#belt conveyor for sale

[hudsolutions]

Streamlining Transport: Iron Ore Conveyor Systems in Industrial Operations

In the realm of industrial operations, the efficient transport of materials is paramount. Iron ore, a crucial raw material in various industries such as steel manufacturing and construction, requires reliable and efficient transportation methods to move it from mines to processing facilities and eventually to end-users. Among the arsenal of transport solutions, conveyor systems have emerged as indispensable assets, offering unparalleled efficiency and reliability in handling iron ore. Let's explore how iron ore conveyor systems streamline transport and enhance productivity in industrial operations.

Efficient Material Handling:

Iron ore conveyor systems play a pivotal role in material handling, facilitating the seamless movement of bulk materials from one location to another. These conveyor systems utilize belts or chains to transport iron ore efficiently over long distances, minimizing manual labor and maximizing throughput. By eliminating the need for multiple handling steps and reducing the risk of spillage or contamination, conveyor systems optimize material handling processes, enhancing overall efficiency in industrial operations.

Reliable Performance:

Conveyor systems designed for transporting iron ore are engineered for reliability and durability, ensuring consistent performance even in harsh operating environments. These systems are equipped with robust components such as heavy-duty belts, rugged rollers, and sturdy frames, capable of withstanding the abrasive nature of iron ore and the rigors of continuous operation. With minimal maintenance requirements and long service life, iron ore conveyor systems provide reliable and uninterrupted transport, minimizing downtime and maximizing productivity in industrial settings.

Versatility and Adaptability:

Iron ore conveyor systems offer versatility and adaptability to meet the specific needs and requirements of diverse industrial applications. Whether transporting raw iron ore from mines to processing plants or transferring processed materials between production stages, conveyor systems can be customized to accommodate varying loads, inclines, and distances. With adjustable speed controls and automated monitoring systems, conveyor systems provide flexibility and precision in material transport, ensuring optimal performance across different operating conditions.

Safety and Environmental Benefits:

Conveyor systems contribute to a safer working environment by reducing the risk of accidents and injuries associated with manual material handling and heavy machinery operations. By automating the transport of iron ore, conveyor systems minimize worker exposure to hazardous conditions and mitigate the potential for workplace accidents. Additionally, conveyor systems offer environmental benefits by reducing energy consumption, emissions, and noise pollution compared to traditional transport methods such as trucks or trains, aligning with sustainability initiatives and regulatory requirements.

For More: Contact:0488 199 079 Email: tom@hudsolutions.com.au Timings: Mon-Fri: 8:30am–5pm Visit us: https://www.hudsolutions.com.au/

[shreebhardwajsales]

Infographic about HVAC tape

Shree Bhardwaj Sales Corporation | Best HVAC tape in Panipat

Address: Heritage Garden Road, Vill. Shimla Molana, Grand Trunk Rd, opp. Babarpur Mandi, Babarpur, Panipat, Haryana 132103

Contact us at: 08950610000

Website: https://shreebhardwajsalescorporation.com/

[prakashengineeringandgearco]

A conveyor belt is a crucial part of any material handling system, and it's important to choose the right one for your needs. You need to know your business requirements and your product so that conveyor belt manufacturer will help you find the best conveyor belt.

[kaciidubs]

Catnip and Kidnappings

Hi, 🧿 nonnie! This one's been a long time coming, and though it doesn't have much smut, I hope you still enjoy it! ❣ Summary: You just needed to go to the pet store for two things - so why were you suddenly in a car with a man you didn't know? ❣  ❣ Word Count: 2.5k+ ❣ Warnings: Mafia! AU, fluff, meet cute, implied danger, slight humor, cat talk, reader is a bit sassy but so is Minho ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Two things. You just needed two things from the pet store, then you would be back home with your lovely tabby cat and show you’d been putting off for the better half of two weeks because it just ‘wasn’t the right time’.

So how, you ask, did you manage to find yourself hurriedly escorted away from the storefront of the pet store by a man you’d just met?

Well, you could target the beginning of the end the moment you stepped foot into the pet store, making your way to the cat aisle on instinct with your goal clear in your mind; catnip and premium cat food.

Premium cat food - you wished you could trick your furry child into eating a cheaper form of food, but his picky eater tendencies had set him in his ways ever since your mother decided to spoil him and introduce him to the world of Sheba pate and cuts of various meat and fish flavors; the same woman who claimed she didn’t like cats, yet bought him almost all of his toys.

Huffing out a quiet laugh at her change of heart, you bent to grab a box of the food packs, silently thanking the corporate gods that it was still on sale, before heading deeper into the aisle to grab the second item on your mental list.

You scanned the rack with the box still in your arms, adjusting it slightly every now and then until your eyes landed on the empty spot that usually had the brand of catnip you needed.

“Wonderful…”

“If you’re looking for catnip like that brand, you could go with the one with the red label - they look different because of the companies, but they’re really the same ingredient wise.”

“Oh, really? Thank-” The next word immediately died on your tongue as you turned your head, ready to thank a store worker but, instead, you were met with possibly the handsomest man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Sharp eyes and a nose that looked like it belonged on a marble sculpture, paired with lips set in a faint frown and the prettiest jawline you’ve ever seen - he was gorgeous.

He seemed to either not notice your brain freeze or blissfully ignore it as he stepped closer to pick up the container before placing it on top of the cat food box in your arms.

“I have three cats and they all like both brands, there isn’t really a difference besides the fact that you don’t have to use as much of this one as the other one, which makes it better considering the price.”

Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your brain kick back into gear, “O-Oh, okay, thank you so much!”

He hummed out a small sound of acknowledgement, giving you a curt nod and reaching forward to grab a container of his own; his eyes scanning across the small printed words for a moment before he looked to you once more. “Do you need help? Carrying that, I mean.”

“This? No, no, I’ve got it handled.” You adjusted the box once more, the catnip container sliding to the right until you balanced it out quickly, “All good, thanks again, though.”

Before you could embarrass yourself more than you already had, you thanked him once more and shuffled past him and out of the small aisle in record time, mentally cursing whatever line of fate led you down this path.

