#I know we all talk about how bad the customers are in food retail but sometimes the customers are good actually

[milkman-zahhak]

Cal and Leo ~ Christmas special + animated gif

+ A little masterpost here for the stories I've written for them so far if you want to read more about these two and their lore:

- Part 1 - Part 2 (prequel to part 1) (think of it like a flashback scene, seen as Leo and Cal drift asleep in part 1) - Part 3 (sequel to part 1) . . . - Halloween Special PART 1 - Halloween Special PART 2 - Christmas Special <-(you are here)

Sorry for the wait, I know it's way past christmas at this point, but it's done nonetheless. I've been browsing the blogs of some of my mutuals and tried to add in some stuff I saw you guys were into as well,, a little bit here and there... It's quick, but here's the drawing GIF to go along with it, as promised. I hope tumblr doesnt mess up the quality- not that there's much there in the first place:

^^^ It's a belly capacity comparison.

Leo you've been stuffing for hours, show me the product! OUH, ope, no,, it's nice... 😬 oooh you've never looked fuller... oooh.. where were you, where were you when it was time for belly stuffing...ouu... was that like 2 plates? hey- Cal is just a sweat and a tryhard anyway, smh. 🙄 he doesn't know what he's talking about!! /ref

~

WARNING: CONTAINS BELLY FETISH STUFF, READ TAGS FOR THE WHOLE RUNDOWN! (+SAY GEXUAL PHYSICAL INTIMACY)

Anyways, here's the story, sorry its super late:

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

It was a cold northern December evening. The door opened, and Leo kicked his boots together in the doorway before taking them off and shedding multiple layers of winter-wear.

Cal watched from the couch, giving his boyfriend a moment to settle back in, knowing how much Leo hated working and needed to defrost after being out in the cold. He looked comically lanky when he took off the thick coat and snowpants, as if he were a cartoon skeleton slipping out of its skin. You’d think someone who hates being active would be a bit bigger, but no.

Cal is sure Leo's diet of absolute fuckall was the only reason he was still built like a stickbug. Not the time to share those thoughts aloud, though, so he kept his lips zipped, waiting for Leo to start the conversation instead.

Leo slumped onto the couch, "Ugh, man... today was rough." Cal shuffled closer to the blonde man, "aww, whaaat? You got that mall santa job, that sounds pretty easy. better than your usual retail stuff, right?"

Leo let out a heavy sigh. "I know, I know. But this year...it's just different. Being Santa at the mall...it's draining doing that all day." he rants, "kids piss me off, and even when the kids are polite and well-behaved, there's always some terrible parents that manage to make up for it."

Cal felt bad for Leo, but he also felt nosey. "Oooh, gotcha.. That always sucks... ... so... Anything in particular happen today?" He was bored, and ready to back his boyfriend up morally on any situation he was in, and shit-talk whatever coworker or customer Leo wanted to rant about today.

Leo paused to think, "Uhm. A few- not really. Just... I dunno, I just hate this time of year!" Cal's eyebrows raised. "Wait, what do you mean? How does one hate such a festive time of the year?"

Leo hesitated, then started to explain. "I mean...I used to not hate it, I think. But like, growing up Catholic, it was always so much pressure..." Leo hesitated, he hated talking about himself, he didn't want to bum Cal out with some pity-party about his past. "It was always such a big deal but not in a fun way, like everyone in my life would make extra sure to mention christ and his birthday and I was supposed to have fun- but not too much fun- lest I forget about it being Jesus's birthday."

Leo began to ramble, "It's like, nobody can open gifts or eat food or do anything without dickriding the lord. "oh, Leonard, sweetie, we just spent all Sunday morning talking about eternal damnation, why do you look so lethargic, God loves you and we love you- conditionally of course. Come help me make cookies for the guests and smile dammit..."" He trailed off, picking at the hem of his shirt. "That's... a stupid example, sorry, it was just what came to mind..." Leo cursed himself internally. If he was going to accidentally spill about some random-ass childhood Christmas memory, it could have at least been something worth complaining about.

There was so much more to it than being inconvenienced when he was like 8. It was a lifetime of little things building up year after year, day by day, and he didn't know how to paint an accurate picture without telling his entire life story.

It wasn't something he knew how to explain to someone, which is why he prefers not to bring it up at all.

Unfortunately, Cal is a very open person when it comes to thoughts and feelings, and sometimes ropes Leo into conversations where he ends up doing the same.

Cal was getting better at keeping some thoughts to himself though!

Mostly just the ones he thought were funny. See, Cal has a blunt sense of humor that Leo doesn't always pick up on, especially when his witty comments are directed towards Leo. It was a work in progress, baby steps, etc.

Cal nodded slowly, self-assumed understanding dawning on his face. He leaned over to place a gentle smooch on Leo's cheek. "Well, maybe we can change things up this year. Make it more about us and less about...you know. The religious stuff."

Leo's eyes widened slightly at Cal's suggestion, the thought of Christmas without the constant reminder of religion was almost foreign to him. "I don't know if that's possible," he murmured, "It's just... ingrained, it’s part of everything." Cal nodded sympathetically, "Yeah, I get it. My family wasn't super religious, but I remember the pressure to be perfect during Christmas. Like, if I messed up even a little, I thought Santa wouldn't bring me presents."

Leo chuckled. "Haha, same... but for me presents were more of an afterthought, because I was kinda busy thinking about going to hell and failing as a person whenever I messed up.."

Cal scoffed "Man, I don't think about that stuff. I mean, I knew about it, but I figured if I went to hell, I would suck up to Satan or whoever's in charge and try to get a cushy role as one of his higher-up subordinates or something. Y'know? So I'd be, like, the one who escorts the damned, or does the devil's chores or something instead of being tortured for eternity!"

Leo couldn't help but laugh at Cal's optimism, "That's... That sounds like something you would think, yes." he said with a small smile. Cal continued, "Yup, and if you ended up there too, I'd use my position and social power to make you exempt from whatever I could. Nothing is ever gonna hurt you, cutie."

"Thanks, but I'm not actually worried about Heaven or Hell or anything anymore, I don't really believe in that stuff like I used to. It's more about the memories, or maybe the traditions- but not literally traditions, more like... habits? Whatever, I still don't know how to explain it so let's just move on..." Leo sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

Cal listened intently, trying to grasp the complex web of emotions that Leo was trying to unravel. He could see the exhaustion etched on Leo's face and even though he's pretty sure he gets it, Leo always insists that there's so much more, but he can't say it right.

Cal wrapped an arm around Leo's shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze. "It's okay, Leo. We can make our own traditions this year. Ones that don't involve religion, or anything that makes you feel all guilty. Just us, doing stuff we enjoy together."

Leo leaned into Cal's embrace, feeling a sense of relief wash over him, mostly because the conversation seemed to be finally changing topics. "That sounds nice," he admitted softly, "Really nice." Cal smiled and planted another kiss on Leo's cheek. "Good."

Cal's mind started racing with ideas, trying to fill the silence. "So, speaking of doing stuff we enjoy..." he began, "I was thinking, maybe we could decorate our place for tomorrow? Get a tree, hang lights, the works?"

Leo looked up at Cal with a raised eyebrow, "You wanna decorate?" Cal nodded eagerly, "Yeah! It'll be fun, right? We can make some hot chocolate, put on some Christmas music, and just...enjoy ourselves." Leo couldn't help but smile at Cal's childlike excitement. "Yeah, okay. Sounds good."

The next evening, Cal came home with several large bags filled with Christmas decorations. Leo sat at the table, sipping on the hot cocoa Cal had made and watching as Cal unpacked everything.

There were twinkling lights, garlands, ornaments of every color and shape, and even a beautiful star for the top of the tree. Leo couldn't help but feel a little excited himself as he looked at it all.

Cal turned to Leo, "Okay, so first things first- the tree!" He pulled out a small, artificial tree and started setting it up in the living room. Leo stood up to join him, helping Cal unravel the branches and straighten them out. Once they finished setting up the tree, Cal handed Leo a box full of ornaments. "Here, you put your nerd ones where you want and I'll do the other ones." he said with a smile.

Leo opened the box and looked inside. There were normal ornaments, but there were also ornaments of dragons, superheroes, and even some of his favorite fictional characters. He picked one up and smiled at Cal. "Dude, these are great! I didn’t know they made ornaments like this!" Cal's grin grew wider, "Yeah? I figured you'd like 'em."

They worked together in companionable silence, hanging ornaments and wrapping garland around the tree. Leo couldn't remember the last time he felt this...normal. Cal's Christmas plans were simple, but they were exactly what Leo needed to start letting go of some of the religious trauma that haunted him every holiday season. And for that, he was grateful.

