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Pocket Amber Bubble Window Spoon I just made
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lesbian housewife jackie
because she deserves to be taken care of (lesbian! jackie x sapphic/lesbian reader)
borders by @cafekitsune
accompanying bot
♡ it just happened. you guys got your degrees. you both decided to work for a little bit, find a place to live, build your space together. you left the decorating up to jackie. she had developed a good taste with color schemes and liked to display your trinkets on the shelves that contrasted your walls.
♡ you worked for a few years, went back to school to get a graduate degree. and jackie needed a break from work. it was exhausting and she had just been let go.
♡ you promised to take care of her while she took her break. and with all this time on her hands, jackie started to pick up new hobbies. do things that made her happy.
♡ jackie quickly learned that she liked staying home. she liked crocheting a blanket for your kitten and taking the dog out on walks and making a really good meal while treating herself to a glass of wine. life was bliss.
♡ and you would come home, tired. but to your smiling wife. all baggage from the work day faded away as she wraps her arms around your shoulders and kisses you sweetly. she tastes like strawberries and smells like sugar.
♡ "how was work?" she'd ask in her sweet voice. and you'd answer with whatever happened. maybe you'd complain about your incompetent coworker. maybe you'd tell her about that thing that went so well. she'd listen to all of it, interjecting and giving you advice. good advice.
♡ then you'd eat. on tuesdays, it's always jackie's cooking. fridays is always your date night and you treat your gorgeous wife to the hottest restaurant she wants to go to. "doesn't this look interesting (y/n)?" she'd ask. and while she's in the bathroom you make a reservation so you can surprise her that friday.
♡ the other days are fair game. sometimes leftovers. sometimes you bring takeout from her favorite chinese restaurant. and sometimes you'll wake up before she does to make a crock pot recipe so she doesn't have to cook. she can sit back and do her hobbies.
♡ life is good. life is very good. you guys have enough of a routine to feel stable and enough spontaneity that it doesn't get boring. you loved surprising her with a trip to france because she mentioned how she wanted to do a wine tour.
♡ jackie's got her life outside of the home. she likes to go on runs with your neighbors, walk the dog with them, bake, host book club. they just finished reading she came to stay. you trust her with your card. plus she also has plenty of money saved up in her own account from when she worked herself to the bone.
♡ maybe you guys have kids. she gets involved with the pta. and everyone loves her baked goods when she's at the bake sale. her meticulously designed cookies are the star. and her fingers hurt from squeezing the piping bag.
♡ you rub oil into her fingers, massaging her hands, worn down. and when you're done with her hands, you have jackie lay down to massage her back. it's never good to be hunching over the kitchen island icing cookies. "your hands are magical." she moans out.
♡ the worst part is when you're gone. a business trip. a conference. either way, you had to leave. yes, you guys are intimate. of course you are. how can you not be when you both have the hots for each other and are heads over heels in love with one another?
♡ and poor jackie is left feeling needy. she misses your massages. she misses the way your hand would cup her thigh, your lips on her neck and suckling at her sweet spots. how your fingers would work her towards a blissful climax. silicone toys are fine and all. but nothing compares to having you.
♡ you know this. jackie can be a little needy, a little clingy. it's cute when she whines while in bed, trying to pull you back as you tell her you need to leave for your flight or get to work.
♡ so you come back early. you know her schedule. you come home when she's gone, set up flowers and candles and cook her a nice steak dinner with a nice glass of wine. and she comes home to you.
♡ and after your plates are cleaned and the dishes are organized in the dishwasher and the pets and kid(s) taken care of, you spread her out on the silks of your shared bed and she grips onto you as if you will disappear.
#yellowjackets#yellowjackets headcanons#yellowjackets au#jackie taylor#x reader#jackie taylor x reader
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Thanks to cuteaquarium for sending this gorgeous 1924 estate that's for sale in Seattle, WA. Modeled after a British Manor, the 6bds, 7ba, home is priced at $14.9M.
Wow, classy Seattle property. Look at the entrance doors and gardens.
Beautiful sitting room with doors to a patio with a view of Lake Washington and the Cascade Mountains.
Wet bar tucked discreetly in the wall.
This is definitely a man cave style place to relax with friends, or just with a good cigar or pipe, and a glass of dessert wine.
The dining room is cozy with upholstered chairs and a fireplace.
The kitchen is fabulous. Well-thought-out, not just pick a cabinet and have them installed. They chose beautiful white, timeless Shaker style cabinets featuring cupboards, china cabinets, glass doors, and closets. The only counter is on the large island. Isn't the wood beautiful? And, the quartz top is perfectly matched.
But, the focal point is the stove. They had it set into the wall to mimic an ancient cooking fireplace. Cabinets on both sides hold cooking utensils, the copper backsplash is gorgeous, and the pot filler tops it all off.
A statue stands on a plinth in the hall by the stairs.
The railing features variously carved balusters and the stairs are covered in leopard print carpet.
A spiral staircase wraps around this interesting, and very sturdy, column.
The only area of the primary bedroom they show is the set of double doors opening to a terrace with a stunning view.
One of the bath's has a marble tub in front of a window.
Beautiful home office. I like the brown paint on the coffered ceiling.
And, every estate must have a wine cellar.
The garden is a beautiful green frame for the lake and mountains.
No matter where you look there's a gorgeous view.
Closeup of the outside lantern details.
Sculptural architecture makes the home look old.
Thick textured balusters in the gated entrance.
A dining terrace.
Very elegant estate on a 9,021 sq ft lot.
Lit up at dusk.
https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/Seattle-WA-98112/349486709_zpid/
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sugar cookie daydream
prompt: enemies to lovers (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 997 rated: t tags: baker steve, shop owner eddie, rivalry, flirting
welcome to Day 19 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!
Okay, so Steve doesn’t like to say that he hates anyone.
And he doesn’t! Hate anyone. Just–
The guy who owns the shop across the street. Steve doesn’t hate him, because he doesn’t hate people as a general rule, but he maybe sort of… strongly dislikes him.
It’s just the fact that he’s been trying to move in on Steve’s territory by offering free Christmas cookies with any purchase when Steve literally runs the bakery right across the street, and that feels like it’s maybe a personal attack, or– okay, Dustin thinks he’s reading way too much into it or overreacting or something, but honestly? Steve thinks it’s perfectly reasonable to hate the guy who–
Not hate. He doesn’t hate him. He just– resents him. That’s a better word for it.
He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he arranges a fresh round of pastries in their glass case, smiling at the woman who’s eyeing the cream puffs at the other end of the counter. It’s not like he’s exactly hurting for customers, it’s just… the big Free Cookies! sign directly across the street feels a little pointed.
“What can I get you?” he asks the woman, who’s now moved on to examine a rainbow array of macarons. “Those also make great holiday gifts.”
The woman glances up and gives him a big smile, toothy and sweet. She’s pretty in a disarming sort of way, big eyes and long blonde hair pulled back from her face. She’s carrying a heavy-looking bag over her shoulder, loaded down with books that peek out the top.
“Just picking up a few things to take across the street,” she says, heaving the bag higher on her shoulder. “Game night.”
She motions with her head in the direction of The Shop, and Steve resists the urge to make a face. Well, at least he’s getting one paying customer out of the place. Two, if you count Dustin, but he doesn’t ever actually pay.
After a few minutes of selection, he sends her on her way with a little box of macarons, plus a few other things, including an assortment of cookies to show off to his mortal enemy the guy across the street who’s innocently drumming up business for himself by undercutting Steve’s sales.
It doesn’t even matter.
Whatever.
---
And then the shop bell chimes next morning, and he looks up from piping cupcakes to find the man himself standing there in front of the counter, as if he’s allowed to. As if he was invited in. As if Steve isn’t going to give him a piece of his mind and tell him what he really thinks of–
Fuck.
Of course he had to be hot up close.
“Hi,” Evil Shop Owner Guy says, giving him an awkward little wave and a smile. After a beat, his hand moves to rub over the back of his neck. “Thought I’d come say hi.”
Steve blinks. “Well,” he says. “You said it. Hi.”
The guy laughs, and he takes a step closer, which is decidedly not what Steve was going for. He sets down his pastry bag.
“I meant– hi, like–” He lets out a breath. “I’m Eddie. I own the game store that just opened across the street?”
Steve gives him a tight smile. “Yeah, my cashier goes to your games on Thursdays,” he says. “Dustin? Curly-headed kid?”
“Oh yeah, he’s–” Eddie lets out a laugh that makes Steve soften slightly against his will. “He’s a good kid.” He squints. “Kind of an oddball, though.”
Steve laughs too, and his smile loosens. “Yeah, he is,” he says. “Kind of thought all you were until I met the rest of his friends, and– nope, mostly just him.”
Eddie’s shoulders have come down from his ears a little, and he rocks up on his toes as he laughs.
“Listen, um.” He clears his throat. “I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot?”
Steve raises his eyebrows. “We did?”
“The cookie thing,” he says. “Dustin said you’re not exactly a fan.”
And that’s… not untrue, but still. Steve feels his face heat.
“He shouldn’t have said anything,” he says. “I’m– sorry, it’s not like I’ve been– whatever. It just felt a little–”
“No, no, I totally get it,” Eddie says. “I guess I didn’t really think. And then my friend Chrissy brought over some of your stuff last night, and it was way better than the shit we’ve been giving out, and –” He takes a breath. “Anyway. I just wanted to say sorry, and – if you want, I mean – I kind of have an idea of how to make it better?”
---
Steve is a little unsure at first, but after a few days of Eddie’s plan to give half off dice to anyone who comes in with a receipt from the bakery, his sales have definitely started to inch back up toward where they were before someone started undercutting him. Steve even begrudgingly admits the dice are cool when Dustin shows off his new set after paying for his breakfast for the first time ever.
“I don’t really get what they do, though,” Steve says, turning them over in his hand to watch the way the light catches on the glitter trapped inside.
“They don’t do anything,” Dustin says. “They’re dice. You use them to play.”
Steve makes a face. “Okay, I’m not that stupid, thanks.” He drops them back into Dustin’s waiting hand. “I just meant like – the game doesn’t make sense to me. But I’m glad you like them.”
“You could come over net Thursday,” Dustin says, raising his eyebrows. “I bet Eddie wouldn’t mind teaching you.”
