#girl the cashiers don't hire people

[binch-i-might-be]

a grown ass man just had a temper tantrum at self checkout and was screaming at my coworker about why we only had two (2) registers open when the queues were so long, and upon being told that we just didn't have anyone left (true btw) he screamed at her that we should hire more people then!

ok bestie how about you yell for a bit longer so the one new girl we have here today changes her mind about retail and quits lmao

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Convenience Store Vampire, part 1

The sun was rising, leaving streaks of fire in a dying sky. The birds thronged out of their nests like a miasma of locusts, blotting out the light with their silhouettes. Mortal chattel swarmed the streets, beginning the trek to their drudgery.

I lounged on my chassis, sipping a cup of wine, a prince of darkness waiting to descend upon his dominion. I was the lord of things of the night, a member of the superior species. A vampire, in short. A bloodsucking, maiden-seducing, mind-controlling fiend.

As the clock struck 7, I drifted upright and out the door. Straightening my collar, I surveyed the hallway before me with an aura of disdain. With careful, elegant steps, I glided down the stairs and out the door.

Across the street from me stood my sanctum, the place I would spend my sunlight days. A throne worthy of one such as I, a mighty fortress-

Ah, who am I kidding? It was a convenience store. I was a convenience store worker. A convenience store vampire. The only thing I ruled over was rows of snacks. It was humiliating, but it paid the rent and the blood-price.

“Davey? Ah, good thing you're here, dearie,” Mrs Carter, a regular customer, said. Despite being several hundred years younger than me, she persisted in treating me like a little boy. “I've just run out of sugar! Jeannie is coming over today, and I was gonna bake some cookies for the littlies. They love the stuff, you know?”

I nodded absentmindedly as I unlocked the shutters of the shop, flicking on the fluorescent lights. Did she even know I was a vampire? With some people, it was hard to tell. “Come on in, Mrs Carter,” I told her, flipping the sign to ‘Open’. 

“Speaking of which, do you have a girlfriend? A handsome young man like you ought to have a girl,” she said with a suggestive wink. 

I gave her a close mouthed smile. “No, not really,” I said. Even the maiden-seducing part was a lie, I thought gloomily. Other vampires wanted nothing to do with me, other inhumans thought I was a joke, and mortals were too scared of me. There were those who liked the idea of dating a vampire, but those scared me. Besides, those sorts were looking for a prince of darkness, not a prince of restocking shelves.

“What a shame, dearie,” Mrs Carter said, humming to herself. “Say, my youngest is about your age, and she doesn't have a man either. Why don't I arrange a nice little date between the two of you?”

Her daughter was most assuredly not my age, I thought wryly. It would be more appropriate to date Mrs Carter. Nonetheless, I said, “Why not? Tell her I'm free every night.”

Mrs Carter brightened up, handing me her carton of eggs and a tenner. “That's the spirit, dear!”

I returned a handful of change. The nice thing about the compulsive counting of vampires was that I always knew how much change there was in the cash register. “Have a nice day, Mrs Carter,” I told her.

She waddled out of the store, satisfied, leaving me alone in my realm of microwave meals. That was generally how my days went. I worked in a quiet part of town, where we were lucky to see more than a dozen customers a day. There was no glory in it, no adventure or romance.

People tended to think of vampires as terrifying, powerful beings who played incomprehensible games of intrigue amongst themselves. By and large, they weren't wrong. Most of my kind loved sticking their fingers in every pie and their noses in everyone else's business. But some of us didn't like the high life, and some of us… Well, we really didn't have a choice.

I lounged against the counter, keeping a safe distance from the morning sunlight that filtered through the windows. My manager had had UV protection installed (as per the guidelines for diversity-friendly hiring), but it really wasn't enough. So I lurked in the comfortable shadow of the cashier, elbows on the plastic table and hands clasped together. In another time, another realm, I could almost be a tycoon making a business deal, I thought sadly.

Then the door opened, and I was back to reality.

A tiny elf stood there, her hair pale as snow and her eyes barely tinged with gold. I knew her, though she was not a customer, and I mustered up a smile for her. “Hash, what might you be doing here?” 

Hash was another of my kind, a shapeshifter who ran about wearing the face of an elf-child. People had a tendency to distrust shapeshifters, so it helped when she stuck to one form. It took me a whole 13 decades to find out what she actually was, and another couple of months to understand her horrendous Paliodaen accent.

She pranced over and pulled me into a bear hug. “Jus’ came to check on ya, Dave! And-” She rubbed the back of her head awkwardly.

“Ya do know there's a dead Exorcist outside yer door, right? I think he's forming a ghost, too.”

(I felt like trying my hand at more cozy urban fantasy... Let me know what y'all think!)

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[mrsmahito]

The PROMISE

Mahito x Black!fem!reader

Summary: You leave your life in America as you start your dream of becoming a big-time model in Japan after working your way through the industry. At night you work at a club to make extra money on the side. One night you're attacked but strange stranger stops the attack. You tell them you'll keep this a secret, that turns into something more of a promise…

Warnings: Alcohol, Blood, Violence, Blood, Gore mentioned, Eventual smut(Slow burn)

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Chapter 2~ Sunset Club

“Y/n with a mocha cookie crumble with white mocha instead of mocha!” yelled the cashier snapping you back to reality.

You smile warmly walking to get your Mocha for the night before you head to work. You were heading out the door when the old man you were sitting next to warned 

“Be careful in the streets ya hear.”

Not bothered by the remark you waved goodbye to the old man.

“I always am.”

Walking out the door, you wave for a taxi. After about 10 minutes a white one pulls over. Hopping in you close the door.

“Doko e?” {Where to?} the driver asked.

In cases like this you studied Japanese and Korean before flying out here. You knew not everyone would speak English and wanted to respect the culture as speaking English probably wouldn't get you far anyway.

“Sunset Kurabu” {Sunset Club} you stated. Sipping your Mocha.

The driver was shocked as most of the civilians here expected foreigners to speak only English usually to accommodate themselves. 

(That and he had planned to charge extra.)

The driver put the address in his phone. Putting the car in drive as he pulled off. It was going to take about 10-15 minutes to get there. 

Sunset club is a 2 level joint for foreigners and civilians. The first floor is for regulars and the 2nd floor is for VIP’s. The club is a cafe/exotic theme opening at 8 pm and of course requiring an Id to confirm you were 18 and up. Although the atmosphere wasn't as bad as anyone would think. The dancers were usually on stage laughing and giggling on the high podium while the men made jokes, in the back stands your bar behind them. People sat at the counter ordering drinks and of course trying to see if they could get a girl home or in some case end up being friends. On the other side of the club there was a big space for customers to dance and mess around, every once in a while, there’d be a big shout from the entire club, this met everyone was having a good time.

You quietly sip your mocha in the back seat checking your phone for any texts or missed calls. There were a couple gmail’s in your phone about upcoming photo shoots or interviews that need to be met up with. Then there was also the sponsorship from cafes and clubs, along with a text from Kyra:

“Be safe!’’

You were halfway done with your mocha when the taxi pulled up at the club.

“Arigatō!” {Thank you!} you state with a smile, swiping your card.

The driver smiled, pulling off as you waved goodbye.

Outside music filled the air, and the club was crowded. The line was around the block, as usual. You downed the rest of your Mocha and quickly checked in.

This is going to be a long night. . .

Running to your station at the bar, where you see Leah the lead dancer standing smiling at you.

“Right on time missy.” she said enthusiastically.

“As always” you grin, racing to change into you're uniform.

You first discovered this club while walking around in Tokyo while coming from a convenience store. Hearing music blasting down the street while heading back to the apartment, you watched people go in and got a glimpse of the inside. It was known but not all that well at this time. While examining the door, a hiring sign caught your attention. Looking ahead you stood in thought:

"I don't really have anywhere to be till the week after the next to start modeling so..."

Dashing home you change into a silky skimpy sleeveless brown tone dress topping off your outfit with a simple silver necklace and white lace up heels leaving out your curls.

Striding your way back to the club you waited patiently in line until you finally made it in. Once in loud music filled your ears as you stride over to the bar, where a very exhausted women stood. Her blue eyes on the verge of collapsing, pale skin glowing from the lights glowing purple and pink on stage, slim figure moving from person to person, and pear-shaped body in her pink lace up what look like lingerie. Her hair sandy blonde with pink streaks, she looked about 5 '8 in her mid 20’s. Waiting for her to finish up her last customer you walk up.

“Excuse me.” you call although not expecting her to speak English you cringe.

The woman looked at you giving a weak smile “What can I get you sweetie?” her voice trying not to sound out of breath. You relax as you hear those words.

“Oh um, nothing I'm actually here about the job you have open” you insisted. Hearing this the woman relaxes. “I’d like to speak to the hiring manager,” you added, seeing the woman at ease. 

“You’re looking at her.” The sandy haired woman responds with a smile. Shocked, your words catch in your throat.

“Tell you what about you cover for me right now? I'm not exactly a drink handler, I'm more of supposed to be on those poles” she points over to her pole behind you making you spin around to where she's pointing. You turn around stunned but putting the pieces together as to why she “dressed” as she is. “I'm assuming you're at least older than eighte-”

“Twenty” you add quickly with a smile. The woman's gaze meets hers.

“Well then that's even better.If you know how to make a decent drink i’d like you to fill in here for about an hour until I get back, is that alright Miss..” she trails off.

“Y/n, Y/n L/n” you answered. “And I’d be happy to.”

“Great!! My name is Leah. Let me show you the basics.” Nodding you comes around the counter.

After a while you were actually managing pretty well getting compliments left and right. While you were working Leah went and did a background check on you just to be safe. After an hour Leah came back around to see you as closing time was approaching. You rinse the last glass drying your hands looking up making eye contact with Leah.

“You should be here by no later than 9pm and you'll get off at about 3 am.You’ll be paid ¥1,321 (to usd 1,400) a week along with a bonus if you earn it.”

 She walks over standing in front of you and continues “You’ll be provided with a uniform and if you have any trouble with customers let me know and I'll deal with them, Understood?”

You nod, smiling.

“Thank you very much!! I promise to work hard! Oh-” you add “I also have this modeling gig I start in 2 weeks so if I could maybe rearrange my hours soon??” you inquired… “If that's ok of course!!” you added with a panic.

Leah looks you up and down at you and smiles “Depending on how hard you work we’ll see. But I’d like something in return if you don’t mind.” She adds “I’d like you to sponsor us. If you're able.’’

 You pause as the air falls still. The sound of the employees moving chairs and sweeping fills the air. You nod “Deal.” Leah smiles 

“Alright then welcome to the team.”

                               ***

Next

[tandytoaster]

There's a snow storm today and the mall is having a delayed opening, but I was scheduled before that so I messaged my manager what to do and she was like, "whichever is safer for you, they opened but theres no customers", and I'm indecisive, and my mom was saying don't go in at all so I called the store and they were like, "girl omg don't come in"

My old job would Never !!!!