As they finished decorating the tree, Cal stepped back to admire their work. "Alright, Leonard, whaddya think?"

~~~

Two days before Christmas, Cal and Leo returned home from their shopping trip, arms laden with bags of groceries. Leo struggled to balance a large turkey in one arm while juggling two bags in the other, filled with potatoes and some canned goods.

Cal followed closely behind, carrying bags filled with vegetables, cranberries, and various spices. They were determined to cook a traditional Christmas Eve feast together.

As soon as they entered the kitchen, Leo took charge. He set the turkey down on the counter with a loud thump, and started taking out the ingredients they would need. Cal watched in awe as Leo moved around the kitchen with such ease and grace.

Leo enjoyed cooking and preparing food. He always has. When he was younger, it would give him alone time away from his family while they did other Christmas preparations, and the focus and attention that's needed to properly prepare food takes his mind off of his own spiraling thoughts and existential worries for a while.

Cal was more into what happens after the food is made, especially fancy food. Cal grew up in poverty, having to fight for scraps among his siblings. It sounds dramatic, but that's just life for the lower class. He rarely ate anything of quality nor quantity. Luckily, Cal has been able to make up for those lost meals as an adult, and then some. That being said, most of what he would eat was what he was used to- quick processed pitiful excuses for meals- if he somehow had the money. He was never one to spend time cooking or baking.

Cal could tell that Leo was trying to hide his frustration at having to explain every step to him while he helped with his parts of cooking and baking the food, but he appreciated Leo's patient instruction.

They spent hours chopping, mixing, and baking ingredients, laughing at each other's clumsiness (mostly Cal’s) and making small talk about their days. Cal couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed cooking so much. It was kinda fun when it was with Leo!

After some trial and error, they finally managed to put together a delicious spread of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, homemade rolls and a pumpkin pie for dessert. Store-bought cider was even available as a refreshment if water got too boring.

Leo's baking skills truly shone through with the pumpkin pie, Cal thinks. The sweet aroma filled the apartment, making it feel warm and welcoming despite the chilly winter air outside.

Cal couldn't resist stealing a taste of the leftover filling when Leo wasn't looking, earning him a playful swat on the hand and a stern "You'll spoil your dinner!" from Leo. Cal giggled, "You'd like that, though, wouldn't you."

Leo shook his head playfully.

Yeah, he probably would like that.

~

There was a festive atmosphere in the small apartment as they set the dining table. Leo had insisted on using their best plates and silverware, despite Cal's protests that it wasn't necessary.

Leo promised he would do the dishes though if they did, so Cal caved.

The warm light from the Christmas tree in the living room twinkled off the cutlery, the table was filled with the delicious food they had prepared together, and the air was thick with anticipation to enjoy all of it.

As they sat down to eat, Cal took a deep breath, savoring the delicious smells surrounding them. "Leo, this looks amazing," he said sincerely, "Thank you for doing this with me." Leo smiled softly, "Thank you for wanting to. I forgot how nice some traditions can actually be, I think." They clinked glasses of sparkling cider and dug in, enjoying the fruits of their labor.

Cal ate his fill, making sure to sample everything at least once before pigging out on his favorites.

Throughout the meal, Cal also made sure to compliment Leo on his cooking skills, trying to boost his confidence. He watched Leo's cheeks turn pink with embarrassment and pleasure, and it made him happy to see Leo happy. Cal couldn't remember the last time he felt this content. The food was delicious, and the company was even better. They talked about everything and anything, laughing and joking as usual, but it felt extra special and festive tonight.

When they finished eating, Cal couldn't help but notice that Leo had hardly touched his food. Concerned, he asked, "Is everything okay?"

Leo nodded, "Yeah, I guess I'm just not that hungry." Cal's heart ached for him, he couldn't help but notice Leo's lack of appetite.

Leo normally didn’t eat much, but this was odd, even for him.

He figured Leo's past was still haunting him, even during such a joyous occasion. Maybe he’s not used to having so much food all to himself?

Cal used to feel that way, and then one thing led to another once he started living alone, and it was like a dam had burst. Not being hungry felt so fucking amazing, and feeling full was so new and foreign to him, and boy did he really enjoy it.

He had an online channel where he would post videos of him eating as much as physically possible for a while, and down the line that ended up opening the door for him and Leo to become more than just friends in a financially-necessary living agreement… Thinking back to the movie night incident where they had revealed their kinks to each other, Leo said he didn’t think he was into stuffing himself, but he also said he’d never really tried. And hey, Cal didn’t know he was into it before he tried….

With a gentle smile, Cal leaned back, sighing. He'd eaten enough to be... not hungry, that's for sure. Definitely nowhere near full, especially not by his standards, but he was taking it easy for tonight. Besides, he has to save some food, that way he has leftovers to eat tomorrow on christmas eve.

Cal burps, as politely as he can, and leans forward, "*urp*.. You know, Leo, I've always wondered 'bout something." Leo looked up at him curiously, "Yeah?"

Cal smirked, "How much can you actually fit in that cute little belly of yours?"

It was a topic they had touched upon before in a joking manner, but this time, there was a hint of seriousness in Cal's tone. Leo's eyes widened in surprise before he let out a soft chuckle. "Not much, not as much as you, that's for sure, haha." he admitted, "I guess.. I dunno, unlike you I've never really tried to test my limits."

Cal nodded thoughtfully. "Well.. maybe it's time you did?" he suggested softly, sweetly.

Leo froze for a moment, the suggestion catching him by surprise. "What uh.. what do you mean?" he asked hesitantly.

Cal replied, his voice dropping to a more serious, but still caring tone, "You seem kinda like... I can tell you're stressing in your head about stuff, and you pretty much did all the cooking yourself too!.. And you haven’t really eaten that much, even though you did all that, and.. I was thinking.. maybe we could like, switch things up? Let me take care of you tonight, Leo. Let me help you forget about everything else and just...enjoy, y'know..?"

Leo blushed slightly at Cal's words, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He knew that Cal was right, that he needed to let go and relax, but like this?

Cal had done so much kinky stuff for Leo, it’s about time he did something for Cal in return anyway.

…After a moment of contemplation, Leo nodded slowly. "Alright, Cal.. I'll give it a try." Leo took a deep breath and started loading his plate with more food than he usually would.

Cal watched Leo's determined expression with a soft smile, proud of him for taking the first step. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he also knew how much Leo needed a change of pace. They continued to talk about some current events and laugh, trying to keep things interesting.

Leo began to eat. It was difficult to just keep eating, because he felt full somewhat quickly after the first plate, but he pushed through, wanting to prove to Cal - and maybe himself - that he could do it.

Cal offered him encouragement and teased him gently, making him giggle between bites.

Leo could get used to this. He prefers being on the other end of things, but this was hot too so far. Who doesn’t like feeling nice and warm and full?

As the meal went on, Leo found himself struggling to keep up. He was used to watching Cal’s stuffings, but actually doing it himself was a different experience entirely.

Cal noticed Leo's discomfort, but also saw the determination in his eyes. He decided to take it slow and make sure Leo was okay every step of the way. "Hey, Leo.. take your time, don't push yourself too hard"

Leo nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Yeah, hah… I’ve been wolfing this down pretty fast huh.”

Cal snickered, “Remember, it's not a race, bud!”

As Leo continued eating, his stomach started to protest. Intermittent bubbly sounds came from within his increasingly overfull tummy.

ggrrllp.. glp… grrluuRRp…. rrrlghh.. “Hnng…”

He wasn't used to consuming so much food at once, and it was beginning to show.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face wrinkling as cramps started to form in his stomach. Despite the discomfort, Leo pushed forward, wanting to prove to Cal - and definitely himself - that he could do this.

He hunched over before quickly straightening back up, as if hunching over only made the feeling worse, and he let out a soft whimper, which caught Cal's attention immediately.

Cal's expression turned concerned when his boyfriend’s face seemed to indicate that it wasn’t a good whimper, "Leo, are you okay?" he asked. Leo nodded, trying to downplay the pain. "I'm fine, I just.. It hurts, up here," he admitted sheepishly, motioning towards the area above his belly button.

Leo was thin, and his belly wasn't used to being so stretched. His shirt was still fitting almost just as it was before, but his stomach was hard and tight to the touch, and a small but noticeable lump was visible beneath his shirt.

Leo's voice was filled with a mixture of pain and desperation as he described his feelings to Cal. His stomach felt heavy and clogged, like a rock weighing him down. Leo had now resorted to nibbling slowly at a single forkful of the pie.

He couldn't help but let out small moans of discomfort as he tried to adjust his position. No matter how he sat, he still felt a tight, stinging, bloated feeling in his overstuffed belly.

The cramps were becoming more frequent and intense, but strangely enough, Leo still found himself getting… somewhat turned on by the situation, he guesses...

The sensation of fullness was foreign and uncomfortable, but the idea of Cal being so proud of him was making him feel things he couldn't quite put into words- figuratively and literally.

Finally unable to bear it any longer, Leo pushed his plate away and both hands flew to his middle, grasping and clutching right below his chest, feeling the strange new difference in the area where his stomach began to protrude outwards. "Cal.. ugh.. u-unf...." he groaned, his eyes pleading for relief. "It hurts.. my belly, I can't- I dunno how you do it..."

Cal felt a surge of desire for a moment, but he could see the genuine pain in Leo's eyes, and knowing that ruined any enjoyment he would have had otherwise listening to Leo’s whines.

He got up from his own seat and carefully placed his hand on Leo's hard, distended belly, rubbing circles gently. Leo's breath caught in his throat at the sensation. He leaned back into Cal's touch, letting out a soft whine. "I've never eaten so much at once.. oh my god.. hic..." he mumbled, his eyes closing halfway.

Cal chuckled softly at Leo's futile attempt at a stuffing, unable to help himself.

He knew how much of a challenge this was for him, though. Seeing Leo so squirmy and his belly so swollen was arousing, but seeing him in pain wasn't something Cal wanted.

He moved closer, taking Leo's hand in his other and interlacing their fingers together. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to Leo's forehead. "It's okay, babe. You don't have to force yourself. We can try again some other day if you want to." he said reassuringly. He knew how hard this was for Leo, and he didn't want to push him too far. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

Leo tried to answer between breathless groans “unngh… no.. n-nhmm.. Maybe? I feel more like my stomach- ngh! I know it's not but.. urgh, feels like.. t-the skin’s gonna rip open.. ‘n pop…” Since Cal was already rubbing Leo’s belly, Leo’s hands were desperately gripping and palming his own chest as he spoke, as if trying to contribute whatever he could on just the off-chance that it might help him feel better.

As Leo squirmed in his seat, Cal's eyes widened slightly when he thought of something that might help.

He could guess from the description as well as the look on Leo's face, the subtle movements and ways he kept shifting in his seat, that maybe he was struggling with gas pain.

He leaned in, kissing Leo's cheek, then moving over a bit and momentarily taking his hands off of Leo’s aching belly. His lips brushing against Leo's ear, "D’you want me to help you out, Leo? I think I have an idea.." he whispered seductively.

Leo's eyes snapped open at that, and he nodded frantically. He trusted Cal, and he knew he wouldn't judge him, hell, he's the one he's doing all this for.

Besides, he needed help. Badly.

Cal smiled and moved behind Leo, reaching around the back of the chair again and placing both of his hands on either side of Leo's belly. He began to massage him gently, deliberately pushing into certain places, trying to coax out any trapped air bubbles.

Leo's tummy wasn't as big as Cal's usually got, since Leo wasn't used to stretching out his stomach. Not to mention it took significantly less food to fill him up to the gills.

But for someone of Leo's capacity and (in)experience, it was clear that he'd genuinely pushed himself, this was no act.

“I’m so.. eugh… it hurts, it h- the cramps..” Leo whined miserably

“Fuck, it’s like.. it’s all stuck.. mmhmmfuck!…. My guts.. I can't move my body or bend anywhere, it hurts, oh my god, ugh.. B-Breathing in hurts..” Leo tried to breathe steadily, struggling to fully inhale, which made him even more panicked.

Cal could feel Leo's stomach expanding and contracting beneath his hands as the meal tried to digest, the trapped air tried to escape. It was moving a little bit, but obviously to Leo’s discomfort.

"Just breathe, Leo.. Let it out slowly, just focus on breathing in and out slowly, small breaths, okay?" Cal coaxed, his voice low and soothing. Leo nodded, taking small, but focused breaths as Cal continued to massage him, each exhale coming out as more of a strained moan.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Leo let out a short silent puff of a burp, one that seemed to surprise him coming up, as he flinched during its release.

*uuhh-hhhr* …

Cal wanted to make fun of Leo for his body's weird way of burping, it was hilarious to him, but.. He figured he could save it for later, instead, just being happy that Leo is burping at all for now.

"There ya go, feel any better?" he cooed affectionately as stood behind Leo's chair and continued rubbing his belly for him. Leo grunted halfheartedly. “Maybe?...”

Leo's face scrunched up in concentration as he attempted to expel more gas, his stomach still rumbling and gurgling uncomfortably. This went on for a good 8 to 10 minutes with no significant resolution.

But eventually his stomach bubbled so loudly that both of them could hear it, and both of them froze up. Leo sighed with relief as he felt everything suddenly shift downwards.

He could literally hear the gas bubbles and mush of what he'd eaten traveling deeper into his guts- It was kind of gross, but his stomach felt less tight. “Ohhh, oh my god, did you hear that? it-” he exclaimed, but before he could finish, Leo felt an intense pressure at his body’s backdoor.

He didn’t even realize it was happening at first, but a long, hot, silent fart hissed as it escaped through his cheeks. It was like someone opened the lip of a full balloon and let all the air pour out.

*phhfrrrrrrrshrhhpt…. fshhhh~hhhhhssssss…*

It smelled like actual shit, and even Leo himself quickly covered his nose with his sleeve.

Cal began to laugh, but quickly covered his mouth and nose with both his hands and coughed, “o- *cough* oh my god, dude..”

Leo was frozen in his seat for a minute, worryingly checking below himself making sure he didn’t let anything else go- he didn’t think he did, but he also didn't think he was going to fart like that either. Thankfully, it actually was just really rank air.

Leo was the first to speak up a few moments after the air cleared, “I feel like, 10 pounds lighter, that was insane..” He slumped back in the chair, now able to do so without searing cramps.

His stomach feels ever so slightly less tight from the outside too, as if it had deflated a little.

"Cal... I don't know how.. you do this so easily," he groaned deliriously, his cheeks flushing further at the thought of what he'd just done.

The fart was a huge relief as most of the air in his intestines seemed to be released, but he was still full of food and whatever was in his upper stomach. "I ate like... almost hic two plates of turkey.. So much mashed potatoes.. oooohhh, the sides too... were all so good, but I can't.." Leo let out another small, soundless burp. "*uhp*.. I feel so full... so stuffed." He squirmed in his seat.

Cal couldn't help but grin at Leo's words, knowing just how little food that really was compared to what he could consume.

But seeing Leo like this, so vulnerable and needy, while it was incredibly hot, now is not the time to be showing off your capacity, he can save that for another time when Leo is the one feeding him.

"It takes practice, babe. You'll get there eventually- if you want to of course." he said encouragingly. Leo responded very quickly, "I don't think I do."

Cal snickered. His fingers continued to massage Leo's tight belly, feeling each individual rumble beneath the surface, and how bloated his lower tummy was getting again as the next round of food patiently waited its turn to move to his intestines.

Leo's discomfort seemed to grow, but Cal knew that with some time, patience, and encouragement, he'd be able to work through it. He hoped Leo knew that too.

"Let's try something else," Cal suggested, after a moment. He leaned down and pressed another kiss to the top of Leo's head. "You did so well, now you just gotta rest. Why don't we take this to the couch? It'll be more comfortable for you to relax there."

Leo hesitated for a second, knowing that standing up would mean jostling his overfull stomach. He looked at Cal, his eyes wide and pleading, unsure if he could manage it. But the thought of relief was too enticing to completely ignore. "Cal... I can barely sit here without feeling like I'm gonna explode, I don't know if I'll make it to the couch in one piece- heh.. One Piece.."

While Leo complained, Cal had taken a hold of Leo from under his armpits, lifting him up out of his chair. "Come on, I've got you," he reassured, helping Leo stand up carefully.

Leo let out a small gasp as his belly shifted heavily, the movement sending new waves of discomfort and slight nausea throughout his body. Cal kept his hand firmly on Leo's lower back, supporting him as he wobbled slightly on unsteady legs. They made their way towards the couch, Cal guiding him with gentle encouragement.

Once again, Cal internally found it very amusing that Leo seemed so off-balance and disoriented.

Cal usually had an actual ball-belly to deal with after a stuffing, physically putting off his center of balance.

But Leo, even at his fullest right now, didn't have more than a small bump. …He didn't doubt that Leo probably felt bigger than he looked, though.

