#In Store Inventory Management Market

[namastenetindia]

Welcome to NamasteNet: Your Trusted Partner in Web Design and POS Software Solutions

At NamasteNet, we believe in the power of digital transformation for businesses of all sizes. Located in the heart of Hyderabad, we specialize in providing affordable web design and POS software solutions tailored specifically for Indian startups and small businesses.

Affordable Web Design That Elevates Your Business

NamasteNet offers custom website design services starting at just ₹4,999, making high-quality web design accessible to all. We don’t just build websites—we create digital experiences that reflect your brand's unique identity. Whether you're an emerging startup or an established business, our team ensures that your online presence stands out and delivers a seamless experience across all devices.

With a focus on responsive web design, we ensure that your website looks stunning whether viewed on a desktop, tablet, or smartphone. In today's mobile-first world, responsive design isn't just a feature—it's a necessity. And with our SEO-optimized websites, your business will not only look great but also rank higher in search engine results, driving organic traffic to your site.

Revolutionary POS Software to Streamline Your Operations

NamasteNet offers POS software starting at just ₹3,999, designed to streamline sales processes, enhance inventory management, and provide real-time business insights. Our cloud-based POS solutions are built to help retail stores, restaurants, and pharmacies run efficiently, without the hassle of paperwork or manual tracking.

Whether you’re a retailer in need of a reliable retail POS system or a restaurant seeking to improve customer service with a restaurant POS solution, NamasteNet’s software provides easy-to-use interfaces and robust functionality. With features like real-time sales tracking and inventory management, our POS systems will save you time and boost your bottom line.

Why NamasteNet?

NamasteNet prides itself on delivering Made-in-India solutions under the Digital India initiative. Our local expertise and understanding of the Indian market allow us to craft products that are not only affordable but highly effective for Indian businesses. We’re committed to supporting the growth of businesses with our affordable digital solutions that cater specifically to their needs.

Your Success is Our Success

We don’t just stop at providing the technology. The NamasteNet team is dedicated to offering unparalleled customer support and assistance every step of the way. Whether you need a complete digital overhaul or just a single service, we are here to help your business thrive in the digital age.

For businesses looking for an all-in-one solution to both their web design and POS software needs, NamasteNet is the partner you can trust. With affordable pricing and tailored solutions, we help businesses unlock their full digital potential.

Contact us today to learn more:

📞 +91 905 905 4355 📧 info@namastenet.com 🏢 16-11-220, East Prasanth Nagar, Moosarambagh, Hyderabad - 500036

[janitorhutcherson]

Marked Only for Me (Olderbf!Mike Schmidt NSFW)

hii!! okay, i have never written smut before, so i am begging you all to plz be patient with me! this is very long, so my apologies.this is a part of my olderbf!mike series, so hope u guys likeee. also, for this let's make the assumption mike went to college and all of that before his security jobs. he just had burn out and was there, hence why he's working for a major company with what would be little experience. anyways, lmk what u think!

summary: mike comes home and needs to blow off some steam

warnings: nudity, sex, name calling, hair pulling, choking, marking, possessiveness, an implied free use situation, fluff at the end!!

word count: 2,925

nsfw after the cut!!

You were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework in the home you shared with your boyfriend, Mike. You're 20, a couple of years into college, drudging through math problems that make your head feel like it's sitting inside a frying pan. You had to admit this wasn't your ideal way to relax after a 10-hour shift at the bookstore you helped run. Things had been hectic with Black Friday, your store doing a special sale where everything was 50% off, and bookworms were coming out of random corners to fill their already overflowing shelves for cheap. Of course, being younger, you were the one who had to do the grunt work, carrying piles of books to and from inventory, dealing with the more demanding customers as your older coworkers would tell you that they "just couldn't handle kids these days" and that it'd certainly be better for the younger one to do it. Luckily, though, Abby was at a friend's house, meaning you didn't have distractions. You were as focused as could be with a cup of coffee beside you, the sunlight that was once beaming through the cracks of the blinds now completely gone. You were focused, your brain functioning as much as it would with the problems. Things were quiet.

...That is until Mike stormed in. He was frustrated, angry, an invisible red-hot aura beaming off him. His hair was messier than it typically was. The softness in his eyes was instead replaced with a cold look. His eyebrows were furrowed together on his forehead, his jaw sharp and defined as he gritted his teeth. Although this wasn't common, it wasn't necessarily rare either. Mike worked for a publishing company as a marketing manager. He'd gotten the job after a few months of hard work to make up for the slack on his resume after working at the mall and the pizzeria. He moved up the ladder quickly, his company admiring his friendly attitude and his somewhat shy but personable behavior. He loved his job much more than his past ones. He felt happier, got more time off, was less stressed, and was definitely safer. Even with that being said, sometimes shit just pissed him off.

Today's big issue was a meeting with his marketing team, which also involved the big guy over his head. He felt like he was criticized, demeaned, dragged through the mud, and all in front of the team he was supposed to be respected by, listened to. On a typical day, this might not have pissed him off so much. He might've mentally plotted the demise of his boss, but he wouldn't have caused the outburst he did at work, and today had been particularly awful. He'd been late, burned his breakfast, knicked himself while shaving, and even gotten into what he considered to be a little fight with you the night before. Even though you'd both settled the argument, made up, and kissed before bed, he had been thinking about it all day. He'd then spilled coffee on his brand new tie, leaving a stain, and then... that happened. Mike snapped. He yelled at his boss, showing his ass in front of everyone, causing a meeting in his boss's office to end with an inevitable write-up. 

Now, he was home, trudging in all his bad energy, disrupting your study time. You couldn't even be frustrated with him, his demeanor proving he'd obviously had a bad day. You went to stand up to greet him with a hug, a kiss or two, but before you could, Mike stormed over to you, grabbing your arm harshly. You gasped, slightly thrown off by his sudden actions. He pulled you closer to him, his eyes locked on yours and his breath heavy against your neck.

"What the fuck, Mike?" you said, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his cold brown-green orbs.

"Listen to me," he grunted, his voice low and gravely. "I have had a very, very bad day, and I need you to be a good girl for me, okay? I don't want no shit, no back talk, you'll listen to what I say.. do you understand?" 

His hand still gripped your arm, his fingernails digging into your skin. You could feel yourself starting to drip, your panties feeling damp against your skin as your body buzzed with excitement. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes locked on his as they clouded over with lust. Mike snapped his fingers in your face, looking at you from underneath his eyebrows. 

"Use your words," he demanded. 

"Yes sir, I understand," you stuttered out, your cheeks flushing red. Mike's face was now pleased, his entire demeanor softening a little. His hand stayed wrapped around your arm as he tugged you into the living room, pushing you roughly onto the couch. You huffed from the impact, your eyes widening as Mike dropped to his knees before you. He slid your sweatpants off, prying your knees open to reveal your see-through pink panties soaked beyond belief. His eyes were hungry, his mouth open, almost drooling as he looked directly into your eyes. 

"All for me, babydoll?" he teased, his hand sliding in between your legs as he drew small circles around your clothed clit. You nodded your head as a whimper escaped your lips, the aching in between your legs only growing worse.

"What did I tell you?" he said, his words sharp as he smacked the inside of your thigh.

"Yes sir," you corrected, your words wavering after the impact from his hand. Mike nodded, satisfied with your answer, as he slowly slid your panties down your thighs, wasting no time. You gasped once again as the cold air hit your wet cunt. Mike exhaled sharply, taking a moment to admire you in front of him. His eyes trailed up to your pathetic look, your already-glazed-over eyes, down to your barely clothed chest, only a sports bra covering your breasts he loved so much, then down to in between your legs, where you were so wet, and all just for him. His lips trailed up to your tummy, sucking on the skin in different areas, from above your abdomen all the way up to right below where your sports bra stayed, purple marks forming.

He then dove in without hesitation, his large hands gripping your sides as he leaned in, moving one hand to take his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips. His mouth instantly attached to your clit. You yelped as you bucked your hips forward, his lips meeting the sensitive area. Mike pinched your thigh, a sign to quiet down until he said to do otherwise, two of his fingers reaching out to be shoved into your mouth.

“Suck,” he demanded, his fingers going as far back down your throat as they could. You did what you were told, sucking on his fingers and drawing your own circles with your tongue. His tongue drew tiny and slow circles against the set of nerves, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair from desperation. God, he loved eating you out. The way you yelped, quivered, shook underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair to keep yourself from going over the edge. He fucking loved it, you were the perfect cure to his anger, calming, something he could take it out on in a productive way that made everyone feel good. Your whines were suppressed as you bit your lip, your teeth digging into the softer skin. Mike pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once again as he admired your face, your now swollen lips.

“You know what, baby? Be as loud as you want for me now, princess,” he mumbled, going back to attacking your wet cunt. Slurping sounds filled the living room mixed with your moans and whimpers as his tongue slid up and down your slit, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck as hard as possible when his tongue wasn’t fucking inside of you. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His cock was rock hard inside of his work pants, his own face flustered as he rocked back and forth against himself. His tongue continued to lap at your clit as he slid two of his large fingers in and out of you, your walls clenching around them. You could feel yourself drawing close and Mike could tell. Your thighs attempted to clench around his head, but before they could his calloused hands pried them open, holding them apart. Just as your eyes began to clamp shut, your thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach started to untie, Mike pulled away. You gasped as he slipped his fingers out, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at him with an angry glare. He chuckled as he stood up, raising his eyebrows up and down as he leaned down, his hand lifting your chin up.

“Poor baby, was all ready to finish for me, hm? You were gonna be ‘Mikey’s little slut,’ weren’t you? That’s what you tell me you are, right? My little slut?” he teased, no remorse behind his eyes. You huffed, punching his arm before crossing your arm, too out of it to say anything from the knot that remained in your stomach but too angry to take initiative.

“Awh, don’t be mad, princess,” he snickered, shaking his head as he leaned further down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You really think I’m done with you?”

With that being said, Mike pushing you back on the couch. His right hand held you down as his lift struggled to unbutton his pants. He pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles as he yanked his boxers off, his cock springing out. He stepped out of them, letting you go for a moment to unbutton his shirt before tossing it off as well. Mike then looked over to you, leaning forward, ripping your thin sports bra off of your chest, your breasts now exposed to him. He licked his lips, excitement overflowing his body. He crawled on top of you, attempting to make the two of you fit on the couch. His mouth attacked your nipples, biting and gnawing at your skin. His mouth moved up to your neck, sucking and prodding and biting until purple marks were left all around, ones you were all too aware would be impossible to hide later on. He moved down to your chest once again, marks all across your collarbone, your tits. Mike’s hands gripped onto your neck as he sat up, looking into your glossed over eyes. He pressed his lips to your ear, a soft kiss against your earlobe.

“’M about to fuck you so hard you see stars,” he said, his voice causing prickles to cover your skin. Then, without hesitation Mike slammed into you, his pace staggered. Your moans were as loud as could be, the sound of skin hitting against each other and the echoes of both of your voices filling the living room. His thrusts were sloppy as he felt himself starting to get close to the edge, his hands pushing your hips down and into the couch. Your entire body sunk into the cushions as he used everything in him, his cock abusing your poor cunt. You swore you saw stars until you felt his hand gently smack against your cheek, your eyes averting back to his gaze.

“You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you, princess,” he growled, his hand sliding up to your hair as he tugged. You grew close, clenching around his length, your thighs starting to shake. Your core was threatening to come undone.

“Fuck, Mikey, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimpered out, closing your eyes as your head leaned back against the side of the couch.

“Cum for me, baby,” Mike stated. You did as he demanded, finishing around his cock as your liquids gushed against him. His thrusts grew sloppier before he pulled out, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that baby? You did so good for me, listening to what I said, letting me use your pretty cunt,” he stated, his thumb caressing your cheek. He then resituated, pulling you off the couch, pushing you onto the ground. You were now in the same position he was in earlier, completely fucked out. Your lips were dull from exhaustion, your cheeks red and your hair knotted in certain areas. Mike’s cock was directly in front of you, his hand guiding for you to suck on him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, the tip of your tongue licking his slit. You worked your mouth down his length, licking the sides. Mike’s moans became frantic, desperate as your mouth worked its magic. His hand tangled in your hair as he pushed your head up and down, thrusting up into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, feels so good,” he grunted. With no warning, Mike pulled out, spilling his load all over your face. He twitched, his moans loud and low, your tongue stuck out to catch his cum. His body laid against the couch, feeling heavy as his head leaned against the back of his couch. A tired grin was on his lips as you also smiled up at him, licking yourself clean. Mike looked down at you, a chuckle releasing his lips. It was obvious all of the tension and anger was gone, as his once cold eyes were once again the soft loving brown they used to be. He looked at you with adoration, always amused by how gorgeous you were even after rigorous activity and getting your face painted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, picking you up bridal style as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring about his own load that was now on his face. He sat you down on the bathroom counter, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, running it under warm water. He started to wipe away all of the liquids covering your face, pressing kisses to your skin here and there, looking your body up and down as he admired all of the marks he left.

“You always know how to make me feel good and how to take care of me after,” you croaked out, your voice laced with exhaustion as you smiled. Mike smiled back at you, his hand tenderly touching your cheek before pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I love you, of course I want to make sure ‘m taking care of you,” he said softly. His lips once again pressed against yours. “Thank you for letting me… you know.. blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Of course, honey. I was worried, though. Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, leaning forward as you slid off of the counter, grabbing a new washcloth and beginning to wipe his face with it as well. Mike sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her with sad eyes.

“I just- I got into it pretty badly with my boss at work and got criticized, I felt like a wounded animal, like I had to fight. I’m so used to having to fight that I don’t know how to shut up and listen,” he mumbled. “It was so bad, Y/N, and I got written up after that awful day I had this morning… I just.. I don’t know. I do know I feel better now, and would feel even better if we cuddled for a bit and then went out for food?” he suggested, spilling his thoughts to you. You giggled, nodding your head as you reached up to press a kiss to him. You dragged him into your shared bedroom, the two of you cuddling up together under the blankets. You turned to your side, your eyes locked with his.

“I love you, Mike, so much. And I’m so, so unbelievably proud of you. Thank you, for always making me feel good too, for taking care of me, for being such a good brother to Abby, just… thank you,” you said softly. Mike looked back at you lovingly, his appreciation for you apparent.

“I love you, princess, you don’t even know how much,” he mumbled. His eyes were heavy. He leaned over and set an alarm for an hour from now, the two of you planning on a night of dinner out and grocery shopping. He curled his arm around you lazily, your body limp and exhausted against his as you yawned.

“Oh, and baby?” he asked. You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Wear a crop top when we go out, I want everyone to see you all marked up.” You giggled as you laid your head down, drifting off to sleep.

When you two went out, you did just that, wearing a cropped scoop neck shirt with a low-rise flowy skirt. He showed off any marks you’d left, too, your possessive boyfriend holding you close anytime someone’s eyes linger too long. Mike was strange, possessive, and sometimes a little of what most would say was unsettling, but to you, he was the love of your life, the man who made you feel good, the one who fucked you until you couldn’t think. You loved him, and you always would, blessing you with a lifelong supply of angry sex and aftercare cuddles.

[thecreativecorner10]

How to Start Dropping Using TikTok

Drop shipping is a great way to start a business with or without  capital. It involves selling products online without actually stocking any inventory, meaning that when a customer places an order, you forward it to the manufacturer or a third party supplier who delivers the goods directly to your customer. TikTok is one of the fastest-growing social media platforms in the world. It has over 800…

[eosnox]

The Top Benefits of Crypto Investment

[vigilante-3073]

Fast Car

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: The three times that Sam watched Dean and Y/N sing along to one of their favorite country songs and the one time he didn't.