“I’m good, thanks,” Steve says. “No nerd games for me. I’ll stick with my cookies.”
---
But that doesn’t stop him from asking Eddie out for a celebratory drink the next day, and if one thing leads to another, well – he never said he hated him.
[also on ao3]
#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddieholidaydrabbles#my fic#chrissy cunningham#dustin henderson
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inside me, a family
“and for god’s sake,” kuroo yells in the direction of the entrance. “can someone please get tsukki off flyer distribution! he’s scaring more people off than inviting them!” 3k. karasuno/nekoma. fluff. also on ao3.
“Nekokara.”
“What are you,” Suga grimaces. “A fujoshi? Why does it matter which team name comes first in the banner?”
Kuroo’s stubborn expression doesn’t budge an inch, nor does his posture. “Nekokara.”
“Karaneko,” Daichi suddenly pipes up, surprising everyone in the room. Noya and Tanaka have somehow strategically slithered their way at each of his side, very much looking like his personal bodyguards as they set to agreeing very loudly and verbally all the while massaging their captain’s shoulders. Go, Daichi-san! Defend our honor!
“Oh god,” Suga breathes out, palming his forehead. “Don’t tell me you’re in on this too?”
Daichi just smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. It doesn’t escape Suga’s notice that doing so just forces his muscles to protrude from his already annoyingly jacked chest, making even Kuroo stand up straighter.
"Karaneko,” Daichi repeats, pitching his voice lower and more demandingly.
Kuroo’s eyes slant to a glare, nostrils flaring slightly. Tora has somehow also miraculously materialized by his side, clamping a hand on his shoulder as he—just like Noya and Tanaka—begins his own verbal back-up of his captain.
“Neko—”
“Good Lord this will never end,” Yaku suddenly cuts in, stepping in between both teams and glaring long and hard at each captain until some of their confidence withers just so. Daichi defers almost immediately, while Kuroo pathetically lasts about five pitiful seconds. “Karaneko, Nekokara, whatever. It doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t we get started on more important things like how we’re actually going to pull off a damn bake sale?”
Kuroo opens his mouth to counterargue, but is, once again, pathetically silenced by Yaku immediately sending a seething look his way. It’s purely out of self-preservation that he shrinks into himself and zips his mouth altogether.
Yaku uses the temporary shift in power dynamics to pass around scraps of paper, aided by Asahi and Kai who also just want to get it over with.
“How the hell did we even get stuck with each other?” Tanaka whines, peering over the activity pamphlet for the coming week. “We’re not even from Tokyo. Coming here isn't cheap, you know.”
“Don’t you guys normally do this with Fukurodani?” Daichi says, squinting down at the roles Nekoma—meaning a vengeful Kuroo—had taken upon themselves to suggest under “recommendations”. Suga boldly rejects half of them on the spot. There is absolutely no way you’re letting my precious Tsukki be a garbage boy, Kuroo, the kid can’t even clean his own glasses.
“I’m not doing it with those private school kids again,” Tora huffs, annoyed. “Did you know they bring an actual physical therapist every time? Bokuto-san keeps complaining his arms cramp up from mixing the batter bowl every 5 minutes. And Akaashi just lets him!”
“Are you…” Suga blinks, slowly turning his head his way after giving Kuroo a scolding of a lifetime. “Did you just call us poor?”
All the color drains out of Tora’s face. Tanaka is quick to roll his sleeves up, sensing his senpai’s growing dissent, and is already making his way over to maybe pound Tora’s hairless head into the underground all the good that senseless brain does him—
“Maa, maa,” Kuroo strolls in between them just in time, after remembering he was actually Nekoma’s captain and that actually meant something and damn these crows. “The bake sale tradition raises money for both teams and boosts community morale among schools. And I just thought, well, wouldn’t it be nice for us dumpster kids to stick together?”
Daichi squints at him, disbelieving.
Kuroo surrenders. “Alright fine,” he sighs. “Coach made us draw lots. I can count in one hand all the schools Tora doesn’t have a restricting order against for picking fights with, but it’s kinda slim pickings. We’re just glad we didn’t get Itachiyama.”
"Damn,” Noya whistles his approval. “I pity whoever they end up with.”
Kai winces. “Then you’d better send your regards to Inarizaki.”
“The Hyogo powerhouse?” Asahi widens his eyes. “But doesn’t their setter and the Itachiyama ace have beef?”
Suga chokes on the water he was chugging, “Since when do you know the word beef?!” At the same time Yaku makes an ominous sign of the cross, mumbling his prayers for Kita. “May the Inari Okami be with you, Kita-san.”
“Alright guys, that’s enough,” Daichi clasps his hands together, earning a flinch from Asahi. “We don’t have time to be worried about the other schools. Anyone else notice how quiet it’s been for the past hour?”
Kuroo glances around the empty classroom, sniffing and assessing. Suga is already preparing his thinly veiled threats at whatever mayhem they were bound to discover at leaving their first years unattended. Daichi is just about to ask where the hell is everyone when a decidedly loud, horror-movie-piercing scream rumbles its way outside the hall.
A beat of silence passes.
Daichi and Kuroo exchange wary looks. “Your kid or mine?”
Kuroo just about has his mouth open to reply, when Suga stomps his way past everyone in a decisive manner, cracking his knuckles as he comes face to face with the door.
“I don’t care whose kid it is,” Suga warns, giving them a look over his shoulder. “They’re dead.”
-
“A little to the right.”
…
“I said right, Tanaka-san,” Kuroo snaps, baring his teeth. “Or we could always have Yaku spot you instead if you prefer?”
Tanaka stiffens as he holds unto the welcome banner, trying not to move too much unless he disrupts the structural integrity of the ladder he was precariously balanced on. Kenma was somewhere at the bottom and, he’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he saw him whipping out his PSP instead of holding the ladder steady like he was instructed. Tanaka's life is literally on the line and no one cares.
“Oi Rapunzel,” Kuroo barks, again, impatient. “Are we boring you?”
These goddamn cats, Tanaka thinks. Leave it to Kuroo to let Kenma off the hook again.
“N-no, Kuroo-san,” Tanaka mumbles shakily, moving the banner inch by painstaking inch until he feels Kuroo’s glare at his back dwindle into something like mild approval.
“Kenma,” he calls out suddenly, his tone softening. “Come here and check?”
Oh great yeah okay, Tanaka muses as he seethes with the wall, With Kenma it’s a question mark and gentle tone. With everyone else he’s an unrelenting dictator.
He feels movement below him as Kenma lets go of the single (!!!) hand he was gripping the ladder with rather precariously, that Tanaka has to plant his palms for purchase with the wall just not to topple over completely.
“What the hell—?” Tanaka turns, spotting Kenma’s mismatched head of hair, ready to swear down a number of profanities that’d make his own sister proud.
That is until he meets eyes with Kuroo and his single raised eyebrow. Almost protective, almost a challenge, almost a threat.
These goddamn cats.
-
“And for God’s sake,” Kuroo yells in the direction of the entrance. “Can someone please get Tsukki off flyer distribution! He’s scaring more people off than inviting them!”
Suga makes a face. Kuroo, native Tokyoite and just generally less introverted than everyone else, has since taken complete dictatorship of the planning committee for this supposed joint bake sale. He’s barked orders, threatened his own members, made Asahi cry once, got into multiple fights with Yaku, and repeatedly made clear to Bokuto that he absolutely cannot come and help because he will not come and help and Do you want all of our cupcakes gone before opening day? Cause Bokuto will 100% eat them all. Think of the children, Suga-san.
Suga is convinced he’s a little loose on the head and could potentially be a little unhinged, but they were country bumpkins who didn’t know the first thing about holding an organized event in Japan’s capital, and so lets him be for the most part.
Daichi, however, has always rebelled where Kuroo is concerned.
“Sorry,” Daichi says, straightening his back after carrying a box of measuring cups in. “But did I just hear you order around my first year?”
“There is no my and yours here anymore, Daichi-san,” Kuroo bats his eyes at him sweetly, smiling. “We’re a team now, remember?”
Daichi arches a brow, unconvinced and unyielding. “My first year, my demands.”
“Who trained him to be the middle blocker he is today?” Kuroo raises his chin.
Daichi is immune to 6-footer-intimidation-tactics. “Pretty sure his brother.”
That shuts Kuroo up straight away. Daichi’s shit eating grin that follows isn’t missed by anyone in the gym, and if possible, even a few members of Nekoma howl in pleasure.
“If we’re staking claim on just anyone now because this bake sale is apparently a lawless land,” Suga suggests pointedly from behind the counter, assembling an array of pastry brushes. “I veto Lev out of marketing.”
“What the hell has he ever done to you?!” Yaku shrieks by his side, halting his own arrangement of rolling pins. Kuroo is quick to follow up with, “The kid has the emotional comprehension of a five year old. He can’t even hurt a cat. We’ve seen it ourselves.”
By the water coolers, Tora begins nodding so vigorously Tanaka has to grab his head in fear of whiplash. Even Kai, setting up chairs and tables with Asahi and Noya, looks the slightest bit defensive.
“I have nothing against him,” Suga is quick to ammend. “But if he doesn’t stop offering 50% discounts, he’ll bleed us dry soon before we’ve even started.”
Kuroo gasps, affronted. "Lev did no such thing!"
Suga is just about to reply when they hear footsteps outside the door, making out a symphony of girlish laughs along with a decidedly male voice that sounded just like Lev accompanying them, singsongly promising: And that’s not all! First 30 customers also get a free picture with our captain! He's over 200cm, you know!
Kuroo’s shoulders slump. He blinks once, twice.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
-
"Kageyama, take off your shirt."
"Absolutely not," Daichi wheezes, stepping forward in front of Kageyama at the same time Suga seizes hold of the hem of his shirt, pinning it in place. "What the fuck, Kuroo."
Kuroo groans, pinching the bridge of his noise. "Look," he says, pointing at them. "The way I see it, someone needs to start showing some skin around here or we're going to lose."
Suga gives him an incredulous look, inching closer to Kageyama protectively, who still looked like a fish out of water munching on a test batch cookie Ennoshita and Narita asked him to try. "And you thought the minor was the way to go?"
"He's Oikawa's protege, isn't he?" Kuroo points out, matter-of-factly.
