batteries making it possible for extended hours of operation and easy change of batteries.

Conclusion

A battery forklift can really help improve your operational efficiency, decrease expenditure, and create a greener workplace. As businesses become more conscious of sustainability and operational excellence, forklifts are one of the smart choices to fit modern warehousing and logistics needs. Given all the benefits that it can offer, such equipment is sure to be in high demand to support material handling in the succeeding years.

[sadpeaflower]

Ever Changing

Lately in my life, I have experienced a major shift.

December 19, 2020, while working at my regular retail sales job, a man came in and almost unalived me from this world over something absolutely stupid. I cannot say what because I still work at this job, but it did enough damage that on December 31, 2020, my right arm went completely numb. Numb in a way that I can only describe as from the inside. I could still feel a pinch, but inside felt numb. It was the most insane feeling. I left work and went to a convenient care to see what was wrong. They sent me home with some muscle relaxers and said to just chill out.

I had spent most of my life with anxiety and bipolar disorder, so yes, I did believe I just needed to relax.

It was so much more than that.

On January 18, 2021, I found my doctor, the most amazing woman in the world. We tried many things before we finally decided to put me on medication. On the same day, she prescribed it to me, I got a massage as she suggested (PT did not work, so this was her last hope as she suspected something with my muscles), I had a panic attack in the last 5 minutes, but afterward, I felt my arm. For just an hour, but I felt it.

Sidenote: Throughout this experience, I also had a wonderful manager. He used to work in a psych ward and knew how to handle anxiety pretty well. I had many many panic attacks at work and he would walk me around outside and tell me stories about the "hood" to try and distract me. He was a great man and I will forever be thankful for him.

Anyways, on April 12, 2021, I took my first mood stabilizer pill. I am extremely sensitive to medications and I was on this medication (Lamictal) in high school. It worked very well and had no side effects for me so we decided to put me back on it. I took it at my best friend's house. After all, I had a panic attack before taking it because I was afraid to take it because what if I die, blah blah blah, so I just wanted someone around. Thirty minutes after I took that pill I could feel my arm and I didn't feel like the world was out to get me. This was the first time I ever felt like a medication worked.

These past few years, since that day, have been absolutely insane. I am afraid of everything. Even though I am not having panic attacks about it, I just won't try anything. If I try a new food, I think I am going to die. If I try a new activity, I think I am going to die. Etcetera. I have developed severe health anxiety and I literally cannot keep anything to myself.

...until recently.

It is August of 2024 and this summer I have learned how to swim again, started reading again, started writing again, and going to the pool, I swam in a lake (big deal), I have been standing up for myself, learning new things, taking school seriously, and finally figuring out one thing I want for my future. This all started about 3 weeks ago and I have no idea who this new woman is but I love her.

She is sticking up for us, becoming knowledgeable, having fun, getting excited, enjoying the outdoors, and prioritizing herself. I didn't do anything specifically to get here, I think I was just done being afraid. But instead of finishing what the guy in 2020 wanted to do, I just said fuck it. Why not live my fucking life? It's mine after all. Not his, not my boss's, not my mom's, not a customer's, not my boyfriend's, it's fucking mine.

Why was I ever so against having this life? Why did I want to sit in self pity and be sad and scared and lonely and useless? This is amazing. I have never felt so free and full. Things are changing and I have opened my doors to change. I have gone through enough. It is time to have fun, kick back, and relax. I deserve it.

And reader...so do you ♡

I'll keep you all updated.