As they finally reached the couch, Cal helped Leo lay down on his side, propping a few pillows behind him to make sure he stayed in a comfortable position. Leo let out a relieved sigh, but the relief was short-lived.

Cal settled next to Leo on the couch, continuing to massage his bloated tummy with slow, soothing circles. He knew just how badly Leo wanted to burp or fart to find some relief, and the anticipation was making the atmosphere in the room thick with tension, mostly for Leo.

While Cal would usually be blasting from both ends, if anything he would be struggling to release air fast enough to keep up with whatever was being produced inside his body, Leo's stomach didn't seem to know what to do in such a situation.

Leo’s guts seemed to take their sweet time moving his meal around his body, making sure whatever came before it was completely done and empty before moving on.

It also seemed to release everything in one single movement if it could, instead of periodically along the way, bit by bit.

So everything would build up, each step in the digestion process trying to single handedly take care of everything Leo had so hastily eaten before letting it move along, so he couldn’t force anything out, or really will anything to move any further along than it was.

Leo's breath hitched every so often as he tried to release some gas, his face contorting in desperation. Leo's face would scrunch up in pure agony as he fought against his body, desperately trying to release some of the pressure building inside him.

After what felt like an eternity, his body finally gave way again.

With an almost audible 'pop', his ass released a long, slow fart that lasted a good four seconds. It was just like the first one, silent in terms of a fart, but they could both hear a sort of ffffshhhhhh.

The relief that washed over Leo was anything but quiet. He stayed tense a few seconds after it was over, but then immediately went limp and moaned, a mix between pleasure and pain. "Oooouuhh fuck, I needed that..."

His belly was still disgustingly full, but for a moment he felt relief as he was able to get rid of some gas.

He looked up at Cal through half-lidded blue eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that he'd managed to let something out.

Cal couldn't help but stare at Leo's belly as it deflated slightly from the release, his own cock twitching in his pants at the sight. He could only imagine how relieving that must feel for Leo. Lots of buildup, huge payoff.

He loved watching him like this- he loved seeing Leo in pleasure. It was like a drug, and Cal was hopelessly addicted. Unfortunately, the smile faded as the relief did, and Leo’s stomach went back to working on whatever was next on the metaphorical conveyor belt of slop to digest.

Leo didn’t look like he was really enjoying the situation as a whole, just the small moments whenever the pressure was reduced.

Cal leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Leo's cheek before moving his hand to rest on Leo's tummy again, this time reaching up under his shirt. He wants to try and make Leo feel good somehow.

Leo's face flushed brighter, but he didn't pull away from Cal's touch. Instead, he leaned into it slightly, enjoying the feeling of Cal's hand on his skin. He let out another silent puff of a burp, followed by a tiny fart. This time audible, but squeaky, small, and useless. "It’s rumbly again…" he admitted quietly.

Leo's body shook as he continued to try and expel gas, his tummy rumbling and protesting against the external coercion of the contents within it.

He groaned as he pushed, trying to force air out any way he could. He knew that he needed to let some of this pressure go, but it seemed like no matter how hard he tried, nothing would come out. He felt Cal's hand move slowly across his stomach, feeling the movement of food sloshing around inside.

Cal's touch sent shivers down his spine. It was becoming more and more apparent to Leo that he should leave the stuffing to Cal, but while he's in this situation anyway, he wants to at least try and make himself burp or something.

He clenched up, preparing to burp again, but it was quickly followed by a gurgling sound from deep in his belly. "Ugh.. It's all moving around.." Leo moaned, "It feels like it's trying to digest.. like it's all mixing.."

Cal's brown eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned down to whisper in Leo's ear. "Yyyep. That's the food moving through you, babe. Your poor little tummy is working hard." He nipped at Leo's earlobe a little as he kissed the side of his neck, enjoying the way he squirmed beneath his touch.

Leo groaned again, this time more from arousal than discomfort. The thought of Cal touching him up, kissing and nuzzling into his face and neck from beside him, rubbing his belly.. he was being so.. so TOUCHED. Which was hot to him no matter what. He felt his cock twitch against his pants.

"Cal..." He breathed out, his eyes pleading.

Cal's fingers danced lightly over Leo's belly button, feeling the way it dipped in and out as Leo tried to burp again. "Okay, hold on- just relax, babe. Let it happen naturally. I cant keep kissing on ya if you keep clenching up and moving around, right?.." He said softly.

Leo let out another sigh, but followed Cal's advice. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to ignore the discomfort in favor of the warmth of Cal's hands.

After a few moments, he felt a bubble forming in his stomach, moving its way upwards.

He opened his mouth and let it escape, releasing a soft burp that sounded like *hup*. It wasn't much, but it helped. There was still a bit more on its way.

Finally, Leo let out a proper burp.

It was loud, and it rumbled deep in his chest, coming out with a satisfying *UUuuorrrrpP*.

His eyes widened as he felt the relief flood through him just from hearing such a sound come out of his own mouth, and his cock hardened even more against his pants.

Burping and listening to how people in his videos would burp was always something that turned him on, and the fact that he had done it after such a struggle only amplified the sensation tenfold.

He groaned softly, his body tensing as he tried to control his arousal.

"Oh my god.." Leo breathed out, eyes wide with excitement, "Holy shit, finally! I’ve never been able t- that's like the first time in forever that I've actually burped like that!.." The release of air felt like heaven, not to mention the fact that he actually managed to somehow burp all loud like a normal person for once.

He couldn't help but arch his back slightly as he let out another smaller burp. "fuck..." He muttered somewhat dissappointingly, looking down at his crotch, where a visible bulge was forming.

Cal grinned, watching Leo's body's reaction with delight, seeing his boyfriend genuinely turned on like this. Jackpot!

Leo's breath hitched as Cal's hand began to roam lower, tracing the outline of Leo's erection through his jeans.

Leo shifted uncomfortably as Cal continued to massage his stomach, feeling another burp build up inside of him.

He hoped it would make a sound like that other one.

Leo didn't like being this full - it was hot seeing other people like this, but there was no pleasure in the discomfort here for him personally. But he couldn't deny that the act of burping - finally being able to release some of that trapped air - was turning him on, so the situation was somewhat salvageable.

Cal noticed the change in Leo's demeanor and took this as an opportunity, reaching down from Leo's belly and rubbing one of his hands against the top of Leo's leg. "Does it feel good when you finally get one out?" He asked, amused.

Leo could only nod. Cal leaned down to nuzzle his neck, kissing lightly at the sensitive skin, making sure Leo could hear each smooch. Leo whined softly as he felt Cal's hot breath against his ear. “I’ve never heard you burp like that before, you almost sounded like me.. almost..”

Cal sat continued to work on Leo's stomach, to manipulate it to get the reactions he wanted, sitting beside him and rubbing, pressing, and pushing air up and out instead of just soothing him or helping it digest.

He could feel the tension building up inside his boyfriend once again, ready for another release. "C'mon babe, let it out for me." He coaxed, pressing his other hand into Leo’s crotch, taking hold of what he could through the denim and giving it a light squeeze.

Leo's entire body jerked forward as another burp erupted from his lips - this one was short, but it made a burp sound, which was enough for Leo right now.

"*URrp* Fuck.. Cal.." He moaned, his hips shifting involuntarily, his hardening cock rubbing against the fabric of his underwear beneath his pants.

Cal's own arousal was growing by the second, listening to Leo's desperate sounds and feeling him writhe beneath his touch.

He slipped both of his hands under Leo's shirt now, running his fingers across his sensitive skin. Leo gasped, arching his back again.

"You like that? I bet'cha feel good getting that out huh.. Let me distract you from your bellyache for a while.." Cal mewled, teasing Leo's nipples a little bit. He could feel exactly where his usually almost concave stomach now bulged out below his ribcage.

Leo nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words. The touch and feel of his heavier partner leaning into him was driving him wild.

Cal chuckled softly at Leo's response, leaning in even closer to press yet another gentle kiss against his cheek. "That's my good boy," he whispered, his hands still massaging Leo's chest rather than his stomach.

He knew how much Leo loved praise, and even though he could tell stuffing himself wasn't exactly his thing, he wanted to make sure Leo knew that Cal still appreciated the effort.

Leo let out a small whine as one of Cal's hands trailed downwards from his chest, his breaths coming out shallow and quick, but not because of gas pains this time.

He could feel his belly rolling and shifting under Cal's palm, and even though it was uncomfortable, he tried to focus on the sensation of being touched like this instead.

Cal repositioned himself, gently rotating and then lowering Leo backwards, hovering atop him, then laying down beside him longways on the couch.

He held the blonde boy close, not wanting either of them to fall off.

As Cal spooned Leo, one hand on one of his nipples and the other rubbing his belly, letting his hand slip generously low, so that Leo's belly wasn't the only thing being rubbed.

Cal hoped Leo was as turned on as he was.

Going by the rigidity he felt when his hand rubbed Leo's crotch, it seemed to be the case.

Leo's stomach gurgled loudly, a slow, low rumble that made him wince..

Cal was quick to begin comforting and distracting him from it. "You're such a trooper," Cal murmured, his voice husky with arousal, "Trying new things for me.. I love you sooooo much... this was good, 'cause now we know that you're gonna stick to feeding... or maybe some kind of bloating- something that makes you burp without upsetting your belly?...." Cal caught himself rambling and cut himself off.

"Uh, forget that right now. I'm just brainstorming." His lips moved to Leo's neck, nibbling and sucking on it gently as his hands continued to roam.

The words sent a shiver down Leo's spine regardless of what was being said, and he turned his head to try and get a better look at Cal.

He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth despite the discomfort. "I-I'll try anything once.." Leo managed to say between gasps, another burp bubbling up deep inside of him.

Cal chuckled again, completely turning Leo around towards him to capture his lips in a kiss. It started slow and gentle, but soon turned heated. Before either of them could pull away, the aforementioned gas came rushing up and out of Leo's mouth. Another burpy-sounding burp, but somewhat muffled...

Because Cal's mouth was on his.

Leo pulled away from the kiss abruptly, cheeks flushing as he realized what had happened. "Oh shit, Cal! I'm s-sorry..." He began to apologize, but Cal only smiled wider and pulled him back in for another kiss, cutting him off.

Leo was visibly embarrassed but.. Cal's enthusiasm made it hard for him to stay that way.

As they continued making out, Leo couldn't help but notice that his belly seemed to be settling a bit. He was certainly still very full, but it didn't hurt as bad, he just felt heavy.

Maybe the burping was helping more than he thought. Or maybe it was just Cal's touch successfully distracting him.

He couldn't decide which felt better right now, and didn’t really care either.

Cal's hands never stopped roaming Leo's body, massaging his stomach gently now and again to coax out any shy bubbles.

Most of the time Cal just let his own belly squish against Leos, it was inevitable in their position anyways. Leo found himself relaxing into it, letting out soft moans, wrapping his legs around Cal’s to squish himself even further into the man’s softer and more pillowy stomach, feeling it against his own sore, rookie tummy.

They rolled around together on the couch, their bodies pressed against each other as they explored each other's mouths with their tongues, and bodies with their hands.

Eventually, Leo felt another burp building up inside him, but he tried to suppress it this time. However, Cal seemed determined to draw it out of him.

He pressed his lips firmly against Leo's, his tongue sweeping into the thinner man's mouth, and Leo couldn't help but relax. The burp slipped out, echoing through both of their mouths.

Cal moaned softly, and Leo could feel the vibration of it against his lips. It was such an odd sensation, but also strangely erotic.

Leo couldn't believe Cal was actually enjoying that.. but alas, he was.

He imagined himself in Cal's position, which was infinitely more arousing. Thinking about being in the opposite role made his cock throb within the confines of his increasingly tight and increasingly moist pants.

Leo's initial arousal wasn't necessarily stemming from the pressure of his overfilled stomach, rather the fact that he was able to actually burp for once. This was a rare occurrence for him, one he didn't know how to manually replicate without forcing himself into such an uncomfortable state.

Leo couldn't believe how turned on he was getting right now, especially considering his discomfort. But the mixture of Cal's praise, touch, and the sensations he was feeling now made it impossible for him to resist.

He's really trying to savor the good parts. Like how each burp brought with it a wave of relief that he could feel AND hear as it left him.

And the fact that Cal seemed to be enjoying it only added fuel to the fire burning inside him.

Leo's hands grasped small fistfuls of Cal's shirt as he felt himself getting closer to the edge, the tension coiling inside him was too much to handle. "fu- oh fuck, I'm close!..."

He breathed heavily, arching against Cal's touch, "uhnn.. Cal, pleasegofaster, hah~harder, f-hurry...." his voice trailed off at the end until he was whispering a garbled variation of "faster" and "gonna cum" with each exhale.

Cal nodded wordlessly, trying to comply with his lover's request. He quickly unbuttoned Leo’s pants and reached into them. His hand pressed harder into the outline of Leo's hard cock, applying just the right amount of pressure, trying to squeeze and grasp it as best he could through his underwear with each tug.

Leo was doing some work of his own, forcefully grinding and thrusting into and against Cal's hand.

The inside of Leo's underwear near the tip of his cock was slick with precum making it all the more satisfying (and all the less difficult) to feel the fabric rub against his dick, the damp heat trapped inside under the layers of his clothes.

The pressure inside Leo grew, building with each thrust. He could feel his climax approaching like a freight train, his entire body tensing as he struggled to contain himself. "Cal... fuck.. fuck.." Leo moaned again, louder this time, his voice desperate and embarrassing, "c-cumming.. ah- I-I'm gonnacum!~"

Leo's entire body went rigid, his back arching against the back cushions of the couch as he cried out, releasing a string of high pitched moans that were cut off almost as soon as they started by his own gasps for air.

He came hard, cum spilling into the confines of his underwear, drenching the fabric with his release.

Cal groaned into Leo's ear as he felt the hot wetness against his hand, his own arousal spiking higher. He didn't stop rubbing though, even after Leo's cock had begun to twitch and soften. He continued stickily until the last few drops were squeezed out of him and he was milked dry.

Leo was left panting, his face flushed and eyes glazed over, his body feeling heavy, but sated.

Cal pulled away from him, an uncharacteristically needy look on his face. Cal then brought his dampened hand to his own crotch, reaching into his pants and undoing them quickly with his other hand. "mmmph, Leo, your face when y- it's- you can't just..."

Cal rolled over and quickly whipped out his own dick, ensuring Leo was out of the ‘splash zone’ while he recovered from his own orgasm.

As Cal hastily brought himself to release, Leo lay panting on the couch, trying to regain control of his breathing.

The last few minutes as well as the hours prior had been intense, and he was still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through him.

At least he didn't feel like his belly was going to explode anymore.

He looked over at Cal, whose body was now facing away from him, hand working feverishly at his cock. Leo couldn't see much from this angle, but he didn't need to.

He could hear Cal's heavy breathing, and the wet sounds of his hand working against his erection- Cal was stroking himself with the same hand he had just used to rub Leo’s cumsoaked boxers. One could only guess, for maximum efficiency.

Leo felt another burp coming on, but this one was different. It wasn't forced, or painful, but rather a result of his relaxed state after cumming.

He let it out with a soft sigh, "hu-urp... uuuhp- ahh..", feeling it roll through his body one last time.

It wasn't as loud as the previous ones, it was more silent and airy like how he normally burped,, but it somehow managed to fill the room with its presence, serving as a reminder of the strange new dynamic they had just shared.

Cal's hand stilled for a brief moment, his head flopping down onto the couch, his grip on his cock tightening before he let out a loud, strained sigh. Leo could see Cal's shoulders tense, and hear the wet sounds grow faster before stopping abruptly, then continuing in slow, jerky pumps.

He also saw ropes of white sputter onto the carpet as Cal lay parallel to him, facing the outward side of the couch, panting heavily. Leo couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride at having brought Cal to climax as well.

"Fuuuuuuuck.. I'll clean that don't worry," Cal started, still catching his breath, "Merry Christmas, though.. damn!" he exclaimed triumphantly, rolling back over to face Leo.

"Happy holidays to you too..." Leo replied weakly, his breath still uneven as he tried to recover from the intense release.

He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. He looked down at his damp clothes and Cal's cum splattered across the carpet and shook his head.

This wasn't exactly how he pictured spending Christmas, this was quite possibly the most Christ-less Christmas he's ever had in his life.

He reflexively began to feel bad, but the feeling never came down as hard as it usually did, maybe it was because he was looking into Cal's beautiful brown eyes, and for once, he welcomed the suffocating closeness of eye contact for a while.

He stared into Cal's eyes for a good 5-mississippis before having to look somewhere else on his face!

He’d never looked that deeply into them before, not in this light at least, because he saw hints of hazel within the smooth brown pools surrounding Cal’s iris.