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Daichi gestures wildly, exasperated.
Kuroo blinks. "Oh," he says. "You guys don't know."
Suga feels uneasy. "Know what."
Kuroo leans in, conspiratorially, like he's about to drop top-secret national-level information. "A classmate from econ class told me another bake sale was happening in the next building over. Another Miyagi and Tokyo collaboration."
"And?" Daichi furrows his brows. "There's hundreds of volleyball teams in Sendai."
Kuroo hushes him, not kindly. "Yeah, but no offense, up until a few months ago there really was only 2 schools other prefectures gave a fuck about."
Suga's expression is a mix of confusion and annoyance. "You couldn't possibly mean—"
"Oh, but I very well do," Kuroo grins, a sliver of teeth peeking through at the corners. "Favorites Seijoh and Shiratorizawa are apparently causing quite the ruckus and have already made their goal twice over. Ask me how."
Now it was Daichi's time to groan.
Kuroo snaps at him again, impatient. "Just do it, Sawamura! Am I asking for the world!"
Daichi grits his teeth, before letting out a very painful, very slow and labored, "How."
Kuroo's grin turns absolutely maniacal as he looks Kageyama up and down. "They're holding an auction to date Oikawa or Ushijima for a day."
"Shut up," Suga gushes at him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "They are not."
"Are too!" Kuroo squeals, growing more excited. "And didn't you hear me? They've met their goal. Twice. At this point they've probably funded at least another generation of those annoying preppy school athletes."
"It's not a competition," Daichi reminds him.
"Says the loser," Kuroo quips back.
Daichi holds his arms up in surrender, exasperated. "We are literally on the same team. Literally. You just said so like, five minutes ago. What I make, you make."
"Exactly," Kuroo zeroes in on him, sliding a hand over his shoulder and peering closer at him, eyes dilated and full of corporate greed. "And I want to secure a future for my kouhai," he continues, saying the next part in a deceptively enticing voice, "And you want that too, don't you?"
Suga feels his insides churn. "Daichi," he starts. "Wait. Don't—"
In the next second, Daichi's posture straightens into that of unyielding determination. The fine set of his shoulders and the arch of his jaw, so stubbornly straight and piercing. Suga blanches. Kageyama stiffens. They both recognize that look, know Daichi has gone to a point of no return and no amount of pleading will get through to him anymore. Suga is starting to seriously come to terms with the fact he might seriously have to end the day a cat murderer.
Daichi turns to Kuroo. "What do you need us to do?"
Oh God, Suga thinks, Kageyama is going to need so much therapy after this.
-
“Mom and Dad are fighting.”
"What the fuck,” Tsukishima says at the same time Kageyama snaps his head in Hinata’s direction to tell him, “No, they’re not.”
Hinata’s scowl deepens, a prickle at the back of his neck telling him to go against anything Kageyama believes in out of sheer principle. “Yes, they are.”
“No,” Kageyama stomps over to him, completely ignoring the baking pans Daichi asked him to clean. He makes sure to stand up straighter and lord that extra head of height over him. “They are not. Shut up.”
"Are too," Hinata taunts. "I heard them saying your name over and over again, too! Suga-san said something about putting his foot down. You did something, didn't you?"
Kageyama's eyes flicker briefly down at his shirt, before rising to glare at Hinata again. "Shut up! Did not!
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
Tsukishima can’t believe what he’s seeing nor hearing. “You guys,” he tries to keep his voice level. “You guys seriously don’t call Daichi-san and Suga-san… Mom and Dad… right?” he laughs, an airy thing. “Right?”
They can’t even hear him, good lord. They’re in another one of those intensely and homoerotically charged eye contact competitions that not even Daichi can penetrate no matter how hard he tries. He gives it another few minutes before one of them—inevitably Hinata who has to strain his head just to even keep going—blinks because he needs to and cries out unjust treatment of the marginalized.
Stop trying to make short people oppression a thing, Yamaguchi snaps at him when he's caught in the crossfire. It’s never going to be a thing.
Kageyama always walks away smirking in satisfaction, maybe even a little amusement.
Tsukishima is sick of their back and forth and feels himself one more unwilling third wheel event before he locks them in a room and forces them to play 7 Minutes in Heaven or no volleyball forever again. And yes, he does mean forever: Daichi will simply have to find another setter and decoy.
“You guys are so fucking weird,” he mumbles instead, walking away to grab another stack of fliers to distribute around the block. Before he leaves he thinks he can hear Kuroo calling out for him, but when has Tsukki ever listened to his seniors?
-
The first half hour into the bake sale, they are a well-oiled machine.
Asahi, man of few words but will get triggered by potentially anything and everything, is highly encouraged—in Kuroo's words, with an underbite that absolutely threatened more than encouraged—to have the least amount of human interaction. Hence his current one-sided conversation with the wall as he diligently tied ribbons into cupcake boxes. Noya and Yaku, on the completely other end of the spectrum, the fastest of both teams and able to weasel their way into everything undetected much like subway rats: into the makeshift tables they go, cleaning up every drop of icing that so much as threatens to fall, and gone by the next second like wind.
The merry band of freshmen six footers—Kageyama, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Lev, Inuoka—are designated waiters. If they're good for anything, which they are not, then let them be at least good looking coat hangers.
Hinata and Suga man the cashiers, Kenma making a digital receipt of every order as they go so they can track their progress easily. Kuroo and Daichi are the welcome committee, ushering customers into seats and able to spontaneously go into a passionate elevator pitch about the highs and lows of highschool volleyball on the spot that has all the mothers ordering at least another box of cupcakes to take home.
The rest of the team are slotted into respective roles that they attack with the same kind of devotion as they do in volleyball. Passionate, earnest, and all relishing in the integrity of a job well done. Karasuno and Nekoma, really and truly, at their core; work surprisingly well together. Maybe the best out of most teams in Miyagi and Tokyo.
And so all goes well for the first thirty minutes since the doors to the gym open and business is so far good. All goes well and everyone gets along and no cupcake is burnt and no first year is wreaking havoc unprompted.
All that is, until, well:
"Oh my god," one of the customers gush, pointing to Kageyama. "Isn't that Kageyama Tobio? Oikawa-san's kouhai?"
Kageyama stiffens, almost drops a plate full of piping hot egg tarts straight into Kai's lap. "I-I—"
Suga already clocked the customer from a mile away and was already heading over their way.
But Kuroo, longer limbs, gets there faster.
"Why, yes," he grins at them, pleased, beckoning Kageyama over. "That is, in fact, Kageyama Tobio in the flesh. Genius setter in the up and up."
Daichi squeezes the bottle of water he was holding onto, making murder eyes at Kuroo from across the room. Kuroo meets it with a glint of his own that could only say: Since you're not willing to pimp your freshmen out, let me.
The girls gush at the confirmation. More people notice. Some of them take out their phones and start rapidly typing.
"Oh my gosh!" one of them shout. "I knew it! I recognized him from Oikawa-san's fan page!"
"Right, right?" her friend nods along enthusiastically.
“Say,” one of them stands up, bravely coming just an inch closer into Kageyama’s space, peering up at him expectantly. “Are you guys also offering the boyfriend rental service?”
Kageyama looks like he’s being led to his own funeral. Kuroo only looks to be too happy to play judge, jury, and executioner.
Until someone coughs to catch their attention.
"Sorry," Hinata says, without a hint of remorse at all. "But he already has a boyfriend."
The room is blanketed in silence.
“What the fuck,” is all Kageyama is able to say, beet red in the face as realization sets in.
“Thank fuck,” is all Tsukishima is only too happy to say, shoulders sagging in timely relief. “Now will you two just bone already?”
-
"All this could have been prevented," Daichi says amusedly as they put away chairs and tables. "If you had just sold yourself first instead of sacrificing my freshmen."
Kuroo glances his way apologetically. "I’m sorry,” he says. “I really am. If I’d known Kageyama and Hinata were—”
“Please,” Daichi raises a hand, stopping him. “Even Kageyama didn’t know. I bet he still doesn’t. They’re both oblivious fools, just Hinata less so.”
“Still,” Kuroo insists.
“Still,” Daichi agrees.
Then they both break off with a good-natured laugh, shaking their heads in amusement at the whirlwind of a day. Kuroo is just about to stack another chair when he says, “You know maybe I should have agreed to Lev’s suggestion earlier. The picture thing. But—ah.”
"But what?" Daichi gestures for him to keep going.
The tips of Kuroo's ears turn a shade of pink, and he can't quite meet his eyes. Outstanding conversationalist and top salesman in the making, Kuroo. This douses Daichi into full attention faster than a block of ice.
"Oh my god," Daichi snaps up straight, abandoning the chair. "What. What did you do."
"It's not me!" Kuroo has his hands out in surrender. "I just—" he starts, tries, fails. Daichi is itching to get his phone out to document this for future blackmail purposes. "...I just… have someone who'll be, um, n-not…—happy, I guess. If I look available."
Pretentious use of words, curses Daichi internally. But thank God he actually had comprehension skills.
"Dude," Daichi says, now just annoyed at Kuroo tiptoeing around him. Like he felt the need to. "So you're with someone too. Why not just say that in the first place?"
Kuroo shrugs, unsure. "We're still taking it slow?"
Daichi considers him for a moment, considering all he's observed today. "Weird," he notes. "That's not what Kenma looked like to me."
Kuroo's head snaps in his direction. "What the fuck," he says, breathless. "You knew?!"
"My brother in Christ," Daichi comes up to pat his shoulder, wincing a little. "We all knew from the beginning, you absolute baffoon of a pining idiot. If it makes you feel any better, Kenma is only slighter better at you than hiding it. You two make all of us sick."
Kuroo is barely processing his words, blinking rapidly at Daichi's slightly amused but mostly fond expression as he registers the genuineness that bleeds through. But alas, God didn't make Kuroo this fine of a specimen without sprinkling in some sinful traits every once in a while. Cats live nine lives, after all, he was good as immune.
"Oh yeah?" Kuroo combats, standing up straighter to look Daichi dead in the eye. "Like you and Sugawara are any better."