Like. I get it because I was a support worker in a group home and you Need to be staffed no matter the weather but the supervisor would guilt you if you couldn't come in 😔 And you wouldn't get thanked either for coming in. Or for anything else for that matter 😐

It sucks!!!! Because I liked my job, I liked my coworkers, I liked the people that lived at the house, and it paid well. But the new supervisor drove everyone away like once she was hired ppl were dropping like FLIES. There were problems beforehand but when she was hired it got so much worse. I hate her I know she's gonna rot in hell. Before she was hired she was HR at a different place that's kinda notorious for bad things happening there

🤷‼️

And another thing that's really unfortunate is that my current manager treats a number of people like how the supervisor from my last job treated everyone. Like I'm scared she's gonna turn on me 😭 I'm not so naive to think it won't happen ☹

I'm genuinely good at my current job and I like doing tedious things that no one else likes doing and I'm good at getting peoples info when I'm doing cashier shit which I don't like doing bc it feels yucky but 😩 that's what matters in our manager's eyes. So she likes me for that

[mdccanon]

I wanna translate this into fantasy allegory, lol

On a thread, a man accused Lenin of ableism because he said every man should work for his food, but when I asked him if he genuinely thought Lenin believed hospital patients and other invalid people should be denied food, he couldn't answer because he couldn't articulate his outrage into a feasible demand Lenin would make against physically and mentally disabled people.

So, he tried again to say this MUST be ableism because it felt cruel to demand disabled people to work at all. I repeatedly asked him to work with me to make a tier-list of "disabled" because there is a large gap of space between a person with mild intellectual disability (MID) being a cashier at the local grocery story and a person with several schizophrenia who needs inpatient care. And did he have any reason to think Lenin was against expanded inpatient care with independent living? Does he have anything besides the momentary outrage of this one quote and concept that sounds entirely like it is presuming an able-bodied person? (Which means it does nothing to inform us of Lenin's actual views on disability.)

So, after a small tangent of complaining about American healthcare, which did nothing to inform us of actual communist Russia healthcare policy, he returned on topic to declare he'd work twice as hard if it allowed a disabled person to not work at all. I told him that sounded very noble and all, but - again - what does HE think he is referring to when he says "disabled people" because unless he thinks any Leftist political philosopher believed in starving people who were under medical care, why does he think anyone WITH a disability but with a functioning mind and body should be "spared" work? What does he think people should do with the 16 hours they are awake? Sorry, Timmy, you can't be an engineer; you're in a wheelchair. Rayshawn had big dreams of owning his own streetwear fashion store, but too bad that he's deaf. Who does he think he's helping? Also, has he ever actually worked with mentally disabled people, like as coworkers or worked with his local County Board of Developmental Disabilities?

He said no to either.

I have. I've trained a 22-year-old girl who couldn't read; taught her to memorize the menu of our restaurant and kept pushing her until she finally applied to be a supervisor. I needed a good Lt. in that kitchen and she'd put her whole foot up dishwashers' and cooks' asses when they slacked off. I honestly hope she lives with her grandmother for a long time; I think more people SHOULD live intergenerationally because we can't hire an entire third of the nation to be home health aids. But I certainly don't think that girl "deserves" to not work.

The guy kinda petered off into silence after a while because he just didn't have anything but empty outrage. The forum was anti-work and lord knows plenty of people on it have many reasons to hate labor (while also hating investing and capitalism) and don't want to work for others but also don't want to work for themselves, and so on and so on and so on.

But I asked him what point did he honestly think he was trying to prove. 1) Disability doesn't make a person invalid and more people, 2) by the full definition of disability, have one than you may think, adn 3) the vast majority of disabilities do not move the needle as much as he is assuming.

A person with mild mental retardation (2.0-2.5% of the population) can do your taxes for you because they can learn up to a 6th grade level and the average American reading level is 7th grade. High school graduation tests only test for 9-10th grade level and collegiate level education is used very sparingly in real life and most college-educated people use middle school level in daily life.

Who do you think you are saving when the only difference between you and a person with a 70IQ is that you have the capacity to learn more complex concepts and then waste your life never actually picking up a book? Do you know how dumb you look when a girl who can't read knows your job better than you because she had to put more work in to overcome her disadvantage, so she memorized and repeated until she perfected it while you used all~llll that extra IQ to rationalize your laziness and lack of integrity with "I won't be paid more if I know the menu better"? And then she got promoted. Above you. Before you. You chump. (Yeah, there was a 50yo guy at work who loved to undermine and game the system using that whole "if I make $16/hr but put in $12/hr effort, its like I'm making over on them" but then he went ballistic when she was promoted and because his supervisor.)

And with all that being said, comprehensive medical assistance care and public accommodation are vital to a nation that cares about quality of life and public health. But even the most depressed person in the world is awake for 16 hours a day, and I'm fairly certain digging up a potato and plucking a tomato would help both their depression and their hunger. There is no such thing as being too good or too bad for labor. Labor is not the enemy.

I think Jesus said it best. "Are you seriously telling me that if your cow fell into a well, you'd refuse to save it because its Sabbath day? The dogma of "I get one day off to rest" is more important to you than the clear and present necessity of saving your only cow? Honestly?"

[iamonlyhereforthefreefood]

Alright update on my day. I went to three record stores and none of them were hiring but 2 of them were like "why don't you leave your resume with us and we'll call you if something opens up" the other one I asked if they were hiring and the girl just goes "no" and then gave what I interpreted as a judgmental look but that might just be because I have low self esteem.

Of the 2 I did give my resume to the first one would be easier to get to, I wouldn't have to transfer busses or anything but the second one seemed more fun. It was really big and in a cool neighborhood and the people working there seemed really nice. I probably should apply to other places to but I'm so stuck on my fantasy of working in a record store that I really don't want to go apply to a bank or clothing store now.

Also at one of the stores the guy asked about the gap in my resume and I was like "yeah I took some time off to focus on my writing" which he seemed impressed by. Dear reader I have barely written in the past year but I was not going to admit to have spent the last year reading and watching Netflix and not working.

Oh also I went to Chipotle and the cashier complemented my anti-Reagan shirt.

[fangirlings-things]

First Costumer

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x female reader

Summary: you just got hired to do the job you always wanted and your first costumer, is no other but a Peaky Blinder

Word count: 2.1K

This is based on the moodboard below, made by my friend. You can find the original post here

A/N: I wrote this for @flowers-in-your-hayr 650 followers celebration. congratulations, love!! you're amazing, thank you for understanding my brazilian jokes lol and I hope you like this 💖

TAG LIST: @sophieshelby ; @charmingvalkyrie ; @inglourious-imagines ; @fairyofvoid ; @locke-writes ; @regalbanshee ; @captainshazamerica ; @lotsoffandomrecs ; @flowers-in-your-hayr ; @too-spoopy-to-be-frukd

You heard the doorbell ring and the sound filled the bookshop. Finally, a costumer. Your very first costumer. How exciting! 

You got down of the ladder you had previously climbed to fix some of the higher shelves and passed your hands through your brown simple dress, making sure it was proper and in order. Mr. Cuthbert had taken a long time to finally accept you as an employee in his establishment and now, you had to make him proud. 

You had always loved books. Since you were just a little girl, you mother had given you novels to read and you grew up living in many different ones from the reality you actually found yourself in. Books were your passion, your refugee, your ideal spot. To be able to work around them and make people happy by buying books, well, it sounded like perfection! 

The costumer took his time to walk through the shop, eyeing the shelves like they were unusual strangers in the street and then, he got to you at the back of the bookshop. Your first costumer was a man. 

He was tall. Not too tall, but just enoguh to make him able to look at some of the upward shelves without having to raise his head too much. His skin was white, giving a nice contrast with the black coat he wore. He had a moustache and you could only see a few strings of his brown hair, due to the cap he wore.

Then, you realized. After taking notice of the cap, the fine clothing made sense. No ordinary man in Birmingham had such fine clothes to wear, especially not in the middle of the week, during the lunch break time of the factories. Oh no, that man absolutely did not work in a factory. That man was a Peaky Blinder. His only bosses were the Shelbys and the Shelbys only. 

"May I help you, sir?" you asked him with a polite smile, pushing to the back of your mind the realization you had just come to. It didn't matter who he was outside Mr. Cuthbert's bookshop. He was a costumer. Who clearly, for the way his eyes were going from one shelf to the other, intended to buy a book. 

He focused his eyes on you and you saw that his stare wasn't harsh or the one of a demon, as many people said the Peaky Blinders were. His eyes were kind, even though there was an agitation in them that you couldn't quite comprehend. Maybe not even he could. "Yes" he said simply and as you kept staring at him, waiting for further information, the man looked even a bit disconcerted, like he wasn't used to having such attention upon him. "It is my sister's birthday this week and Ada, well, she really likes books, has a great shelf of them at her house. So I thought it would be a good idea to you know, give her a new book as a gift"  

You couldn't help but smile. That man, whomever he was, seemed so genuine in everything. You could see the care in his expression when he spoke of his sister. It was a nice thing to see. The stories you had heard about the Peaky Blinders seemed to be all wrong. He was a normal person. Not some crazy, openly violent man. 

"Do you have any specific book in mind?" you asked him, hands joined in front of your body and excitement filling your body because that was apparently going to be a successful sell. The man just squeezed his lips on a thin line, eyes going to the floor  as if he was embarrassed. It got to you. "Don't worry, I am sure we can work something out. What kind of books does she like?" 

He watched as you moved around the place graciously. Clearly you knew every corner of that place, every shelf, every single book and where it was. You looked at a particular spot, frowned then moved on like there wasn't anything interesting for whatever you wanted him to take to Ada. "Well, she's a communist, so she does like politics" 

"Very well" you walked towards the politics shelf, searched the titles, but nothing particularly got your attention or seemed fitting. You turned back to the man. "Does she like classics that have to do with politics?" 

"I think so, what do you have?" he asked, seeming kinda excited for what you would come up with. He accompanied you as you went to shelf on the other side of the corridor and pulled out a book. "Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo. It's centered around the French Revolution" 

The man looked down at the floor again as a quite nervous laugh escaped his mouth. "I don't think that is a good idea. France does not give my family the best memories, you see" 

"You fought the war?" you asked, smile fading a bit because of the seriousness in his tone. Maybe that's where his agitation was from. Maybe, he never did get back from France at all. He only nodded in agreement, still not looking at you. "Thank you, for your service" 

He gave out a little smile, but you knew by the way the corner of his lips didn't rise too much that he was anxious to change the subject. Honestly, see the obvious hurt in him made you want to change it either. "Alright, no France. What about Bram Stoker's Dracula?" 

"Dracula?" he frowned, eyes meeting yours in utter confusion at such a strange name. 

The fact that he didn't knew about it made you smile as you began to describe que novel's story to him with a mysterious tone in your voice to cause suspense. "It's about an old man, Count Dracula, who lives in a castle and feeds on the blood of young women to survive. Sometimes he kills them so they can join him in the after life and also drink blood from innocent people" 

The man laughed due to your clearly forced misteirous tone and the way you raised your eyebrows at him while speaking, seeming to forget the previous sadness that had overwhelmed him with the memories of the war. You were glad for it. "That sounds bloody awful, love" 

You could not help but also laugh, trying to ignore the heat that took a hold of your face when he apparently without thinking, called you love. "It is, actually" then you shrugged, passing your hand through the said novel's cover at the shelf. "But is a fine horror book" you crossed your arms over your chest and squeezed your eyes in his direction. "Be honest with me now, will your sister like this one?" 