TW: Pre-established relationship, fluff, dancing, kissing, marriage and children.

Sam sat at a small table in the corner of the crowded country bar as he looked through news stories on his laptop. They had just finished a case in Oklahoma and Sam had the responsibility looking for their next hunt.

He looked up from his screen, eyes quickly finding his brother across the bar. Dean's hands were resting on his girlfriend's hips, holding her close as they sang along to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman.

"You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living."

Dean pulled away slightly, taking her hand and spinning her around with a wide smile. She laughed, leaning into him as he pulled her back in. Y/N had always loved country music and she had been slowly expanding Dean's musical inventory to include her favorite songs.

Fast Car had quickly become their song and they couldn't go on a road trip without playing it at least once. Sam couldn't bring himself to be annoyed because of how happy it made his brother.

How happy Y/N made his brother.

They were perfect together and there would always be a part of Sam that hoped to find a love like that again after he had lost Jess.

Dean's hands slid from her waist into the back pocket of her jeans as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

There was something almost sad about the song, it was something that he and Dean would probably never be able to experience.

A simple life.

Settling down and starting a family.

And Dean deserved it more than anyone in the world.

...

The impala sped down the highway, the music was blasting and the windows were rolled down. Sam sat in the backseat, staring out at the vast field that ran alongside the highway.

The summer air was hot and the roads were empty as they drove back to the bunker after a successful hunt.

Y/N was in the front seat, body turned towards Dean as they sung along to the song.

"So I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone."

Dean looked over at her, watching the wind blow her hair around as he drove. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her over to his side before his eyes returned the road ahead of them.

Sam watched them for a moment, smiling to himself as Dean drummed his hand against the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

Y/N turned her head, pressing a kiss to Dean's cheek. He smiled, thumb stroking across the material of her t-shirt fondly.

She rested her head down on his shoulder, hand resting on his knee as she listened to him sing along to the music.

...

Sam made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen after his run, glancing at his watch with a frown as he paused in the doorway.

Music was blaring from Y/N's speaker as her and Dean moved around the kitchen making breakfast. Y/N chopped up strawberries on a cutting board while Dean flipped a pancake in a pan with bacon crackling away on another burner.

Dean suddenly turned towards his girlfriend, using the spatula as a microphone as he sung to her.

"You got a fast car

We go cruising to entertain ourselves

You still ain't got a job

And I work in a market as a checkout girl

I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs."

Y/N smiled widely, abandoning the knife on the cutting board before singing the next line into the spatula. Dean reached out and grabbed her hand, spinning her around before pulling her back against his chest.

Y/N laughed, hand resting on his forearm as they swayed together. Dean spun her back around before releasing her with a wink.

He turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake before sliding over to his girlfriend and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. His hands found her hips before pulling her away from her cutting board and into his arms. Dean spun her around in his hold, taking her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist before guiding them in a few practiced steps. He held her close to himself, singing along loudly before pulling away and spinning her around.

Dean pulled her back against his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple before sweeping her back into their dance.

They glided around the room, he spun her a few more times before wrapping both of his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her's in a gentle kiss.

Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair before they reluctantly broke apart and returned to their tasks.

Their relationship almost seemed effortless to Sam.

It was almost like everything else faded away when they were together. It was the purest form of love that anyone could hope to find in this messed up world.

...

Dean turned off the television, tossing the remote aside with a sigh, "Nothin' on, buddy," He muttered, looking down at the Terrier mix who blinked up at him from the floor. Dean grabbed his phone from the coffee table, clicking the power button and feeling relieved when he didn't see any notifications on his screen.

Sam was supposed to come over for dinner to see some of the renovations that Dean had done on the new house. Dean still couldn't believe how many changes had occurred in the last few years.

Dean had made the decision to leave hunting behind and finally made a life for himself. Sam was finishing up a quick case a few states over before going into his own version of hunting retirement. They had both given so much of their lives to hunting and now it was time to live for themselves.

Dean looked over at the bookshelf, his eyes finding the stereo sitting between the books. Dean stood up, making his way over and turning on the power. He flipped through the channels, quickly turning up the volume when he heard the familiar tune start.

"No way," He muttered.

"So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

Is it fast enough so you can fly away?

You gotta make a decision

Leave tonight or live and die this way."

He straightened up with a smile, "Baby, c'mere for a minute," Dean called. Y/N made her way into the living room of their home with their daughter held against her side.

"Is that-?" "Yeah... I thought that maybe my two favorite girls would wanna dance," He said.

"Of course," Y/N smiled.

Dean carefully took their daughter from her arms, cradling her in the crook of his arm before holding out his hand.

Y/N rested her hand in his, gold wedding band catching the soft afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window.

She wrapped her arm around him, smiling down at their daughter as he guided them around the living room. Dean carefully spun his wife before drawing her back in, singing down to their daughter as they swayed together.

This was the life he had always wanted and now he had it.

His beautiful wife, his baby girl, his brother, a house and the dog.

Dean never would have thought this kind of life would be possible for him and now he couldn't dream of living any other way.

He had everything he could possibly want and he was finally happy.

[neiptune]

surreal, but nice

cw: 7k wc, female reader, strangers to lovers, osamu doesn't exactly know how to handle one of the most famous music artists in japan suddenly popping in onigiri miya, inspired by notting hill, my sappy entry for the romcom collab hosted by @bloompompom! thank you @yellow-sword-lily, this fic is also a little yours :)

Miya Osamu is a creature of habit.

He gets up fairly early, showers, never leaves the small apartment without fixing himself a nutritious breakfast, more or less knows and is therefore prepared to what to expect from each particular day.

Downstairs there’s his beloved shop, a dormant creature he gently stirs from sleep each morning. When he doesn’t have to head to the market to select and order the freshest products, Osamu starts the day by contacting all his suppliers and arranging the deliveries. He then checks the inventory, reviews reservations, welcomes the only other chef to discuss any special preparations or new experiments. It’s not unusual for him to check his emails, monitor the website and official social media of the shop, the one thing he actually hates doing because he knows damn well one negative comment will ruin his day, especially since there’s nothing he can do to rectify mistakes made days, sometimes weeks before.

He has a chef, one dishwasher, three servers, two food delivery drivers and that’s about it. Osamu Miya is the owner, manager, host, executive chef, server and cashier of onigiri Miya. He juggles management skills, culinary talent and business acumen just perfectly. He’s prepared and knows exactly what each day has in store for him.

Until you happen.

Osamu has been cooking for almost three hours by the time the shop officially opens at 11AM. It’s not unusual for new faces to come in from time to time, despite his clientele being more or less established, but it is rare to hear the little door chime ring so soon. Except if his dumb brother happens to be in town.

But you’re not his dumb brother. You’re a new and yet strangely familiar face, even hidden behind thick sunglasses and a beret that one could deem more appropriate to a parisian getaway rather than a Kansai one.

“Morning” you offer a little bow, hesitant by the door “you’re open, right?”

“Uh, sure” he smiles, still a little uncertain after a moment of astonishment “I don’t often have clients for breakfast. What can I get ya?”

“I’ve been told this is the best onigiri shop in town. I’ll let you decide”

You seem to consider your options for a moment, then decide to sit at the closest empty table. Osamu would usually provide more than a nod: he’d make conversation, ask questions. Forming bonds with whoever visits his shop and trusts his food is his favorite part of the day, as well as a great activity to engage in while his hands are busy putting the rice into molds.

“Close that mouth” is the only thing he utters under his breath, glancing at the server who set your table “yer catching flies”

“But it’s her!” Hiro squeaks as silently as humanly possible “I’m gonna ask for an autograph”

“You will do no such thing”

“We could hang it in the shop!”

“Go help in the kitchen, Minato called in sick today. I’ll handle this”

Hiro disappears behind closed doors but only after batting his freakishly long lashes to his boss, a heartbreaking disappointed look on his face.

Osamu takes a deep breath and squeezes the molds together, an action executed as gently as possible to keep the fluffy texture that makes his onigiri the best in town.

He knows you, of course he knows you. Not only your face was on any available surface for the entirety of the previous summer (posters, billboards, magazine covers to advertise your first ever concert in the Koshien stadium), he’s also pretty sure in high school Atsumu had perpetually ruined the walls of their shared room with some crappy adhesive squares used to hang your poster.

Osamu is not really a dedicated listener, he knows a couple of your most famous songs and that your success is damn near planetary. You have a house in Tokyo but spend most of the year in America, California if he recalls correctly, and you tour across Europe as well. Yet, it’s been easy to pick what to serve you. The gourmet options such as salmon roe or roast beef are off the table: they don’t make new clients feel special. What new clients need is a taste of authenticity, something that reminds them of home, and don’t you look just like the kind of person who could use some of that?

Osamu decides on pickled plum, tuna mayo and bonito flakes. One serving usually consists of three onigiri but he can’t resist adding an extra treat for you, a tenmusu onigiri. He’s recently perfected the recipe with an egg-free tempura batter that is still thick enough to absorb his special sauce.

He hopes it’s not creepy that he lingers by your table after he brings your meal: celebrity or not, you’re a new client. And Osamu can’t resist observing the wander taking over customers who are unfamiliar with his kitchen, as soon as they take the first bite. He hopes you are no exception.

“If this is an onigiri” you lock eyes with him and smile, glorious, radiant “what the hell have I been eating until now?”

“Probably not the best in town” he grins, proud, a slight blush already coating his cheeks. Damn it, he’s tempted to turn the baseball cap once more, let the brim shield his awkwardness. But that would be totally lame.

“Is it a family business?”

“No. It’s just… mine”

You hum, busy chewing on another bite. Then you swallow and ask another question, invite him to sit eventually, then apologize because he’s probably busy (he is) and has things to do (he does) but this is never going to happen again for Osamu, because he’s not Atsumu. And so he sits and makes conversation like a normal human being that definitely isn’t obsessively dwelling on how beautiful you are, how different your voice sounds when you’re not singing, how much he’d hate for a client to come in and pop that bubble. Which is exactly what happens and he doesn’t like it one bit how you interrupt your chuckle, lower your head, hunch your shoulders in an attempt to hide. He doesn’t like that he has to excuse himself, call Hiro back form the kitchen, make conversation with Suzuki-san, listen while he describes all his latest hospital visits in horrifying detail.

You look at him from time to time, the quiet shop owner suddenly turned chatty sparks your curiosity. He’s skilled with his hands and genuinely interested in what the person who must be an habitué has to say. He’s attractive, too. Especially as he tries to disguise the occasional glances directed your way or the disappointment that flashes in his eyes when you get up and start collecting your things.

“Can I get the check, please?” you approach the counter, pretend not to notice his hesitation. Osamu decides against indulging in the “it’s on the house” cliche, opts for treating you as any other client. With the exception of a small discount you won’t even notice.

“That was the best breakfast I had in a while” you collect the receipt and put in your pocket.

“You should come back, then. To have another” Osamu cringes internally as soon as the words leave his mouth and Suzuki-san’s chuckle makes him want to dig a hole to disappear into. But you smile, despite probably having heard the corny line a million other times, and tell him that you just might.

It would’ve been perfect: a beautiful ending to a glorious encounter. It could’ve been. If only you didn’t turn around so abruptly, a small shriek echoing across the shop as you came face to face with Mai, the sudden sound and panic causing her to jump and spill the fresh iced tea from the jug in her hand all over your painfully clean, crisp, starched, white button down.

You both freeze, your mouth open in a silent scream, an horrified look in Mai’s eyes that would’ve been comical on literally any other occasion. Osamu wishes he would’ve went with the “it’s on the house” cliche.

“Oh my god! Oh god! It’s you! I mean, I’m sorry!” Mai’s voice comes out an octave too high “my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, this is great” you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and attempt to dab the mess on your shirt “I have a meeting in half an hour!”

“Please, take my uniform! I will pay for the dry cleaning!”

“Actually” Osamu chimes in as politely as possible, trying his best not to let his anxiety get the best of him “don’t take this the wrong way but, uh, I live upstairs. You can get cleaned up and…”

“You’re kidding, right?” your astonished look is almost glacial. It makes him falter just slightly.

“Or ya can leave with a giant orange stain on yer wet, probably uncomfortably cold shirt?”

“Miya-san!” Mai’s hiss and your shocked expression make him think that sarcasm probably wasn’t a good idea. Osamu sighs.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. These are the keys, you can go on your own, I promise the bathroom’s clean”

You eye him for a few seconds more, then decide against grabbing the keys from his hand.

“I’m gonna need a change of clothes”

Osamu blinks a couple times, dumbfounded. His clothes? You’re asking to wear… his clothes?

“Sure! Yeah, sure. Come on” now his voice sounds uncharacteristically squeaky and he clears his throat as you follow him up the stairs, Suzuki-san’s good grief still ringing in his ears.

Thank god he cleaned the entire apartment just the day before. As much as he likes to brag about being the tidy twin, deep down he knows he’s just as messy as Atsumu.

Osamu tries hard not to look at you, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed while he rummages in his drawers in search of something that could fit you. He shortly wonders if it’d be a good idea to offer a complementary bento box to make up for the disaster Mai caused.

“I’m genuinely sorry” he starts rambling because the silence is unbearable and some of Atsumu’s genes really do take over sometimes “the worst incident we ever had at the shop was my brother almost choking on his dinner. I had to perform the heimlich maneuver, it wasn’t pretty” god, where the hell are this clean, not embarrassing shirts?

“Guess this one will go down in history” your voice is less sharp now, which relieves him.

“Oh, no. I will never tell anyone about this, ever. Mai and Suzuki-san will have to sign an nda. A proper, legally binding one”

The laugh you offer sounds weirdly intimate in the small space of his bedroom, it makes the tips of his ears hot. Finally, he’s able to dig out a decent, basic shirt you accept by thanking him softly. When you lock yourself in the bathroom, Osamu rushes to the kitchen to tidy up the mess he’s left behind after that morning’s breakfast. No time to concentrate on how you’re actually, genuinely in his home, cleaning yourself in the same bathroom he showered in, without a shirt on.

No one’s ever going to believe him. Hell, he may not believe it himself by the end of the day.

“Hey” he jumps at your voice, sudden and closer than expected. You look good in his basic shirt, it suits you somehow. Did you shove your own in one of the bags you left by the door?

“Hey” Osamu says back and cringes for the millionth time “are ya hungry?”

You smile when he shuts his eyes for a second, right after the silly question leaves his mouth.

“Not hungry”

“Right. Of course. Thirsty? I have really good tea, from Shizuoka. And orange juice” he pauses for a second, then adds “or water”

Your smile grows, almost melts into a giggle. “Not thirsty either”

“Okay” he clears his throat “how about dessert? I made some mitarashi dango just yesterday”

“I have a meeting to attend”

“Oh. Sure, yeah, that makes sense” he wants to bash his head against the wall “I’ll walk you out. To downstairs” thank fuck ‘Tsumu isn’t there, he’d never let him live this down. Jesus.

You precede him to the door, gather your bags, then softly thank him for the shirt.

“Nice meeting you, Osamu” he nearly explodes when you say his name, no honorifics whatsoever. How do you even know? He hasn’t carried a name tag on his shirt for years.

