#i have a customer service job where i talk to people all day every day

[problematicsashawaybright]

Btw I haven't really been checking my inbox/messages/replies because wrapping up my first semester of my bachelor's degree while working close to full time has been insane and taking up all of my time and physical/mental/emotional energy. So if you see me active via posting and reblogging, but not responding to asks or messages or tags, please don't take it personally!!!! I promise I'm not ignoring anyone /gen. I occasionally answer asks if I see them in my notifs, but most of the time I'm so overwhelmed and exhausted from irl stuff that I go to work and school, be silly and insane on tumblr dot com over blorbos, and then either do more work & school or pass out and sleep. After this week, I should be more available because my semester will end!!! I miss talking about blorbos & answering questions! I'm sorry for being so absent and not responding to any contact recently. Thank you for understanding <3

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA OSAMU x FEM READER

On a bad day, Onigiri Miya becomes your new comfort restaurant. Not only is the food good, but the man who takes your orders is always kind. You think the Miya you’ve been venting to on the phone is the same Miya who shows up at your door to deliver all of your orders.

It’s too bad you don’t know there’s two of them.

wc — 2k

tags — fluff, romcom, miscommunication, miserable corporate girl x small business owner who teaches her joy

The email doesn’t even do you the courtesy of being short. They make you read through two whole paragraphs before you get to the point of it all in the final sentence. 

Your termination is effectively immediately. 

You sit back in your chair to allow yourself a moment to take it in. It’s…not terrible, all things considered. 

You get to leave this job that you hate. They’ll pay you severance. You have enough savings to be comfortable for the next few months. 

It might even a blessing.

But it still doesn’t feel good. You worked hard to land this, and now you’ll have to start all over again. Change is always hard, especially when you haven’t asked for it. 

You look at the clock. It’s currently 8:30 in the morning. You’re giving yourself exactly twenty four hours to wallow, and then it’s back to business. 

First things first - a good meal. Food always make everything better, and you really deserve something special today. For a moment, you entertain the idea of calling your friends over to get breakfast somewhere fancy, but then you remember - 

They’re all at work. 

Where you would be, if you hadn’t just been let go. 

That does sting a little, so maybe you’re not as okay as you thought you were. Hurriedly pushing those thoughts to the side in favor of scrolling through your options, a plain blue banner catches your eye. 

Onigiri Miya, it reads. 

Japanese comfort food. Family owned. 

When you click on the link, it takes you to a page that’s as simple as it’s name. It’s just a menu and a series of pictures, but it’s what you need right now. Your head hurts. You don’t have the capacity to deal with anything more. 

You want something straightforward and easy to digest. Onigiri Miya it is, then. 

“‘Miya speakin’. What can I get ya?” 

It’s a pleasantly accented voice. When you rattle off your order, you suddenly find it a little less pleasant after he says, “Er. Ya sure?”

This is some shoddy customer service. 

“I’m placing the order, aren’t I?”

“Those two don’t normally go together,” he says. “I’d suggest number nine and number thirteen instead. Trust me.” 

You don’t trust him, actually. This is probably just an upselling tactic he tries on every customer, but you’re not in the mood to argue. You had thought when you called a family owned restaurant, you’d be speaking to some kindly old grandma who might let you cry and vent into the receiver for just a little while, not whoever this is. 

At least the delivery is quick. 

A series of sharp raps on your door alerts you to the arrival. You pull it open to a man in a baseball cap and a uniform with onigiris on both. Their merch is cute. You’d wear it unironically. 

Underneath the cap, yellow blonde hair peeks out. On his shirt, a name tag reads Miya. 

Instantly, you feel a little worse for thinking poorly of him. Your bad attitude from work is no reason to take it out on this hardworking entrepreneur who’s running a one man show by himself. 

“Here ya go,” he says, thrusting a paper bag at you. “Eat it while it’s hot!” 

And then he’s off, scampering back down the stairs instead of taking the elevator even though you’re several floors up. You suppose there’s a reason he has those thighs. 

That the food is good is an understatement. 

Your former coworker Aiko used to work in food advertising before she pivoted. She loved to talk about how fake the industry was during lunch, both in terms of people and actual product. It’s through her that you know that half of the food in commercials aren’t actually food, but styrofoam and plastic painted to look appetizing. 