He squeezed his lips again, this time his features assumed a expression that clearly said 'sorry'. "I don't think so. Ada is a feminist. I think she would not like a story where a monster man kills women and faces no consequences" 

"That is a very good point" you said with a sight and then turned around, biting your lower lip as you thought and thought about more options. The challenge on your very first sell was being quite exciting and you could say, interesting. Much of it of course, was because of that man. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head and you turned back to the Peaky Blinder with a smile. "What about On the Origin of Species? It's a book about pure knowledge, scientific one, about evolution. No France, no monster that slaughters women" 

The man gave it a minute of thought and then returned your smile. "Knowledge and evolution. It does sounds like Ada" you both felt silent for a moment and then, he cleaned his throat and nodded towards the book you had just gotten into your hands. "I'll take it" 

"Very well" you motioned for him to follow you and then made your way towards the back of the shop again, placing it in the cashier. "You want it wrapped up as a gift?" he quickly agreed and you raised two options of gift wrap in the air. A green and a blue one. He chose the green one. "You can also add a small card if you want" 

"That is nice, thank you" he said and again, as you looked at him, the kindness in his eyes seemed to shine out from everything else. 

You grabbed a gift card from the inside of a box where they were kept and placed a black pen upon it. "You can write it or if you want, I can write it for you" 

"You should write it, I bet your handwriting is better than mine" he said and you chuckled, nodding as you agreed to his request. 

"What do you want it to say?" you waited as he clearly thought about the question, looking unsure. With one of his hands, he took off his cap and then passed the other one through his hair. When he claned his throat, you were ready to start writing. 

"Dear Ada, happy birthday" he looked at you as if that was it but then, seeing the expression on your face that clearly indicated you wished him to talk more, he thought for a second and then continued. " Since you like books so much, I hope you will like this one, that a very nice girl helped me pick" as you wrote with a smile on your face, you did your best not to raise your eyes to meet his. "I know I am not always a very good brother, but I love you. Happy birthday, Arthur" 

"That was beautiful" you told him, letting go of the pen and starting to wrap up the gift carefully, slowly, in no rush to let the Peaky Blinder go away. Arthur. His name was Arthur. It was a beautiful name. Suited him just fine. 

"Alright, then" his eyes went to the floor again, seeming now embarrassed because of your words. 

You finished to wrap the gift in silence, then when it was done, you sighted and looked at the man. "If you want us to deliver the gift at your sister's house, in case you're busy, we have a delivery boy for such" 

"That sounds good, I appreciate that" he replied. 

You nodded in agreement and got a piece of paper, to then grab the pen again. "Can you tell me her adress, please?" he did so, and you wrote it down so the boy Mr. Cuthbert had hired a little while before you could do his part of the job later. "He is supposed to look for Ada...?" you left the question in the air, waiting for him to answer, eyes still on the paper. 

"Ada Shelby" 

Your eyes snapped up on the very same instant. 

Shelby. 

His sister was Ada Shelby. 

He was Arthur Shelby. 

"Something wrong, love?" he asked, and he didn't seem harsh like you expected him to, for the way you not in the slightly hid just how astonished you were to know his identity. His eyes were still kind, but a part of the previous sadness had come back. 

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me" you wrote down Ada Shelby and then left the paper upon the gift, at the corner of the cashier. 

"I'm used to that kind of reaction by now" he said with a nervous laugh, that carried absolutely no humor at all in it. Even if he was indeed used to the said kind of reaction, he clearly did not like it. You felt guilt consume you. "How much do I owe you?" 

You told him the price, still lost in your thoughts and cursing yourself for being so stupid and rude. So rude. He gave you the money, you placed it in the due place. "Have a nice day" he told you and then turned around to leave, placing his cap back in his head and then his hands went to the pockets of his clothes. 

You watched him leaving with a intense feeling of exasperation, tried to think fastly enough to say something and then before you could even really process what you were actually going to do, the words left your mouth. "Mr. Shelby?" he turned back around as he heard you calling, a bit of gentleness in his features. "If you ever need to buy another book, I am sure I can help you find something good" 

His lips curled up in a smile, a pure one. A bit of the guilt you felt left your body like he had just taken it completely away, just by smiling again. "I'll remember that, love" 

And then, Arthur Shelby left the bookshop.

[sapphichorrorwrites]

Undertones Of Sadness part 1

author's playlist: Kang Sae Byeok x Jiyeong

AU where Jiyeong and Sae Byeok met each other years ago when they had the same crappy job, and Sae Byeok reminisces on whatever they had back then.

It was going to be one huge chapter, but I decided to split it into two so I don't spend forever writing this.

How long had it been since Sae Byeok had last seen Jiyeong? She couldn't remember. It had been a while. Time had passed, the tick-tock of the clock reminding her every day that whatever happened then, didn't matter now. She was laying in her bed, looking up at the blank ceiling. What a crappy apartment. She could see the white paint peeling off. She might have been going crazy, but it looked like her face.

Yeah, time had passed. She still felt the same though.

From time to time, she considered calling her. Maybe every couple of days. Did she even have the same number? Had she left the job at that terrible store? Sae Byeok still remembered her boss screaming at them. It wasn't fun, but then again, she had gotten the money from that job, grabbed her brother, and left Seoul. She wasn't living in riches, but the money was enough to ground herself. The apartment was small and terrible and had the thinnest walls possible, but she did manage to pay for the apartment in a medium city (she didn't like small towns. People felt like they had the right to stick their noses in her life, and she was too guarded to let it happen).

Jiyeong was... Small. She remembered her as being very small and annoying, and very bright. She had no family name. She never talked about her family to anyone. They had this... Unspoken bond, this quiet alliance where they always had each other's back but never said so out loud. Sae Byeok would never ask for help, and Jiyeong was the same, so it was nice to have someone they didn't have to ask.

She rolled over onto her stomach, looking at the black screen of her phone. She always considered calling. Or texting. Maybe just checking how she was. She never quite understood how she felt about Jiyeong. She remembered meeting her.

"I guess you're the new cashier." She had smiled that day, looking up at Sae Byeok's blank expression. "Nice to meet you too. What's your name?"

"Sae Byeok." She said, already thinking of ways to dodge any other questions. Jiyeong looked down at a piece of paper.

"Oh. So you're the moving person." She frowned. Sae Byeok had been hired to move boxes and organize things, and she could see the girl thought it was weird that she would. She was tall and skinny, and didn't look very strong. "I guess there's something in the back you need to organize, them. And some new jackets you need to count."

"Kay." She was already flying past the other girl.

"Hey!" Sae Byeok stopped and took a deep breath before looking back.

"What?" She tried not to sound annoyed. If she did, the other girl ignored it. She put her hand forward for Sae Byeok to shake.

"Jiyeong." She hesitated a bit before shaking it, and then disappeared into the store.

Jiyeong was always bright-eyed, always smiling. It was annoying. Sae Byeok hated working with her for the first few months, because she always just felt like a terrible person for hating her. She hadn't done anything wrong, she was just... Weird.

It was the little things that made her change her mind, little by little. The first thing was when a customer decided they didn't like Sae Byeok for whatever reason. Maybe it was her silence. Maybe they just didn't like her face. Whatever. They kept bugging her, asking her for a bunch of unnecessary information.

"What's your family name, dear?"

"Kim." She lied.

"Where are you from?"

"Here."

"I've never seen you around."

"Seoul is a big city."

Safe to say, they were getting annoyed, and so was Sae Byeok. It was an endless back and forth and she couldn't really react properly, because they would complain to her boss and she would get fired. It had been only a couple of months since she had decided to get a regular, normal job, and so far she was hating it, but it was important for the sake of keeping her brother. She was doing her best to keep the illegal activities to a minimum.

Suddenly, she heard something fall in the back. It was a huge noise. Surely, the customer had heard it too. She looked to the register, but it was empty. She could swear Jiyeong was there just a few minutes ago.

"Yah, Sae Byeok!" She heard her voice. "I dropped a box! Could you come here and help me, please?"

As she passed by Jiyeong, she could swear she had seen her wink.

A few days later, when they were closing the store, was the first time Jiyeong had asked her out.

Well. Not exactly. She hadn't asked her out romantically.

"Hey, Sae Byeok." She had said, over the sound of the huge metal door being closed. Sae Byeok was on her knees, locking it at the bottom.

"Hm?"

"Do you want to grab some coffee?" She froze.

"It's a little late for coffee, no?"

"A drink, then." She tried to think of an excuse. "Or we could get some dinner?" She remembered the incident with the customer, and decided it would only be polite to agree. Then she wouldn't owe Jiyeong anything. Maybe she could grab something to take home too, and Cheol would have some fancy dinner too.

"Fine." Jiyeong lit up even more. She looked like she thought Sae Byoek would say no. "Where to, then?" Jiyeong grabbed her wrist and started dragging her along.

"I know a place."

The whole way, Sae Byeok's eyes were glued to Jiyeong's hand on her wrist. She was wearing a pretty thick oversized green jacket, but Jiyeong was touching her under it. She felt electric and dizzy, like she had already drunk a full bottle of hard liquor. She gulped, thinking about snapping her wrist away but knowing full well that she wouldn't.

She really needed to throw some cold water on her face.

"We're here!" Finally, Jiyeong let go of her wrist, and Sae Byeok timidly rubbed her wrist to get rid of the sensation of electricity running through her skin. Then she looked up, at a crappy bar and restaurant not too far away from where they worked. "This is my favorite place."

"It looks..."

"Terrible, I know. But the food is very good."

Sae Byeok wanted to smile, for some weird reason. She didn't understand why, but there was some warmth in her chest. She scratched her nose to hide it, and once her hand had left her face, it was gone. Just a split second of madness, hopefully now gone forever.

They had tteokbokki, with some cheap beer. She could see what Jiyeong was talking about. The food was amazing, although the place was terrible. It was the best meal she had ever had, though maybe it was because she was so mesmerized by Jiyeong. At the time, she tried not to give in to the feeling, but by now she understood that that was what it was.

"You're not really from around here, are you?" Asked Jiyeong.

"Are you?" She dodged.

"I am." She looked longingly at the wall, and Sae Byeok recognized that look. She was somewhere else, lost inside her head. She couldn't pinpoint if she was at a good place or a bad place inside her head. "Though I've been away for a while." Sae Byeok slowly shook her head up and down.

"Anywhere good?"

"No." She smiled. "Why did you take the job back at the store, though? It's not the best ever."

"It pays."

"I guess. But you could do better." She smiled. "You look smart enough."

"Thank you." She took a bite to give herself some time, and Jiyeong did the same. "You too."

Their conversations were always like that: they danced around the real subjects, and they talked vaguely about things. There was never any real information being exchanged, but some feelings seemed mirrored. She saw herself in Jiyeong, a strange, new version that she didn't fully understand.

But still, there was this understanding between them. Every time one of them needed help, the other did what was possible. Every Thursday, Jiyeong dragged her to the restaurant. Sometimes, particularly on the weekends, they met at a park nearby and sat together in silence, appreciating the sights.

And most importantly, they never asked about each other's pasts.

She sighed on her bed, reluctantly dialing the familiar number. She still didn't press the call button, choosing to just... Stare at it. She had only ever called it once, and Jiyeong had never called her. She didn't know why she did, back then.

Her little brother had made friends at school, and he had asked for a sleepover. It was the first time since she got him from the orphanage that she was going to be away from him for an entire day, and it made her anxious. She agreed very reluctantly, and now she was alone at home, staring at nothing. Jiyeong had given Sae Byeok her number only a couple of days ago, with the excuse that they might need to get their stories straight over something that had happened at work. Once the loneliness and the fear had gotten too big to fit inside her heart, she called.