“It was nice to meet you too” there’s no time to dwell on dumb, pointless questions “surreal, but nice”

He thinks if your smile could conjure waves, he’d gladly give up all the oxygen in his lungs and drown in them. Has someone ever looked as beautiful while smiling at him? He doesn’t think so. He can’t think. Not when you’re leaning closer, not when your arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck, not when you’re pressing your lips to his. Holy shit. You’re pressing your lips to his. And he’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone kiss. Osamu just freezes, like a marble statue, like a teenager who’s never touched a woman before. Right as he’s about to swallow the shock and fucking move, you’re already pulling away, eyes not leaving his despite the slight self-consciousness swarming in those irises.

And then you disappear, just like the dream he believed you were, all that’s left is an empty spot by the door and his heart slamming against a pathetically ill-equipped ribcage.

La Suite is one of the most luxurious hotels in the prefecture and Osamu feels out of place with the 30 onigiri order he’s carrying past a french restaurant and a traditional japanese one, all soft carpeting, dim lights and wide windows. So different from his.

He timidly explains that he’s there to deliver an order to a certain Bennet-san, who for some reason insisted he’d be the one bringing it to her hotel. They look at him funny but let him through and give the coordinates: top floor, superior double room. A woman meets him the second he steps out of the elevator and sternly asks him to follow her, a silly part of him wonders if he’s about to get murdered in one of the top 25 hotels in Japan. But then she knocks on a door right before swinging it open and he doesn’t even get to explain that he’s not supposed to get inside, she can take the bloody bag and he’ll be on his merry way, but once again Osamu fails to determine what the day holds in store for him.

Once more, it’s you. A less preppy version, one that seems so small in such a gigantic room, the sea breeze blowing from the terrace gracefully lifting up the hem of a tennis skirt you immediately fight to keep down as you promptly get up from the couch.

“Hi” he says, so dumbfounded he barely notices the door closing behind him.

“Miya-san” you bow, keep your eyes down, no sign of a smile he could by now deem familiar “I’m sorry for the trouble, I know the hotel is pretty far from the restaurant and you must be busy. This will only take a second”

Osamu’s brows furrow, confusion evident in the way he cocks his head. You don’t catch it, because your eyes are glued to the floor. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me”

His eyes soften as part of the tension leaves his shoulders. Truth is, Osamu is glad you’re apologizing: despite how beautiful and dreamy you may be, life is not quite a movie and he doesn’t exactly appreciate being blindsided by a stranger. He doesn’t really understand what made you think kissing him would be a good idea (was his awkardness interpreted the wrong way? Did his stare linger on your smile a second too long?) but he’s certain you meant no harm. A shitty person certainly wouldn’t take time out of her day to leave an autograph on a napkin, especially right after half a jug of iced tea was spilled on her shirt just minutes before. To Hiro, with love.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can ya look at me?”

You meet his gaze hesitantly, mouth a thin line of harsh disapproval directed at yourself. For a second, you remind him of someone and he almost breaks into a smile.

“Thank you for apologizing. We’re good”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” he chuckles “you didn’t have to place such a big order”

You blink twice, then start nervously fiddling with your fingers “ah, actually I didn’t do it to… well, those onigiris are just really good. I wanted to take some extra ones with me”

“You’re leaving?” he doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially not while you’re so intentionally keeping your distance.

“Kinda. My record label rented a house in the countryside, I’ll spend most of the summer locked in, trying to finish my new album. I couldn’t do it in America, I missed being home but didn’t want to endure Tokyo’s chaos so I ended up picking Hyogo. Sorry, you didn’t ask to know all that” you chuckle tensely “we leave tomorrow and I didn’t want to go without apologizing first. That’s all. You may go now”

Osamu hums. “I may go? As in I’m excused?” he laughs when your painfully stoic expression melts into sheer horror.

“No! Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You take yourself too seriously” he grins “I’m just messin’ with ya”

“That’s not very nice of you”

“Would you compare it to kissing a stranger out of the blue?”

“Oh god” you hide your overheated face in your hands “you said we’re good!”

“And we are” Osamu steps closer to gently place the bags still in his hands on the marble topped pedestal coffee table. It’s just fun to tease you, one of the many irritating habits he shares with his brother.

His brother. Osamu looks up, a risky desire taking shape in his head and threatening to spill over the tip of his tongue.

“I’m really sorry, Miya-san” you repeat and he doesn’t love that you’re now calling him that “uh, this is your shirt. Cleaned and ironed. Thank you for…”

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

You freeze, paper bag still in hand. “Uhm, nothing interesting”

“No packing?”

“My manager does that for me”

He chuckles. “Right. Chances you’d want to spend your last night in the city at an even less interesting birthday party?”

Osamu waits patiently while you weigh your options, recognizes the confusion in your hesitant stare but doesn’t quite understand why there’s a weary vibration to your voce when you accept, the slight disappointment that flashes across your features.

It’s only fair, you think as he parts from the room with a smile and the command to secure those onigiris in a fridge. If showing you off to his friends like some valuable conquest is the way he wants to even the score, you’re in no position to deny him. You’re the one at fault and you’ve been given a chance to make up for it by wearing the facade you wear best.

Then why does it feel so disheartening, this time?

When Shinsuke opens the door, he’s more surprised by your presence than the carefully wrapped gift in your hands. Not that he doubted Osamu: why send a message to the group chat telling everyone that a) he was bringing someone and b) they should’ve absolutely not behaved any differently than usual if not better (in bold), if he wasn’t actually going to show up with a plus one?

Still, a small part of him did wonder if Atsumu’s and Rintaro’s relentless teasing finally got the best of him. Shinsuke doesn’t think that his friend works too much or that he should start “looking around” before “his hair starts greying again only this once naturally”. He remembers Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother when he implied that at this rate he’s gonna have to tie the knot with the restaurant, only to then space out for most of the evening as everyone else found new topics to migrate toward.

In short, Shinsuke wondered if Osamu was going to come up with a last minute excuse to justify the empty spot next to him at the table. But it seems that spot is going to be taken after all, by you nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, Kita-san” you smile after Osamu introduces you by your name and nothing else, not a wink, not even a subtle hint or a reasonable explanation “happy birthday”

Shinsuke accepts the gift with a polite thank you and he’s almost made sure you could preserve a nice, normal memory of stepping foot into his house for the first time, of course failing to consider the Hinata factor.

“Thank god, Osamu, I’m so hungry- holy shit! Is her your gift? I only brought a cap that says farm hair don’t care!” there’s a strange but seemingly friendly redhead looking at you with eyes so wide you fear they might roll out of their sockets.

“Shoyo, any chance you checked the chat today?” Osamu smiles at him widely but Kita recognizes the tension at the corners.

“What? Of course not, I was busy picking a cute gift” Hinata smiles too but his excitement is genuine “hello, nice to meet you! Please come in, you can help us set the table!”

You chuckle and meet Osamu’s horrified eyes for a second, his posture relaxes as your gentle reassurance puts him at ease. I’ll be in the other room, then. Leave it to Hinata to make a gigantic deal out of a special guest only to treat her as one of his buddies ten seconds later. You seemed comfortable, though, as one always feels whenever Shoyo happens to be around.

“Who is she?” Shinsuke doesn’t mean for his tone to be so conspiratorial but he keeps it low, just in case you might still hear them.

“A friend. Kinda. Ya wouldn’t believe me” Osamu takes his jacket off and hangs it by the door, then picks up the plethora of bags from the floor and makes his way into his friend’s kitchen.

“No, I mean… who is she? Why does Shoyo know her?” Shinsuke follows suit, intent on helping him distribute all the food he’s brought in the different plates he has prepared. Osamu shakes his initial surprise off with a chuckle.

“Only one of the most famous pop music artists in Japan”

Kita stills his movements for a second, then absorbs the new information with a simple nod. “Right. And you met her at the shop”

“How d’ya know?”

“Where else would you be meeting a pop music artist?”

“Don’t make it sound so obvious” Osamu pulls a face and Shinsuke’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, she’s here. With you. Is it like… a date?”

“No” the peremptory answer comes embarrassingly fast “it’s her last night in the city, she’s here because she didn’t have anything better planned”

“But you invited her”

“Yes”

“Because you like her”

“I don’t-” Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands “it’s not like that. ‘Tsumu used to have a poster of her face in our room, for fuck’s sake”

Kita hums. “So what you actually mean is it can’t be like that”

“I don’t see the difference”

“I do”

“Well-” a loud commotion Osamu has been trained for over two decades to instantly recognize as his brother’s voice, makes the words die in his throat. By the time him and Shinsuke return to the colorfully decorated living room (courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Hinata and one resigned Rintaro), Atsumu is already talking your ear off and seemingly invading your personal space multiple times as he follows you around the table you’re setting with Suna like a golden retriever on a sugar overload.

“Shoyo, you were supposed to keep her safe” Osamu glares at his brother and takes a mental note to scold Aran too, later. For snickering.

Hinata doesn’t get the chance to defend himself because of course Atsumu’s the only one who could outshine that intense excitement with his own.

“Samu! What the hell? If this is yer gift to Shin, what are ya plannin’ to get me exactly?”

“Can everyone stop assuming she’s here as a thing and not as a person?” it comes out harsher than intended and Osamu feels his face grow hot when all those present simply stare at him. When you stare at him.

Suna clears his throat.

“Cut him some slack, he came out of the bathroom and we could barely convince him she’s not a hallucination” you chuckle at that, which makes the ever stoic Rintaro look away with a faint blush blossoming on his pale cheeks.

“Wait” Atsumu looks at you, then at his brother and his brows become progressively furrowed “she’s here with you? As in, you invited her? And she said yes?”

Osamu wonders why he thought a simple admonishment in the group chat would be enough. He has half an idea of shoving an onigiri right into his brother’s loud mouth and not perform any maneuver whatsoever when the rice obstructs his airways.

“Actually, I wanted to come” you chime in so gently it takes a few moments for him to register the words “I’m leaving tomorrow and when Miya-san mentioned it was one of his friends’ birthday, I shamelessly asked if I could tag along. Hope I’m not a bother”

Kita is looking at you the same way Osamu is, puzzled. Hinata almost chokes on his coke and starts coughing profusely, so much that Aran has to lend him a napkin.

“A bother? No, of course not!” his nose might be on fire but by god, he physically cannot let you believe such nonsense for a second too long.

Atsumu’s mouth hangs wide open, brows still knit that make his expression overall hilarious “you make her call you Miya-san? Yikes, bro” he turns to you and makes a scene of slamming a hand on his chest “please, feel free to call me ‘Tsumu. I think we’re intimate enough by now”

“Given that we took five selfies and you made me sign my name on your abs, I also think we’re intimate enough” your grin seems genuine, which only startles Osamu more.

“Ya made her do what?” oh, there are probably not enough words in the japanese vocabulary for the way he’ll have to apologize at the end of the night.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind” you shrug “but if I could ask everyone a small favor…”

“Sure, anything!” Atsumu’s interruption only makes your smile grow wider “I’d really like to celebrate Kita-san’s birthday like you’d normally do. Please don’t make a big deal out of me, it’s his night after all”

“She’s asking not to be treated like a circus act” Aran whispers to Hinata, who blinks his big brown eyes in quiet understanding.

“Done!” Atsumu’s fist hits his chest right where the heart is as he solemnly declares “you’re one of the boys now, consider yourself a pal”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu” he tries to keep his composure but nearly implodes as you direct your attention to Shoyo “no, Hinata-san, this doesn’t mean we won’t be taking that picture I promised. Don’t worry” your wink is the prettiest, most wonderful thing he’s ever witnessed and thank fuck he’s done drinking that coke because his airways suddenly feel clogged.

Kita thinks this is already the most entertaining birthday he’s ever celebrated.

And celebrate his birthday you all do. Normally, as per your request. You sit between Rintaro and Osamu at dinner and masterfully divert the attention from yourself whenever the questions start piling up. The uno reverse technique works well: your curiosity feels flattering and everyone is happy to satisfy it. The questions you direct are extremely specific, your laugh echoes alongside everyone else’s and Osamu can’t help but think that, in some odd way, you fit in seamlessly. 

Keeping his eyes off of you isn’t but a strenuous fight with himself, it’d be lovely if looking would be the only activity he’d be allowed to engage in. It’s not hard to guess why hordes of fans and admirers are so enamoured: you’re such a natural. Polite, poised, funny, charismatic. Making you laugh feels like a privilege, having your brows raise in interest makes the story one’s recounting instantly fascinating. And yet you’re not doing any of that on purpose, he can tell. The one thing you’re being intentionally careful about is avoiding his gaze and making sure your arm doesn’t accidentally brush against his.

Osamu wants to ask himself why but also refuses to indulge in childish fantasies. What, he thought you liked him? Part of him believed you’d accepted to come to some stranger’s birthday party purely to spend an evening with him. Bullshit. Everyone in the world knows who you are and he simply owns an onigiri shop in Hyogo, one you happened to visit by sheer chance. He’s the guy you are so embarrassed to be seen with, you had to come up with a lie to justify your presence at the very same table that seems to adore you.

But when he jokingly throws a grain of rice at Aran, you hide your chuckle behind your hand. If he speaks, you always turn to look. Osamu doesn’t remember a social gathering where he tried to come up with just as many things to say, desperately conjuring genes that always weigh heavier in Atsumu. Unfortunately, the one person he could always count on, his dear friend and trusty supplier, decides his birthday night is the perfect occasion to stab him in the back.

“I’m sorry, I just need to ask” Kita refills your glass with fresh wine from across the table before retracting to his seat once more “your encounter with Osamu, how did it happen exactly?”

“Yeah, was his onigiri so good you wanted to-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo” Aran clears his throat as Suna, next to you, has a hard time swallowing his stir fry noodles.

“She heard my shop was the best in town, which it is, came to try it. That’s the story” Osamu wishes he could disappear into his kitchen as he often does when things at the restaurant get uncomfortable.

“I don’t buy it” Shinsuke shrugs “is that really the whole story?”

Kita’s knowing stare really hasn’t changed since high school and it seems you’re affected by it just as much as every other human. His eyes bore right into yours, trained to detect hesitation or even the hint of a lie, giving you no escape. Goddamn it, he’s still the team captain, there’s no running from him.

“Well” you gently swirl the glass in your hand, suddenly very much focused on the crimson liquid swooshing inside “I also kissed him”

This time someone does actually choke and, of course, it’s Atsumu. Right as Rintaro utters an ever quiet holy shit, he explodes in a coughing fit and Aran promptly strikes between his shoulder blades with the heel of his hand, perhaps with more force than needed. Thankfully, Atsumu manages to swallow his bite and, despite the tears threatening to run down his cheeks in all their shimmering glory, still conjures the energy needed to point an intimidating finger at his brother “ya bastard!”

“That’s a joke, right?” Hinata’s eyes have once again grown three sizes.

Kita doesn’t ask, the answer is written all over Osamu’s crimson red face. He was right, no one would’ve believed him.

“No, I really did” you take a sip from your glass and now everyone is looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. Except for Atsumu, who’s still glaring daggers at his brother.

“So this is… a date for you two?” Suna’s just as shocked as everyone else but seems to be the only person currently able to string words together.

“Oh, no” you brush the question off with a gracious wave of the hand “I just did it to thank him”

This time the silence stretches for a moment too long. Atsumu seems on the verge of passing out.

“You kissed him to thank him?” Kita cocks his head.

“Yeah. I mean, he was very kind. Have you never kissed someone to thank them?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so”

“Really?”

“Do you…” Aran hopes to the gods that the words don’t come out the wrong way “do that often?”