For as short as those 5 seconds of prolonged eye contact may have seemed, Leo cherished and savored each one.

Leo pushed the sexual guilt down for later, as usual- but it didn't feel as urgent this time.

Like if you were to put off a specific assignment until the last day while you completed other ones, until it just makes more sense to cut your losses, count that zero into your grade, and work on other projects instead of staying up all night and stressing. Using your energy on the stuff you could actually feasibly finish instead.

But like, the good responsible mental version of that.

Having Cal made it easier for Leo to procrastinate on coming back to the guilt until he hardly had the energy to dwell on it, and by that time, he was usually having fun with his partner again anyways, focused on another activity or conversation.

In truth, he was thankful for Cal's understanding and willingness to help him explore this fetish of his, even though Leo didn't like being the one to stuff his own tummy, but hey, now they know, and they had both found a way to make it work in the end.

Leo sat up and leaned against the armrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling in silence for a moment before his stomach bubbled.

Leo's guts were different from Cal's guts in many ways, as evidenced by recent events.

Leo was unable to get a belly as easily, and there was a reason behind that called a superfast metabolism, for better or for worse. Once things were done, they were done. They were done all at once and suddenly, like they were in the earlier stages of digestion.

Stuff didn't stick around inside him to absorb and ferment like Cal, whose body adapted in his early years to savor every miniscule morsel and keep itself full for as long as possible.

Leo climbed over the armrest of the couch and stood up quickly, walking away in a rush. "Huh- hey, where're you going?" Cal asked, confused, pushing himself up to see what all the hubbub was about.

"..oh! heh." he chuckled, watching Leo as he quickly and quietly disappeared into the bathroom.

(((THE END)))

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

Thank you so much for reading, if you did read it. Comments are encouraged and appreciated, let me know what you liked and any ideas or suggestions for future writings! -

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for telling my mom to either go to therapy or shut up + possibly blowing an airhorn or something in response?

(the airhorn thing is like 80% a joke)

We've had a long string of bad events happen in the last few years. And when I say "we" I mean WE. Each of these things have affected both of us. I don't want to go into too much detail for privacy reasons, but it has been 5 solid years (so far) of bad events.

I won't sugarcoat it. Shit's definitely fucked. And I don't blame my mom for being negatively affected by it all. HOWEVER it does not help the situation to constantly complain about it. My mom has been progressively complaining more and more about how miserable she is to the point where I honestly do not remember the last time we had a day without her complaining about being miserable. (Yes, this includes holidays and both of our birthdays, which I've tried to make holidays and her birthday as good as possible for her, yet she complained about everything I DIDN'T do)

That in itself is irritating, but I could let it slide if we were both putting in equal effort. But in the past 4.5 years, I have been the only one working. It's not the best job (retail) but it's better than nothing and I at least make some money. My mom gets disability, which is not much, plus she gambles and sometimes wins, but not much. She pays for food and gas when she can, but 90% it is out of my pocket. She has not been looking for a job. (she herself said she could get a job as long as it's under a certain amount of hours so she doesn't lose benefits or she could work under the table and explicitly said she planned on doing so and then just...didn't) My job has been cutting all of our hours and the job hunt is not going well, so I make about $150 a week.

Now, I try very VERY hard not to complain about any of this. Especially since I was telling my mom about my days at work for a while and while I honestly thought I was just recalling my day, she pointed out to me that I was constantly complaining about everything and didn't have anything positive or neutral to say. I listened to what she said and ever since, I have been very conscious about not complaining about work. Now I only talk about my job if I have a specific question about something that I want to talk to her about or if something unusual happened, but I make sure it is only positive or neutral. (One time, a customer brought in an iguana. I don't work in a pet store. I told my mom about it.)

However, my mom is still complaining regularly about how miserable she is, yet isn't doing anything to help herself. (from what I can tell) She has progressively complained more and more to the point where she hasn't gone a single day in 2 months without saying how miserable she is.

It's irritating and exhausting to be around. I have asked her multiple times to please try not to complain as much and I take every opportunity I can to be away from her (covering shifts at work, going out with my friend, etc) but every time I'm near her, she's either sleeping or awake and complaining. I've just about had it. I don't know how else to convince her to stop complaining. I regularly have earbuds in just to give the appearance that I'm listening to something just so she doesn't complain to me as much. Even this doesn't work, as she then started poking me to get my attention just to get me to take out my earbud to hear her complain.

At this point, blowing an airhorn whenever she complains seems to be the only thing that might work.

[silviakundera]

Kinnporsche fic I won't write:

the one where we can flesh out the ep 3-5 timeline, as Kinn's escorts all start getting a crush on Porsche, who is hot and sweet.

After Big outs Kinn and Porsche tells him off, he gets a little protective

does that asshole fuck with you? Decides he will take home all of Kinn's boys and Show An Interest.

He asks about their job and let's them pick the music and stops for street food & beers on the way driving them home, gossiping about shitty, entitled customers and why there isn't more of a retail to serial killer pipeline. It's not unlike a really charming first date, which is why they start shooting their shot. and, well, he's been so lonely & is used to getting laid on the job. They're pretty and friendly and smell like sex.

soon Porsche is making out with each escort at drop-off while the car idles at the curb. Just soft, slow kisses as he rubs his thumb behind the guy's ear, making him shiver into it. Everyone's Favorite Bartender Porsche walks each one to the door every time and ruffles their hair goodbye, and he's just SO. MUCH.

a repeat buisness escort starts gossiping w Kinn one night about Porsche's everything "did u know what he did THEN???? and that chain around this neck..., his skin there is SO SOFT. FUCK."

Kinn is like laughing mad about it for about 10 seconds but then just incredibly relieved that finally he can vent about his crush and they break out the good shit, getting increasingly hammered on top shelf whiskey and sharing the equivalent of thirst posts about Porsche's laugh, tits, waist, ass, and attractively terrible winking that would make kpop stans proud.

(the only escort who's ever stayed the night)

(because he was passed out on the floor, head under an end table and cuddling a jumbo bag of shrimp-flavored chips)

but then after The Auction Incident, Porsche takes home the flavor of the day and the boy is like CONCERNED. what is wrong w Porsche?? who broke him?! Bangkok sex worker phone tree engaged.

Kinm gets petulant looks behind his back, lazy handies, and passive aggressively awful blowjobs. It's not just that Kinn is pining, he's getting objectively bad service and is too distracted to notice.

instead of Kinn following advice from Pete on how to stop screwing up with Porsche he finally just breaks and asks his escort in THE MOST AWKWARD moment. They're like mid-fuck and Kinn just pulls back, still breathing hard and resting his weight on his hands. ahh! stop. I gotta ask you something. ... You've made out with Porsche, right? Sober? "... yes?" Explain how u made that happen. In detail.

kinn takes actual! notes! he's gonna get his man. and so he never visits Porsche on his break but when Porsche comes back to the compound Kinn is downstairs in like 5 min flat, he's RUSHING. It's super embarrassing, because he's obviously excited-anxious and a lil flustered and Big very much wants to die. (no, Big! in this more sexy universe u LIVE) (anyway) Kinn strolls up with serious buisness face and Porsche immediately gets defensive but then, like, confused. because Kinn wants him to drive them around to run?? errands?? all day??

and Kinn keeps trying to make small talk? and ask about what being a mafia bodyguard is actually like and which super nutritious meal disgusts you the most. Kinn is trying so hard to be chill and relateable and not a weirdo rich crime lord. It's totally not working at all, except Porsche is reluctantly charmed by how bad Kinn's taste in music is and how confidently he says ridiculous things and how he smiles to himself out the window when he thinks Porsche isn't looking.

he has them stop to get food and then cheap beers. puts a hand on Porsche's thigh and looks very expectant.

it clicks for Porsche, OMG. he is actually running the post-job make-outs playbook. starts laughing in Kinn's face, naturally, but then the patented awwww noooo come 'ere and coaxing Kinn's stern face to tilt back to him and accepting a sharp, petulant kiss that Porsche breaks off from to laugh more. ❤

[monster-rinds]

Chapter 1: Not a woman

I used to be pretty good at pretending to be human.

But my confidence in that skill irreparably crumbled with the wink of a sharply winged eye.

My hand was passing a box of tampons over the laser scanner when it happened. And while it wasn’t just the weird context that did it, that was the situation that sent my mind spiraling through a set of inappropriate responses. Why wink right then?

I was also enduring Christmas music half a month past Halloween, and had memories of two of my coworkers talking during our last break about how nobody really knows how to recognize flirting. The conversation had coursed through a pop psychology evaluation of different neurotypes, including ASD, ADHD, BPD, C-PTSD, ASPD, and a few others, very briefly, with one of my coworkers saying that since they were autistic they had always felt alien amongst other humans and that for them it was worse. Except, according to the other coworker, studies had shown that it didn’t matter your neurotype. Everyone was equally bad at it.

The coincidence of having Cassy and Ayden’s words bouncing around in my head, competing with “Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande, while holding a box of tampons and receiving a wink from a customer I had never met before, kind of twisted my sense of self a hundred and thirty-seven degrees off from the axis of my place in the world.

I felt my face flash the sort of rictus grin I’ve seen on Cassy’s face fairly regularly.

And the customer stuck their tongue out at me, pushed up against the white of their teeth, nose wrinkled.

And then.

And then, to my utter horror, I held up the box of tampons before putting them in the bag, and asked, “Got any special plans for these tonight?”

This was back during the time I took a job at Hayward Groceries, in Gresham, Oregon. 

This was probably one of the more laid back types of retail jobs you could have at the time. If grocery is considered retail. Selling food and household items to people tends to be easier than electronics or cars or music or whatever. You just check out their items, bag them, take their money, and chat a little bit. Giving them their receipt puts a nice cap on the interaction, and then you move on to the next one.

And when I say that I took the job, I mean I walked into the business one day, logged into one of the registers, and started working the till. 

How I did this doesn’t need to be known. I might need to do it again someday.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, and the way that I did it meant that I wouldn’t have to worry about any sort of paperwork or taxes. Of course, I didn’t get paid, but that didn’t matter to me. I was there to help and talk to people, and the job gave me the opportunity to do that.

And as my eyebrows raised themselves in question, my left hand hovering the box of tampons over the pride-striped reusable grocery bag, my right hand reached for the next item to ring up. A bottle of red wine.

“Oh, you know,” the customer began to say, “I’m thinking of a nice marinade overnight.”

“Ew!” blurted the customer in line behind them.

And while this was funny, and not unusual for working a counter, and we all laughed at it, all I could think was that no one had ever winked at me before.

If you take a tired clerk and put them into an unusual social exchange, something slightly off script, their reactions are likely to be even further off, as were mine. And that is one of the genuine joys of working with the public in a relatively quick paced environment.

And nobody noticed that I wasn’t an actual employee. Everyone else got paid the same as before. The workload was shared by one more cashier. The business was able to handle more customers without having to pay for the extra work. And there weren’t any complaints.

It was a minor deception, really. And one that was accepted by everyone.

And so, during this era of my life, I was having a pretty good time, and I really enjoyed getting to know my coworkers and some of the regulars.

And the events of this exchange, beyond the wink, weren’t really bothering me.

Had no one, in my entire existence, really ever winked at me before?

A wink was a conspiratorial gesture, as I understood it. It could have been flirting, but it could also have been something else.

It’s pretty intimate. It implies there’s some sort of shared knowledge. Or so I’m told. I’ve seen it occur in movies as a gag, a lot, where the communication breaks down completely and the person being winked at really doesn’t notice or doesn’t know what it’s about. It’s pretty clear that it’s understood that for a wink to be meaningful, both parties have to be expecting it.

And I hadn’t been expecting it. Why should I? I’d never been winked at before.

Which is kind of bizarre in and of itself, but I figured there was a reason for that. I didn’t really know anybody. Or nobody knew me. Nobody ever really could.

And then I’d made that rictus grin before I could take control of my face. Like Steve Martin cringing at his character’s own foolishness while facing the camera that caught his antics on film.

And I’d gotten a silly conspiratorial smirk in response? From this person I didn’t know?

I couldn’t see anything about us that we had in common, except maybe our sense of fashion and general gender expressions. And for me, those things are very superficial.

Had they seen past my guise somehow? Did we have something deeper in common?

I didn’t sense anything. Not that I’m particularly good at that.

While everyone was giggling over the disgusting little conversation about tampons, I finished ringing them up and bagging their groceries, putting the wine in its own paper sack before slipping it into the bag. Then, as I handed them their receipt, I leaned forward, brow furrowed, and asked a question quietly.

“What was the wink for?” came out of my mouth in a near whisper.

Taking the receipt and hefting their bag from in front of me, they shrugged and tilted their head to the side and said, easily, “Your reaction. I just wanted to see if a hunch was right, and it totally was. Have a great evening, Synthia!”

I have a name tag. It says “Synthia, she/her” on it. So it was pretty reasonable to assume that's my name.

Once, one of my coworkers asked me about the spelling and I told him, “My dad wanted to name me Moog, but my mom objected.” Everyone had laughed.

I don’t have a dad. Never did.

Without learning their name, I waved at the customer and said, “Oh, goodie! You, too!” And then turned to the next one.

And most of the rest of my shift went just fine. Externally. But internally, I was a wreck.

What had been that person’s hunch?

Was I making more of it than I should because the wink had been so new to me?

Or was I actually in danger of being discovered and outed?

If you’ve ever had to hide something big about yourself for a long time, you can probably understand my concern. Small things seem bigger than they are, especially when they happen for the first time. And there is a lot at stake, after all.

I’d been discovered and outed before, but not with a wink and a smile.

And now I was reviewing my own reactions and my tenacity to ask directly about the wink, and I was feeling like I’d given a lot away. It felt like my facade had slipped, and I’d reacted more according to my nature than to my wisdom and experience.

I didn’t think I’d behaved particularly inhuman. But I hadn’t matched the behavior of my recent past very well.

I’d been doing so well, too.

This worry irked me so much that when I was hanging up my apron and name tag in the back with Cassy, after work, I asked her, “How often have other women winked at you?”

I decided, for the purposes of this question, that assuming the flirty customer had been a woman was the shortest method of filtering potential answers to something useful to me. They certainly had not appeared to be a cisgender man.

Cassy frowned, and replied, “My friends and I do it a lot? But strangers? I don’t know. Sometimes? Why?”

“It has happened to me only once. Today,” I told her. “During checkout.”

“Did you get her number?”

“No?”

“OK, but she knows where you work. So there’s still a chance of a second date,” she said.

“Second…?” I started to ask.

“I’m joking. But she might have been a lesbian!” Cassy explained. “Tell me more. How did you react? Did you wink back?”

“I grimaced, like this,” I demonstrated.

“Oh, yeah, OK. I get it,” she replied. “How’d she respond?”

“By sticking her tongue out against her upper teeth and wrinkling her nose in this way that is usually cute,” and I demonstrated that.

“That is phenomenally cute on you, Synthia,” Cassy snickered. “Has anyone told you you’re really good at imitating other people?”

“But you didn’t see her do it,” I pointed out.

She shook her head, “I don’t need to. You’ve got my grimace down perfect, and I’ve seen you imitate Ayden when you don’t realize you’re doing it. You’re a natural!”

“Ah.”

“Seriously, Synthia, you’re a riot when you relax,” Cassy said. “At least, you are from my autistic perspective. Tell you what, I bet she just clocked you as on the spectrum.”

“Weird,” I said. “I did ask her why she winked.”

“Well? What’d she say?”

“That I confirmed a hunch she had by my reaction,” I replied.

“Well, then, that’s definitely it,” Cassy said.

“Autistic women wink at each other?” I asked, genuinely incredulous. The behavior didn’t match the stereotypes I’d heard about.

“Oh, of course. Especially if we’re lesbians!” Cassy dismissed my question with a wave. “Sometimes we don’t know when it’s not appropriate to wink. Come on, you should know this.”

I bit my lip and made an “mmm” noise.

She looked at me out of the side of her eye and admonished me, “Sweetie. Darling. Synthia. OK, we’re not all the same, but you can’t tell me you’re not autistic. I mean, there’s a reason we’re friends.”