Jiyeong showed up at her door a little later. Sae Byeok stood up to let her in, and then sat on the floor. The newcomer wandered around for a little bit, taking in the blandness of the small studio apartment. There was nothing. No decorations, barely any furniture... And a sad tall girl sat on the floor.

"Why did you call me?" Jiyeong said, sitting beside her.

"... I don't know." She paused. "I guess I just needed company."

"Oh." Was she weirded out? Did she not like that? "Do you live alone?"

"No." Once more, she needed to pause before continuing on with her sentence. "I have a little brother."

"How old is he?"

"Ten."

"That's young." Sae Byeok chuckled.

"Yeah."

They stayed in silence for a while. Jiyeong put her arms around Sae Byeok, and she didn't know why, but Sae Byeok let her head fall on Jiyeong's shoulder. She was definitely taller, but she felt smaller then. She didn't cry, but Jiyeong still kept rubbing her arm as if she was. She didn't know why either, but she grabbed Jiyeong's free hand with both of hers, encompassing it entirely.

"Did something happen to your brother?" Jiyeong asked, trying to understand what was going on, probably confused by the other's sudden change.

"No." Another pause. "Kind of."

"What happened?"

"He's on his first sleepover."

"Oh."

"It's stupid." Once again, there were no tears, but her voice sounded as if she was. It was trembling and small.

"It's not. It' sweet that you care."

She kissed the top of Sae Byeok's head. It was a... Confusing moment, to say the least. Because Sae Byeok was sad, but a couple of butterflies appeared in her stomach. And she didn't move. She didn't want her feelings to show, so she let them bubble inside of her. It was... Overwhelming. Excruciating. She wanted to scream.

"It will be alright." Jiyeong continued. "I can stay over, if you want. To keep you company."

"Don't you have anyone to miss you at home?"

"No." She could hear the smile on Jiyeong's voice, the type of misplaced one she always carried. "I live alone. It must be nice to have someone." Sae Byeok chuckled.

"I'm sure you're not completely alone."

"I really am."

"No, you're not. You have me." Sae Byeok didn't know what possessed her not to keep her mouth shut. She regretted it instantly. She wanted to run and hide. But Jiyeong held her hand more firmly, and squished her arm, and kissed the top of her head again.

"Then you have me, too."

Sae Byeok must have lost her mind, but her lips met Jiyeong's and she lost herself in them. She was expecting her to push her away, slap her in the face. To storm out and tell her to find another job. Instead, her hands found Sae Byeok's hair and cheek, just as Sae Byeok's found her waist. In her head, there were sirens. This is a bad idea. Stop while you can. Even then, there was this sort of desperation she didn't know was there before, and she could never stop even if she wanted to.

And truth be said, she didn't want to.

[golbrocklovely]

ugh girl i feel u with the job stuff. i work part time too and when i first started a little over 2 months ago i got at least 3 days a week and now im barely getting 1 day a week maybe 2 if i get lucky or get called in to cover a shift. i think they hired way too many people which is annoying af

i've been working at my job for like two almost three years now. and i swear recently they have been giving me more and more reason to quit, which is hilarious bc i'm their best worker, and that's not even a joke. every manager and co-worker i've had agree.

but it literally took them til last month to finally make me employee of the month....

and then when i started working freight there, bc originally i was a just a cashier/sales associate, they promised me a raise and never gave me it. i got one later, but it was still less than what they promised.

and then when all sales associates got a raise of a dollar, the managers acted as if we should be lucky we got one. like?????? i work harder than you and you STILL make more than me lmao

and what's funny is that they give me and my one freight co-worker extra hours any time there is any bc they know we are the best and also bc the other two ppl on our freight team are flaky and literally just quit this past week lol

so idk why they keep dicking me with these hours and act as if we don't have the time. they kept us on this schedule of tues/thurs since january. it's only been within the last 2-3 months that they will randomly throw me a bone and be like "you like working right? you like money right? come in and work saturday, the worst day ever to be in retail"

it's just... so annoying. if they cut my hours anymore, i won't qualify for my part-time benefits and if that happens, i'm fighting employees, managers, and customers in the parking lot lmaooo

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Night Shift

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,189

Warnings: a few bad language words (sorry Stevie), fluff, I think that’s all

Summary: Your bad day turns worse when you're given the night shift at work. But you find it has more perks than you original thought. 

A/N: Here it is! My first ever posted/published work! This is a bit new for me for quite a few reasons. 1. I usually write OCs. 2. I'm used to writing 3rd POV and past tense. 3. I like writing series and longer fics. 4k is actually pretty mild for me. Also, I'm planning on doing more first date fics with the Avengers, but we'll see if I keep up with that. Thank you and enjoy!

(Pictures not mine but collage is)

Today is not your favorite day. You woke up late, your laundry isn’t done because the machines were all being used when you tried, your roommate didn’t do the dishes so you had to do them before you left, your car broke down - meaning you had to take the Subway - and now you’re working an extra shift because your stupid coworker didn’t show up.

Who even comes in to get coffee at 9 at night? The sky is dark, the stars are out, and everyone should be getting ready for bed - including you. God. You love New York, but sometimes you wish the damn city would just go to sleep for once in it’s goddamn existence.

You’re practically asleep on your feet, getting ready to close in fifteen minutes, when the door opens, the little bell ringing in response. You rub your eyes and turn from where you’re wiping down the back counters to speak to the wackjob who wants coffee at this cursed hour.

You freeze, your eyes meeting stunning azures framed by dark lashes. Thick, soft, chocolate locks fall down past his ears and into those alluring eyes. Lips, perfectly pink and very tempting, pull up in a delicious smile. He’s got a jawline sharp as a knife, only accentuated by the dark scruff covering it. Jesus Christ this man is attractive. He’s also vaguely familiar…

He strolls up to the counter, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans that pulled taunt around his thick thighs. His shirt is pulled tightly across his shoulders, muscles flexing beneath the fabric, threatening to tear the material with every movement.

“Hello.” You thank whatever deity that might be out there that your voice doesn’t shake as you greet the gorgeous god of a man.

“Hi there, doll. Cody’s off today, huh?” Even his voice is breathtaking.

“Yeah. He didn’t show up. Is he a friend of yours?”

The man tilts his head in confusion, before his eyes light up realization. “Oh, no. No. I just come here a lot.”

“At nine at night?”

He shrugs, a small blush rising on his cheeks. “It’s the only time I get to myself really.” It clicks in your head who this man is when he raises his hand to rub the back of his neck. Black metal gleams in place of tanned skin.

“You’re Bucky Barnes!” You blink at him in disbelief. His hand quickly finds its way back to his pocket while he chuckles awkwardly. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. You’re one of my favorite Avengers! After Black Widow, obviously, but-” You stop rambling, feeling heat rise to your face. “God, I’m tired. Uh, what can I get you?” You punch in the order that he gives you and look up shyly. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

He smirks and leans on the counter. “How about a name, darlin'? Yours, specifically.”

You roll your eyes, unable to contain the snort you give. “I’ll be right back with your order, sir.” You start making his drink, avoiding his eyes that you feel watching your every move. Usually you had another worker helping to make drinks, but since there’s only ten minutes until closing, you’re alone to close up the shop tonight.

You also usually only write on the cup when there’s more than one person, but you find yourself writing down your own name on his cup. It is part of his order, after all.

“Here you go.” You repeat his order, handing his cup to him.

He raises an amused eyebrow. “You forgot-” You interrupt him by clicking your tongue and turning the cup in his hands. He looks down at it curiously, before grinning and reading the ink out loud. The way your name falls off his lips has you holding in a shiver. “Thanks, sugar.” You watch him leave the shop, whistling a nameless tune, and wonder if Cody would mind switching shifts more.

Turns out, Cody had been arrested, so your boss had to hire a new kid who, because of school, couldn’t do the night shifts. Which meant your shifts changed. Not that you mind all that much; it gives you more chances to see Bucky.

When he said he comes in often, he wasn’t lying. Occasionally he stays while you clean and lock up and the two of you get lost in conversation under the city lights outside the shop. He usually orders and leaves with a witty comment and a wink, probably off to save the world from aliens or Nazis. He always orders the same thing, but he always asks for a little something extra, different every night.

“The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Anything else?”

“Your phone number would be great.”

~

“I’ll get right on your drink, Buck.”

“Awesome. Can you add your favorite flowers to that, too? Thanks, sugar.”

~

“I’m gonna change it up today, dollface.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll have the usual, but on the side I want to know what your favorite dessert is.”

He’s such a charmer. You aren’t sure if he’s just flirting or if he actually likes you. You think maybe he does that with every girl - waitresses, cashiers, secretaries - and he’s just being friendly. You’re sure after being stuck as a brainwashed assassin for nearly a century, flirting and cracking jokes with people makes him feel more normal. Still, you can’t help but wish that maybe the relationship you have now would become…more.

It’s not until he shows up a few weeks after your first meeting that you finally get an answer to whether or not he really likes you.

The bell rings, signifying a customer coming into the shop. You know it’s Bucky by the watch on your wrist; in the past few weeks of working the night shift, only one other person came in at nine o’clock.

“Good evening, beautiful.” A smile lifts the corners of your mouth at the familiar smooth voice that you could listen to all day. “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

You straighten up and look over the counter. “It’s called inventory. How’s your day been, Buckaroo?”

“Better now that I get to see your pretty face.”

You roll your eyes, face heating up and a small smile gracing your features. “Give me a minute and I’ll have your drink done. Anything extra?”

“This is a bit riskier than normal, but I’ve been wanting to try it for a while. Can I get your schedule?”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion as he smirks confidently. “My schedule?”

“Yeah. I just need to know something.”

“What would that be?”

“You free on Saturday, doll?”

* * * * * * * *

Saturday comes much too slowly for your liking, especially considering he asked you out only two days prior. He didn't tell you what you'd be doing today, so you decide on a casual sundress that you can play off as fancy if you need it to be. The color and style compliments you and your beautiful features perfectly and you can only hope he agrees. Your roommate assured you you looked gorgeous before going out with some of their other friends this morning.

You're just putting the finishing touches on your outfit for the day when a knock on your door sounds throughout your apartment. You check your watch: 10:30 on the dot. Just like he said. You get up too quickly, causing you to trip on your own feet and stumble - but luckily you catch yourself before you fall. Feeling simultaneously embarrassed and relieved he didn't see your clumsy actions, you head to open the door.

A bouquet of your favorite flowers appeared once you open the door, bright cerulean eyes shining at you from behind them. He grins, said eyes scanning your figure. "You look pretty as a picture, doll."

You duck your head bashfully, taking the flowers from him. "Thank you." You not so subtly check him out as you put the flowers in a vase. Like always, Bucky is absolutely stunning: his brown locks frame his face, falling into those mesmerizing blues, which are even more so due to the dark blue t-shirt under the light bIue jean jacket hugging his muscled torso. Dark jeans pull taunt across those thighs, his large hands in his pockets casually. You find yourself frowning when you notice his left hand is covered by a black glove. You want to say something, but decide against it, too anxious to ruin the date with this god of a man.

He clears his throat, which brings your gaze back to his face. You feel yourself heat up at the smirk on his perfectly pink lips. "Uh, I, um, so...what are we doing today?"

"I thought we could have some fun today, since all you ever seem to do is work."

"I don't always work." You quickly defend. He raises a disbelieving eyebrow, making you drop your head again. "Okay. Maybe I don't get out much."

