#Goods Store

[pangur-and-grim]

I'm turning 30 this month, and for some reason have become suddenly interested in material possessions. like what if,,,,,,,,my couch was nice. what if my sheets were nice. is this what happens to you??

[phantomrose96]

My sort of maybe embarrassing “late to the game” thing I’m learning now is how to tell if oil has gone bad.

I feel like most other foods have obvious visual tells like mold or they end up smelling foul and obviously bad. But I was googling about oil and the internet says “if it smells like crayons, it’s bad” which would not have been my first guess. And I tested it out on my somewhat old sesame oil and was like “by god, I would describe this as smelling like crayons”

Anyway protip if your old oil smells kinda like crayons it’s probably no good 🖍️

[sunlitsoil]

there is always tomorrow

[sticksandsharks]

you can now be just like this tech-savvy ba'iby and get the PDF version of Sacred Bodies on my online store!

[dovewingkinnie]

dr sawyer is very cat shaped

[mewvore]

found a jean bustier at the thrift store. the justier

[redstonedust]

i have to wonder how effective the rules for minimum wage workers even are because personally if i go into a store and they have sales staff robotically approaching me asking if i need help i go "uhh no im just looking" and then leave because i feel awkward. meanwhile if i go into a store and the cashier is sitting down on their phone im like "hey dude 👋" and browse comfortably. because it feels like im shopping at an actual business run by real people and not a dystopian hell hole.

[bookishpraiseprincess]

save a book, spread open a bookworm

[emberwexley]

~Fin~

"Sometimes I do treat you like a kid," there was no lie in that, and he'll own it, only because she was acting like a kid sometimes, but he listened to her, like the adult she was. "I don't know what's it like having or growing up with siblings but.. I'm sorry you felt that way. He.. he wasn't too bad of a person," Ash tried to find some silver lining, he couldn't replace her family, "he did save my life so." Ash didn't appreciate it in the moment waking up hearing some famous doctor saved him and no one else made it, but he's standing here today partially because of him.

He flashed her a sad smile, quietly listening to her go off, suddenly feeling sad that of all the people he confided in over the past few years who knew Ember Wexley would've been one of those that actually shared his sentiment and experience rather than just give him sympathetic looks and tell him feels bad. He brows still raised at the dramatics of what happened, a crazy story that he'd never fathom or understand. Ashton wasn't part of some elite class with something for her to gain, so why him? "Thank you.. it's good to know at least someone believes me." That morning being ambushed by Jeremiah for the truth, that look on his face, Ash wasn't even sure he'd believe it. Perhaps because it'd be easier to believe otherwise, easier to just hate him for it than crack his head over what happened. "...Saudi royalty though??" He still had a hard time wrapping his head around it.

[kawareo]

Sometimes, sometimes, Ketheric reflects on what he's lost, and misses Aylin.

[noxcheshire]

Back again with Danny being adopted by other batfam members.

But this time I thought of the absolute comedy of Damian, tiny squirt and five apples tall, deciding that he is now a father to a grown ass teenage Danny.

It was an accident and had never been his intention to adopt another being.

But it had been placed into Damian’s head that in order to be a potential Batman he had to have his own Robin. And the only way to have his own Robin was to have a child, similar to the way that Father would pick up the various children and teenagers amongst them.

Damain had a very specific list of requirements for his potential child-Robin. Danny did not meet any of those requirements, and yet here Damian was having forged papers for the now Daniel Al Ghul-Wayne, and beginning the treacherous affair of introducing his son to the family.

Danny twisted his new shirt sleeve with a frown. It was a nice green silk that complimented the little green that resided in his son’s eyes. Damian wished to bring out the many carefully crafted features of Danny that could match to Damian. Having his eyes pop, wild hair brushed and losing the battle to nervous hands, would have to do.

At least until Damian taught Danny his mother tongue and began the care of his culture and soon to be heritage.

[adaki]

GIRLS NITE OUT >_< ((clockwork could not make it)) (wip)

[emacrow]

The Justice League hasn't heard from John in four months. It was Zatanna who got concerned first when his phone was disconnected.

Batman found out that he died saving an important little girl named ellie from a group of drug trafficker using her as a battery. How paled zatanna was said about the girl and John's deceased body disappeared in a green portal afterward, telling him what level of apocalypse could have accurate if she had died.

Zatanna Investigating the house of mysteries was the next plan of action, considering only Zatanna and Deadman knew that house was claimed by John with an amount of cursed items, books, and every other apocalypse related items.