“Maybe I am,” I suggested. I’m not. I wouldn’t mind if I were, but I’m not. I can’t be measured meaningfully in that way. But I could see the role I was playing in this conversation and I let it happen.

“Oh, OK,” she said, nodding and pushing her hand toward me. “I’ll eat my apron if you’re not. But that doesn’t matter. You’re autistic enough, and she probably thought you were. Especially if you flashed her my grimace.”

That did make me feel a bit better. A plausibly deniable reason for the exchange. So, I said, “OK. Thank you.” But, to get a bit more out of her, I added, “I don’t feel autistic, though. How would I know?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s a whole bunch of things, big and small. Watching so many people able to do things you can’t do, but not knowing why. Being able to do things that nobody else can, and not feeling like you’re even human because of it. That sort of thing.”

“And that grimace makes me look not human like you?” I asked, knowing full well what autism was and that my feigned concern was meaningless. Cassy was definitely human. I just wanted a little more conversation. Though, I really was also worrying away at my sense of self and whether my facade was still good.

Cassy laughed. “You’re fine. It was harmless. And, hey, maybe you’ll see her again and make faces at each other some more,” she said, walking toward the door. “It’ll make the day go faster!”

“Yes,” I agreed.

Cassy turned to me and squinted, “Synthia. Wanna go to Shady’s with me and Ayden? It’s dark and quiet and they’ve got great drinks.”

“I really need to eat dinner,” I told her. “Sorry.”

“Well, they have food,” she replied.

“I can’t eat their food,” I explained. Well, I could, but it wouldn’t suffice for me as a meal. But I would never tell anyone that.

“Of course! Come after you eat?”

“Maybe…”

“Well, OK. See you there if you come. We’d love it if you joined us some time,” she said carefully.

“Thank you,” I said.

And then I walked home.

Cassy’s explanation really did make me feel better about the whole day, but now I couldn’t get another thing out of my head.

Even while I had been talking to Cassy, I had felt off. And watching myself respond to her I could see myself saying and doing things I wouldn’t have done before. Or, not doing things I would have done before. It had been as if I’d already accepted her model that I was autistic, even before she’d suggested it, and had subconsciously followed a script based on my preconceptions of what that meant. Or my observations of autistic characters on T.V.

I’d had a flat affect and said things in a matter of fact fashion instead of my usual quippy repartee. Which is fine, as far as humans behave. There are plenty of humans who do that. Just not me, usually.

Something was off about me. And even if it wasn’t enough to be strange or alarming to anyone I knew or met, it was enough to make me wonder what was going on. Normally, I have a lot more control than that.

And there was still the slight chance that the customer had not clocked me as autistic or queer or anything normal like that.

I found myself staring at the sidewalk as I proceeded to my wooded lot between Elliot and Linden streets. Much less aware of my surroundings than I usually pushed myself to be, I actually almost walked through a couple of red lights. And this startled me.

Both times, I did look around up and down both sets of streets and up at the sky, to make sure I hadn’t missed anything else.

And then I kept going.

And by the time I got home, to my wooded lot, which I don’t know if it’s legally owned by anybody in particular, I was looking at the sidewalk again, deep in thought. Thinking the same thing I had been thinking when I’d left Hayward Grocery.

And I just habitually turned toward my woods, and then I looked up and turned, and did my usual thing of letting my gaze follow the path of a car as it drove by. To let me scan my surroundings without looking too obvious about it. Though I'm sure I failed this time.

And there, standing on the sidewalk before me, where my eyes landed after following the car, arms at their sides, pride-striped grocery bag in hand, head cocked slightly to the side, was the customer. Grinning.

[diagonal-queen]

If the BSD boys were my coworkers

♡ characters: Atsushi Nakajima, Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Kunikida Doppo, Ranpo Edogawa, John Steinbeck, Edgar Allan Poe

♡ synopsis: How would these boys be if they were my coworkers?

♡ cw: Swearing, knives, mentions of sexual harassment

note: For clarification I'm a retail assistant at a grocery store. So basically how good are these boys at stocking vegetables and being nice to people? This is extremely self indulgent, which I apologise for. Also apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Atsushi:

Would be so good with helping customers. I'd always be calling after him to get me out of trouble with mean old customers lol

Like me would also be bad with the wrapping machine T-T

Pretty good at his job, not totally brilliant but also not bad. I think it'd be fine if I were left alone with him for a little bit

The kindest coworker I could ask for honestly he'd always be there to help me if I needed his help

Would bring me back a snack or cake from a nearby bakery or cafe from his lunch break <3

Like me, would find it very hard to not just start eating all the fresh fruit while he's stocking it (I kin him a lot guys lmao)

Actually like super duper efficient and we'd be able to get our work done pretty quickly. The last half hour or so of our shifts would be so slow

Would always ask me to be careful if I were using a knife to do something because he's just a sweetie

Dazai:

This dude would be so damn slow when restocking food honestly and it would be infuriating lmao

Wouldn't be very thorough when checking stock so I'd probably be finding a bit of rotten fruit while working :'(

He'd be fun to hang out with in the back though, would definitely flirt on company time and hold the both of us up lol

Would do that thing where you stand behind someone who's trying to reach something in a high shelf and you'd get it for them but also lowkey lean against them. All the time

Would be good at remembering which stock we have and what we don't have though

He would be so good and charismatic with customers, especially old women they'd call him a charming young gentleman and all that stuff

Always forgets to bring his shit (nametag, pen, apron etc.) to work and would probably have to continuously borrow things

The thing with him is that he's legitimately good at all of it but he just chooses to be incompetent just because T-T

Chuuya:

Would be so. fucking. GOOD at this job holy shit.

Super good at wrapping stock and would get the hang of all the machinery and stuff immediately

Would be civil to customers unless they give him shit then he'd give it right back lmaoo

He would definitely also defend me if I was being bullied by Karens or being harassed by male patrons (during the daytime there's my adult male coworkers and then there's me, a small girl who looks like fifteen or some shit. Y'all know I be gettin called 'sweetie' by men four times my age)

Would always be very salty about having to use the step to reach stock on high shelves lol

But he'd also be super good at heaving and lifting heavy stuff like potato sacks which I'd have to get him to do for me because I'm weak

Would look so hot in the work uniform highkey

Like the number one coworker I won't lie

Akutagawa:

Akutagawa has a serious case of resting bitch face, so customers would be too worried to approach him lmao and I'd have to help everyone

He makes up for this by being super duper good at presentation and so I'd never have to go around and organise things because they'd always look pretty lol

Probably uses his ability to help him carry things (but only in the back because that would scare customers)

Despite his fighting talent he would not be able to cut vegetables. He would be so confused with it. Same with the wrapping he wouldn't be able to get it right

Would prefer to wear gloves while working

If Gin ever came in to grab some groceries he'd talk to her for a little (and treat her better than all the other customers T-T)

Actually wouldn't be so bad to talk to while working but he would literally never initiate any conversations or small talk

Focuses so hard while he's working and it's honestly so cute

Kunikida:

He would be both good to work with but also crappy to work with hear me out

He would be great at remembering stock, helping me with customers, and helping me reach stuff on high shelves because at work I'm considered short

But he'd also hound me for being too slow or not stacking stuff correctly

That being said, he would always answer any questions that I'd have and explain things to me in a way that I'd understand :)

Works like a machine. I'd never be able to catch up to him at all (and he would hate that)

Would not want me bringing snacks or drinks to work but like what's he gonna do? Waste perfectly good food? Didn't think so Kunikida >:)

Even if he had a super long shift he'd just never tire and always be buzzing (even if he were tired he'd be great at concealing it)

Let's just be glad that he's not working alongside Dazai

Ranpo:

WOULDN'T GET ANY GODDAMN WORK DONE

I love Ranpo to the moon and back but he'd be the most useless fucking coworker of all time

He wouldn't make lists, he wouldn't grab stock and if I'm LUCKY he'd work out the front of the store. He'd use any excuse to stay in the back and just use the label maker and maybe cut vegetables because of how low effort it is

Would be super fun to hang out with if we have nothing to do though. We would talk so much shit about mean customers we encounter and stuff

He'd also bring sweets to work and let me have some sometimes, but only if I nag him about not doing any work

Would stay in the fridge just to breathe out and see mist come out of his mouth (and would also forget to close the fridge door)

Knows the layout of the whole damn store after walking through it ONE time

In conclusion I'm snitching to Fukuzawa

Steinbeck:

Absolute fucking BEAST. This dude is a farmer so he's able to rotate and complete quality checks at lightning speed

Honestly probably wouldn't need much training if any at all. He'd be the employee of the month on the first day

I feel like I'd have tons of free time at the end of my shifts because he'd just finish all the work so fast

Could use his ability to replenish stock. He could, but he won't. Just because he's a bit of a bitch (and people might not want to eat literal flesh vegetables but y'know)

Hums along to the songs that he knows on the radio while he works

Is good at being civil with customers but if they give him lip he's not gonna be as civil for much longer

Always bantering with our other coworkers and DEFINITELY talking shit about annoying customers in our free time

I mean if I want to not have to do very much work on a certain day I'd hope that I'd be working with John lol

Poe:

Would take a little while to get used to it all, because I feel like he's not the type to memorise a bunch of stuff super fast

Would be overwhelmed by customers and might freeze up on them; I'd have to come in and save him

Otherwise, he might just default to 'I'll go to the back and check for you' so he can escape the situation (same)

Would take pretty long while restocking food because he'd want to make it all look nice lol

He'd be scared of the wrapping machine (it has a hot plate to seal wrapping and he'd be scared of burning himself on it)

Might actually always be miserable because he's not allowed to bring Karl to work and so he'd feel lonely :(

He and I would talk about our niche interests when we're finished and have nothing else to do

I mean he could most definitely be worse. No matter how bad he'd be I'd love him anyway

i will do a girls version of this btw

[nickgerlich]

Surging Forward

When it comes to the Four Ps of Marketing, there is one that affects us the most. It raises eyebrows. It may cause mental anguish. And it hits where it hurts the most, the pocketbook. I can only be talking about one thing: Price.

As I was telling my undergrads yesterday, they have now lived through—and survived—a period of inflation. This hasn’t happened for 40 years, which I remember all too well from my university days. It’s the kind of thing you tend to remember forever.

While inflation is now more or less within a reasonable range (about 3.1% last month), our grocery bills are up about 25% in the last four years. You can thank the compounding effect for that. Some manufacturers have responded by reducing the size of the package, so they can try to maintain price points. Labeled as “shrinkflation” by President Biden and others, it gives the illusion that prices haven’t gone up, even though the unit price definitely has.

Given that we have all now become hyper-sensitized to price since COVID, it should come as no surprise that Wendy’s plans to test surge pricing for its hamburgers is drawing the ire of many. It’s bad enough that the price of fast food has skyrocketed, but now they want to charge even more during hours of peak demand, as well as at locations that are typically busier than others.

Surge pricing, which also goes by the moniker dynamic pricing, has been in use for decades. It’s what explains the matinee price at movie theatres, a time of day in which far fewer people are likely to see a movie. Airlines have done it for years, with peak demand times seeing fares much higher than off-peak. Add hotels to the mix, too. Business hotels are often weekend bargains for families, because all the people with expense accounts have gone home. And we all know how expensive food and beverages are at airports and stadiums, while not far away they are much lower.

Uber is another company leaning on this model, with the price of a ride reflecting the demand. If a stadium is emptying out, the price just went up. Many other retailers, from Amazon to Target, Kroger, Best Buy, and others have done it. The advent of digital price tags makes it all too easy to reset prices within a store, or even systemwide. Heck, I even saw it in Germany some years ago, with gas stations raising prices at peak commuting times, and lowering them during others. Shame on you for not refueling at a better time!

One of the more interesting aspects of dynamic, or surge, pricing is that used on Dallas-area toll roads and express lanes. Essentially, the price is set based on traffic volume. As congestion increases, the price for diverting to the express lane goes up. The thinking is that it might just be worth your added dollars to be able to zoom by the unlucky proletariat stuck in traffic. Be sure to wave as you go by. These lanes are the sky boxes of the highway system. At peak times, a person driving solo can pay up to $0.90 per mile for the privilege.

The weeks ahead will be interesting to see how the market reacts to Wendy’s move, and whether they stick to their guns or back down. If customers swallow surge pricing, it opens the flood gates for all fast food restaurants to do the same. It could then spill over into all restaurants, and everywhere else. Consumers will be left at wit’s end trying to keep up with what amounts to a wide array of possible prices for the things they buy. I suspect that apps and websites will arrive that allow for crowdsourced updates on all of it.

It’s the price we pay for being alive today. Inflation is one thing, but having to endure exorbitant temporary price hikes is quite another. Even staying home and being a hermit does not make you immune, because you still have to buy things. As for me, I’m staying in the slow lane just as a matter of principle, and because I’m still waiting for my salary to go up commensurately to account for the last four years.

Dr “Not Getting Inflated Expectations” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[scrapcheese]

MKDM headcanons!

Headcanon: Takiya and Kobayashi knew each other from college

At the time they’re just in the same classes and end up on a lot of group projects together. One night they go out drinking and one of them slips up and mentions maids, freaks out a bit but then the other one ALSO starts talking about maids and ever since then they started to hang out more. They are both giant nerds in slightly different directions and i think even in college they were like that.

//

Also I am 100% certain that in canon, Takiya is considered attractive by his coworkers and he finds it annoying when they try to ask him out!! (chapter 8 of the manga, he joins Kobayashi for christmas as an excuse because people keep asking him out around that time)

SO IN COLLEGE THEY START TO FAKE DATE to get people off of Takiya’s back and because kobayashi’s parents keep bothering her about getting a boyfriend.

The thing is they are super bad at it and their dynamic doesn’t change whatsoever, they still act very much like bros, just that when people ask they’re just like “oh yeah we’re dating totally” and it somehow.. works?? 

also the trope of “we fake date but actually fall in love for real”?  Never happens. That’s because I feel like at this point Kobayashi probably realizes she’s not quite into guys and prefers girls more and Takiya realizes he’s not quite into girls (or anyone for that matter.)

They stopped fake dating after college. Maybe they don’t talk as often while looking for jobs and going about life, but reconnect after they start working at the same company

=====

Headcanon(?): All the kids go to the same school

This one isn’t much of a headcanon but more of I just never see it being discussed. I’m pretty sure Kanna, Saikawa and Shouta all go to the same school, just in different grades. Come on there’s so much potential there!!!!!

=====

Headcanon: Takiya used to work at a bookstore or some sort of customer service/retail job in that year before joining the company

because HOLY SHIT HE HAS THE PATIENCE OF A SAINT. I don’t think he’s ever gotten genuinely mad at someone in like the whole series. And I feel like you need a lot of patience (or some level of "too tired to deal with this”) to be roomates with Fafnir, at least initially.

(Context: In canon, Ch 35, Kobayashi gets accepted first into the company that they work at, then Takiya in the following year)

=====

Headcanon: Fafnir has a hair routine

Like its probably not a very long one, but he definitely takes care of his hair. Like its super long and stuff and at one point in the anime Takiya gets him some sort of shampoo/conditioner. I like to think that he really gets into it after a while.  (Probably takes better care of his hair than Kobayashi does honestly)

the other dragons probably bought him a dyson airwrap for christmas, either as a joke or as a serious gift (he would definitely use it for real though)

=====

Headcanon: Takiya has a Fafnir fund.

OK so we know Fafnir is freeloading in Takiya’s apartment. I like to think that after Fafnir’s been there for like a month or something, a part of Takiya’s “otaku expenses fund” got transferred into a “Fafnir expenses fund” to cover for the amount that the electrical bill must be. Like bro is gaming for 21+ hours a day, and there are 2 computers running in that household, can you imagine how much that would cost in the long run?

His friends probably donate to the Fafnir fund as a joke sometimes, like I can see Kobayashi and Lucoa doing that. 

=====

Headcanon: Tohru and Fafnir meet up once a week so she can teach him about cooking human food. 

I literally wrote a whole fanfic about this. I think Fafnir knows how to cook but only after he goes to Tohru to ask about human food and how to make it. He doesn’t ask her directly about how to cook (he doesn’t know how to ask for help) but I think they’re good enough friends that Tohru can pick up on the request without him even saying it.