It takes less than a second for all of Daichi's face to heat up. And Kuroo, able to rise to his full height and forcibly hold Daichi's simmering head a good arm's length away from him, looks on at the rest of Karasuno and Nekoma walking and laughing and chatting idly about the gym as they pack up, the sun just shy of setting and Kenma smiling at him slightly from across the room: decides then that yeah, this life isn't so bad after all.
#kagehina#kuroken#daisuga#kurotsukki#kurodai#karaneko#nekokara#karasuno#nekoma#hinata shouyou#kageyama tobio#kuroo tetsurou#kozume kenma#sawamura daichi#sugawara koushi#tsukishima kei#haikyuu#fic
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Hi, I really like the Wonka movie and love the idea of Willy being a regressor. Could you do a scenario where he's at his shop but suddenly gets trigger and regresses?
Bittersweet
thank you so much for the request! Sorry it took a while.
Trigger warning for panic attacks, mild injury description and detailed descriptions of a trauma trigger
This fic takes place where all of the The Scrub crew are all aware of Willys regression, post movie. Also in my own AU, Their found family decide to remain close to eachother and stay in town to help with the new shop / factory.
At last the rebuilt shop had been restored, it had taken time , much longer than it had previously. For a while Wonka could hardly bare to look at it, seeing everything he worked so hard for so destroyed. But with the help of his friends and new family, they managed to restore it to her former glory. It was even improved beyond its previous, with the chocolate cherry blossom bearing a prismatic array of leaves and petals. It was somehow even more perfect than before.
Everything was going perfect that day, sales were inclining everyday. Abacus becoming chief financial advisor of the store, with the Money he had earned he was able to move both his Wife and Granddaughter to come live with him here. They were all thriving brilliantly with this new future to come.
Noodle was attending a grammar school now, but every day she would come racing to the store to help out. She was busy stocking the shelves of chocolate boxes, when she saw Willy strolling down the lane, cane swinging. Sometimes he just had to take it all in around him again, grinning at this dream he’d made come true.
“We’ve only got a few of the deluxe boxes on display Willy, they were pretty popular and they probably won’t last too long.”
Willy hopped over to take a look, the truffles in question had been increasingly popular. But it shouldn’t be a problem, he had a machine upstairs that was busy pumping out more. They had been closed for some refurbishment for a little while, but at last reopening to the public, and he couldn’t be more excited. Willy made sure to make some a quick patrol around the shop, checking in with each of his friends who were working in their own stations.
“Willy get a look at this! It’s done”
Piper called over in a sing song voice, she was busy tinkering away at a panel by the moat that surrounded the chocolate tree. Before there was just the small boat that mechanically spun around in a circuit, but this time Piper and Willy had put their heads together to something much more magic. With her mastery in plumbing, she turned a wheel until a pipe burst open into the moat. Wonkas finest melted chocolate streaming out, this time the boat needing no mechanism to cycle around. It was a perfect chocolate river spiralling around the tree, Willy whooping in excitement.
“It’s perfect!”
With clasped hands and a grin, before Piper put her arm around the chocolatier with a firm pat on the back. It was great timing too, the clock rang for 9:00am. Abacus checking his own pocket watch to be sure before calling out.
“Alright, any minute now we’re going to be open to the public again. And if my findings are correct I think it will be even busier than last time! Oh and noodle, Uniform?.”
He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, noticeably lacking the blush pink outfit. Noodle just chuckling before holding up her bag, a flash of pink fabric poking out like a flag. It had been Willy who designed such garments, everyone at first was a little unsure with how… flamboyant they were. But they quickly warmed up to them, even Abacus.
Willy just couldn’t wait for the customers to arrive, sitting himself by the glass to peer through into the gallery gourmet. In the distance seeing a cloud or people making their way up. With a smile he stood up, adjusting his new scarf over his coat, before opening the front doors.
“Welcome one and all again to the renewed Wonkas chocolate!”
-
The new grand opening was going splendidly, the chocolate river canal proving to be quite the money maker too. Only a sovereign a ride, and it created quite a line for it that wound around the shop. Which meant those waiting in line had a perfect view of everything they had on sale.
Willy had the opportunity to unveil one of his newest creations too, the everlasting gobstopper. A hard candy In which never gets smaller, no matter how much and how long you sucked on it. (Lofty had been testing one for nearly a month now)
The prismatic coloured candy was stacked into a pyramid in its new display, Noodle working the station. They were making the most money they had ever had, but that didn’t matter much to Willy. What mattered to him was being able to share his joy and magic with those willing to indulge. And this time he didn’t have the chocolate cartel to worry about, his shop was bound to become the star of the Gallery Gourmet.
“Oi Mr Wonka!”
Willy was alerted by a boy tugging on his tail coat, turning to see a familiar face. It was the young shoe shine lad he had been stopped by multiple times on his first day here.
“Where are them swirly chocolate things? Me Mam loves them.”
Willy chuckled, surprised that the boy wasn’t trying to proposition him with a shoe shine or a brush of his coat. He already had chocolate smeared across his mouth, clearly been at the free samples.
“The chocolate truffles I think you’re referring to, are just over by the display over there young man. But try and save some for your Mother though”
Willy pointed his cane in the direction of the now dwindling boxes of truffles. The boy giving him a doff of his cap before turning on heel, Willy returning it with his own top hat. He decided to go check in with Abacus, he was just finishing up with a customer. The cashier ringing joyfully as he dropped coins inside, Abacus just couldn’t believe how much they were making.
“I’d say we’ve already made double of what he did last time Willy, especially with the new gobstoppers.”
Willy grinned, everything just felt so perfect. With the extra money, he planned to raise his friend’s wages. And although she wasn’t aware, Willy had begun to collect a fund. One for Noodle, he had already promised her a lifetime of chocolate. But with the girls smarts and potential, he wanted her to have most in life. The money was for her future, if she wanted to pursue any kind of career. She had done so much for her, he wanted to do the very same for her own future.
Before he could respond, a scream cut through their conversation. The sudden noise startling Willy, almost feeling his stomach drop into his shoes. Over on the other side of the store, a crowd had grown around a young boy. A boy who was red in the face, spluttering and choking. The exact boy that Willy had spoken to just moments ago.
Abacus immediately dropped what he was doing, racing over and pushing through the crowd. Willy knew he should follow, make sure the boy was alright. It was his store, the owner.
But he didn’t, he stood there completely catatonic.
No, no. Not again, it can't happen again.
In preparation for the new opening, Willy had obsessively checked and taste tested each product. So much so that he’d gone to bed with an exceptionally sore stomach. Everything was safe, he was sure everything was safe. Abacus, Lottie and Noodle were all kneeling by the young man, Before Abacus called out.
“Call for an ambulance-“
The shop itself was spinning, and it wasn’t just the chocolate canal ride. Willy was sure that the ground itself was falling away beneath him. An ambulance? Before it had just been multicoloured hair growth or green skin pigmentation, nothing life threatening. Nothing ever in need of any medical attention.
What had he done? It’s not as if the chocolate cartel could be involved like last time. It was his fault, it had to be his fault. He felt sick, face turned white as a sheet. He lost track of how long he’d been staring, but Noodle had noticed him through the crowd and immediately ran to her elder brother figure once the boy was being taken away.
“Willy? Willy!”
She tried to get his attention, but the chocolatiers eyes were fixed ahead. His lips were trembling with his head shaking, it was scaring her. She tried her best to reassure him, knowing what he’d be thinking.
“It’s okay, Willy you didn’t-“
He broke eye contact with the scene, looking down at her with his head shaking even more violently. His eyes flooded with tears as he began to step backwards, almost like a frightened animal.
“No, nono. Not again it can’t happen- won’t happen again”
He started mumbling out almost psychotically, flinching away from noodle when she tried to touch him. Both arms up with his hands and fingers flicking in panic. It was all his fault, that young boy might even die because he had done something wrong. He had no one to blame this time, what would mamma think?
He couldn’t hear anything around him anymore, it was just static. Everything was spinning and blurring, stumbling and tripping over things as he continued to backtrack. He needed to get away, he was a coward. A coward in which had probably killed or seriously injured a child with his stupid dreams.
Noodle tried again desperately to get his attention, waving a hand in his face. It was terrifying, he didn’t look like himself. He just continued to mutter and whimper to himself, his head shaking so hard that it may pop off his shoulders. She tried to hold onto his hand again but he recoiled away in disgust like she was diseased. No matter what she was saying, it wasn’t getting through.
“Willy! You’re scaring me, let me explain-“
But he wasn’t listening, holding his hands close up to his chest protectively. His cane clattering loudly to the ground, now without his mobility aid as he kept stepping back.
He needed to get away, now. Gasping for air, he stumbled backwards, feeling for the door into the backroom of the store. But he felt into midair instead, losing his balance and crashing into one of the shelves instead.
He yelped out in surprise, the back of his head hitting wood as a one of the glass jars wobbled from its shelving before crashing down over him. The further stimulation only worsening Willys condition. Noodle screamed and attempted to grab onto him before he fell, but couldn’t in time. Shards of glass and candy fell about him like snowflakes, But Wonka hardly noticed, far too panicked and overstimulated to care about any pain.
The commotion attracted even more attention in the shop, customers looking over to see the owner sitting in a pile of glass shards. As quickly as it happened, Willy somehow managed to get back to his feet, splintering his hands and arms with the glass in panic. In a rush he managed to pull open the back door and escape from everything. Behind him he could hear people calling his name, but unable to differentiate whether it was his friends or angry rioting customers. Noodle just stood there, not sure if she should follow. Deciding instead to enlist some support before attempting to talk with him like this.
Willy’s legs felt like jelly, so he didn’t make it very far. Falling into a heap on the floor, before gasping desperately for air. He couldn’t breathe properly, tears pouring down his face before he burst into sobs. Every single terrible outcome and scenario was racing around Wonkas brain. Did he not check the ingredients correctly? What if the boy wasn’t the only one in distress? They would for sure close down the store, maybe even arrest him. It was all his fault, it was happening all over again and there was nothing he could do about it.
-
Once the child was loaded into the ambulance, the employees of Wonkas Chocolate thought it best to close up shop for today. Abacus had spoken with the ambulance attendant, who had assured him that the boy was going to be alright. It was a huge relief to everybody, and although fellow customers seemed a little unsettled by the event, it was no where near like the angry mob from before. The only irritation coming from the announcement of their early closure. Both Abacus and Piper were guiding shoppers out the front door when Noodle approached both of them, looking extremely distressed.