Placing your items on the conveyor belt, the cashier greeted you as they scanned your items and you typed in your rewards card onto the card reader’s keypad.

“Are you getting this, too?”

“What?” Looking up, you stared at the catnip in their hand with confusion creasing your brow.

“Um-”

“Yes, we are.”

The familiar voice made a chill run down your spine, your head whipping to see the same man from before, the faintest of curves to his otherwise neutral expression alleviating his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Shrugging lightly, the cashier proceeded to scan the second container before announcing the total.

Pressing his black card to the one-tap reader, he seamlessly slid it back into his wallet before stuffing it back into his pocket, “Think of it as a little gift for your cat, they deserve to be treated.”

For being stunned for the second time that day, your recovery was just as fast, “I’ll make sure to let him know a kind stranger cares about his picky habits.”

He huffed out a quiet chuckle, but that was more than enough to inflate your ego and make your heart flutter, quickly taking back your previous curse to thank fate instead.

After grabbing your bag of items, you made your way out of the store with your new companion following suit.

“So… Was that really just a gift for my cat? You don’t have any ulterior motives, do you?” You mused, turning to look at him fully as you stood outside of the storefront.

Shaking his head, he raised his hands in defense, “It’s just a gift - like I said, I have three cats so I know how it can get, better than most. Besides, the picky eater phase is really rough on the pockets at the worst of times.”

“Well, Miso appreciates your generosity.”

“Miso… cute.” He hummed softly, though his true excitement was evident in the small glimmer in his eyes.

“Do I have the honor of knowing your name?” Clocking the possible unintended implication of the question, you quickly backtracked, “Um- Just so Miso knows who he can thank while eating his pate salmon, of course.”

His lips parted to speak but closed twice as fast, his once relaxed smile turning into a firm line as he looked at you - almost enough to look through you, or rather, past you.

As you went to turn your head to gauge for yourself, you were stopped by the warmth of his hand around your wrist, winning your attention for himself like jingling keys in front of a baby.

“Let me bring you home, and I’ll tell you on the way.”

You felt your heart flutter, though you couldn’t ignore the unease creeping up your spine, “I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to-”

“I just want to make sure you make it home safely.” His mouth pressed into a tight lipped smile and his grip tightened ever so slightly, “Trust me.”

Maybe it was the fact that he sounded so sincere, aligning with the image of the kind man you’d seen in the pet shop, or perhaps it was the way his firm gaze flickered with a hint of urgency, but you found yourself nodding softly.

“Okay.”

With that, you were tugged down the sidewalk and around the corner, hurried footsteps falling alongside his long strides in hopes of keeping up.

“Is- Is there something wrong? What’s happening?”

“Everything’s fine.”

You bristled at his nonchalant, clipped tone, falling back on your pace by half a step. “I have a feeling you weren’t lying to me before, so, please, don’t start lying to me now.”

Feeling your resistance, he took a short breath and spoke, “Nothing’s wrong yet, and nothing is happening - I’d rather keep it that way, if you don’t mind.”

“But what did you see?”

“Someone who has no business trying to approach me in public unless they’re looking to start something they have no chance of finishing. I have no desire in getting innocent people caught up in those types of affairs.”

“Those types?” Your eyes widened as you neared a black car - slim, sleek, and a model that you had no chance of owning for yourself on your current pay grade. “Are you-”

“I’m no one.” He shut you down with ease before reaching forward to open the passenger’s side door, “Get in.”

Putting a temporary pin in your conversation, you quickly slid into the car, the faint scent of jasmine mixing with the musk of sandalwood and leather seats filling your nose; watching through the windshield as the black haired man rounded the car before sliding into the driver's seat.

“I don’t think a nobody just casually owns a car like this,” clicking your seatbelt into place and setting your bag on the floor, you shot him a wary glance, “if you’re going to kidnap me, Miso’s going to be royally pissed.”

The car’s engine roared to life, masking his light chuckle but doing next to nothing in hiding the slight uptick of his lips. “I’m not a kidnapper, though I’ll make an exception if Miso’s as cute as you make him out to be.”

With that, he shifted the gear and drove out of the parking lot, using the one-way street to get away from the pet store and the unknown assailant. Buildings and cars passed by in a blur after you told him your address, your hands nonchalantly turning your phone while the silence was placated with the sound of the engine and the radio - though, you had no hope of hearing what the song was from how low the volume was.

Taking a deep breath, you turned toward him, eyes tracing over his unfairly handsome side profile. “So… Is this the part where you tell me who you are?”

“I told you, I’m no one,” he hummed simply, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And I told you I don’t like liars - you still owe me your name, you remember that, right? Now, since you’re saving me from some unknown evil, you owe me a full introduction.”

He glanced over at you, amused astonishment filling his face, “For someone who’s in the hands of a complete stranger, you make a lot of demands.”

“Think of it as your atonement for giving me two new life experiences in one when I was minding my own business buying catnip.”

You could just barely catch him rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath and hearing the words ‘worse’ and ‘friends’.

“Minho.”

“Minho?”

Minho rocked his head to the side, huffing, “My name is Lee Minho, I have three cats - Soonie, Doongie, and Dori - and I’m a businessman. I like going to that pet store because they donate some of their profit to shelters, and I know about the catnip brands because I have three cats - changing brands is a nightmare whether it’s one cat or several.”

A small smile found its way to your lips at the new information, your mind running wild at the image of this enigma of a man playing with three cats of his own. “Okay… But, when you say businessman, what type of business do you do?”

“The type that prefers to go unmentioned to civilians for their safety.”

“What- Like working for some secret branch of the government? Are you a cult leader? A member of the mafia?” An incredulous giggle bubbled past your lips, though when his demeanor grew colder, your stomach dropped. “You’re… You’re not, right?”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, granting him the grace to look at you, brown eyes locking to yours with a firm stare. “You never told me your name. If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my job - it’s your repentance for asking me more questions past my introduction. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t, but I won’t tell you my job.”

Your name for his profession, your safety in exchange for his safety - it was only fair, truly.