He chuckles. "Good thing. That way I get you to myself." There's that smug smirk again. "As for what we're doing, that's for me to know and you to find out. I'd wear walking shoes if I were you, though."

You give him a curious look, moving over to grab your keys, phone, and wallet, before slipping on your sneakers. "I don't get a hint or anything?"

"And ruin the surprise? Where's the fun in that?" You giggle a bit as the two of you head out your door and down the hall. "I didn't know if you mind motorcycles, so I just borrowed Steve's car." He tells you in the elevator.

You talk about motorcycles and your opinion of them as you walk out your building and into the bright Spring sun. Your eyes widen at the nice Camaro parked in the street that he leads you to. "Wow."

"Yeah." Bucky nods in agreement. "Tony had it custom made for Steve for their anniversary a few months ago."

"And he's allowing you to use it?"

Bucky chuckles, running a hand through his hair as a pink tint dusts his cheeks. "'Allow' is a strong word."

You laugh as he opens the passenger door for you. You thank him, sliding onto the nice brown leather seat. "Does he even know you have it?"

He shrugs, shutting the door and leaning into the open window. "He'll find out soon, I'm sure."

Another laugh escapes you, a smile adorning his lips at the sound. He walks around the car, doing a hood slide to make you chortle again. While you two start driving, you try to convince him to give you a hint, but he's stubborn, denying you answers with that annoyingly charming smirk of his.

You recognize the direction you're going after a while and bounce in your seat as you arrive. "Coney Island?"

"I haven't been here since before the War and I've been meaning to come see how it's changed." He told you with a grin. "Who better to come check it out with than the pretty dame who serves me coffee at nine o'clock without complaining?"

Rolling your eyes to cover how much comments affect you, you smile teasingly in return. "Have you always been such a charmer, Barnes?"

He parks the car before shooting you a wink. "Only to angels, darlin', and you're the first one I've met so far."

You inwardly curse, hating how easily flustered you get around him. He gets out of the car and you're about to follow when he opens your door for you and offers his hand to you like the gentleman he is. You take it, enjoying the feeling of your smaller one against his rough calluses, and he helps you out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

"You ready to have the time of your life, dolIface?"

"As long as you get me a treat." You joke, linking your arm with the one he offers.

"Like I wasn't going to?" He scoffs back. "Who do you think l am, sugar? Now c'mon. Fun's awaitin'."

You laugh, letting him drag you around, loving the child-like wonder in his pretty eyes. Whether or not you enjoy roller coasters, you have a blast: playing carnival games, eating food you both know is terrible for you, but tastes oh so good, and people watching the interesting crowds, all while teasing and playing around with each other. There's nothing better you can think of to do with your free day than goof off with Bucky, no stress or worries plaguing your mind like usual. He even wins you multiple adorable plushies! Being a super soldier wasn't just good for saving the world, evidently.

It was while you're eating lunch that you ask Bucky why he's wearing a glove. "I've already seen your arm. I don't mind."

He hesitates, opening his mouth before licking his lips nervously. "It's not...I know you don't. I just don't...I dunno. I don't wanna freak anyone out."

You frown and put down your food, leaning forwards on your elbows. "First off, I think you're an amazing person. Just throwing that out there. Second, I don't think anyone will mind. You're a hero. An Avenger. Basically a celebrity with a badass arm. And, finally, if anyone does say anything, I'll tell them off. Easy peasy."

He snorts at that, before looking at his gloved hand warily. You reach across the table to give both his hands a squeeze. He meets your eyes and you grin reassuringly back. "If you're not comfortable, that's okay. Just know that other people should never be the reason to hide yourself. Trust me."

"I do." He says genuinely. You give him a questioning look, playing with the tips of his gloved fingers. At his nod, you slowly start taking his glove off, giving him time to say no. He doesn't, letting you tug it all the way off. He blushes when you lift the smooth metal to your lips.

"So, what's next? Wanna win me one of those monkeys with the velcro hands?" He chuckles at your question, telling you he'd win you all of them if you asked. You giggle, tightening your hold on his hand and, after finishing the last bite of food, pulling him to the booth with the monkey prizes.

When it starts getting dark, Bucky convinces you to go on the Ferris Wheel with him, promising to hold your hand the whole time if you're scared of heights (even though you haven't let go of his hand or arm since lunch). It's one of the most stunning scenes you've ever seen. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon, a few stars dotting the darkened sky, a rare sight living in New York City. The aforementioned city's lights were turning on, causing the skyline to glow brightly. It's hard to think of anything bad about NYC when she looks like that.

"Wow. " You breath, enchanted by the city you've grown to love as home. "There's something almost...magical about it, don't you think?" You turn to Bucky, still captivated by the view, expecting him to be the same. After all, New York has been his home for over a century and so much has changed. Instead, you find him intently watching you, a small, adoring smile etched on his features. You smile shyly, unable to keep his gaze while he's looking at you like that - like you're the most enthralling thing he's seen, bewitching his heart and soul, even with the magnificent picture before you.

"Yeah...there is." He agrees, grabbing your chin between his left thumb and pointer finger gently, making your eyes meet. His right arm is around your shoulders, pulling you into his warm chest, heating you up from the chill the night is bringing.

Your heart drums hard against your ribs when he glances at your lips and you're sure he could hear it, even without his enhanced hearing. Your eyes lock onto his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them. You're suddenly so much closer, his right hand holding the back of your neck delicately while his left cups the side of your jaw. Your hands are gripping his jacket, noses brushing.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice comes out low and raspy.

"If you didn't, I'd probably smack you."

You feel his deep chuckle reverberate through his chest, which you just notice is pressed solidly against yours. Before you can process anything, his lips are slanted over yours. They're softer than you originally thought and they move expertly against yours. It surprises you, before you remember he's technically over a century old, so of course he has experience.

The kiss is over before you want it to be, but the need for oxygen gets too much and your lungs start to sting, so you pull back reluctantly, your hands now in his hair while he's holding your face tenderly.

"Speaking of magic."

You laugh, rolling your eyes as the Ferris Wheel starts turning again. "Who knew Bucky Barnes is such a sap?"

He smirks, leaning forwards to peck your Iips a couple times. "I prefer the term 'romantic'."

Once you get off, you hold onto his elbow, leaning against his shoulder. "Thank you for bringing me, Buck. I really enjoyed today."

"Well that's good considering we're not done."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, what?"

Bucky scoffs in amusement. "You didn't think that was all, didya, doll? The day's not over; the night's still young!" His right arm slings around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing your head.

"Okay. What's next?" You ask curiously. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on those delicious lips. "Another surprise?"

"Hope you're hungry, sweetheart."

"Dinner?"

Giving you a charming grin, he leads you back to the car. "Guess you'll have to wait 'n see, darlin’."

* * * * * * * *

"Buck.” You groan, toeing the ground nervously. The blindfold covering your eyes was keeping you from seeing anything and, to your embarrassment, you've already tripped more times than you care to admit. “Where are we? l feel like we've been walking forever. Can I take this stupid thing off yet?”

Bucky chuckles softly in your ear, holding you steady as you walk on the uneven surface beneath your feet. “We’re almost there, doll. I promise."

Letting out a huff, you let him lead you further along. Finally, after what feels like hours, though you know you're being dramatic and haven't been walking that long, he stops. "Stay right here," he mumbles, his hands that were on your shoulders leaving, along with his warmth behind you, with a kiss to your cheek.

"Haha. You're so funny."

A couple snickers leave his lips and you can just imagine the smile no doubt gracing his features - the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes adorably. You feel wind nip at your bare skin and shiver slightly, wondering where the hell you are.

"Okay. C'mere." His hands are on you again, the contrast of the two adding to the goosebumps the breeze was giving you. "Right here." You can practically feel his excitement and nerves as he positions you. "Alright. Ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be, I suppose."

His nimble fingers are suddenly at the edge of cloth covering your eyes, which he makes quick work of, tugging it off gently. "You can open your eyes, sugar." He chuckles, seeing your eyes tightly clenched shut. You do as he says and blink them open. The sight that meets you takes your breath away.

He brought you to a beach, which you had kind of already guessed due to the sad slipping through your shoes. In front of you, a blanket is spread out, being held at the corners by lanterns, which are connected by a string of fairy lights outlining the blanket. Pillows are scattered on the blanket, a picnic basket to the side while a single red rose is in a small vase in the center with rose petals surrounding the setup. He really is a romantic.

"Bucky. It's beautiful. When did you set this up?"

He rubs the back of his neck, turning red. You smile, enjoying the fact that you can make him just as flustered as he makes you. “Actually, the team helped me out a bit. It was originally just Natasha and Steve. But, uh, then Tony and Wanda found out and then...Sam."

You giggle, knowing his and Sam's brotherly relationship from previous conversation. "I bet he teased the shit out of you when he found out."

"Please," Bucky scoffs. "I'll be the butt of his jokes for at least a month. At least, this part of me will."

"Well, I love this side of you if that's worth anything."

He grins dashingly at you. "Then let the birdbrain tease, because that’s worth everything. Here." Taking your hand, he leads you over to the blanket and sits you down. "All those questions at the coffee shop and I never asked your favorite drink so I brought red, white, beer, Coke, Pepsi, root beer, and," he pulls out the last bottle he brought with a boyish smile. "Apple juice. There's water in 'ere too. And, o' course, the meal and the dessert, which I did ask about because I'm not a complete idiot."

Laughing, you can't help but pull him in for a kiss. "You're so cute."

He clears his throat, his face heating up while he rubs the back of his neck, tying his hair back in a knot. He hands out compliments like candy on Halloween but he can't take them to save his life. How adorable can one man be?

You two eat and talk about everything from hilarious childhood stories to what keeps you up at night. You love listening to his fascinating tales of playing through the 20s, scraping through the 30s, and fighting through the 40s. You especially love the way his face lights up when talking about his family, the Howling Commandos, and America's Golden Boy, both twink and tank stories.

After a couple hours, you find yourself wrapped in his warm jacket - which smelled amazing - leaning against him as he tells you about his new family. You sip on your preferred drink, your eyes fluttering shut, content to simply listen to his soothing voice talking about Clint and Scott's latest prank on Pietro.

"You tired, doll?" You hear him whisper tenderly, his arms around your waist while his thumbs run small circles on your sides.

You hum and look back at him over your shoulder. "Just feeling the moment." He smiles adoringly at you, kissing your temple.

"It's getting late anyways. We should get you home. Don't want your roommate worrying."

You scoff, but agree. You help him clean up and carry things to the car, despite his protests. You nearly fall asleep on the ride back, his big, warm hand resting comfortably on your thigh the whole way. He squeezes gently when you pull up to your building, murmuring lightly to wake you up.

Ever the gentleman, he walks you inside and helps you bring the armful of prizes he got you to your door. Once there, you unlock the door and lean against the frame, facing him.

"Thank you, James. As far as first dates go, this is by far the best one I've had."

He shoots you a smug grin. "Glad to hear that, beautiful. Does that mean if I asked for a second date you'd say yes?"

You give him a smirk back. "I'd say your chances are very good."

"And if asked for a goodnight kiss from the most gorgeous girl I've ever been blessed to be in the presence of?"

You giggle, ducking your head shyly. His hands grip your jaw, pulling your gaze back to him. He nudges your nose with his, whispering against your lips, "is that a yes?" AII you can think to do is nod. He smirks at your reaction, before he's pulling your lips against his. It's more passionate, less hesitant and experimental, than the few previous kisses you shared. He's angling your face to deepen the kiss, his hands tangle in your hair and his tongue prods your lips open, swallowing the little whimper you let out.