“It’s Willy, he’s- he’s not okay”
-
Wonka was still so deep into a panic attack, so that when the door opened and his friends entered, he hardly noticed.
Noodle gasped at the sight of him, his cut up hands from the glass had begun to bleed horribly over his hands and arms, ruining his velvet jacket. The chocolatier was curled up into a ball, hyperventilating between cries.
Noodle couldn’t help but hold onto Pipers hand, she wasn’t good with blood. Benz squeezed her hand back reassuringly, they all too often forgot she was still a child herself. So Abacus approached first, kneeling in front of the panicked boy.
“Willy, it’s alright. It’s not what you think. The boy is going to be okay.”
But It didn’t seem like Abacus’ words were getting through, He had to physically take ahold of Willys hands before he would any pay attention, his bloodshot eyes snapping up. It hurt his heart to see him like this.
“He— is. Okay?”
Willy managed to choke out between gasps, Noodle pulled away from piper to sit on the floor too, a hand comfortingly on his knee as she looked with concern. Willy Wonka was the strongest person she’d ever met, seeing him like this, it was scary.
“Yeah Willy, he just had a peanut allergy-“
Willy blinked hard, shaking his head again.
“Bb-ut I mmade a sign- i forgot to put them up?”
He began to spiral yet again, he did remember creating such labels, as it was Noodles idea. He thought it terrible luck for those who had such afflictions. But he wanted to include everyone to enjoy his creations as much as he could. With plenty of his other treats being free from such ingredients. They were even placed on the other side of the store especially to reduce any cross contamination. Had he forgotten to properly label something?
“Seems the young chap just wasn’t paying too much attention, just grabbing at any free sample he could find. It’s not your fault.”
Abacus gently rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb, before sucking through his teeth at the state of them. Willy was struggling to process this new information, his body and brain had already accepted the fact that this was all his fault.
“You need to breath Willy, in and out”
Noodle demonstrated, breathing in and blowing gently out onto his hot teary face. Willy looked up, still taking in short shallow breaths. He attempted to follow her guide, but halfway fell back into the hyperventilation.
“It’s okay buddy, try again”
Piper had come to kneel down too, smiling sadly at the sorry sight of him. It was strange seeing such a positive character so distraught. It ended up taking quite few minutes for the breathing exercises to help, with Willy leaning against Abacus as he did his best to follow his friends instructions.
At last the hyperventilation had slowed but Willy was still shaking. Biting down hard on his lower lip, tears continuing to cascade down his cheeks silently. Clicking his tongue sympathetically, Abacus pat his shaking knee. It was clearly going to take a little while for Willy to accept that this wasn’t his fault.
“You’ve had a bit of a fright, haven’t you?”
He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by his overreaction. But even with the reassurance that the boy would be alright, the anxiety was still lingering like little bugs racing up and down his skin. He was also beginning to feel that fuzzy sensation in his head again. It was like the scare had flipped a switch in his head, so he just nodded mournfully.
“Oh you poor lad”
Abacus tutted sympathetically, turning his attention to the injuries too. Gently lifting his arms to peer at them, surface wounds thankfully yet still very painful looking.
At least those could be easily fixed. Then turned to Piper with a knowing look, both of them having the same suspicion of his seemingly regressive headspace.
“We best get him upstairs to the flat, would you mind Benz?”
The woman nodded, before patting Noodle on the shoulder. Who was still staring at Willy with concern and anxiety.
“Hey noodle, how about you go help Larry and Lottie wrap up the store? We’ll take care of Willy”
Noodle wasn’t sure at first, looking back at her friend who was still in quite an upset state. but she was a little grateful for the opportunity. Seeing Willy so traumatised and bloody wasn’t an easy thing for a 13 year old to look at, especially when it was somebody she loved so much. So she quickly lunged forward to hug him tight, bearing in mind to be gentle around his arms. Even in the hug she could feel him shaking still, Willy only managing to weakly return it. When she stood up to leave she hesitated for a moment, watching as Abacus helped him onto his jittering legs.
“We’ll get him all sorted dear, you go help with the store..”
Abacus reassured her, Nodding after one more hesitant glance. She trusted them to look after Willy, they all cared for him so.
“Now then, let’s get you upstairs.”
Piper held the chocolatier up, watching how his legs were knocked kneed like a newborn fawn. Holding an arm over him to help him move on forward.
“Mmsorry”
Willy mumbled. Although he could sense the obvious regression taking its hold, he felt like such a silly burden. But when he they came up to his spiral staircase to his flat, he couldn’t help but moan. His stupid legs felt completely useless, almost like they were made from gummy candy.
“It’s okay buddy, but I don’t think these stairs are gonna be the smartest plan for you right now”
Before he could respond, he yelped as he was lifted up, then being settled on the plumbers hip. Seeing her grin mischievously as she held him steady. Willys face burning in surprise, but the action just made him feel even more fuzzy.
“How can someone who eats mainly chocolate be so little? He’s like a bird?”
Piper hushed over Willy to Abacus, who just chuckled at the comment.
“Little I think is definitely the correct adjective for right now, the poor boy's had such a fright"
There was a part of Willy that wanted to object to the accusation that he was feeling little, but even he knew they were likely right. He needed it terribly. And now that the adrenaline of everything was fading, he could truly feel the pain in his arms. Eyes widening in fear when taking actual sight of them, he didn’t like blood.
So he just squeezed his eyes shut right, pushing his head into pipers shoulder. The woman in question looking over at Abacus at the action, lips pursed at just how adorable this was. If it weren’t for such a bad situation, she would be skipping in joy. Why Willy had decided to implement such a fancy staircase (when he often needed his cane) was beyond them. Sometimes the chocolatier forgot about practicality, always wanting the extravaganza.
-
At last they made it upstairs to a landing, Abacus opening the mahogany door into Wonkas flat. The inside was extremely cosy, its interior inspired from his old canal boat home from when he was a child. A sloped curved ceiling with lots of warm colours and carved wooden decor. It was pretty simple and homey, the kitchenette and lounge taking up the room. A very large window looked down below to the gallery gourmet, with a small workshop set up against it, an ornate machine churning out singular chocolates. Then finally Willy’s bed up a few steps to an upper level of the room itself.
There was were two other doors on either side of the reasonably size room, one normal one leading to a bathroom. The other door abnormally small? Only around a metre in height. But that didn’t matter just now, the pair walking further inside before Piper settled Willy down on the couch.
“There we go, home and safe now.”
She comforted, hating how fragile and anxious he seemed. The presence of his home brought some comfort though, Willy reaching out to stroke the ribbed corduroy fabric of his lounge. Not before Abacus quickly lifted his hands away in alarm.
“Ah-ah! I’m sorry Willy but I will not have you smearing blood into that furniture”
He chastised only gently, the pale pink fabric being very easy to stain, and even harder to wash out.
“Wasn’t gonna..”
Willy mumbled, but his eyes did widen when he peered at his injured hands again. They were starting to really sting now, and he could catch the shiny glint of glass that was still imbedded.
“I should hope not, that chaise lounge just so happens to be one of my favourite pieces of decor in this accommodation”
A sharp pertinent voice cut through, not before Piper let out a yelp in surprise. Standing between them was a very small orange man, who just rolled his eyes at the reaction.
“Oh please Ms Benz, you have squealed many times at my presence. I’m tired of being revered like a mouse around a circus elephant”
The Oompa Loompa was holding an empty teacup in hand, he was only departing from his own room to tidy it away. Not expecting the flat to suddenly be busy with uninvited guests.
“Well if I’m the ‘circus elephant’ in that analogy, I’d be careful I don’t send you through that window with the kick of my boot.”
Piper threatened, stamping her foot in his direction. She wasn’t so keen on Lofty, his uptight attitude drove her up the wall. And she still hadn’t got used to his small presence, maybe it was because when he was a child she used to have nightmares and a very irrational fear of gnomes of all things.
Abacus himself also was a little surprised by the little orange man’s entrance, but was able to behave more tactfully than Piper. He’d only spoken with Lofty very little, the Oompa Loompa preferring much more to stay to himself with his job in the tasting department.
“Now would somebody care to explain what has happened here?”
Lofty came to the front to peer at Willy, grimacing at the sight of his injury. But he was even more curious about the strange manner that Wonka seemed to be in. Willy had tucked his knees to his chest as he anxiously flicked his fingers, he certainly wasn’t his usual overly positive and often irritating self.
“We had a bit of a situation in the shop, poor lad went into anaphylaxis. He’s going to be alright, but Willy here got quite the fright”
Lofty raised his eyebrows, it still didn’t quite explain the bloody arms though. But the possibility of that lounge being stained was his main concern.
“I’ll go fetch my first aid kit before he gets blood on anything else in here that I have the slightest attachment to.”
Lofty said with mild disgust before turning on heel to his room. Willy himself still looked pretty miserable, but more exhausted than anything. Piper just wanted to scoop the boy up into her lap and squeeze him tight, although she wasn’t sure if it would be appreciated right now. The group was then startled for a moment from a noise clearly coming from downstairs, a creaking metal noise.
“BENZ! WE TRIED TO TURN THE CHOCOLATE VALVE OFF BUT ITS NOW STUCK AT MAX PRESSURE”
A whiny yell came out clearly from a distressed Larry chucklesworth who had turned the chocolate river valve in the wrong direction, doubling its pressure as it pumped out melted chocolate.
“For Petes sake! I’m coming you idiot!.”
Piper sighed out in exasperation, pinching her brow. She had specifically told everybody not to touch it, she was still sorting out all the kinks. She did catch a small giggle coming from Willy though, happy to see at least it had made him smile.
“I better go sort out that mess downstairs, you be good for Abacus and that sunburnt gnome”
She leant down and gave him a peck on the cheek, wishing she could spend some more time with the little chocolatier. Turning Willys face bright pink, unable to hide a smile at the affection. As Piper turned to leave, she had to quickly jump at the arrival of Lofty yet again. Whom arms were filled with a leather first aid kit, rolling his eyes at the woman who quite nearly flattened him beneath her boots.
“If you could please move to the floor, I’m not risking anything with that lounge.”