Taking a deep breath, your name fell from your lips with a small air of confidence, “You already know about my cat, and my job pays just enough to support his picky eating habits. I like that pet store because they hosted an adoption event that brought Miso into my life, and I’ve been supporting them ever since.”

He made a sound of confirmation before turning his attention back to the road, pressing the gas as the light turned green and continued the journey to your apartment.

His choice of silence was almost enough to have your conscience second guessing your decision, until you noted the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel; twitching, anxious, compared to the streamlined, firm grip he’d showcased at the beginning of the drive.

Eventually your apartment building came into view, the car slowing to a stop once he reached the front door.

“Well…” Lingering for a moment longer, you looked at him in hopes of seeing him turn to you one final time to honor his end of the agreement, but when he remained staring at the road ahead, you let it go. “I guess this is goodbye - thank you for what you’ve done for me, Lee Minho, I appreciate it.”

As you went to unbuckle your seatbelt, his hand wrapped around your wrist, his touch sending a chill down your spine and stealing your attention just like he did outside of the pet shop.

“I’m part of the mafia,” Minho spoke plainly, his tone emotionless, statement oriented, “the person I saw earlier was someone we’ve done business with before, some low life’s henchman most likely sent to get even, that’s why I wanted to get away like I did. I didn’t want our chance encounter to end with you getting hurt - you did nothing wrong, and I wanted to make sure you would be safe.”

The mafia… You weren’t sure if him being a cult leader would’ve been better or worse than this, but staring into his eyes, you could feel it wasn’t a joke, nor an elaborate cover up.

“What I said before, about not mentioning what I do for the safety of others… I swear to you that you’ll be safe after this - I’ll make it my personal job of making sure nothing happens to you because of this, okay? No lingering ties or deals to be made, you’ll be under our watch until we take care of that stunt they tried to pull.”

His promise eased the first stretch of fear growing within you, though the rest would have to be handled once you had the proper time to process your less than normal morning.

Nodding, you slipped your wrist from his grasp and grabbed your bag, turning to get out of the car until you froze.

“If you’re worried, you don’t have to-”

You leaned across the center console and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a sign of gratitude, “Thank you, Minho.”

Reaching into your bag, you placed his container of catnip in his hand then quickly left the car - making your way up the flight of stairs to the lobby’s doors,only to turn around to see him patiently waiting for your entrance before slipping your way past the glass doors.

On the elevator ride up to your apartment, you couldn’t help it as your thoughts ran through the events like a film reel, though you weren’t sure if it was to get over the shock of reality, or to commit the image of that man to your memory.

Lee Minho, cat owner and catnip expert.

Lee Minho, morally gray mafia member.

Lee Minho, a man you hoped you would see in the pet store again.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: Tagged lovelies will now be done within the comments of the post due to Tumblr's tagging system being broken, thank you for understanding.

@luminouskalopsia, @zaethefangirl, @chxnb97, @sometimesleeknows, @hyunjinloverrrr, @rhonnie23, @channieswife, @beautyinhypnosis

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[ceilidho]

prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 1.

-

“—are priced wrong. You need to fix that.”

“Hmm? Sorry?” you ask, mind snapping out of whatever fog it’d descended into upon seeing John Price’s truck pull up out front of the grocer. You blink a couple times before focusing on the older lady lined up at your till, her face pinched with displeasure. It deepens when she realizes that you haven’t been paying a lick of attention to whatever she’d just spent the better half of a minute complaining about. 

“The beefsteak tomatoes are priced wrong. They’re supposed to be two dollars a pound—it’s in the catalogue.”

Before you can so much assure her that you’ll certainly honour the advertised price and save yourself the headache, she’s already opening up her purse to pull out the crinkled grocery catalogue, unfolding it across your conveyor belt; it goes out in the local paper once a week with all the sales and rippable coupons, and this isn’t the first time you’ve had someone try to lecture you about discrepant prices (Kate, your manager, is a sweet, gungho lady, that often sends off discount confirmations to the editorial staff of the local paper without informing anyone that actually works in the shop day-to-day). 

From the corner of your eye, you see John slam the door shut on his truck and make his way towards the shop, hands shoved into his pockets. Even from a ways away, the sight of him makes your cheeks redden; his beard’s gotten fuller in the week since you last saw him, clad in even more layers of flannel and tweed now with the fast approach of winter. He looks properly ready for the winter months, with just an air of heaviness present in the lines on his forehead and the tilt of his head. 

You feel your lips slip down into a frown. Helpless, you can only watch in defeat as John lumbers into the grocery store, brushing his hand over his hat to shake off the snowflakes onto the mat by the automatic doors. He picks up one of the baskets by the front door before heading down one of the aisles. His eyes don’t flicker to meet yours so much as once. 

Your shoulders slump when he ducks out of sight before you focus your attention back on the woman in front of you. She’s pointing out the tomato print with the little two dollar sign in the advertisement with a stiff finger, eyebrow cocked like she’s pulled one over on you. You really can’t imagine there being anything less important to you than the price of beefsteak tomatoes, never mind having to refund someone a whole dollar because you inadvertently overcharged them and you happened to get stuck with the one customer that would spend a full thirty seconds reviewing their bill before leaving the shop. 

“See?” she says, the word coming out sibilant and stressed. You blink.

Turning back to the till, you click a couple buttons before the register pops back out again and you pluck up a dollar to hand back to your customer. On the receipt that’s printed out, you hastily scrawl the reason for the refund and shove the seller's copy back into the till. The woman stares at the dollar now sitting on the belt in front of her.

“Of course, ma’am,” you say, a robotic smile stretching across your face. “Apologies for the inconvenience. I’ll get someone to reprice the tomatoes so this doesn’t happen again.”

She doesn’t say anything when she snatches up the dollar along with her groceries and hobbles out the front door, the automatic doors swooshing behind her. With her finally gone, you close your eyes for a second, a private moment just to yourself.

Someone clears their throat from just off to the side. Your heart bursts into a frantic pitter-patter when you open your eyes to find John waiting patiently at the end of your till, his basket filled up with bottles of mustard, gherkins, and other preserves. 

“A paper bag, please,” he says in a gruff voice, like he tousled with sleep just a few minutes ago. It makes your head spin. 