“Aran” as much as Osamu wishes the earth could swallow him whole, he doesn’t want you to think his friends may be implying something they’re really not.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s okay” you let our a nervous chuckle and because Osamu is sitting so close, he hears the shaky breath too “I know it was wrong. I tend to forget that’s not what normal people are used to. I apologized and now we’re good, right, Miya-san?” your eyes meet his and he feels his heart drop right into his stomach.

“Why are you used to that?” he asks instead of replying to your question and you just. Freeze.

“Yeah…” Hinata quietly chimes in “that doesn’t sound like something anyone should be used to”

For the first time, you don’t know how to respond. Osamu senses your panic, can read it in your eyes, but is too baffled to think of something smart or chivalrous to say.

“Holy shit, ya know what that means?” Atsumu slams both his hands on the table and both you and everyone else jump “it means she thinks I’m hot! In another life, I’d have a chance! Sorry, Shin, I know it’s yer birthday but I think this is the best night of my life!”

A quiet, astonished moment follows, then the table erupts in genuine laughter. You’re giggling so much you have to hold your stomach, Kita is shaking his head in resignation, Suna rolls his eyes with affection. Osamu settles for a smile as he relaxes against his chair once more. His brother may be loud and annoyingly inopportune, but his quiet support never once faltered throughout the years. One doesn’t need to be an old acquaintance to be taken under Miya Atsumu’s wing: if he senses as much as the hint of unease, his charismatic idiocy is summoned right away at the service of whoever may need it. Yet his loyalty remains unshakeable: Osamu knows that, in his stupid head, you’re already forbidden territory.

His mind is dizzy with confusion he doesn’t know how to properly address. As Kita blows out the candles on the cake he’s made, Osamu feels a wave of affection inundate his heart. He remembers that are nights like this that are worth being present, even if he has to get up at dawn or his sink is full of dirty dishes and he’s exhausted. Life only ever feels right when he’s with his friends or his family. It’s a routine he’s trained hard to get used to: work, work, work, carve out small moments to spend with those who come and go. It’s important for him to be there, when they come.

Osamu almost misses it, too focused on cleaning an extra plate or two in the kitchen, to make sure the birthday boy can get to relax once they leave. And then you call for him, a small crack in that poised facade of yours when his name almost slips out. You rush into the kitchen and urge him to hurry up, they’re already singing happy birthday to Kita-san. Come on, you’re missing it!

You probably wanted to go for his sleeve and found his hand instead, dragged him out of the room so quickly Osamu barely had the time to put the towel down. For some reason, once in the living room you don’t let go right away and neither does he. You only do so to clap with everyone else and even then it’s not entirely possible to establish who lets go first. Regardless, Osamu gives your hand a light squeeze and hopes you notice, despite there being no signs to indicate that.

You’re the first two people to excuse themselves: he refuses to let you go back to your hotel on your own, doesn’t give two shits that you have a driver or could well afford a cab because it’s a beautiful evening and Osamu is itching to have as little as ten minutes alone with you. He watches as you formally offer a hand to Suna and he grins as he shakes it, gently taking it in between his in a respectful attempt at suggesting that there’s no need to be so ceremonious.

You exchange quick hugs with everyone else, take the picture promised to Hinata, chuckle lightly when Atsumu timidly asks for a kiss on the cheek just because “it’s the american way of saying goodbye!” and of course you accomodate the request. Osamu is almost willing to bet you genuinely had fun but he also can’t seem to shake off the odd feeling suggesting you’ve somehow taken it upon yourself to just… appease everyone for the entire evening. Like some kind of duty. He doesn’t want you to think back to this evening like a task that had to be carried out.

“Oh my god, I cannot fucking believe it!” Atsumu’s shriek echoes loud and clear in the empty street  as soon as Kita shuts the door and you meet Osamu’s exasperated glare.

“I’m genuinely not sure what I should start apologizing for” he runs a hand through his brown hair and his stress makes you smile as you fall into a comfortable walking pace.

“I should start by thanking you for inviting me. Can’t remember the last time I had such a normal night”

“My friends are many things but I don’t know if they really fall into the normal category”

You laugh at that. “I think they’re really nice. It was fun. I didn’t know there were two of you”

Osamu grimaces, lightly shaking his head “good call, he’s the thing I should start apologizing for”

“I liked Atsumu” of course you did, don’t they all? “you’re lucky to have such good friends and a brother. Is it true what they say about weird connections us twinless mortals wouldn’t get?”

He sighs. As much as Osamu hates stereotypes and all the disadvantages that come with not being able to be his own person, the curse of always being considered nothing but part of a set, he knows the bond with Atsumu is just as rare and irreplaceable as people make it out to be.

“Well, I can pretty much always read his mind. But it’s not a twin thing, s’just an Atsumu thing” he shrugs “most transparent, honest person on earth”

“You’re both very kind” your observation strikes him. It hits the nail on the head: he does his best but it’s unusual for someone to notice ‘Tsumu’s selflessness right away.

“Could say the same about ya” he’s eager to direct the topic to the thing he’s really interested in, the one person who refused every bit of attention directed her way throughout the night “that tea collection must’ve costed a fortune. Shinsuke loves tea, yer manager picked well”

You hum, gaze focused on your feet. “Actually, I picked it”

Another thing Osamu has in common with his brother, the ability to royally fuck up in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, happens all the time”

“What happens?”

“People assuming things” you’re not mad, there’s just a sad vibration to your voice. If he could punch himself in the face, he would.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Osamu hates the smile you toss at him. He hates it so much he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and watches you turn around, confusion flashing in your disenchanted eyes.

“There’s a pretty cool park ‘round the corner. How about a detour? If you’re not too tired”

You hum in agreement, ask him to lead the way. Careful, Osamu, you’d like to say. This same polite regard is what got me in trouble the first time.

The park, which is more of a garden really, is a slice of eden in the jungle that any city inevitably ends up feeling like. Lowlands, an abundance of irregular but colorful flowerbeds that seem to glow in the dark, the warm air of the evening saturated with the sweet scent of lime trees, a gravel path you both follow all the way to a small, wooden playground. It’s only natural to gravitate toward the swings, relish in the comfort of the stillness the evening offers. It always feels like the earth rotates slower, pace decelerating to give you more time to enjoy the things it’s hard to appreciate during your hectic days.

Osamu approaches the swing like an old friend, takes hold of the chains with both hands. He lightly pushes off the ground with his feet while pulling back, giving you a perfect view of his perfect profile.

“I don’t want to assume” he says quietly “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yeah” you rest your head on the chain you’re holding, still looking at him who won’t look at you.

“Why did you tell ‘Tsumu you asked me to come tonight?” the actual question dies in his throat. Were you that embarrassed of being there with me?

“You seemed pretty self-conscious. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable” and I guess that way, you got to seem cooler.

Osamu almost chokes on his own spit from how surprised he is by your answer. What the fuck.

“I wasn’t-” not for the reason you seem to believe “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

You smile, patiently waiting for the moment where he’ll finally turn to meet your gaze instead of persistently staring at his feet. “I don’t think I ever felt that comfortable in a room filled with men”

“That shouldn’t be an exceptional occurrence”

“Right. But it is”

He spends a few moments trying to come up with the right words, a handful of seconds spent with part of his brain wishing he could have a talk with all the men who made you feel unsafe. How many? Where, why? Are they the reason why Osamu wants to get so desperately close and yet keep a respectful distance, not to scare you off, not to be another name added to the list of creeps you surely hate?

“Why did you kiss me?” those are far from being the right, considerate words he was trying to summon, but they bubble up from his throat before he can stop them.

You hum, pensive “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you’re gentle, I thought t’was what you expected to happen. It’s what men usually expect in return”

“In return for what?” he fights the urge to keep his eyes down, confident that the darkness will conceal the redness of his cheeks. You think he’s pretty and the first thing his dumb brain is able to link the revelation to, is Atsumu. Shit, he was right, this means you do find him attractive as well.

“Anything, really” your chuckle is devoid of actual humor “I know this night was supposed to make up for it but I didn’t expect to have so much fun. Regardless, I hope we’re even now”

Osamu furrows his brows.

“Ya think that’s why I invited ya?”

“Why else?”

He almost laughs, incredulous. You hide that mistrust really well, Osamu has to give it you. It feels unfair that life has given someone who seemingly has everything, so many reasons to think you can only be seen as an empty shell, some trophy with the sole purpose of being flaunted.

“You said you were leaving. I didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again”

“Really?” your lips curl into a small smile “the weird girl who jumped you on your first meeting?”

“You’re weird” he concedes “and selfless. Intelligent. Maybe jokes are not your forte but, hey, ya get to look like that” your laugh compliments his really well and Osamu can’t help but think he’d like to sit in a park, in the middle of the night, and talk and laugh and be with you just once more.

You briefly wonder if the man sitting so close to you is aware of just how devastatingly charming he is. Part of you wishes he’d want to take you out on a proper date, let you meet his friends on different occasions, include a weird stranger in such a well balanced life. Part of you also knows you’d never want to ruin that for him. Not for someone like Osamu. People who are unfortunate enough to stumble across you are almost always harassed away, it’s a life you’re used to and can’t bring yourself to run from. It’s who you are and, most importantly, all you have. It’d be too dangerous for your heart to desire anything different.

But he’s looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, land emerged from the sea millions of years ago for his eyes only to experience such a sight. No one’s ever looked at you with such wonder.

“I don’t want to assume” he holds your gaze locked to his, swing dangling lightly as he leans closer “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yes” you utter a little too breathlessly.

“Can I kiss ya?”

You hum in affirmation and close your eyes, heart beating a little faster than what you’re used to as you sense his proximity. He smells nice, radiates warmth and his soft hair tickles a little when his lips gently press to your cheek.

Osamu smiles when he catches a glimpse of disappointment flashing over your features, the first of many clues he wants to learn how to interpret correctly. The cracks in a facade he’d make his personal mission to tear down.

“I know you have to go away tomorrow” he gently moves a strand of hair away from your forehead “but I wondered, if you didn’t, whether you might let me see ya a little. Or a lot, maybe”

You lean into his touch, calloused fingertips still barely grazing your skin.

“A lot sounds good”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Greedflation, but for prisoners

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (Apr 21) in TORINO, then Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Today in "Capitalists Hate Capitalism" news: The Appeal has published the first-ever survey of national prison commissary prices, revealing just how badly the prison profiteer system gouges American's all-time, world-record-beating prison population:

https://theappeal.org/locked-in-priced-out-how-much-prison-commissary-prices/

Like every aspect of the prison contracting system, prison commissaries – the stores where prisoners are able to buy food, sundries, toiletries and other items – are dominated by private equity funds that have bought out all the smaller players. Private equity deals always involve gigantic amounts of debt (typically, the first thing PE companies do after acquiring a company is to borrow heavily against it and then pay themselves a hefty dividend).

The need to service this debt drives PE companies to cut quality, squeeze suppliers, and raise prices. That's why PE loves to buy up the kinds of businesses you must spend your money at: dialysis clinics, long-term care facilities, funeral homes, and prison services.

Prisoners, after all, are a literal captive market. Unlike capitalist ventures, which involve the risk that a customer will take their business elsewhere, prison commissary providers have the most airtight of monopolies over prisoners' shopping.

Not that prisoners have a lot of money to spend. The 13th Amendment specifically allows for the enslavement of convicted criminals, and so even though many prisoners are subject to forced labor, they aren't necessarily paid for it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

Six states ban paying prisoners anything. North Carolina caps prisoners' pay at one dollar per day. Nationally, prisoners earn $0.52/hour, while producing $11b/year in goods and services:

https://www.dollarsandsense.org/archives/2024/0324bowman.html

So there's a double cruelty to prison commissary price-gouging. Prisoners earn far less than any other kind of worker, and they pay vastly inflated prices for the necessities of life. There's also a triple cruelty: prisoners' families – deprived of an incarcerated breadwinner's earnings – are called upon to make up the difference for jacked up commissary prices out of their own strained finances.

So what does prison profiteering look like, in dollars and sense? Here's the first-of-its-kind database tracking the costs of food, hygiene items and religious items in 46 states:

https://theappeal.org/commissary-database/

Prisoners rely heavily on commissaries for food. Prisons serve spoiled, inedible food, and often there isn't enough to go around – prisoners who rely on the food provided by their institutions literally starve. This is worst in prisons where private equity funds have taken over the cafeteria, which is inevitable accompanied by swingeing cuts to food quality and portions:

https://theappeal.org/prison-food-virginia-fluvanna-correctional-center/

So you have one private equity fund starving prisoners, and another that's gouging them on food. Or sometimes it's the same company. Keefe Group, owned by HIG Capital, provides commissaries to prisons whose cafeterias are managed by other HIG Capital portfolio companies like Trinity Services Group. HIG also owns the prison health-care company Wellpath – so if they give you food poisoning, they get paid twice.

Wellpath delivers "grossly inadequate healthcare":

https://theappeal.org/massachusetts-prisons-wellpath-dentures-teeth/

And Trinity serves "meager portions of inedible food":

https://theappeal.org/clayton-county-jail-sheriff-election/

When prison commissaries gouge on food, no part of the inventory is spared, even the cheapest items. In Florida, a packet of ramen costs $1.06, 300% more inside the prison than it does at the Target down the street:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24444312-fl_doc_combined_commissary_lists#document/p6/a2444049

America's prisoners aren't just hungry, they're also hot. The climate emergency is sending temperatures in America's largely un-air-conditioned prisons soaring to dangerous levels. Commissaries capitalize on this, too: an 8" fan costs $40 in Delaware's Sussex Correctional Institution. In Georgia, that fan goes for $32 (but prisoners are not paid for their labor in Georgia pens). And in scorching Texas, the commissary raised the price of water by 50% last summer:

https://www.tpr.org/criminal-justice/2023-07-20/texas-charges-prisoners-50-more-for-water-for-as-heat-wave-continues

Toiletries are also sold at prices that would make an airport gift-shop blush. Need denture adhesive? That's $12.28 in an Idaho pen, triple the retail price. 15% of America's prisoners are over 55. The Keefe Group – sister company to the "grossly inadequate" healthcare company Wellpath – operates that commissary. In Oregon, the commissary charges a 200% markup on hearing-aid batteries. Vermont charges a 500% markup on reading glasses. Imagine spending decades in prison: toothless, blind, and deaf.

Then there's the religious items. Bibles and Christmas cards are surprisingly reasonable, but a Qaran will run you $26 in Vermont, where a Bible is a mere $4.55. Kufi caps – which cost $3 or less in the free world – go for $12 in Indiana prisons. A Virginia prisoner needs to work for 8 hours to earn enough to buy a commissary Ramadan card (you can buy a Christmas card after three hours' labor).

Prison price-gougers are finally facing a comeuppance. California's new BASIC Act caps prison commissary markups at 35% (California commissaries used to charge 63-200% markups):

https://theappeal.org/price-gouging-in-california-prisons-newsom-signature/

Last year, Nevada banned any markup on hygiene items:

https://www.leg.state.nv.us/App/NELIS/REL/82nd2023/Bill/10425/Overview

And prison tech monopolist Securus has been driven to the brink of bankruptcy, thanks to the activism of Worth Rises and its coalition partners:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/08/money-talks/

When someone tells you who they are, believe them the first time. Prisons show us how businesses would treat us if they could get away with it.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/20/captive-market/#locked-in

[hroscek]

🛒Dottore shopping headcanons🧾

"Wouldn't it be funny if Dottore went to a grocery store?" - me 2 minutes before I started writing this

Another incredibly silly concept from me, your humble Dottore content deliverer. Not really an AU, but definitely taking massive liberties when it comes to stretching canon. Probably quite ooc as well.