Lofty demanded, Looking up at the two remaining men as best he could from behind the first aid case. Willy obeyed and slid down to the floor, sitting crosslegged. His head was feeling very fuzzy now, and he looked up at abacus with whine, wanting him to sit too.
“I think I’ll just sit here if you don’t mind Lad, I don’t think I could get back up from the floor if I sat down”
Abacus chuckled, perching instead on the couch. But still kept a comforting hand on his shoulder, gently massaging back and forth to soothe him. Lofty had been watching the interaction with a raised brow, something was certainly going on. So as he began to unpack some supplies, he bluntly questioned.
“Alright, if I could be informed of what’s going on right here, it would be very much appreciated. I’m quite positive this reaction is far beyond than a child choking on a peanut, especially with those injuries of which still nobody has explained how they came to be.”
He curtly asked, whilst pulling out some bandages, gentian violet and some tweezers for those glass shards. Abacus awkwardly cleared his throat, looking over at Willy whose face had darkened. Although the Oompa Loompa had been residing with him for a while now, his regression was something that he hadn’t yet disclosed with him. Although all his friends had been amazingly supportive and loving, it was still a very peculiar topic to try and explain. Lofty was already quite judgemental most of the time, what if he found this weird and gross?
Willy brought his knees up to his chest anxiously, staying silent in a panic. He didn’t want Lofty to hate him. But he felt a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, Abacus smiling kindly.
“Would you like me to explain?”
He suggested, especially since it seemed the boy wasn’t feeling so verbal right now. Willy looked up and thought about it for a moment, before giving him a nod. He didn’t know how to put his words right for this. All the while Lofty has continued to observe the interaction, shoe tapping on the floor impatiently.
“Alright, i believe you should know regardless as you share a residency with Willy. Sometimes when he gets overwhelmed, Mr Wonka finds it a little hard to stay grown.”
Abacus carefully explained to the little orange man across from him, who frowned in confusion.
“Grown? I can’t see any sign of him shrinking in size, he looked to be the same height as before since I last checked.”
The Oompa Loompa positioned both hands into a viewfinder over the chocolatier, nope, still the same size. Abacus couldn’t help but laugh at the misunderstanding, wishing this could be easier to explain.
“No not in physical size, more like he feels a little younger. Where he needs a little extra care and support, like a child.”
At this point Willy wanted to sink through the floor, not daring to check the Oompa Loompas facial expression. Instead picking at the fabric of his slacks, the small bigger part of him wanted to end this conversation and say that Abacus was just talking utter nonsense, but he didn’t have the energy to do so. He was tired, all he wanted was for his arms to stop hurting and for someone to hold him for a while.
“So what you’re saying that Mr Wonka here regresses to infancy when unsettled?”
Lofty questioned the man, it was difficult to discern his tone. After all, most of the time when he spoke it sounded as if you had offended him in some way. But when he looked at the mannerisms and body language of Willy, he certainly seemed very different than usual.
“Well, when you put it bluntly. Yes you’re correct, but I hope that you won’t be too judgemental. This is something Mr Wonka cannot help, and we shouldn’t be cruel about it.”
Abacus’s voice began to become colder as he finished his sentence, it wasn’t something Willy was used to ever hearing, looking up in slight alarm. Abacus was staring down at the Oompa Loompa almost threateningly, daring him to respond. In response, Lofty snorted after a pause.
“Hm, very peculiar I must say, but I suppose he already acts rather immaturely most of the time regardless.”
Was all he said before completely moving on, returning to prepare the first aid equipment. Acting as if Abacus had just requested he pass the sugar over to him. Both Willy and Abacus were surprised by well, the lack of reaction.
“Now then, please take off that coat show me your arms. I need to know what I’m working with here”
Willy paused for a moment, still expecting some kind of response, insult or anything. But let Abacus carefully ease him out of the blood soaked jacket before displaying his arms outwards, with the Oompa Loompas only sign of disgust so far being directed at the injuries.
“Goodness you’ve made quite the mess of yourself haven’t you?”
Abacus nodded in agreement, before wincing when seeing the state of them properly in the light.
“Indeed, he took a bit of a tumble into one of the displays. One of our crystal chocolate jars paying the price.”
Lofty just sighed, typical Wonka behaviour. He’d never met a person so terminally clumsy sometimes and foolish.
“Of course he did, now I’m going to need you to stay very still. I’m going to remove these glass shards before they get infected.”
He held up the tweezers, Willy shrinking away in alarm at the metal instrument. He didn’t want it to hurt. But Abacus rubbed his back supportively, assuring him it would be fine. As promised, Lofty was impeccably careful as he removed each tiny shard from his arms and hands, his very small hands working in his favour for the task. Back in Loompa land he had a friend whom was the islands herbalist, so he only had some experience when it came to medicine.
He placed each glinting piece into a dish by the table, and once satisfied there was none remaining he reached for the little purple bottle.
“This is an antiseptic I assume?”
Lofty questioned the mathematician, handing the violet bottle up to him. The man pulled a face when reading the label, knowing from experience that this stung viciously.
“Alright, this may sting a little”
-
It did in fact sting quite a lot, as soon as Lofty applied the purple tonic. Willy yelping and flinching away. The pain had just begun to settle when they’d reached upstairs, but now it felt as if someone had set a match upon his skin. And with how sensitive he was already feeling, fresh tears began to spill over and he did his best to squirm away.
“Now i understand it hurts, but it will feel a lot worse later if you don’t allow me to finish Mr Wonka”
In the end Abacus ended up having to retreat from the couch, Willy positioning himself into his lap for security from the horrible anti-septic. He was perhaps feeling the smallest he ever had, and even with Lofty there he didn’t have the willpower to mask it. Eventually with enough comforting words and support from Abacus, Lofty had successfully painted either arm and hand with the bright purple medicine.
“See, we’re done now. There was no need for that silly nonsense”
Lofty chastised as he screwed the cap on the glass bottle again, but he still didn’t seem very fussed about the dramatic change in headspace. More irritated by what he deemed was a bit of an overreaction. Next reaching for the roll of bandages, but this time Willy was much more reproachful about offering his arms back over to the Oompa Loompa, scowling at him best he could.
“I don’t appreciate that expression directed at me, I was just going to wrap your arms up. Unless of course you would prefer Mr Crunch to do so?”
He spoke with crossed arms, but found the grumpy expression slightly entertaining. Especially with his forlorn tearstained face which worked against his attempt to be threatening.
“I could if you’d prefer, but that would mean i would need to tip you from my lap to do so.”
Abacus explaining his options, thanking heaven above regardless that the man was very light and he was only losing partial blood flow to his legs.
“But you are certainly not welcome in my own, I’ve been in danger of being crushed once too many times today.”
Willy thought about it for moment, finding the embrace around him far too comfortable to give up quite just yet. So reluctantly pointed at lofty rather rudely.
“He do it”
“Can Lofty do it please would be much politer thank you very much”
He corrected with a firm expression, but began to unroll the bandages regardless. Carefully he applied the bandage around each skinny arm, all the while Willy just back leant into Abacus throughout the process. He was so tired, all he wanted was to sleep. By the time Lofty was finished, the boy was practically half asleep.
“That’s you done now, very brave”
Willy dozily inspected his new bound arms, before letting out a big yawn. Even lofty finding it a little endearing, revealing out a small smile before quickly replacing it with his usual frown.
“I think we best get you tucked up for a little rest, shall we?”
Willy nodded, and reluctantly allowed Abacus to tip him off his lap so he could stand again. The poor gentleman groaned in pain as he stood up, he was certainly far too old for this.
“Mm-head hurts”
Wonka mumbled out, his skull feeling as if it had been stuffed with cotton wool. Infact most of his body was starting to feel very sore and weak.
“Well no wonder it hurts with all that silly crying, but I give you permission to return to that lounge. Now that it’s no longer in danger of being stained by bodily fluids.”
Lofty said distastefully, motioning for Willy to get up and move. Kindly Abacus helping him up to his feet again, which was desperately needed as he had forgotten his cane downstairs in the store.
He practically collapsed back down onto the couch, sighing in relief to finally be lying down. His entire body felt as if it had been put through the laundry ringer at scrubbits. A few moments later he felt Abacus tuck a thick blanket around his frame, the one that had been stretched across his bed.
In his dozing state, he instinctively reached out for something. Face screwing up a little when realising it obviously wasn’t going to be there.
“What on earth are you looking for?”
Lofty questioned, clearly seeing the man feeling around in complete thin air.
“Chester”
Willy mumbled out , he was so tired but he still needed his companion, especially right now. Lofty’s slow blink was practically audible, shaking his head before turning to the mathematician who had busied himself with folding up the velvet jacket. Planning on taking it back personally to soak it out, even though he’d left the laundry business, it still stuck with him.
“Would you mind translating what on earth he is requesting?”
Abacus just smiled, remembering that name very clearly. So he just pointed up at the bed, knowing it would he the most likely location.
“Check underneath the pillow of Mr Wonkas bed.”
With a raised eyebrow and a lot of confusion, the Oompa Loompa reluctantly followed the direction. Only feeling more lost when lifting the pillow and finding the contents beneath.
“Is this some kind of rag?”
He held up a small knitted bird with an extended arm, its head lolling to the side rather unsettlingly. Willy spotted the item immediately though, lifting his own head up from the couch with a whine.
“Chester..”
Loftys confused frown remained, able to put together the clues that this amalgamation of wool must be “Chester” Mr Wonka did seem very concerned about it though, so he quickly handed it over to him. The little bird being clung close to his chest, with its misshapen beak poking out under his chin. It was all so ludicrous, it was just a silly inanimate object.
But he saw how the boy began to settle again at its presence. Eyes closing at last as his breathing became slower and deeper. For the first time since he’d seen the man that afternoon, he looked genuinely at peace. From behind him he heard the accountant approaching, who was holding two cups of tea, one being marginally smaller.
“Think we could both do with one”
Lofty accepted the offer, the pair sitting in the kitchenette. Both of them looking over at the now fast asleep chocolatier on the lounge. A comfortable silence between the two as they just took the time to wind down, the scene would probably look extremely strange to an any outsider if they happened to wander inside. Abacus smiled fondly as he noticed the knitted toucans wing being gently chewed on as Wonka slept.
