#All Patrons Is Can Cause Problems. All Patrons Is Welcome

[2percentsugar]

am also a library worker and would like to cosign this with the addition that: even when homeless patrons cause a problem, so what? don't you have moments in your day where you pace, scream, or cry? don't you have a private place in which to do it?

for many of my library's homeless patrons, the library is their private place. it is either unsafe or uncomfortable to express the worst of their emotions outside, so they reserve a study room or go to the bathroom, because those are places they can be alone for free. wouldn't you have some pretty ugly emotions if you didn't have a home to go back to?

it is true that the 1% of homeless patrons who cause a problem are usually much more cooperative with staff than housed ppl doing the same. but even if they weren't. even if that number was 10% or higher. even if you think that someone sleeping in the library is reprehensible. they have to go somewhere, and if the library is not somewhere, then what's the fucking point?

my coworkers in public safety see, at least, an overdose a day. it's pretty common toward the beginning and end of the day, and certain bathrooms they patrol more often than others for this reason. but, crucially, most of those ODs survive. they're found right away and get the medical help they need. if the library -- which to be clear, is the last public space they can even be -- didn't allow them in, they would die.

don't get me wrong. it's fucking absurd that library workers are the last line of defense here, when social workers or shelters should be adequately funded to provide better help than we can. but the solution to that is not taking away the last line of defense for an entire group of people. even if some of them do disruptive things.

if you dislike seeing homeless people sleeping in the library, you should join the local fight for housing justice. i can promise you there is already organizing in your city, and that it'll do a hell of a lot more good than yelling at library workers about the smelly guy muttering to himself.

cos, listen. even if we kick him out, he still exists. he's still your neighbor, your community member, and a human fucking being. and where else is he going to go, except the library?

A question I get asked a lot while working at a public library is "how do you deal with homeless people?"

And the answer is, we don't.

The unhoused people who come here seeking refuge 99% of the time understand that they will be kicked out if they misbehave.

The people you have to watch out for are Jessica, who only came because the kid she didn't want had to visit for a homework assignment and she just *needs* to yell at her child for asking to borrow two books or stay an extra five minutes, or Michael, who came in to look at porn on our computers for whatever fucking reason, or Karen who just wanted to come by to throw a fit that the particular book she wanted was checked out and harrass our staff about our collection being too limited.

99% of the time, the people we need to ban are middle to upper-middle class white people while the homeless and mentally ill/disabled people mind their own damn business and are honestly some of the best patrons we have.

[haleysgf]

irrevocably, absolutely.

Emily x Reader

Summary: Emily not realizing that the Farmer is smitten with her and that she’s smitten with them for a good portion of the fic.

Or

What I imagine when I romance Emily

Warnings: None!

A/n: ty for requesting! i think i went kinda crazy with this one. this is a formal apology for the Emily angst i posted the other day

w.c. 1.5k

--♡--

When the new Farmer moved into the old abandoned farm, Emily wasn’t sure what to think. In all honesty, after hearing some information from Robin at aerobics, she worried that the sudden shift from large city to small town would only be cause for the Farmer to move back out of the valley.

She didn’t see the farmer for the first couple days that they moved in, well, she hadn’t talked to them. There seemed to be no opportunity as she watched the Farmer walk in and out of Pierre’s multiple times a day, clothes caked in dirt, face grim, sweaty, and flushed as they hauled seeds and other wares to the farm.

The first official time she spoke to the farmer was at work. She had been polishing a glass (besides Fridays, the Stardrop Saloon barely had any patrons) when the door opened and a face poked inside.

Emily turned at the initial noise, and her eyes widened and the corners of her lips quirked up as she identified the individual.

“Welcome to the Stardrop Saloon!” Gus chimed, this was likely his first meeting with the Farmer as well, if the curiosity in his eyes was anything to go by.

The Farmer gave a charming smile as they slid into a barstool at the counter, quickly introducing themself to Gus. They then turned to Emily, and the charming smile grew slightly.

Emily felt a tug at her stomach as she made eye contact with the farmer. From this new proximity,(and the evident lack of dirt and grime on the farmer) she could see their face clearer, eyes roaming the Farmer’s face, taking note of particularly attractive aspects. She had known ahead of time that the Farmer was attractive, Haley had said as much at dinner when the latter had met the Farmer for the first time.

Although she didn’t doubt her sister’s statement, she noted that the Farmer wasn’t simply physically attractive. The way they held themself, the timbre of their voice, and their aura all contributed to the slight tug in her stomach.

They looked relaxed on the stool, like they had figured out the problem that had their eyebrows tense and pulled together when Emily had seen them last.

“I can tell on by your face that you’re going to love it here.” She shoots them a wink, and the Farmer chuckles and raises the drink Gus had handed them in a toast.

Emily beams and she knows that she’ll be seeing a lot more of the Farmer.

As the days rolled by, Emily notes that she was right. It seemed like the Farmer came by the saloon most nights, greeting Gus before striking up conversation with Emily.

They listen as she polishes the glasses, sometimes pouring a beer for Pam, chatting about the dream she had recently, or the most recent piece of clothing she’s been working on. They talk about the sustainable farming practices the Farmer is implementing, and the different flowers that they hope to plant.

It’s nearly every night that the Farmer comes to chat, and each little ring as the door opens causes a little tug in Emily’s stomach. She chalks it up to excitement to talk to someone who listens as she indulges herself by talking about magic in the valley, or any other “odd” or “weird” (as Haley would put it) topic of conversation.

The farmer never criticizes or makes a face, they simply listen with rapt attention and give their two-cents on the topic when Emily pauses meaningfully.

There’s also the matter of her request posters. Every time she puts up a “help wanted” sign at Pierre’s, it seems like the request is filled within the day. A sheepish farmer holding out whatever flower or fish she had requested before they delve into their daily conversation. If her heart gives a small squeeze each time it happens, it’s her business.

And, if she went to see Harvey just in case these heart squeezes were abnormal, that’s her business as well.

And then the dream happens.

Emily can admit to herself that she might be a little odd. There’s nothing wrong with that, she’s simply more in tune with her chakras and energy than most other people are. But dreaming about someone definitely has at least some implication.

The farmer showing up in her dream just means that their destinies are intertwined. She was right in telling the Farmer that she knew they would love it in the valley.

She gnaws on her lip as she stares at the door the evening after the dream. Anticipation eats at her stomach, and she brightens each time the little bell rings.

When the farmer comes in, Emily’s eyes widen at their state.

In the month or so that the Farmer had come into the Saloon to chat with Emily, she thought she had seen it all. Sweaty, caked in dirt, chicken feathers stuck to their clothes, even sopping wet after running in from the rain.

But, she had never seen the Farmer hurt. And so nonchalantly as well.

There’s a small gash on their face, the blood and dust smeared to the side. Their clothes are dusty and dirty, and their backpack looks heavy.

“Where on earth did you go?” Emily moves fast, wetting a clean towel kept behind the counter and offering it to the Farmer.

“Went to explore the mines.”

Emily’s heart races and her heartbeat grows faster.

“That’s so dangerous! Why would you go down there?” She watches as the Farmer dabs the gash on their face with the towel, and Emily vaguely thinks that the Farmer looks attractive with the gash.

“To get this.”

The farmer places the towel on the counter and digs through their bag.

Emily is sure she hears the clinking of rock against rock, but she doesn’t say anything.

There’s a moment as the farmer digs through their bag, eyebrows furrowed as they search for whatever it is they’re looking for. Emily takes the moment to trace her eyes over the Farmers figure, eyes lingering on the strain of their bicep against their shirt fabric.

Once the Farmer finds what they’re looking for, they make a noise signaling that they were successful, and Emily flushes red.

A bright purple stone is placed carefully on the table, and the air rushes out of Emily’s chest.

“It’s beautiful.”

One of her fingers comes up to gently run along the edge of the amethyst, feeling the ridges and smooth planes that make up the stone.

“It’s for you, happy birthday.” The farmer’s smile is soft and affectionate, and Emily’s eyes widen.

Her heart thunders in her chest as her mouth drops slightly.

“Oh, it’s beautiful. I hope you didn’t put yourself into too much danger for this.” She can’t seem to take her eyes off of the stone, not hearing the pleased hum the Farmer makes at her.

“It’s supposed to protect you right? I get worried sometimes when you walk alone at night after your shift. Maybe you’ll be safer if you carry it with you.”

Emily had told the Farmer about the different properties that gems held about a week ago, and she thought the soft contemplative look on the Farmers face was simply a reflection of their understanding.

But, no. The farmer had been planning on going down into the dangerous mines, simply to retrieve a stone that Emily had expressed desire for. And not only that, had remembered the properties of it and worried about her.

Emily’s cheeks heat up as she looks up at the farmer.

She’s sure there’s a fierce blush riding high on her cheeks, and she self-consciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her heart thunders in her chest, and she’s finally able to connect the tugging feeling in her stomach to the anticipation for the Farmers arrival to the squeezing warmth spreading through her chest.

Emily manages a soft “Oh.” and the Farmer smiles in understanding. It seemed like no matter what she did or said, the Farmer understood.

She had been seen for who she was.

The following weeks maintain a pattern, the farmer would come into the saloon twice a week, later than usual, holding a new shiny rock for Emily to gasp over, heart thundering at the gesture.

And soon, just the sight of the farmer had her heart thundering in her chest. The farmer and their easy smiles, quiet laugh, and genuine hums as Emily spoke.

It was easy, the year continued on, and Emily allowed herself to privately think about the Farmer and the quiet way they took care of her, daydreaming about what it must be like to live on a farm.

Everything came to a head when the farmer burst into the Saloon right as Emily clocked in. Emily has no time to react to the flushed Farmer in front of her before there’s a bouquet of flowers between them, and the Farmer’s easy smile looks a little nervous.

And she crashes head first. Melting at the gesture, all of her feelings and thoughts and everything make sense as she nods out a yes and the Farmer breathes a relieved sigh.

As if there were any doubt that Emily wasn’t irrevocably, absolutely in love with the Farmer from the moment they walked into the saloon.

[deusvervemakesgames]

Project RBH Devlog 0090

I fixed the screen tearing and I am mad about it.

After all this work trying to figure out what was wrong with my camera, all the random tweaks to the code to see if there would be an effect, all that effort, and what actually worked was making the game fullscreen.

It’s fine! I probably need to tweak all that camera work now so that the fixes I’ve introduced don’t cause problems with resolution, but it’s totally fine and I am not furious at all.

(I also made it so that hitting Escape closes the game, since, well, fullscreen.)

To celebrate getting the screen to stop tearing, I decided to beef up the enemies. They kind of sucked, to be honest. Not that I thought they were bad or boring, but they didn’t feel as good as they could have. I wanted to make a few small tweaks to improve game flow.

First thing I did was adjust their pathfinding. Before, to make sure they could navigate obstacles, I had them using a navigation grid. The problem with that is that they could only move in eight directions, which didn’t really look very good. Now they run a quick check to see if there is an obstacle between them and the player, and if there isn’t, they don’t need to use the navigation grid, and thus can move in any direction towards the player. I then improved on that by adding some interpolation, so that they don’t snap to a new direction but make a very small turn as the player moves. It’s a minor thing, but it looks so much better.

The other problem I had with them is that they aim where the player is and not where they’re going to be, which makes them come across as highly inaccurate. Getting them to lead their target wasn’t actually as hard as I expected it to be, once I understood the theory behind the math.

However this led to another discovery. Once they started leading the target, they’d have to shoot way off to the side because their bullets were so slow, which also made them seem highly inaccurate. To fix this, I simply upped their bullet speed by 50%. Now the enemies are way more dangerous! And fun! You’re welcome.

Until next Devlog!

-DeusVerve

DevLogs like these are brought to you by Patron(s) like Haelerin!

Support me on Patreon to get Early Access to builds!

[writingmysanity]

Commit to the Bit (2)

Pairing: Sanji x Fem!baker

Word count: 4445

TW: slight violence. Jeff is a jerk and Sanji kicks him out... literally. Peter is an angel.

AN: Sorry this took so long to get out! Holiday, Family, Kids field trips, unplanned.. everything. Of course it all happens at once lol. There *will* be a part 3. Thank you so much for all of the love on part one, it really brings me so much joy to know you guys love them as much as I do.

<<part one part three>>

========

Morning comes sooner than you wished it to, earning a soft groan as you roll yourself out of bed. The far too close cry of your neighbor's rooster, who you've found often decides to scream whenever it pleases, startles you as it stands outside of your window as it does every morning. Yelping, you slip from the side, landing painfully on your butt as your blankets fumble to the floor around you.

For a moment, there is silence as he peers in the window, eyes locked on you as you stare back, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Can I not have one morning of peace?” you growl out, narrowing your eyes. At this, the creature squawks at you before bounding off from the ledge. As if congratulating itself on a job well done, you can hear it babbling to itself all the way back to its coop. Huffing, you push yourself to your feet slowly, tossing your blankets back onto the bed before moving to get your day started. 

It isn't long before you are standing before the bakery, keys in your hand, limbs heavy with the sleep you wish you had gotten. The warm night does nothing to aid in waking your sleeping thoughts, your body moving purely on auto pilot. 