You nod, hardly able to even respond.

Up close, he smells like firewood and smoke, the ever-present cigar usually hanging off his lip nowhere to be seen but still clinging to his jacket and flannel beneath it. The mutton chops of his beard have grown out more than the rest, but his jaw is covered in a layer of fur in comparison to the week previous. John doesn’t really make eye contact as you scan his groceries, almost too tired to raise them from the conveyor belt. Not for lack of respect—it comes off as pure exhaustion. 

You know John as the gruff, taciturn park ranger that comes in once a week to load up on steaks, cold cuts and fresh produce, but in the months you’ve lived in this town, he’s always fresh off work, a little rough around the edges and not quite fit for human interaction just yet. He just grunts and nods when you tell him his total, towers over you and never really makes much eye contact. 

It’s always non-perishables with him these days. At least for the past several weeks, as far as you know. Cans and jars and freezer-ready meals. He doesn’t strike you as much of a prepper, but his order speaks for itself. It’s one of the things you like most about your job—getting to peek into the small crack of life laid bare before you. 

“Getting ready for the winter?” you ask. 

John grunts, eyes meeting yours just briefly before dropping down again. Dark brown. Sometimes you swear you catch the faintest glimmer of gold in them, like a honey glaze, but it’s likely just a trick of the lights. 

“Gonna be a rough one.” 

You try not to shiver at the sound of his voice. It’s not often that you get to hear it; even though you moved into the house next to his almost six months ago, he spends most of his days in the mountains, working up there as a ranger. He comes home after dark nearly every day—not so hard now that the sun sets early on in the day, but even back in the summer you’d spy him coming back from his shift well after dark. 

He’s gotten more heavyset in the last couple of weeks, a comfortable weight to his midsection and arms. Beefier, more solid. When John is in front of you, it’s like no one else in the world exists at that moment; he removes them all from sight and mind. It soothes some of the worry that his constant late coming has stirred up in you, knowing that he’s fed. Not all of it though.

“You know the, uh—” you start, clearing your throat midway through, almost losing your nerve under his sudden attention at the sound of your voice, “—the butter’s twenty percent off this week. I, um…I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed.” You catch his little frown and clarify. “You usually get butter.”

“Thank you, but not this time,” he says gruffly. “Got enough of it in the freezer.”

“Oh…well…” you trail off like you’re going to say something else but you let the conversation fall flat instead. 

He’s quiet the rest of the time as you bag his groceries. John always is. There’s a hurt side of you, silently begging for more, but you’ve watched him enough around town to know that this is just what he’s like. Gruff with the other rangers on the mountain, taciturn after a long day’s work, and sweet as apple pie with the older townsfolk. You’ve seen him help people at crosswalks and more than once he’s footed someone’s grocery bill when they’ve come short. 

Maybe you’re not interesting enough to merit conversation or that same goodwill he extends to others. Not that John has ever been anything less than polite with you, but—your thoughts scatter like birds when you recite his total without thinking and watch him wordlessly as he pays. 

“Thanks, honey,” John says, eyes meeting yours again. “See you next week.” He finally manages a smile, his eyes crinkling under the weight of it. 

You could get lost in his smile if you let yourself. It comes freely but seldomly these days, kept at bay by rough days out in the woods helping lost hikers, ticketing hunters for going over their allotment, and managing the wildlife. But when he smiles, you feel the blood go hot under your cheeks and fight every vision you have of him suddenly leaning across the counter and tipping your chin up for a kiss.

Tongue-tied, you nod. You can’t even force a smile on your face, wide eyes still set on him in wonderment. He doesn’t wait around for you to find your words.

But—you think again wistfully as he turns to leave—it might be nice once in a while. For him to look at you like you’re more than a stranger. 

You mourn your chance to talk to him once he’s out the door, wishing you could call him back. It’s not his fault that just the mere sight of him leaves you tongue-tied. It folds up like a cherry stem in your mouth when he speaks to you and you haven’t yet managed to untangle it in his presence. Maybe someday. 

That’s just life though. 

He’s always made you feel nervous, like a schoolgirl with her first crush, but it’s a safe kind of crush. The kind that feels fun to indulge in because there’s no possibility of reciprocation, like you can just ogle him and pine over him without having to worry about what you’d do if he felt the same way. You mourn the loss of him when he leaves, but like a tender bruise on your knee that you sometimes press just to shy away from. 

The rest of your shift pales in comparison to the eight minutes spent in his presence. Rinse and repeat. Someone else complains about the tomatoes and you write a note for your manager to read the next day. It’ll be her fault if someone finally emails in to complain or takes it to the news; there’s always an op-ed in the papers that’s little more than a thinly veiled bad Yelp review. 

John’s car is outside his house when you make it home at the end of the day, the lights still on inside. You sit in your car and stare at the light hidden behind the curtains. 

It would be nice, you think, resting your head back against the seat, to go up and knock at his door. If only you were braver. You’d march right up, knock on his door, and offer him something to eat. You could do it too. In the six months you’ve lived here, it’s not as though you’ve ever treated him particularly neighbourly. 

You squeak when you see John pull the curtain back and peer out the window, sliding down in the front seat so he doesn’t notice you there.

Maybe some other day then.

[sleepvines]

How does corn hell work?

okay so. I work at a grocery store in a very asian centric area, and every so often corn goes on sale. This week it is 15 cents a cob. There is a limit of 12 on corn, but people will come in with carts full of like, 20, 24, sometimes even 36 or 40+ and expect us to let them have it.

