#baseball custom pins

[asdgsagfasd]

Shade in Style: Custom Sunglasses with Logo by whphmarketing

Our commitment to quality and attention to detail sets WHPH Marketing apart. We pride ourselves on delivering products that not only meet but exceed your expectations. Elevate your brand with our premium promotional items – where every detail matters. Browse our catalog today and let WHPH Marketing be your trusted partner in promoting your brand with style and distinction. Your logo deserves to be showcased on high-quality products, and we are here to make that happen. Transform your promotional strategy with WHPH Marketing – where your brand takes center stage.

[thepascalofus]

First Date

AO3

Pre-outbreak/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x Home Depot Worker!f!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: Working at Home Depot was lack-luster. The paint department brought in a variety of customers, the majority of them just buying their paint and leaving. Then Joel Miller comes in--looking to repaint his daughters bedroom.

Content Warnings/Tags: Pre-outbreak/No-outbreak, reader works at Home Depot, fluff, meet-cute, rude customer, Joel defends you, eventual smut (next part), eventual first date, no descriptions for reader, no y/n.

A/N: Got this as a request! There will be another part with smut.

“More saving. More doing. That’s the power of the Home Depot.”

The wannabe gruff voice of the Home Depot narrator echoed throughout the large cement warehouse. It was Sunday, only two hours until close, and the store was virtually dead.

A large rectangular box of a warehouse was your place of employment for the time being. Orange decorated aisle after aisle, and employee after employee. Some employees decorated their aprons in paint and pins, showing their years of employment and dedication to their jobs. Others simply had their name written on their apron, just like how they simply showed up to work and left.

After moving out of the house you shared with your ex and into your own place, you needed the extra income to supplement your new rent and the remaining rent you owed on your shared lease. 

Home Depot was hiring—and was desperate—because you got employed in the paint department.

Making paint wasn’t hard at all. It was the shitty customers that ruined it. Customers would demand to see a manager after you told them their paint wasn’t ready—even though they asked for three five-gallon buckets, and ten single gallons, fifteen minutes ago. People would order the same amount in a color they swore they would love, and then attempted to return it the next day, even though NO REFUNDS was printed in bold on the Home Depot paint sticker. 

But, working behind the paint counter had its perks. You could stay in one place in the store, telling customers who needed help with complicated items that you, “had to stay and watch the desk.” Plus the desk had a phone, which allowed you to call any department, so your more knowledgeable coworkers could take over tough questions.

The only types of customers left at this hour were those that had emergencies, and those that liked to put things off until the last minute. 

Getting tired of sitting behind the desk’s computer on your phone, you got up and walked the three aisles that made up the department. Your footsteps lightly tapped against the gray concrete of the floor. With each step, you scanned the shelves and the floor for anything out of place. Returning misplaced items was an easy task that helped you eat away at the remaining time of your shift. 

A tube of caulk was placed right in the middle of the gallons of wood stain—classic. You reached downwards to retrieve the tube and stood back up, pacing down the shelves of orange towards the caulking aisle. The music over the loudspeakers was just quiet enough to hear the surrounding conversations in the other aisles.

One voice echoed to you louder than the rest. Randy’s voice.

Randy was a retired mechanic. Most of his skills were applicable to the questions customers often had. The man had wiry, white hair that peaked out from this Home Depot baseball cap he wore everyday. His apron was covered in various stains of grease and dirt, his name scrawled in Sharpie on the upper right corner of the orange fabric.

From a couple aisles over, his gruff voice made its way towards you, “Ah! Paint for a bedroom…Well let’s see, is this a kids bedroom?”

A deep, Texan drawl replied to Randy, “It is, ‘s fer my daughter. She wan’ed her room repainted for her birthday. She’s turnin’ thirteen. Says she needs to get rid’a the ‘baby colors’ from when she was lil’.”

Randy let out a hearty laugh, followed by a muted smack, likely from giving the man a pat on the back, “I know how that feels,” Randy paused to let out another laugh, “My daughter is in her twenties now, but she was the same way as yours. Thirteen hit and she insisted she was allll grown up.”

You retreated to the paint desk with a small smile on your face, it was nice that the man wanted to repaint for his daughter. Your watch told you it was an hour and thirty until close. This customer just had to wait until the last minute, though.

The unknown man let out a chuckle at Randy’s anecdote. Slow, muted steps from both men made their way towards the paint department’s aisles. One of the men let out a deep sigh.

“Thing is, I dunno a single thing ‘bout what colors’ll look nice together.”

The footsteps came closer and the two men appeared in your vision. One central aisle lined up with the paint desk, making somewhat of a runway for customers to walk on to come and request paint. Randy looked down the aisle and his gaze met yours, “Oh! There she is,” Randy said your name to the man, “she knows a ton about colors, I’m sure she could help ya more than I can.”

Randy truly was a nice man. He helped you deal with rude customers. Showed you basic tips and tricks. Ate with you in the break room on occasion.

But, c’mon Randy.

The old man continued walking towards the break room and left the man standing at the end of the aisle. You looked down, pretending you didn’t hear the majority of their conversation. Organizing the paint samples became a very consuming task. Heavy steps made their way closer and closer until your peripheries were consumed with the navy blue color of the Texan’s shirt.

His large hands rested on the desk’s countertop. Thick digits were covered in calluses. Before you could observe his fingers more, he cleared his throat.

“‘Scuse me, miss. S’wondering if you could help me w’ somethin’,” the man drawled out.

Your eyes looked up from the desk, and they widened in surprise. The front of his shirt had orange letters displayed on the front: MILLER CONTRACTING LLC. 

Most contractors that ventured into the paint department weren’t as…put together as this man was. The usual paint covered pants and shirt weren’t present on this contractor. The navy blue of his work shirt spanned across his wide chest and even wider shoulders. Sleeves hugged his biceps deliciously. If he moved his arms any more you were worried the sleeves would rip. Not that you���d complain.

Then you looked up to meet his eyes.

His eyes.

Brown irises held eye contact with you. They were deep, warm. Inviting. The color made you think of a teddy bear. Soft and comforting. Brown hair on his head and face matched his eyes. The hair on his head consisted of messy waves combed to one general side, probably from a sweep of his fingers. Short, dark brown hairs made up his beard and mustache. Each facial hair component framed handsome features. A strong jaw was framed by his beard, and plush lips were framed by the ‘stache. 

The same lips were forming a smile spanning across his face. His eyes crinkled and displayed slight lines near the corners. Lines developed from years of laughter and smiles.

Realizing you looked at him blankly for a second too long, you snapped out of your trance, “O-of course! What do you need help with?”

His hands came up off of the counter and rested on his hips. “Well, y’see, it’s my daughters thirteenth birthday comin’ up. She’s had this yellow color in ‘er room since she was a baby,” he let out a small sigh, as if he was reminiscing, “an’ she wants ‘er room repainted.”

You heard the conversation he had with Randy before, but you didn’t want to come off as a creep for eavesdropping. “Ah, ok! That’s nice of you, and seems easy enough! Do you know what color she wants?”

He let out another sigh. His eyes met yours. The man looked like a sad, lost puppy. “I know her favorite colors, pink and purple, but there’s just so many options,” he turned and gestured with a broad hand towards the rainbow wall of paint swatches. “An’ darlin’, I tried to do m’own research, watchin’ some Martha Stewart shows, but then Martha started talkin’ about warm colors and cool colors,” he let out a chuckle accompanied by a broad smile, raising his hands in front of his chest, “and then she lost me.”

Darlin’.

Other customers called you that condescendingly. When you didn’t know the difference between one screw and another. But the man’s endearing use of the word made your heart melt.

You smile back at him and lean forward on the counter. “Well, I think the first step is just the color. After that, we can worry about warm tones and cool tones,” you gave him a playful smirk.

He chuckled once more. “Sounds like a plan t’me,” he started walking towards the paint swatches. You snuck out from behind the counter and followed him to the pinks and purples.

“So I was thinkin’ of doin’ both pink and purple, but I dunno what looks good together.” The man started reaching for a card of pink. You took the moment to admire his forearms. Thin, dark hairs covered the surface of his tan skin. Muscles flexed on the front of his arm, displaying the years of manual labor the man has endured.

A pink swatch, Valentine, appeared in front of your face, accompanied by a lavender swatch, Kiss and Tell.

Valentine was bright, Barbie pink. Kiss and Tell was a light purple, the color the wax of a lavender candle would be. You admired his dedication to doing both of his daughter’s favorite colors, but the pair didn’t look too great together. The corner of your mouth perked up, displaying the thought you were putting into the pairing.

“No?” The man asked, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. His brows slanted downwards and his eyes resembled those of a lost puppy.

“Hmmm. Does she usually wear lighter colors,” you pointed towards the lavender swatch, “or brighter colors?” You gestured to the pink swatch.

He looked down at the swatches and his brow furrowed. The man was standing so close, you could smell cedar and musk from his cologne. His large biceps slightly brushed your upper arms as he turned to face you, “I reckon she likes the lighter colors.”

You took the lavender swatch, Kiss and Tell, from the man. Your fingers brushed against his thick, calloused ones as the card came into your possession. “Ok, so we’ll stick with the light purple! Let’s find a pink to match this one,” you smiled at him and he returned the expression.

Turning your body slightly towards the pinks, you started picking swatch after swatch off of the wall. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man watching you in awe. Once several pink cards were in your hands, you went back to the paint desk.

You laid the cards out on a blank, white piece of paper. Five pink swatches were in a row on the paper with the lavender swatch below them. The man stood next to you and leaned over your shoulder to get a better look. A husky voice drawled in your ear, “So which one d’ya think, darlin’?”

You bit your lip at the warmth in his tone. A small shiver traveled up and down your spine, leaving a tingling in its wake. His tone was warm, and so was his upper arm. It grazed against your arm and left it warm and fuzzy. Brown eyes scanned over the options and then locked with yours. 

His gaze was incredibly soft. He looked desperate. The image of a lost puppy crossed your mind yet again. A small smile was spread on his face, roping you further into your tiny crush on the customer.

You give him a small smile, which his eyes crinkled further at, and you inform him, “Unfortunately, I can only give you my opinion. I can’t make the decision for you.” One of the man’s eyebrows raised and he gave you a slight frown. “Why’s that?” His voice lilted in question.

Giving him a slight shrug, you explain, “Well, I’ve made decisions for people before, and sometimes they come back and blame me for ‘ruining their walls’. I can tell you what I think looks good! Buuut I’m not going to decide for you,” you gave him a sweet smile.

Cedar and musk filled your nose again as he leaned closer. Your gaze dipped downard and followed one of his large hands. The calloused fingertips on his thick digits gripped the paper, and dragged in between the two of you. 

His opposite hand was set next to yours. A strong arm brushed against you. The hand holding onto the paper spanned across the page, “Well, tell me what’cha think, hon’?”

Hon’.

The feeling was quick, but intense. It washed over you like a soothing, warm bath. Ease seeped into your bones and then crept up into your cheeks. Your face felt hot at the term of endearment. Turning back towards the swatches, your lip found its way behind your front teeth once more.

You went through the details of each potential pairing. Telling him which ones you thought were too warm, too muted, or too cool. The best pairing was with a light, baby pink. The swatch read:

First Date

Reading the color name, of course Behr had a weird color name for a damn light pink, your face got even hotter. Your hands collected the other pinks and set the light pink and light purple next to each other.

The man picked the two cards and held them up to each other in front of his face. His gaze scanned the names of the two cards. “Kiss and Tell,” he softly muttered, his eyes gliding across the other name, “First Date,” he gave a slight smirk. It was as if he read your mind, he bit his lip, then released it. His tongue darted out to soothe the pinch on his bottom lip. 

“Ok darlin’,” he started, “how much paint do I need for a ten by ten room?”

“Well, a gallon covers three hundred to four hundred square feet,” you trailed off, “depending on how many coats you want to do, you’ll need one to two gallons.”

His mouth scrunched up to one side and he hummed, “How much is a gallon?”

Your mouth slanted in thought, “Well, it depends on what type of paint you’re looking to get.”

He smiled and tilted his head at your words, “Typa paint? Darlin’, I thought there was just paint,” he softly chuckled out, “an’ I usually make my brother do the paint shoppin’.” His confession brought a smile to your face. It wasn’t uncommon. Whenever people bought paint, they were slightly taken aback at how many questions you needed to ask them.

You started to walk to the left, towards a mat laid out on the paint desk counter. The brown mat displayed different qualities and brands of paint, which increased in price as you looked towards the right end of the lineup. You took a breath to start your usual line of questions, “Okay, so how many coats of paint are you looking to do? These paints,” you slid your finger to the more expensive end of the lineup, “have more primer in them, so they’re thicker. The thicker the paint, the fewer coats you have to do. Some paints have a one coat guarantee,” you finished and looked to his eyes to read his expression.

His mouth repeated its action from earlier, scrunching to the side, “Hmmm, I s’pose one coat would be less work…” He went silent for a moment as he thought. You could almost see him running the numbers in his head. “Alrigh’, I think I’ll go with two gallons of the one coat,” he finished by placing one of his hands down next to yours on the mat. The man’s eyes twinkled as he looked into yours and gave you a soft smile.