“Good morning,” you hum to the body waiting for you by the door as you approach. “You’re on time.” you can't say you aren't surprised. This is an ungodly hour to most on a good day, but you had stayed up entirely too late the night before, conspiring with the strawhats on how this will play out, and what the plan will be. 

He seems almost offended that you expected him to be late, but sighs. 

“I get up this early every day,” he grouches a bit, pressing the door open once you unlock it, motioning for you to go in first as he holds it open. You pause, offering him a small, sleepy smile. 

“Thank you.” your voice is barely above a whisper, but you know he can hear you. He nods with a small smile of his own. 

“You’re welcome,” he says quietly back as you both wander into the bakery. You automatically start into your morning chores – sweeping, placing the chairs down from the table tops, wiping down the countertops. Sanji falls into step around you, helping you settle the heavier things properly, even if you didn't need the help. He just waved off your protests on being able to do it yourself with a smile. 

“Just because you can do it by yourself, doesn't mean that you should.” he stated clearly after Angie had left for the morning, as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world. Without another word, he moves to wipe down the various panes of glass around the shop, muttering about dirty pirates leaving scuff marks. 

As the morning drags on, his quiet quips continue, each one earning a huff from you as you work to keep your laughter to yourself. Though, the shake of your shoulders gives you away each time. 

You don't catch the way his eyes light up at the motion until later. 

Sanji is, of course, wonderful in the kitchen. You had hoped as much after learning about his culinary roots. This, of course, caused a slight problem for you both as you had to utter a sentence you never thought you'd have to say as you eye the way Marines continue to hover outside your door.

“Ruin the pastry, Rudy,” you hiss quietly at him when a few patrons come barreling through the doors. Sanji looked how you felt – scandalized. It hurts your heart to think of the wasted dough, but you have already put entirely too much into this bit. The unfortunate truth being, you can't let his own talent ruin it. He is still standing at his post in the kitchen, dumb founded, when you are whisked away to fill more orders. 

“Hello!” you sing everytime. “Welcome in.” 

You can feel his eyes on you, though you ignore the sensation. On more than one occasion, he has meekly brought you a ruined platter, eyes large and upset. You know he is upset at having to ruin a dish, something he never thought he would aim to do in his wildest dreams. In fact, it seems he is currently living his worst nightmare. Yet, he sells it well, whispering apologies when he “thinks” the current patron isn't paying attention. 

“What did I do wrong on this one?” he sighs, knowing full well what went wrong. 

Sabotage. 

The customer before you is quick to assure him with a smile. “It takes time, young man,” she states clearly, her smile turning teasing as her eyes turn to you. “You should have witnessed the dishes this one was turning out when she first started.” flushing, you wave her off with a pout.

“We don't talk about my apprentice days,” you huff, looking down at the pastry. Sanji does his best to keep the amusement from his expression. “I'll meet you in the kitchen here in just a moment and we can figure it out together” you offer patiently. He just nods, ducking back into the kitchen with one final glance at you that you don't catch, but your customer does. 

“But of course,” she muses, eyes twinkling in the bright morning light. “He’d perhaps make fewer mistakes if he could keep his eyes on what he is doing.” you raise an eyebrow at her as you finish wrapping her pastries. 

“Hm?” she just snickers. 

“It’d take a blind man to miss how he looks at you dear,” she hums delightedly. “And dare I say, you could do so much worse.” her tone turns almost sour as Jeff walks through the door, earning an amused huff from you as you hand her the wrapped package. 

“Thank you, Marie. It is always a pleasure to see you,” you say softly as she places a hand over yours with a wink and a nudge towards the kitchen before she turns to glower at the tall man standing behind her attempting to earn your attention through his normal antics. The huffs and whines do little but irritate you as he continues to wait impatiently, scuffing his boots on the panels that Sanji had painstakingly cleaned that morning. 

Oh he was going to hate that.

Marie stalls as long as she can, a mischievous smile stretched across her face as she listens to Jeff’s attempts to gather your attention to him grow louder and more frequent. You continue to answer her questions, your own amusement sparkling in your eyes as you watch her enjoy herself in irritating the man. 

“Well,” she finally calls slightly louder than she had been talking, after killing another five or so minutes asking various questions about the cooking processes and local yields. “You have been so hospitable, dear.” she hums happily, listening to Jeff grunt behind her in irritation. Even he wouldn't be rude enough to cut the woman off, being one of the few local elders left on the island. “Thank you for indulging an old lady.” 

You smile brightly, nodding to her, laughing softly. 

“You are always welcome, Marie.” you state softly. “Any of your curiosities, I am always happy to indulge in.”

Jeff, surprisingly, waits until she is out of the door before approaching the counter. His face is contorted somewhere between elation and mild annoyance, his smile twisting slightly as he says nothing at first. 

When you don't move to grab anything, he huffs. 

“Are you not going to get my order?” you raise an eyebrow at his tone, rough and harsher than usual as his smile twists down slightly. 

“You haven't ordered anything yet,” you answer, voice tight. You're proud of yourself when you manage to keep the smile on your face. 

“I order the same thing every time,” he insists, the elation falling from his face as the annoyance twists at his brows.

“I figured you wanted to try something new after not even touching the tart I fed you yesterday.” you raise an eyebrow. He may irritate you, but you haven't ever done more than turn down his advances and do your job. Perhaps it is your own restlessness of the situation you have put yourself in, the exhaustion from your late night, or the fact that he has spent the better part of the last 10 minutes acting like a spoiled child, but you can't seem to find it in you to placate his feelings at the moment. You watch as his jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing for a moment in thought. 

That would be a fair assessment for any other person, he deems. But you should know better.

And to be fair, you do. But you can't find it in you to care. 

“My normal,” he grouches, setting the coins on the counter top this time. The piles leave his hand, only half of them stacking into the nice piles he normally leaves while the rest skitter across the glass top. “Please.” he adds almost as an afterthought as he turns to settle into his seat next to the window. 

Without much more thought, you move to fill his order – a cup of coffee and a strawberry tartlet. 

The movements are almost routine, fluid in a way that is born out of years of repeated motion and muscle memory. Like every other day, you can feel his eyes on you, tracing your every move. Swallowing your urge to wretch, like you do every time, you turn with a small smile, moving to his side, placing his order before him. 

“Here you go,” you state, immediately moving to turn and walk away. Instead, like many times before, his fingers wrap around your wrist, keeping you from leaving his side. 

“When are you going to stop playing hard to get?” his earlier irritation bleeds through, though much more pronounced. The sting of being ignored and your general lack of excitement to see him finally coming to a head in his mind. When you move to pull your hand from his hold, his fingers tighten painfully, earning a small yelp. The noise startles him enough that his grip loosens just enough for you to snatch it from his hold, cradling it to your chest. 

“That hurt,” you hiss, rubbing the tender muscles there. The noise, unfortunately, caught the attention of the blond in the kitchen because he is coming out of the doors, concerned words dying on his lips, as Jeff is starting in on his response. 

“It's your own fault,” he snarls, reaching for you again. “If you'd just stop with your games, I would have already had you in my bed.” This time, his hand is knocked away as Sanji wedges himself between the two of you. 

“That is no way to talk to a lady,” the taller man growls, the timbre reverberating in his chest as he simultaneously presses closer to Jeff and gently pushes you further behind him, the heat of his glare making you shudder. Jeff is halfway to his feet when he recognizes the man before him, though sanji doesn't seem to care about that fact at the moment. If looks could kill, Jeff would have been obliterated several times over, seared into the earth with nothing more than ash left to be whisked away by the wind accompanied by the memory of his existence.

“I refuse to take advice from a pirate,” he spits the word, tone dripping with poison. “This matter doesn't concern you.” 

“Not a pirate,” you grouse, trying in your own stupor to keep up the charade. 

“You made it my business when you hurt her,” Sanji’s voice is steady, the chill of his words seeming to lower the temperature of the building, making you shiver. Nose to nose, neither man seems to want to back down. And you are quite certain of who would win, given it became physical. 

“Rudy,” you rasp, tugging at his arm lightly. “He isn't worth it.” you can already feel the emotions bubbling up. The pain in your wrist is little more than a dull throb, but you find it doesn't bother you nearly as much as the thought of the man in front of you getting hurt, or worse, killed, because of the trust fund man-baby before him. 

He allows you to tug him back, his eyes never straying from Jeff’s as he steps back enough to allow the man passage towards the door. Jeff snorts a laugh, lips tugging up in a mocking smirk. 

“Listening to a woman,” he huffs, shaking his head. “How pathetic.”

“Not nearly as pathetic as being unable to take the word no the first time,” Sanji bites back, lips curling into a smile, though it reads much more as a warning. His snarl hardens the gesture far too much for it to be anything but a threat. “At least I don't need to lay hands on a woman to prove I'm a man.” 

Slowly, then all at once. 

You almost don't see the way Jeff’s arm raises, his fist making contact with Sanji’s chin, a snarl on his lips. Automatically, you swing between them, a hand coming to rest on each of their chests in a weak attempt to separate them. Sanji does nothing to push past you, but Jeff tries to lunge forward again. His weight agitates your injured wrist, a resounding yelp tearing through the otherwise silent space. Without warning, you are moved. Sanji’s arm wraps around your shoulders as he brings you securely into his side. 

Before Jeff is able to make a move again, Sanji growls, kicking his body away from you. 

“Get out,” even Jeff is able to read the warning in his words, the unspoken promise lying just underneath, as his body crashes to the floor. He skitters through the door, not bothering to look back. Sanji doesn't move for several moments after the glass stops shaking from the force of the way Jeff had slammed it in his haste. It Isn't until you move to pull away from him that he stops glaring at the door, his arm tightening slightly over your shoulders for a moment before he relaxes enough for you to take a step back. 

When you move to reach for his face, the angry mark already beginning to blister purple and blue, he takes your hand gently with a shake of his head. 

“I am fine.” he insists, gently tugging your injured wrist into his hand. He cringes when you whimper at his tug, immediately apologizing. His fingers are gentle as he inspects it. “It isn't broken.” he states quietly, thumb rubbing soothing circles just below the blooming bruises of your own. 

“That’s something, I suppose,” you sigh, bringing your wrist to your chest again, cradling it there. He nods with a frown, gently ushering you into the seat as he busies himself with going to find the first aid kit he saw in the kitchen earlier that morning. You had barely enough time to fully process that he was gone before he was back, kneeling before you. Flipping the lid open, he rummages around until he finds some wrap he deems sturdy enough. 

“May I?” 

You don't hesitate to rest your wrist in his hands, watching quietly as he wraps it slowly. He is careful to keep it from being too tight, but tight enough to give the support you need. It's silent for several moments before he speaks up again. 

“How long has he been bothering you?” sighing heavily, you lean back in the seat, twisting your arm to inspect his handy work. It's clean, precise, and obviously well practiced. You don't look at him as you trace over the bandages, barely able to even feel the pressure of your fingertips through the wrap. 

“Years,” you admit. “Though, this is the first time he has gotten so physical.” 

He is silent as you sit there, allowing the moment to swallow you whole. You had never broached the subject with anyone, not even your father. Deep down, you knew it wasn't just Jeff’s forward tendencies or childish ways that made you uncomfortable. Sure, they didn't help, but they weren't the reason for placating the man's feelings for all this time. 

There was always a threat, a quiet red flag waving in the distance in the back of your mind when you were alone with him. 

Sanji doesn't say anything, he doesn't push where he already knows the answer. Sighing, he offers you a smile, soft and kind – heavy with understanding. And you hate it. 

“Perhaps you can help me understand what I did wrong with that pastry now?” he offers, standing slowly, offering you the hand that isn't holding the first aid kit. He is offering you a distraction, a way out of the spiraling thoughts weighing on you. Sighing, you nod.

“Okay.”

================

The rest of the day is calm, if not slightly awkward. Customer after customer filing in, seeing both of your states and immediately trying to figure out what happened and who would do such a thing. 

Some routine customers, patrons who live on the island, many are pirates who Sanji is heavily debating on if he should feed them Jeff’s name to let them deal with him. You are beloved, more so than you seem to realize as you just file around with a smile.

“Who did it?” one pirate asks, gruff and glowering as his eyes narrow on your wrist. As if sensing the topic, your head whips around, eyes zeroing in on Sanji with a slight pinch to them – a quiet warning that neither man misses. The pirate snorts, taking the neatly wrapped package from Sanji sending the blond man a motion. 

Later. 

Because of your wrist, Sanji has taken to doing all of the wrapping. And the lifting. And the stirring. 

At one point, you find yourself sitting and pouting at the counter like a dejected child. Your regulars chuckle at your antics, watching and admiring how well Sanji seems to have picked up the slack, swirling around you like a one man band.

He's doing the cooking, cleaning, baking – with your careful instruction – and often tending to the customers while you sit and watch. You hate how flawlessly he takes over, turning the quiet, calm atmosphere into something much more lively and brilliant. A change that many seem more than happy to lean into. His energy is quite infectious, despite the deep love for your gentle, quiet, care. 

One 

He counts to himself as he spins from one table to the other, placing a plate before the patrons with a grin and flourish as he spins away. 