A few things. One, I have to deal with this shit constantly, the people trying to convince me to split the bill (against policy) for them or just give it to them (also against policy) are not special and are extremely inconvenient. This is exacerbated by a massive language barrier, because more often than not our customers speak mandarin and cantonese. I don't know mandarin and my cantonese is like, basically kindergarten level (numbers, a few words here and there.) so misunderstandings and miscommunications happen All. The. Time. It's not their fault for not knowing english and in fact I wish we had more language accommodations to make my job and their lives easier, but we're understaffed and management can't be assed. This corn sale problem happens with way more than just corn. every week sales change and some new thing arrives to uniquely pain me.

on top of all this? Machines freeze. our piece of shit (pos) system is so flimsy it breaks during busy days sometimes. and we have a promotion going on that slows the machines down further and that our customer demographic is hardly interested in at all. it's a clusterfuck!

and then the corn specific problem. the husking! the silk! corn bits are everywhere. they're in the conveyor belts, on my workspace, stuck to the scanner, everywhere and customers are NOT ALLOWED TO HUSK THE CORN IN STORE! we even charge more for it. they don't listen and some even protest. a customer told me today she was pushed out of the way for this shit. god.

food insecurity is a huge issue these days and I don't entirely blame them but dear god a lot of it is just straight up not cool.

anyway yeah corn hell. save me

[seenoversundown]

End of Summer Blurb; Josh & Quinn ✧˚

I’m awoken suddenly by the sound of gulls outside and flip over in bed to look at Quinn. The dawn light filters in through our window and Quinn looks angelic, sleeping comfortably, waiting for the day to greet them.  God, I can’t believe I get to wake up to this every day. I lean over and brush my fingers along their face, tracing their features. Committing them to memory. I continue to trace their features, thinking about how this is one of our last free weekends before school is back in session and they’re forced to be away from me, molding young minds through their art. I watch as their nose starts to crinkle because of the feel of my fingers against their skin and their eyes snap open. 

“Hi, baby,” they greet me in their sleepy voice.  “Good morning, bug,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the bridge of their nose, “Let’s get up. We have a big day.” Quinn lets out a huff but swings their legs over the edge of the bed and stands up. “Gimme a minute to become a human, Starlight,” They say through a yawn. I get up from the bed and walk around to give them a light pat on the ass. I toss a quick “Coffee’ll be up in a minute” over my shoulder as I walk out.

After we’re up and moving, we decide to head over to Hobby Lobby. Quinn needs to get a few items before the start of the school year, and this is the last Saturday before school goes back in session. Their first year teaching on their own, I could not be more proud of them. 

We walk through the aisles of the store together, Quinn placing item after item in their cart. Chalk, pastels, acrylic paints, water colors, colored pencils, the list goes on. I can see their brain working overtime, trying to calculate how much they’ll have to shell out. It may have previously been a concern for them, but it never would be again, I think as I break off from them to walk toward the Hobby Lobby Lobby to see if my girl is still there. I reach the entrance to Hobby Lobby and immediately spot Bessie. My cow portrait, with a beautiful, beautiful yellow clearance sticker. I smile to myself, giggling a bit as I pick her up. I knew she’d go on sale eventually. I walk back into the store and see Quinn lined up, unloading their basket onto the conveyor belt. I walk up behind them, placing Bessie in with their items. “Oh, you think I’m made of money, huh?” They ask with a chuckle, but  reach  into their canvas bag to retrieve their wallet anyway. I bat their hand away, and quickly pull my debit card from the pocket of my jacket. “No, but I am,” I hand my card to the cashier without even hearing the total, “That’s the benefit of picking your own salary.” I place a kiss on the top of their head and grab Bessie before walking out the door.  “Hey! Slow down,” They call after me, bags swishing with every step. “Sorry, Bug,” I laugh, “But, I made lunch reservations. Gotta speed up if you wanna get there on time.”

I love how supportive Josh is of Quinn's passion and career. Owie. Also.. Here's Bessie! Of course Josh would love her!

ATS Masterpost | The Caravel Tavern Series | Masterlist

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[prize-pig-collection]

Only the Necessities

an inspirational story

Check out this post if you haven’t already. A recipe for a shake that’s about 3 gallons and almost 32,000 calories, and an update from the author who says she swears by it, and it’s a big part of what’s helped her blow up to 540 pounds as of about a year ago.

So that author @juliebelly and I were talking earlier. It turns out she’s 575 pounds now, and desperate to be 600 or more 😉

So desperate, in fact, that she wants one of these “little” shakes right now! But she said she needed a little motivation to get out of bed and to the store. Understandable at her size. Between that, and a little quirk of the recipe, that set off a little story in my head…

———

I can’t imagine what the scene at the grocery store is gonna look like…

Either you’ll roll up to the checkout on a scooter that’s struggling to handle your weight (it’s only meant for 500 lbs, after all!), or you’ll be sweaty and red-faced from all the waddling around the aisles you had to do. Hopefully you didn’t bump into anything in the aisles, because bending over to pick things up just isn’t your thing… someone who works there is gonna have to deal with that.

So either way, there you’ll be with your gallon of ice cream, gallon of milk, 3/4 gallon of cream, 4 cans of condensed milk, box of brownie mix, and 5 bottles of chocolate syrup.

One look at you, and the stuff on the conveyor belt, and despite how impossible it sounds, the cashier will just know, somehow, that’s all destined to get down your throat as soon as humanly possible.

I’m sure all the other times you go grocery shopping, and pile up junk food at the register, maybe they tell themselves, “Oh she’s having a big party…” or “Maybe she’s stocking up for a few months while there’s a sale.”

But I think this random set of ingredients makes clear in their mind: “She’s gonna drink this all together. I bet she somehow gets off on it too. Clearly this isn’t the first time she’s done this, I mean look at her…”

Maybe they’ll even tease you a little bit. Call over a manager and ask, “Hey there’s a deal over in Dairy, right, where if you buy a gallon of milk, a gallon of ice cream, and a gallon of cream, you get some money off, or something? I was just wondering if I should tell this piggy… I mean person, oops!… that they should go grab another quart of heavy cream, to make it a full gallon?”

And it turns out they’re right, an extra quart would trigger the deal. It’s meant more for their commercial customers—restaurants, bakeries, and so on—but they’ll allow it for you. Nothing says a regular person can’t get the deal, just no one ever tried. Huh, that’s weird, isn’t it? Oh well, someone’s gotta be the first.

A closer look at you, though, and it’s obvious that to send you all the way back to the dairy aisle would be too much of a struggle. And there’s people in line behind you. You’re gonna need a little help if you’re gonna make this quick.