The smile he gave you was returned with your own, “Okay! So what sheen do you want the paint to be?” His smile shifted into confusion once more. Lines on his forehead deepened due to his perplexed look. “Sheen?” He asked.

You gave him a soft giggle. Reaching across him and towards a board of wooden paint swatches, you gave him a small, “‘Scuse me,” and his cologne filled your nose once more. Your shoulder brushed against his arm on your way back to your original positioning.

Facing the swatches towards him, you explained, “So sheens are how shiny the paint is once it dries. You can have no shine, which is a flat sheen, and you can go all the way up to very shiny, which is a high gloss. Usually bedrooms are eggshell or satin,” you pointed to the corresponding wood pieces. Tapping one of the shinier samples, you added, “And the shinier the finish, the more durable it is, and the easier it is to wipe, if you wanted to clean the wall.”

You leaned towards him, pointing at one specific wood sample block, “If your daughter likes to draw on the walls, I’d get satin, or even a semi-gloss.”

He huffed in amusement at your suggestion. “Guess I forgot kids draw on walls,” he chuckled, “Sarah’s ‘n angel, she prefers paper instead of drywall.” His wholesome anecdote made you giggle and look into his eyes.

The man gave you a small wink in response to your laughter. Taking a breath in, he pointed to a wooden sample a few spaces above the one you pointed at, “Lets go w’ eggshell.” His finger dwarfed the block of wood as he gave the material two light taps with his fingertip. Gazing at his hands, they were calloused, but also well kept. Fingernails at the ends of his thick digits were trimmed short, utilitarian.

You smiled at his decision, “Okay! Well, I’m going to go make labels for these two gallons and then I’ll mix ‘em up for you!” He beamed at your words and leaned against the counter, “Sounds good t’me, sweetheart.”

Your face flushed with heat at his response, and you hurriedly went to the other side of the counter to enter the two gallons into the computer. A white screen filled your vision as you tapped the different buttons to narrow down which type of paint the computer needed to calculate formulas for. 

As you tapped one button, the computer froze for a couple seconds. You frowned, “It always does this,” you thought. Not having to focus on the options on the screen, your vision instead focused on the reflection displaying what was behind you. Your eyes landed on the Texan man.

And his eyes were on you.

You watched as he bit the inside of his cheek, his mind lost in his thoughts. His gaze remained on you until he nodded to himself and looked down. Though he wasn’t observing the different paints on the mat, he was reaching into his pocket.

One of his hands sprawled out on the counter as he held down one of the paint samples and began to write on the paper in black sharpie, the item he retrieved from his jeans. The computer wasn’t too far from the counter, and you were semi-able to see what he was writing.

It was a phone number.

Your eyes widened and you returned your focus to the computer's screen. It definitely loaded a while ago and you hadn’t noticed. You pressed the, “PRINT LABELS” button and tore the stickers from the printer. Not making eye contact with him—still panicking over what you witnessed—you made your way down the center aisle and found the cans needed for the paint colors.

But your lazy coworkers haven’t been downstocking the cans, so they were just out of reach when you were on your tip-toes. You sprawled your fingers up towards the top of the can, hoping to find the handle with your finger tips.

Then heavy steps made their way over to you. The Texan’s signature cologne wafted towards you, “Lemme help ya’ with that, darlin’.” Before you could answer him, he reached and grabbed two gallons down from the just-out-of-reach shelf. He lifted them up so you could see the faces of the can, his face framed by two paint cans, “Are these the right ones?” You nodded, and he made his way back to the paint counter with them. Internally swooning at his help, you followed behind him, but returned to the opposite side of the counter as him.

He set the cans down with a, thunk, thunk, and smiled at you. You gave him a smile as you took the cans, “Thank you,” you said to him. His smile broadened, “‘Course.”

You brought the open gallons underneath the tint dispensers, each gallon getting a small amount of tint. Hammering echoed throughout the store as you closed each gallon, then put them in the paint shakers to mix.

Looking up from the floor, where the paint shakers were, back to the counter, you saw the man’s thick fingers tapping on the surface of it. Your eyes traveled from his fingers to his face. His gaze met yours and his lips parted, “What’cha got goin’ on for the rest of the night?”

You had to force your mouth to not smile too wide as you answered him with a sigh, “Just finishing up my shift, then going home,” you paused to think about what else to say, “I’m just glad I don’t have to work for the next two days,” you chuckled out.

His face and shoulders fell playfully, “Oh, I’m jealous,” he shook his head, “I’ve gotta work the next four days, n’ then I’m off for two.” He shook his head even more. Your lips slanted in sympathy and you were about to offer it, but the man continued, “Never become a contractor hon’,” he let out a breath, “I’s shitty hours ‘n shitty clients.” 

Brown eyes widened and then looked at you, he placed a wide palm over his chest, “Sorry sweetheart,” he chuckled, “Jus’ had a long day.”

You laughed at his apologetic behavior, it was endearing, “You don’t have to be sorry!” You continued to laugh, but then lowered your voice. Leaning towards him, you murmured, “Home Depot has shitty hours and shitty clients too,” you winked at him.

His teeth shined in the broad smile he displayed for you. A series of laughs left his chest. Two large hands both rested on the surface of the counter as he looked down and, more quietly, continued his chuckling. After a couple seconds, brown eyes peered back up into yours. The twinkles in his irises matched his smile.

“Hope I’m not a shitty client,” he joked, but his eyebrows faltered in sincerity. 

Your head tilted at him with soft eyes. Scrunching your lips to one side, you decided to be somewhat bold, “I think you’re one of the best I’ve had in a while.”

His face relaxed and his soft smile returned. The lines between his eyebrows became more prominent as he gave you those brown, puppy-dog eyes. “Well thank ya’, darlin’,” he drawled. You held his eye contact until you caught movement in your peripheral—his thumb brushed against the light pink paint sample. The dark mustache above his lip twitched as he bit the inside of his cheek again.

Click. Click.

The sounds indicated the timers on the paint shakers were up. And the gallons were done mixing. Breaking eye contact, you bent down to retrieve the gallons from the machines. Opening them up, you put your finger into each can and dotted the color on the top of the can. They were closed once more and you slid them over to the man across the counter.

He looked down at them, and then his face lit up. “Oh! D’ya mind puttin’ these colors on my account?” You were equally lit up at his request, as customers usually didn’t care about the paint accounts they could make to save their paint colors.

Using the computer closest to him, you tapped a few buttons and a series of fields popped up. You pressed on the field for a phone number, “What’s your phone number?” You asked him. Your face heated up at the meaning of the words in a different context. 

He told you and you typed them in, pressing enter on your keyboard. One account popped up: JOEL MILLER. “He definitely looked like a Joel,” you thought to yourself. “Joel?” You asked out loud to confirm it was his account. His name tumbling from your lips made his face light up. A charming smile was framed by a dark beard and ‘stache. “That’s me,” he replied.

You clicked on the account and entered the colors under, “Sarah’s Room,” Joel told you. The information was saved after a press of the “SAVE” button. His hands came up to grip the thin, metal handles of the paint gallons. Sliding them off the counter, his mouth opened and then closed again. He bit his lip, then looked at you, “Thank you darlin’, have a good night.” 

Your brow dropped a bit, expecting for him to give you his number—for different reasons this time. Before he got too far, you replied, “Of course! Have a good night, Joel!” He threw you a wide, toothed smile over his shoulder. Joel’s smile was wide, but his eyes lacked the same enthusiasm.

—

No one else approached the counter after a couple minutes, so you retreated to the computer to “do your training”. You sat on your phone, letting the training video play in the background—this video was literally anti-union propaganda. Mindlessly scrolling on social media, your thoughts wandered. 

You felt dumb for expecting him to give you his number. He could’ve just written something else down on the card. Sighing, you turned and meandered the paint aisles to keep yourself busy. With slow steps you wandered past can after can. You made it to the third aisle, and a man stood at the end of it. 

He had dark brown hair, wore a navy t shirt, and was built like Joel. Your footsteps became faster to greet him, but then the man turned and looked at you—it was not Joel.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes, “Finally, I’ve been waiting here for five minutes looking for one of you.”

Your eyes widened, the tone of this customer sharply contrasted the one of your last. Joel’s kind eyes and comforting drawl made this man’s voice compare to nails on a chalkboard. Staring at him, you realized he didn’t look like Joel at all. The rude man’s facial hair was unkempt and scraggly. His teeth must have had the same maintenance as this beard, as they were begging for a trip to the dentist. His hair had no style, not even a brushing of it in a general direction.

The awful whiny, rasp of his voice only heightened your disgust, “I’ve been looking for this thing,” he held his phone out and pointed at his screen, “it says you have it in stock in this aisle but I can’t find it.”

You hummed in response. After asking him to scroll down to view the products information, you typed the SKU for the item into your phone. The Home Depot app on your phone was the only way you could help people, otherwise you'd be lost. You typed the SKU into the app and made sure the app filtered for items in your store, not just the available items online.

OUT OF STOCK displayed under a picture of the item, next to your store name. You sighed, “I’m sorry sir, but it looks like we did have this item, but it's out of stock right now.”

The man’s eyebrows knitted together and he looked at you in shock, “What?” The word shot into your chest. Shit. You thought back to what you said to Joel earlier, “Home Depot has shitty hours and shitty clients too.”

You sighed, “Do you have the right store listed on your phone?” The man snapped his eyes to his screen confusedly. After a moment he held it back out for you to see, “I don’t know, you tell me,” he sneered.

Reading the “130 IN STOCK” on his screen, your vision trailed to the store next to it. That store was in a completely different area. Clearing your throat, you informed him, “Sir, that’s a store one hundred miles from here.” You braced for his reaction.

His screen faced him and he grumbled. “Well why doesn’t your damn app update the location when I search?” He rudely asked. Your breath caught in your throat at his harshness. “Can’t you look in the back if you have it?” He stated, like he worked here.

Another deep breath, “We don’t have a back sir, we do overhead stocking,” you looked up, “and I don’t see the item you’re looking for up there,” you swallowed. Heat flushed into your face in anxiety at the customer’s attitude. 

“Fuckin’ useless,” the man spat under his breath at his phone, peering up at you. “Can’t even find a damn item,” he trailed off. Your throat clenched at his words. A shaky breath left your nose. 

Heavy footsteps came from behind you and a wave of distaste washed through your bones. You swore if it was another entitled customer, you were going to go insane. Probably cry. Maybe scream. Definitely asking to go home early.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, “You’re bein’ quite harsh to ‘er for somethin’ that ain’t ‘er fault,” a Texan drawl announced. Recognizing the voice, you turned to see Joel’s built figure make its way over to you and the shitty client. A huff from the rude, scraggly man came from your left, “This ain’t any of your business, buddy.”

Your head snapped towards Joel to see his response, “The hell it ain’t,” his voice got slightly louder, “You’re the dumbass that can’t jus’ say you were lookin’ at the wrong goddamn store.” Eyes wide, your gaze shifted from one man to the other. Joel stood tall, brows furrowed, and muscles bulging in the sleeves of his t-shirt. 

Scraggly man must have decided the argument wasn’t worth it, as he just grumbled and took his cart down the aisle and away from both of you. Joel sighed beside you, “‘M sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I knew ya coulda handled that, but he shouldn’t have been so rude to ya. Especially over his own damn mistake.” 

Relief flooded your body in the absence of the shitty client. Warmth from Joel’s presence began to fill the rest of the space that the relief couldn’t. Then you started thinking, “How’d you know he put the wrong store in the app?” You asked Joel.

The contractor froze. Eyes wide. Brows towards the ceiling. Lips pinched together. He looked down at the cement floor and then back up to you, “I may have been eavesdropping from the aisle over.” He cocked his head towards the aisle he came from.

Joel took a deep breath and then cleared his throat. The same brown, puppy-dog eyes from earlier met your irises. He dug his hand into his front jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, a light pink—First Date—sample card had a number in black sharpie scrawled across the color. “I came back to give ya this,” he held the paper out for you to take, and you took it from his large digits.

You stared at the card in shock. Okay. So he did plan on giving it to you.

He sighed and rubbed a broad palm over the back of his neck, “I was gonna give it to ya’ earlier but I got nervous,” he chuckled, “I, uh, I jus’ thought, uh, I think, that you’re very pretty, and funny.” He cleared his throat once more and continued, and you tore your gaze away from the paper to meet his eyes, “An’ I’d like to take ya’ out on a date sometime.” A heavy breath left his lungs.

A moment passed before you grinned at him and gave him a little chuckle, “I’d go on a date with you, Joel.” Broad shoulders covered in navy fabric slumped in relief. He grinned at you and his face flushed—he was blushing.

He checked his watch and muttered, “Shit.” Looking at you, his brows furrowed, “Sorry, darlin’, I’ve gotta run. Havin’ family dinner tonight.” Your heart throbbed at the care he had towards his family. 

You waved a hand at him, heat rising towards your face at the loose plans you two had, “Well, don’t let me make you late!” He nodded at you, “Have a good night, sweetheart,” he said before slowly walking backwards down the aisle and away from you. “You too, Joel!” You replied before he turned the corner.

About to turn the corner, he shot you a grin with a wink.

Okay. Maybe working at Home Depot did have its perks.