Two

He sends a smile and a non-committal wink to the lovely older woman before him, earning a girlish giggle from her. The attention makes her feel the need to smooth her hair back, to check to make sure her appearance is in order. He and her husband chuckle as he sends the man a nod – a silent gesture that he means no harm. The older man just grins. 

“Blushing, honey?” The comment deepens her flush, earning a whack and a jovial laugh from the three of them. 

Three 

He finds himself nearly spinning himself into the wall to keep from toppling on top of the over exuberant body that flings through your door. Laughter echoes around you from the various tables as Sanji sputters to a stop with a confused pinch of his brows, and Peter finally finds himself settled before you with a grin. Laughing along with them, you put your hands out to steady the small body. 

“Peter!” you laugh, allowing the boy to fall into your arms happily. “You’re early for lunch” you coo. He tries his best to look sheepish, though it falls short. You don't catch how Sanji softens at your exchange with the small boy, already on your feet to gather the things you had been working on all morning. 

It had been the one thing you had been absolutely insistent on that you be the one to work on. 

Peter stands there politely, his arms pinned firmly behind his back, though the stance does little to distract from the way his body seems to vibrate from its need for movement. Smiling to himself, Sanji watches him try so hard not to move – to be good. He was always rewarded when he was good. Shifting before the counter, Sanji starts to help pack the items you bring to the front, humming happily. 

Peter is silent as he watches you both work together, a fact that you nearly comment on until he opens his mouth. His eyes flit between sanji and yourself before he speaks, a frown on his face, as if he is concentrating too hard.

“Are you her husband?” The question startles you both, and earns sharp laughter from the older couples lingering at the tables. Both of you are gapping at him, trying to find your answers to such a simple question.

“No, He’s-” you begin.

“I’m not-” Sanji starts, both of you fumbling over the quick denials. Peter doesn't concern himself with your obviously flustered states, eyes zeroing in on your wrist and Sanji’s jaw. 

“Who hurt you?” he asks bluntly. “Do I need to put a wanted poster back up?” The comment earns a harsh snort from Sanji, who in reality would love to make sure a poster for the overly confident, and abusive, merchant. But you won't let him, for whatever reason. He watches you retrieve a tartlet that you had set aside earlier, choosing to ignore Peter’s insistent gaze and his very blunt line of questioning. 

“Here.” you grumble, shoving the sweet thing into his hands. 

Almost immediately, he seems to drop the line of questioning, eager to shove his reward in his mouth, strawberry filling being smeared against his cheek. Laughing softly, you reach up to swipe the mess from his cheek, wiping it on your apron. 

“Messy boy,” you hum sweetly, earning a blinding smile from Peter, and unbeknownst to you, Sanji. “Come now,” you state, clapping your hands to your thighs to gather his attention again when it drifts to the pirate standing beside the counter. “I am sure your mother is hungry, as well.” Peter just grins, nodding quickly. 

“She loves your food.” he agrees, lifting his hand to present some berry to you. The same berry he has been trying to bully into your hands everyday for the last year, judging by the familiar tears. Shaking your head, you curl his fingers back around the money, ruffling his hair with love. 

“No,” you state simply, handing him the bag. He pouts a bit, shoving it back in his pocket.

“Tomorrow,” he huffs. You laugh, ignoring the pointed looks from those around you. Repeat customers know better, their eyes downcast though they do nothing to hide their smiles. Newer groups do little to hide their curious gazes. 

“We will see, little one. Now, off you go.” he just nods, taking off out of the door, though more carefully as to keep from spilling any of the food. In silence, you watch him go, smiling as he disappears into his mother’s shop. 

“You feed them,” Sanji comments softly after a moment. Blinking, you shrug, turning to take the remainder of what couldnt fit in the pack back to the kitchen. Sanji glances around, ensuring that everyone is cared for. No one seems to want to rock the gentle bubble created. 

They loved your gentle loving care. 

Without thought, he follows you into the kitchen, your voice barely reaching his ears as you busy yourself with tidying up. 

“Sometimes,” you agree. He watches you, Peter’s last comment echoing in his mind. 

Tomorrow.

“Daily,” he corrects you, his tone gentle. You pause, nose twitching, eyes narrowing – immediately on the defensive. 

“Listen,” you grouch, turning to glare at him, your ire catching him off guard. His hands lift quickly, hoping to show you that he means no harm, but you continue ranting though your irritation seems to fade. “If you're going to lecture me about business practices, making money or anything else – save it.” you sigh. 

“I didn't intend to do any such thing,” he assures you slowly, moving to take the knife from your hand, setting it back in the sink. You turn to face him more, arms crossed as you lean back against the counter. He doesn't force himself any closer, in fact, he backs off some, resting his hips to the other counter across from you. 

“What is your point, then, Rudy?” he snorts, his smile easing some of the tension in your shoulders. 

“How long?” he asks after a moment. You pause. 

“A year,” you sigh. “Maybe longer, at this point. I'm not sure.” he just nods. You expect many things, many questions. Why? What's the point? Why not make more money? Sell it at a discount. Poor business strategy. 

You weren't expecting the softness in his eyes, nor the gentleness of his touch when his hands settle on your shoulders, a quiet intensity burning in his eyes as he bends to maintain eye contact as he speaks. 

“What you're doing for them,” he starts slowly, as if trying to find the right words to convey how he feels. He struggles to find the words he wants –  his large vocabulary, the flowery words he peppers into every conversation, the seemingly endless stream of compliments. They all seem too small, too insignificant for how he's feeling, so he settles on, “it matters.” The sincerity behind the words startles you. 

Swallowing the emotion building in your chest, you force a smile, hand moving to rest over his as your head thumps to rest against his chest. You find yourself unable to take staring into the depths of his eyes any longer. The emotions swimming there crashing like a storm at sea, washing over you with their intensity. 

“It doesn't feel like it's enough,” you whisper, words thick as you hold back your tears, clutching at his shirt, an anchor in your storm. His arms shift from your shoulders to wind around your waist, tugging you deeper into his warmth, his chin coming to rest on top of your head. 

“I assure you,” he murmurs, flashes of Zeff and that blasted rock flickering behind his eyelids, a distant memory fading to various shades of gray where it had once been so vibrant. The only thing still flickering in color is Zeff before him, like a scene from an old movie. “It's everything.” 

==========

tag list: @fanaticsnail @sordidmusings @gingernut1314 @stray-kaz @short-honey-badger @ren-ni @rustypotatospork @@katiemrty @team--edward @gothgirl13 @terarria-sunflower

[augustinescruelsummer]

SPILT | CP10

IN WHICH Christian has to learn how to properly communicate and control his insecurities, or else he risks losing his favorite girl.

Christian Pulisic x F!Reader (She/Her)

WC: 3.6k (got carried away. sometimes I like writing.)

GENRE: angst -> fluff (my fav genre)

INCLUDES: jealousy (christian), odd dude, christian struggles to communicate his feelings, happy ending, reader puts christian in his place, healthy resolution of an argument, curse words

CLINK. The glass goes flying to the ground before her hand can reach out to grab it, the pieces splintering onto the hardwood floor. A gasp comes from the bartender at the mess. Her smile fades quickly, staring blankly down at the hazardous shards under her feet. She swallows nervously at the sharp cut edges enveloping her.

“I am so sorry,” the apologies begin flowing out of her mouth as the ongoing patrons turn their heads curiously at the commotion. Her head begins to go dizzy at all the attention. The spilt drink’s owner, a slim-built boy with a polo shirt and khakis, looks at her unaffected by the debacle.

“It’s seriously not a problem,” he says, his squeaky voice greasing her axnieties into a higher gear. She hops off her chair, crouching down to attempt to grab the pieces into her hand, refusing to get caught in a trap by a trust fund baby. The sliver of flirtation in his tone was causing her hot temper to flare alongside the boiling anxiety.

“Hey, hey!” The boy says pointedly, “Don’t do that. You’ll cut your hand open, we can’t have that.” He places a greasy hand onto her shoulder, the action causing her shoulder’s to jolt forward at the unwelcome touch. Her mind was racing over the spilt glass, her anxiety doing its best to remain present. Her mind was swimming of outlandish theories. Was the bartender going to banish her permanently? Would Chris be mortified if he saw the mess she made at his favorite celebration spot?

She had gotten here early to surprise him, after he informed her the team was going out to his favorite bar to celebrate his game-winning goal in overtime. She had watched from home, her heart beating like a drum as he the ball soared into the net at the last second, the camera catching a joyous Christian, the sight her favorite thing in the whole world. Greasy-hand waves his hands around frantically to call a busser over to aid with the cleanup, suddenly deciding to be concerned with the glass splitting open her fingers. She rolls her eyes at the action, he had spent the last three minutes ogling her form crouched over said glass. Probably a good thing it's on the ground now. Karma?

The female bartender manages to calm her down, informing her she would not, in fact, be removed from the bar for a simple accident. One that truly was not her fault. “He should have known better than to sneak up on you like a creep,” the bartender had added when she explained how it happened.

Greasy-Hand had decided to stop ogling and make his way over to her, placing his glass down in front of her by reaching over unexpectedly, without the slightest introduction. The random touch (sound familiar with this dude?) had caused her to send the glass flying onto the ground. She watched nervously as the kind woman swept the glass pieces up, sending warm smiles and reassurances as she huddled by the crime scene. Her nails were bitten down to the cuticle from the anxiety of the situation. She had completely zoned out in her own world, meaning she was unaware to the greasy hand lurking on her shoulder. The hand sent incredibly (un)welcoming feelings down her back, causing shivers to go down her spine at the circles being drawn, snapping her out of her trance. She removed the hand with a frown, looking into Greasy-Hand’s eyes. The notion made her miss Christian dearly, hoping he would walk into the door at any minute and put her frantic worrying to rest. 

Christian was yet to show up, and she sat at the bar with a downturned frown staring into the abyss of her whiskey glass. She unlocked her phone once again as Greasy-Hand jabbered on, searching for a sign from Christian. No texts, no calls.

“Excuse me,” she told Greasy-Hand without looking up from her phone, sliding off her barstool and into the bathroom. Her eyes were glued to her phone as she made her way into the women's restroom at the end of the hall. She didn’t even care if he was still in the middle of a sentence, the overwhelming fear that Christian had curved her was overwhelming. Was he leaving her? Her last message sat there, read.

From: Chris&lt;3

The team is going to The Hook soon. Potentially see you within the hour?

To: Chris&lt;3

Kk! See you soon!

Her message sat there delivered from two hours ago, the receipts showing he had read it thirty minutes following send. She locked her phone and fixed her hair in the mirror, hoping she didn’t look as anxious as she felt. Busying her hands with retucking her Pulisic jersey into her bra, she thought about her game plan. She was going to march out of this bathroom, turn Greasy-Hand down, and take her ass home to cry at Christian’s inability to properly communicate. Right. Sounds like a plan.

She swung the door open with a newfound confidence, finding Greasy-Hand still lurking by the bar. He was beginning to start rambling again, but she held a hand up, not allowing him to continue. 

“Look, I appreciate you looking after me when the glass shattered, but I’ve been stood up by my own boyfriend. I appreciate your rambling company while it lasted.”

What the fuck was that, she thought, that was so unsmooth.

Greasy-Hand, once again, placed that chilling hand on her shoulder and began another ramble about how happy he was to be able to fill Christian’s shoes. Which was not at all what she had just told him. Clearly he had missed the point.

“New couple alert?” A rich voice asks loudly as he approached the bar, irises darkened, locked in onto the greasy hand stealing the soul out of the circulation in her shoulder. Her stomach dropped at the sight of Christian, in his trousers and Team USA t-shirt pressed perfectly to him, an angry expression plastered on his beautiful face. She tried to communicate with her eyes, signaling nonverbally to the hand on her shoulder. Christian, in his immature fit, completely ignores the signs and continues to comment, his notorious green streak coming out mercilessly.

“I wish,” Greasy-Hand says to Christian, not realizing his importance in her life. She grimaces internally at his comment, hoping the bar floor would open up and swallow her whole. She would never have to face this level of embarrassment ever again. Christian sends him a tight lipped smile, leaning against the bar casually. “She’s quite the flirt, isn’t she?” He says to Greasy-Hand cooly, looking straight through her. The dropped stomach bottoms out, her blood turning cold at his insinuation. He slides his card across the hardwood to the awaiting bartender. She attempts to push his hand off her shoulder harshly, expression fading as he clamps it back down.

Christian, observing the struggle sharply, suddenly kicks back into a conscious state of mind, not consumed by his childish fit of jealous rage. “Let her go,” he barks angrily at the knockoff frat boy. He pockets his wallet before crossing over to the pair with two strides. Greasy-Boy grins wickedly, “I thought you were encouraging me to have a turn, though?” He spits mockingly at Christian, tightening the arm and pulling her into his sweaty body. Her face contorts with uncomfortable panic, Christian recognizing the signs of an upcoming panic attack. “I’ll split your fucking skull if that hand isn’t removed in five seconds,” he says calmly, grabbing his drink from the bartender without letting up eye contact. Greasy-Hand’s face pales, suddenly clicking the name on the back of her jersey and the man in front of him’s connection together. “That’s what I thought,” he smiles mockingly as the scared-shitless boy busies himself to the other corner of the bar.