Also Elma is there sometimes to learn how to cook but she usually ends up eating her share of the ingredients before it’s done.

=====

Headcanon: Kanna is oddly good at playing shiritori

Ok this one is a headcanon that I just like because it’s fun to think about + it came from memories of my childhood. Shiritori is that word game where you use the last letter (or syllable in japanese0 as the start of a new word.

I think that she plays that with her classmates and they find our that she’s just really good at it, like “hasn’t lost once” levels of good at it. They challenge her a few times a week, and after she gets tired of doing it so often, they set a rule where you have to bet something in the game in order to play. This becomes a trend in her school, and they even have shiritori tournaments sometimes. I think the teachers would encourage this because it gets the kids reading and learning more words.

=====

Headcanon: Elma has a hydroponic garden in her apartment

You know those gardens that don’t use soil and just water? Yeah Elma has one of those, she’s literally the holy sea priestess, she can control water well enough. She just keeps it somewhere in her (in canon very empty) apartment and grows a bunch of vegetables. And melons, I think she would like melons.

But also she’d probably eat them before they are fully ripe, I don’t think she has the patience to actually wait for it to fully grow

[z-h-i-e]

The difference now is that retail didn’t used to be shit. I went back to my original retail job twice (and both times returned to a promotion). I worked for a ‘mom and pop’ store, literally. We were family there. I went to my boss’ house for Christmas parties. They gave us yearly bonuses based on how well the sales were for the year. When an employee turned 18, they started a retirement plan for them, not because they had to, because it was the right thing. We had bowling parties. They hired a comedy group to come in and perform at the store after hours for the crew one time. Years later, I was in a newspaper and they cut it out and framed it on construction paper with a glitter border and had a cute former employee message with it and hung it in the lobby.

But more than all that, they treated us like people. When I started and they asked what to call me and I said Zhie, no one questioned it. When I had theater and orchestra, I had off Friday nights and weekends. When I started college, they had a party for me and made sure I could attend all my classes. I got a job on campus and left them, but when that job ended six months later they hired me back within two weeks (basically the day they found out I was looking for a job)—as a manager.

And when things went bad, they took care of us. Disrespectful customers were asked not to return. Really bad weather? We were told to use our judgement and close early to get home safe. And so many nice customers. Sure, there were people who were jerknuggets but they were few and tended not to be return customers.

When I go to stores I can’t say I’m always like, ideal customer — typically due to the self checkout kiosks — but I find myself trying to chat and joke with any clerk who says hi. I had a nice chat today with the clerk at Speedway; he’s always saying fun things, so I try to at least say hi and thank you and have a good one if I don’t have time for more talking (tonight we did talk about my un-vacation). I had a problem at the craft store the other day and the clerk had to return and rering the whole order (neither of us noticed it rang through 23 of something I had 2 of until we finished the transaction). As I was joking with her while the manager came up to verify, she said something like ‘you’re just an angel, being so nice, you know that?’ And the thing is, all of us can be that to clerks, even on a shitty day, because I was indeed having a shitty day that day, and I could have been a jerk about the register mistake, but #1 she’s not the person who made the prior shitiness happen and #2 it takes a lot more energy to be an asshole. Far better to laugh about not needing 23 bottles of glitter paint even if the universe thought I did. (It also rang up 4 candy bars instead of 2, but for that I just grabbed two more candy bars—I mean if the universe wants me to buy two more Hershey bars with almonds, who am I to argue?)

Going back to part the first - said store is gone, run out of business by big boxes and the internet. So my last bit is, to keep good little stores in business to be islands of retail paradise, we have to shop at them when we can. It’s why I pick up comics at an independent store instead of getting them ordered from somewhere online or buying digital, and pick up soup and bread and produce at the fruit market that is LGBTQIA friendly and STILL has plexi up to protect their workers, and order Chinese food from the family business down the street instead of a chain store where it’s technically faster and cheaper and has a drive thru. It’s because I want to see these places stick around, I want to see opportunities for people to work at places that are happy and good.

Pulling on the info from the second bit above — I enjoyed working Black Friday when I worked retail. #1 - we didn’t open until noon so that employees could sleep in from Thanksgiving or go out and shop elsewhere.. #2 - we didn’t have special sales. Whatever the normal sales were was it.. #3 - because of #1 & 2 at a time of no internet shopping, we still got tons of happy customers because they had gone elsewhere, elsewhere was out, and we had what they needed.

I wish we had a mindset collectively and an economy that could support more small businesses.

People always gloss over how mentally damaging it can be to work in retail. I fucking hate that whenever I say “I could never work in retail again” someone has to reply “You snowflake millennials can’t take a starter job because you have to INTERACT with other people” No. Fuck you. I’ve worked as a planetarium host. I’ve worked as a public speaker. I’ve worked as a tutor and as a student teacher. I can work with people. I can work with crowds. Retail was fucking different. Retail was being treated as a subhuman. Retail was being treated so poorly that you have anxiety attacks before work. Having to work retail was a factor in my last suicide attempt. If I hear you say one fucking word about retail workers playing the victim I will personally break every bone in your body. Fuck You.

[katrani]

Books Read 2025: Nickel and Dimed

So like, I probably picked a bad week to actually read this one. Just kind of added to the background anger in a lot of ways. The book's twenty years old!!!!!!! And we're still dealing with the same shit, just slightly different numbers!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In some span from 1998-2000 or so, Enhenreich took three months (unclear if it's continuous or spaced out?) to run the old experiment of "can I live on minimum wage for x time". And yanno, a lot of people get flack for poverty tourism, but I will give her that she actually has the working-class family background to be cognizant of the problems with doing anything like this and that it feels less like tourism and more like a considered approach.

So to me, sitting at a desk all day was not only a privilege but a duty: something I owed to all those people in my life, living and dead, who'd had so much more to say than anyone ever got to hear.

But if the question was whether a single mother leaving welfare could survive without government assistance in the form of food stamps, Medicaid, and housing and child care subsidies, the answer was well known before I ever left the comforts of home.

She also set some extra factors for herself:

Furthermore, I had no intention of going hungry. If things ever got to the point where the next meal was in question, I promised myself as the time to begin the "experiment" approached, I would dig out my ATM card and cheat. So this is not the story of some death-defying "undercover" adventure.

It's a fairly straight-forward accounting from there, with some footnotes for Bureau of Labor statistics or info pulled from other articles. Ehrenreich doesn't pretend to have some unique viewpoint on this, if any researchers just seriously talked to people in these lower-wage categories they'd get the same answer. She just has the privilege of being a well-regarded writer when she went to do this that she can place the spotlight and be listened to. (Well, mildly, since nothing seems to have changed long-term, comparing the service job life now to her accounting.) She admits where she was "cheating", relying on being able to bring $1000 as starting funds or having the safety to go back to her real life for a couple of days (with the intention of catching up on business e-mails and the life, but I assume she didn't stick to low-wage meals on those days).

But she is funny and insightful, around that:

Or so said my father, who must have known what he was talking about because he managed [...] ascending from boiler-makers to martinis before booze beat out ambition.

At Hearthside, we utilize whatever bits of autonomy we have to ply or customers with the illicit calories that signal our love.

I am not tired at all, I assure myself, though it may be that there is simply no more "I" left to do the tiredness monitoring.

...but a lot of small things have been going wrong, and at this level of finances, nothing wrong is ever quite small enough.

I especially appreciate the retail chapter, because she spends a while in the psychology going on- the tiredness that leads to frustration at people who're just doing their shopping, the weird sense of pride that you have to take because otherwise everything else is too crushing, the odd sense of community that comes out of being stuck in a bad workplace with others and how that can make it harder to leave.

I do recommend this still, because either she gives insight into something some people haven't had to experience, or she puts words to stuff that can be so hard to pick out when you're in the middle of it. Even if they're out-of-date, I have a couple of articles I want to follow up about, and I am curious about stuff written about the welfare reforms happening at the late 90s- what exactly got changed and how long the push to do it took, what was the fallout. I was still a young kid back then, too young to know that all happened, but at a guess I think it must've affected how my family existed.

I will look up Ehrenreich's other books, at some point.

[moonlight-at-dawn]

Kiddo overheard part of a conversation Mika and I were having, idr how we were on the topic, but I was talking about how annoying it had been back when I worked at hellmart to have ppl sent to my dept that didn't do shit, and how when i'd been a cashier, i was specifically asked for BECAUSE i did everything assigned to me to make their life easier

(Holiday season, cashiers get sent to departments that MUST do their own transactions, like electronics and jewelry, so the cashier can be dedicated to ringing ppl up and the dept associate is dedicated to customer service. Usually the dept associate would be so busy running around that they wouldn't have time to do things like clean up displays, so that would be something the cashier would be asked to do if they weren't ringing someone up)

Anyway, that conversation had been a week or two ago. Kiddo last night, as if asking for a bedtime story, says "Mommy, tell me about the time everyone wanted you to work for them at (Hell)mart"

So I told him about it, and he asked questions, and we got on the topic of how I worked my ass off and when something happened and I couldn't, it was noticed and I was punished, but the ppl who didn't do shit just got to coast through without issue. He got somewhat distressed and, in a playfully upset voice, was like "Do I HAVE to work!?"

Then we talked about the difference between a career you care about and a job that will never care about you, and how at a retail job, you don't have to give it your all, and that was a lesson I'd learned the hard way, but if it's a job with a close team, where every moment matters, that you really believe in, etc, then it's worth the work.

And then we got to "And if you don't want to work retail, then you need to start deciding what sort of thing you DO want, so you can start on that path. Do you want to be a zookeeper of some kind? Pursue science. Do you want to work with video games? Well what role? Do you want to work quality? Practice giving feedback. Art? Do art! Script? Do writing! Programming? Well, buddy, that's math!" etc

All of a sudden he was fired up and wanted to write up a list of possible jobs he could be interested in. It's a very eclectic list, which is fine, he's 11, I just want him THINKING about it, not making "final" decisions lol

And today we were doing math and he was groaning over it (I know buddy, I know, but exponents aren't all bad) and after he finished up the lesson I was like "You want a real world application for math? Lets say you want to work with sea otters!" (his current obsession) "Look up their weight, now, lets pretend they need to eat this much food compared to their body weight, you need to do this math to figure out how much to feed them to keep them healthy! Vaccine time? Well, the vaccine is dosed out by (fraction milligrams per pound of critter) so you need to be able to multiply that fraction by their weight to know how much medicine to give them!"

He's... starting to get it. It's been a very long, very rough journey to get him to apply himself to school. But he's starting to get it. And I'm starting to learn how to talk to him about it. It's been hard for both of us. I was a huge nerd who liked learning for learning's sake so I didn't have the motivation issues he does. And trying to figure out how to put it in words to make him care about it is hard.

....But if terrible stories from my days in retail will motivate him, I've got a bunch XDDD

[cinder46231]

The fact this much effort was even put into the service. Like, I'll be nice to you because that is what is expected of me, you are a paying customer, and I have the time because it's been a slow day.

But when there are lines of both waiting-to-order and waiting-to-recieve customers and I am the only person working for the next hour, and they decide to hold up my time with an order that took 10 mins when it could have been 2 mins at most or complain about something being out of stock or talk about how "you ALWAYS get it from here" or how you want to you change this or can you add that but also not charge me, or not reading the menu while in line and reach till and open you order with UMMM or START YOUR WHOLE ORDER AGAIN AFTER 6 CUSTOMIZED ITEMS! you can bet I only have so much patience left to deal with your bullshit.

Them punching in their credit card pin aggressively and whispering "I don't like your attitude" means nothing to me when I have bigger issues to deal with and it just makes me want to put your order at BOTTOM OF BOTH LINES. The only reason I would deal with yours first would be to get you to LEAVE and hope you never grace our doorsteps to talk about bad attitude.

Don't expect food service and retail workers to be nice to you just because you are a customer. We were all taught in school to "treat others how we want to be treated" and if you treat us like garbage don't expect us to be the bigger person when you're the ones treating us as less than a person and pushovers to fufil your ridiculous requests. We'll treat you like you deserve to be treated.

If you need a model of what good customers look like, look to the person with allergies and diet restrictions. They know if they are kind that we will happily pull out every ingredient list and stock packaging in the store just so they can find something for them to enjoy because we want to see them happy to find another place they can have food without worry. They know not to take us for granted.

“I’ve NEVER. Eaten a DONUT. In my ENTIRE LIFE. And I’m NOT. About to start NOW.”

-Crazy customer I had today, upon being offered a complimentary donut

[voner99]

Found out that the assistant manager is making me look bad

so today talking to a coworker who is planning on leaving the place again by summer told me this. That Wednesday the assistant manager made claims that after I finished doing the garbages outside that I counted out my drawer and signed out and went to the back room and watched the clock. No we all know that this is not what happened. Like I’ve said in my previous posts on here I finished the garbages outside and washed my hands and used the bathroom. Then I went to my register to see that it was already counted out and I was already signed out of my drawer. Then like I said before I left the assistant manager snapped at me for no reason (the one making me look bad) and I punched out and quickly walked home and cried at home for this unfair treatment I Received. This is why I say there is always two different stories one is true and one is false in this case I’m telling you guys my side which is true, but I don’t know why the assistant manager would lie to others at work about that day and to make me look bad. What could have she gained by making up a false story about me when she knew that she quickly counted my drawer and signed me off my register while I was doing garbages outside? I think and this is a huntch only that she wanted me to be written up since I tried to get a job at their competitor so she planned this set up so she could get me in trouble for something else that way she could yell at me . Like I have told you all I have been trained for supervisor in retail by other managers in the past so I do know how they are sapose to talk to the employees, act , and what they can and can’t do. I hope she knows that she can get in really big trouble for making up this story to make me look bad cause there is physical evidence of my story on their security cameras that take video if corporate and the store manager would watch the video. But even with proof the assistant manager would change her story again to make me look bad yet. So what do I do well I keep on looking for a different job and keep on pushing myself to keep on working there to pay bills and buy food. Like the store manager of Shopko Hometown taught me as a supervisor you have to watch what you do to your employees and how you talk to your employees and you can’t always be fair ether, you do or say the wrong thing to your employees they can quit without a notice and go run to Ashley furniture for a job. A supervisor is one that does not favor any employee and tries to keep turnover down and making sure that the store is profitable for the company. A supervisor cannot retaliate against any employee for anything and cannot chew out the employee in front of customers on the sales floor and any chewing out has to be done in the back room or managers office.

[loregoddess]

Are there any anecdotes you want to share? Nothing too personal of course!

Hmm, I'm sure I have all sorts that I can't think of off the top of my head, but one I know I've told a few times in tags goes back to 2020. For context, I work at a chain restaurant, usually as a cashier, and of course, everything in the business was a mess in 2020 due to Covid, and we were also operating on a skeleton crew due in part to upper management refusing to let us schedule more people (bc it would start "cutting into profits" ugh) and partly bc we couldn't keep most of the new hires past two weeks (which was due to an entirely different concoction of reasons, although I blame upper management for several of them as well).