Onigiri Miya, in contrast, doesn’t look perfect. Appetizing, certainly, but not like a work of art. It just looks like what it is - a ball of rice with special ingredients for flavor.

So why are you crying as you finish your first onigiri and reach for the next? 

It’s been so long since you had a home cooked meal. You’re trying not to be maudlin, but you can almost taste the love that went into everything you’re eating. Imagining Miya carefully packing each triangular ball of rice by hand with a smile has you reaching for another, then another, until eventually the entire order is gone before you know it. 

Exhausted from crying and eating, you sink into your couch with a satisfied sigh and fall asleep. 

It’s 1:30 P.M. by the time you rise again, feeling a little better. Sleep really was the cure to all evils. Now you have 20 hours left to indulge yourself as much as possible. 

You’re not in the mood to turn off your brain by binge watching a show. You want to do something. You want to use your hands to craft something from scratch. 

Learning how to make onigiri could be a start. A quick run to the grocery store and the first recipe that popped up on Google later, you have a half formed, crumbling mound of rice with pickled radish shoved inside. If you squint, it looks almost like what you got from Onigiri Miya this morning. 

Who are you kidding?

That’s an insult to Miya’s craft. He put so much care into each dish - you can hardly compare your shoddy workmanship to his. There’s only one thing to do. You have to taste the real thing again to see where you went wrong. 

“Miya. What d'ya want to order?” 

“I’d like-“

“Hold up. Didn’t ya call this morning?” 

Flustered, you nearly fumble your phone. You’re breathless as you clutch is tighter and bring it back to your ear. “Yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “Is that bad?” 

“I mean, yeah, a little,” Miya says. “I appreciate the business but ya shouldn’t be eatin’ onigiri for two meals a day. Yer going to make yerself sick.” 

“It’s a special day,” you tell him. “I got laid off.” 

In the resounding silence that follows, you have ample time to berate yourself for sharing that. What is wrong with you? Why would you say that? He’s a stranger that you’ve randomly dumped your misery onto and you’re sure he’s -

“Ouch,” he says. “‘Kay, I’ll make an exception just for today. What’s yer order?” 

Miya shows up at your door promptly. He’s ditched the cap so his yellow hair is on full display. It looks like he’s run his hands through it. It sticks up at odd angles. 

“Here ya go,” he says, almost distractedly as he hands you your bag. “Enjoy.” 

You bring the bag inside and start rummaging through it immediately, excited to try new flavors you hadn’t gotten the first time around. Out comes the four onigiri you had ordered, a cup of miso soup, and…

A little takeout container of sushi with a cat’s face drawn on it. A speech bubble next to its head reads, “You can do it, meow!” 

Laughter echoes around your apartment. To your surprise, the world feels less daunting already. You hadn’t realized how quiet you had been the entire morning. Miya’s the only person you’ve spoken to the entire day, and even that was a quick and whispered thank you. Your throat almost hurts with the force of your giggles after disuse all morning, but it’s a good kind of pain. 

Onigiri Miya, family owned. You can almost feel the warmth of an embrace around you as you bite into your steaming onigiri, still a little too hot. 

All too soon, it becomes a tradition for you to order Onigiri Miya as your comfort meal. It doesn’t even have to be a bad day - you actively try to avoid associating things you like with painful feelings by using them as treats for hard days. Instead, Onigiri Miya is anything from a reward for getting to the second round of interviews or a celebration for successfully starting a new hobby. 

Onigiri has become your favorite food, and the person on the other line who takes your orders and even spares a few minutes to chat with you when it’s not too busy has quickly become someone irreplaceable in your life. 

You think you might need to redownload Tinder if you’re this attached to the man who fulfills your onigiri orders. 

Even though you know it’s strange, you can’t bring yourself to sever your connection. Miya is warm and kind, and you’ve quickly come to think of him as a friend. It’s a culmination of lots of little moments piling up over time. 

When you had forced yourself to go on your first date after a while, determined to get back out there, it had crashed and burned catastrophically. Onigiri Miya had been there to pick you back up. Miya had even recognized the sniffles in your voice that you were fighting and drawn you another little cat. 