Zatanna was only going to place seals upon and inside the house, so nobody would attempt to enter ever, except the house wouldn't let her open the front door.

Her blood felt ice cold as she kept trying to pull the door open, but no budge.

That was where she brought the Justice league in, thinking only someone sinister and patience enough placed a claim on the house after John died because if they did.

This was a code blood moon to them. This could be the universe ending on the other side if whoever had control in the house has every cursed item, weapons, and apocalypse making ritual books imaginable that John had collected over the years.

Before J'onn could slip intangible through the house, the door opened to reveal.... Ellie?

The girl who disappeared, wearing a red beanie and a bright smile.

"Oh good, John said you all would probably come here like headless chickens. Come in!" Ellie said, leaving the door open as she floated back inside.

The Justice League and zatanna look dumbfounded before J'onn, the brave soul went in first, saying that he felt no threat.

The house of mysteries seems to have a new type of decoration done, though still very creepy. Safety baby locks, anti plug in, and a bunch of ghost related toddler toys lay around.

A very massive in height man wearing a gravity defying cloak full of stars, hair whiter then snow with constellations braids with the stars themselves sat in the couch that was obviously too much for his massive form.

A squealing little toddler wearing a soft orange jumper with purple hair giggling loudly every time he smack his tiny hands hard onto a board with a bunch of green blob in 9 holes popping out randomly like some ghost theme whack a mole.

Zatanna glanced, looking down at the little boy and then back at the familiar massive tower entity smiling softly, his stardust freckles luminous glowing green with the frozen frost crown with nebula emblems inside floating innocently on his head as her eyes widen a bit.

"Zatanna, who is this guy?" Superman said, concerned in the back. The Justice League didn't know where to go defensive mode or stand down as there was a child present.

She bowed on her knees immediately on the ground, her eyes teary up with a sense of relief.

"I greet thy infinite Realm, Danny Phan-"

"Zatanna, I told you four times in a role. It's not worth repeating my whole titles. You can call me Danny, and no, i didn't win John's soul... I merely adopted him." Danny waves his hands lightly, miniature dwarf star float around lightly before reabsorbed back in his palm.

"It took me 5 years of planning with clockwork and ellie after John helped my realms from the GIW and their plan to make my people into non-living, and living batteries, even though the Justice League had help along with disbanding them. He grew onto me and my family, and seeing what would've become his cheese grated soul after he died was a big no-no in my book." Danny said softly, Ellie popping behind from his mass of white hair.

"I helped, even though now I'm a bit younger than I am now after that whole pretend to get captured by amateur traffickers, but I'd owed constantine for that prank idea for Dan."

The Justice League awkwardly sat on the opposite couch that suddenly appeared, zatanna sitting on the floor a few feet away from John, still playing on a ghost themed whack a mole board.

"Why is John acting like this?" Zatanna asked softly, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her moisten eyes.

"Well, with the combination added years of his much overdue life, by cheating, swindling and dealing with the Supernatural, Gods, faes, and demons alongside the amount of pushed down trauma and PTSD John accumulated in his barely to be call a soul piece after dying in a perfect way for ectoplasm to fixed all of that to made him into a halfa." Danny continues to explain softly.

"His halfa core couldn't handle the weight of it all his soul pieces put together again, especially with his main soul piece being the size of broken miniature ball even after the others entities figured out I claimed and relinquished their contracts because they know I outrank them all, but John's core couldn't handle being put together all at once like that, especially how long he was with barely much of his soul left in the end once he died."

"In a simple way, all His memories, skills and everything in each soul pieces that was taken in between like a giant block of cheese being forced into a tiny mash sieve that was his current mind and body state right now, what Frostbite explain to me." Danny explained simpler with conjuring a solid glob of ectoplasm in his left hand, being pushed in a mold of mini sieve, barely any being pushed out except a couple of glowing liquid dripping.

"John is still the same John, only at where he was his safest mind state before all those deals, trauma, and everything that resulted into what he was, then that slowly returns with time. Only he is free now." Danny finished softly smiling, watching John ripe out a oooing blob ghost from the board with a gleeful squeal, smacking it on the board with delight, his tiny legs kicking in excitement.

Part 1 here <- part 3 -> here

[sakasakiii]

new year new m... aedhros 🥳 yahoo!! i think i hv to return to my roots and devote entire sketch pages to him again bc i was checking my archive and realised the last time i drew him properly was exactly one year ago holy moly..... anyways the sketches are divided into valinor -> angband/recovery -> himring and amon ereb eras so i could experiment w/ how i think he may differ in each :D

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Steve is Morticia and Eddie is Gomez, do not fight me on this.