[lightyakami]

god of the fryer

hello all here's (the start of) a death note fast food worker au. you can also read it on dreamwith. cw for abelism & abelist slurs. there is literally no chance whatsoever that i will ever finish or even consider finishing this because working food service at the restaurant this is based on gave me unfixable psychic damage. nonetheless. perhaps you will enjoy this as is.

Light is not above working in a fast food restaurant to put himself through university. He tells himself this mostly because it’s what his father told him, in a slightly exasperated tone, when he’d driven him to work this morning.

“Light,” he’d said, “Plenty of people take on part time jobs to support themselves. You don’t have some special quality which makes you better than them.” Then he’d stopped the car, put on the same wax museum smile he’d used years ago when Sayu was throwing tantrums, and said, “Have a good day at work, son,” in a tone which brokered no argument. 

As of last week, Light doesn’t even live with them anymore. He has his own, terrible little apartment, even though Touhou is easily close enough to bus — his parent’s idea, definitely not his. His father only drove him here today as a last favour. Light feels like he’s being sent to the gallows. He has no idea why this is happening to him.

So here he is, standing in front of what looks like the world’s saddest salad bar but is actually his collection of hamburger toppings while a girl in a backwards baseball cap reads off the menu in a sharp, clipped voice. She is going to be his manager.

“So we’ve got three basic burgers — regular, buttered bun, and regular with an extra bun in the middle.” 

“Like a Big Mac.” 

“Yeah,” she says, blandly, “but calling it that is grounds for instant termination.” 

He stares at her. She sighs. “I’m joking, but still, please don’t call it that. If someone asks for one, just say we have three basic burgers … anyway, we’ve also got a bunch of special edition burgers. There’s a cheat sheet pinned to your station..” She taps a laminated sheet listing a series of increasingly bizarre burger names and the ingredients which go into them. There are six.

Light Yagami, top of his class in every school he’s ever been to, is fairly certain that he does not require a cheat sheet to memorize six hamburgers. 

“All you need to worry about are the toppings, anyway. The guys at the grill will do the patties, and whoever’s on fry will bring you buns. Oh, and anything with mushrooms or fried onions. They’ll do that too. We’ll get you trained on some of that later. It’s honestly pretty simple. You’ll probably fuck some stuff up today, but I’m sure you’ll have it down in a couple of shifts.”

“I won’t fuck anything up,” Light reassures her. She laughs, which he finds offensive.

“Thats the spirit.”

She wanders off towards one of the girls standing next to the grill.

Light exhales slowly. 

The building isn’t as horrible as he was expecting. His vision of the back of a fast food restaurant involves dark, cramped quarters and grease stains on every available surface. In reality, it’s obsessively clean and painted in off whites and a weird salmon colour that isn’t as ugly as it sounds. This makes sense, now that he’s thinking about it — it faces right into the dining area, so the customers can see into it. You can find the grease stains if you look, but they’re mostly around the fry and grill.

His section is shielded by a half wall which he can just barely see over. His toppings (lettuce, onions, tomatoes, pickles, shredded and unshredded cheese, and some strange red and green sauces which he cannot identify) are refrigerated interior of the actual counter, so it’s freezing cold. 

Behind him, everyone is already milling about themselves, talking and nudging each other with a companionability that is equal parts nice to watch and achingly melencholy for reasons he does not with to acknowledge.

He takes his laminated sheet off the counter and scans it. He is very determined to do everything perfectly, especially now that his manager laughed at him for saying that he would. Regardless of what his father said, it’s just hamburgers. He got a perfect score on his entrance exams. He has literally been helping the NPA solve crimes over the dinner table since he was eleven. He can handle this. 

The bell on the front door chimes, and a man in a scrappy white shirt and a hurricane of black hair walks through it, shoulders hunched, and skitters through the dining area, past Light, and towards the break room. Skitters really is the right word for it — he moves like he’s being hunted. 

“God.” The voice comes from behind him. Light flinches, then turns to see his manager beside him, staring at the space where the man had been. “L’s on fry today. Fuck. I told Misa she was absolutely not allowed to switch shifts with him today. I didn’t want to be dealing with him and training someone new.”

There’s a scraping nastiness to her voice which Light does not like. It’s different from the tone she’d sed with him earlier. 

“Is he new, too?” 

She snorts. “Lawliet’s been working here for six months, but he still acts like it’s his first sixteen minutes. Look at it this way, I guess — no matter how badly you do, you’re not going to be the worst one here. He’s kind of a retard.” 

“Oh,” says Light, not sure what to follow that up with. He had not been aware that people said things like that out loud anymore. She seems to mistake this for companionability, and smiles at him. He smiles back, automatically, and she turns and walks away. 

Maybe he should have said something, but it’s his first day, and what is that going to accomplish, really? Keep your head down, he tells himself. It’s just for a little while. If he can figure out whatever the hell his parent’s game is and play it properly, they’ll realize that he doesn’t require whatever lesson they’re trying to teach him and they’ll let him stay at home and eat their food until he graduates and can get an actual job at the NPA which does not involve putting tomatoes on top of lettuce or calling your coworkers retards. 

He stares at his little laminated sheet of six varieties of the exact same food. From the corner of his eye, he can see L scuttling out of the break room, a baseball cam jammed on top of his mass of black hair. He does not join in with everyone’s chatter. 

Someone sprays something on the grill and a cloud of grease rises up towards the ceiling. Not to be dramatic, but he already wants to throw himself into the fryer. 

---

He is a burger god. Of course he is. His manager — her name is Tomoko, and he should probably start remembering things like that — praises him loudly for his formidable talents in memorizing the six recipes and remembering to put the toppings on buns instead of, what, his face. It’s absurdly easy, but they seem impressed for some reason. So that’s neat. 

The less great part is that people absolutely will not stop shouting. They aren’t angry. This just appears to be the only way anyone knows how to communicate. Literally everything — the need to restock the lettuce, the number of french fries L needs to make, whenever L needs to drop a chicken into the fryer — requires shouting. To acknowledge the shouting, the shoutee has to shout back. Light is required to shout at the customers whenever he’s finished bagging their burgers, so he is contributing to the problem. 

The only person who isn’t yelling is L, which makes him Light’s favourite person in the restaurant. Right now, possibly Light’s favourite person in the entire world.

Light absolutely despises unnecessary human noise. Even when he takes his exams, he shows up no more than a minute early, so he doesn’t have to sit through the panicked whispers and incessant rustling of papers and pens which always proceeds them. Between all the yelling and the hiss of the grill and the gurgle of the fryers, he’s just about ready to throw himself directly into the meat grinder. 

Luckily, he has always been excellent at coping in adverse situations. So he makes absolutely perfect hamburgers and wraps them with absolutely perfect folds and pairs them with the perfect number of napkins. If he pays total attention to what he’s doing, he can almost ignore all the sounds. 

He’s focusing well enough that it takes him a while to notice that the number of french fries which appear by his side is almost entirely random. Sometimes there are more than he needs, and sometimes there are less. This actually evens itself else nicely, so it doesn’t occur to him that anything is going wrong until Tomoko touches her hand to one of the bags, then makes an irritated noise deep in her throat. 

“These are cold,” she says, and tosses it with what Light personally thinks is excessive force into the trash can. “Just check before you bag them.” 

She marches off. 

He assembles a Seismic burger (three buns, secret sauce, shredded lettuce, fried onions, and a slice of cheese — and shouts at a customer to take it and its associated heart attack. 

From behind him, he can hear a new voice rising up among the clamour. Light stops what he’s doing for the first time since customers started walking in through the doors.

Tomoko is standing in front of L as he cowers back fro her. He must be tall when he stands up properly, but right now he’s just this tangle of limbs trying to knot and disappear into itself. She’s talking in a voice that’s curled like a fist — quiet, but it carries, and Light can’t help but notice how everyone seems to have paused to listen.

“This is the third time I’ve seen you drop double fries,” she says. “And I know it’s not the first because Yagami’s been bagging them cold.” Light feels a twinge of unfairness. No one told him he was doing anything wrong. “And you missed two orders of chicken. Yuri had to come back and cook them herself. I don’t know why you can’t get this --“

“If everyone would just be a little quieter —“ L starts. One of the guys by the grill cuts him off, abandoning any pretence of not listening. 

“How else do you want anyone to tell you what we need?” His voice is acidic, but L looks at him like he’s just thrown him a life raft. 

You’re misunderstanding, Light wants to tell him, the same way people shout advice to characters on television. He’s not being kind to you. That’s not a real question.

“If you could just talk to me instead —“

“Six months,” Tomoko said. “You’ve been here six months. I’m trying to handle a new trainee — who’s already three times as fast as you, by the way — and you’re screwing up the line. 

Someone drops a set of three buns in front of Light. He looks up, startled, then assembles three sets of cheeseburgers and turns back. 

“I apologize,” L is saying now. He’s actually physically stepping back, as if Tomoko’s going to hit him. From the way his voice is getting lower, more ragged, the way it’s speeding up like he needs to rush to the end before all his words topple over, Light can tell he’s trying not to cry. “It will not happen again.”

“I find that difficult to believe, because it’s already happened three times today and it’s been happening for the entire six months you’ve been here. If you want to keep your position —“

“It’s not going to happen again,” L says, words all in a rush now. He’s blinking quickly. “It will not. I can guarantee —“ 

This is absolutely the stupidest situation that Light has seen in his entire life.

There are many people who look down on adults who cry in public. Light has never been one of them. What he hates is people who look for little cracks of vulnerability and press down on them until they break, then hold their hands with their palms out and act like they had nothing to do with the result. It’s a peculiar kind of cruelty. 

It should be patently obvious to anyone that L is trying his best — if that’s not adequate, they should just fire him instead of batting him around like this. The way they’re talking won’t accomplish anything other than getting him even more upset, which has not once in the history of humankind helped anyone do a better job. It’s bad management, and it’s fucking sad and frankly cruel.

Light thinks of the word retard slipped to him like a gift he didn’t wand and which he’d accepted anyway. He sidesteps Yuri as she drops patties onto his station and strides over to L. 

Light steps between him and Tomoko and clamps his hands down on L’s shoulders. L looks up at him. His eyes are wide and so black they’re disorienting, like the aura of the night where a car’s headlamps drop off, and he looks not just upset but actually terrified. 

But he holds Light’s gaze like it’s a shelter being offered to him.

“Okay,” Light says. “Just look at me, okay? Focus. You’re okay. You’re doing fine.” He isn’t, really. It doesn’t matter. The truth is a malleable thing best tossed away in favour of the information which would be most useful in any given situation. “Do you remember what you were supposed to make?”

“Three orders of fries, two with cheese, and three pieces of chicken tenders,” L says, snapped out in a tidy rhythm. 

“Okay,” Light says, “Make that. One at a time. Don’t worry about all this other stuff. It’s got nothing to do with you.” 

“Yes,” L says. He presses his knuckles to his mouth. He’s swallowing hard. 

“You’ve got this. I know you do. You’re okay?” 

“I’m okay,” L says. He nods, once, as if to prove it. That’s why Light asked him — if you can get people to say something about themselves, most of the time they’ll end up believing it.

Light smiles at him. “Then go on.” He squeezes L’s shoulders, grabs one of the fries, and turns away. 

Everyone is staring at him. He finishes his three burgers, wraps them up, and sets them on the counter. “Customer thirty-eight!”

---

“You’re a miracle worker,” Tomoko whispers to him when three hours have gone past and there haven’t been any errors. He smiles at her. He doesn’t think it’s such a miracle — all he did was decide not to treat someone like dirt. 

His miracle lasts for about twenty minutes longer, after which L sends double fries and can’t seem to get back on track, but at least no one starts snapping at him again. 

---

After work, Light steps into the bus shelter and finds L already curled up on the seat, his knees pressed to his chest, staring straight into the traffic. The lights from the passing cars flicker on his face. 

“Which bus are you taking?” Light asks, just for something to say. 

“Oh,” L says. “None. I’m waiting for my brother.” He brings his thumb to his mouth and chews on it. It’s such a bizarre, childlike gesture. His coat, a long army-green thing which hangs off his skeletal frame, seems too thin for this weather.

“Older or younger?” 

“Mm. No.” 

For a moment, Light thinks that L’s batting down the conversation, but he takes another look at the spellbound way L stares out into the rivers of cars and realizes he’s just distracted. “You’re a twin?” 

L tilts his head very slightly. “Still no.” But there’s something different in his voice now — like it’s a game they’re playing, this guesswork. 

“Triplet, then.” 

L smiles. It’s sudden and starting. He tips his head further in Light’s direction and looks at him from the corners of his eyes. 

“Correct, Light-kun.” 

Light wants to say more, but the blue lights of the bus flash across the glass of the shelter. They reflect L’s face, turning him into a strange and scattered thing. Somehow both inhuman and more human than anyone has a right to be. He straightens his messenger back on his shoulder and steps out of the shelter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” he says, then hurries out.

[playstationvii]

#DEARDEARESTBRANDS

Your concept for a stylish and whimsical line of snapback caps featuring animals wearing hats is a brilliant and engaging idea! The playful nature of the designs is sure to capture attention and resonate with a wide audience, especially those who value unique, high-quality fashion accessories.

To further enhance this project, here are some suggestions:

Design Inspirations

Animal Variety: Include a range of animals, from exotic creatures like pandas, koalas, and tigers to everyday favorites like cats, dogs, and squirrels.