The next time you had ordered, before you could even tell him what onigiri you wanted, Miya had asked you what happened last week. Maybe that’s just how family owned businesses are. They actually care about their customers. Enough so to play therapist to the girl that orders from you every week. 

Then there was the time you had gotten your first call back for a job application, and you had called Miya to celebrate. 

Well, not Miya. You didn’t have his personal number, but you had called Onigiri Miya, which is more or less the same thing at the moment. This time, he had been the one to be interrupted as you blurred out your good news. 

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he says, “What’d I tell ya? I knew ya could do it.” 

There’s no container of sushi with a hand drawn cat this time, but there is a little note written on a napkin. It’s accompanied by an origami star. 

You don’t cry, exactly, but your eyes water up as you read the note. He’s proud of you. The star is to wish you luck on your continued journey. The knowledge that he’s proud - his own words - fuels you as you keep applying and interviewing, never letting rejection stop you. 

He’s just the guy that takes your onigiri order, but at some point, he’s become someone special to you. 

He cares. He spends an extra two minutes on the phone with you to ask about your day even when you can hear the sounds of a busy environment in the background. He remembers your accomplishments and failures. Whether you fall or rise, he’s there with you every step of the way. 

Sometimes, you get a fluttery feeling in your stomach when he laughs at you, calling you silly for whatever mistake you’re relying to him. You miss his voice when you don’t have an occasion to call, and when something happens, your first thought is always to tell him about it. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because the next time he comes to deliver your order, he tells you, “We’ve known each other long enough, ya order every week. I don’t like being called Miya. My name’s Atsumu.” 

Or maybe not, because he never treats you in person the way he does on the phone. There’s no spark of connection, no bright laughter, no willingness to linger, to stay, to listen. 

Perhaps he’s just shy. In that case, you’re willing to take what he’s offered you and make the first move.

The next time you order, you end the call with, “Thanks, Atsumu. I’ll talk to-“ 

There’s an abrupt interruption from the other end immediately. 

“What’d ya call me?” His voice sounds funny. 

“…Atsumu?”

Even when you’re confused, the sound of his belly deep laughter makes you feel all shivery from your toes to your head. It makes your joints feel weak, like they can’t support you, and you ease into the dining chair as you wait patiently for whatever laughing fit that’s gripped him to pass. 

“Atsumu,” he repeats, with another snort of laughter. “Atsumu, really?”

“What?”

“Ya know Onigiri Miya’s a five minute walk from yer place, right?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come here,” he says, and hangs up. 

When you enter Onigiri Miya, you get instant whiplash. There’s two of them! 

You’re just wondering if you should get your eyes checked when you start seeing the subtle differences. They have different hair colors, and their eyes are just the subtlest shades apart. 

The most discerning difference is the way the one with grey hair is looking at you. 

“There’s the girl of the hour,” Atsumu says. “I’ll leave ya to it.” 

When Atsumu leaves, Miya gestures for you to sit at the bar in front of him. He’s still packing onigiri. 

“I’m a little hurt, ya know. Can’t believe ya mistook me for my twin.” 

“It was an accident!” You protest. “How was I supposed to know?” 

“I’m teasin’ ya,” he says, laughing. “Yer so easy to rile up. Remember this, okay? I’m Osamu. The nicer brother.” 

“I heard that,” Atsumu yells from the back. 

“Atsumu’s just the delivery guy,” he says. There’s a twinkle in his eye. You don’t think it’s that funny, but you like seeing him mirthful. “I’d rather make the food than deal with the people, so he does it.”

“Am I part of the people?” 

He gives you a look. 

“Stop fishing for compliments,” he says, and your cheeks grow warm with delight. “Ya know ya aren’t.” 

“Here,” he says, sliding you a napkin with a series of numbers and a hand drawn picture of a cat. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.” 

By the cat’s head, the speech bubble reads, “Miya Osamu’s personal number.” The cat is winking at you. 

“Is this…?” 

He smiles at you. “Stop clogging up the line cause ya miss me-“

“I don’t-“

He ignores you. “I got a business to run, ya know? Just call me next time.”

Then, he leans over the bar. He’s too close. Your cheeks feel warm under his attention as he whispers to you, “I’ll make something just for ya, compliments of the chef.” 