Warnings: mention of death

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Dottore hadn't gone shopping in ages, not since he joined the Fatui. He never liked people and their mundane activities, preferring to stay inside working on his latest project. Groceries and food preparation had been delegated to his staff and the occasional segment as a punishment so he never really saw a need to even think about it.

That changed when he was sent on a covert mission to a wealthy mansion in Fontaine. His job was to infiltrate the household of a prominent scholar who posed a risk of uncovering the operation in Sumeru. The best way to do so was under the guise of being part of the staff. When he was satisfied his appearance was adequately concealed Dottore signed up for the only position that was available in such short notice: the kitchen inventory assistant.

As his new manager explained his job would be to handle the shopping and delivering of ingredients needed by the cooks. In his endless confidence Dottore almost burst out laughing when he heard his duties. "A delivery boy? Me? The 2nd of the eleven Fatui harbingers? This will be too easy" he thought to himself. Oh how wrong he was.

On his first day he set out for the local market with a shopping list in hand, his mind preoccupied with plans of ending his employer. His contemplation was cut short by the sheer loudness of the crowded market. Children wailed for their parents to buy them sweets, merchants bargained over every last coin and groups of people engaged in lively conversation. Any other extrovert person would find the scene quite endearing, a truly fine display of the friendly culture of Fontaine. But this is Dottore we're talking about so his hatred grew every second he was forced to be there.

The first item on his list was fish for the main course of lunch. He gathered whatever patience was left and walked to the first fish stall. Seeing the glossy eyes of the fish in their dozens unnerved him, despite the centuries spent working with cadavers. He was about to point to a fish he deemed adequate when an older lady kindly pointed out it's eyes had gone cloudy (how he managed to find the only week old fish in a city surrounded by water is anyone's guess). He awkwardly thanked her and left in a hurry without buying a fish. He's sure the cooks will figure something out.

Next he headed for the vegetable stand to look for tomatoes. Without bothering to check for quality he started loading the bag as quickly as he could, hoping to get it over with as soon as he could. The seller, clocking the poor guy as a newbie quoted nearly triple the fair price and Dottore paid without questioning or even thinking to haggle (it's a tomato, how much could it cost? 500 mora?)

Almost done with the grocery run (and his patience) Dottore scanned the flower stands looking for Marcottes. He circled the market around 3 times before a amused shopkeep asked what he was looking for. "ᴹᵃʳᶜᵒᵗᵗᵉˢ." he answered, hoping that the earth beneath him sunk and got him out of this hellish situation (awkward social interaction). The seller giggled "Sorry, no one's selling marcottes this week. There's a supply chain issue with the florists on strike, haven't you heard?" Dottore turned and nearly ran in the other direction without a second word, completely forgetting the mint he was also supposed to buy.

Utterly humiliated Dottore decided to ditch any plans of infiltrating quietly and stormed to the manor, killing the scholar and his family. He'll let someone else figure out the coverup. And so he returned to his dim laboratory, vowing never to go shopping again.

Pantalone still makes fun of him for the tomatoes to this day.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Thanks for reading! Sorry for the lack of posts today, I'm working on a longer fanfiction so I haven't been able to focus on these shorter posts. Will try and finish it within the next day or so, but in the meanwhile enjoy whatever this is. Also you if you figure out what the dish he was shopping for was I'll write whatever topic of headcanon you want, just comment or send a message.

[bomberqueen17]

sewing other things

OK so. I have talked about the Loftus Bralette so much on here that one could be forgiven for chuckling gently when i said I should sew other things. But I do actually have several other projects I've been wanting to work on. And i have actually cut some of them out.

Also when I was last at the farm my niece brought me some of her t-shirts and said "I really like this one can we cut it apart and re-sew it bigger so I can still wear it", and I remembered that her BFF's mom, who works at the farm twice a week doing the books and managing store inventory, owns a serger she didn't know how to thread, so I texted her to ask if I could borrow it and indeed she had accidentally unthreaded it and there was a stuck lever and needed me to fix it anyway, and maybe I mentioned that on here but I did actually make my niece a couple of tunics while I was last at the farm. Including hand-sewing a whole bunch of details on the last one while the family was driving on a road trip one weekend.

So I brought all that stuff home with me and was hoping to get to work on it this week. All I've sewn has been the bralettes but I still have today. We'll see what I can get done.

I measured Farmkid and she's ten years old so her shape isn't the same as that of an adult woman, but she's five feet two and like 130 lbs, and some of her measurements put her in a women's size 12. So. She expressed interest in a garment I wear frequently, a Studio Tunic from Sew Liberated. I printed off the pattern in a size 12 and have assembled it, but I'm stuck deciding what fabric to use for her. I should decide that today. She's ten, her favorite color is ostensibly yellow but she mostly wears pinks and purples, she's a grubby kid who wipes her hands on her shirt and always winds up with stains on the belly of her shirt still, and she wants this tunic I think largely so she can cram her tablet into the pocket and go climb trees while listening to audiobooks on speaker. So I want a bright color but not too pale, and I want a tough fabric but not unbreathable, and I'm just. Deciding, still.

Probably what I should do is use some undyed fabric I own, and then bring my supplies and let her tie-dye it. I have a couple other things I could tie-dye, or will by then. That would be a fun bonding activity. I don't know if I'll have time to do it this trip though. So maybe I'll postpone the project and ask her for help once she's on summer break. (Good luck catching her, kids these days have so many summer camps.) As a bonus I bet I could loop her BFF and BFF's Mom in on the tie-dyeing, they're both into that shit.

Hell we could do ice-dyeing, the farm has a 1000-lb ice machine that is very frequently turned on (weekly for the market, biweekly for chicken processing-- there could be ice available at pretty much any time lol).

So anyway. I know she wants me to make a tunic out of a trio of large-print cat shirts she's outgrown, and she wants to wear it for her 5th grade moving up day ceremony, and I looked at it while I was home but I haven't done it yet. I need to get my shit together.

What I might do is print off a size 12 version of the t-shirt pattern I own, it's just that it's designed for busty women because I'm a busty woman, and she's Not, yet (oh, she will be. soon. but not yet.) so I have to kind of. Well, I own a pattern for a swing tunic that's close to what she wants actually. Oh, I should just print that one off. (The joy of the Cashmerette Club subscription patterns is that you get all the sizes, 0-30, and I've now made a couple of them for smaller friends, because like. I mean I own the pattern! PDF patterns are so great because you can reprint them in the smaller size instead of trying to trace it off. I never ever got the hang of tissue paper patterns.)

Yeah here this one, the Wexford Top/Dress, would be easy enough to kind of carve out the bust curve a little and make it fit a kid, because it's not meant to be that fitted. I'll just sort of use that as a general guideline and then make the cut-out-and-patchworked t-shirts fit into that approximate silhouette. The way I made the other tunics for her, I just used a shirt whose neck and shoulders still mostly fit her. But these cat shirts she's thoroughly outgrown, so making a new neck/shoulder area would be best.

Orrrrrr.... I could use one of the zillion old t-shirts of mine that I've saved to cut up. The neck/shoulders of a fully adult-sized garment are no longer too big for her. That's easier.

I also have a bunch of garments I want to make for myself, as I don't seem to buy clothes much anymore (I can't bring myself to pay $40 for a dress off the clearance rack that won't fit me and will mostly be polyester and won't be that interesting and will pill the first time I wash it). The Club's latest pattern is a skort/shorts/skirt dealie, and I need more shorts all the time-- I've largely given up on underpants and just wear boxer-briefs or anti-chafe shorts and I just don't see the point now of wearing a pair of panties and then shorts over the top under my skirt. Like. Just wear the shorts! So being able to choose the materials and print and look of that would be pretty great. And the Cashmerette one is inseam-less, like my favorite anti-chafe shorts are.

So I have cut out a pair of just the shorts in a clearance cotton mesh from Dharmatrading, and I even have the correct elastic for the waistband, so that kind of rules. I will sew those up as soon as I get a chance. I would like to make several skorts as well, probably from synthetic ponte or something, but my ideal would be to get some decent merino/nylon jersey and do a few from that. You never see merino skorts but I would wear the shit out of those.

I also have a lovely underpants pattern from the Club from ages ago, and while I rarely wear underpants of that style anymore, I would like having some cute matchy ones to go with the bralettes. Also, I have a shitton of foldover elastic, and I suspect I could use foldover elastic in some of the bralettes I want to make, so I want to get proficient in its use, and there are directions for applying it in the underpants directions, and it seems like a good way to practice. So I cut a muslin of those from the same cotton mesh as the shorts, and just have to sew the pieces together.

I also want to make myself more pretty dresses, and I have parts of a new Studio Tunic for myself already cut out, but not the rest.

And I recently made myself the button-up shirt from the Club, I know I posted about it on here. And I wanted to immediately make myself several more, and I got out some fabric and prepared it and cut out one pattern piece and then ran out of time. So yesterday I finally cut out the rest of the shirt from this fabric, a print from Mood covered in tiny dinosaurs. So I have that all ready to go in a plastic baggie too, just waiting for me to have time to sit and sew it. (Once I do that, I would really like to make myself a dress version of it from the cool green not-quite-seersucker I got from that remnant bolt at Promenade Fabrics in New Orleans.)

AND. i also have resolved to make my BFF, the one in Rochester who I lived with for a bit in the pandemic, with the little kids-- MM-- I am going to make her a sloper, before I see her next weekend, or maybe while I see her next weekend if i don't get to it in time argh, and I am going to at least try that on her and figure out approximately what shape she is so that I can put together a master pattern for her to make herself dresses from. I took her measurements ages ago, and she's a 14CD bust, a 16 waist, and an 8 hip in Cashmerette's sizing, and so I think just making a sloper with those sizes all graded together will be a huge start. And then we can mildly tweak the fit for her frame, and-- the thing is, she's always buying custom dresses on Etsy because what she wants is very specific and not usually available in stores, and then the dresses come and don't fit her so she has to get them tailored, and then they were just made of cheap quilting cotton from Joann's so they wear out after she washes them a few times, and she's had to add on pockets anyway because they didn't have them.

So I just feel like if I could get her a paper master pattern that fit her... heck i could even just make her dresses if *I* had the pattern. It would be easier and more efficient. I could do the basic construction and then turn over the pockets and embellishments to her, which is what she does anyway. So that's my goal there, and we'll see if I can reach it.

Anyway. If only I didn't have to work at all and could just sew all the time. I am not the first person to say this, LOL.

I have a lot of irons in the fire but at the moment am trapped under a cat so those irons are not going anywhere.

[thesoftboiledegg]

The mall closest to my place is still dying a slow death. When I visited yesterday, two more stores had closed--and they were major chains, not local retailers. Maybe Spencer's is single-handedly keeping this place alive.

Rue 21 had one new item: a single pair of sweatpants alone on a shelf.

One of the "nerdy" stores had a dice set featuring everyone's favorite pickle.

Spencer's had a single new mug. Now you can drink out of Rick's head!

The manager mentioned to me that new merchandise (in general, not specifically RM) was coming after they completed inventory on the 31st, so that might explain the lack of new products post-holiday season. We're also not getting season eight until next year, but that probably won't stop Adult Swim's marketing team.

Today, I decided to visit chain stores in an area that I don't normally visit. I walked into Five Below to see this near the doorway:

I've seen the monthly illustrations on another calendar, but that cover is new. And shiny ✨

Need a place to store your loose AirPods? Try this fashionable Rick and Morty case featuring Rick's boyish grin.

Time for a new store that I'd never visited, at least in adulthood: T. J. Maxx. I saw this hoodie ages ago in Journey's. Now it's back, in thrift store form! One of my favorite designs. 🌈

A visit from the Portal Boyz! Technically, Nick and Morty were the Portal Boyz, but I guess nobody wants Nick merchandise.

Afterward, I went to Target for the first time in a while. They had the Rick and Morty manga in stock. I actually didn't know it was a graphic novel--I thought it was just another issue of the comics.

Weirdly, they also had a shirt that Journey's used to carry. Pretty unusual for me to see the same item in two separate chains. Anyway, I guess nobody's tired of wearing a shirt that says, "I am in great pain, please help me."

Serendipitously, I spotted this on a car when I left. Fuck me for not buying anything, I guess.

One last stop: the nearby head shop. I have no idea what these things are, but Rick's trying out some new looks.

Roll some grass on this vinyl rolling tray.

Evil Morty finally gets his own pipe!

While you're at it, stock up on Rick and Morty vapes.

He's a happy Homer!

And they had no shortage of bootleg shirts and hoodies.

No season eight merchandising blitz this year, but smoke shops are always on it. It's never the wrong time to buy a T-shirt of Morty Smith getting blasted!

[adbros]

30 ways to make real; money from home

Making money online from the comfort of your home has become increasingly accessible with the growth of the internet and digital technologies. In 2023, there are numerous realistic ways to earn money online. Here are 30 ideas to get you started:

1. Freelance Writing: Offer your writing skills on platforms like Upwork or Freelancer to create blog posts, articles, or website content.

2. Content Creation: Start a YouTube channel, podcast, or blog to share your expertise or passion and monetize through ads, sponsorships, and affiliate marketing.

3. Online Surveys and Market Research: Participate in online surveys and market research studies with platforms like Swagbucks or Survey Junkie.

4. Remote Customer Service: Work as a remote customer service representative for companies like Amazon or Apple.

5. Online Tutoring: Teach subjects you're knowledgeable in on platforms like VIPKid or Chegg Tutors.

6. E-commerce: Start an online store using platforms like Shopify, Etsy, or eBay to sell products.

7. Affiliate Marketing: Promote products or services on your blog or social media and earn commissions for sales made through your referral links.

8. Online Courses: Create and sell online courses on platforms like Udemy or Teachable.

9. Remote Data Entry: Find remote data entry jobs on websites like Clickworker or Remote.co.

10. Virtual Assistance: Offer administrative support services to businesses as a virtual assistant.

11. Graphic Design: Use your graphic design skills to create logos, graphics, or websites for clients on platforms like Fiverr.

12. Stock Photography: Sell your photos on stock photography websites like Shutterstock or Adobe Stock.

13. App Development: Develop and sell mobile apps or offer app development services.

14. Social Media Management: Manage social media accounts for businesses looking to enhance their online presence.

15. Dropshipping: Start an e-commerce business without holding inventory by dropshipping products.

16. Online Consultations: Offer consulting services in your area of expertise through video calls.

17. Online Surplus Sales: Sell unused items or collectibles on platforms like eBay or Facebook Marketplace.

18. Online Fitness Coaching: Become an online fitness coach and offer workout plans and guidance.

19. Virtual Events: Host webinars, workshops, or conferences on topics you're knowledgeable about.

20. Podcast Production: Offer podcast editing, production, or consulting services.

21. Remote Transcription: Transcribe audio and video files for clients.

22. Online Translation: Offer translation services if you're proficient in multiple languages.

23. Affiliate Blogging: Create a niche blog with affiliate marketing as the primary revenue source.

24. Online Art Sales: Sell your artwork, crafts, or digital art on platforms like Etsy or Redbubble.

25. Remote Bookkeeping: Offer bookkeeping services for small businesses from home.

26. Digital Marketing: Provide digital marketing services like SEO, PPC, or social media management.

27. Online Gaming: Stream your gaming sessions on platforms like Twitch and monetize through ads and donations.

28. Virtual Assistant Coaching: If you have experience as a VA, offer coaching services to aspiring virtual assistants.

29. Online Research: Conduct research for businesses or individuals in need of specific information.

30. Online Real Estate: Invest in virtual real estate, such as domain names or digital properties, and sell them for a profit.