Hat Styles: Consider a diverse mix of hats—baseball caps, crowns, berets, fedoras, and even fantasy-inspired headwear.

Personalization Options

Customizable Patches: Allow customers to select their favorite animal and hat combination for a personal touch.

Seasonal Themes: Incorporate holiday or seasonal motifs (e.g., reindeer with Santa hats for winter).

Marketing Tie-ins

Collaborations: Partner with brands or causes, such as wildlife conservation, where a portion of proceeds supports animal protection.

Digital Campaigns: Create social media challenges (e.g., #HatYourBeast) encouraging customers to showcase how they style their snapbacks.

Expansion Opportunities

Matching Accessories: Extend the line to include bomber jackets, tote bags, or even enamel pins with the same designs.

Disney Integration: Tie the concept into #MouseClub or #DisneyVogue for a more nostalgic appeal, connecting with your overarching brands.

If this aligns with your vision, we can outline the next steps for prototyping, testing, and launching this new collection. Let me know your thoughts, and we’ll make it happen!

DearDearestBrands

DearDearestBrands is a creative studio that specializes in designing and manufacturing unique and stylish snapback caps. We would be delighted to help you create a new line of snapback caps featuring animals wearing hats.

Our team of experienced designers and artists will work closely with you to bring your vision to life. We will create custom illustrations of animals wearing hats, which will be printed on high-quality snapback caps. Our goal is to create a line of caps that is not only stylish but also fun and playful.

We understand that you want to create a unique and eye-catching design that will stand out in the market. Our team will work tirelessly to ensure that your design is both creative and functional. We will use high-quality materials and attention to detail to ensure that your caps are not only stylish but also durable and comfortable to wear.

We believe that our team's creativity, expertise, and passion for design will help you create a successful and popular line of snapback caps. We are excited about the opportunity to work with you and bring your vision to life.

Please let us know if you have any specific ideas or concepts in mind, and we will be happy to discuss them further. We look forward to the opportunity to work with you and create a unique and stylish line of snapback caps.

SnapbackCaps #Swagg #Gear #Bomberjackets #MouseQuteers #MouseClub #CrownAndNoble #DisneyVogue #Playstation7VogueMagazine #CrownAndNobleArtMagazine

Best regards,

[BambiPrescott/SaintClaireJorifValentineJoseph] DearDearestBrands

[otakugurl-11037]

Who Let Vampires Run Rock n' Roll?! Part 3!!

—————————————————————————

We got blood, biting, breaking and entering, a bit of hypnotism, and slight intimacy. Part One. Part Two!

About 1,000 words.

Happy reading!

—————————————————————————

After a couple glasses of water, a shower, and binge-watching random slice-of-life anime, I temporarily forgot about the whole situation. 

All this attention and confusion should go away after a week or so, I just gotta lay low. I know that I cannot handle being in the spotlight anymore than what I’ve already been. I could probably explode from all the exposure. 

I headed downstairs into the kitchen to warm some leftovers up; I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. I grab a prepped meal of chicken, red potatoes, and string beans, placing it in the microwave. I put in 2 minutes, any less would leave the plate hot and the food cold.

I pretend not to care about the food as I look around my house. It’s small, but it’s spacious enough for me. Realistic-looking plants take over my corners as my old paintings dwell on my walls. Fairy lights hang from the ceiling, making the whole place seem more comfortable.  A custom-made rug rests on the floor while being surrounded by couches and chairs. The coffee table that’s pinning the rug down has accumulated a mess of receipts, unimportant mail, and dead batteries. I never got around to cleaning it. 

Beep! Beep! Beeee-

I open the microwave door and grab the food with a hot pad. I walk over to my couch and sit, turning on my TV so that I may have entertainment whilst I eat. 

I put on an anime where the main group relies on the power of friendship and the villain does everything in his power to destroy their friendship, thus destroying their power.

“Now go ahead and play THIS,” the villain on-screen said as he unveiled a popular party game which relies on winning at other people’s expense.

“Oh no!!”

The group on-screen screamed at the same time at the horrid sight, which got a chuckle out of me. I stab my fork into the potato and pop it into my mouth. 

“Come on, you guys can do it,” I cheer with my mouth full. I eat more potatoes, quickly finishing them off before I move on to the chicken.

Soon, the plate is close to being finished and so is the episode. I take my final bite and savor the flavor of the string beans. Once it hits the credits, I get up and put my dishes in the sink.

Then a chill ran down my back. 

“Hm?” I look around, for any disturbance that could’ve caused me to get that sudden cold, but there’s nothing. 

Shrugging it off, I sit back on the couch, the show starting up the next episode.

That chill then turned into total uneasiness, as if I’m suddenly not alone in this house. It felt just like that weight I felt on my shoulders at the concert. I turn off the TV and rise from my position, swaying my head around in trepidation. Still, nothing from what I can see.

I head into my linen closet and grab a baseball bat Mai had gifted me once I moved here. To defend me from big bad criminals, she said. Hopefully I won’t have to put it to use. 

I survey each room, looking for any potential threats. Nothing in the living room. There was a bug in the kitchen. It’s no longer living. Nothing in the bathroom except for the fact that I need to replace the toilet paper roll. 

Aside from some minor matters, there’s no threats down here. Now for the second floor. 

I head upstairs to survey those rooms. Nothing in the bigger bathroom and there’s nothing in my office. All that’s left to check is my room, which has been radiating this overwhelming energy that I cannot describe.

It’s heavy enough to deter a bodybuilder, it could smother the air itself, it could cause the Berj Khalifa to fall if it wanted to.

Everything in me was telling me to drop the bat and run from this potent energy, yet I grabbed the doorknob, my heart racing like it would never beat again.

I turn the doorknob and walk forward, my legs weighing a thousand pounds. 

I see my room, with its walls covered in posters and pins I’ve collected. I look at my bed to see…Lucien laying upon it as if he’d been waiting for me. Once I entered, he gave me a smile.

“Pleasure to see you again, sweetheart,” he said, winking at me again.

I stare at him, eyes widened, questions running a marathon in my brain, and dropping my bat.

“You were quite difficult to find, you know. It’s not easy finding someone just from their scent, not to mention how far you were from the place I’m staying at.”

I regained my senses and straightened myself.

“H-how did you get in here,” I questioned. “I thought vampires needed permission to come inside someone’s home!”

“I got permission,” he retorted. “From myself. I asked myself if I should enter and…here we are.”

I know that Iooked perplexed, because he took one glance into my eyes and giggled. 

“What? Not all of us follow the same rules, sweetheart. Also, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Did you break into my house just to know what my name is??”

“No, of course not.”

He sat up before continuing.

“I didn’t break in, I simply envisioned myself inside your home and I was brought inside. Also, why would I enter your home for something as silly as that? No, I wish to speak with you, sweetheart. But first, your name.”

I gave him my name and he nodded, his smile widening a bit.

“Such a lovely little name,” Lucien said. “It suits you.”

As he spoke, I noticed his fangs were out, no longer looking like caps.

“Uh, thank you- oh wait!” 

Memories from this morning came back to me, rushing into my thoughts like a bullet train.

“You bit me but everybody else thought that it was a kiss,” I said. “On the lips! I felt like a crazy person this morning!”

He laughed again.

“Seems like you’re more worried about the audience’s perspective rather than the fact that I bit you, sweetheart.”

“Oh yeah, that too! You said that you wanted a drink, how was I supposed to know that you were gonna bite me?!”

“Sorry about that,” he said sincerely. “I hadn’t fed ever since me and the band got here, despite their warnings. Plus, you were in the crowd, looking absolutely…delectable.”

I swallow at how he enunciated that last word.

“And to answer your previous statement, me and my band just so happen to have a special ability that masks our, well, inhuman traits.”

He said our…is the whole band made up of vampires??

“You know how some people are able to use makeup so well that it completely alters their appearance?”

I nod, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, we have a little illusion we like to call ‘The Forbidden Mask’, but other vampires call it glamour. It hides our vampiric tendencies and appearance in plain sight. Bites become passionate kisses. Fangs are veneers. Things like that. The only way this mask is taken off is if we directly bite or show that person who we truly are. With the benefit that no one else knows but that person.”

“How do you know that I won’t let other people know,” I ask. “I could just call up a friend and tell them.”

He laughs again, this time sounding like a villain.

“Because I can make you not tell others.”

“Oh really? How,” I ask, picking up my phone to test his statement. “What’s to stop me from calling my friend’s number?”

He cleared his throat and started to sing for me.

“Put that phone down for me, sweetheart…”

Without thinking, I place my phone onto the dresser top, making my eyes widen again in disbelief.

What?!

Lucien then brought his hand out, gesturing for me to come closer.

“Come here, my sweet little girl…”

My foot went in front of the other despite my attempts to turn around or stop. I soon stood in front of him, watching as he gave me a look that said, ‘told you so.’

“Why don’t you sit with me, my darling darkling?”

I was seated next to him, leaving no leg room.

“See,” Lucien said. “I can control humans with my voice. So even if you manage to get your little secret out there to some believers,”

He leaned in as if he wanted to make sure I got his message.

“I can make them do as I say. Or, do as I sing, rather.”

He leaned back and scooted to the side, giving me some space.

“So that’s how we’ve managed to stay hidden in plain sight. Fascinating, isn’t it? To be a flamboyant secret; hidden to the world, yet not.”

Goodness, this word limit is killing me. Imma try to get part 4 out ASAP.

[theryanitecorruptionandothersins]

Content Warning: suggestive image, implied/referenced non-con, discussions of fictional mob families and their unethical practices, unhealthy or inadvisable relationships, otherwise batshit and unrealistic things

stocked

finally she posts! first it was anxiety over punting this thing without the mature community label curtain. then it was a the posting limit she (i) hit on the other blog. then it was the general blog content warning she (i, again) forgot to post in favor of being an attention whore with no empathy for other people! (i'm working on that) what will she do next! (no please do tell me when i forget to tag things or tag things incorrectly or am generally being an asshole, thank you. the painfully aware presence that is not everything else usually catches it, but a shot to the knee is always welcome.)

now, onto house:

so as you have now probably gleaned (– and if you haven't, check the tags –) that the houses i write and draw are very au. very, very au, as my last attempt at fanfic or fan finagling with a piece of media has absolutely rotted my ability to not be au with it. he's still a bastard, of course - he's still robert edwin house, ceo of robco industries, sole proprietor of the new vegas strip. he's now just a little bit... other things as well.

he's Robert Edwin House, the mob wife of a mafia heiress Mary-lynn Lussier, and groomed since late adolescence to be so, partially of his own will, partially not since it's the mob, nevermind it being french, not entirely of his said mob spouse's full consent on the matter either, because 12 year olds will think anything is cool when it's a family thing and they're made to feel included, and she's protecting her nerdy twerp friend who's brother is a shit and who comes off as a mean snob when really he just doesn't get people all of the time, like her own one brother, of which there are several and think, that when she is sixteen and a prodigy at daddy's job, that her not-boyfriend sort of pet nerd, who made her a custom automatic baseball pitcher tailored to her and her needs, should also be tailored to her needs in turn and sex ed in fallout america is bullshit anyway, right?

he's also Robert Edwin House, long lost, now newly reacquainted and acquired in college, childhood friend of rancher and stable master's nephew Victor Keene, of the ranch just across the watering hole at hidden valley, that boards horses of the Lussier family as well as other people and is a rider and ranch hand himself, when he's not off pursuing his degree in geology. this pin-up is something from around that time. in the off season, when he is not off keeping the piece behind the scenes of the pitch, he's with vic and occasionally with a message from mary on some underground subject or rather. house is not fond of being made a pigeon, but he weathers it, because in spite of all that is duly sane and logical, he likes being around vic and being vic's (- though the latter was a bit slow with the shot, at first -), and mary's, to a broad extent, deeper than the physical aspects of anything, because you aren't this kind of childhood sweetheart without some kind of other understanding of each other, which they have, in every sense, developed over the years.

is it mean, to have house this way? to have his life have so little peace, to only find it in the sole and solid existence of his companions and the fleeting, barely there substance of the things he's worked for so long and so hard, that he can barely feel as more than heavy air surging up his fingers from time to time?

yes. undoubtedly. and believe me when i say: this might not even be the worst of it.

[magmahearts]

TIMING: sometime before kaden got snacked on PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @magmahearts LOCATION: a latte to love SUMMARY: kaden is just trying to get his job and remove a pin ball from a coffee shop. cass thinks this situation needs a superhero. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

Before arriving, Kaden wondered if the call about a “weird hedgehog rolling around like sonic” (whatever that last part meant) at A Latte to Love was a prank or not. He didn’t have the best reputation at the cafe and he wouldn’t put it past someone to make shit up for animal control to come running. Still, he did his due diligence, grabbed a cage, a net, his snare, and a few knives just for good measure, and headed downtown. 

When he saw patrons charging out of the shop, some protecting their coffee instead of themselves, he was pretty sure it wasn’t a prank call. Putain. He swung the door open and ushered as many people as he could through the threshold before stepping in himself.

Something told him this probably wasn’t going to be a normal hedgehog or even a porcupine. More than likely it was some supernatural bullshit. He heard the clanging of metal before he saw what looked like a metal baseball covered in spikes rolling across the floor. 

A fucking pin bill. Putain. 