When you pull back, you're breathless, panting against his open month. "You workin' tomorrow, darlin'?" He rasps out.

"No." You try to collect yourself enough to answer, although it's hard with all your nerves on fire, his scent fogging up your brain. You manage to move your heavy tongue enough to say, "I have the weekend off."

A broad grin lights up his pretty face. "Great. I'll be over at nine. Have a nice night, sweetheart."

You nod, an airy "goodnight" leaving your lips. You watch him walk off, a pep in his step and his lips turned up. You lean back against your door, hugging all your new plushies to your chest, still wrapped up in his jacket, and let out a sigh.

You'll have to go visit Cody and thank him. After all, that dreadful night shift gave you the best day of your Iife.

[fire-the-headcanons]

Follow the Beacon Raven—Strictly Girl Time

[Link to Masterpost]

[Get in loser we’re going shopping (jk I love you all)]

"This one’s nice, but the red’s a little bright," Summer said, waving a sleeve in Raven’s face.

She backed away on reflex and swatted at it. "What are you doing?"

"Checking the color against your eyes. Ooh, this one’s not bad," Summer said, lifting one in a darker shade from the rack—though it had some ugly green ruffles along the cuffs and hem. "The lace wouldn’t be too difficult to pick off, and then we could put on some black trim instead. Unless you’d rather have black for the main color and use red for accents? There’s always lots of options in black."

"Um… I think I’d prefer long sleeves," she said, eyeing the dress’s thin straps. Gauntlets covered her brand most of the time, or the long-sleeved Beacon uniform, but either of those would be out of place at a party.

"Let’s look at black, then," Summer said, replacing the dress on the rack and rifling through the others. "I don’t see anything over here."

"...Why did you learn to sew?" Raven asked, following her down the aisle. From what she’d gathered, most students shared Tai’s attitude toward the skill—and then there was Summer, who could rival a lot of small towns’ tailors. She almost hated to admit it, but Summer was probably a little better with making new things, even if Raven was far more experienced with repair.

"The first year after we moved to Vale was hard. Dad had just died, and I couldn’t talk to any of my old friends…" she went quiet for a moment, hands hesitating on the fabric. "And we were living at Signal with our uncles while we looked for a house. Mom’s family made armor, so she grew up sewing. We made my Halloween costume together that year—she was trying to make me feel better, and help me get used to Vale since it was so different, and it just… we got a lot closer." Summer looked back up, beaming. "Halloween’s been my favorite holiday ever since!"

"That’s nice," Raven said, inspecting one dress that had good sleeves, but the gold applique on the waist looked too difficult to remove so she put it back. "We only learned so we could fix things. But it’s probably more fun when you’re not doing everything by hand."

"Ooh, what about this one?!" Summer demanded, holding up a long, flowing gown. It was fairly plain but the fabric was good quality. "It's practically a blank canvas!"

"I'll try it on and make sure it's big enough."

"I'll see if there's any curtains or skirts in your red we can take apart," Summer cackled, speeding out of the row.

Raven let her face slide back to neutral as the Huntress vanished. She still hadn't said anything about that night—but she would, there was no question. Raven had never seen her so angry.

The fitting room door creaked as she pulled it closed and slid the flimsy latch into place.

What did Summer expect from her? Qrow would know what to do—this all came so naturally to him. Talking to the teachers. Joining in Summer and Tai's jokes. Raven only felt lost.

If they got caught it would be her fault.

If they died it would be her fault.

The dress slid easily over her head, hanging loose on her shoulders as she tugged the skirt down over her pants. It was a little too big—perfect for altering—and the sleeves were form-fitting enough to hide her wrist. It would have to be enough.

"Raven?"

"Here." She didn't give herself time to think about it and headed back out into the store.

Summer beamed. Red spilled from her arms—she'd found the curtains she hoped for. "Do you like it?"

"Um—" Raven glanced down at her arms. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. But the style was simple and elegant, and the silky fabric draped in a way that was…well, dramatic, fluttering around her ankles when she moved. "Yes. I do."

Summer squeaked happily, clapping awkwardly but excitedly around the bundle. "Perfect! That was easy. Change back and let's grab something to eat, I'm starving."

Raven nodded, retreating back into the little stall. It was a nice dress… and it would be good to have something in her own colors. The armor that Beacon let her commission was the best clothing she had ever owned. And probably worth more than everything she'd ever stolen.

Most Branwens wore raided farmers' clothing, and that went double for the children. No point in making something better for someone who would grow out of it in a year.

She pulled her hair out from under her collar and finished tugging her shirt into place, staring at the dress hanging from the back of the door. Someone in Vale had thrown it away, basically. Something richer than Raven ever had before entering the Academy. She'd never thought of the tribe as poor, but now the idea sat as out of place in her mind as a parrot in a snowstorm.

"Come on," Summer said eagerly, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the line for the cashier. "Any ideas how you want to spruce it up?"

Raven stared at the dark silk in her hands. The Huntress had to be doing this for a reason, and she couldn't stand the waiting anymore. "Is this about Qrow?"

"Nah, I wouldn't ask him to wear a skirt again."

"...You know what I mean." Her fury that night, shoving Raven away from her brother. Sitting with him until they both fell asleep in each other's arms. She didn't really think either of them had done anything, but it still… felt like it meant… something.

What if it meant he wouldn't need her anymore?

Summer's brightness dimmed slightly, to a more manageable level. "…No, it's not about Qrow. It's about you."

Finally. They could get it over with.

"Yeah, see? That's what I mean. You hate me." She frowned, reconsidering for a moment. "...Or you hate everyone and I'm just next to you. I don't think I've ever seen you talk to someone who's not on our team…"

"I—I don't—"

"Raven, you don't have to like me," Summer said. That was… unexpected. "But we need to be able to work together and we can't do that if we're always at each other's throats. ...I'm the team leader, I'm responsible for making sure the three of you are okay. I just… I need to understand you better. What… what do you really think about me?"

About Summer? She was a Huntress. Completely at home in battle and fearless of flying in ways that made Raven feel ill just to think about. There was fire inside her—the same roaring blaze Bones had, and that Raven and Vanta could only ever hope to imitate. She was flawless strength. A forceful leader. Everything Raven wished she could be.

And yet, she coddled a man while he cowered and cried because of a dream.

"I don't…" Raven scowled at the dirty white flooring, trying to find words for the frustration. "I can't understand you. So many people in our class have never even left the cities—they have no idea what the world is like, but… you do. You've lost people. Lost your home. You've lived at the edge of the wild and at least have the sense to understand that there are things you don't know, things you haven't seen. And yet you still… you still hold onto childish things. Like the comics." She looked back at the Huntress's face. "I don't get it. What good is that fantasy?"

"I know the world is dark and horrible." Summer stared her square in the eye. "I'm going to make it better."

Raven snorted, without thinking. "What makes you think you can fix the world?"

"I didn't say fix." The words were as unyielding as her stance. "As long as we have Choice, some people are going to make bad ones—but I'm not going to stand on the sidelines and watch it happen. I'm going to make things better."

"...and the comics?"

"Gotta know what I'm aiming for. And, y'know, it's fun."

"But you'll never win."

"Well, all the best goals are unattainable."

Raven blinked. "…Huh?"

"I'll never be the best Huntress on Remnant, but I'll be better for trying. We can't eradicate the Grimm but we can't stop fighting. Nothing will ever be perfect—but that's not an excuse to give up. It's the reason that we can't."

Raven's hands tightened on the fabric as her gaze slid back to the floor. "...I don't think things can get better."

"But they have!" Summer said, surprised. "Look at what humanity has done in the past sixty years! The four Kingdoms are working together, fighting the Grimm instead of each other. You know two years ago had the lowest number of Grimm fatalities in recorded history? People are living longer. There's less hunger. Things are slowly improving between humans and the faunus. Child mortality is the lowest it's ever been. We're eradicating diseases—everything has gotten better."

The cashier beckoned them forward, and Raven set the dress on the counter while Summer handed over a few Lien. "...You didn't... really want to become a huntress, did you," she murmured. "You came here because of Qrow."

There wasn't a reason to lie. "...Yes."

"Well… what would you do? If you could do anything you wanted, what would you be?"

Anything? She'd get out of this den of lions and go back where she belonged, with Qrow and Vanta and Bones, where she was free and powerful, with the promise that one day they would lead their people.

But Bones was dead. Their only way forward was to kill Vanta. And Qrow…

"I can't do whatever I want," Raven said. "That's not how the world works."

Summer snorted. "And that's not how the game works. Come on—you're both safe no matter what you choose. You can go anywhere in the world and do anything you want. Even if it sounds silly." She scanned around the store, looking for something, and her eyes fell on a poster. "You could be a, a movie star! Or a Councilwoman!"

A Councilwoman. Raven nearly laughed—wouldn't that be rich.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Summer said, accepting their bag and thanking the cashier. "What about a teacher, like Professor Mesánychta—you like working with her, right? Or—oh, or a sailor! You could work on boats and see the world. And they're always hiring Huntsmen for protection, Qrow could go with you." beat "Being a Huntress or a farmer aren't your only choices."

...It had been nice. The salt smell of the ocean. Wind strong enough to make her feel like she was flying, without the sick twist in her stomach. Nothing on the horizon to hide attackers and some kind of Dust machinery scanning for Grimm below.

But no. The tribe—her family—needed her. She'd go home.

Wouldn't she?

"I don't know," Raven said, praying it was a lie. "...What about you?"

"Me? I—I've always wanted to be a Huntress. I…" her voice trailed off, brow furrowing. "...I'd go back to Anima and visit my dad."

"The… one that died?"

Summer snorted, but somehow in a way that didn't make Raven feel stupid. "No, the one that can fly and shoot lasers from his eyes."

How did she always do that? No matter what she said it never felt like an accusation. "I… I meant… why haven't you?"

"Mom always said it wasn't safe." She glared at her knees, hands tightening on the bag. "I guess… I guess I always knew someone killed him. I just didn't want to believe it."

Gods, what was she supposed to say? People weren't supposed to talk about the dead. "...I'm sorry."

"You two don't talk about family besides each other. ...Did you ever… get to meet your parents?"

"We knew our father." Raven answered, but the Huntress seemed to expect more. "He… started our training. Before the Huntsman. ...He was good to us."

"Let's write them letters."

Raven was startled enough to meet her eye. "Huh?"

"Since Mom and I can't visit him we both write him letters instead, and burn them so they'll reach the afterlife." Summer dug the receipt out of the bag and tore it in half, leaving two hand's length pieces. "I promise it helps. Here—" she grabbed a couple pens from the basket next to the register and passed one to Raven along with half the paper.

"But—"

Summer grabbed her hand and dragged her over to the furniture section near the front window, plopping down on a little couch and dragging Raven with her.

But it was stupid to talk to someone who couldn't talk back, and weakness that she still wanted to. "...I wouldn't know what to say."

"Just tell him you miss him," she said, spreading out her scrap on the short table placed between the rows of seats and beginning to write.

Raven stared down at the pen. This was objectively pointless.