Christian opens his mouth to being apologizing for his behavior, watching as she stares up at him with a blank expression, riddled with anxiety behind it. She doesn’t give him the chance, shoving off the hand encased over hers. “No boyfriend of mine will ever disrespect me like that!” She tells him, staring him daggers as her heel spins and marches towards the bar entrance. The cold air hits her the moment she steps outside, ignoring the calls of Christian after her. She manages to lose him during the short trip to their temporary flat, only a half mile away. She angrily twists the key into the lock, flinging it open. She knows Christian is not far behind her, because he never lets her walk home by herself at night, no matter how angry he is. She throws her shoes haphazardly, grabbing a fork and ice cream pint before marching up the stairs. The door opens hurriedly as she reaches the top of the stairs, making a dramatic show of slamming their bedroom door closed and locking it after.

He reaches the door in a matter of seconds, banging on the door to announce his presence. How kind. 

“Open the fucking door, baby.” 

She snorts internally at his false change of heart, opting not to respond. Secretly, she already is beginning to fold in her independent stride just by thinking about the tight fitted jersey. She stabs her utensil into the ice cream, letting out a groan when realizing she had grabbed a fork. “I know you’re in there,” he adds after hearing, to which she rolls her eyes. Can men just go away sometimes? “I don’t want to speak to you, Christian,” she says through gritted teeth, suddenly more concerned with how she was going to eat this ice cream with a fork. 

She thought he had gone away due to his silence, giving her peace to weigh the consequences of shoving her hands into the tub. Suddenly, the door knob began to shake and in comes her (not) knight in shining armor. 

“Did you just pick our fucking lock?!” She asks inquisitively, adding unsafe bedroom lock to her ongoing list of problems. 

“I’ll fix it later,” he shrugs nonchalantly, strolling his way into the bedroom like he owns the place. Well, I mean.

“That’s not really the issue here,” she sits up, waving her fork in his direction for emphasis, “what the hell am I going to do when someone breaks into the house and kills me because our LOCK can be picked with a hair pin.” 

Christian softly chuckles at the aggressive change in subject stealing the opportunity to come stand in front of her. “I’d be awake and ready to slaughter them before they even reached your side of the bed, sweetheart.” He softly runs his knuckles down her cheek, his thumb stroking her jawline. “Can I talk about what happened tonight?” 

“I thought you were leaving me,” she told him honestly, running the number ten pedant along its chain anxiously. “He reached over me and caused me to drop my glass, and I assumed he was talking to me because he felt bad for the accident. I wasn’t even focused on what he was saying, I was too worried on if I had done something to upset you, but then I realized there was nothing I could have done. See, I’m your number one fucking supporter, but your refusal to communicate with me and causing me unnecessary anxiety is getting old. Something has to change, Chris.” She shut her eyes, willing the tears to stay at bay and prove she was not going to back down into his touch. When they reopened, two tears simultaneously fell down, causing Christian to reach out and wipe them with his thumbs.

“Don’t cry, please. Not over me,” he said breathlessly, resting his forehead on hers. 

“How can I not?” She wailed, a sob overcoming her at the selfish statement. “My own boyfriend doesn’t even trust me? Instead of helping me out, he makes an assumption I’m cheating on him and humiliates me in a locally frequented bar? Instead of grovelling and mumbling your sorry-ass apologies you tell me not to cry over you? What else is there left to do Christian?”

Her head sits in her hands, a cry of frustration leaving her lips at his silence. Christian takes a step back, his mouth opening and closing. She begins to grab her pillow and blanket, gathering them up into her arms. He reaches out to grab her arm, “This conversation is far from over.” His tone was soft, but the words enraged her even more. “If I remember correctly, a conversation takes two people. Sitting there and gaping like a fucking fish because I finally put you in your place is not that.”

“Jesus Christ, I just need a moment to put my thoughts together!” He exclaims, running a hand through his hair. 

“Christian, don’t you dare start raising your voice at me as a way of deflection because you’re too fucking scared to put your pride aside and own up to your own actions.”

She breezes past him, the door slamming in her exit. Christian stands in her wake, the room suddenly way too cold and empty. “Fuck!” He screams out, standing in silence by himself in the shared room. His heart races in his chest, hands shaking. 

They both go through their nightly routines on separate sides of the apartment, the unresolved argument somehow causing tension even with the distance. Christian can practically feel the knots in his back and his chest, from the thought of losing you and intensive soccer. He brushes his teeth in the mirror for the first time without you somewhere near him, his heart dipping at the realization as he spits into the bowl. He shuts the lamp off and climbs into the cold bed, a sigh and a singular tear escaping him once he realizes he can’t roll over and pull you into his side. 

He’d been wallowing in his own mistakes and tears when the bedroom door creaked open slightly, the light from the hallway illuminating her face. She was wrapped in their favorite blanket, her makeup smeared down her face, making his heart twist into knots. The sight of her looking so distraught made every part of his body set on fire in fury at himself. “Hi baby,” he croaks, his voice raspy from crying, “Are you ok?” She stuffs her hands into his men’s national team hoodie, taking a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you I love you,” she says, her voice cracking halfway through. He swears his heart simultaneously cracks and heals at the words, knowing he still has a shot at fixing things. “I love you,” he responds, sitting up in the bed that now seemed way too massive for him.

She tried to ignore the way her heart dipped at the sight of him, his curls sticking up in every way, his shirtless torso somehow gleaming from the minor light. She knew it was a bad idea, and she was still no where near being over the events, but somewhere in her brain she knew neither of them would be sleeping tonight without each other. She also knew it was essential for her to uphold her golden rule of life, always tell the person you love them. Her feet pad over to the edge of the bed, now standing in front of Christian’s side. He scoots over hopefully, outstretching his arms nervously. She climbs straight into them, snuggling her face into his chest. 

He grabs onto her tighter than he ever had before, his fingers gracefully scratching up and down her back. He reaches his head down and presses a chaste kiss to her collarbone, his light stubble and the sensitivity of the area making her giggle. He switches them into a spooning position, his leg locking over her to freeze her in place. “So you don’t run away in the morning and I can give you the best apology you’ve ever heard.” She lets out a complacent laugh, easing his heart into a stable beating.

The morning sun woke Christian up instantly, the golden light illuminating his golden eyes. He attempts to not get completely sidetracked by her and the way morning light makes her angelic. Although, to him, she always looks that way. He tumbles out of bed, the events of the night prior rolling through his head. “God, I’m a dick,” he mumbles to himself walking down the stairs, straight into the kitchen. Acts of service, he recalled in his head as he unloaded the mini waffle maker. He tended to be an awful cook, but his relationship was riding on these damn waffles. 

6 failed attempts at waffle batter later, he had three relatively presentable waffles to give his lady. He prided himself on his ability to make coffee for you, and was not about to break his hot streak. If even, this coffee would be his best. After plating his masterpieces into an appetizing breakfast, he wandered into the laundry room. He stared down into the hamper with a scrunched nose. “Jesus,” he mutters as he catches a whiff of his soccer clothes. He picks up his jersey from last night, holding it outstretched with one hand before taking a risky sniff. “Dear God,” he says at full volume, shaking his head at your poor soul doing his laundry for him. “I’m a grown fucking man making my girlfriend do my laundry, especially my soccer clothes. What the fuck is wrong with me?” He says as he throws a tide pod into the fresh load of disgusting soccer clothes, shaking his head at his own antics. He turns to the dryer, taking out specifically your clothes and folding them into neat little piles according to article of clothing. She had so many clothes it seemed like a load of laundry was his whole closet. He grabbed her favorite hoodies out of the dryer as well, throwing them into her pile. His fingers snag on a flashy undergarment, humming to himself. “Hope I get to see this soon.”

Christian plasters a smile on his face a half hour later. The dishes have been unloaded, he folded and put your laundry up, and is now carrying up your homemade breakfast to the shared room. He gently shakes you awake after pit stopping in the bathroom, making sure he smelled of her favorite aftershave. Christian also spent a considerable chunk of time analyzing his sleeve of tattoos, silently willing them to look extra attractive today. He gave a quick flex before walking out and shaking you awake. 

She wakes up groggily, her hair a knot on the top of her head, the soft material of Christian T-shirt almost putting her back o sleep instantly. The sight of Christian, shirtless with her favorite sweatpants of his laying low on his hips jolts her awake. He sets the plate and coffee down on the nightstand, a sheepish smile on his face. “I believe the panel would like to hear me give a speech.” You laugh lightheartedly at his joke, dramatically motioning for him to continue. Coffee in hand you tilt your head up at his nervous expression, “Your beloved panel is ready to continue.”

He runs his hands threw his hair one last time before giving himself a quick pep talk. I can do this. It’s not like her breaking up with me is my greatest fear. That’s not going to happen, though, because I’m about to prove how great of a man I am. “I lost my shit last night for no good reason. I have no backing for why I did what I did, beside the fact that I can be petty and have a gnarly green streak. Those are not, and will never be in this relationship, a valid reason for the way I behaved. I’m apologizing not because I just want you to forgive me, but because I want you to know that I hold your love and trust like it’s the most important thing in the world, and last night I didn’t show that. I love you for many reasons, but especially for your ability to challenge me to consistently be a better man for you and prove that you deserve the finest. I appreciate you keeping me In check more than you know. I know I’ve been lacking recently, and I can only say the fast paced change to AC Milan Is draining all of my energy. You didn’t know that, though, because of my dumbass’s inability to communicate, which is going to change. We’re a team and I need to treat us as such. Safe to say I will be keeping my green monster in check from now on, because you mean more than anything to me. I have a streak of insecurity and that was what took over me last night, even though it was my fault you were left alone. My inability to communicate my feelings and plans to you is changing, and I’ll prove it to you.”

A moment of silence enraptured the room, her jaw falling open in shock. Christian communicated his feelings. The first step in progress. “I folded and put away your laundry, started a new load, and undid the dishwasher. Just the beginning of proving how committed I am to this relationship and keeping it strong on my part, which I’ve been failing at.” What the fuck, Chris? She takes a long slurp from her irresistible coffee, staring up at him through the mug. He nervously shifts from foot to foot, and maybe it made her sick, but she was partly enjoying him squirm over losing her. It made a woman feel powerful, what can she say? She sets the mug down, silent tension cutting the room.

“Christian,” her voice cuts through, with a chiding tone that made his heart start palpitating. “Kiss me and prove it further.”

—

babe wake up augustinescruelsummer finally fucking wrote again.

[alicelufenia]

Just finished Book 5 and holy shit there is so much

Before getting into the spoilers, I feel like this is my favorite book so far, even squeezing out over 2.

This was an absolutely packed installment but let me just start with this: I got into this series for Catherine Foundling (and don't get me wrong I'm still in for her, and she was amazing in this book), but I think I'm finishing for Akua.

Like how did I go from "FUCK YOU AKUA SAHELIAN" to "HOLY SHIT I LOVE AKUA SAHELIAN" in just 2 books? Granted I was already getting on board with book 4, but this sealed it; I anticipate amazing things happening with her character (will it end positive, I honestly don't know, but the fact I could see it going either way and it'd seem right makes me so excited)

The fact she just sorta has a body now for all intents and purposes and has to interact with others already is interesting. And Catherine's change in attitude towards her was a pleasant surprise. Things changed so much between Cat, Akua and Indrani after the Everdark.

I'm still a little unclear, but when Sve Noc took Winter's mantle, Catherine lost that collared control over Akua, but despite the chance to slip free she stayed. And most likely saved Archer's life after the big battle. So like it or not Cat can't help but harbor some fondness for the shade. And thus begins what I'm thinking of as "redemption as long price", where Cat's stopped randomly torturing Akua (if she even can anymore), and instead threatens to teach her to care about other people so there's a sense of loss and regret when she finally kills her some day. WTF that's so messed up Cat and I am SO ON BOARD.

And it doesn't involve like, forcing her to do anything she wasn't already doing (being useful to Cat), but also just treating her with respect and dignity, inviting her to friend gatherings, and it seems to be working cause it's painful in a way she's not used to dealing with. This woman barely made a sound when Black made her stab herself, now she's getting bent out of shape at the fact that people were genuinely welcoming, and didn't give her the cold shoulder at a campfire gathering.

Now I know there are spoilers out there, and you don't compare a character to Zuko Avatar the Last Airbender lightly, so for now all I know for certain is, there's payoff, and people have written essays on her character. So I'll take that for the invitation to plow through the last few books that it is and see for myself. But I think she may be my 2nd favorite now, and may gun for that #1 by the time we're done. Will just have to see. And then the rewrite novels are coming out this year, and there's the webtoon AAAHJHHHDKSH

So if you thought I was obsessed with this series before, oh boy we've got so much more to look forward to. I still need to find the ttrpg someone was working on.