“Thank you, for being understanding about this. This is a part of him that not many know or care to understand, but I believe it’s something very special to be trusted with”
He said to the Oompa Loompa, who had also been observing the chocolatiers behaviour. It was rather fascinating.
“But, I won’t hold it against you if this is a little too strange for you. This manner of coping is certainly unconventional”
He continued, wanting to assure him. He remembered that Noodle had been a little apprehensive about it all when he first explained the regression to her. And Willy had been extremely firm in the fact that he never wanted to be a burden to anybody or make them feel uncomfortable. Lofty stayed silent for a few moments, draining the cup of tea before answering.
“You are speaking with somebody who comes from a tropical island populated only by 2ft tall orange men. I think you would find good reason to label me as a hypocrite if i were to judge Mr Wonka negatively for this.”
He paused in his statement, looking over again at the boy with the smallest of a smile
“Is it a little peculiar? Definitely, but I suppose we all must learn to be open minded when it comes to things we don’t quite understand yet.
And on one hand, I may find it a little endearing too, at least he’s less irritating than usual, aside from all the tears.”
And with that, he turned again to the man across the table. Nonchalant as always.
“Anyways, how about you go hunting for some of those truffles. I’m sure Wonka always hides them out of my reach”
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The Pyrophone
@thalassastra and @janetm74 said on a post ages ago that they would like to see Virgil play a pyrophone. I can't make that happen because I can't draw, but here's a fic about it instead :-)
I posted this a couple of weeks ago as a WIP Wednesday and lots of you were very nice about it, so I hope you enjoy the ending. It's written in the TAG universe but there's a TOS reference in it.
Very minor warning that a pyrophone works on small controlled explosions in glass tubes. Otherwise no warnings at all.
_______________________
“Good evening Mr Tracy. I'm Sophie and I'm going to be your guide this evening.”
“Hi Sophie. Please call me Scott. And this is my brother Virgil.”
Scott gestured towards Virgil, who was admiring a large model train set for sale in the museum shop area near where they were standing.
“Hi Sophie” Virgil replied, suddenly paying attention. “Perhaps you could show us our dad’s space section first?”
“Yes of course” Sophie nodded at Virgil, turned round and started walking towards the entrance to the museum galleries. Scott and Virgil followed her. She was a petite woman, about their age with a bright red bob.
Scott was so pleased the museum had created an exhibition for Dad’s collection from his space missions. They had so many artefacts from the missions stored on Tracy Island, and Scott was keen to display them to inspire a new generation of space enthusiasts. The museum’s offer had been excellent, to display the items alongside interactive exhibits in a large space. Now they’d invited Scott to check he was happy with it before it opened.
Scott had no particular idea why Virgil had wanted to come along too, especially since it would have usually been Alan and John with the particular space interest. Virgil usually left these things to Scott but he seemed interested and Scott wasn’t about to quiz his adult brother on his reasons.
Sophie showed them the exhibit and both brothers were really pleased. Scott said as much to Sophie, who replied that was what the museum did best, bringing objects to life and explaining their current and historic relevance whilst displaying the originals.
Scott noticed that although Sophie was polite, she clearly wasn't a space enthusiast or had a particular interest in speed. He wondered why she’d been allocated this job in particular, since clearly somebody with more energy for the topic had set up the exhibition.
He thought about saying that to Virgil, but then he knew what Virgil would say, you think she’s unenthusiastic because she’s not flirting with you.
The in-his-head Virgil was probably right.
After about an hour Scott and Virgil both agreed that they'd seen everything they needed. “Thank you so much for giving up your time this evening Sophie. Virgil and I have seen all we need to see. The exhibition is fantastic and I hope Alan can join you for opening day next week.”
“Oh” Sophie looked confused. “Have you changed your mind?”
Scott looked at her with a blank look, and Sophie's face changed to crestfallen. “I just … I was told Mr Tracy would like to play the pyrophone and I …” Sophie trailed off and looked at the floor as Virgil walked over.
“There's more than one Mr Tracy” Virgil said with a knowing smile.
Sophie paused for a moment, then processed the meaning and her face lit up. “Oh fantastic. I just need to turn the valve on the gas pipe and run the checks. I've put in colour salts for the notes, I hope you don't mind. I rather like the colours in the tubes” she said with a slight blush.
“Even better” Virgil replied.
Scott was still confused, but one question stood out. ‘Gas pipe?’
“Yes” Sophie said, as if the need for this was obvious. “It’s a pyrophone, your brother can’t play it without the gas to make the notes. Come on through and you can read about how it works before we hear it. I’m so excited for this, I’m learning to play but I’m struggling with the bass clef.”
Scott found himself following Virgil and Sophie through a hallway to a different room. Sophie was now talking extremely quickly in an animated fashion about shaping glass and Virgil seemed fascinated.
There were two musical instruments in the room which resembled church organs. Both had keyboards, but the pipes were made of glass. One was stored in a huge glass case and was obviously very old. The other looked fairly new and had a stool in front of the keyboard ready to play.
Scott scanned the information board between the two instruments. It said they were both pyrophones, which made musical sounds by having small explosions within the glass tubes. The shape of the tubes and exact position of the tiny explosion made the musical sound.
Scott looked over at Virgil, who had produced some sheet music from somewhere and was grinning with excitement. Sophie had disappeared.
“Virgil!” Scott whispered.
“Yes?”
“Is this safe?”
“Very safe. I’ve checked all the designs and it works perfectly. Automatic cut off switches are on the instrument and the gas supply. There's fire suppressors in the room.”
“And you really want to play this thing?”
“Yes! It’s magnificent. Look at the precision involved in the engineering of the glass. The tubes will light up with colour. The sound is unique …”
“Of course it’s unique! Nobody is going to put a fire breathing musical instrument in their house are they?”
Virgil used the full force of his eyebrows to scowl at Scott and folded his arms. “We have a rocket under ours.”
No further replies were given because Sophie reappeared. The professional instinct to never argue in front of a rescuee kicked in, even though nobody needed rescuing. Scott hoped they all didn’t need rescuing soon from an instrument invented by the 1860’s incarnation of Langstrom Fischler.
“Everything is ready” Sophie announced, beaming.
“Thank you Sophie.” Virgil turned and sat at the instrument without looking at Scott again.
Scott wondered how long it would take him to fly One here remotely. Then again, he could sit and catch up with his admin. He was so behind with so many things recently, so many people needed rescuing. He’d been so hopeful about the GDF’s rescue robots giving them a break but it hadn’t happened.
Virgil was always telling him he should take a break anyway, so he sat in a comfy chair in the corner of the room, found his phone from his pocket and resolved to sort through the endless messages staff at Tracy Industries hadn’t been able to deal with.
He didn’t read them. Not that night anyway.
Virgil began to play the pyrophone and Scott admitted Virgil had been right. The Pyrophone did sound like nothing he’d heard before. It was a soft sound despite how it was being made, and when Scott looked up rainbows were being created in the tubes with the colour salts Sophie mentioned earlier.
He put his phone down and watched and listened. Virgil was playing his own version of ‘Dangerous Game’ a song Kayo and Gordon particularly liked and played endlessly. Scott had no idea who the artist was, for which Gordon constantly reminded him that he was old and not cool.
Virgil’s version was better. If that was not cool so be it.
Another thing Virgil had been right about was his need to have a rest. A rest didn’t mean doing paperwork. He couldn’t remember the last time he sat and listened to his brother play, or managed to watch a whole film with his family without feeling that he should be doing something else.
A notification popped up on his phone, which he resolutely ignored. If anybody needed rescuing a holographic John would appear, so whatever it was could wait.
Virgil had moved onto a jazz tune that Scott didn’t know by name but he knew he’d heard Virgil play on the piano.
Scott pulled up the low table near the chair, put his feet up on it, slouched down in his chair, shut his eyes and listened to the music with a warm feeling inside. Yes, Grandma would have killed him for doing that in public, but the museum was only open for him and his pyrophone-playing brother.
A scraping suddenly made him jump. Sophie had pulled up another chair, put her own feet on the table and was holding out a bucket of popcorn for him. He smiled and took a handful.
Not quite popcorn with an action movie, but wow he needed this.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds fanfiction#sailingonapuddle fanfic#virgil tracy#scott tracy#earth and sky#earth sky and sophie#the pyrophone
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NEUVILLETTE
final verdict
angst
MAIN MASTERLIST | HYDRO MASTERLIST
.
part 1 | part 2 (you are here!)
If both parts do well, I’ll write an alternate ending!
Summary: You were falsely accused of a horrific crime, and the verdict is announced... you do not take it well. And neither does Neuvillette. But you both have to accept the fate chosen. Set before the 4.2 archon quest.
Warnings? Inspired by the 4.2 Archon quest, so be cautious if you haven't completed it yet! This is rusty because I haven't written in so long. I am so so so so so so sorry! I'm trying my best! (L/N) means Last Name!
DEATH. IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, THEN TURN AWAY NOW. DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU!!
Contains the appearance of Furina, Wriothesley, and Neuvillette of course!
So this was it.
You never would have guessed that your life would come to an end this early. Especially like this. When you were a young teenager, you always dreamed of finding the right person to spend the rest of your life with, having a family, travel around Teyvat. That dream stuck with you until your sentencing.
You now have no dreams. Apart from hoping to be realised as innocent before it is too late. That's what you hope for.
You were currently held in a cell by yourself with nothing to do, confined to what little space you had to roam in. You have no idea where this said cell is either.
You've asked the guards when you've had the chance, countless times to talk to the Iudex, aka Neuvillette. Because he surely must know what's going on and how to fix it. But they've ignored you every time, or just said no. You pray to Celestia whenever you can in hopes something goes in your favour.
If only you realised earlier on that that would never happen.
Meanwhile, outside of your imprisonment, Fontaine was in the midst of a storm, it has been raining on and off ever since your sentencing, there haven't been any trials since, and Neuvillette has either confined himself in his office or somewhere where no one thought to look for him, he could openly let his tears fall without being questioned.
Of all people, why you? he openly wept. What was never said during the trial was that you weren't by yourself when the crime was committed. You, in fact, were with Neuvillette himself.
The streets of the city were practically empty as it was dark out, the only sounds that could be heard were distant people closing up their shops, or animals roaming the streets, you two were taking a walk, catching up after not seeing each other for a little while as you both had other things to do.