So the announcement goes over the loudspeaker: “Can an associate in Dairy bring over 1 quart of heavy cream to register 6? We’ve got someone here who wants the gallon of cream, gallon of ice cream, gallon of milk deal. The one that’s usually for business accounts? Just a regular person this time, but my manager says it’s OK!”

Then they realize: they didn’t actually ask you if you wanted the other quart of cream. But the way you’re eyeing the stuff already on the belt, trying not to drool, tells them they made the right call.

Good luck having the patience to get all the way home and firing up the blender before you start chugging away…

[mysticsmollpotatoad]

Modern enemy of the warlords

This is just a little headcanon I have in mind. During the sengoku era, every warlords' enemy is the opposing warlords and traitors. But if they went to the modern world...who or what will they considered as their enemy?

Nobunaga

Dentist.

He has the same VA as Gintoki and there's also an episode where Gintoki went to dentist so it's easy to imagine him wailing like a kid internally.

You will only get him to the dentist because you work together with Hideyoshi to trap him.

No way he would come voluntarily.

Everything about dentist just unsettle him.

The boring waiting room, the sound of the tools, the distinctive odor, and the idea that someone has to gain access to open and meddle with his mouth (only you can gain free access).

Of course it was Hideyoshi who insists his lord to get a check up because his sweet tooth lord won't give up on eating sweets.

cue glaring

But the sound of terror coming from the tools are stronger than any enemy he had faced.

He will cease the glare and throw pitiful puppy look toward you as last resort.

🥺

Nope. Not working. Hideyoshi already gave strict instructions to you.

After the treatment, nobunaga never felt this betrayed before. He even prefer Mitsuhide to betray him for real rather than being dragged to the dentist.

Hideyoshi

Magician

Why? If you combine Mitsuhide's trickery and Masamune's recklessness into one occupation you'll get a magician.

Seriously tho...he will get a heart attack if you bring him to watch a magic show with dangerous stunt as a surprise.

It was a bad surprise idea because...

"wait wait wait!!! That's dangerous! Hey you! Wha-"

You need to silence him down before he interrupted the show and start his lecture about safety.

You'll have to tell him that everything is scripted and safe...most of the time.

"But it's still unacceptable to see people play around with their lives like that."

He also dislike them more when you told him that there are also those who can hipnotize other people.

Even a simple card tricks will annoyed him.

Maybe it's because it gave him the same familiar sensation like being fooled by Mitsuhide.

Masamune

Sushi terrorist

Have you heard the news?

Lately in Japan there's this group who terrorize sushi restaurants by licking the soy sauce bottles, tea cups, and sushi on conveyor belt (the culprits already got arrested).

Masamune as the chef of the group and the one who appreciates food the most, definitely won't tolerate this act of disrespect toward foods.

If the culprits are still running loose, he will hunt them and whoop their asses.

"so you lads were the naughty nasty kittens who ran around licking things? You should have told me. I have better "catnip" for you lads to lick. Oi Ieyasu, give me your best batch of sauce and pepper."

You better believe the culprits find enlightenment after tasting Masamune's "special" course.

Ieyasu

Pesky sales

Whether it's shady neighbors who tried to recruit him to join shady group or average sales who diligently offer their products...all of them annoyed him.

"No, I don't need it. Leave me alone."

You started to wonder why he seem to be attracting the attention of those sales.

There were always several sales flocking on him wherever he goes.

Maybe because he looks soft and an easy target for them?

He became more grumpy and decided to wear a hat, glasses, and mask whenever he goes out.

In addition, there was that one time when someone offer free pack of tissues on the street.

He accepted it but he was curious why there is a phone number on it.

He asked you and you told him that's a phone number to order a "service" from those ladies.

(⁄ ⁄•⁄Д⁄•⁄ ⁄) He was blushing hard and found those sales tactic as unbelievable. He became more cynical and suspicious toward any kind gesture from modern people.

Mitsunari

Scammer

He might also have the same problem as Ieyasu since he also look like an easy target. But he managed to unintentionally blinded them with his angelic smile and steer them away...almost like they are being manipulated. Of course that's also thanks to your help for teaching him what's right or wrong in this era.

But even Mitsunari can found something as unpleasant.

It was during a date. You brought him to a traditional japanese festival.

There were a lot of stands but a particular stand picked his curiosity.

It was like a gambling game with prizes.

He was observing how it works. He noticed that something is off.

He confronted the owner by asking a barrage of questions and ended it by presenting his calculations to prove that the game is rigged.

Winner: Mitsunari.

Yes, it's similar to karma akabane but Mitsunari did it without ill intent.

Mitsuhide

Ah...he is a hard one.

He is too composed and smart for his own good.

But...even Mitsuhide should have his own fair share of struggle in the modern world.

Fangirls with moe power.

Act suspicious and smug all you want, but you are weak against strong and straight forward affections, right Mitsuhide?

His mysterious allure might attracted fangirls, otaku, and even creepy stalker fans like sasaeng.

He learns that people in this era can be more aggressive in their approach when it comes to forming a relationship or admiring someone.

Poor kitsune.

He can't keep up with the power of moe.

You offered to console your exhausted kitsune.

Like Ieyasu, in the end he decided to disguise himself when he goes out.

Kenshin

Pretty much everyone and everything.

He hates the police for forbidding him from carrying his sword.

He hates those scouts who keep trying to scout him into modelling, host, and even boyband.

He hates those small fry criminals like molesters (if they touch you, they die).

He hates those who keep staring at him with glimmering eyes.

Imagine a scene from ouran high school where there is this yakuza guy who glares at a bunch of girls, but the power of moe is stronger than his glare. It's similar with Kenshin.

He has similar problem like Mitsuhide, but Kenshin is too...rebellious to hide himself. Hiding is not in his nature.

He won't disguise himself unless you ask him.

"How dare you order me around. Are you trying to get in my way?"

Oh yeah..he will also hate rules like limited purchase.

Shingen

This one is unusual. I can't see him as disliking someone strongly. So...

Low ceiling.

Yep, it's a struggle for all tall people who came to Japan.

Walking in the hallway? He need to bent a bit.