Remember that success in making money online often requires dedication, patience, and the ability to adapt to changing trends. It's essential to research and choose the opportunities that align with your skills, interests, and long-term goals.

[namastenetindia]

Your Business with NamasteNet: Hyderabad's Premier Web Development and POS Solution Experts

In today’s digital-first world, a strong online presence is non-negotiable. Whether you’re running a startup or managing an established business, having a well-crafted website and efficient point-of-sale (POS) systems can make all the difference. This is where NamasteNet comes in. Based in the heart of Hyderabad, NamasteNet is a leader in providing cutting-edge web development and POS solutions that cater to businesses of all sizes.

Why NamasteNet?

At NamasteNet, we understand that each business is unique. That’s why we specialize in delivering tailored solutions that meet your specific needs. From stunning website designs to robust POS systems, we offer a comprehensive suite of services that drive business growth.

Web Design Services That Shine

Your website is often the first point of contact with potential customers, making it crucial to leave a lasting impression. NamasteNet’s Web Design Services in Hyderabad are focused on creating visually appealing, user-friendly websites that not only look great but also perform exceptionally well.

Custom Website Design: We don’t believe in cookie-cutter solutions. Our team of creative web designers works closely with you to craft a website that truly represents your brand.

E-commerce Website Development: If you’re looking to sell products online, our e-commerce solutions are second to none. We design and develop e-commerce platforms that are secure, scalable, and easy to manage.

Mobile App Development: With more consumers accessing websites via mobile devices, having a responsive design is essential. Our mobile app development services ensure your site looks great and functions smoothly on any device.

SEO and Digital Marketing for Visibility

What’s the use of a beautiful website if it doesn’t reach your target audience? NamasteNet’s SEO Services in Hyderabad are designed to boost your online visibility and drive organic traffic to your site. Our digital marketing strategies are data-driven and tailored to meet your business goals.

SEO Optimization: We use the latest SEO techniques to ensure your website ranks high on search engine results pages (SERPs).

Content Marketing: Engaging content is key to attracting and retaining customers. Our team creates high-quality content that resonates with your audience and enhances your brand’s online presence.

POS Solutions That Streamline Operations

Efficiency is the backbone of any successful business. NamasteNet’s POS Solutions in Hyderabad are designed to streamline your operations, from inventory management to sales tracking.

Retail POS Software: Ideal for retail stores, our POS software helps you manage sales, inventory, and customer data with ease.

Restaurant POS Software: Tailored specifically for the food industry, our restaurant POS systems ensure smooth operations, from order taking to billing.

Cloud-based POS Solutions: Access your business data anytime, anywhere with our secure cloud-based POS systems.

Affordable Solutions with No Compromises

At NamasteNet, we believe that quality doesn’t have to come with a hefty price tag. Our services are competitively priced, ensuring that businesses of all sizes can access top-notch web development and POS solutions. We are proud to be part of the "Made in India" movement, contributing to the "Digital India" initiative by providing innovative, locally developed solutions.

Our Commitment to Excellence

Choosing NamasteNet means choosing a partner who is committed to your success. Our team of experts in Hyderabad is dedicated to delivering solutions that not only meet but exceed your expectations. We take the time to understand your business, offering personalized services that drive results.

Get Started with NamasteNet Today

Are you ready to take your business to the next level? Whether you need a new website, want to improve your online visibility, or are looking for efficient POS solutions, NamasteNet has you covered.

Contact Us Today: 📞 +91 905 905 4355 📧 info@namastenet.com 🏢 16-11-220, East Prasanth Nagar, Moosarambagh, Hyderabad - 500036

Visit our website at www.NamasteNet.com to learn more about our services and how we can help your business thrive.

[thedailyjcs]

Thrifted Treasures: LJ's Journey in Sustainable Fashion Entrepreneurship

by Jerraine Sy and Jose Carlos Morata

Leila Jazel Madelar, who goes by the name LJ, is a student at National University Fairview pursuing BS Tourism. LJ is the proud owner of Madie's Wardrobe, where she sells curated thrifted clothes through her Facebook page and ships them out via Shopee Checkout. LJ's commitment to sustainability and supporting local businesses is an appropriate match for our theme, which emphasizes the advantages that thrifted clothing has for the economy and the environment. 

In the vibrant world of ukay-ukay, LJ encountered unpredictable situations as an entrepreneur. This is not new to the business world, especially in the ukay-ukay culture. Although she handpicked these items rather than buying in bulk, sometimes they do not appeal to people's tastes or align with current trends. The importance of adaptability in overcoming obstacles is truly essential, as mismanaging this aspect could result in profit loss. 

She discusses the diverse attitudes of customers and the challenges in ensuring they follow instructions. Despite that, she employs patience and takes the time to educate customers on the checkout process, maintaining a high level of customer satisfaction. True success lies in maximizing profitability. When she receives the profit, it marks the culmination of her efforts as a dedicated businesswoman. 

LJ sets herself apart by focusing on offering affordable sets, steering away from the trend of overpricing items observed in similar shops. This strategy has contributed to the success of Madie's Wardrobe. She handpicks each item from various thrift stores, personally fitting them and curating a collection through meticulous examination. This attention to detail ensures a curated and quality inventory. She observes the thrift clothes market trends and notes the enduring popularity of items like crop tops and pants. She also stays attuned to customer preferences, adapting her inventory to meet the ongoing demands of the market. 

The virtue of patience is the most significant lesson that she teaches. Managing several projects at once is part of being a lone owner, and even with diligent attention to detail, problems can still occur. Maintaining a high standard of customer satisfaction requires flexibility and responsiveness to any issues that might arise. LJ advises aspiring thrift clothes sellers to embrace hard work and be prepared to take risks. She emphasizes the importance of having a backup plan to avoid losses and ensure success. Aspiring thrift store vendors should accept hard labor and be willing to take calculated chances, according to Leila. She strongly expresses that to prevent losses and guarantee success, a backup plan is essential. The importance of preparedness for potential challenges cannot be overstated; it forms the backbone of a resilient business strategy. It's important to have a backup plan within a backup plan, as this provides greater control in uncertain situations. 

To sum up, LJ's experience selling used clothing is proof of her tenacity, enthusiasm, and steadfast dedication to her clients' needs. Madie's Wardrobe is a source of inspiration for aspiring businesses that want to enter the realm of online thrifted clothes sales in addition to providing reasonably priced apparel. 

[ohnothisisathing]

Gift to Me Forever

Decided to finish my unfinished fics from Hideduo Kiss Week, which I stopped because I was so behind. 1 more after this.

Day 6: Soft/Tender Kiss. Supermarket au, kind of. Bagi is in this one Title from Kissing You by Des’ree

Content warning: little bit of angst. Rated 17+

“The bald guy came in again. He bought the canned water.”

“You sell canned water?” Bagi asks, scrunching her eyebrows and Pac feels immediately flustered.

“I ordered it once by accident. He’s the only one that buys it,” he explains.

“Uh-huh,” she says in a tone that indicates that she doesn’t believe him, an amused smile on her face.

-

He comes in again, the baldy. He buys four cans of water, the last of Pac’s stock of the mis-ordered item. He smiles at him, and okay it’s very handsome, for a bald guy. He’s holding the four cans between one arm and his chest. Pac’s eyes linger at the flex of that arm before ringing him up.

“Obrigado,” the bald guy says in an attractively deep voice when Pac hands him the cans back in a small, plastic bag.

Later when the store is closed and Pac takes inventory on items he needs to re-order, his finger lingers over the canned water and selects it.

-

“He bought juice, Bagi.”

“I’m sorry, who bought juice?”

“The bald guy! Aren’t you paying attention?” 

A look of comprehension comes to Bagi’s face and she smiles a knowing smile that Pac isn’t sure he likes directed at him.

“Ah yes, your bald guy.”

“He is not my bald guy. He’s just a bald guy.”

“Oh apologies,” she says, not sounding sorry at all, “So a bald guy bought juice and that’s bad?”

“Yes! I bought more canned water and he didn’t buy it!”

”Well maybe he just wanted juice today,” Bagi says practically

”Maybe…but he’s never bought anything besides canned water before.”

“Well that is strange. Are you sure you put it on your shelves? I did that once when I forgot to put some sodas on the shelf and did not realize until looking in my storage again.”

“I’m sure,” says Pac, not sure that he put the canned water on the shelf. He’ll have to look at his storage later but Bagi doesn’t need to know that.

“Didn’t you say that you bought them accidentally last time? Did you accidentally order more?

“I didn’t expect you to remember that,” Pac admits and Bagi belts out a laugh.

“Ha! So you do like this bald guy. What is his name?”

“I don’t know his name-“

“You have to ask him for his name and for his number. If he shops at your market he must live nearby. Maybe after work you can go back to his place.”

Bagi lifts her eyebrows suggestively and Pac laughs.

“I know how to ask someone out!” He says defensively even though he’s been single for a long time, “I’m not attracted to bald guys Bagi and he looks like he can hold me against a wall without me being able to escape. It’s dangerous really.”

Bagi raises a singular eyebrow at him and Pac huffs dramatically to make it look a little less like she won.

”What?”

”Oh he’s strong? You’ve been looking at his body, but you’re not attracted to him?”

Pac groans and covers his eyes with his hands for a moment before looking away from Bagi.

”He’s very handsome,” Pac relents, “and strong and has a great voice and-“

”So ask him out already,” she says, smacking him lightly and making him smile “I haven’t seen you happy in a long time. I want someone good for you.”

Pac laughs and looks at Bagi’s grinning face and her worried eyes that only show when she’s being open and honest. She truly cares for him and he’ll always be grateful that he has her.

”Maybe.”

-

He doesn’t come in.

Pac has taken the canned water out of storage and stocked them onto the shelves, and the bald guy has not come in. It has been weeks. Pac manages to not think about it while he’s on register and dealing with customers, but later when he takes a break in the alley by his store with only the rats for company, he lets his thoughts loose.

Maybe the bald guy stopped coming in because he didn’t think they had canned water anymore. He could put up a sign saying “We have canned water!” on the door. What if he’s going to Bagi’s market now? No he wouldn’t just go to someone else’s market. Right, because Bagi does not sell canned water. She said it herself, but then where was he? Did he move far away? Oh no, he’ll never see him again!

“He’s gone forever Ratinhos,” he says to two of the rats that stop to sniff the air for food, probably smelling his uneaten snack. 

Saying it outloud makes a feeling of dread start pooling in his stomach.

“Is he dead? He died didn’t he?”

The dread pools higher and it’s suddenly harder to breathe as unexpected sadness crawls up his throat for this stranger.

“He died where I couldn’t hope to find him,” he says through a tight throat knowing that it’s true. Even here it’s true.

-

“Oi Bagi! I haven’t heard from you in a long time. I hope you are well!

…

I know. 

I know what all of this is and I-I don’t want to talk about it on a voice message.

Oh! How is Empanada? I miss her and her adorable pancakes and her frying pan.

I miss you too and Felps and Richarlyson and Cellbit and the Favela. I miss you all so much.

Call me back when you can.”

-

Pac watches him walk into his market, openly staring as he goes to the shelf with the canned water and comes to the register where Pac is waiting.

Pac knew that he would come in just like he knew that they would be the only two people in the market right now. Because he wanted it to happen.

His only customer sets down his canned water on the counter but instead of scanning it, Pac takes the man’s left hand in his right, noting the oddness of feeling flesh against flesh.

“Oi Fit,” Pac greets the bald guy quietly, still staring at their hands together.

“Oi Pac,” he hears the voice he loves speak, “bom dia, bom dia, bom dia!”

A short laugh falls out of Pac and he looks up to see a smiling face that is so happy to see him that Pac can’t help grinning at him too.

“Bom dia Fitch.”

An overwhelming feeling solidifies in him that is so big he can’t tell if it’s joy or despair. Pac lets go of the hand and walks around the counter to stand in front of Fit without a barrier between them.

Pac puts a hand on Fit’s cheek and searches his face for answers, but only sees happiness shining on him like the sun and Pac is so weak to everything about this man it’s a wonder Fit sees any strength in him at all. 

So he kisses him.

Slowly and savoring, Fit’s lips against his, feeling his jaw work under his hand. Pac’s world narrows and his blood rushes and his heart aches. They pull away and Pac can hardly stand it so much that he goes back in for a second one. He feels Fit huff a laugh and move his arms around Pac to pull them closer and for a moment they’re just smiling, mouths close enough to share breaths.

“Please come back to me Fitchi,” Pac says and kisses his bottom lip, “Please.”

He receives no answer. Just the press of lips against his and he’ll take what comfort he can get.

[garbinge]

Only If I'm Lucky

Angel Reyes & EZ Reyes & Felipe Reyes & OC Lucrecia (Lucky) Fuentes Bishop Losa x OC Lucky

30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 6.2k words A/N: My Lucky girl <3

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content.

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie (have been a bit inactive on tumblr so this might not be up to date, if you'd like to be added to my Mayans taglist please shoot me a message!)

Angel started to tinker with the mechanism that cooled the butcher counter’s selection of cuts. It had been emptied out, all of the meat now living in the walk in cooler in the back. The noise followed by tinkering was a loud crack and then instant whooshing which was quickly drowned out by the yells of Angel as water from a broken pipe spit out into his face and all along the floor. 

“Fuck!” Angel was stepping up and wiping the water off his face and lifting his feet as if that was going to save his shoes from the puddle of water on the ground. Luckily the pipe only had a small amount of water in it, all of it now residing on the shop’s floor but the pipe itself was just dripping verse spilling out now. 

“I told you I ordered a new part for this.” Felipe grumpily approached as he took in the mess his eldest child left on the ground. 

“I was just tryna save you a few bucks, Pops.” Angel didn’t even bother looking at his father, he was more concerned with the gunk and water on his shirt and jeans. 

“Well now you’re costing me more, go to the market and pick up more towels, I don’t have any more here.” 

Angel nodded and started to make his way over the puddle and around the counter until he frowned and turned around. “I don’t think Fuentes Grocery has towels for sale, Pops.” 

Even though Felipe was turned around, his sigh could be heard crystal clear to Angel. 

“I meant to talk to Lisabeth, ask her to borrow some.” Some days the father of the Reyes family felt his children were still 10 years old despite them having moved out and having their own lives. 

Angel nodded and made his way out of the shop and walked a couple feet to the right where Fuentes Grocery was, it was the carniceria’s neighbor, only sitting two stores away from it. The Fuentes family, who owned the store became close friends with the Reyes family over the years. There were similar family dynamics at play. Single parent, two kids, one of them who tended to get into more trouble than the other. Years ago that would have been the way Felipe described Angel, but considering his younger son just got out of prison, he’d have to give that title to Ezekiel. Although, with Angel’s involvement with the local MC, he was tailing pretty close. 

“Lisa!” Angel called out as he entered the store, the bells on the door ringing as an additional signal someone was here, not that it was needed in addition to his voice. 

“This isn’t your fuckin’ clubhouse, Angel. You can’t just yell and expect attention.” A woman’s voice sped past him with a box of produce. 

“Sorry, Lucrecia.” Angel smirked knowing the use of the girl’s full name would bother her. 

“Only mom calls me that, Reyes.” She was placing the box on the closest counter before turning around to roll her eyes at him.   

“Speaking of your mom, I’m looking for her. She here?” Angel lifted his head to see if he could see the elder woman who he had called out to originally. 