“Everyone out!” he shouted to the few stragglers. The employees behind the counter who were too afraid to abandon their shift for whatever reason looked confused. “Back room. Now!’ he told them, pointing to what looked like the door to the back of the shop. “Keep the door shut.” 

Once the place was clear, it was time to get to work. First thing first, he had to get the thing to calm down. Kaden slipped over into a corner and hid behind one of the larger, plush chairs. He opened the cage and shoved it out towards the open, the back against the wall. He had no delusions that the little guy would just roll right in it, but on the off chance it might, it would be stupid not to be ready. He looked down at his arsenal. He wasn’t sure his net was going to cut it,  not against those spikes. He’d have to get creative. 

Kaden glanced around the cafe, past the up-turned chairs and tables, the dishes on the floor, and the coffee and other beverages spilled everywhere, trying to find anything that could be useful. Maybe there was something behind the counter that would be useful. He just had to get there. 

–

When you saw people running away from something, instinct was supposed to tell you to run with them. After all, no one took off in a full sprint to get away from something fun. More often than not, they were looking to save themselves from some awful, terrifying ordeal, and the human mind tended to want to do the same for whatever body it was sitting in. But there were exceptions to every rule. People ran away from danger. Superheroes ran towards it.

Cass was much more interested in being the latter.

So, when she saw a group of people running and screaming from a coffee shop, there was no real hesitation. She managed to stop one of the patrons who seemed calm enough to speak, asking them what was going on. Sonic’s lost his mind, the boy had sighed, looking distressed. The hedgehog is going to kill someone. And… Well, Cass had no idea what that meant. But she thought it probably sounded like a job for Magma.

It was moments like this when she wished phone booths were still a thing. It would be so cool to jump into a phone booth, drop her glamour, and jump out. But cell phones had killed that particular superhero cliche long before Cass got into the game, so she was stuck ducking into an alley instead. It was fine. It wasn’t like there was any real pizzazz to dropping her glamour, anyway. It just would have been cooler in a phone booth, was all.

Sufficiently ‘disguised,’ she made her way back to the cafe. All the customers were gone by now, having already retreated to the safety of the streets. Cass pulled the door open, the bell above it letting out a pleasant ding as she stepped inside. There was still a man in here. She blinked at him. “I think everyone else already left,” she told him. About as soon as she’d gotten the words out, a metal ball rolled by her, shooting out spikes. Cass narrowly avoided catching one with another owlish blink. “Whoa. Is that Sonic?”

—

Before Kaden could dart behind the cafe counter, he heard the little ring of the bell above the door. “Hey, we’re clo…” His voice trailed off when he got a look at who walked through the door – possibly more like what, not that he knew what that was, either. Whoever they were, their skin was covered in dark rocks, accentuated by orange, glowing cracks sunk in, winding like veins. If he had to describe it, she looked like some sort of molten core or at least what he imagined that would look like. He’d only ever seen volcanoes on video and he planned on keeping it that way. 

He was so slack jawed and whoever it was that walked in that he nearly missed the flying ball of spikes headed right towards him. “Putain!” he shouted as he ducked, throwing himself to the ground as the pin ball flew past and rolled up the wall like it was a goddamn ramp before launching itself back across the room. “Why do people keep saying that?” he asked, looking back up at her. 

Wait, damnit, the bar. This was his chance. Kaden pulled himself off the floor and remained crouching, watching the small, frightened, deadly creature. It was on the other side of the room, uncurled for the moment, breathing so heavily that Kaden could see it from where he was. Alright, so not calm, but calm enough. The hunter sprinted to the bar and leapt over the counter, ducking behind the espresso machines right as the beast tucked itself into a sphere again and launched itself across the cafe. He started to look for anything helpful, preferably metal. He wondered if the little pots or whatever they were for steaming the milk would be big enough to contain the little guy. 

Merde, he almost forgot that he wasn't alone. That other… whatever-she-was was still there. He tried to run through what he’d learned throughout his hunter training but nothing that looked like that came to mind. The hell was she? She wasn’t a shifter, he’d have felt that, and no undead would look like that, he was positive. Fae? Maybe? What the fuck kind of fae would that be, anyway? Did that make her… a demon? “Uh, like I was trying to say, we’re closed. Come back some other time. But, leave… Please.” He really didn’t want to deal with a fucking demon today, a pin ball was more than enough.

—

The man was staring at her. That was okay; Cass was kind of used to that. People always stared at her when she was like this. Part of her had thought, when she’d first started to uncover the weirdness of Wicked’s Rest, that things might be a little different in this town. In a place where metal balls that looked like cyberpunk Sonic the Hedgehogs rolled through coffee shops shooting spikes at people, someone with rocky skin and glowing veins wasn’t the weirdest thing around, right? But people still ran from the cafe. People still stared at Cass. And that was fine. They could stare if they wanted to. She was still going to save the day.

“What’s a putain?” She asked, making no move to duck behind anything. She tended to lean towards recklessness more often than not; it was difficult to break through her rocky skin, and she didn’t think the hedgehog thing was capable of it. There was no need to hide from it, right? “Saying what? Sonic? It’s a video game. Have you never heard of Sonic the Hedgehog? They made it into a movie. The guy who played Cyclops is in it. They had to redo all the CGI because he had ugly human teeth. Do you, like, not go on the internet?”

The man was sprinting across the room before Cass was even finished speaking, and she thought he was going for the hedgehog for a moment. “Hey, I don’t think that’s a great —- idea?” Rather than do something stupid, like leap on top of the little hedgehog, the man jumped behind the counter and started… rummaging through the coffee stuff? “Are you making hot chocolate? They have a really good caramel hot chocolate here, but it’s kind of hot for that. It’s June.” 

Carefully, Cass crept across the room to stand by the counter, looking around for where the hedgehog had run to. It was… ah! There! Looking around the empty cafe with an expression so like a frightened animal that it made her chest ache. Cass moved towards it slowly, pausing when the man spoke again. “What? No way, dude. I’m here to help. I’m a superhero. And this little guy needs to be rescued. Right, Sonic?” 

—

Kaden started to rummage through the items behind the bar. The metal cups were interesting, he wondered if they were big enough to contain the pin ball long enough to get it into a crate. Before he could assess one way or the other, he realized that he still wasn’t alone. “Huh?” he said, looking up at her just standing there, no fear. “Putain is just a curse word and– could you duck or hide ro something? That thing runs into you, those spikes aren’t going to be like video game damage or whatever it is.” Alright, sure, she was covered in rocks all over her skin (maybe?) but that didn’t seem like a solid reason to stand there like a fucking target. “Or you can leave. That might be safer.”

He had no idea what she was talking about or what any of it meant but what he did know is that she was clearly not leaving. “Bordel de merde,” he grumbled to himself, looking for a bowl or pan or something bigger than the cups, maybe a dust pan, even. “Hot chocolate latte, huh? I’m not making anyth– Look, if you’re going to stay here, look for something that can contain the thing, alright?” The least she could do was attempt to be useful, but somehow he had a feeling this whole thing was just going to be more difficult than needed.

Metal cups, a plastic bowl, and his net in hand, Kaden looked up where he assumed the lava kid was. Only she wasn’t there by the counter anymore. She was approaching the pin ball. Goddamnit. “Hey,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low, “don’t scare it. If you get too close it’s gonna–” And then it took off, whirling and whizzing around the room at top speed again, sending more furniture and broken dishware scattering around the place. “That. It’s gonna do that,” he said, gesturing to the spinning creature. He ducked when it reeled to roll along the side of the counter, just in case it went careening towards him. 

Who the fuck was this kid, anyway? “A superhero?” he repeated once he popped up from behind the counter again. “What do you fucking mean a superhero? This isn’t a damn comic book, in case you didn’t notice.” 

—

“Really? I’ve never heard it before. And I’ve heard a lot of curse words.” Growing up on the streets had taught her all kinds. But not putain. She wondered if he was just making it up. Humans lied about the strangest things, sometimes. “I don’t think it’s going to run at me,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I’m hard to damage.” Oreads certainly weren’t invincible — Cass had learned that the hard way more than once — but she was pretty sure she could handle a hedgehog. Even if the hedgehog was a little… hedgier than the usual fare. “I’m not going to leave, though. I’m here to help.” 

He looked like he probably needed help. What was he grabbing bowls and stuff for? The question was answered before she could ask it aloud — something to contain the hedgehog. She furrowed her brow, looking at the guy’s uniform. “Aren’t you supposed to be animal control? Why are you containing Sonic with bowls and stuff? Don’t you have equipment? Did the state cut your budget? That happens in Parks and Rec, you know. That’s when Ben Wyatt comes in, and the show gets really good. So maybe it’s not such a bad thing.” 

She approached the hedgehog as she spoke, uninterested in finding a bowl to put it in. Why would she want to stick it in a bowl? It wasn’t, like, soup or anything. It was a hedgehog. And it was kind of cute, if you could get past the whole ‘rolling ball of death’ angle that had sent the rest of the cafe’s patrons running. Cass felt a faint sense of kinship with it. Nobody really liked staying around her, either. They were scared of her, too. But… maybe Sonic was included in the list of people who were frightened by her.

Her face fell as the animal skirted past her. “You’re the one who scared it,” she accused sullenly, though she had no idea if that was true. She just wanted to think that Sonic would be more interested in being her friend if the situation were a little different. “I know this isn’t a comic book. But in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a lot of weird stuff here. A superhero isn’t the weirdest. And I think this town could use one. A lot more than Metropolis, actually.”

—

Kaden rolled his eyes. He really didn’t need anyone criticizing him when he worked. Especially not when they were also in the way. “Animal control equipment isn’t made with monsters in mind.” She kept talking and he wasn’t sure if it was relevant or not, but it was distracting. “And there’s no Ben Wyatt in my department. I don’t know who that is.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as the creature skittered around, startled all over again. When she had the gall to blame him, the hunter could only narrow his eyes and glare at the kid. Even being a… whatever she was, he knew that he was dealing with a kid somehow. He also knew she was making this five times more difficult than it had to be. “Well, have you tried being a superhero there instead?” He asked. 

With a sigh, Kaden accepted that he was going to have to work with her instead of kick her out. Putain de merde. “Alright, you can help. But I need you to at least work with me.” And stop getting in the way. He put a finger to his lips, asking her to be quiet. He wasn’t sure if she was capable of that. He crouched down and motioned for her to do the same. “If you go behind it quietly, we might be able to lure it into the crate over there,” he said in a low voice, pointing to the open cage. “Then we can bring it somewhere out to the woods far away from people where it’s going to be a lot happier. Yes?”

—

“It’s a little mean to call him a monster.” Her voice was tighter than she meant for it to be. Was a thing a monster just because you didn’t see it every day? Just because it looked a little scary, just because it had the capability to hurt? That wasn’t fair. People had the capability to hurt, too. Humans, nymphs, vampires, any of them could hurt someone. It didn’t make any of them monsters, and it didn’t make Sonic one, either. “No it’s — It’s from Parks and Rec. The show. Have you not seen Parks and Rec? Dude.”

Did this guy not know what Metropolis was? Or Parks and Rec? Cass found herself feeling a little bad for him, honestly. He seemed grumpy, but if she’d never seen or read any Superman material and never seen one of the best sitcoms of all time, she’d probably be a little grumpy, too. She gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m going to lend you some comic books later. Okay?” Superheroism wasn’t always stopping poor little hedgehogs from tearing up coffee shops. Sometimes, it was also making grumpy French Animal Control officers less grumpy. Cass would gladly accept her key to the city, like, any day now.

Grinning, she clapped her hands together. Without her glamour, it made less of a slapping sound and more of a thud, but the excitement was clear on her face anyway. “Okay! I can do that. Teamup issues are, like, some of my favorites.” She quieted down as he motioned for her to do so, crouching beside him with an expression of deep concentration. “And we’re letting it go, right? Somewhere where it can be safe? You promise?” She wanted to help, but only if she was sure that Sonic would be okay. 

—

Kaden wasn’t sure why her comment made him feel guilty. He sighed as he looked at the little pin ball, snuffling under one of the overturned tables, its breathing heavy and eyes wide, clearly still panicked. “Fine. You have a point,” he conceded. “Old habits die hard.” He hoped she didn’t ask too many questions about that. Too much to explain there  

“I’ve seen the parks and recs department here, yeah. If you mean some other thing then absolutely not.” He was at least pretty sure that neither of his cousins had made him watch that yet. And if they had, it didn’t matter, he hadn’t paid attention. “Comic books?” he asked, looking up from the collection of bowls and other accouterments he’d laid out. “I’m good, promise. You can keep them”

Alright, it was a little cute that she was excited about teaming up for this superhero thing or whatever she thought this was. Not that he was going to admit that or show it. At all. This was still dangerous and not something she should be handling. “This is just a temporary team up, got it? This one time. Limited edition or whatever you call it.” 

“We’re letting it go, yeah. Promise. It’s dangerous as shit but it’s only because it’s scared and ended up where it shouldn’t be.” He tried not to make a pointed glance towards the kid because, speaking of being where they shouldn’t be…  “Okay, I’m going to be on that side of the shop. I’m going to try and funnel it into that,” he said, pointing towards the crate he’d set up earlier. “Try and direct it this way. Take a bowl.” He handed her one of the metal bowls. “Use it as a shield if you need to. Don’t get hurt.” He gave her a look before nodding and heading to his corner. 