Sometimes his head bonk into hanging direction plates.

Just...don't take him to a capsule hotel if you want a steamy night with him.

Yukimura

Host club

(o/////o " ) blushing intensifies

"h-how can all of them flirt in a room full of people? Don't they have some decency?" *closing his eyes with both his hands*

It's like in a room full of lord Shingen.

Poor boy can't take the heat and wanted to leave immediately.

He is more astounded when you told him that they don't even flirt genuinely.

Seems like a fitting job for his lord. Of course, he won't allow it if his lord really did want to become a host.

Sasuke

😐

Is there any?

He is a modern man.

He is used to it and can handle it.

Along with you, he will help the warlords to get used to life in modern time.

[theblacksuntheory]

The pace of life

How very nice it is after working all day, To come back home and quietly wile away, Your leisure hours in many pleasant ways, Easing the pressures of your present days.

Life is a round of lots of things to do, Demands are made, and we must see them through, Our brains get muddled and we cannot think, For our minds are forever teetering on the brink!

There's loads of 'remedies' for sale out there, Said to solve strain and stress, but do beware, These remedies are not quite what you need, The 'slowing down' is where you will succeed.

For we go rushing on at such a speed, Pounding away without the time to 'heed' Like the methodical clock that's ticking on the wall, There is no time to stop or even stall.

Everyone is on a fast conveyor belt, Tensions mount and then the panic's felt, We must slow down now, and set the pace, For ourselves in this mad frantic race.

Time was, when life for us was calm and steady, Running like a slow and gentle eddy, Life was hard but had it's rhythmic progress, Taking time, saved us from certain distress.

There's no escape now from our daily toil, We seem to be permanently on the boil, That's why our leisure time gives us an easing, For going at such a speed, is just not pleasing.

Something has got to give, to make us stop, And realise that if we don't, we're going to drop! We are not machines that can go on forever, We may be bright, and OK we may be clever.

But what use is that if we no longer function, When we have gone and reached the final junction, There's one way left and that is up to you, Look after yourself, and to yourself be true.

Be happy, be cheerful, be relaxed and calm, Do nothing that is too quick to cause alarm Your body and brain, you must keep steady and sure, And you will undoubtedly live, to one hundred and four!

By Ernestine Northover

[hudsolutions]

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[firespirited]

Got screwed by LaPoste again. Flatmate woke me up to pay €11: more than the cost of the item with postage: I'd already paid import taxes, it was tracked so they could have emailed me for the €3 custom fee, it had a CN22 that said both these things but it was folded inwards so their shoddy machines didn't scan it.

A few years ago this would have ruined half my day. But I've been doing whatever therapy technique it is to take your strong emotions and break it down into every single component and examine every facet until it's something you understand, can accept and form solutions

Here's a little peek at what comes out after lots of uncomfortable moments of digging down:

ANGER because this is ethically wrong and entirely avoidable:

If they'd bothered to open the CN22, i wouldn't have to pay. As is I was presented with losing the item and reorder (with wait time) or hand over the money. Their corner cutting on personnel led to this.

Customs fee was actually €3. The extra €8 is a handling fee for laposte. If your parcel has tracking, customs contact you by email and you pay online. I did it last week for the Japan parcel. I was not sent an email for this.

None of that €8 handling fee goes to the postie who has an extra five minutes to make up for. I wouldn't mind if it was a tip, we cash-tip regularly for difficult deliveries.

There's no receipt and most people pay in cash so an unscrupulous postie could ask for whatever whenever. Half of my spam is claims from various delivery companies claiming my parcels are held up and need money, they opened a terrible can of worms

Laposte is not great at what they do and have not operated as a public service for a long time now with massive inflation on the cost of sending stuff. A postcard stamp (in country!) will set you back $1.6

RESENTMENT because I was extremely strict about hobby money.

A €11 loss would have meant two yarn or partial reroots to make up for it. Possibly selling one of my personal collection. At least four hours of work.

Every single supply and unexpected expense like parcel loss or extra fees came from the hobby fund which would be in the red if it wasn't a current sales moment. (My first rotary tool was bought with hobby money even though it had non doll purposes for example.)

I knew at the time that it was unhealthy thinking but hadn't found an alternative or ways to mentally unblock.

IMPOTENCE:

recourse is nearly impossible the post office system is designed that way: no receipt and they can claim bad formatting of the CN22 masked the barcode. It's always something. They sent my australia parcel to austria, billed me, i opened a case and checked in every month and nothing.

poverty mindset: if you've ever felt the sting of removing an item from the conveyor belt to afford the total, you know that someone else's small change is something big and important and painful. Even once you have some money it doesn't go away: donating to others is easy, being cheated by a system is awful.

Solutions:

As much as possible, I don't use LaPoste and their extortionate prices for sending to France and the EU. My two posties get regular tips and cash gifts at Christmas but I don't use the post office unless I absolutely have to. Mondialrelay or Point to Point get my money whenever possible. That feels good and makes losses feel less bad.

I treat unexpected expenses like a lost parcel, disgruntled client or new fees as a tip to myself. I put in the work, did everything I could and something out of my control happened. The expense is marked down but cancelled out from my personal kitty. I have been inconvenienced: I'm not going to let it hurt or work it off.

Hobby supplies that are multipurpose are a third category. I was putting glues, chemicals, thread and needles under expenses when I use them for all sorts of repairs.

More importantly: the hobby money spreadsheet became a guideline not a business expenditure book.

Since about 2019 I've also been trying to integrate the idea of the joy of the hobby having its own cost and reward built in:

If i make no money back from a €30 gunky bundle of dolls, there was still €30 worth of enjoyment in fixing them up. The experience of practising even if it comes out all wrong is also valuable. And you often get a tutorial out of it 😁 (see my "mistakes I make so you don't have to" tag)

There was a time before handicap benefits where every cent counted but even then we all managed to make tough choices so we could save small amounts of 'cushion' money - We'd all learned to be so cautious that the cushions went mostly untouched until benefits hit and something unlocked despite still being under the poverty line: the cushion had gone from €30 (100 if we had a good series of months) to €300 emergency funds and no medical expenses were paid out of pocket (as opposed to upfront with a potential refund later) and that made all the difference.