Hello— she hesitated for half a moment, but no. It was too strange. —Bones. The words were tiny, too small for Summer to read over her shoulder. I miss you. I know it makes me weak. I don't want to stay in this place. Her eyes stung. They're going to kill Qrow and it's going to be my fault because I can't pretend to be one of them. I don't understand them. I don't understand him anymore either. He wants to die. It hurt when you died. It hurt so much I can still feel it burning sometimes. I wanted to learn from you and not Huntresses. If I tell Qrow how to control the tribe then he won't need me anymore. If I stay here they'll kill me. Did it hurt when yo

Raven gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to throw the pen aside and leave. This was stupid—she sounded like a frightened child.

Something brushed her shoulder and she recoiled, but the Huntress pulled her into an embrace anyway.

Next Chapter: Taiyang—A Glass of Punch

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The sun was rising, leaving streaks of fire in a dying sky. The birds thronged out of their nests like a miasma of locusts, blotting out the light with their silhouettes. Mortal chattel swarmed the streets, beginning the trek to their drudgery.

I lounged on my chassis, sipping a cup of wine, a prince of darkness waiting to descend upon his dominion. I was the lord of things of the night, a member of the superior species. A vampire, in short. A bloodsucking, maiden-seducing, mind-controlling fiend.

As the clock struck 7, I drifted upright and out the door. Straightening my collar, I surveyed the hallway before me with an aura of disdain. With careful, elegant steps, I glided down the stairs and out the door.

Across the street from me stood my sanctum, the place I would spend my sunlight days. A throne worthy of one such as I, a mighty fortress-

Ah, who am I kidding? It was a convenience store. I was a convenience store worker. A vampire convenience store worker. The only thing I ruled over was rows of snacks. It was humiliating, but it paid the rent and the blood-price.

"Davey? Ah, good thing you're here, dearie,” Mrs Carter, a regular customer, said. Despite being several hundred years younger than me, she persisted in treating me like a little boy. “I've just run out of sugar! Jeannie is coming over today, and I was gonna bake some cookies for the littlies. They love the stuff, you know?”

I nodded absentmindedly as I unlocked the shutters of the shop, flicking on the fluorescent lights. Did she even know I was a vampire? With some people, it was hard to tell. “Come on in, Mrs Carter,” I told her, flipping the sign to ‘Open’.

“Speaking of which, do you have a girlfriend? A handsome young man like you ought to have a girl,” she said with a suggestive wink.

I gave her a close mouthed smile. “No, not really,” I said. Even the maiden-seducing part was a lie, I thought gloomily. Other vampires wanted nothing to do with me, other inhumans thought I was a joke, and mortals were too scared of me. There were those who liked the idea of dating a vampire, but those scared _me_. Besides, those sorts were looking for a prince of darkness, not a prince of restocking shelves.

"What a shame, dearie,” Mrs Carter said, humming to herself. “Say, my youngest is about your age, and she doesn't have a man either. Why don't I arrange a nice little date between the two of you?”

Her daughter was most assuredly not my age, I thought wryly. It would be more appropriate to date Mrs Carter. Nonetheless, I said, “Why not? Tell her I'm free every night.”

Mrs Carter brightened up, handing me her carton of eggs and a tenner. “That's the spirit, dear!”

I returned a handful of change. The nice thing about the compulsive counting of vampires was that I always knew how much change there was in the cash register. “Have a nice day, Mrs Carter,” I told her.

She waddled out of the store, satisfied, leaving me alone in my realm of microwave meals. That was generally how my days went. I worked in a quiet part of town, where we were lucky to see more than a dozen customers a day. There was no glory in it, no adventure or romance.

People tended to think of vampires as terrifying, powerful beings who played incomprehensible games of intrigue amongst themselves. By and large, they weren't wrong. Most of my kind loved sticking their fingers in every pie and their noses in everyone else's business. But some of us didn't like the high life, and some of us… Well, we really didn't have a choice.

I lounged against the counter, keeping a safe distance from the morning sunlight that filtered through the windows. My manager had had UV protection installed (as per the guidelines for diversity-friendly hiring), but it really was not enough. So I lurked in the comfortable shadow of the cashier, elbows on the plastic table and hands clasped together. In another time, another realm, I could almost be a tycoon making a business deal, I thought sadly.

Then the door opened, and I was back to reality. "Hello, and welcome to Smiley Mart, where we wear smiles all day! How can I help you?"

[cubeswhump]

Will Not be a Victim for my character, Blondie.

The neglected Blondie. I need to get back to my Powers Verse too. And the immortal bitches. I have a Sweetie and Michelle story drafted though.

Warnings for mentions of violence, referenced torture, bit of ableism. Pretty tame compared to what I usually write.

The phone rang from her nightstand, and again, and again. Then it started pinging with texts: Terry-Ellen has spoken to me but my own daughter won’t answer her phone.

I’ll be arriving at your house at 6PM.

Blondiw growled and dialled the number. The phone rang only twice before the deep voice came on the other line: “Oh, so you’ve decided to stop ignoring me?”

“Fucking hell, Dad. I’m twenty-three,” Blondie reminded him. “Chill.’

"Language, Melinda,” he scolded lightly. “I don’t care of you’re eighty-three. You’re still my daughter and we just got you back. I need to be sure that you’re okay.”

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Are you really?"

Blondie pinched the bridge of her nose. Don't call him a nosy twat, don't call your dad a nosy twat. She breathed out. "You hired a fucking bodyguard for me. "That's humiliating enough, and now you're prying into my life like I'm a child."

"Language. Good lord, you take after your mother," he sighed. "Who are you embarrassed in front of? You haven't left your house in more than two weeks." His voice was so even and annoyingly calm. Blondie swallowed back the snarl crawling up her throat. "Is it really prying to be concerned about my daughter? I just want to know that you're okay. I haven't seen you since-"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop by tomorrow. No need to stop by." She knew her father would have some words if she saw the state her house was in. Tej wasn't hired to clean after the slob, and no one had patched up the hole Blondie punched in the living room.

"Are you sure? If I come over you can stay home and rest," he offered.

"You just got on my ass for staying in my house!"

"You know that is not what happened, Melinda."

"I'll be there at eleven in the morning, okay?"

"I'll expect you by twelve."

Blondie huffed and hung up as he chuckled.

***

Tej was prodding her. "Get up. We've gotta go soon."

Blondie lifted her head abd ahot rhe other wonan a glare. "There's no we. You're staying home."

"You know that's not how it works," she said, unfazed. "I'll make you coffee."

"Don't." Blondie pyr one foot on the floor and grabbed one crutch. The other must have fallen over at some point in the night, and Blondie whacked Tej with the crutch in her hand when the thin woman tried to help her retrieve the fallen one. "Scram, bitch."

"Very nice, " Tej said sarcastically, handing her the crutch anyway. She caught the crutch Blondie swung at her. "Have you ever considered treating the help like people?"

"Go on, call me a bitch. There's nothing in your contract that says you can't insult me, yeah?"

"I'll leave you to get dreased," Tej said dryly. "Your hair looks nice. Did you wash it?"

She shut the door behind her just in time for the television remote to crash into the wood.

Blondie had only worn bath robes and undergarments for the last few weeks and she hadn't gotten to modifying any pants to her new body. Skirts? No, fighting in a skirt wasn't a great idea - if she needed to fight. Fights were always possible.

Shorts. A pair of shorts, one sock, one combat boot. The left bood sat all alone and sad. She kicked it over. Hair in a bun.

"Your coffee, Blondie." Tej shoved the steaming mug right in her face while Blondie was trying to sneak out the front door.

"I told you not to make me coffee," Blondie grumbled.

"Coconut creamer and one Sweet-N-Low," Tej tempted her, voice sing-song.

"I'm getting coffee on the way to my dad's, shithead." And she was out tje door, slamming it behind her - or trying to. Tej caught it just before it closed and slipped out after her.

"Want me to drive? You can relax," Tej offered, reaching for the keyring in Blondie's hand. Blondie jerked it away.

"I'll relax when you're dead. It's my fucking car."

"Cool, cool."

Tej was in the passenger's seat before Blondie had even opened her door so she couldn't even lock her out. Tej smiled at her knowingly. Blondie gripped the steering wheel sp hard her fingers turned white.

Tej tried to make conversation throughout the drive and Blondie turned the volume up a few notches every time she opened her mouth. After a million years, she pulled up in front of the coffee shop.

"I'll get you an iced mocha cappuccino," Blondie said as she got out of the car. Tej was stepping out too.

"Nah, I wanna look at the menu," she replied. Blondie squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, reciting the "calming phrases" from her counseling sessions as a teenager.

When was this place ever this busy? Blondie sighed as she joined the line, Tej at her side. "You know, you're paying for your own shit."

"That's fair," Tej shrugged. "Your daddy pays me weekly."

Blondie sneered at her.

The line inched forward. A woman and her child joined. Seriously, did the entire fucking town want coffee right now?

"Wow..." the woman said, her voice hushed. "What happened?"

Blondie didn't realize the woman was talking to her until she felt a tap on her shoulder.she turned around, finding the woman's wide eyes on her still-bandaged stump. The little girl stared too, reaching for Blondie's crutch. Blondie jerked it away from her sticky hand and scowled, but neither noticed.

"What happened?" the woman asled again. "Why don't you get a prosthetic leg?"

"I pesteres someone with intrusive questions and she pulled out a machete," Blondie snapped. The woman recoiled.

"Ma'am, you're being very insensitive, and you should teach your child not to touch anyone's mobility aids." Tej launched right into a lecture. "Please treat my friend as you would treat-"

Blondie's temper boiled over. She raised one crutch and bashed it into the woman's knee. Tej's hand clamped over her own mouth as the woman fell over with a screech, dragging her daughter down with her.

"Oops. My bad." Blondie turned her back on the pair.

"Did you see that?" the woman cried as she got back to her feet. The cashier looked over from the customer he was dealing with, frowning.

"I'll be out fast," Blondie promised the cashier. "No trouble."

They walked out with their coffees and gluten-filled breakfast, Blondie's coffee spouting steam that smelled of coconut... Something she could have gotten at home. Tej predictably got a mocha cappuccino.

"I mean," Tej finally said during their resumed drive, mouth full of bagel, "not that I blame you much, but public battery isn't a food luck."

Blondie turned the radio up higher.

The guard let them into the gated, cookie cutter community. Towering houses were identical, painted a cream not a shade lighter or darker than the house nextdoor. Perfect gardens, no blade of grass even a centimeter overgrown. One house had flowers a different shade of pink than the rest. Blondie might have struggled to differentiate the houses if Chase weren't waving frantically at the end of one driveway.

"Melinda, love, how are you?" The large man was coming at her with open arms as she stepped out of the car. She was too slow thinking of an excuse to get out of hugging her stepdad, and he squeezed her tight.

"Peachy," she told him.

He hugged Tej too before letting both women into the house. He was talking a mile a minute and Blondie let Tej handle the conversation.

"I see you brought beverages. No tea then?" he asked. Blondie shook her head. "Oliver's in his study."

"Tell him hi for me," Tej chirped, and Blondie decided she would not do that. She hurried away when the other two started discussing how much they lift at the gym.

115 pounds? Unimpressive, Tej.

She didn't bother knocking on the mahogany door, throwing it right open. "Yo."

Oliver swiveled around in his chair like a James Bond villain. He even looked the part with his coiffed grey hair and serious expression. "Good morning, Melinda. You were almost on time. Have a seat."

"Nice to see you too," Blondie said sarcastically, falling back ontp the plump sofa.

"Oh, no, you're covered in crumbs! Why didn't you brush yourself off outside?"

"Just vacuum later. I had a muffin."