So, that's the setting: chain restaurant, no indoor dining, no crew. I was the lone cashier through many a shift, and very often we had a line of people to the front door and wrapped around the building itself. For several weeks, this dad and his son of maybe like 10 years old, probably younger, come in during the midmorning part of my shift. I honestly can't remember their names or faces, but the dad always seemed pretty flustered and kinda in a rush, but his son was SO energetic and friendly. The kind of kid who likes to bounce around a lot, the one who parents normally get kinda frustrated with because they can't stand still through the transaction. Honestly, these kinds of kids don't bother me as a cashier, and so long as they're not bothering the other customers I see no harm in them letting a little energy off by bouncing around a bit.

Anyhow, I see these two for a few weeks, I always say hi to them and go through my generic cashier routine. I don't even really get to make small talk w/ either of them--the dad was, as I said, often in a rush. But for some reason the kid remembers me, even though I do literally nothing special, make no special comments while they're ordering, nothing. I might have given them some free drinks or a cookie once maybe, but I do that a lot even to this day, so I can't be sure I gave them anything nice like that.

So thanks to being the only cashier for like, many days in a row over many weeks, I was going a bit insane even if I tried to cover it with a professional work façade. I was so stressed out all the time, like an insane amount of stressed out. On a particularly stressful day bc half the crew called out for various (non-Covid, thankfully) reasons, the dad and his son came in, and partway through their order, the kid sets this rock on the counter, slides it across to me, and says "This is for you." I have half a second to tell him thank you before he laughs and bounces away, and the dad is so embarrassed for whatever reason and apologizes for his kid, and I'm like nah dude, I'm having a terrible day right now and this rock makes all the difference. The dad still finishes his order up super fast and calls his son to go wait at the food pickup counter and I pocket the rock, and it stayed in my pocket for the next like, 6-7 hours of my shift. I nearly cried when I got off that shift bc the day really sucked, but at the end I could pull out this rock that some kid who I didn't even know, but who remembered me somehow, was kind enough to gift me. It was just a piece of white quartz, he probably found it in the parking lot, but damn, I still have that rock in my purse, I bring it with me everywhere bc it was just, such a wildly kind gesture, and remembering it gives me a lot of strength to get through other shitty days.

Insofar as I know, I haven't seen the dad or his kid again. I get moved around positions a lot now, so I'm not always a cashier, but I do hope that kid has a great life wherever he is, bc damn, what a nice thing to do.

[motorclit]

Forgot to add: the republicans are getting mighty close to 100% being completely honest and blunt with their views and what they intend to do, and because their support base has adapted to agreeing with them over time, by the time they just come out and say it, their supporters will go from "nuh-uh, they aren't actually wanting to do/doing that" to eventually outright going "well what's wrong with that?"

I've watched my parents over the course of a DECADE going from being kind of prudish on some topics to outright supporting shooting immigrants crossing the southern border. I've watched them hear me talk about masks reducing the flu and cold spread ALMOST NINE YEARS AGO AND AGREEING WITH ME to being extremely anti-mask. They have listened to me talk about antifascist movements of the past, using that actual term as well as "antifa" as a term, to suddenly never hearing about them before until that festering cheetoh took office.

The brainwashing is frighteningly real. The thing I wonder is if they are lying about always supposedly having these views or if they genuinely believe they have no memory of me talking about certain topics they found harmless in the past that suddenly makes them foam at the mouth now.

They have been emotionally manipulated to where it has affected their thought patterns over time. This legit started in my household when 9/11 happened and suddenly faux news became available to them. It only EVER got worse since then.

My parents will interrupt and ignore ANY parallels between what's going on now and what happened in Germany decades ago with the exception of my dad almost hinting that the n*zis weren't all that bad by saying "we should have allied with them to fight communist Russia to prevent the USSR from coming into existence" because the Red Scare propaganda ran mighty fucking deep in this country and marinated in the minds of my parents' generation.

The only time I don't get much of an offensive pushback in conversation is when I talk to my parents about book banning. My mom thinks they're largely silly. But my dad was like, "Maybe if you read them, you'd realize why they should be banned!" To which I immediately went, "I ACTUALLY OWN ONE AND READ IT ON THAT LIST YOURE TALKING ABOUT. HAVE YOU?"

He suddenly wants to drop the subject. The book in question was "How To Be Anti-Racist" by Ibram X. Kendi. This wasn't too long after I had finished reading it.

My parents are their own echo-chamber to one another, with the exception of my uncle visiting to hunt (food reasons, not trophy hunting). Mom is on FB in her online echo chamber, and dad legit doesn't know how to look anything up online and REFUSES to learn how, watching things on YouTube that supports his bias only and taking comments he agrees with at face value. Btw, he does NOT have an account and refuses for whatever reason. The only sites he visits are YouTube and whatever I think that MSN-looking site is. (He has NO IDEA how to communicate what he does on his computer, he is so anti-technology until it supports his bias.)

My parents don't know how to hold their own in an argument because they parrot responses and talking points. They don't have the mental cue cards when they're met with someone who has, referring to my last example, someone who not only has the book but has also read it. As in, they legit panic when you offer to open the book to a particular page to disprove what they parrot, like it's a magic tome or the fucking Necronomicon.

Oh, and no... as of the last couple of decades, they don't read books (and my mom is oddly proud of that? For some reason?) My dad has a Glenn B*ck book but I don't think he read much of it. Most he reads is really old pulp fiction paperbacks from back in his day when he's on the toilet. And he's read it a million times.

They don't socialize outside of some family visiting or my mom occasionally visiting her sister. My mom's "regular socializing" is with her boss and sometimes customers at the retail store she works in (it's a small business store so it never gets crowded or anything).

They live in their bubble and refuse to talk to anyone outside the family that thinks or acts differently to them.

This is a glimpse as to what some cheetoh supporters tend to be like. We live on a farm in the middle of nowhere. They don't have cheetoh flags and banners and shit because they fear local democrats will attack them or something DESPITE THAT THIS ENTIRE AREA IS LARGELY CHEETOH COUNTRY, ESPECIALLY THE SUPER-RURAL SPOTS OF THIS RURAL AREA.

My parents have this victim mentality they adopted since they started watching faux news after 9/11. I swear, if either they didn't watch faux news or 9/11 didn't happen, it might not be this bad. There might have been hope for them.

They're beyond help, now. Nothing but their own free will (if they have any left) will make them change even slightly.

I don't get some people in the west here... all this talk about supporting Israel because they're Jewish, which of course, absolutely nothing wrong with being Jewish...

But these same people who support Israel here in the US don't seem to be as adamant in protecting Jewish people in the US who are catching all sorts of shit from antisemitic dipshits like neo-n*zis and the lizard people conspiracy theorists and shit.

I'm sure these same Americans who have these hypocritical views either aren't aware that the US turned away Jewish refugees during World War II, or they've heard about it but won't say anything about it to avoid either looking bad or tainting the "America is Great" narrative.

These also tend to be the same people who support politicians who excuse antisemitic actions that take place in the US and somehow ends up as the democrats' fault, so there's that.

They're also the kind who fear kid-touchers in the LGBTQ+ community but are "mysteriously" silent when catholic priests commit the same horrible acts.

Anybody else getting the whole doublethink/doublespeak vibes that George Orwell wrote about in his novel 1984?

[nickgerlich]

Machine Language

It is one of the most contentious of debates hitting retailers and restaurateurs these days. In their attempt to modernize and incorporate technology at every turn, they invariably wind up offending some customers’ sensibilities, as well as confusing those who no have tech savvy.

And then there are people like me who embrace all the change and have no problem using technology to make my life easier, which I am sure also benefits the business. Bring it, please, and hurry.

I could only be talking about self-serve kiosks, the touch screens and self-scanners that cause people to lose their minds over on social media. They fear jobs being lost and all manner of hypothetical ills. Maybe that’s just a cover for their inability to navigate the onscreen menus, but either way, there has been a line drawn in the sand between those who love and those who hate these things.

But a recent report yields a surprising conclusion: They’ve not been nearly as bad as some speculated, and all those fears of job losses simply did not materialize. In fact, by letting customers do the mundane part of the transaction—the ordering—it frees up employees to perform other essential tasks that help improve the customer experience.

The benefits of self-serve kiosks, especially in restaurants, are significant. The service level is consistent, removing the human element. Variability both within and between employees is removed by machines that always pitch the upsell at the precise same moment, and customized for each customer. In fact, with AI, it can be better than humans, because the order can be analyzed up to that point and relevant add-ons proposed that fit what the customer ordered.

It’s much better than just “Would you like fries with that shake?” No, now the machine-driven order taker can notice that you ordered a specific type of sauce to go on your taco, and would you like more?

Although fast food is not my thing, I confess to occasionally stopping at a Taco Bell while on long road trips, because I know that I can get bespoke burritos all courtesy of their kiosks. I can add this, delete that, to a far greater degree than you can do just standing there talking to a human, because the majority of the add-ons aren’t even on the menu. Well, not the one hanging on the wall behind the clerk. I am in and out of there in 10 minutes, and back on the road. Avocado and black beans? Yes, please.

Of course, there are downsides to kiosks. If you replace the human interaction aspect completely, thereby forcing customers to use the machines, there may be pushback. Some people are simply intimidated by them, and require assistance. This slows down the process. And, a study has shown that if there is a line at the machines, the same thing happens as when there’s a line to order with a human: We get cranky and order less. Or walk out.

As for supermarkets and other retailers with self-check kiosks, there is the increased risk of theft. It’s just too easy, especially with savvy thieves who tap the screen such that it thinks you are weighing bananas, but in fact laying a T-Bone steak on the scale, it’s easy to see how stores can wind up losing money.

As for me, I am a huge advocate of the self-serve kiosks. I don’t go shopping for chit-chat. I want to expedite everything. I also like packing my own groceries into my reusable shopping bags. Since I have Walmart+, I can simply scan a QR code when I’m ready to leave, and it charges the card I have on file within the app. Easy peasy. Call me a control freak, but I have this down. You can thank COVID for this. I cut my teeth on the system back then, and am now pro level.

I suspect that line in the sand is also a demarcation between younger and older shoppers, those most open to, and resistant to, change. Ooooh. There’s that word again. I use it a lot in every one of my classes. It’s a generational thing, digital natives versus the geezers who have spent their entire lives trying to keep up with all the changes around them.

It’s understandable, and to be honest, my students, you may very well just be geezers in training. I won’t be around, but please do a self-check—the personal reflection kind—when you hit 65. You may find yourself resisting technology that hasn’t even been invented yet.

Meanwhile, I have to make a Walmart run soon, probably later today. And you know where I will be when it’s time to wrap it up.

Dr “In And Out” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[dycefic]

Have An Evil Day

No prompt this time, just a sequel to ‘Welcome To Evil-Mart’

Working at Evil-Mart is usually… well, it’s retail. It’s physically exhausting, you have to deal with a lot of idiots without being overtly rude, and your feet hurt. Even though the hours and pay are very good, the benefits are great, and our bosses treat us well compared to most retail employees, it’s still not what I’d call a fun job.

But it’s not what I’d call dull, either. Especially not on days like today.

I was promoted to supervisor after the Food Poisoning Incident, so I have a little more authority and a little less obligation to be pleasant and I got issued a weighted cosh because sometimes Evil-Mart customers get… feisty. I’d never had to use it, though, because those who hadn’t seen what I did to Majority Rules, either in person or on one of the cell-phone videos that circulated afterwards, had at least heard about it.  They didn’t give me any trouble.

I was halfway through my shift, and the worst things that’d happened had been running out of croissants and a machine oil spill in Aisle Seven, when our greeter pressed the alarm button, which sent an alert to my handset. As front-end supervisor, that meant me, so I went over. Sam, who is unusual in the henching community for having actually aged out rather than ‘being retired’ jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, swaggering figure. “He just came in,” he whispered.

I did a full double-take before I took it in. Superdyne. Fucking Superdyne.

We’d all heard about his dramatic heel-turn a couple of months ago. The whole world had heard about it. Superdyne, who’d skated closer and closer to the line for years, had decided to cross it in a blaze of bloodshed. He was a villain now, he said. There’d been a whole speech about how ingratitude had driven him to it blah blah blah.

I work at Evil-Mart. I’m from a hench family. If someone becomes a supervillain because they hate Mondays or want to turn us all into dinosaurs or whatever, I don’t judge. I will sell depth-charges and laser guns to anyone who can prove they’re over eighteen without hesitation. But even we get kind of grossed out by the ‘I am forced to turn evil because I haven’t been given enough love’ thing. People who are actually so fucked up by emotional abuse or neglect or some superhero killing their family, we’re fine with them. But they don’t say that’s why they do it, and most of them need a lot of therapy to even realize it. People who actually say that’s why are entitled dickwads.

And now the dickwad had walked into Evil-Mart like he was entitled. Like he thought he was one of us.

“Lockdown protocols,” I told Sam quietly. “On my authorisation.” That takes a minute or two, though, so I went over to talk to Superdyne. “Sir, I have to ask how you even knew where to find this place.”

He smirked at me. “I have my ways,” he said smugly. He’d either bribed or beaten someone, that was my guess. “So this is where the villains shop? We all thought you went to Wal-Mart.” He laughed, like he thought it was clever.

“Yes, so you all say,” I said dryly. I didn’t feel like pretending he was the first person to make the bad joke. “My next question, sir, is what made you think it was a good idea to come in here.”

He spread his hands. “I’m one of you now!” he said happily. “I’m a bad guy! So now I guess I shop where the bad guys shop!” He looked around, frowning a little. “Although I was expecting more weapons and explosives. A… more villainous atmosphere. I didn’t know Evil-Mart had fresh produce.”

“I don’t advise buying herbs here unless you’re a magical practitioner. Some of them have… unusual effects.” A lot of our produce is normal stuff, but some of it not only isn’t legal, it doesn’t exist anywhere else.

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. But the bright lights and the bakery?”

“We have excellent gluten-free breads. In many ways, Superdyne, this is just another store. We have sales, we mark down the breads in the afternoon, we even have a PA system.” I pulled out my handset, and thumbed the button that tied it to the PA. “Attention, shoppers,” I said in my most soothing Customer Service voice, which made him grin. “Evil-Mart wishes to inform you – “ The countdown on my handset reached zero, and I turned to look at the entrance as a huge blast door thudded down. That was the last part of the sequence – staff outside the area were already in lockdown and security were on their way. I smiled, and continued almost without a pause. “- That we are in lockdown at this time, due to the presence of Superdyne in the store. Please remain calm, and be advised that security are on their way to deal with the problem. If you have a personal grudge that you wish to address with Superdyne at this time, he is standing near Register Six with a stupid expression on his face.”

He was staring at me, stunned. “But… but…” he stammered, and damned if he didn’t look puzzled. “But I’m one of you now!”

“No,” I said flatly. “You were always evil, that’s true, but you’ll never be one of us. And for the record, I’m one of the people with a personal grudge. All those henchmen you’ve killed and maimed had families, asshole… and they all shop here.”

He swung at me, then, but I spent years in hench training. Even someone super-strong can be dodged, and once I slammed my cosh into his groin a few times his punches got a lot more aimless. Around then, Tiger Ty came over the register, claws out and snarling, and I figured I should stand out of the way.

About ten minutes later, I turned on the PA again. “Clean-up to Register Six,” I called, in the same special voice. “Category 7, class three. Shoppers, please be advised that lockdown is now lifted but Register Six will be closed until clean-up is completed.”

Hunter, who’d been working Register Six, came out from underneath it. He looked a little green. Well, he was still in his teens, this was probably his first fatal mobbing. “What’s Category 7?” he asked in a shaky voice. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“Biohazard.”

“Oh. Class three?”

“Send three people. He was a juicy one.” I stepped away from a spreading puddle of blood. “Run and get a couple of caution signs we can put around this mess.” I eyed it measuringly. “And one of those fifteen-gallon plastic tubs with a lid, I’ll damage it out.”

He eyed the mess. “Are you sure that’s big enough?”

“Yeah, the average human is only about seventeen gallons by volume, and I’m not going to put all the blood and mush in there, just the big pieces.”

He gulped. “Ah. Yes, ma’am.”