Eddie quite literally falls first and falls harder, immediately becoming obsessed with Steve. He brings him gifts, greets him with an exuberant amount of kisses each time he sees him, looks at him with so much adoration in his eyes that everyone feels like they are interrupting a private moment.

Steve warmed up to Eddie after a few days. It took him a bit but then he became extremely devoted to Eddie. He calls him the strangest pet names and accepts the quirkier side of himself once he lets himself fall into love with Eddie. He begins to wear flowy clothing and when he sees Eddie approach, he presents his neck or arm as an invitation for Eddie to place his lips on his skin.

They sit on each other’s laps interchangeably, share food from one another’s plates, and practically agree on everything. They may fight, but the aftermath only lasts for minutes at best before they are rushing back to one another, missing the presence of their other halves.

They share blood and clothing and help the other get dressed. The little things that other people, different people, wouldn’t think to do. Steve and Eddie need to be close to each other in every way possible.

Steve even wears an intricate golden locket around his neck everyday that has a lock of Eddie’s hair in it, while Eddie has Steve’s name tattooed across his chest.

When they die on the same day, five minutes apart, they are buried together in a joint coffin, holding hands, in a desolate cemetery in the middle of nowhere. Maybe one day, someone might stumble across their grave and be able to witness the greatness of their love, even after death.

[drgnflyteabox]

a little continuation of this. john price x cashier fem!reader. verbal abuse, anxiety, yelling, hurt/comfort, price comes to your retail rescue<3<3 1.4k words

The only good part of a 5am wakeup is watching the sunrise slowly climb the sky.

There’s a quiet sort of tiredness that lets you appreciate it more — and though the lot associates have made a joke about the morning crew and their sunrise photos, there’s an element of truth there that’s both funny and a little beautiful.

It’s a drag to wait outside the doors for a manager to open them, trying not to make eye contact with the early-bird oldies and the impatient contractors who think they should just be allowed in before everyone else based on the amount of money they spend.

When the doors open and the 6am hardware warriors stroll in, ready and chipper, you’re half asleep leaning against your counter.

Another good thing about the early shift is the lack of uptight managers. None of them want to wake up before ten, so you’re safe to lean and lounge while waiting for customers.

A call comes through your earpiece after a few customers, nearing the cusp of 8am.

”Hey, we’ve got the guy coming your way,” your head cash – Lisa – says, voice crackling in the mic. The guy is a rude jerkoff, some contractor who thinks abusing staff is the way to get good service and better prices.

What’s worse is that your managers allow it. In fact, you get warnings like this all the time. The guy is here, the guy has a big order, make sure to cash him out fast or he’ll start shouting. Be pleasant. Smile.

The guy is walking down the store lumber aisle with a pinched expression on his face and two other employees dragging his stacked carts behind him.

You try to ignore his caustic vibes, thinking instead of the pink, purplish sunrise you’d seen earlier. Clouds like magic, cotton candy, floating above you 

You ignore the incessant tapping of his feet, the annoyed groan he makes when you lift a package of insulation up and find flat saw blades.

Sure, you can’t accuse him of stealing. But you can make a cheery, passive aggressive comment–

“Oops, I guess you forgot these!” you chirp, scanning them a little slower than necessary. It’s not mature, but it does make you feel a little better. Nice try, bozo.

Playing the idiot cashier helps with these types. Why are you mad, sir? I’m just a cashier? And though you could answer more questions than you do, you don’t. Playing the ditz makes life easy.

Lisa’s definitely judged you for it, but hey. She’s not stuck at the register like you are.

Sometimes, it works. You get a scowl, but they’ll go quiet. Sometimes.

Today, it backfires.

“Excuse me?” 

Oh here we go, you think. It’s way too early for this.

“What was that, sir?” you play dumb, voice squeaking.

“Are you accusing me of stealing?” his volume raises. You see redness crawling up his neck. Fuck.

“No, no, I only meant–” you try to backtrack. Fuck, fuck. This is the result of your hubris. Your reasoning flies out through the massive lumber area doors as his rage climbs.

“No? No? Because I think you just accused me of stealing. Do you understand how much I spend here, you moron?”

“I do, I didn’t mean to imply–”

“Get me a fucking manager, now,” he snaps. God, you have no clue if he acts like this to get his way, to get discounts, or if he’s really this angry half the time he comes in.