“No, she went down to the municipal building, some shit about our permits.” The girl was wiping her hands on her apron that had her name tag pinned to it. “Lucky, General Manager.” 

“Permits? They’re still bugging her about that?” Angel frowned. 

“They’re always bugging us about something. Our permits, our labor works, our inventory. If it’s not one thing it’s the other. All a part of the county’s push to gentrify shit.” The frustration in Lucky’s voice was apparent. 

“Look, Bish, he knows the mayor, I could pull a few strings.” Angel’s voice was determined and hopeful. He knew the girl knew Bishop, but wasn’t sure if she was aware of his connections.

“I don’t need you rescuing me, Reyes.” 

“Not you, Fuentes.” Angel rolled his eyes. “But this place, it’s one of the last few latino grocery stores in the area, not to mention it’s got a lot of memories. 

It was true, between here and the carniceria there were tons of memories for them as young kids, teenagers. 

Angel broke his arm in aisle 5 when he was 12. Lucky was the one who pushed him, not without motive though. He was throwing lentils at her, trying to get them stuck in her hair. 

EZ would come over on inventory nights with Lucky and help her take stock so she could place product orders. 

The three kids constantly found themselves at the halfway point between the grocer and the carniceria after school pretty often. The Santo Padre Arcade. Most of the high scores on the machines inside had the initials LKY, ANG, or EZ. 

Lucky would bring over fresh spices and produce for Felipe every week so he could prepare marinades and dry rubs to sell, all courtesy of her mother, Lisa. He’d send her back with meat for the week. 

Every Wednesday night, they had dinner together, both families. The Fuentes would be lucky if the younger sibling would show. Tómas had a tendency to be caught up in his own mess, it started out as small petty issues. Stealing, fighting, acting out. But then as the group got older, he started doing more serious crimes. Drugs, robbery, battery and assault. It was expected, the Fuentes family came from a really dangerous town in Guatemala, once their father had been killed just from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, the matriarch of the family, Lisabeth, made the decision to take her two kids out of the country and somewhere she thought would be more safe. 

Angel tried his best to get Tómas to join the club, he figured it’d be a good place for him to feel welcome, feel that familial bond he was likely missing. But it never worked. He ended up getting arrested for arson and now resided in Stockton State County Corrections serving 15-20, with a chance of getting out on parole when the 10 mark hit. 

Overall, the memories were flowing between these two stores, between each member of the family. 

“Are they pushing you to sell?” Lucky’s voice got more serious now. It wasn’t a secret, with her mother’s old age, the store was becoming more and more of Lucky’s responsibility. She let her mom handle a lot of the business things, help her feel like she still had control, but to people like Angel and EZ, they could see Lucky was truly the one pulling strings and keeping the operation moving. 

“Nah, I know they’re ripping up half the strip but the mayor keeps them off the shop. Pop, well, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Angel explained. 

It was obvious Lucky was considering it, with a new fine every month, people with suits coming even more frequently trying to push a check, it was getting exhausting, and hard to keep up with the other tasks to keep the grocery running. 

“Let me talk to Bishop.” Lucky spoke up, it was clear her mind was going a mile a minute trying to think of the best way to go about it. 

“You know you don’t gotta bother with all that, I can talk to him.” Angel moved forward and grabbed the box of produce knowing when he entered the girl was moving to restock the produce carts. 

Lucky grabbed the tape dispenser along with the price tags she had clearly written herself and followed behind Angel. “So I’ll come by tonight?” Lucky was completely ignoring Angel’s statement. She wanted to be the one to talk to Bishop. Lucky wasn’t a shy or timid girl, she was honestly pretty aggressive and mean only when she had to be, but it never came with hesitation. She had been pretty independent, when it came down to it she had lost both of the Fuentes men in her life and as her mom grew older, a lot of the responsibility fell on Lucrecia. She took it all with stride though, not one complaint about her responsibilities, only letting them slip when people would doubt her or treat her like she wasn’t capable. On the other hand though, that just meant that with the people she loved, she was fiercely loyal. Angel fit somewhere in that description, the whole Reyes family did, and despite the annoyance Lucky felt that she had to repeat herself again, about talking to Bishop herself, the love for the Reyes family trumped that. It also helped that Angel knew the girl well to understand her. 

“A’ight, come by the clubhouse at like 9, the group will be there, there’s a little party happening anyways, a few of the guys from Stockton had to make the trip down.” 

That made Lucrecia laugh to herself. “Even if they weren’t here, the lot of you would find something else to party for.” 

Angel smiled at that. “Ain’t wrong.” He had started to grab the tape and place the price cards in the proper places. A comfortable silence fell over the both of them for the next few minutes as they worked to label and price each box of produce that was recently set up. 

“Wait, why were you looking for my mom?” Lucky broke the silence with a frown, her body now leaning against the slanting produce stand as she stared up at Angel. 

“Fuck!” All of Angel’s thoughts came back to him as he scrambled to the back of the store. Lucky was close behind, not without a laugh and few comments about if his head wasn’t attached to his body. She followed him in the back inventory section, dodging palettes, making mental notes of all the other things she needed to get to this week, the list starting to scroll down which always made it difficult for her to breathe when she thought about it. To her surprise, they ended up at the custodial room as Angel quickly collected a couple of the folded towels that were stacked on the shelves. 

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Lucky asked but Angel was already moving back out to the store. So she simply grabbed two towels herself and followed him out the store. As they reached the door, she turned to the group of cashiers, two busy ringing people up but the other was price tagging a few items for the manager’s special shelf as she waited for her line to build. 

“Ana, can you keep an eye for the next few minutes? I’m popping over to Felipe’s really quickly.” 

The girl smiled, nodded, and waved her out, making it a lot easier on Lucky to go help Angel deal with, well, whatever was happening. 

“Hello?!” She called out to Angel who was multiple feet ahead of her now. Between the headstart and his long legs, she’d have to jog to catch up to him, which wasn’t happening. 

Finally, she approached the carniceria, Angel was already inside and as she opened the door she saw the puddle through the glass case. 

“Woah.” It was said breathy as she caught her breath. She might not have jogged to keep up with Angel, but she did pick her pace up. “You bullshit your time away knowing this was over here?” 

“Of course he did.” Felipe’s voice could be heard behind the girl as he re-entered his shop with a metal part in his hand. Even with the annoyance in his voice, it didn’t stop him from smiling and placing a kiss on the girl’s head. For all intents and purposes, Lucky was like a daughter to Felipe, he was probably the only man in the world who treated her delicately and that was because it was the only man in the world Lucrecia would let treat her that way. 

“Hola, Lucrecia.” He smiled before dropping his frown as he looked at the mess. 

“What happened?” She carefully stepped to throw the towels she had down on the ground to soak up any of the puddle possible before turning to Felipe for answers because she had tried and failed with Angel even before they got here. 

“My angel of a son was trying to save me money.” Felipe called out as he disappeared into the walk-in freezer. 

Lucrecia turned to give Angel a look and all he did was wave it off and moved to soak up more of the liquid. With an eye roll she got down to look at the bottom of the glass case. “Oh you just need to replace this.” Her voice was so shocked as she expected to see something worse based on the mess. 

Angel’s eyes closed as he fully accepted his defeat, knowing now that there were two of them against one, he wasn’t standing a chance. 

Felipe could be heard again as he walked back through the small hallway from the freezer to where the main part of the store was. “I told him.” He grunted as he placed the black crate filled with different odds and ends of meats on the bookshelf perpendicular to the glass case. 

“Do you have the part? I can fix this.” She turned her head to look at Felipe who was picking it out of his apron pocket. 

“That? That’s the part?” Angel stood there shocked as Lucky went to grab it. 

Lucky let out a laugh, knowing Angel was realizing how big he messed up and she immediately grabbed the wrench to move to the ground to install the new part while Angel stood there still dumbfounded, fully understanding the reality of the mess he made. 

As she twisted the washers around the pipe, the sound of Angel’s phone echoed and faded as he stepped over Lucky to go take the call outside. She let out another laugh, this is usually how it went. Lucky was always fixing Angel’s mess, she did it willingly, a lot of the time without Angel even realizing it. Ever since EZ went to prison, there was kind of this unspoken bond between the two. They both had siblings that went to prison, parents who were struggling to make it by, the eldest children of the family who were required to step up even if they weren’t asked. It created an unstated understanding between them. 

“Sorry, that was E, I gotta go. See you later tonight, Lucky.” Angel walked back into the shop to grab his kutte which was hanging on one of the counters, likely taken off when he was attempting to fix the cooler. 

“You weren’t doing anything anyways!” Lucky called out with her head half under the cooler still adjusting the part with the wrench so there was no chance of another leak. 

Felipe let out a laugh at her comment and waved his son out. 

Angel left with a head shake but no time to argue. 

“Thanks for your help.” Felipe walked over and sat on a crate to Lucky’s left. 

“Should have called me from the jump!” Lucky was still yelling since her voice was muffled by the cooler. 

Felipe laughed again, “You should know how it is with Angel. He does before he thinks.” 

Lucky pushed herself out from the cooler and smiled. She sat up so her elbows were resting on her knees and her back was leaning against the cooler. 

“Should work good as new now.” Her head pointed to the open slot of the cooler. 

“I can see it on your face.” Felipe said as he looked at her. “What’s going on?” 

Lucky knew it wasn’t worth brushing off what was on her mind. “Feel like we can’t catch a break. If it’s not our permits, it's our warehouses, the price jumps, I’m drowning.” 

“You’re doing too much.” Felipe spoke up, he wasn’t going to turn this into a pity party, it wasn’t what Lucky wanted and it definitely wasn’t what she needed. She needed facts, she needed advice.

“We’re doing the same?” Lucky spoke confused. 

“It was too much then when it was you and your mom working the same but it's definitely too much now that it’s mainly you.” He wasn’t looking at the girl as he spoke, his eyes were on the counter as he leaned over to grab a handful of something. As he turned back to see the look on her face, he laughed. “I’m old, not stupid.” Leaning over he held his hand out and Lucky met him halfway extending out her own hand. “Your mom’s getting up there, it's harder for her.” 

Lucky’s eyes dropped down to see the few pieces of chocolate fall into her hand and she grinned both at that and his comment. “Don’t tell her that.” 

“I wouldn’t dare.” Felipe chuckled. 

“You opened up that florist section a couple years ago. Is it bringing in cash?” He was asking so nicely but Lucky could tell he knew the answer to his question. 

“Same thing with the bakery.” Lucky took a deep breath. 

Felipe just nodded, waiting for a full response from the girl. 

“If we closed down the floral department and the bakery, downsized our selections, we’d be above water easily.” She thought back to the spreadsheets she spent so often looking at. There was the added piece of the permits and fines, but after tonight she’d hope that’d be settled. “But I don’t know if my mom would be on board for that, she worked hard to open up those departments.” 

“Let me chat with your mom, she’s coming for dinner tomorrow night anyways.” Felipe offered up with a soft smile. “She might just need some convincing that taking the backseat is what’s best.” 

“She’s going to call you out.” Lucky tried to bite back her smirk, as she finally dropped the pieces of chocolate in her mouth. She knew her mother so well that she’d push the cards back on Felipe. 

“And I’ll mention that my two children combined aren’t as involved as you.” There was humor in his voice but also truth behind that. Angel and EZ had the club, the shop was second to them. For Lucky, this was her life, her first priority. 

“Thanks.” She nodded before beginning to stand up. Dusting off her clothes and apron as she steaded herself standing. 

“I should be thanking you. I can open for the afternoon now.” He brought her in for a quick hug before walking the woman out of the shop. 

_______ Lucky was glad she set the alarm on her phone because otherwise she would have worked straight through the night. She was taking time to go through the paperwork and make rough estimates on the cuts. She kept reminding herself that it was better to cut the pieces of the business that were hemorrhaging money than cutting people. 

She ran her hands over her face and through her hair before taking a deep breath and getting up out of the office chair. She shut her laptop and leaned over the desk taking one last look at the stack of folders and papers scattered around before turning the desk lamp off. As she made her way back to the lockers the employees used, she hung her apron on the hook by the door. As the locker opened she looked in the mirror she had zip tied to the locker and couldn’t help but chuckle. The bags under her eyes were dark and her hair was falling out of its ponytail. She grabbed concealer from her makeup bag that lived in the top part of her locker and covered up her under eyes along with a couple other blemishes while also taking out her hair and letting the curls fall in their natural places. Her last thing before heading out was changing out of the dirtied t-shirt she wore all day that smelt like the floor of the butchers shop, iron, produce, and sweat all together. Taking the opportunity she re-applied deodorant and then sprayed the cheap fruit perfume on her full outfit before grabbing her phone so she could call a cab. 

It always made her laugh when she showed up to the clubhouse on party nights. She tended to stick out, not being a partier and more of a homebody whenever she got the chance. It showed in how she acted at these things. While others were drinking to obliteration, smoking, and fighting, she always was in the corner, nursing her beer and taking in the life around her. 

As she stood on the inside of the gate with her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and took in the party in front of her, she heard her name being called. Turning to see where it was coming from she saw the Reyes brothers. 

“Haven’t seen you at a club party in months, Luck.” Angel cheesed clearly a couple beers in already. 

“Don’t get used to it.” She gave him a hug and quickly grabbed the beer he just opened before he took a sip of it. 

“Gladly.” He huffed and took the steps to go grab another one from the bar inside leaving Lucky and EZ outside. 

“Been a minute, Lucky.” EZ hugged the girl. 

“Sure has. I didn’t want to bother you at your welcome home party, the neighbors were very excited.” 

EZ smiled his signature smile at that and dropped his face to the ground. “The abuelitas love a comeback story.”  

“That they do.” She laughed and pointed to his arms. “The biceps, too.” 

After the two of them let out a couple laughs, EZ decided he’d address the elephant in the room.

“Tómas, he’s doing good, we weren’t cellmates or anything but he was on the same cell block as me, same courtyard and lunch times, work detail, saw him a lot, he’s–” 

“I don’t really care about Tómas, EZ.” Her face hardened as she spoke to him, her arms now moving across her chest completely closing herself off to the conversation. “I don’t visit him for a reason.” EZ knew the reason, it was because he cut his family off the visitors list. It’s where he got the idea to do it with Emily. He downplayed it to Lucky but EZ got close with Tómas in prison, they weren’t best friends by any means but they talked more inside than they ever did outside. It was on the tip of his tongue, he was about to say that it’s hard in lockup that Tómas took her off the list for a reason she’d never understand unless it happened to her but he just nodded. 

“I’m happy you’re home, EZ.” She reached up and squeezed his arm.

“Yea, me too.” He rested his hand on hers and squeezed it back.

“I got business to discuss with your prez,” She shifted gears completely, her voice completely changing from the seriousness it was in before. 

“Fuentes Grocer GM never stops talking business.” 

“Or thinking about it.” She joked. “Do you know where Bishop is?” 

“Probably inside telling drunken war stories with the other viejos.” EZ’s grin was contagious to Lucky. 

Her eyes glanced down to the watch on her wrist and while it was completely plausible for that to be the case, she knew this early into the night Bishop would be sober and solemn, they likely had templo at 8, which is why Angel told her to come at 9. It was now 9:35, just like the business never slept for her, it was the same for the club president. 