Moving on from Akua, I absolutely LOVE High Priestess of the Everdark Catherine! She's so fuckin cool with the staff and night powers and her strange relationship to her patron sister goddesses. You'd think being beholden to a pair of ritual murder goddesses would be more of a problem then holding Winter's mantle, but if anything the return to mortality was the best thing that ever happened to her. She's so much calmer and collected now, she's doing real diplomacy, actually trying to minimize deaths on both sides (while admittedly riding on her infamy for intimidation), and while she doesn't exactly worship Sve Noc, she does a great job as a religious leader to the drow (even calls them "my people" a few times). I'm just saying finding faith did a lot of good for her, and she still technically doesn't worship Below.

The fanart is also really sick (love how the Cloak of Woe frames this whole piece!)

Anyway, while my opinion of Akua changed dramatically, I have been in Tyrant's corner from the moment he appeared in the book 1 epilogue. And then book 5 catapults him to possibly the best Villain in this entire series! That this Saturday morning goofball who operates on cartoon logic earned that accolade is a testament to the writing in this series, and his eternal friendship with Cat was a treat from start to finish.

Everyone wanted Kairos dead from first meeting, he betrayed everyone and everything constantly, and he STILL got what he wanted in the end, and even managed to leave Cat a gift when one of his generals joins her army afterwards. Everyone may have been his eternal friend, but I think what Kairos had with Catherine was special. She was the only one to really understand him, to the point where she almost misses him despite him being The Worst. It makes my twisted zenoswol heart go pitter patter.

Speaking of romance, Archer and Cat! NOT romantic as they both insist, but, I'm still going to count it for the fact they care deeply for each other. They even have a fight early on that is exactly the kind of thing I was looking for earlier, where a couple has a disagreement that they work through together. Indrani had a brush with mortality in the Everdark, plus with Catherine now nameless and a mortal, she throws a fit at her for risking her life recklessly still, knowing one mistake can lead to a sword through her throat and that's it for her.

And they have a serious talk about it because it's just as much Indrani afraid for herself too, as she comes from a toxic background where she was taught to rely only on herself, and if her best isn't enough someday then she's a failure. Cat has to show her that it's her mortality that grounds her now, her limp meaning she won't wield a sword and shield anymore so she can't just stab every problem. And they have a real heart to heart over it! Which pays off much later when Indrani gets jibbed by the Dead King, and even though the Grey Pilgrim revives her, she still put her life on the line to save Masego, whatever the risk.

So, to sum up the Woe Polycule:

Cat and Indrani are friends with benefits

Cat Looks Respectfully at Akua while facing the camera and shaking her head to indicate she doesn't approve

Indrani will literally kill for either of them

Cat and Hakram have no physical attraction yet are soulmates to the degree getting married would be an insufficient reflection of what they have

Indrani and Masego have a non physical, non romantic friendship based on mutual curiosity and horizon seeking

I don't really know where Vivienne fits in yet, but she gets along much better with Hakram now that she's accepted the loss of her name

I'd also like to note, while the series has kept well to its YA roots and never gets too descriptive past a fade to black, we do at least get a couple hints from banter between Cat and Archer as to what the former likes in bed. That being she "likes it rough", enjoys having her hands tied, and her hair pulled. Which I mean, nice, and makes sense to me considering how much she needs to maintain control in her life, that giving up a little when intimate is appealing to her.

I'm happy for these beautiful, emotionally broken sweethearts.

Again speaking of, the Grey Pilgrim! This was the book where Cat really starts interacting with heroes in a sense that they're not trying to kill her all the time. Which makes sense cause they need every hero on their side they can get to fight the Dead King, so it's time for that new brand of Foundling diplomacy. By which I mean she keeps making good faith attempts at working together but SO many heroes don't seem to realize you can't treat an ally like a bound enemy and be surprised when they snap at you.

And don't get me wrong, Tariq does get better, but some of these heroes you'd think if a villain told them "You're lucky I was there to save you or you wouldn't be alive" and somehow take that as a threat. And I get it! I've played, watched, and read countless heroic stories, and even when the villain gives heartfelt speeches, the heroes still oppose them because the story makes them right anyway. And if the heroes otherwise would empathize with the villain's plea, it's during their dying scene. It's how these stories work. And then you've got this story, with a villain protagonist who keeps trying to reach out, whom we see all of her inner thoughts, justification, and doubts, and more likely than not gets slapped down out of political necessity, or by a hero who wants to ignore what she says and focus on her evil darkness night magic. Hell I'd be frustrated too! Frankly everyone in Procer ought to be lucky her lakeomancy days are over.

Then who does Cat meet but Hanno the White Knight, the chillest champion of Above ever, and I think the first hero to actually try talking to her first. Granted they met on good terms, but he actually hears her out, and gives a good explanation to how he utilizes Judgement the fairest he can. He even listens to what she has to say about the Liesse Accords, finds a lot to like. And then says he was warned she'd be charming and silver tongued. And she's nervous at first, until he clarifies he likes what she's proposing and understands it's not all her own ideas, he's just holding off committing himself even if that's his impulse. And it makes sense she'd flinch cause she's so used to getting burned by heroes when she's trying so hard.

I was so nervous that Hanno was gonna bite it by the very end, but I think losing Judgement was an interesting development for him. Shoutout to Hierarch for being so crazy about laws of the people and by the people and for the people, that he pulls a "if you can't beat them, join them" on the Choir of Judgement, and becomes the divine obstructionist. We'll never know how Catherine would have been judged with White Knight's coin, but after these two became allies I think I trust Hanno's judgement more than I ever trusted Judgement.

We end on a dire but oddly hopeful point. Neshamah will continue his war, Black is gone, back to the Wasteland to kneel before Malicia (and is back with Hye ugggh I don't like it, but I guess we're learning more about the Lady of the Lake soon), most of the League have dropped out, the Legions-in-exile got brain jacked to return as well, all the highest officers in the Callowan army are suspect (which means poor eternally suffering Abigail now has to cope with being—temporary—Marshal. But the Principate stands, a united front of Procerans, Callowans, and Dominion will face the Dead King, Vivienne is heiress-regeant to Cat's queenship, and, for better or worse, Tariq and Hanno can both feel Cat is on the verge of a Name. That I'm super excited for; I could see her rejecting and remaining nameless, but if she does come into one I can see her gaining a Name reflecting her goals of peace across Calernia, so not Squire or Black Night, but something like an enforcer of international law and rules of engagement. A neutral name similar to Ranger or Archer, that can be heroic or villainous depending on the story, for isn't that how it always seems to go for her.

I guess I'll find out on the last (but not actually the last) book!

[bitchfitch]

The town called Starfall looked exactly like every other Tago had passed through since escaping and that made his scales chafe. A sandy main road lined with businesses preying on the ranch hands of the surrounding lands. A sky that never held clouds. An energy of everyone distrusting the outsider amongst them even as they smiled and welcomed him to open his wallet in this boot shop or that inn.

It was to be his home for however long it took for him to be chased out again. Coco, his dear mare, deserved a stable to call her own after all she'd been through getting him here.

There'd been a stranger in town for a week now and no one thought to warn Whiskey about it. That had them getting short with every patron that they knew had met the new snake in their midst. Whiskey may not be elected like the mayor or sheriff, but there was no denying that Starfall was Their town. They were who it was named after, if anyone cares.

Sure, people didn't Usually need to tell them when a stranger was passing through, but the snake had hidden himself so fully it wasn't until their daddy sent him to drop off a cart of new stock that they even knew he existed.

He was tall. Whiskey didn't like that. What's a man need to be that tall for? Scaled with eyes like a cottonmouth, snake inside and out this one. And he wore a thick rag tied around the lower half of his face and another over the top of his head, his hat holding it in place and making it look like long hair from a distance. Whiskey didn't like that either. What's he hiding?

He's hiding a lot that is. Whiskey could tell you every little thought that happened in this town, but this snake? Not a single hint as to what was going on in that bald head. They could feel the outline of his mind like coils wrapped around a rat so they knew he Had one. They just didn't get to see it.

It didn't help one bit that the snake stared. The entire time Whiskey was counting over the stock of bottles and jars to make sure this "Tago" fellow didn't pocket anything he just stared at them. Kept his head down so his eyes were in the shade.

"Uh, my apologies. I was only told one of y'all's name..." he finally drawled out. He had a nice voice, Whiskey didn't like that.

"It's Whiskey, Whiskey Rivers," they responded using both of their mouths. He should know they were only one person even if they weren't connected. If he weren't guarded against them he wouldn't have even had to ask such an awkward question.

"Both of you- uh- I uh, I've never met twins with the same name," he scratched the back of his neck, "Tis nice name. I get why your folks would use it twice?"

""We" aren't twins. I'm Whiskey. That's me too," they pointed to themselves dismissively. "Whatcha take from this?"

"Nothing Ma'am- I mean Sir I mean-"

"Just Whiskey is fine."

"Nothing Whiskey. I'm real grateful to your father for giving me work, I'm not stealing anything from you all."

They eyed him up. They didn't like not being able to see in his head one bit.

"What's wrong with you?"

"What-"

"I asked, what's wrong with you? There's something going on no hiding it. I can tell you aren't right. Anyone else? I can see inside their head no problem, but You? It's like youve got nothing. I can't tell if you're lying or telling the truth."

Tago wilted the entire time they spoke. his polite and straight posture curling and getting tense as he finally looked away.

"Nothing I did. Promise. I don't know what would cause it. My adopted mother, she was a witch. Must've done something to me," he rambled. "I got to go, just let me unhitch Coco and I'll be out your hair."

"Mhh -hmm. Get," Whiskey kept an eye on him the entire time he got his horse free from their daddy's cart. He moved quick and it made his jacket ride up just enough to flash the handle of the shiny revolver he had tucked in his pants.

"What a man like you need a gun like that for?"

"Uh-" his hand went to pull his jacket back over it, "It was a gift. I'm a good shot. I promise I don't mean to start any trouble in your town."

"Let me guess. You don't mean to start nothing but trouble finds you anyway?"

"Yeah, something like that..."

The next time Whiskey saw that Tago fellow he was being true to his word, at least.

It wasn't that trouble had a tendency to find Tago, more so it was that trouble is hunting him down to collect on a bounty no amount of begging for his life could match.

Today trouble looked like two of the ranch owners spotting him while he was walking down to the Starfall Saloon to drop off a gift for Whiskey on behalf of their daddy.

The two men didn't make their approach subtle. Tago could have pulled Missy out of where he kept her holstered and ended the encounter before it began, but he was liking his life here too damn much. Maybe he was mishearing them. maybe he wasn't the snake faced motherfucker they were looking for. Maybe he could make it to the saloon before they worked up their courage.

He walked faster, kept his shoulders straight. The soft blue painted doors were in his sight. No fighting on the saloon, Whiskey may not like him, but they seemed the sort to not let their rules be crossed.

Rapid steps behind him and then a shock of pain through his jaw as he was tackled through the saloon doors. Tago managed to stop his fall, but the impact with the floor sent a knife of agony up his bad arm. He twisted in the grip around him. Instinct more than active thought driving him to snap at the face of his assailant. His fangs closed around nothing but his own face cover. The rancher having pulled back in time to avoid a lethal bite. Tago's head wrang as the brute knocked his head back against the wood boards with a mighty strike. His knuckles bruising the skin under Tago's scales.

"What do you lot think you're doing!?" Whiskey was there. Both of their halves grabbing the brave rancher by the back of his shirt and hauling him off Tago like he weighed nothing. "What's my one rule Steve? It's no fighting in my damn saloon."

They shoved him back, Tago couldn't pick his head up to watch. The room was spinning bad enough to make him feel like he was back in his home river getting whipped along by hidden currents.

"There's a bounty on that one worth a 100 head herd-"

"And do that mean you get to break my rule? No. Out! Stevenson you too, I want to see none of either of you until you learn your damn manners."

One half of them, the one Tago had mistaken for a man, comes to bend over him, their nighttime black eyes squinted as they tried to decide what to do with him while the lady half dealt with the ranchers.

Tago's head was too fuzzy to put two thoughts together, but he'd come here for a reason dammit. He reached into his jacket to pull the small, slightly crushed, parcel he'd been sent to deliver. Holding it up to them as his vision started to go grey.

"Y-your d-daddy sends h-his regards."

[museywrites]

Xiantober 2023 - Day 5: InnKeeper!Xian

Word Count: 1,149 Pairing: Wangxian Tags: InnKeeper Wei Ying, Prince Lan Zhan, meet-cute, flirty Lan Zhan

A soft sigh left Wei Ying's lips as he cleaned down the bar for the fiftieth time that night. 

Normally, Suibian Inn and Tavern was loaded with patrons, bustling with traveling merchants, and crowded with gossiping travelers. It was what he loved the most about running the place. He loved the hustle and bustle, the steady flow of rumors, gossip, and cash.

But for the past three days, the whole town had virtually deserted, and there was no chance of anyone coming through for a few more days at least.

Apparently, some big shot prince was having a grand party to find a bride. Pah! Who needs a party to find a bride?! The whole continent was pretty much invited, commoners included, so everyone hightailed it for a chance at the crown. 

Wei Ying had no desire to go.

So when the bell rang as the door was pushed open, Wei Ying nearly let out a surprised scream. Thankfully, he refrained, maintaining what little dignity he had.  

He did jump though, but no one was witness to see it, so it never happened.