If only they knew.
You are innocent.
Time past. The sky has been grey for a while now, and florists have had a decline in sales since the sun has been hidden behind the clouds and nothing will grow correctly or as strongly as it should.
Soon enough. The time had come.
And the whole city already knew. It was in the tabloids straight away and it was days before.
You knew that many people would see this and put it in the papers, Neuvillette and your family would see it too.
You had handcuffs on your wrist behind your back, head down as you walked, Wriothesley was walking by you, looking forward, not turning to speak or look in your general direction, he was tasked to guide you in case you were to suddenly attack for whatever reason, it was hard for him, as you have met him a few times too. He was basically turned against you, against your will.
Furina was somewhere. She had to be. She would have wanted to see this, even if it's such a sick thought, wanting to watch someone die right in front of them.
Sick.
Before you knew it, you were shackled. If you wanted to run, you couldn't.
You hadn't seen Neuvillette or heard of him recently. You wonder how he's doing, how he's doing with the news and recent events.
You heard someone talk once you were in place. But you couldn't hear nor register who it was or what they were saying.
You were in some sort of glass chamber with a set of pipes from above. People were gathered to watch. Most of the people that were gathered were the people who thought that you deserved it, they were happy about the current position you were in.
People of authority were there.
Furina, Wriothesley,...
Neuvillette.
The both of you made eye contact, he saw the tears in your eyes and the fear on your face. He just wanted to freeze time and save you, keep you safe and clear your name.
If only that was possible.
There were more lines spoken by... someone before your attention was drawn to the sounds from the pipes above you.
You really hoped for someone to run into the room and stop what was going on, proving your innocence.
But that never came.
Everything that happened next went by so fast that it made everything seem so... quiet.
The pipes burst open.
You were so scared you couldn't move or scream.
You and Neuvillette made eye contact for one last time.
The water raged through the pipes, spraying everywhere inside the chamber, engulfing you.
You felt numb. You could no longer feel anything. Physically nor emotionally.
You felt yourself begin to fade away in more ways than once.
A wave splashed over your head, Neuvillette looked away as it happened, and he closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
Who knows how long this storm in Fontaine will go on for.
The chamber soon drained of the seawater, and nothing was in it.
And seeing as you were from Fontaine,
you had been dissolved.
...and the people cheered. They thought the criminal had been dealt with. But only some knew the truth.
Days later.
More rain.
Neuvillette was in the middle of a trail when someone barged into the court. All eyes were on them. They were asked what their business was doing here.
They found out you were innocent.
If only they knew.
You were always innocent.
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More long long work blather, because whatever, you get cuts.
So the storage situation, her over-ordering things, AND there being too many kinds of things is getting irritating. It's like trying to organize my basement.
So, here's the current layout, not at all to scale.
Green are shelves of stuff, both food and non-food though mostly food. I won't bore you with how it's all set up. The organization there by category is satisfying enough, but there's too much product, too varied product, and it's sloppy. There should be a little more green surrounding the bull pit and there are more short green ones in front of the bull pit, but it's already fussy.
Nothing more can be put in front of the bull pit because there are glass cases there with the pipes and things. I forgot to put it, but there's another locked case by freezer 3 with more pipes and things.
Blue are coolers. I missed the micro fridge that's near 7, and there's a small hand sink in there, too.
1 was non-alocholic drinks but she moved some of the alcoholic drinks into that cooler last week, which I think was a bad idea. A better solution to there being too much stuff in the beer cave would be to order less stuff.
2 is "the beer cave" which customers are allowed to go into, though they shouldn't be because everything is crammed in there really sloppy and there's a risk of customers knocking stuff over onto themselves and getting hurt. That's how big multipacks of beer are made available to customers, though now many of them are in the lower parts of the original beer cave doors.
3 is the freezer with the deli meat stuff in it. Since it opens from the top, the wall space there is not being used.
4 is the ice machine which customers should not touch, and 5 is the bags of ice customers can take.
6 is another top-loading freezer with ice cream in it.
7 is both a standing cooler with stuff like lunchables and pre-packed sandwiches in it, and then a long cooler that runs under the countertop which is where deli sandwiches are.
The big, unmarked rectangles and stuff across the front of the store are counter tops where the soda, coffee, slushies, and hot food are, the atm, and the lottery machine.
Yellow are storage. All of the sodas and deli stuff get put into the cooler (1), nothing is organized, and nothing is easy to get to. Returns and damaged product are also in there.
Beer cave is also cold storage, but only beer and things like hard lemonade go in there.
O is the office, and the grey rectangle near O is the big sink. There are lots of other machines in there like the water heater and soda fountain syrup set up, etc., and then one small shelf for supplies like trash bags, ice bags, etc.
B is the bathroom. ? is probably another bathroom but I don't actually know. Maybe it's already being used as storage but I've never been in there to get anything so it's probably just an unused bathroom.
-
So, if I had the money and the go ahead to do whatever I wanted with the store.....
tl:dr I would have less shit on the sales floor and a lot more dry storage, a less is more set up.
First I would reduce the variety of things we have. That seems counterintuitive when you're considering customers might want all those things. They do, sometimes, but there's no room. Something has to give.
We would actually monitor which flavors of, say, bagged mini donuts actually sell and which really don't, and only order the big sellers, for example. That would disappoint a few customers, but they'd be ok.
I'd put all the alcoholic beverages back in one area (2) and order less.
I would gut the ?bathroom, remove the door and wall to improve air flow, and move the ice maker and deli freezer in there. If there's room, I'd also add a small counter space and a sink so that deli sandwiches were made THERE instead of on a tiny 6in by 1ft shelf on the mini fridge in the bull pit because that's annoying. The top of the mini fridge is angled because there's a lift-up door. It's hard to work, there, and customers constantly interrupt so whomever is making sandwiches should be left alone. Under the counter space I'd add a mini fridge or two to keep the cheese in, and wall shelves for the deli bread. Keep it all together and not cause condensation in the bread bags.
Having a dedicated sandwich making place would also make it easier to keep that space CLEAN because there wouldn't be people coming in and out all of the time and that area isn't exposed to customers at all.
Considering we're only actually using half the deli freezer as it is and the other half is full of ice build up and product that is unsellable, it could be replaced with a smaller one, maybe a proper deep-freeze with a lift-up door that seals better and can also be used as work space if needed.
_Those bathrooms may be larger or smaller than I think they are. I've never been in either room, and B and ? could be swapped, I don't really care which is the bathroom.
I'd rearrange the sales floor a lot and build another wall, turning a segment of the store space (which in reality wouldn't be that big.... this is not to scale like I said) into dry storage space and add an employees only sign to that door because people will come in and beeline for that hallway assuming that's where the public bathroom is.
The angled door makes sure we can still see into that corner, and that is where I would put big things that are difficult to steal anyway, like the firewood and bags of ice.
I'd also add a saloon door with an employees only sign to the other hallway because they do the same thing over there and I have to chase them down, and omit the yellow storage behind there completely since that's the path service people like plumbers would have to take if there were a problem with the sink or water heater, etc. and should be clear, or at least I'd instead put some shallow shelving that's meant for only small dry goods like the snack cakes, or store supplies. Right now it's head-high stacks of tallboy cans and it makes me nervous.
Lots of dry storage would let us have better looking, more organized shelves on the floor because it wouldn't need to be severely overstuffed just to get product out of boxes that also are left all around the sales floor.
I'd reduce the wine from 4 rows to 1. They're just... Not selling. I mean, a few are or else I wouldn't be constantly refilling those few, and with good inventory management and sales tracking, we'd only buy those.
I'd omit the big locked case that was by freezer 3 completely. I've only gotten into that case one time, and have only ever seen another employee need to get in there one time. Maybe it's more busy at other times, I don't know.
We have too many varieties of vapes, CBD, Kratom, etc. products. One locked case, the countertop displays that only open from the register side, and the "showcases" should be sufficient. Since those don't scan, there's no good inventory or sales tracking, and with good sales tracking, only what sells would be ordered.
Notice a trend?
Then I'd use the wall where the freezer was for light bags like candy up to eye level, small snacks, etc. with some shallow shelves lower down for various sweet food products like cookies, and put the toys in a bin on the ground level where kids can see them instead of up on the top.
I'd get rid of some of the hot food machines because they're barely used. There's a hot dog roller that I've only seen food in once, a popcorn machine that's never had popcorn in it, a pizza spinner thing that I have sold a couple slices from but we could just not, a giant pretzel spinner but you can't have those pretzels, you have to ask for them out of the cold food case where the deli sandwiches are and they're pre-packed, so we could just put a mini cold case out there with the pretzels in it, or put a big countertop one and put some of the deli stuff in it, OR use that space for room-temp pastries and local stuff so we could clear off a little of the counter around the bullpit which would give us more working space and a much better view of the store.
Manager tends to do computer work sitting on one chair with the laptop on another chair, hiding behind the tall cigarette case in the center of the bull pit and the tops of the showcases are also glass so we can't put anything heavy there, which means not being able to do a lot of work, there.
......
I would put a fridge case out back where expiring product could be placed for people to come take for free.
There's probably more stuff that I'm forgetting, but I'm getting hungry and do tend to lose focus when I'm hungry.
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Have you ever seen such a geometric marvel of a house? Built in 1970 on the coast of Gleneden Beach, Oregon, "The Hippie House," as it's known, has 2bd 2ba and is listed for $799K.
Look at how cute the little entrance area is.
This home is just as geometric inside as it is outside. It has beautiful wood and stone floors. Look at how well-used the rusty fireplace is. You can tell that the home is enjoyed.
The stovepipe looks like a tree.
So fascinated by the pipes.
Isn't the kitchen unique? Look at the round openings in the cabinetry. In the photo above, there appears to be water damage on the wood from the ceiling on down.
Here's a lovely music/family room. The lights look like turtles.
Check out this deep tin tub and the beautiful stained glass window.
Hmmm, there's some water damage by the window on the right and it's right next to an electrical outlet.
I'm assuming that this is one of the bedrooms. That ladder must go to a loft above.
This bedroom also has a ladder and it looks like the beds are located up in the lofts of both rooms.
The home is between 2 rivers and a lagoon. There's also a golf course and the house sits on .43 acre of land.
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