Regardless, the effect is real. You’ve never been good with anger, and you’re shaking a little as you press the call button on your pager.

“C-Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?” you broadcast to the store.

All you can think of is looking away from his angry gaze while you wait. Oh, a bubble bath – you have an aloe and green tea bubble bath packet at home waiting for you.

Hot water. Bubble bath. Manager to fix this mess. Maybe a hot chocolate after work?

A couple minutes pass. Longest minutes of your life.

No answer. The guy taps his foot, sighing loudly, angrily. You try again.

“Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?”

Oh fuck, is that someone else in line? You turn away bodily, speaking again into your mic. Trying to look like you’re doing something about the wait.

Another couple minutes. Despair washes over you like a cold blanket of snow.

“Need a manager at lumber cash,” you try.

Typical, really. Lisa is likely on break, and you have no idea who’s managing the store at the moment.

You imagine it’s likely Cody, who’s good with contractors like this because he's personable but he’s also lazy it almost cancels out. Also, he takes a smoke break every 5 minutes.

And never takes his pager.

“What the fuck is taking so long?” you hear behind you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, turning. “My manager is busy at the moment but–”

“Busy?” his voice is like a gunshot in the airy space, an absurd volume for the time.

“Yes–”

“Do you know–”

A third voice cuts in.

“Think you better learn a little patience, mate,” British?

Oh, shit. It’s that guy from before. He’s got one hip a little cocked, a frown on his face like he’s smelled something bad. His boonie hat is titled down, nearly covering his eyes. You can see them because you’re shorter than he is.

“Excuse me? And who are you? Mind your business,” the guy says.

“I think you’d better let the nice girl check me out while you wait,” he motions for you towards the parallel cash desk, and you’re grateful to just follow.

You scurry away from the guy faster than is appropriate, calling out again as you cross the open space towards the other cash desk for a manager.

You can only hope they arrive while you’re helping this one. John Price, you think his name was. He's a memorable man. Him and his moustache and his expensive company.

John Price has left the guy flabbergasted. He also has twice as many carts as him, and when your eyes widen to see them he just says take your time in a smooth, deep voice.

Oh man.

You do take your time, already calmer for John’s presence. Strange maybe to feel safe in the company of a stranger, a contractor no less, but it’s a nice change of pace.

Beep, beep. You scan methodically. John has no hidden items, and he doesn’t pressure you. He leans up against his lumber order and watches you check underneath things, under the cart, doing everything you’re trained to do.

“Start early?” he asks.

“Hm?” you lift your head. “Oh, yes. 6am.”

He whistles.

“Hard worker, I see,” he helps you lift a heavy bag of concrete.

“Thank you,” Marx look away, you think. Your face is only a little hot.

Cody strolls in the lumber doors missing his apron and – you guessed it – his pager. You fix him with a look as he smiles in greeting.

“Need a manager when you’re free,” you rush. Cody is nice, but you’re kinda miffed now.

“Oh, sure,” he says, walking by you toward the breakroom.

John Price raises a brow.

“Not everyone’s up to the task, eh?”

You feel hot again.

“It’s just early.”

John smiles. He looks remarkably silly doing it, you think. His facial hair makes him look approachable, cuddly. Like a teddy bear.

John’s order totals double the guy, which isn’t really a victory for you but it feels like one. Ha! See, you aren’t the richest guy here. You feel vindicated. Cody looks miserable cashing him out, which makes you just a little guilty.

“Will that be cash or card?” you ask, finger hovering on the POS.

He pays with card. You certainly do not notice how he cradles the machine. You aren’t that down bad.

Only you are, and his fingers are huge. His knuckles are hairy.

When you go to hand him the receipts, printed twice for record keeping, he manages to slip a 50 into your hand before you notice.

“Oh, no! I’m not allowed to–”

He folds those big bear paws over your hand, enclosing the cash in it with a sh sh sh as you protest.

“For the trouble,” he winks.

“You didn’t give me any trouble,” you try. The warmth of his palm, the roughness of his calluses. You’re a goner.

He chuckles, and you wonder how he can be both so intense and so disarming.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he squeezes your hand, pushing it gently back towards you until you can put it in your apron pocket.

“Thank you,” you squeeze out.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he says.

“I’ll try,” you thank God or the universe or whoever that Cody and the guy finished a while ago.

“Attagirl.”

Yeah, you’re a goner.