He really hoped she wasn’t going to fuck this up. “Ready?” he asked.

—

He seemed to relent, and Cass felt a strange sense of relief at that. As if this little hedgehog not being considered a monster meant that she wasn’t, either, as if running around a cafe in a panic was the same thing as leaving a girl’s body at the bottom of a ditch. Fear could make a person — or a hedgehog — do all kinds of things, couldn’t it? If Sonic’s fear didn’t make him a monster, could Cass insist that hers didn’t, either?  “Why is it an old habit?” Curiosity drove the question, and she wondered how long this man had been chasing hedgehogs.

“No, not…” Cass trailed off, wondering if this whole endeavor was a useless one. Had this guy ever done anything but chase hedgehogs? Had he sprout from the ground fully formed with a hedgehog-chasing goal as the only thing in his mind? And a French accent, apparently? “No, you’re definitely borrowing some. This is sad. You’re making me sad.” She just felt bad for him, at this point. 

But the team up was still exciting. “A one-shot. Got it.” As if every one-shot didn’t sprout into something bigger so long as it was popular enough. She and French Guy were totally going to get the real-life equivalent of their own team-up ongoing title after this, she could feel it. They just had to take care of Sonic first.

She smiled as he promised they’d be letting the little creature go, binding him to it just in case. He didn’t strike her as the kind of person who’d lie about that, but Cass knew that it was better to be safe than sorry, sometimes. Humans lied about all sorts of silly things. You could never be too careful, especially not when there was a spikey little life on the line. 

Taking the bowl, she nodded. “You got it, boss. Don’t worry about me. I’m tough.” Walking over to stand off to the side between the door and the crate, she shifted her grip on the bowl to flash her partner a quick thumbs up. “Ready!”

—

“Uh…” Kaden reached back to rub the back of his neck. Didn’t know how to explain that one. Well, beyond the truth, at least. “You know, just how some colleagues refer to some of the stranger animals around here.” Not a complete lie but certainly not the truth of the matter. He wasn’t sure what she was but he knew well enough that introducing himself as a hunter then and there was probably not the best idea. At least not until after the pin ball was contained.

“Good,” he said after she told him that he made her sad. As much as he tried to keep it off his face, a small smile peaked through. He’d never quite bantered with his sister like this, Keira was always far too serious for that, but it felt almost like something that could have been. It certainly reminded him of talking to Alex. He wondered if they were the same age. Not that he’d know by looking at her all covered in rocks and lava. “Alright, let’s get this one-shot over with.”

Kaden crept around the side of the counter, searching for where the little guy had run off to. He was still under a table, snuffling around for crumbs, but still alert and ready to dart off at any moment. Which was fine, it could dart away, it just had to do it at the right moment and in the right direction. Kaden took quiet, crouched steps forward, inching closer to the beast, a bowl in hand in case he could manage to trap it himself. Just a little closer now. His arm stretched out, he was about to drop the bowl on top of it and then–

“Putain,” he grumbled as he knocked his head onto the side of a table. And with that, the creature was off and spinning. Kaden ducked and tried to cover his face with the bowl in case it spun in his direction. It was up to his “sidekick” now, he supposed. 

—-

“Well, they shouldn’t do that,” Cass replied, crossing her arms over her chest. It wasn’t fair. Not to the hedgehog, not to any of them. Calling something a monster just because you didn’t understand it was exactly the kind of behavior that made the fae who raised her so afraid of humans. When they convinced themselves that you were a monster, they said, it made them feel as though they had a right to do whatever they wanted to you. 

Good? Good? Cass shot him a glare, though she had to try to hide her own smile as she did so. This was kind of fun, wasn’t it? None of the other young fae in her aos si had ever had much interest in interacting with her, though there hadn’t been any close to her age, anyway. But she liked to imagine this was the kind of interaction she’d missed out on with them — gentle ribbing, fond teasing. Like she’d seen on TV, or read in comics. Friendly banter. She knew all about that. “I’m going to put slime in your socks,” she told him seriously. That was a thing people said, she was sure of it. “Okay, but I’m Spider-Man. You can be… the Hulk or something. There aren’t a lot of French heroes, sorry. Oh! Northstar is French-Canadian. Do you want to be Northstar?” 

French Animal Control Guy was doing his thing, so Cass did hers. She crouched down, bowl in hand, and watched Northstar dart towards Sonic and… fail miserably. At least he’d tried, she guessed, even if he was ducking like a guy in an old war movie now. With him out of commission, Cass knew it was up to her. No big deal, whatever. That was how one-shot comics usually went, anyway. 

Moving forward, Cass took a… slightly different approach. She pounded a rocky hand against the metal bowl, spooking the hedgehog. It jumped up, scampering away from her… and into the trap her ‘partner’ had laid out. Quickly, Cass slammed the door shut and latched it with a cheer. “Hell yeah! Spider-Man and Northstar save the day! US-Canada relations have never been better!”

—-

“Slime in my socks?” Kaden asked, raising a brow. Was that a thing with kids or something? He hadn’t heard Alex tell him that but she was usually teasing him about his hair so maybe she just didn’t get around to it. “As long as you don’t put it on that video clock app thing.” She was odd, that was for sure, but somehow endearing. It was almost annoying. It made trying to tell her to go away a lot harder. That was, until she suggested that he be some French-Canadian guy. The ranger shot her a look. “I would rather die than be québécois.”

Despite the insult, she still managed to steer the pin ball right into the cage. He was almost impressed. Not that he couldn’t have managed this whole mess by himself. Probably would have been faster, too. Still, he sighed and stood up, brushing any debris off his pants before setting the bowl back on the counter. “Alright, now it’s time to get this little guy off where he actually belongs.” Kaden started gathering his supplies, getting the rest of his gear together before he took the handle of the crate. “You did alright, kid. Or, uh, what’d you say, Spider-man?” His head tilted as he looked back over at her. “You look more like a, uh, I don’t know, Lava Girl? Something like that. Not sure where the spider thing came from but sure.” He shrugged. It was all a foreign concept to him, the super hero stuff. “Guess I should thank you or something.” It then occurred to him that she might take that as an invitation to “help” him some other time. “Next time, you can just leave it to me, alright?” 

—

“You heard me,” she warned, pointing at him with an expression she fought to keep serious. When he spoke of a clock app, her brow furrowed. “I’m pretty sure no one is putting anything in their clock app except for alarms.” What was a video clock app? Was that some new alarm system? She didn’t use alarms much herself — not having a job meant she woke up when she woke up. Maybe this ‘video clock app’ was something people used now. She couldn’t imagine anyone her age putting much stock in it, though. Thoughts of this mysterious clock app faded when the guy shot her a look, apparently unhappy with being compared to Northstar. “I don’t know what that means,” she said, brow furrowing. “Is this because Northstar is gay? I don’t know any straight French superheroes. You’re asking for too much here. Anyway, Northstar is cool.” 

In any case, the one-shot ended just as successfully as one-shots tended to in the comics. No Kingpin showing up to kick off some wider plot and announce a new title, no major character death to be undone by the next issue. Just a little spikey hedgehog safely tucked away in a cage. “You have to keep him safe,” she reminded the man. “You promised.” But she wasn’t particularly worried about him keeping it, bind or no. Praise, even from a stranger, made her sit up a little straighter, and she smiled. “Actually, it’s Magma. I go by Magma.” And he didn’t even know comics well enough to know she’d ‘borrowed’ the name from X-Men. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing my job.” Her self-assigned job that no one paid her for. Whatever. “And, just so you know? I’m definitely going to keep doing it.” There was no apology in her tone; it wasn’t a request for him to try to stop her. It was just… a friendly warning.

—

“Alarms? No this is the one with the dancing and the pranks that my cousin is on all the time. Something about ticks? I don’t fucking know.” Kaden was sure she knew what it was. If she could rattle off all this shit about superheroes and media and what not, she knew about the clock app. “What? What does this have to do with anyone being gay?” Kaden couldn’t follow any of this, there was too much jargon to keep up with. Then he realized. He ran his palm down his face. “Not queer, québécois. As in French-Canadian. Meaning he’s Canadian, not French. I’m French. And I’m not fucking straight, either. Thanks for asking.”

“I’ll do my best. I’m going to find the safest spot I can in the woods for him to spin around. Somewhere far away from town.” And somewhere far away from the cabin. Just in case the spinning death ball decided to spin right into the wooden walls. Seemed like a bad idea. “Right,” he said when he called this her job. “This is actually my job, I get paid for this. But guess there are worse sidekicks to have. Take care of yourself, Magma.”

—

“Do you mean TikTok? Dude.” Somebody needed to get this guy on Urban Dictionary. Or… maybe not. Cass wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t lose his mind. He’d probably start using slang from 2012 if he tried, and that just sounded painful. “What’s wrong with being French-Canadian?” Now she understood him even less. But, hey, at least he had one thing going for him: “Oh, hell yeah, you gay little Frenchman! Be gay, do crime!” She raised a hand excitedly, cheering him on.

Now that she knew Sonic would be safe, it was easier to relax. The animal control guy would keep his promise, the hedgehog would be okay, and Cass had a new sidekick to call on. She just… needed to educate him a little bit first. She’d find an easy comic series to introduce him to. It’d be fine. “You take care of yourself, too, Notstar. I’ll see you around.” With a sloppy salute, she ducked out of the cafe. Not bad for a day’s work.

[sepulchretide]

my job history ratings

concession stand worker at baseball field - 2 years, 5/10 got free food but people would shit in the urinals i had to clean and would throw their orders at me if I got it wrong or gave them wrong change

UPS Store Cashier - 1 month, 1/10 got fired because I was still in training when I was left alone with customers who had weird special packages and charged them wrong

Graphic Designer - 1 month, 1/10 got fired because owner knew nothing about graphic design, head guy fucked up a big project and had to pin it on someone, coworker yelled at me a lot before that and tried to get me fired earlier by giving me drug brownies and only telling me that AFTER i had eaten some

Graveyard Groundskeeper - 1 year, 8/10 actually liked this job a lot cause I got so much alone time and just had to keep things looking neat. Boss was a trump supporter though and one coworker was a conspiracy theorist who refused to drink water so he passed out from dehydration regularly

Furniture Assembly/Delivery - Half a year, 6/10 another job I liked because I had a lot of alone time to just work and not be bothered, sucked because the hours were long and they didn't offer healthcare despite the many injuries and heavy things I was moving/lifting

Gamestop - 3 years, 1/10 fucking hated every minute of that job

Party City - 3 months, 1/10 I hate retail

Background Checker - 2 years, 6/10, work was stressful and confusing you needed to meet a daily quota of cases, which all had their own unique rules, apart from that it payed me the most compared to any of the prior jobs and offered healthcare so that's the best in that regard

[gaymasonjar]

Will You Meet Me In The Middle?

Preview of Chapter 5: Fall For You

 “Seriously? All white? This is a magnet for stains”, Michael stated as he adjusted his sweater in the mirror.

 “It’s not ALL white. You have lime green socks on”, Alex informed him as he put on a white baseball cap. “Besides, you’re allowed your hat.”

 “Why must you give me logic?”

 “Because someone has to”, Alex hugged Michael from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder.

 Michael chuckled and stared at their reflection. Alex and Michael were wearing matching white sweatshirts. The day of their wedding was printed on the back:      ‘Mr. and Mr. Guerin. September 5th, 2022. Roswell, NM’     . Before they had left, Isobel had given them a honeymoon present of custom-made clothing. It was hilarious but also very sweet. Alex couldn’t argue that it was in bad taste. It felt great being able to be out and loud about being married to the man he loved.

 “We should head downstairs soon. The photographer is picking us up.”

“Oh really”, Michael questioned. “Just how fancy is this supposed to be?” “Well, she has a better ride for our pictures. Not that I hate your truck.”

 “Listen I know it’s old, but that truck has been with me a long time.”

 “I know”, Alex reassured as he lead Michael out of their room. “But I think you’ll like what I picked out.”

 “Guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

 “I guess so.”

 Michael smirked, pinning Alex to the wall of the elevator to steal a kiss. Alex cupped his face back to return it.  The couple only separated when the elevator doors opened again. They headed out through the lobby and towards the parking lot. A woman in leather pants and a blue crop top was leaning against a bright yellow vehicle. It was a 1975 convertible FIAT124 Spider; completely restored.

 “Oh hell yes”, Michael grinned excitedly.

 The photographer looked up, as she finished tying up her green and black hair in a ponytail. “You must be Mr. and Mr. Guerin!”

 “That’s us”, Alex confirmed.

 “Ready to roll? I’ve got a bunch of great locations in mind for pictures.”

 “Please tell me I get to drive this thing at least once today”, Michael nearly begged.

 She laughed and nodded, “Session includes you in the driver seat.”

 “That’s awesome.”

 “I’m Dawn by the way.”

 “Michael”, he shook her hand. “And this beautiful man is my husband Alex.”

 “Great to finally meet you both.” She opened the passenger door of the car for them, “Shall we?”

 They all piled into the car. Dawn drove them off into the heart of downtown. There was a large, old cathedral towering over the rest of the buildings. Dawn picked the side street behind it where there was plenty of shade. She jumped out, allowing Michael to scoot over. She pulled out her camera from the trunk and adjusted the lens.

