#automated email chains. I remember vaguely learning how to do them

[ace-malarky]

I know I normally joke that something always implodes when my boss goes off on leave but it

it's a joke guys

RA was broken last week and apparently that wasn't enough bc now everyone thinks their reservations are here at SH and they're making that my problem

and frankly? It's fucken WH. bane of my life. Clarify your emails my dudes! Check your app data!

[deathbyvalentine]

“THIS IS WHAT I’M REDUCED TO.” - A Death Unto Darkness Coffee Shop AU, Chapter One

The hot coffee splashed up their arm and they recoiled, violently, letting the mug slip to the floor and shatter. The noise hurt them more than the burnt skin, knowing it would carry up the stairs to the manager’s office, and they’d be called in. Again. The dream shifted, and they were on the balance beam, hearing a dull snap from across the arena - 

The alarm was no less jarring for how often it was heard. Cal opened a single eye and groaned, feeling on the bedside table to switch it off with a fair amount of unneeded violence. For a few long, long moments, they just lay there. As they stared at the ceiling, feeling their heart already racing, their skin in a cold sweat. The inside of their mouth was bleeding from where they’d bitten it in their sleep. The new job was already doing a number on them and they hadn’t even started it yet.

They sat up with a great deal of effort, running a hand through the birds nest that was their hair. Moving to the mirror, their hands hung uselessly at their sides. Somehow, they had to look presentable, and they had no idea how to achieve that. The best they could hope for was a loose company policy on hair-dye. In the rushed email they had been sent, there had been no dress code.

Looking healthy was out of the question, as was looking relaxed. But they could do clean. They could do neat. Within half an hour they were if not pleased with how they looked, they were satisfied. Only the tips of their fingers and their neck/face were uncovered, and so their fidgeting managed to still. Something like armour. Something like a mask. 

The morning was brisk, the type of weather that sunk down to your bones. Not Cal’s natural clime, but they found a strange sort of beauty in the way their breath curled in the frigid air like the smoke of some great dragon. They were still learning this new country, but they didn’t hate it. It had the allure of the new. They glanced down at their phone to check the directions one more time, though they had almost memorised it by now.��‘The Lord’s Coffee’. What an odd name.

*

One more deep breath. They looked at the shop front again, unable to see inside due to the fogged up windows. The sign was beautiful, if somehow old fashioned. Gold script on a deep, (slightly flaking) rich red. It could have been the sign for an apothecary or a book shop or an opium den if not for the word coffee. They reached out and pushed the door open, hearing a delicate tinkle from an overhead bell.

Inside was... Something like chaos. A flurry of activity, steam rising from tea cups, old jazz crackling over the store radio. Everything was dark wood and velvet, any metal showing was brass and brazen. It seemed to be attempting a vintage look, but couldn’t quite decide on what decade. Cal stood by the door, slightly stunned for a moment, taking it all in. At the counter, a young man looked up from a notebook where he was scrawling numbers, his face breaking into an eager smile. He hurried over, putting out a hand to shake. “Mx. Callum Gearwright, correct? You’re five minutes early. Excellent. I admire punctuality.” Cal nodded at his hand, their own staying firmly on the strap of their bag. He withdrew it, apparently not in the slightest deterred. “I am your manager, Stephen White, though my friends call me Chalkie. I do hope we can be friends.” Cal just about managed a smile, though his friendliness took them back. This was clearly not the cold corporate management they were used to. Their teeth found the familiar groove in their lip, hand clenching even tighter around their bag. “Right then. Let’s show you around.”

It was a split level affair, something that made Cal wince for the future fate of their knees. Upstairs there were large windows that looked onto the cobbled street and tables who wore their age on their sleeve. The winter sunlight illuminated it, covering it in frosty light, but later in the evening there would be low hanging ceiling lights. There was a dumbwaiter tucked in a corner, much to Cal’s relief. They wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over their own feet with hot drinks. Again. 

Stephen knocked on the frosted glass of the office door with the back of his knuckles, barely waiting a moment before opening it and stepping inside, gesturing for Cal to follow. Inside, a woman tapped on her laptop, fingers a blur over the keys. The modernity of the laptop was the first thing Cal noticed. The second thing was the bright scarlet of her lipstick. The third was the orange of her tightly coiled hair. She was striking. For a moment, she didn’t seem to notice them come in. Then, she glanced up, eyes resting on Cal before raising a quizzical eyebrow at Stephen.

“George.” “And who’s this?” “New hire, remember? A Mx Callum Gearwright, came with recommendations.”  “Oh, from that dreadful chain?” She stood up and shook Cal’s hand with her similarly gloved one. “Well, I do hope they can keep up. We’re rushed off our damn feet.”  Cal felt their cheeks colour a little. Something about them must have been found lacking. It was hardly surprising, as they were somewhat lacking. The rest of the day was something of a blur. The machines were outdated and hissed and spluttered out hot water at a moments notice. There were only three types of coffee on the menu, but there were twenty types of tea to memorise, all with different brewing times and serving suggestions. The till needed to be individually rung up, nothing automated. Cal didn’t mess up, not exactly, but they couldn’t help but feel like they were clinging on by the skin of their teeth. In their old work, they were suffocated under management and oversight, their place clearly spelt out and any over stepping punished with alarming speed. Here, there was the opposite problem. Cal found themselves flicking through an old, stained employee handbook, looking desperately for some actual description of all their duties. They found none. 

There were perks however. Nobody yelled (well, not at them, at least). Tea and cake was free to employees. There was a steady stream of people coming in and out, all of them eccentric. Cal could take a breath, leaning against the counter and just watch them, picking up on their accents, clothes, stories. Several regulars treated them with suspicion, but Stephen assured them that if it ever crossed the line into outright hostility they would be swiftly ‘dealt with’.

“They’re not bad people, you understand.” He began, earnestly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “They’re just, well, set in their ways. And you’re new.” Cal could understand that. In small towns, nobody liked an outsider.

*

The evening had closed in by the time their shift was over. They were coated with a light sheen of sweat from mopping the kitchen floors, clearing them of flour and tea. They hadn’t done this much physical work since well, they were a kid. Stephen had already gone home, but George had remained. Apparently she always locked up herself, not trusting anyone else to do it. She lived beside the shop, in an apartment that was expensive but not exactly roomy. All of this Cal had discovered from listening to the gossip and chatter of the other workers. They themselves tried to keep quiet. They had a stupendous knack for saying exactly the wrong thing, so they preferred to say nothing at all. 

The wind had turned cruel when they stepped outside, flipping the open sign to closed. The sweat instantly cooled, sending shivers across their skin. They paused a moment, taking a deep breath of the bracing air and watching the moths dance around a streetlight.

Something caught their eye. Across the empty street was an deserted shop front. By the looks of it, it had been empty for some time, the dust so thick as to be impossible to see past. A ‘For Sale’ sign hung in the window, faded from being exposed to sunlight for so long. It was a shame really, it was small but the glass front looked pretty. Cal wondered vaguely what was wrong with it, almost forgetting why they were gazing at it in the first place.

Then it happened again, right towards the back. A small flicker of light. Like a torch or a phone. Cal squinted, but being partially sighted at the best of times meant that their investigation was futile. They decided to watch for a few minutes longer but the light didn’t reappear, and the cold had gotten to their bones. They decided to go home.