Silver eyes watched as the cloaked figure made their way into the tavern. "Welcome to Suibian Inn and Tavern. You're quite a ways away from the festivities, yeah? I don't think you'll make it." 

"Oh, no... I'm trying to avoid them." The stranger admitted, removing his hood.

The glass in Wei Ying's hands hit the ground with a violent sound, shattering into hundreds of pieces and causing both to jump. 

"Ah, shit, that was my favorite glass.. hng, damn butterfingers." He scoffed, moving to grab the broom.

Who knew seeing someone so stunning would cause such a problem? He had not been prepared for such beauty!! 

"Avoiding the ball, huh? That's odd. Didn't everyone wanna go?"

"You're here." 

"I have a business to run." He countered. "Besides. The prince is looking for a bride."

He hummed. "Not some bar keep." 

"Was the party not extended to everyone?" 

"Oh, it was, but let's be real. What prince is gonna pick a  peasant. It's all just a formality. So I'm fine staying here. Besides! I'm pretty sure I'm the only Inn open for miles."

"Mm, I've passed several, they are all closed."

Wei Ying grinned and finished cleaning up the glass. "So tell me, gorgeous, what can I get for you? An ale? A hot meal? A room? Maybe me?" He winked. 

"Sounds like a rare house special. How much for all four?" He countered.

For a moment, the innkeeper was stunned. No one ever took his flirting seriously!!! And for someone to be /this/ good looking?!

Wei Ying eyed him suspiciously. "You're not some crazy murderer, yeah? That why you're avoiding the capital?"

Surprise colored the man's face before he huffed a soft laugh. "No, not at all, I assure you."

"Oh, assure me, do you?" He grinned. "Alright. Three silvers and you can have a drink, a room, and a meal~ that fourth option you gotta work a little harder for. Can't just be cute."

"You think I'm cute?" The man questioned, raising a brow with the faintest hint of a smirk and Wei Ying felt his knees go weak.  

He sputtered wildly and flicked his rag in the attractive patron's direction. "Aren't you cheeky~?"

He turned and grabbed a wooden pint mug, but before he could fill it, the man cleared his throat a little. "On second hand.... can I just have some water?" 

Wei Ying popped his hip and cocked a brow. "What? Why water? I've got all the best alcohols in the land!" He grinned.

"I even have the best of the best, emperor's smile~ all the way from the capital." 

"I... do not handle alcohol well." 

Wei Ying blinked at him a few dozen times before he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, you're cute! Alright. I'll be nice. Water it is."

"I would rather remember my night if I get to spend it chatting with someone so lovely." 

Once more, Wei Ying was left sputtering as he slammed the mug of water down and busied himself working. "Alright, charmer, what'll you have to eat?"

"I am guessing you are not on the menu?"

Wei Ying all but tripped over his feet and looked at him with a flushed face. "I... you.... I walked into that." He cleared his throat and gestured to the menu. "So... what's your name, charmer?"

"You can call me A-Zhan.""

"Well, A-Zhan~ you can call me Wei Ying. You lemme know what you'd like to eat and I'll whip it up."

He nodded and did just that.

Wei Ying disappeared into the back to prep the meal and when he realized he was getting no conversation out of the other while he ate, so he busied himself with cleaning the already spotless tavern.

After, the two found themselves sitting side by side, Wei Ying telling A-Zhan all about the beautiful places he had been to in the kingdom before he settled here with his tavern.

"Sounds like you're quite the adventurer."

"Perhaps! But what about you?"

"I do not get out much, sadly. Though... I am forever grateful I decided to come here tonight~"

Wei Ying cleared his throat before he stood and made his way to the front door. He locked up and slipped over to a board behind the bar and grabbed a metal key.

A-Zhan watched him curiously, but when Wei Ying moved to the steps and tipped his head, he followed eagerly.

The pair made it to the bedroom and Wei Ying barely had time to unlock the door before he was pressed to the smooth wood.

The sound of the door slamming shut was certainly not the last sound heard echoing through the quiet inn that night.

The next morning, the pair lay in one another's arms, sharing lazy kisses as Wei Ying snuggled up to the perfectly sculpted chest.

"So, A-Zhan..."

"Mn?"

"How are you going to explain to the kingdom that you ditched your own bridal ball~?"

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Wh-what? How did you--"

Wei Ying laughed, his eyes shimmering in delight. "Everyone knows our Prince's name is Lan Zhan,

and your cloak has the royal insignia on it."

The prince's ears went red and he frowned. "I apologize, I did not mean to deceive you--"

"Hush." Wei Ying kissed him sweetly. "I'm not mad, but I am curious how you're gonna get out of trouble for this~"

"I will simply tell them I was with my bride all night~" He grinned lightly, rolling so he was on top of Wei Ying

once more.

The room quickly filled with giggles and soon after, moans as the prince and the innkeeper enjoyed each other's company.

When wedding bells chimed no more than four months later, the kingdom was in shock to see the chatty innkeeper at his side~

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 1 replay, wrapping up Artemis Tau and Hawking Eta:

Sparta:

-Antalya once had an atmosphere and liquid. Now the atmosphere is stripped and the liquid is frozen. No one's sure why. Could it have been the Reapers?

-There's a bio-dome in an asteroid with a Prothean disc. Were they possibly hiding from the Reapers?

-Why can't the distress beacon be disabled? Yes, I killed the Thresher Maw, but that's optional. Maybe we should turn it off so no one else gets lured into Thresher Maw territory?

-What's up with that burning Mako? If it's from the team that got killed, why is it on fire? It's no where near the Thresher Maw

-Why do I need to travel to the Citadel to inform Kahoku? He's been on the phone this whole time. Can't I call him?

-Cerberus is Alliance black ops in ME1, only recently went rogue, and is cartoonishly evil. ME2 retcons a hell of a lot.

Macedon

-Patavig is suitable for Volus colonization. So the Alliance is negotiating it with their patrons, the Hierarchy.

I was not expecting that. You'd think the Volus, the setting's merchant race, could handle their own negotiations about planet rights.

If they can't - no wonder they don't have a Council seat. If they can't even handle negotiations for their own species, how can they make decisions for others?

-Shepard to Dahlia: You should have trusted me.

Dahlia to Shepard: We have trust issues in my family.

That got a cackle. I wish Dahlia had come back, I quite like her.

Athens

-What were the original plans for this system? It's the only that has no planet to land on or ship to explore. Surely something must have been intended for it. What was that, and why was it left in as it is?

Century:

-According to Hackett, Kyle convinced his followers that the Alliance is the source of all their problems.

I don't think he's entirely wrong. Kaidan suspects that several element zero exposures were intentional. The early amp implants cause all kinds of problems. Brain camp killed several kids and traumatized the hell out of the rest.

The only place that will reliably welcome biotics is the military. That's not the Alliance's fault, but are they making any steps to improve the perception of biotics to the rest of humanity?

-Hackett wants Kyle brought back for treatment. How accurate is that? He's responsible for the death of two Alliance negotiators.

The wiki doesn't specify what happens if Kyle is persuaded to surrender. Is he actually treated for PTSD, or thrown in a cell?

-Klendagon's Great Rift is from a Mass Accelerator 37 million years ago.

I think the general assumption is that this from whatever killed the Derelict Reaper. Is that confirmed anywhere?

-Gotta love Shepard. (Fine, me, but it's not like the game gave me renegade points.) Finds prefab buildings and loots them before finding out the status of the inhabitants. Hope they didn't need those supplies!

-I think the game in general doesn't do enough to convey how charismatic Shepard must be. The blue paragon options just don't seem special enough, for example, to talk Kyle around when the negotiators weren't able to.

Squad Talks

-I think something is bugged. Garrus, Wrex, and Tali all talk as if we're near the end game. I've done one main mission!

-Garrus: Will we ever find Saren?

Good question, since I haven't actually been trying to do that. Sorry Garrus, there are a lot more UNC worlds to visit.

-Garrus seems to take Saren's actions very personally. He wants Saren dead. Is this really just because Saren's a rogue spectre? It feels like they have a history, but the games never indicate such.

-Why is Garrus's dialogue handled so differently than the others? Wrex and Tali have investigate options you can always check. They update through the game. With Garrus, it's always a new conversation or just "Shepard".

-Wrex is so burned out at this point. He's given up on everything. Despite what he says, he clearly doesn't like killing Krogan mercenaries when they're numbers are so low. But he's so depressed he'll do it anyway.

-Tali: "Near the end with Saren"??? Tali, we haven't even seen him yet. All we've done is find Liara, and that was a dead end.

Citadel:

-Using Conrad's wife to talk him out of becoming a spectre is amusing, given that in ME3 his wife isn't real. No wonder he's so confused when you bring her up.

-There aren't any human merchants on the Citadel except Dr. Michel. Intentional, to show how new humanity is?

-The armor humans and Asari can wear is called human armor. Is that just a human convention?

The Asari have been around much longer than humanity. Does everyone else call it Asari armor, and think it's weird that it just happens to fit humans too?

Or is Shepard just too cheap to buy Liara proper armor? :) You have Barrier, Liara! My old armor is close enough, put it on and throw barrier up. You'll be fine.

-The inventory micromanaging in ME1 is exhausting. I dislike how ME2 eliminates nearly all of it, but ME1 had so much room for improvement. There were so many small tweaks they could have made to improve the experience.

[agwitow]

I should have been more careful when I stumbled my way into the rural tavern after a long day's work. But I was tired. Utterly and completely exhausted.

It had been two-and-a-half months since the heroes swept through and defeated the lich responsible for the plague that'd devastated the country for over a year. Two-and-a-half months since the oppressive magic lifted and healing magic worked again. And just over a month since the Sol Clerics finished the massive undertaking of healing the afflicted.

And that was that.

At least... that's what the heroes and clerics and royal councils believed. Stars and salt, even most commoners believed it too. But no one remembered, or wanted to remember, that just because the disease was purified didn't mean all of its effects were reversed.

Once-healthy people still struggled to breathe, or fell sick from the slightest of things, or found themselves so much weaker in so many different ways from before. Which was why I, and people like me, were still working so hard.

It didn't excuse my carelessness though.

"Is that what I think it is?" the barmaid asked, setting down a bowl of stew and tankard of mead.

I glanced down at my chest and muttered a curse under my breath. The symbol of the Eternal Night hung from a simple leather cord, glinting dully in the lantern light. I quickly stuffed it back under my shirt and looked back at the barmaid, uncertain whether I'd have to run or fight my way out of there.

"You're a follower of Death, yeah?"

I winced. "The Guardian of the Eternal Night is my patron, yes."

She tsked. "Never understood why you lot felt the need to pretty it up like that. Your god is the God of Death. Calling 'em the Eternal Night--"

"Guardian of the Eternal Night," I interjected.

She waved a hand dismissively. "Either way, doesn't hide the fact that you're a follower of death."

"Do you need me to leave?"

"Eh, whatever you want. As long as you don't cause problems in here, your coin is as good as the next person's."

I couldn't help but sigh with relief. I'd be able to eat and rest a bit before needing to make an escape. After all, she might not care about my presence (so long as I was a paying customer), but that didn't mean the other locals would be anywhere near as accepting.

"So, are you a necromancer, then?"

"What?"

She gestured at me, silently indicating the symbol I'd hidden. "You lot tend to be necromancers, yeah? That or bloodthirsty warriors, but you don't look like the fighting type. No offense."

I blinked. "No, I'm not either of those things. And no true believer would ever practice necromancy."

"But you're a follower of the God of Death!"

"Shh!" I glanced around the tavern, scanning for anyone who might have heard her, but none of the other patrons seemed to be paying us any mind.

"Well? What did you mean by that?"

I sighed again, though this time because I knew my peaceful evening was about to become incredibly frustrating. "The Eternal Night -- death, as you so blithely call it -- is a blessing. To pervert it by reanimating corpses? No. One would have to have no respect for death and the dead to do something like that."

"What's so great about dying? I mean, there's not much great about being a walking corpse either, but I can see why some might be drawn to it."

I shook my head. "Death can be a tragedy. But at the end of a long life, it is a comfort and reward. The Guardian is there to welcome those who cross over, to listen to their stories, and guide them to the River Lethe so they might some day be reborn."

"I suppose such a being wouldn't think too highly of necromancers," the barmaid conceded. "But surely fierce warriors, those who send hundreds upon hundreds of souls to your god, are favoured?"

"Not really. The teachings... they emphasize the importance of living a long life. The longer the life, the more stories we will have to share with the Guardian."

The barmaid frowned, though in the way one does when rethinking something they thought they knew rather than the way one does when they are annoyed by a differing point of view. "So... what is it that your ilk do, then?"

"We heal people. We are doctors."

“So, your patron is the God of Death?” Yeah. “So, are you a necromancer? A great Warrior?” …Nah, I’m a Doctor.

[whispersofwonderlandofficial]

Hello, Traveler. Welcome to my little shop in the void. Did you get lost?

This is the first teaser video for the Whispers of Wonderland series that I'm making, in which I introduce some of the concept of the story through the title character, Whispers.