 “Alright, try to act natural. Focus more on each other than me. I’m here to capture the moments of you two just being you.”

 “Easier said than done”, Michael muttered.

 “Hey”, Alex grabbed his chin. “Just focus on me.”

 “Easier done than said”, he smirked.

 The clicking of the camera sounded off from nearby as Dawn snapped some pictures. “See? You guys are naturals at this! Oh, I almost forgot something.”

 Rounding the back of the car again, Dawn attached the ‘Just Married’ sign to the trunk of the car and two strings of empty Mountain Dew cans. Alex took his hat off to steal Michael’s. He tilted it up some, finding it a bit too big for his own head. Michael chuckled at the motion.

 “We’ll get pictures with the sign in a bit. Just be cute and gay.”

 Michael glanced over at the camera as it clicked a few more times. He snagged his hat back, using it as a shield as he kissed Alex behind the cover. Alex smiled against his lips. The camera continued clicking away as they continued to try different poses. At one point Alex traded the cowboy hat for his baseball cap and dragged Michael outside of the car. They used the sign prop to show off as they really got into it. Michael sat back on the trunk. He dragged Alex by the hips to sit with him.

 Alex laughed, “Who knew you were such a showoff.”

 “Oh please, I get to embarrass you all the time now with no consequences”, Michael nuzzled his cheek.

 “Oh god”, Alex groaned but leaned into his husband’s embrace regardless.

Read more on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45325099/chapters/114530731

[europeanfloral]

Unique Groomsmen Boutonniere Ideas to Stand Out

Boutonnieres are more than just a floral accessory; they’re a symbol of style and unity for the groomsmen at any wedding. While traditional boutonnieres featuring roses or carnations are timeless, modern couples often seek unique options to make their wedding stand out. Choosing distinctive boutonnieres can add a personalized touch, reflect the theme of the wedding, and showcase the individuality of the groomsmen.

Succulent Boutonnieres

Succulents have become a trendy choice for weddings, and it’s easy to see why. Their sturdy nature and unique appearance make them an excellent alternative to traditional flowers.

Succulents are versatile and can complement both rustic and modern wedding themes. Their muted green tones pair beautifully with neutral and earthy color palettes.

Combine small succulents with other natural elements like twine, burlap, or sprigs of eucalyptus for a cohesive look.

Succulent boutonnieres are long-lasting and can double as keepsakes for your groomsmen.

Herb-Inspired Boutonnieres

Herb boutonnieres are a fresh and fragrant option that adds a touch of nature to your wedding.

Herbs like rosemary, thyme, and lavender not only look elegant but also smell amazing. Their subtle hues work well with minimalist and garden-themed weddings.

Tie the herbs together with a ribbon that matches your wedding colors. Add a small charm or pin for a unique twist.

Herbs have symbolic meanings—for instance, rosemary represents remembrance, making them a meaningful addition to your wedding day.

Feather Boutonnieres

For a whimsical or bohemian wedding, feather boutonnieres are an eye-catching choice.

Feathers come in a variety of colors and textures, allowing you to customize the look to match your theme. They’re lightweight and less fragile than traditional flowers.

Pair feathers with small dried flowers, beads, or metallic accents for a more intricate design.

Feathers can symbolize freedom and creativity, adding a meaningful touch to your wedding.

Dried Flower Boutonnieres

Dried flowers offer a rustic and vintage vibe that’s perfect for outdoor or barn weddings.

Unlike fresh flowers, dried flowers won’t wilt, ensuring your groomsmen look sharp throughout the day.

Choose a mix of dried blooms in your wedding colors. Add textural elements like wheat, pampas grass, or small pinecones for added interest.

Dried flower boutonnieres can be kept as mementos long after the wedding.

Wooden Boutonnieres

For a truly unique and eco-friendly option, consider wooden boutonnieres.

Wooden boutonnieres can be carved, painted, or stained to fit any wedding theme. They’re durable and make for a striking, unconventional accessory.

Have the wood engraved with initials, dates, or a special design that ties into your wedding’s theme.

These boutonnieres are reusable and can be displayed as decor after the wedding.

Sports-Themed Boutonnieres

For a fun and casual wedding, sports-themed boutonnieres can showcase your love for the game.

Incorporating small elements like miniature footballs, golf tees, or baseballs into the boutonniere creates a playful and personal touch.

Use the team colors or add small pins representing your favorite teams.

This idea is a great conversation starter and adds a touch of humor to your wedding day.

Berry and Fruit Boutonnieres

Berries and small fruits can add a burst of color and a touch of whimsy to your groomsmen’s boutonnieres.

Fruits like hypericum berries, kumquats, or small crab apples bring an unexpected twist to floral arrangements.

Combine berries with greenery and seasonal flowers to create a lush and vibrant look.

This unique choice ties beautifully into harvest or fall-themed weddings.

Metallic Accents

Metallic boutonnieres add a modern and sleek touch to any formal affair.

Materials like gold, silver, or copper can be crafted into geometric shapes or floral-inspired designs for a contemporary look.

Pair metallic elements with dark greenery or monochromatic flowers for a chic, sophisticated style.

Metallic boutonnieres photograph beautifully, adding an extra layer of elegance to your wedding album.

Wildflower Boutonnieres

For a laid-back, natural look, wildflower boutonnieres are a charming choice.

Wildflowers bring a sense of effortlessness and natural beauty to your wedding. They’re ideal for outdoor or rustic celebrations.

Opt for a mix of colorful wildflowers that reflect the local flora of your wedding location.

Wildflower boutonnieres are budget-friendly and perfect for a DIY approach.

Adventure-Inspired Boutonnieres

For couples who love travel or the great outdoors, adventure-inspired boutonnieres can capture your spirit.

Incorporating items like small compasses, miniature maps, or hiking-themed charms makes for a truly unique accessory.

Use natural elements like moss, twigs, or stones to enhance the adventurous theme.

These boutonnieres double as keepsakes that your groomsmen can treasure long after the wedding.

Fabric or Paper Flowers

For a creative and customizable option, fabric or paper flowers offer endless possibilities.

These materials can be crafted in any shape, size, or color to perfectly match your wedding theme.

Use fabric swatches that match the bridesmaids’ dresses or incorporate meaningful patterns, such as tartan or lace.

Fabric and paper flowers are durable and make wonderful keepsakes.

Eco-Friendly Options

For environmentally conscious couples, eco-friendly boutonnieres are a meaningful choice.

Using sustainable materials like recycled paper, organic fabrics, or potted plants reduces waste while still looking stylish.

Incorporate elements that reflect your commitment to sustainability, such as small reusable containers or biodegradable materials.

Eco-friendly boutonnieres align with green wedding trends and showcase your values.

Vintage Brooch Boutonnieres

Vintage brooches offer a touch of nostalgia and elegance to your groomsmen’s attire.

Brooches can be found in a variety of styles, from classic to eclectic, making them versatile for any wedding theme.

Choose brooches that reflect the personality of each groomsman or tie into your family history.

Brooches can be passed down as heirlooms, adding sentimental value to your wedding.

Boutonnieres are small but significant details that can make a big impact on your wedding’s overall look and feel. By choosing unique designs, you can ensure that your groomsmen stand out while also reflecting the personality and theme of your celebration. Whether you opt for succulents, feathers, or something completely unexpected, these creative boutonniere ideas are sure to leave a lasting impression.

Take the time to explore different options and work with your florist or designer to bring your vision to life. With the right boutonniere, your groomsmen will not only look sharp but also feel like an integral part of your special day. If you are looking for groomsmen wedding flowers in Stillwater MN, European Floral is the best option. Contact them by calling (651) 717-5689.

[anthonybialy]

Paying the Cost to Be the Ones Bossed

I thought this was America.  Randy Marsh was technically correct when he was herded into a police cruiser for his scuffling at youth baseball games.  But his skepticism about freedom permitted at his location was warranted.  A place once known for doing one’s own thing underwent a tone change.  Thank drifting voters who felt aimless until they were blessed to discover a presidential candidate who knows just how everyone else should live.  Terms are different from yours even if they’re made by the same person.

Choosing who they want to reign over them them around is the decadent privilege of choice.  Participants feel free as long as their gang prevails.  Some zombies joined the brainless undead by volunteering to be bitten.  The only time pod people show independence is when they lash out at being accused of dependence.  The algorithm is on point.

The formerly autonomous are now automatons.  Those conditioned to rely on politicians are allowed to say they’re free, but only for enhancing delusion.  You’ll never guess who started the process.  As a hint, winning elections is the only way they can achieve job security.  I guess perpetrators of dependency were easy to spot.  Trump continues the legacy of intrusive commands as part of his commitment to draining the swamp again.

The very rugged take on life and a free country involves entitlements handed out by someone wearing an American flag pin.  Distinguish between parties by noticing which one pretends to not want reliance.  Honesty in wanting something dreadful is the best case Democrats have for the midterm.

Life is full of coincidences for the manipulative.  It’s uncanny that what they claim will benefit society also gives them more control.  Enriching themselves seems ironically selfish, but the divine guides who bring society unimaginable riches deserve a trifling reward.  The benefits for everyone else will come later.  Everything goes as planned.

Convincing citizens they’re subjects is the trendy goal for modern royals.  Pretending that the parties wanted fundamentally different goals is how they keep customers interested.  Please enjoy higher prices through tariffs instead of inflation.

In order for present politicians to pull off promised miracles, the public must be useless.  Contemporary political thought makes the very inspirational case for humanity by linking their goals and dreams to which messiah obtains enough electoral votes.

It’s little wonder that life seems particularly miserable lately.  Life has not just been 

not just been plagued the usual horrors and aggravations regularly dispensed by an uncaring existence.  A government that’s very interested in you has banned the right to swipe left.

Populism is popular.  it’s not a mere tautology to note that obeying the throng triggers slavish loyalty.  Mutually beneficial ecosystems harm everything else.

The mob is bound to make wise decisions when lurching toward its next targets.  Membership should be rejected by anyone who notices how other people are.  But extroverts win because they won’t leave those alone who desire being left alone.

It’s hard to classify taking someone as a kidnapping when victims beg to be bound and thrown in the conversion van.  The FBI says to call back in a week.  Willingly conceding liberty makes duct tape unnecessary, but bring rolls just in case they request it.  Asking for their favorite snacks might be pushing it.

Everyone wants to be a star.  The secret appeal for cult members is to receive direction.  Faithful drama school enrollees never even ponder the possibility that they could live without having their steps dictated.  Seeking a presidency where they’ll finally be unbothered would spur chaos for those begging to be hassled.

Do you care about the flag enough?  The new breed of Republicans love the country so much that they think doing whatever the government tells them is patriotic.  In truth, America is great because it limits the reach of the grabby.  The whole point is to distinguish between the two.  But a system set up to limit itself might keep Trump from ordering life to become great.

A lack of empathy leads to thinking nobody else has it, either.  Conniving manipulators are unable to conceive of a nation where leaders don’t grasp every bit of power available.  Even worse, they can’t picture a leader who dared let them write their own to-do lists.

Remember to take everyone seriously who claims they’re saving the country from that other party holding the executive branch for another term.  As for what they’ll do themselves, they’d like to again emphasize which human demon would be sitting in the chair with different results.  The lack of uplifting details should’ve offered an obvious clue.  Adherents are instructed to ignore it by the candidate, and the country will be ruined without unity.

Living through this should be the most effective advertisement for not continuing.  This’ll be way too many consecutive terms of not just getting bossed around but by these particular aspiring tyrants.  Genuine pouting beat phony inspiration this time.  But the aggravation remains unchanged.  Do as you’re told so you can please those who really matter.

[theweeniesupreme]

More bakery questions. Thanks in advance for answering these. Could the owner or an employee make something at home, and sell it at said bakery? Would it need to have the “prepared in a home kitchen” label?

Is it possible for a bakery owner to be hands on with their employees almost everyday? Or would they be busy doing other things?

If there’s no uniforms, what’s the general dress code bakeries follow? Aside from non-slip shoes.

So, I don't know where in the world you are located, but in the untied stated there is this thing called "Cottage Food Laws" which allows people to sell certain foods they make at home to the public!

Its super cool but it varies from state to state. Some states you'll need to register with the state's Department Of Agriculture, and some states you'll need a special license. but there is a general consensus between all states of basic rules you'll need to follow:

A Label With the name and address of your "business" (because the state identifies this as a business) or registration number

Any and all possible allergens (usually safe to just have a list of ingredients used)

and a disclaimer label that says "These products are homemade and are not subject to state inspection"

There is a nice list you can look up of what is considered Cottage Food but its all things that do not need to be temperature controlled. Baked goods (that do not contain any custards, creams, or egg like a quiche), canned goods like jams, jellies pickled items etc.). The list can be found online.

In some states you can sell your products through a local retail business like a grocery store or bakery, but in others it needs to be through direct sale to the customer either from a bake sale, farmers market, from your home directly, online, or online (at my last job we hosted art pop-ups for local artists and small businesses and we had a few that sold baked or canned goods).

So, going off of these general rules, if a bakery owner wanted to sell their own, or let an employee sell in their store, it would be good to go.