I called after him when he ran off. “One of the black tubs, not a clear one!” Which honestly should only be common sense, but you can’t count on a flustered teenager to have common sense.

We frown on killing customers at Evil-Mart, up to a point… but when a particularly murderous super-hero walks into our store, well, that’s something else. I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, though.

I had to chase off one of Doctor Malign’s minons and two members of the Genetic Reign before the clean-up crew arrived, both of whom urgently wanted samples. In the end I scraped a few pieces of liver and unidentified organ into two of the bags we use for possibly-contaminated money just to make them go away. (They’re good customers, and it was just going to go in the trash anyway.)

By the time the clean-up was done, all the big pieces were boxed up, and I’d finished the paperwork, my shift had been over for twenty minutes, and I’d been asked to come up to the boss’s office.

“Listen, I have no issues with how you handled the situation, I want you to know that.” Mr Trent leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. “It was quick, it was efficient, and… given your personal history with Superdyne, not to mention mine and that of half of our customer base… richly deserved.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. It came out too meek, and I cleared my throat and straightened up. It’s hard not to be intimidated by Mr Trent, when you’re in the same room with him. It’s not his fault, and he does his best, but even under the strictest control his fear-inducing powers tend to unsettle anyone who gets too close. We all know he’s not doing it on purpose and we try not to show our reactions. “Do you have any orders regarding the remains?”

“Doctor Order wants them.” He rubbed his chin. “Get someone from the pharmacy to prepare samples for him, please, including brain tissue. He’s our primary supplier, and we can’t offend him. As for the rest… as you know, I’m retired, and I don’t usually participate in the Endless War.” One of his hands dropped to his left thigh. His prosthetic leg is some of Doctor Order’s best work, but the injury that led to his retirement had been brutal even by our standards. “But this is different. Superdyne came here. To our place of safety. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

I nodded. “Do you want the remains dumped somewhere public? Some kind of dramatic display?”

“No. Something more direct.” He rubbed his chin again, then tapped the intercom on his desk. “Iris, please send up Miss Fedorova from Marketing and Mr Levy from the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir,” Iris responded, and he clicked off the intercom again.

“The three of you worked together very well, during the food poisoning incident,” he explained. “And I believe they can assist us in a satisfactory conclusion.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you should wait outside until they get here. I can tell I’m unsettling you.”

“Sir, I know you’re not – “

“Not doing it on purpose.” He sighed. “I do appreciate how hard you all work to make me feel… accepted, I really do. But I’m very annoyed right now, which makes control more difficult for me, so I think we’d both be more relaxed if you waited outside while I do my meditation exercises.”

I waited outside. When the three of us went into his office again, the miasma of low-level fear was definitely a bit lighter, and he smiled. “All right. Now, this conversation is going to be very confidential, and I will remind you all of the agreements you signed when you were employed.” We all chorused agreement, and he nodded. “Good. Now, this is very much a secret, even among Evil-Mart staff, but we do have a few online clients who are… ah… on the other side of the fence.”

Ms Fedorova blinked. “What?”

Knuckles sighed. “We ship to a few heroes,” he explained. “The ones who are… less homo than sapiens, if you get my drift.”

I didn’t, and from her expression Ms Fedorova didn’t either. Mr Trent spread his hands, drawing our eyes to his fingers. Which as a rule nobody looks at, because there’s fourteen of them, with four joints in each finger, and we know he’s self-conscious about it. “The less… purely human ones,” he said quietly. “One of the reasons I created Evil-Mart was to give those who can’t pass for human, like me, a place to be… people. To have dignity. So that the obligate carnivores weren’t reduced to living on pet-food or scavenging for scraps, so that those with complex metabolisms could get the supplements they need so that people who are still people, for all their outward differences, could shop in safety. There are a great many more monsters, demigods, abominations of science and other non-standard persons among our set than among the heroes, and I wanted to meet their needs, as well as selling weapons and Lair-away-from-home sets and so on.”

“And there are a few heroes who order from us for that reason,” Knuckles added. “The ones who can’t get medications to suit their metabolism, or need to eat things that you can’t get easily anywhere else.”

I nodded, because that much I understood. We have some very esoteric ‘dietary supplies’ that start with fresh, healthy, well-treated and disease-free prey animals frozen whole (from mouse up to calf and goat kept in stock, larger sizes by pre-order, halal and kosher certified where possible) and end with human blood (rejected blood bank stock mostly, we have an arrangement), and human flesh and organs (sourced from hospitals, morgues and crematoriums, guaranteed no murder, at least not by us). “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m surprised we ship to them, though.”

“Oh, they don’t know we know. It’s all assumed names and secret bank accounts.” Knuckles grinned. “But Mr Trent has all our online customers identified before we ship. And for the ones who don’t have any other options, well… we let it slide.”

“I can see why you don’t want that to get out.” Ms Fedorova tapped her chin. “What does this have to do with disposing of the body? I was planning to set up a really ghoulish display in a public place somewhere, I already have some sketches.” Marketing for Evil-Mart is… well, it includes more than designing our sale flyers.

“No. We’re going to deliver them to a hero… one of the ones who owes us… and make it very clear that just because someone decides to admit he’s a villain, that doesn’t make him one of us and it doesn’t entitle him to union services,” Mr Trent said flatly. “I want to make it crystal clear to all of them that a heel turn does not mean their sins are forgiven, or that we will accept them as anything other than a very brief amusement.”

Late that night – we were all on overtime, but it couldn’t be done in daylight – we wheeled a cart down the run-down hallway of a shoddy apartment building. “This is a terrible address for a hero,” Ms Fedorova muttered. “Are we sure he lives here?”

“I deliver here a couple of times a month.” Knuckles was pushing the cart. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Ms Fedorova cleared her throat, coughed once or twice, and suddenly her voice was deeper and her very faint Russian accent was as thick as pea soup. “This is intimidation tactic,” she said, grinning toothily. “Do not act surprised.”

I knocked on the door, but let Knuckles do the talking. “Delivery, Mr West,” he called, using the fake name the guy had been giving.

It worked… the door was unlocked and opened almost immediately. “I scheduled the order for next – “ the mark said, and then we were pushing inside, slamming the door behind us.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr… Dinoid, is it?” Ms Fedorova said, folding her arms. “Evil-Mart is knowing all along your real identity. But you are needing to eat, and we are not turning down regular business, so we make no trouble.”

Knuckles rolled his eyes behind her back at how much she was hamming it up, but I waved a hand. Let her have her fun. So Knuckles started unloading the boxes onto the table while she talked. “First, your Budget Bunny Box. Your favourite, da?” The next box, smaller, plunked down. “Two fresh chickens, halal certified, healthy and having lived good life, gift for good customer.” Knuckles dumped the plastic tub on the floor. “And mortal remains of Superdyne, with note.”

Dinoid was staring at us, but that made him shift into a combat stance, his long claws spread. “The… Superdyne’s dead? And in there?”

“Well. Most of him. The big pieces.” Ms Fedorova shrugged an impressively Russian shrug. I hadn’t even known that was a thing, but when she did it, it was obvious. “You must understand, when a mob tears a man apart, it is hard to find every little piece.”

“I’m pretty sure Doctor Malign and the Genetic Reign took off with doggy bags,” I said, as if I hadn’t handed them over myself. “And Doctor Order probably has some of him too, by now. So looking out for clones would be a good idea, I don’t know if that’s in the note.”

Insofar as that reptilian face could show readable expressions, he looked shocked. “Why on earth would… why? He changed sides? And why did you bring him to me?”

“We know your address, we know you don’t want to turn us in because we’re the only ones who can supply your meals, and our boss wanted us to make this very clear.” I indicated the note. Since Ms Fedorova was hamming up her Sexy Russian Supervillain act, and Knuckles was very obvious Muscle, I figured it was on me to be the Reasonable One. “He might have stopped being a hero, but that didn’t make him one of us. That didn’t make him acceptable to us. Our boss wants it made very clear that your failures shouldn’t expect to be accepted by us… or even spared by us.”

He shifted slowly, the tip of his tail twitching. “I… see. I understand why you would reject Superdyne. He was notorious for killing and maiming people on… your side. But I know other defectors have been accepted. Philomel, for example.”

“Philomel was child of villains. She is young, she is rebellious, she sides with heroes for a while.” Ms Fedorova shrugged. “Is understandable, da? The young do foolish things. She comes home, all is forgiven.”

He nodded slowly. “Tenebrous?”

“That story I don’t know.” Ms Fedorova glanced at me.

I nodded. “Tenebrous was just a kid. He was twelve when Varide recruited him. Nineteen when he broke with the guy. Varide put a kid into combat, left him with massive PTSD, then ditched him when he had a breakdown and went too far. Mx Frantique at least made sure he had a safe place to stay and some therapy.”

“It’s happened a few times.” Knuckles rested his elbows on the cart’s handles, his inhumanly big, strong hands dangling. “But there’s a process. A system. If someone’s sponsored by a villain in good standing, like Frantique sponsoring Tenbrous, they can be accepted. Nobody gets to just choose to join. Especially not a smug, entitled prick like Superdyne.”

Ms Fedorova suddenly leaned forward, scowling. “And why are you called Dinoid? You are not dinosaur. You are clearly monitor lizard. Golden monitor, I think.” She reached out and prodded his arm. “And not healthy, either. Look at colouration! You do not keep environment humid enough. Are having trouble with shedding, da?”

Now we were all staring at her. “You’re a lizard expert now?” Knuckles asked.

She shrugged. “What? Is hobby. Mamma’s little Varanus Acanthurus are pride and joy. Sadly, cannot keep larger monitors in city. Is unkind.”

Dinoid ran a hand over his head slowly. “Not many people realize,” he said slowly. “That’s why I order from you guys. I used to get frozen… food… from a pet supplier, but then I got contacted by someone who told me there was another option.”

“Is good thing. Those pet suppliers, they are rogues. They do not keep animals healthy, can get diseases or mites from those things.” Ms Fedorova sniffed. “I would never buy from them. My babies would get sick.”

He actually chuckled, then, seeming to relax a bit. “You’re not wrong. After… this happened… I got really sick a couple of times before I figured out what to eat, and where to get it. And even the reputable suppliers don’t always have the healthiest stock.” He opened his mouth wide, making a gagging noise. “You have no idea how bad that ‘reptile food’ is. Eating whole animals may be a little disgusting, but it’s nothing to some of that stuff.”

“I believe it,” I said emphatically. “There’s a reason Evil-Mart has such an extensive pet-food line. The horror stories we hear from some of our customers… well, you’d believe it, I bet, but most humans just look confused.”

Knuckles nodded, and spread his hands. “People who can’t pass for regular humans… or even for people, the way most normies see it… are a lot more common on our side of the fence than yours. That’s why we delivered to you. We figured you really needed it.”

“Does he order from the pharmacy?” Ms Fedorova was around behind him now, examining his back. “He is having calcium deficiency, am betting. He needs nutritional supplement.”

“I take a nutritional supplement,” he said defensively.

“The one for normal-sized lizards is not enough for man-sized monitor/human hybrid,” she said firmly. “Check pharmacy section next time. We are having excellent selection of supplements for hybrids, and chart to tell you how much to take for body-mass.”

He looked back and forth between the three of us. “You people are… not what I would have expected from an evil supermarket.”

“We may be… morally challenged,” I said, shrugging, “but we’re not heartless.” I looked around his tiny, shabby apartment. “Unlike some of your lot. I thought you were on a team. Why are you living here?”

He ducked his head. “I couldn’t live at the base,” he said, his tail drooping. “My… I made people uncomfortable. And the stipend isn’t much.”

“Isn’t much? With the merchandising deals they have?” Ms Fedorova sounded shocked, and the accent had dropped back a lot. “I know for a fact that if the accountants ever got hold of their books they’d owe more in back taxes than… well, than Evil-Mart would if our illegal product arm ever got discovered. And we pay our taxes on the legitimate stuff scrupulously.”

Dinoid blinked rapidly, though I couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised by her suddenly dropping her act or the idea that Evil-Mart pays taxes. “You do?”

“Of course. Not under that name, of course, there’s a shell company.” She sniffed. “All villains do. Al Capone, you know. We’re not getting caught that way again.”

Knuckles and I both nodded when he looked at us, and he shook his head. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”

“It does.” I looked around again. The place really was crappy. “I know it’s a personal question, Mr… West, but under the circumstances I’d like to know… how much is that stipend?”

He looked down at the floor for a while, then cleared his throat. “Uh. $1100 a month.”

We all stared at him. Ms Fedorova’s mouth fell open. Knuckles looked shocked, and I was horrified. “$1100 a month?!” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. “For risking your life on a superhero team?! I have teenaged cashiers working part-time who make more than that!”

He looked almost as startled as we did. “For working a cash register?!”

“Evil-Mart pays pretty good.” Knuckles shrugged. “But that stipend is disgusting.”

“You are being exploited,” Ms Fedorova said, sounding really aghast. “That is terrible. Why, baseline henchman pay is twice that, and there are danger bonuses and…” Her voice dropped suddenly. “You don’t have a union, do you?”

“A union? Of course we don’t have a…” He trailed off. “You mean you do?”

“Of course we do. An extremely well-armed one.” Ms Fedorova folded her arms. “Henchmen And Allied Industries has represented us for generations. The last time a supervillain executed a union henchman for failure, he was boiled in oil… literally. On camera. Oh, of course some of the less reputable villains just pick up small-time trash from the streets, untrained rabble from the gangs and so on, so they can treat them as disposable, but we union members are skilled workers, with rights and protections. I bet you don’t even get overtime.”

“Of course not. Crime happens when it happens, and we have to…” He trailed off. “You guys get overtime?”

“We’re getting double time and a half for this conversation. And an extra day off.”

His eyes widened again. “Really? Wow, that’s… even when I was working a regular job, before this, I didn’t get pay like that.” He looked down at his hands and bared his teeth in what looked like an unhappy expression. “And now I can’t work anything but this kind of job. People don’t like having a scary dinosaur in their restaurant.”

There was a long pause.

“You can cook?” Ms Fedorova asked carefully.

“Yeah. I worked in my parents’ restaurant before… this.” He gestured at himself. “They were killed when we were attacked, and I was… changed.”

We all looked at each other. “After you’ve returned Superdyne’s remains to whoever you consider appropriate,” I said, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down my number, “I’d like you to give me a call. Evil-Mart is always hiring in the bakery and deli, and I mean always. Most bad guys aren’t great cooks. We don’t know why, it just seems to be one of those things.”

“You want me to join the bad guys?”

“I want you to work in a bakery. Villains and henchmen need to eat, and so do their families. Nobody’s going to ask you to rip superheroes in half, just maybe make a sandwich that won’t give anyone food poisoning.”

“That’s a regular concern?”

“Six months ago the three of us ran Evil-Mart’s physical store completely unassisted for most of a day because the only people who weren’t down with food poisoning were the ones who’d had the vegetarian and kosher meals.” I shuddered at the recollection. “Trust me. Someone who can cater staff functions without a major disaster would never have to live in an apartment like this working for us.”

“And we get full benefits, including dental.” Knuckles was shaking his head. “I bet you don’t even get hospital.”

“What hospital would take me? I always figured I’d go to the zoo and talk to the vet if – “

Ms Fedorova actually put her arms around him. “You,” she told him firmly, “are going to resign your terrible exploitative job, and then I will personally sponsor you to the union immediately. I have a spare room. You will like it. Humidity and temperature can be set just how you like, and Mamma Yelena will take you to real doctor expert in health of hybrids.”

“Those exist?” he asked, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

“Yeah, the Genetic Reign has like three of them,” I said sympathetically. “Listen, you can take some time to think it over, but you don’t have to put up with this kind of exploitation just because you don’t look human. Nearly a third of Evil-Mart’s staff can’t pass, and they’re treated just like everyone else.”

Superdyne’s dramatic demise got a lot of news coverage. Apparently it came as a real shock to the ‘good guys’ that there were some monsters even the superest villains wouldn’t embrace.

Dinoid no longer exists. Ismail Jameel works at Evil-Mart, and has expanded our fresh food lines a lot already. He’s a nice guy, and after Ms Fedorova told everyone how disgustingly he’d been exploited by those so-called ‘heroes’, he was welcomed with open arms. Literally, in at least one case – he’s dating someone from the warehouse, I’ve heard, though I don’t know who. He says we should rename the store, because we suck at being evil.

But evil is a really relative term. It can mean the blackest depravity, or a moment of viciousness, or even just ‘people on the other side’. Evil-Mart is called that because everyone, at least everyone on our side, is welcome. Plus, we all think it’s funny that the least-evil megacorporation is called ‘Evil-Mart’. What can we say? Bad guys have a sense of humour too.

Have an evil day!