I am using AI in the creation of this series. I realize that's extremely controversial, and I hesitated for a long time out of fear of how people would treat me for doing so. I have lots of good reasons for doing it, and I explain some of them in the video. There are reasons I have for doing this that are even more profound, but I'm not going to try to justify it. I'm doing what's right for the art, regardless of external pressures.

Just try to set your personal biases aside long enough to let the art piece speak for itself, and note any feelings it makes you experience, including any that don't feel good. Then, pull out your journal or meditation app or talk to your therapist about how this art piece made you feel. This applies to more than just the AI content. This series will likely upset you at some point.

That's a big part of the point of it, in fact. This story dives down deeply into the shadow self and doesn't flinch away from anything. If you don't get upset at some point in the storyline, I would be very surprised. Watching this series should probably be considered shadow work, since its main focus is on the idea that digging up your shadow and trying to heal it is a good thing. If you agree with that main premise, then you may very well appreciate this story. If you just want an easy story to relax to, this story is not the one for you. It's going to get intense.

It's also going to get intensely beautiful. The trippy aesthetic I present will be there throughout the entire series, even as I add new settings and plotlines and characters. I am simply showing the way I see the world through the vehicle of this series. The world is a chaotic mess right now, but I still see it through this trippy and beautiful lens. Maybe getting a glimpse into how I see the world will help someone to find the strength to keep going. Beauty might not be the answer to every problem, and some people might disagree on my definition of beauty, but if you could use a little more psychedelic beauty in your life, I provide it here freely. ❤️

I'm currently a starving artist, as in me and my husband have literally been starving and losing a ton of weight. It's a struggle to keep a roof over our heads too. We're both AuDHD gay trans men, and have been rejected by both sides of the family for it. We're currently only alive at the mercy of friends who have been barely scraping together enough to keep us on this mortal coil at all. But our needs are still not fully being met at the moment, so if you're at all inclined to help, that would be a huge blessing!

Here are some ways you can help us:

Whispers of Wonderland's Patreon

Being a patron would be so ridiculously helpful to us, and could get us out of this mess once we have enough supporters. I am still learning how to be a good influencer, so please be patient with me as I learn how to make my Patreon fascinating. I'm trying to find a way that comes naturally to me so that I don't struggle to do it. ❤️

Whispers of Wonderland's Ko-Fi

If you just want to help out once instead of subscribing, this seems to be the most popular way to do it. So I have this set up and functional, though it's not "prettified" yet. It'll get there. One step at a time. I have so much on my plate from trying to launch this series. I'm only one person trying to juggle all of this. Even with all the AI help I've been utilizing, I'm still overwhelmed. There's so much to do. 😅

And yes, my name really is Allegro Song. I named myself after a character in the Whispers of Wonderland lore. He will still have his name when he appears in the story. It'll just be a very odd and meta moment where I have to acknowledge that the author stole the character's name instead of the other way around.

But I am legally Allegro Song. That's how dedicated I am to this project. So long as I'm still breathing, I will continue finding some way to tell this story until it's fully gotten out of me. I can't do otherwise. This is simply what I'm meant to do.

Outside of financial help, what could really help us right now is visibility. We're at a precarious time in history where it's suddenly gotten very dangerous to be in the minority groups we're in, but we don't currently have any way to go somewhere safer. So I'm pivoting to doing the only thing I know how to do and making a lot of performative noise. If one can't leave a dangerous situation, the safest place is on the stage. You could very well help to keep us alive by watching my videos and sharing my posts around. If we're being watched by a ton of people, we're a lot less likely to disappear. And the sooner we get seen by so many people, the better. Just sharing this series around could potentially save our lives.

Thank you for taking the time to read all the way down here. I'm beyond grateful that you let me fully speak my mind until I said all I wanted to say in this post. Many people can't deal with reading a lengthy post like this, but it's how my thoughts tend to come out. Thank you for reading until the end. I appreciate that a lot. ❤️

Welcome to the Wonderverse, my dear traveler. I'll have more updates soon. In the meantime, I could get you a cup of tea. Which kind of tea do you like? Any kind, real or imaginary, is a valid answer. Anything can happen in the void.

---

AIs used in the making of this video:

Midjourney

DreamFace

Rythmix

InShot Video Editor

[spellcasterjupiter]

Religion saved me... but make it helpol

Holy shit because rn my life is on such an upswing and there is no way in hell it's not due to the gods. Apollon has made me draw and practice guitar and the arts again as well as supported me in EVERY performance literally ever??? Not to even mention how no matter if i quit helpol or withccraft or whatever he was always so welcoming when I came back. And he literally helped my chronically ill cat heal for a long while and aided me in grief. Apollon truly lived up to his name of Protector of Youth and has aided and helped me in so many chapters of my life. I am an artist and always have been, and like most mentally ill artists ive been basically fighting myself because of it. Apollon has been the biggest voice of reason in my life, telling me just to create no matter the quality; if not for myself, for him. He's gotten me back into drawing, writing, songwriting, and even playing other instruments. I don't know where I'd be without him.

Aphrodite has forced me back into my skincare (JK) and is one of the first deities i wrote poetry for and holy shit shes so nice and caring and welcoming. She's truly changed how I view myself, my body, and my face. Especially with being a transguy. Aphrodite is always there. Gods do i love her. haha gods thats fun to say. When I was struggling a lot last year, Aphrodite was the one who'd comfort me. She loved me regardless and I'm truly thankful for it. I promise to keep spreading love in her name, and to know I am capable of being loved like she loved me.

Athene has literally saved my grades over and over again??? And helped me remember the joy of researching and learning and that it's not just exhausting??? Not to even mention how she helped me delve into my Autism and strategies to work around the problems it can cause me in tasks and what not. And she helps me learn more abt ancient greece. She has helped me learn so much about discipline, and helped me remember a lot about myself. I love learning, and school had made it a chore. I also love writing, as clear by my absolute yapping ive done these past couple of posts. She deserves a ton of credit for the reason my practice looks the way it does, and my standard of research ive set for myself in my worship that ultimately benefits me. Shoutout.

Dionysos has pushed me so much further in my acting and confidence and i cant thank him enough for it. He's always been so chill and he might have saved me bc i never felt this intense pressure and expectation from him like i did with others (which was all in my head btw). Im pretty sure the start of his worship is what got me back into helpol last year too. He urges me to celebrate more, and to enjoy the feeling of freedom. To be unapologetically me and to celebrate whatever that means. To recognize the masks i put up, and to set time to put them to rest. Dionysos also has one of my favorite altars lmao

Hekate has really pushed me out of my comfort zone in regards to my craft, and just my religion in general. When my brain convinces me that I'm not really a witch, or that I don't deserve to be one, or that I'm doing everything wrong, Hekate guides me out of that thinking and really reigns me in. She also let's me tap into a darker , more shadow aspect of my spirituality and self in general. Hekate lets me embrace every part of myself, and even sit with the parts I don't like. And she's been here for YEARS and super welcoming when I would quit and come back every other month lmfao.

Selene has been such a soft and gentle guider of me for years. I truly believe that if I had any kind of patron/patroness, it would be selene. I've been in love with the night sky for years, and when I was really struggling mentally it was Selene who I would come to late in the night when I was sobbing, and she would listen every time. Through every apology about how I wasn't doing enough for my deities, and how I thought they deserved better, and how I understood if they were angry at me... but she never was. She was never angry when I procrastinated her research, or when i was too depressed to clean her altar, or didn't offer her anything for months. She was simply just happy when I did. She's taught me so much about how the gods work, and it's very clear as to why she tends to be my first for a lot of deity workings. Like the first one I wrote a poem for, a prayer for, made a digital altar for, and she might have even been the first I offered food to. As a kid i would joke i wanted the marry the moon. This is close enough :)

I might add to this as I grow closer with Persephone and Hades, and maybe even as I expand my work further. But, yeah! I love my deities xoxo

-Owen

[book-lore]

Library goblin rant incoming and yes, I'm about to ruin your dream. I also work there, so I am going to try to assist you in realizing why you need to access the bigger, better dream.

Okay, so I have seen this stupid post swirl around a few times now and it has had time to marinate and really turn into something I genuinely hate. The idea here isn't really a bad one, mind you. Having libraries open late enough that you can just enjoy reading and have a nice community oriented place to go is not bad at all. The thing is, this post very clearly has but one type of community in mind and it isn't going to be the one that shows up, most likely. This post also seems to have a weird idea of what it is that happens in a library, though to be fair, this isn't surprising for people who don't spend much time there. Let me explain.

For one: libraries are the last community centre that you have access to. It is free and welcoming of everyone and that includes a lot of people you probably aren't planning on inviting to your Saturday Night book club. Our homeless patrons are going to be a big part of who shows up to these late night hours and while most of them are wonderful patrons who are kind and respectful of the space, that doesn't mean that some of them aren't going through major mental health crises, drug withdrawals, conflicts among each other and various other parts that make up life without a home to go to. These are going to be a part of your library at night experience and yes, sometimes that means it's going to be scary there. Scary in a way that isn't necessarily going to be true at a coffee shop or a bar, where people who are deemed a problem are kept out on purpose. The library is for everyone and while I can't stress enough that our homeless patrons are most often among our best behaved, that doesn't always hold true for everyone.

Speaking of which, there are going to be other people attending these evening hours too and some of them aren't going to be people you want to get to know at night. People screaming and swearing and crying is going to be a part of the background of that time of day and those of you who aren't in the library during the day when it happens are probably going to find it pretty alarming. Likewise, when someone decides to go on a massive racist tirade, or just decides that they are going to try to hit on everyone who is feminine presenting, or someone decides to get into your face because they were forced to hear the word pronouns today, that is also something that happens on the regular, but will be a part of your evening experience. Drug use is also going to be happening in the bathrooms and you can expect that this may lead to people overdosing within the building. For the record, again, all this happens during the day, but if you only ever come to the library to pick up your holds before close, you probably didn't know this.

All of this probably has led you to believe that I don't think that there should be funding for later hours in the library, but the truth is a little more thorny. Having later hours wouldn't be a bad thing at all, except that people who are advocating for this fantasy are directly leaving out some crucial issues. For one, as the last community centre available to the wider public, that means that not only is this a shared space among the whole community, it is a space that has to take up the cause for everything the rest of the community doesn't provide. That means everything from people who are looking for shelter when the established ones that remain have no room, to places to safely inject, to places that they can find resources that they desperately need, to spaces where children can go to play in safety, to places where you can print off resumes, to places where someone can try to learn to start speaking English. All of this means that what you might imagine "well funded" looks like is a lot different. This isn't just about having adequate staffing, but also security and access to resources, including professionals who can take the burden off the front line staff who are going to deal with the bulk of it all. Those extra hours are within reach but convincing the people who hold the purse strings to shell out for any of this is going to be the bigger issue. More importantly, should the library really be this kind of resource?

This brings me to the two aspects of this dream that I hate the most: the lack of interest and advocacy that it reveals. As a library goblin, I am happy to help my community and I would love to offer more, but I can't pretend that this dream isn't entirely frustrating to me because nowhere in it does this take into account how it would play out for us or the community. If you want better options for after work and Saturday nights, you should be advocating for better community resources and spaces. There are means to get there. There are people you can elect and put pressure on to built that infrastructure. The library shouldn't be the only game in town where people can take care of their needs but we carry it all right now and we are seeing even more closures of community welfare sites. This means you need to be a part of that community and voice your concerns. This means you need to demand better from people. This means you need to show up and find or build those resources in your own community and help by being active. Community resources don't just appear, they are part of an effort that you have to be a part of.

The second aspect of this dream that I hate more than the first is the fact that if you want this dream to come true, you have to make sure that you are showing up for your libraries and your librarians, especially right now. Libraries have their funding under attack always, but right now a lot of them are facing reductions in their funding if they aren't being threatened with full closures. If you are in America, this is the time when you need to show up for this and demand access to your library. Demand that your money go towards keeping this resource alive. Get angry and make sure that you show up for community meetings about spending. Is it boring? Yes. That is so you won't bother and they can take away more hours from this resource. And if you do care about getting together in your local library to discuss books, you better also be hitting back hard against these book banning groups that have made it their mission to keep certain topics from anyone's eyes. Most book bans happen from the concerted efforts of very few people and if you believe that the library should be a place for you to gather and enjoy after work or on Saturday nights, you need to be a lot more openly hostile to those people who are actively trying to take it away from you. You want that funding? Demand it. You want those extra hours? Get out there and tell those people who are deciding the budget that this is what your community wants. You want those books on your shelf, show up and drown out those puritan assholes who are trying to ban them.

Libraries are for everyone and they have consistently taken on so much of the needs of the communities who rely on them. If you dream of a space that you can live out your dark academia fantasies and ignore the real issues that define the way we in the library operate, you are likely to be sorely disappointed. You are also likely to see the death of that dream if you aren't active about keeping your libraries alive. There's nothing wrong with dreaming, but I would ask you to dream bigger. Include other people in that dream. Make it so that even if the end result doesn't look like this, it also won't end in shuttered buildings and the end of your last community resources.

This is the DREAM.