Oliver sighed, turning back to his laptop. "Depending on your recovery time, we'll get you fitted for prosthesis." He flicked through images. Some were very realistic and even matching her skin color, others clunky and robotic, some abstract and hardly resembling a limb. "We should find a design that fits your activity level, preferably a more realistic one. No one has to know. At that point we'll get you to that physical therapist I've been talking to, and-"

"Whoa, hold on a minure. Don't I get a say?" Blondie snapped. "And who said I want a realiatic one? Maybe I don't want to pretend I'm fucking normal."

"Whatever you want, darling. But I'm not going to let you hold yourself back."

"You tell me to take it easy abd slow down and then you get on my ass for being behind the curve. The fuck is that?"

Oliver sighed. He turned back tp his daughter, choosing his next words carefully. "I know how much you enjoy your hobbies. I think it'll be better for your mental health if you get back into dance and martial arts soon."

Back into dance. She was already the largest girl in the studio, dwarfing the tiny instructor even when she was twelve. Skilled as she was, she never had a ballerina's body and her instructor's main complaints were her thundering footsteps and "unladylike gait". Well, at least pointe shoes wouldn't hurt a prosthetic leg.

"It's my body and my life," Blondie reminded him.

"And it's my money that pqid your medical bills," he shot back. She rolled her eyes. "Melinda, you know I just want what's best for you. I want to help you. I need to help you."

"Help yourself first," Blondie snarled. "How's your boytoy?"

"I've been married to Chase since you were eight. Stop calling him my boytoy," Oliver sighed. Any other time, Blondie might have laughed at how annoyed her dad got when she mocked his husband. "And fifteen years isn't such a significant age difference when you're out of your twenties."

"He's a gold-digger."

"He's well worth what he costs, and he loves you like his own daughter. Come on, stop changing the subject. You mean so much to me. You were the victim of such a-"

"I'm not a victim," she hissed, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes narrowed. "If anyone's a victim, it's that bitch Camilla. You know, queen of the cabbage patch."

Oliver's eyebrows knit together. "Cabbage patch?"

"Because she's a vegetable," Blondie said, and her father sighed heavily.

"I'm not denying that she's a bad person, but you don't need to be discriminatory. Other, much nicer people live with brain damage."

"Dad, shut the fuck up and listen to me," Blondie demanded. "I fought my way out. I'm not a victim!"

"Yes, yes, you're a survivor," he said in a voice like he was placating a toddler.

"No, I'm Melinda fucking Van Doren."

He lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Before anything, you're my daughter and I want what's best for you."

"I actually know what's best for me because I am me."

"I'm your father. I know you pretty damn well."

"Yeah, okay. I'll keep in tough." Blondie started to stand, but Oliver held a hand up.

"Stay for lunch. Samantha made two extra plates."

It still weirded her out that her father had a cook. Her mother missed having servants after the divorce, but Blondie tried her best to keep her home free of employees. And she got stuck with Tej, the most intrusive Van Doren employee.

Chase brought two plates of chicken parmesan to the damn study.

"Workaholic," he said and rolled his eyes, kissing Oliver on the cheek. Blondie rolled her eyes. "Well, I've been having a lovely chat with Miss Tej while you two have been bonding."

Bonding. Sure.

Blondie stabbed into her chicken. She imagined it was the Queen - no, Camilla - that she was stabbing over and over, making sure she never recovered. Because she wasn't the Queen's victim.

She was Melinda "Blondie" Van Doren. She was a fucking hero and people would know that soon.

[karoga89-blog]

student

Henslin, Doing Sociological research.

Part II pg. 29-32

Being a sociologist takes part in everyday life. They do their work on different types of researchers and in are different methods, sociologist use to gather information. We are going to concentrate on these 2: Conducting empirical research and constructing a theoretical base. I recently learned how a sociologist do their magic, and it is pretty interesting. When a sociologist is working on something they cannot point out their conclusion on superstitions, common sense, or how the world would like to be. They do their research on observing the habitat of what they are working on it. This is empirical research, observing the human socialʼs behavior, and write it as it is with every detailed expressed by their natural self. As they are working, sometimes they are basing their work into theories, putting peopleʼs experiences into a plan and connect into our experiences, how they are related to the real world. Although, Sociologist use their theories into measurements, 

                      observations, and researchers' results meticulously. The 3 dominant theories, the first one,                       Symbolic interactionism, this is something you have an attachment to, could be a kid to his mom, a writer to his favorite tool to write or inspiration, a little kid to a teddy bear, a pet, a couple in a first date, etcetera. Thatʼll be to objects, people, or events. 

This first theory has 3 major subjects, Human beings have a self, we can make our selves into an object by to think, express our own actions. The second subject, People construct meanings and act on the basis of those meanings, when we give an action some meaning. for example, we are walking and then we see someone that smiled at you! You think what is the meaning of this? why did he/she do it? we want to give anything a meaning. The third one, People take int account the possible reactions of others, this is about how we change our actions because of how the people would think. An example of this might be the behavior of a kid when he is with his/her mother he acts differently while when they are at school. This is a personal experience, I have a son who is extrovertive, but the bad thing that he doesn’t listen to every word we say ( parents), does not clean and etcetera. However, when he started kinder, I was worried about how is behaving at school, and the teacher told me - he is a very obedient kid, does their shores and everything, I literally told the teacher, are you talking about my kid?- … maybe my kid changes his attitude because he wants to be rewarded by the teacher, that’s still a mystery.

                   The second Theory, functionalism, functionalism implies that society has many parts that make the society work together in a system, to be clearer if one part of the system does not work the other parts would not work. For example, if the motor of a car does not work, the car would not move. It is the same with the society, The families breaking apart because something does not work in their habitat.

The Third theory, conflict, humans won’t be human if they don’t have drama in their lives, competition between them on seeing who is best of the best, and that entails the conflict. They pursue the power, and wealthy.

The results of this conflict are the social problems we know already, the racism, sexism, social class, and etcetera. 

                                         would you hire an ex-convict?

Devah Pager

pg.63-72

(H)

The social researchers while are concentrating on other social institutions there is another one who has increased and taken their curiosity. The Criminal justice system ( prison), when everyone who has offended de law is getting in and out and, there is an important topic that comes into the sociologist mind.

This is a study that took place in Milwaukee, the consequences of incarceration for the employment outcomes of black and white men.

This research is about the criminal record of Afro-American and white Americans affects the possibility to get a job. There is an experiment they gather information from two groups: one white- American with a criminal record in the other Afroamerican with criminal record.

while the experiment was going on there was information that half of those who applied received calls from the employer, the reason why is the employer said “ the ones who are just being released from prison tend to work harder”. 

The comparison of whites and African Americans, there was a difference that despite having a criminal record, the call was returned more times to whites than to Afro-Americans despite having the same background. There was information that some of the Afro-Americans applicants were asked before submitted the aplication if they had criminal records, and for the whites didn’t ask them. The race plays a big card in getting a job opportunity. 

These research results are that incarceration comes with fewer job opportunities.

Coffee shop ethnography

JBC

Pg. 105

I was deciding on where to start on what place should I go to do my sociology assignment. Watching the behavior of the human being in a coffee shop.

I decided to go to Starbucks ( the only one in my town, there is another in the entrance of the Target but nope!)

I arrived, the first thing I saw was the blackboard the big one, then I saw the cashier with a pretended smile (I think she was tired it was already 7 pm), asking what i am going to get. I got a hot chai tea ( my favorite). I waited for my tea to be ready to go and start my objective “research”.

How the people behave in a coffee shop at this hour I think it is different from the morning.

The personal was friendly but with a face that they wanted to go home while I was staring at people ( that’s how I felt) and a teenage group noticed that I was writing something. They didn’t do much like it didn't bother them that I was writing, they kept doing what they were doing, watching their cellphones, chatting with each other, and taking pictures. They stayed for about an hour because one of them received a call and said,- I gotta go-.

There was a  teenage couple, they looked like they were boyfriend and girlfriend, how do I know? married couples don't act like they did. Ther were hugging, and kissing in front of everybody. the face expression of the girl looked in love. The boy was hugging too, but it was more like “ I'm hugging you because I don't want you to get mad if I don't”. Maybe I’m wrong, I hope, i am. Normally, I’m kind of good at knowing how people feel, maybe, I’m not wrong. The boyfriend was looking at his cellphone every 5 min. They stayed for 20 min.

There was another person sitting by herself. She was at her cellphone, drinking a cup of coffee, I believe she is in her 30’s. She is drinking her coffee, watching her cellphone, and watching outside the window. Her face is thoughtful, with a little smile while watching her cellphone, maybe she saw something that made her laugh.

She was there for about 30 minutes,  probably trying to get a relax time. There weren't a lot o people to get annoyed with, it was late. I assumed that. I was doing the same. Experience.

I stayed for 1 hour and a half. The workers were tired so that’s why I decided to leave, to let them start the closing time.

[myvelouri]

Okay so I'm off of work today. I confronted my boss/manager. All went well. I ended it with a "girl, bye" lmao. My coworker started cracking up. Like seriously though, the reasonings for me being yelled at and treated like shit were ridiculous. My manager took back one of the things she did. So fine. I can be intimidating so as she was leaving she said BYE and my name. Lmao I just cracked up. I went over to her and I hugged her.

I didn't want to fight, so I mean yeah. I can fight, I can easily be an asshole, don't start shit with me. I'm very loving though, so of course I'd end it with a hug. I called her out on everything she said about me. It's aight.

I ain't quitting just yet. There was a new girl they are hiring and she was absolutely beautiful! Petite, tattoos, had a dress on, a choker! I love chokers!! And she was cute as fuck. I caught her looking at me a few times. Doesn't mean she was checking me out. I'm sure she has a boyfriend, she's way too cute.

Uh, I talked to my other co-worker that I love! He's an old retired cop. Hispanic. He's always out doing fun stuff, has a huge family. He's so sweet honestly. We talk about girls lmao. There was this gorgeous asian woman that came in, then this younger Hispanic girl, THEN this attractive older white lady with her cleavage out there, she said hello to us all flirty, hahahaha. My dude was making jokes and shit to me. Like, I was still in awe at that beautiful asian gal. Okay anyway, he says he and his wife go to strip clubs together! I'm like, whoa! That's kind awesome haha. But I told him it's mean to say to his wife that one of the girls was so attractive that he'd leave her for her. He said she doesn't care about that because they are extremely tight and that even his wife was saying that gal was gorgeous. Idk. They're an interesting couple.

Omfg another thing. I was working there register today. A lady came in and had a CUTE BABY. The baby was almost a toddler and MY GOD she was so fucking cute, so adorable. I told the mom "omg she's so cute" and the baby was making cute squishy face. She was so adorable other people stopped to baby talk to her lmao smh. But yeah. I was like. Um. I always wanted a daughter if I were to have a kid. But I'd want her to be that tiny little baby bean. With her cute big eyes and long silly hair. Aw. She was SO cute. I don't have baby fever, lmao, chill.

It was an okay day. I'm so tired. I saw a pro cashier working today and she's been there forever, she made same mistakes I do, she was as fast as I am... It's such bullshit that people think I'm slow on the register. I still think about that bullshit message. I hate that.

I'ma drive home now. I got some underwear too.

Man I wish I could sing properly already, and scream. I have some projects I want to finish. I can write songs, but I want to be better to write songs that are really in my head and kind of difficult. But anyway

Byyyyeeee