The music got louder as the door opened, there were more people inside than outside and it overwhelmed the girl a bit. She took a couple steps inside and looked around searching for Bishop over every face in the crowd. That was when Taza’s eyes caught hers. His face softened and his lips curved into a light smile before he pointed to the templo sliding door which was partially open. That gave her all the permission she needed to walk over and stand at the entrance. She stood there silent for a minute, she felt like she was looking at a mirror as she saw him with papers scattered all over the table, his hand resting on his forehead as he thought through whatever was on his mind. As he let out a deep sigh his eyes looked up to see Lucrecia at the stained glass door. Despite being mid-sigh, his smile grew. 

“Aren’t I lucky?” He spoke up as he leaned back in the chair. The joke was one he always made when he saw her. She’d never admit that it made her unbelievably giddy. “Close the door.” 

She didn’t even bother to look behind her as she closed the door, her eyes stayed on Bishop’s as her hand reached behind her and slid the door closed. 

Lucky took her time to walk over to Bishop, letting her hand move lightly over the chairs that took up every foot between her and the man. Stopping at the vice president's chair where she took both of her hands and let them rest on the points of the backrest. 

“You look like me 30 minutes ago.” She nodded at the papers as her body swung to and from the chair as her hands still gripped on the backrest. 

“Busy night for us decision makers.” He was fully leaning back now, his arm casually draped along the arm rest as his body shifted to face the woman. 

“Always is.” 

“Rough day for you?” Bishop changed his demeanor a bit as he picked up on the girl’s tone. 

“Always is.” She repeated the same sentence but this time it was spoken with humor as he eyebrows raised. 

“Come here.” Bishop moved his head to the right but he was signaling for the girl to come closer to him. 

Instinctually she turned to the door to make sure she fully closed it and then moved to straddle the man in his chair. Her legs sliding through the open space of the arm rests, and her arms moving to rest right on top of his shoulders, her hands meeting behind his head intertwined. Bishop’s hands instinctually moved to hold her securely on his lap which just meant they were resting comfortable on her rear. Moments like these with Bishop helped her balance reality, made life feel light and goals feel tangible. She’d never admit that out loud though. Admitting it would mean anyone but them knew about their relationship. If it even could be called that. Since know one knew they didn’t really give it a label, although Bishop wasn’t really the type to ask someone to be his old lady, it was a role someone just fit into. Taza was the only one from the club that had any knowledge of Lucky and Bishop, no one else. 

Bishop leaned his head up and brought one of his hands to Lucky’s head and brought it down to meet his. Their foreheads rested on eachother’s for a moment and it was all Lucrecia needed to know despite their lack of ability to say it outloud, she was the same balance for him as he was to her. Their lips met for a quick second, just a brush against eachother’s until they met with full passion. Lucky couldn’t help but roll her hips on top of the man, squeeze her arms tightly around him in an attempt to get as close as possible to the man. Bishop’s hands got tangled up in her curls, then down the pink satin spaghetti strap that rested on her torso and then finally back down to her tight jeans. 

As they stopped to catch their breaths, Bishop reached back up and tucked her hair behind her ear and quickly rubbed his thumb on her cheek. As his hands retreated back down similarly to how they were just minutes before, but now with less feral eagerness and more of a caring touch, his ringed ringers grabbed the spaghetti strap that must’ve fallen down the girl’s arm during their passionate kiss and placed it back on her shoulder. He placed it back with the lightest touch, one that sent shivers down her spine before he gripped her legs again and secured her on his lap. 

“I know you didn’t come here just to see me, I’m not that lucky.” There was the joke again. It made her wish they were back at either of their normal stomping grounds, his place or hers where there was probably no free space they didn’t christen but she’d have no problem trying to find one. 

“Why wouldn’t I be here just to see you?” Her voice was meant to sound jokingly but it had been drenched with allure. 

“Because you only come to the clubhouse when I ask you to be here,” He had gotten her there, that was true, she rarely if ever did these random pop ins. “Since there was a party tonight, I knew specifically not to ask you.” His hands were now rubbing up and down her back sometimes bringing the fabric of her shirt up and he’d touch the bare skin, and sometimes it’d be the tickle of the satin fabric up and down her skin. 

“I’ve been known to party.” She argued, leaning over and leaving a couple kisses on his neck. 

“Oh, I know you can party.” It was a flirtatious line and Lucky knew exactly what he was talking about, down to envisioning it in her head. 

She moved her mouth over to his now and kissed him, it took a lot for her not to start grinding on his lap again as she moved in sync with the kiss but before getting too carried away again, she cupped his face as she pulled back and let her hands rest on his shoulders. 

“I do need something.” She closed her eyes, hating that she ruined the moment and hated even more that she had to ask a favor. 

“I know.” He smirked and it was something that if Lucrecia kept her eyes closed she would have missed. 

“What do you mean you know?” She was confused. 

“Angel gave me a heads up.” It was spoken so airy with no weight to it that from context clues alone it shouldn’t have angered Lucky the way it did. 

“Of course he did. I could kill him.” She let out an angered sigh. 

“Be my guest, you’d be doing me a favor.” Bishop joked. 

“Unfortunately I think his father would be rather mad at me if I did.” She squinted her eyes back at Bishop her way of addressing his sarcasm. But all he did was dish it right back with a raise of his eyebrows as if to say, ‘are you sure about that?’ 

“Alright, you got me there.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not much of a murderer anyways.” 

“You’re right, I can handle it for you.” He teased. Bishop never realized the weight of jokes like that for Lucky, what they brought her back to, her father, her brother. The conflict in the fact that she hated her brother for pretty much the exact same thing that her best friends did, that the man she was with did. But it was different, at least that’s what she told herself every time the thought snuck into her head and she’d never let it sit there for longer than a minute and even that was 59 seconds too long. 

“What did big mouth tell you?” Lucky moved to cross her arms now to show her displeasure to Bishop. 

“Why don’t you tell me? It’ll sound better coming from you.” Bishop was working his charm on her and it worked. 

“I need something.” She repeated again, her way of working up the nerve to ask even though it was clear the man knew something already. 

He could have answered with another teasing comment but he opted to go the other way. “Whatever you need.” 

“I hear you know the mayor.” She spoke. 

Despite knowing a basis of what she was going to ask, It caught Bishop by surprise. The girl he was currently with asking about the one he was with previously. Angel had left out details and just mentioned that Lucky needed some help with business stuff at the grocery store. He thought he’d have to twist some arms at a warehouse, maybe rough up a supplier. 

“I don’t care about how you know her, Obispo.” It was like she could read his facial expressions like a book.  “I just need a favor. Angel told me you could do it, but I’m not stupid enough to rely on Angel’s facts.” This made Bishop laugh. “What’s the favor?” 

“We keep getting harassed about our permits, people keep coming by to try and push us to sell, for a very disrespectful price I might add.” She tilted her head in anger as she explained the situation. “Between the fines and then my mom going down to talk to the municipality, followed by me because she gets nowhere with them, I’m wasting so much money and time, which is money.” 

Bishop seemed kind of relieved that was what the favor was, if he knew sooner of the issues Fuentes Grocery was facing he would have mentioned it to the mayor sooner without Lucky even needing to ask. 

“Consider it done.” 

By the look on Bishop’s face, it made Lucky let out a breathy laugh which made Bishop frown but the slight smirk on his face was growing. “What’s funny?” 

“How something weighing so heavy on me is such an easy task for you.” 

“I wouldn’t say it’s easy.” Bishop knew these business propositions down at the mayor's office were well above his pay grade, there was a line and he knew where he wasn’t able to cross it. But this, considering how close it was to the carniceria which he had already put on the mayor’s radar, this wouldn’t be close to the line. Now, Vicki’s, that was a different story and another problem for another day. “It’s just doable.” 

“Thank you.” She softened her face and hugged the man. The power in her embrace was something Bishop could feel, he knew the importance of taking care of the store for the girl and this clearly had been a dark cloud looming over her for a while. 

“Can I help you with your stuff?” She turned to look at the paperwork, not taking any time to really soak any of the info in without the president’s permission. 

“Mapping our route up to Stockton. We’re working on expanding.” 

It was two sentences but it was all Lucky needed. She knew there was issue with a couple clubs on their normal routes so a lot of the major highways would be off-limits, along with some of the back roads. The girl turned more to look at the map where Bishop had penciled through a couple routes and written down the issues as to why they weren’t travelable. 

After she studied the map she picked up the pencil, she was leaning in not the most comfortable position and started to draw a route. “It’ll be 3 hours longer, but you’ll pass by some of the national parks, it’ll make for a nice drive.” Bishop was in awe that he didn’t think of it, he was stuck in here making the list of the ride through calls he was going to have to make in order to secure protection, looking at the route Lucrecia mapped out it cut his list in half, and it was just a courtesy call, not protection. 

“And if you need, I could loan you one of the grocery trucks to take something more direct for some of the guys to get there quicker.” 

A full approached solution. It made Bishop chuckle and kiss the girl one more time.  

“You wanna hang out, I was about to come out with the group anyways.” Bishop spoke as Lucky got up off his lap and they both started piling the maps and notes together on the table. 

“Wish I could but I got a million things to do back at the store, you wanna pick me up later, though? Take me home? Understand if you gotta be here, though, entertain the boys from Stockton.” 

“I’ll pick you up later. Never liked that you’d walk home that late.” 

“I’m a woman not incapable, Obispo.” 

“I meant I never liked it for the town, one person gives you the wrong look and you’ll send them to the hospital, I’m just looking out for Santo Padre, baby.” 

With an eye roll she walked up the couple stairs of templo and turned her head one last time to get a look at him standing at the head of the table. “See you later, Obispo.” 

He smirked knowing he was going to let out the same joke as earlier, one saved just for her that he’d never be able to say to anyone else. 

“Only if I’m lucky.” 

[ninja-muse]

February was a pretty good month! I read some books I really loved (and a couple that were simply meh), I got in a father-daughter visit and had really good luck at Scrabble, the weather was mostly not awful, and even if inventory at work took longer than expected, I survived it without brain mush, which has happened before. I am still the fastest scanner! My title holds.

Regular readers will be unsurprised to learn that Eve by Cat Bohannon and Mirrored Heavens by Rebecca Roanhorse were my top reads of the month, or that What Feasts At Night by T. Kingfisher ranks third. My T. Kingfisher problem is at least a year old, after all. (Also I read a couple delightful picture books, so be sure to click through to find them!)

I'm personally more surprised by my lowest picks, because they both sounded so up my alley but fell flat for nearly completely different reasons. The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store ended up feeling disjointed and like it was trying for a theme it couldn't quite grasp, and A Market of Dreams and Desires hit all kinds of tropes I love, right down to random Dickens references and weird steampunk machines, but tied everything together a little too neatly for me. Ah well.

And right in the middle of my list is my sole physical TBR read of the month: The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz. This managed to tick off "Canadian author" and "classic" at the same time, so I get triple points. (This might have had a hand in me picking it.) Duddy has aged surprisingly well, in that it's still pretty fast-paced and amusing and also in that Richler wrote it with the understanding that scam artistry, hypermaterialism, and misogyny were bad and y'know what? They still are. I would recommend if you're looking for a Canadian teen anti-hero, more than anything. Duddy is a trainwreck and you can't look away.

I managed to get through the month with only three books hauled. (We won't talk about ARCs but the book fairies were kind.) The Unfortunate Traveller and Under a Pendulum Sun were bought during the habitual father-daughter bookstore date, and both because I never thought I'd see them and figured I might never see them again. The Unfortunate Traveller is essays and travel writing by a guy who co-wrote with Shakespeare and I didn't know it even existed. Under the Pendulum Sun was recced to me somewhere (here? bookish website algorithms?) and since it's essentially a gothic novel with properly weird fairies, it's been on my list.

The third book was a total surprise. Apparently I helped crowdfund it in 2019 and they've only just managed to get it printed and also I said I wanted a physical copy? The things we learn. Anyway, it's essays on aromanticism, agender identity, and asexuality so that tracks.

And I know I said I wasn't going to talk about ARCs but I got some good ones this last month and also in January, and there's a lot of them that are out or soon to be out and I'm having that problem where I want to be reading all of them at once. March is going to be interesting and probably a little panic-inducing.

Click through to see everything I read this month, in the rough order of how glad I was to have read them.

Eve - Cat Bohannon

A history of human evolution, through the lens of the female body.

8.5/10

warning: touches on sexism, mental illness, suicide, miscarriage, and rape

reading copy

Mirrored Heavens - Rebecca Roanhorse

The fractures following the eclipse have deepened and no one can see a way back to peace that doesn’t involve bloodshed. Out in June

8/10

Indigenous cast, 🏳️‍🌈 POV characters (bisexual, third gender), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (third gender, sapphic), Black-Pueblo author

warning: war, torture, mentions of child abuse

reading copy

What Feasts At Night - T. Kingfisher

Alex Easton has returned to kar hunting lodge to relax. Unfortunately, the locals claim there's a monster on a property.

8/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (third gender), protagonist with PTSD

Library ebook

The Twilight Queen - Jeri Westerson

Will Somers, jester to Henry VIII, is caught up in another mystery, this time of a corpse in Queen Anne’s bedchamber.

7/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (bi), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (gay)

digital reading copy

The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz - Mordechai Richler

A delinquent teen grows into a hustler, against the backdrop of mid-century Jewish Montreal.

7/10

largely Jewish cast, Jewish author, 🇨🇦

warning: racial slurs, misogyny

Off my TBR shelves

The Woman With No Name - Audrey Blake

Lonely and craving war work, Yvonne signs up to be the first female spy for the Allies in occupied France. Out in March

7/10

half a 🇨🇦 author

reading copy

The Frame-Up - Gwenda Bond

Ten years ago, Dani turned her art thief mom in to the Feds. Now her mom’s mentor has given Dani an offer she can’t refuse: use her magic to pull an impossible heist, get her life back.

6.5/10

Black secondary characters, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (sapphic)

reading copy

The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store - James McBride

The Black and Jewish residents of a Pennsylvania neighbourhood are (mostly) in it together, not least of when the government decides to take a local Deaf kid to an asylum.

7/10

Jewish and Black cast, major character with chronic illness and a limp, secondary Deaf character, Black author

warning: ableist characters and institutions, racist and anti-Semitic characters, sexual assault and molestation, (largely) reclaimed slurs

library book

The Market of Dreams and Destiny - Trip Galey

Deri may have a chance to buy out his indenture early when he meets a princess looking to sell her destiny. But in the goblin’s Untermarkt, nothing’s ever easy.

6.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (mlm), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (mlm, genderfluid), British Indian secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: child abuse, enslavement

borrowed from work

Picture Books

No Cats in the Library - Lauren Emmons

Cats aren’t allowed in the library but that’s where all the books are!

🏳️‍🌈 author

Read at work

Family is Family - Melissa Marr

Chick gets a note before kindergarten, telling him to have his mom or dad walk him to school. Except that Chick has two moms.

🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters and themes

Read at work

Currently reading

Knife Skills for Beginners - Orlando Murrin

Paul Delamare is filling in at a cooking school when the resident celebrity chef has a, erm, "accident."

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (gay), Black British secondary character

Reading copy

True North - Andrew J. Graff

The Brechts move to Wisconsin to restart a rafting business. They hope it’ll save their young family, but it might do the opposite.

library book

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin

A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts.

The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle

Victorian detective stories

disabled POV character, occasional secondary Indian secondary characters

warning: racism, colonialism

Monthly total: 9 +2 Yearly total: 20 Queer books: 4 + 2 Authors of colour: 2 Books by women: 6 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 1.5 Classics: 1 Off the TBR shelves: 1 Books hauled: 3 ARCs acquired: 6 ARCs unhauled: 4 DNFs: 0

January