But also a big change was the mindset:

Normal people's unwinding experiences often aren't free even if it's just eating your own snacks at a local bit of grass.

Really throwing out the idea that hobbies should be monetized (that part was hard to unlearn, not just because it was so prevalent but because of shame at not "having a job"- i know now that my full-time job is to keep this body alive and I get maybe 3 hours max to not be about surviving)

Even in poverty you deserve treats because those make priceless memories. Hobby time is valuable because it's what's makes us human not just productivity/survival machines.

-----------------------

Anyway I've also been trying to apply this to my rejection sensitive dysphoria, knowing I'm going to lose Lily soon, frustration with how slow core muscle rebuilding is taking, as well as the very real fear of alienating my sister by accident or just clashing needs (NGL I spiralled most of the day when we had the odd confrontation last week).

but I'd rather break down something less personal in public. ^^;

Here's hoping this little thing that would drive me batty from feeling powerless, which now doesn't sting as much helps someone

[magicalgardenofhypnosis]

Buying Mattel Part 2

“Chris Evans no.1 sales are thriving through the roof.”

“It’s been a year! We need a second level new model.”

“The bot no.2 is almost to fruition and I bet it’s impossible for you to guess who it is.”

“Sitting in my castle where I do business and live in my home.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Check it out the most spectacular type”

“One you can’t imagine”

“Hurry up!”

“Are you gas lighting me?”

“Oh brother! Fine! Henry please join me”

“Who sir? Henry Cavill?”

“No Way!”

I use the remote pressing it once more the wall slips upward a cloud of white smoke and yellow lights flow out.

A strange man walks out of the shadows of the world growing in intensity of the gigantic room.

Chris Evans us stunning to behold at his wild reaction at the sight of that super hunk.

Henry Cavill body is shinning in the outline in darkness he offers me a hand I don’t take it.

My two guards tap his shoulder without any other thoughts I stick my syringes needle in to his skin.

Henry faints in their arms, they throw him in to the elevator pressing the button as it it free fall.

Dragging him out of the room on the land medical slate rolling him till it impacts with the mold.

He drops in to it accidentally the pod closes instinctively setting the mold to blow out of the compartments.

I will entitle it the Henry Cavill The Bad boy Edition the conveyor belt go’s into action in a fiery passion.

The guards carry to storage in the frosty depth of the cryogenic chamber for future use.

The elevator bell rings loudly alerting me to the presence of Chris taking my hand in his.

My back hits my desk moving to sit on the desk and he slips between my legs he kisses me.

“My Sire, Please put me first”

“You are my NO.1”

“Ugh! My love”

“Wait here!”

“Blast, you want him too”

“Of course fool!”

“I get what I want “

“When I want”

“Yes Master…but”

“Gggggoooooddddd!”

“Guards remove him”

“No Master!”

“Release him”

“You will be punished next time”

“Oh praise you my King!”

The end

[threehundredhats]

OoooooOOO scary(itsnotthatscarystill) story part 2 OOOOO

You can't exactly scan anymore items when the machine is asking for a service plan so I let my own eyes wander, and I see what was waiting behind the grinder: The deli meat I had seen earlier. Except it wasn't just deli meat, it was whole steaks and sausages and slabs of pork. And beyond all those piles of meat, was a single brown paper bag, the bottom dark with some liquid that was slowly leaking onto the conveyor belt. I don't know why but I felt, weird about it. I linked it to the idea that the liquid was going to make the bag tear easily, but that still didn't feel like that was it. The man finally decided on getting the service plan, which cost a ridiculous amount for a hand crank grinder, and I began to scan the meat. Most of it was soggy by now, I don't think I took that long getting to it? Maybe the old man just wandered around with it in his cart forever. I glanced back at him and nearly jumped, his head practically leaning over the register as he stared at the meat. He must have taken notice because he stepped back, though didn't stop looking at his soggy purchases. I made some conversation to cut the tension, trying to start with a “So, have a lot of mouths to feed, eh?” only to be met with “Oh I just like to save it up.”. I wanted to continue but the only words I could think of were ‘You eat all this!?’, so I dropped the chatter. Can I tell you how annoying it is to scan meat products? They are always in some small bag you have to open, or the barcode is wet and wont read, or sometimes it's none of those and the machine just doesn't accept the item despite nothing being wrong. This grievance came to my mind when the paper bag finally reached me. I picked up the scanner and with an annoyed glare at the bag went to open it. I had barely any time to notice the man was over the register again. I did notice, though, his slimy hand firmly grab mine as I opened the package. I could feel his bone through his thin skin and, and his skin.. It was like leather left in the rain. His gray eyes looked through me the same way as when he looked at his deli. It pains me to admit I, indeed, did yelp a little at this otherwise out-of-line customer behavior. Not wanting to be gripped anymore I did the first thing to pop in my head and let go of the red stained bag, and thankfully he unclenched his hand from mine upon doing so. He smiled, and in the same charming old voice he spoke with earlier said “My apologies, I did not want the bag to rip. I hope I was not inconveniencing you.” I smiled, wiping my arm on my uniform behind my back “Of course sir.” I say. He turns the bag around and plastered to the back of it is a barcode sticker. I examined it for a moment, the bottom of it was wet with the red that was now making a whole puddle on the conveyor which I simply knew I was going to have to clean again. It looked like a real enough barcode, though I'd never seen the deli use a brown bag for any of the meat, not that I really cared if this guy was trying to sneak some expensive meat out with a lower price, I only cared that he wasn't going to be staring at me any longer. To my surprise the barcode worked, and it wasn't listed as cheap either. Three hundred and something dollars for something that seemed the size of a burger patty, not that I had the chance to see it but it had that weighty-feel when I had moved the bag. Actually in all the man had spent well over seven hundred dollars on everything, still not the biggest sale I had though, you would not believe how much some people buy by themselves.

(Hey Hat again did you know I still dont know how to get around the big old word limit anyways hope your nights going well look for the third part somewhere)

[punching-pandas]

The best way to eat conveyor belt sushi

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