The owner can be as hands on as they see fit. At that point, especially if they're the one coming up with the recipes and menu, they're the head chef unless they've hired someone to take on that roll. There are a lot of things to do in that roll. Ordering produce and other supplies as needed (usually done weekly or every few days), taking inventory of stock, menu pricing, P&L statements, marketing and advertising, overseeing bank statements, making sure all bills are paid, and a bunch more. All depends on how much help for these things the owner has, but they wouldn't assign some of these to just any regular employee.

As far as uniform policy goes, if there isn't a strict dress code, they would still have to be in compliance with OSHA to minimize workplace injury. Tshirt, Pants, apron, Non-slip shoes or boots. Nothing too loose or flowing that could be caught on equipment or caught on fire. Hat, Hairnet, or longer hair that is tied back securely.

An example from my own uniform policy: Plain black tshirt or any tshirt with the company logo (any color). Plain black utility pants, leggings or dark wash denim jeans that are not distressed and free from holes. Plain black apron (which was provided by company). Black or brown non slip shoes or boots. Skull cap, Baseball hat, or hair net. Longer hair must be pulled back into a secure bun or ponytail. Braided or pleated hair is acceptable as long as it can be secured back or in a hat. No decorative clips, pins, or other hair fixtures that could come loose and contaminate the food. (I've worked at a place early on in my career where a gal had worn one bubby pin that had rhinestones on it and one of them fell into the food that was then delivered to the customer).

And then all that uniform policy goes further into appropriate jewelry, general hygiene, fingernail length how they're needed to be kept when working with food.

Again, I hope all of this helps and please feel free to ask any other questions you might have!! (Sorry about the length of this..It kinda ran away from me lol I could have yapped even more about some of this stuff tbh lol)

[sanajames]

The Timeless Essential: Denim Jackets for Men

Denim jackets are a wardrobe staple that effortlessly blend style and versatility. Whether you're dressing for a casual weekend outing or adding a rugged edge to your everyday look, a denim jacket is a timeless piece that never goes out of fashion. At Bash, we understand the appeal of denim jackets for men, which is why we offer a curated collection of denim jackets men crafted with quality materials and contemporary designs. In this blog, we'll explore the enduring charm of denim jackets, share styling tips, and showcase why they are a must-have addition to every man's wardrobe.

The Enduring Appeal of Denim Jackets

Denim jackets have been a fashion staple for decades, beloved for their durability, versatility, and timeless style. Here's why they continue to be a wardrobe essential for men:

Versatile Layering: Denim jackets are incredibly versatile layering pieces that can be worn year-round. Whether you're layering them over a t-shirt in the summer or under a coat in the winter, denim jackets add an effortless cool factor to any outfit.

Timeless Style: With their classic silhouette and rugged charm, denim jackets exude timeless style that never goes out of fashion. From vintage-inspired trucker jackets to modern slim-fit styles, there's a denim jacket to suit every taste and preference.

Easy to Customize: Denim jackets are like a blank canvas, allowing you to customize and personalize them to reflect your individual style. Add patches, pins, or embroidery for a unique and personalized touch that sets your jacket apart from the rest.

Styling Tips for Denim Jackets

Styling a denim jacket is easy and fun, allowing you to create a variety of looks that suit your personal style. Here are some tips to help you make the most of this wardrobe essential:

Casual Cool: For a casual and effortless look, pair your denim jacket with a simple white t-shirt, slim-fit jeans, and sneakers. Roll up the sleeves and add a beanie or baseball cap for a laid-back vibe.

Smart Casual: Dress up your denim jacket by layering it over a button-down shirt and chinos for a smart casual ensemble. Finish the look with leather boots or loafers for a polished finish that's perfect for a night out or a casual date.

Street Style Edge: Embrace your inner street style star by pairing your denim jacket with distressed jeans, a graphic tee, and high-top sneakers. Add a statement accessory like a chain necklace or a beaded bracelet for a bold and fashion-forward look.

Why Choose Bash

At Bash, we're committed to offering denim jackets for men that combine style, quality, and affordability. Our collection features a range of styles, washes, and fits to suit every taste and body type, ensuring that you'll find the perfect denim jacket to elevate your wardrobe.

Conclusion

Denim jackets are a timeless wardrobe essential that effortlessly blend style, versatility, and comfort. Whether you're dressing for a casual day out or adding a rugged edge to your everyday look, a denim jacket is the perfect finishing touch that completes your ensemble with effortless coolness. Explore the collection of denim jackets for men at Bash and discover the perfect piece to elevate your style with timeless appeal.

Find your perfect denim jacket men and embrace classic style with a modern twist.

[alpha-trophies-blog]

Why Alpha Trophies Store is Your One-Stop Shop for Sports Trophies

The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat – these are the hallmarks of any sporting competition. And what better way to commemorate those moments than with a shining trophy? But finding the right trophy can feel like a competition in itself. That's where Alpha Trophies Store comes in. We're your one-stop shop for everything trophies, making your life easier and your winners feel truly celebrated.

Widest Selection of Trophies

Imagine walking into a store overflowing with trophies for every sport imaginable. That's Alpha Trophies! From soccer cups to baseball bats on pedestals, tennis statuettes to bowling pin figures, we have a massive selection to choose from. Whether you're organizing a local basketball tournament or a prestigious golf competition, we have the perfect trophy to crown your champion.

Top-Notch Quality

A trophy isn't just a plastic trinket; it's a symbol of achievement. That's why Alpha Trophies uses only the highest quality materials. Our trophies are built to last, so winners can proudly display them for years to come. We don't want a trophy to break or tarnish easily, it should reflect the importance of the victory.

Customization Makes it Special

A generic trophy is nice, but a personalized one is truly special. At Alpha Trophies, we understand that. We provide a variety of customization options. Want the winner's name and the event details engraved on the trophy? No problem! Need a specific logo or emblem added? We can do that too. This personal touch makes the trophy even more meaningful for the recipient.

Competitive Prices & Great Value

We know that organizing a sporting event can be expensive. That's why Alpha Trophies offers trophies at competitive prices. We won't break the bank to find the perfect award.  In fact, we offer great value for your money.  Many of our trophies come with free center logos, so you get a high-quality product without hidden costs.

Fast and Hassle-Free Ordering

Time is of the essence, especially when you're planning a sporting event. That's why Alpha Trophies makes ordering trophies a breeze. Our user-friendly website allows you to browse our selection, choose your trophy, and customize it with just a few clicks. Plus, we offer fast turnaround times, so you can be sure your trophies will arrive in time for the big day.

Excellent Customer Service

Sometimes, you might have questions or need help finding the right trophy. At Alpha Trophies, our friendly and knowledgeable customer service team is always here to assist you.  We want to make sure you have a positive experience, so don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything.

More Than Just Trophies

Trophies are our specialty, but that's not all we offer. Alpha Trophies also carries a wide variety of medals, plaques, and awards. So, if you're looking for something different to recognize achievement, we have you covered.

The Winning Choice for Your Event

When it comes to finding the perfect trophies for your sporting event, look no further than Alpha Trophies Store. With our vast selection, top-notch quality, customization options, competitive prices, and excellent customer service, we're your one-stop shop for everything trophies.

Contact Alpha Trophies Today

Let us help you make your next sporting event a success. Visit our website or contact Alpha Trophies today to browse our selection and discuss your trophy needs. We're confident we can find the perfect award to celebrate your champions.

[caribbeanhobo]

The Ultimate Guide to Finding the Perfect Hobo Hat

The classic hobo hat captures carefree wanderlust and adventurous living. Its wide brims and loose style nod to vagrant ramblers riding the rails ages ago. Though originally utilitarian headgear for laborers and itinerant migrants, today the hobo hat makes a fashion statement embracing nonconformity. CaribbeanHobo.com offers a fabulous selection of hats repping island life for the modern hobo. Keep reading for an in-depth guide to finding the ideal hat fitting your personal style. Learn pro tips for choosing fabrics, sizes and custom details so your hat becomes a staple of your iconic island-hopping ensemble.

Consider Hat Fabrics

Hobo lifestyle hats come in a range of materials that balance aesthetics, breathability and durability. Straw options like raffia make ultra-lightweight statement hats perfect for beach settings and tropical climates. Straw breathes well, though offers less warmth and structural integrity over time than other fabrics. Felt or wool styles provide sturdier, shape-holding options in classic hobo looks. Canvas hat with a waterproof wax coating add weatherproofing. This guide focuses on selecting stylish hat shapes and embellishments, as CaribbeanHobo.com conveniently allows you to customize any design on your choice of fabrics.

Compare Styles: Fedora, Gambler or Flat-Brimmed

The floppy silhouettes of hobo hats encompass a few distinct crown and brim shapes. Classic fedora styles have indented crowns and slightly upturned brims. Gambler hats have flat tops and wide, down-turned brims. Flat-brim styles mimic baseball caps with horizontal tops and visors. CaribbeanHobo.com offers all three stylish shapes to match your personal vibes. Those wanting vintage throwback appeal might choose a rugged wool fedora, while beach bums may prefer a raffia gambler hat.

Size Your Hobo Hat Properly

Sizing your custom hobo hat prevents problems like headaches or looking overwhelmed. Measure the circumference of your head to determine ideal hat dimensions accounting for hair volume. Loose-fittinggambler and fedora hat styles Drape well slightly above or resting on your ears. Stiff canvas flat-brims should align with the top of ears without drooping too low over eyes. Tall crown heights help hats stay anchored on heads for adequate shade and rain protection. For folded storage while island hopping,consider sizing up. All CaribbeanHobo.com hat patterns include specific sizing instructions and size chart recommendations for a precision fit.

Pick Hat Colors and Patterns

What colors and prints make you feel most island adventurous? CaribbeanHobo.com offers hobo hats ranging from nautical navy styles to vibrant island floral designs. Customize ideal combinations of hat fabric and print patterns for your personal island vibe. Contrasting hatband ribbon colors also help designs pop. Or choose rich solids in ocean blues, island greens or sand hues. Prints showing palm trees, pineapple motifs or Caribbean flags inject region-appropriate looks.

Add Custom Details

Elevate basic hobo hats with thoughtful custom details that tell your travel story. Consider an engraved nameplate or sentimental patch sewn onto your hat’s side band. The crown offers space for embroidery signatures, island mantras or compass motifs to guide your journey. For globetrotters and digital nomads, customize a hat with collected destination pin badges marking past sites and future plans.

If wearing Hobo lifestyle hats to promote brands, products or causes, order custom logo patches added with reliable stitching. CaribbeanHobo.com makes it easy to integrate personalized touches onto any hat order. Get creative dreaming up unique embellishments aligned to your island identity. Then rest assured knowing expert in-house tailoring handles ornamenting your custom vagabond headgear.

Conclusion

Hopefully this guide brought you closer to discovering your perfect island wandering companion hat at caribbeanhobo.com. Their designs empower embodying the modern hobo ethos however you envision it, from vintage train hopper to backpack beach bum. What added touches will make your hat truly yours?

[aksharaentertainments11]

What are the most popular themes for a young boy's birthday party

Superheroes: Whether it's Marvel, DC Comics, or their own personalized hero, superhero-themed parties are always a hit. Decorate with superhero logos, masks, capes, and action figures.

Sports: Choose a specific sport like soccer, football, basketball, or baseball, and incorporate related decorations, games, and activities. You could even organize mini-games for the kids to participate in.

Dinosaurs: Boys often love dinosaurs. You can have dinosaur-themed decorations, games like "Pin the Tail on the Dinosaur," and even a dinosaur-shaped cake.

Pirates: Transform your party space into a pirate ship with skull and crossbones flags, treasure chests, and pirate hats. Organize a treasure hunt or a walk the plank game.

Outer Space: Blast off into space with a space-themed party. Decorate with planets, stars, and rockets. You can have activities like making paper rockets or "moon" sand.

Cars/Trucks: For the little vehicle enthusiast, a car or truck-themed party can be exciting. Decorate with traffic signs, toy cars, and checkered flags.

Animals/Jungle Safari: Create a jungle atmosphere with animal print balloons, plush animals, and greenery. You can have face painting with animal designs and safari-themed games.

Construction: Build a construction site in your backyard with caution tape, construction cones, and toy tools. Activities can include building with blocks or a sandbox filled with toy trucks.

Robot: Embrace the future with a robot-themed party. Decorate with metallic colors, gears, and robot cutouts. You can have a DIY robot-making station or robot-themed crafts.

Video Games: If the birthday boy is into gaming, a video game-themed party can be a hit. Decorate with pixel art, controllers, and game-themed snacks. You can even set up gaming stations for the kids to play.

Remember to tailor the theme to the interests and preferences of the birthday boy, and incorporate elements like themed invitations, costumes, games, and activities to create a memorable experience.

Akshara Entertainments is a Leading birthday party organizer and planner in Hyderabad. We specialize in creating unique and memorable birthday partie Decoration, planning and organizing for people of all ages. We believe in bringing your idea to reality and making your birthday celebration a remarkable experience with our highly trained and creative professionals. We have the knowledge, skills, and passion for making your birthday party one-of-a-kind, whether you’re organizing a grand celebration or a smaller gathering. Our services include event conceptualization, venue selection, decoration, entertainment, food and beverage, and all other event planning and management aspects. Akshara Entertainments is the best choice for all your birthday party Decorations needs in Hyderabad because of our commitment to providing great service and customer satisfaction.