[lisinfleur]

hello🤭

i wanted to ask if i could be added to the vikings masterlist. and if you wanna be mutuals by any chance👀

Welcome to my tag lists! You’re being added to the following lists:

Vikings – For posts with Vikings Characters and cast’s side jobs in general.

Talk Show – For the posts with questions and answers to my muses (which may include Vikings content as well!).

To guarantee you’ll be tagged, please observe the topics below and the updates where I’ll inform you about the tagging process. You can also take a look at my General Masterlist for a catch-up!

If something is wrong and you’re not being notified, please send me an ask and I’ll try to solve the problem! Keep in mind that if you do not notify me about the problem, I won’t be able to help you, ok?

You can check my secondary pages for my publications (including original and exclusive ones) if you want!

Thank you for your love!!

Where you can find me and my work: 

Patreon Page (support)

Ko-fi Page  (support)

Wattpad 

Important things to know:

If your name is tagged at my posts, but you aren’t receiving the notifications: First, check if the setting for “Allow this blog to appear in search results” is turned off for your blog (if it is, then turn it on, please! User mention relies on Tumblr’s users’ search, and disallowing all searches for the blog includes opting to be out of this search, so, unmarkable). Second, check my page and see if you can find a little lightning picture beside the little man in the upper right corner of your screen (next to the following button!). If the little lightning is not there, click on "Receive Notifications" to allow Tumblr to send you my notifications whenever I post something! If nothing helps, you can send me an ask informing me about the problem and I’ll contact you so we can solve it together!

If your blog is secondary: I won’t be able to find you through the user’s search, so please send me an ask with your main blog so I can tag you for notifications! Don’t worry, your ID will be preserved!

If you change your ID: Whenever the text after “@” changes on your blog, you have to resend your ask to be tagged on my lists, cause sometimes Tumblr doesn’t make the bound of your new ID with your old ID. Then I just become unable to tag you. So please, if you change your ID, do not forget to inform me of the changes!

Whenever a new tag list opens: Only patrons will be automatically included! Stay tuned to my posts about the tag lists and if you want to be added to the newest ones, send me a new ask and I will include you in the lists of your preference. Or become a patron (you’ll be more than welcome)! 

If your blog is tagged as NSFW: I will probably be unable to tag you since I can't find you through the search base. However, send me your ask anyway and we’ll find a way to contact you whenever a new post of your tag lists is released!

[timetochillout]

Why You Need Restaurant and Bar Ventilation

Restaurant and bar ventilation is a critical aspect of running a successful restaurant or bar. Whether it's to maintain air quality, ensure the comfort of your patrons, or meet safety regulations, proper ventilation is something you cannot afford to overlook. When customers step into your establishment, they expect more than just good food and drinks; they want a clean and comfortable environment. A poorly ventilated space can lead to unpleasant odours, excessive heat, and even health hazards. This article will explore why bars and restaurants need ventilation and how it impacts the overall experience, safety, and functionality of your business.

Introduction to Restaurant and Bar Ventilation

When you think about running a restaurant or bar, ventilation might not be the first thing that comes to mind. However, the air quality inside your establishment is just as important as the food and drinks you serve. Proper ventilation systems are essential for maintaining a pleasant and safe environment for both your customers and staff. In fact, without the right system, you could be facing problems ranging from foul smells to serious health risks. Let's dive into why restaurant and bar ventilation is not just a nice-to-have but an absolute necessity.

Why Ventilation is Crucial in Restaurants and Bars

Restaurants and bars are unique environments where many activities—cooking, smoking, drinking, and even large gatherings of people—can contribute to poor air quality. Without adequate ventilation, harmful substances like grease, smoke, carbon monoxide, and even excess moisture can accumulate. The result? Not only an uncomfortable atmosphere but also a breeding ground for bacteria and mould. Think of your ventilation system as the lungs of your building. It breathes in fresh air and exhales contaminated air, keeping the environment clean and safe for everyone inside.

Health Impacts of Poor Ventilation

Have you ever noticed how some restaurants feel stuffy or have an almost sticky atmosphere? This is often a sign of poor ventilation. Poor indoor air quality can cause a range of health issues, including headaches, fatigue, allergies, and respiratory problems. In worst-case scenarios, poor ventilation can even lead to the spread of airborne diseases. When your restaurant or bar lacks proper airflow, you're putting your customers and staff at risk. Nobody wants to feel unwell after spending time in your establishment, and poor ventilation could be the hidden culprit behind it all.

Odour Control: A Key Role of Ventilation

Imagine walking into a restaurant that smells like last night's dinner. Not exactly appetising, is it? Restaurants and bars naturally produce a lot of smells—some pleasant, others not so much. A good ventilation system helps to quickly and efficiently remove odours from cooking, smoke, and other activities, ensuring that your establishment always smells fresh. Without this, those lingering odours could turn away customers before they even take a seat. Ventilation is your secret weapon in creating a welcoming environment that makes people want to stay, eat, and enjoy.

Maintaining Temperature and Comfort for Customers

We all know how uncomfortable it can be to sit in a stuffy, overheated room. In a restaurant or bar, this can lead to customer dissatisfaction and even lost business. A well-ventilated space helps to regulate the temperature, keeping it cool in summer and warm in winter. It also ensures that fresh air circulates, reducing stuffiness and making the environment more pleasant. When your customers feel comfortable, they are more likely to stay longer, order more, and return for future visits.

Fire Safety and Ventilation: Protecting Your Business

Fire safety is a huge concern in any business, but it’s especially critical in restaurants and bars where cooking equipment is in constant use. Grease and smoke build-up in poorly ventilated kitchens can be a major fire hazard. Proper ventilation systems, such as fire-resistant ductwork, help to reduce the risk of fires by ensuring that grease and other flammable materials are safely removed from the air. In the event of a fire, a good ventilation system can also help to contain the fire and prevent it from spreading. This could mean the difference between a small incident and a total disaster.

Meeting Legal Requirements: Ensuring Compliance

In most countries, restaurants and bars are required to meet specific ventilation standards. These regulations are in place to ensure that your establishment is safe for both customers and staff. Failure to comply with these standards can result in hefty fines or even the closure of your business. Proper ventilation systems not only help you avoid these penalties but also ensure that your customers feel safe and comfortable. It’s essential to familiarise yourself with the local laws and ensure your ventilation system meets all required standards.

Energy Efficiency and Ventilation

A good ventilation system doesn’t just improve air quality and safety—it can also save you money. Modern ventilation systems are designed to be energy efficient, helping to reduce your energy bills. By controlling the amount of air that is brought into and expelled from your building, you can reduce the workload on your heating and cooling systems. This not only helps the environment but also puts more money back into your pocket.

Caswell Group: A Solution for Fire-Resistant Ductwork

When it comes to fire safety, one company stands out: Caswell Group. Caswell Group specialises in providing fire-resistant ductwork for businesses like restaurants and bars. Their innovative systems are designed to contain fires, preventing them from spreading through the ductwork to other areas of the building. This adds an extra layer of protection for your business, staff, and customers. Additionally, Caswell Group focuses on eco-friendly builds, ensuring that their products not only keep you safe but also reduce your environmental impact. If you’re looking for a reliable solution to enhance fire safety in your ventilation system, Caswell Group should be at the top of your list.

Eco-Friendly Solutions in Restaurant and Bar Ventilation

More and more businesses are looking for ways to reduce their carbon footprint, and ventilation systems are no exception. By investing in energy-efficient, eco-friendly ventilation solutions, you can improve your restaurant or bar's sustainability. Many modern systems are designed to reduce energy consumption while still providing excellent air quality. Additionally, some systems can even filter out harmful pollutants, contributing to a cleaner environment both inside and outside your establishment.

Ventilation System Types for Restaurants and Bars

There are various types of ventilation systems available, each designed to suit different needs. Some of the most common types include:

Exhaust Hoods: Essential for removing smoke, heat, and grease from kitchens.

Make-Up Air Units: These systems bring in fresh air to replace the air that is exhausted.

Heat Recovery Ventilators: These are energy-efficient systems that exchange stale indoor air with fresh outdoor air, recovering heat in the process.

Each of these systems plays a crucial role in ensuring your restaurant or bar remains a pleasant and safe place for everyone.

Installation and Maintenance Tips for Ventilation Systems

It’s not enough to simply install a ventilation system and forget about it. Regular maintenance is key to ensuring that your system works efficiently and lasts for years to come. This includes cleaning filters, checking ductwork for blockages, and ensuring all fans and motors are working properly. A poorly maintained system can quickly become ineffective and even dangerous. It’s a good idea to have a professional regularly inspect and maintain your system to prevent any potential issues.

How Good Ventilation Improves Customer Satisfaction

Have you ever noticed how the atmosphere of a restaurant can make or break the experience? Even the best food and drinks can’t make up for an uncomfortable environment. Good ventilation creates a pleasant atmosphere by controlling odours, maintaining comfortable temperatures, and ensuring fresh air circulates. When your customers feel comfortable, they’re more likely to enjoy their meal and stay longer. This directly impacts your bottom line, as satisfied customers are more likely to return and recommend your establishment to others.

Long-Term Benefits of Investing in Quality Ventilation

Investing in a high-quality ventilation system may seem like a large upfront expense, but the long-term benefits far outweigh the costs. Not only will you provide a safer, more comfortable environment for your customers and staff, but you’ll also save on energy costs and reduce the risk of costly repairs or fines due to non-compliance. Moreover, a well-ventilated space can improve your reputation, leading to more satisfied customers and ultimately, higher profits.

End

In conclusion, ventilation is an essential component of running a successful restaurant or bar. From controlling odours and ensuring customer comfort to meeting safety regulations and preventing fires, a good ventilation system is something no establishment should be without. By investing in quality ventilation, you’re not only protecting your business but also creating a more enjoyable experience for your customers. If you haven’t already, now is the time to evaluate your ventilation system and make any necessary improvements.

[laptopsss]

Microsoft Service Center In Chandigarh

Microsoft Service Center  in Chandigarh

In the bustling cityscape of Chandigarh, where the rhythm of life pulses through its vibrant streets and dynamic community, one name stands out as a beacon of excellence in the realm of technology repairs: Microsoft Surface Repair. Nestled amidst the urban landscape, this esteemed Microsoft  service center in Chandigarh emerges as a trusted ally, offering unparalleled expertise and dedicated service to those seeking to restore their Microsoft Surface devices to optimal condition. With a commitment to excellence and customer satisfaction, Microsoft Surface Repair is poised to redefine the service experience for technology enthusiasts in Chandigarh.

Microsoft Surface Repair:

Stepping into the virtual domain of Microsoft Surface Repair is akin to entering a sanctuary for technology enthusiasts. With a mission to provide top-notch repair services and exceptional customer care, this esteemed service center welcomes patrons with open arms, ready to address their Microsoft Surface repair needs with precision and expertise. From hardware malfunctions to software glitches, Microsoft Surface Repair offers comprehensive solutions tailored to restore devices to their peak performance.

Navigating Chandigarh's Tech Landscape:

As the sun sets over Chandigarh's iconic skyline, casting its golden hues upon the bustling city below, tech enthusiasts turn to Microsoft Surface Repair for their expertise in navigating the local technology landscape. With an intimate knowledge of Chandigarh's tech ecosystem and the unique challenges faced by Microsoft Surface users, the service center serves as a trusted partner in addressing a wide range of repair issues. Whether it's a cracked screen, a malfunctioning keyboard, or a software update gone awry, Microsoft Surface Repair is equipped to handle it all with finesse and efficiency.

Unparalleled Expertise and Dedicated Service:

At the heart of Microsoft Surface Repair lies a commitment to unparalleled expertise and dedicated service. Unlike generic repair shops that offer one-size-fits-all solutions, Microsoft Surface Repair takes a tailored approach to each repair task, leveraging their team of skilled technicians and state-of-the-art diagnostic tools to identify and address the root cause of the problem. With a focus on transparency and integrity, they keep patrons informed at every step of the repair process, ensuring peace of mind and satisfaction with the final outcome.

Elevating the Service Experience:

Microsoft Surface Repair is more than just a service center—it's a destination for technology enthusiasts seeking excellence and reliability. Beyond the repair bench, patrons can expect a seamless and hassle-free experience, from the moment they walk through the door to the moment they leave with their fully restored device in hand. With streamlined processes, efficient turnaround times, and courteous customer service, Microsoft Surface Repair sets a new standard for excellence in the realm of technology repairs in Chandigarh.

Customer Testimonials:

But don't just take our word for it—let the testimonials of satisfied patrons speak for themselves. From professionals relying on their Surface devices for work to students using them for academic pursuits, people from all walks of life have experienced the excellence of Microsoft Surface Repair. Their glowing reviews serve as a testament to the service center's unwavering commitment to customer satisfaction and technical expertise.

Conclusion:

In the dynamic landscape of Chandigarh's technology scene, Microsoft Surface Repair emerges as a trusted ally for those seeking reliable and efficient repair services. With their unparalleled expertise, dedicated service, and commitment to excellence, they stand at the forefront of the service industry, ready to address the repair needs of Microsoft Surface users with precision and care. So the next time you encounter an issue with your Microsoft Surface device, remember to turn to Microsoft Surface Repair—a premier destination for service excellence in Chandigarh.