Trying to recover, you swallow to bring moisture to your dry mouth. You’re trying to be playful when you say, “It’s a date, then?”

He looks at you with a hint of a smile. “It is.” 

[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt: Envy | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin, Steve Harrington, Corroded Coffin are ruthless, Eddie's going through it but it gets better, healing

(I didn't add any warnings for this, but if you think I've missed anything plese let me know)

At least Eddie can say they were nice about telling him his services were no longer required.

He turns up for practice with a little pep in his wobbly step; he’s getting some strength back in his hands and he has some chords nailed down now and it’s coming along. Slowly. But Steve says it’s like sport, marginal gains, every win is still a win no matter how small. 

The vibe is off the moment he walks into the garage; the guys look at each other in silent conversation until Gareth says “We need to talk.”

Jeff and Matt look at him all sad-eyed and it all feels a little as if Eddie is a dog about to go for his last car ride.

“Look, Eddie, truth is, it doesn’t feel like things are really getting any better, you know? And we have this opportunity.”

A gig up in Chicago, a friend of his cousin got them in the door. There’s going to be A&R people there, and Eddie just isn’t good enough anymore.

“We’re really sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie and Wayne got t-boned in the truck once and he’ll never forget the force of it, hurtling sideways, the crunch of buckling metal, the sickening screech. And afterwards, once everything had come to a stop, the shrill ringing in his ears.

This feels kind of like being t-boned.

“So,” he says to Jeff, his voice more ragged than he expected, “how are you playing my solos?”

Suddenly they find the garage floor very interesting.

Oh god.

“You’ve already replaced me. Right?” He dips to catch their eyes. “Right?”

It’s Gareth that grows a pair and confirms what he already knew.

He stumbles back to the van and speeds out of the driveway, no idea of where he’s going, only knowing he’s not going home. His bedroom is a shrine to music, to metal, to things he loves and has now lost. He can’t bear the fucking thought of it.

He winds up at the lake, can hear birds and the rustle of trees over the sound of his breathing. He’s not much of a crier, not since he worked out that crying wouldn’t bring his mother back but would earn the occasional backhander from his father. So he sits in the back of his beaten up van and does his best to block out the buzz, block-out the voice that tells him he’s a failure, block out the voice that says it would have been better for everyone if he’d died in the Upside Down.

But the voice is loud.

The band leave but the world still turns, it’s just slower and darker than it was before. There are bright spots; he and Steve rent a two bedroom apartment together. After a while they don’t need that second bedroom.

He gets a job at the newly re-opened Radio Shack. Customers still side eye him, and his attempts at jovial conversation are met with blank stares more often than not, so he stops bothering after a while. He has Wayne and Steve, and the kids that aren’t kids anymore, and some days that’s more than enough. Some days.

Steve takes him to Indy to celebrate his birthday.

“We’re hitting up every record and comic book store in the city,” Steve says excitedly and Eddie has to smile back, it’s impossible not to. He gets to come home to this man every night, to climb into bed with him and fall asleep in his arms. It’s nice to have a good thing. Eddie holds onto that on the days that hurt.

They wander the aisles of Tower Records, Steve flashing him the ocassional top forty CD and Eddie flipping him off, and they have fun throwing mock abuse back and forth. He flicks through the metal section, flipping CDs with a practiced finger, pausing on the odd rare Japanese import or limited edition coloured case. Tower has all the fancy shit.

He gets to C and his heart stops.

His picks up the CD with a shaking hand; the logo is more polished but it’s still theirs. He turns it over and three familiar faces stare back at him, looking mean and moody for the camera. And one face he doesn’t recognise, the one that replaced him. He drops the CD into the Jazz section, before telling Steve he wants to go home.

They made it. They actually fucking made it. Maybe it’s only one album, maybe there were more, doesn’t matter, point is they got to have their dream and they kept Eddie from his.

Sweetheart hangs on the wall, covered in dust. There’s a kid out there somewhere that was like him once, had the passion and the talent but didn’t have the money.

It hurts too much to play. It hurts so much not too.

 Eddie puts her in the van with his amps and pedals and drops them off at a thrift store. 

They’re everywhere after that. A group of kids come into Radio Shack wearing their t-shirts. The Hawkins Post runs an article about them, small town boys made good. There’s no mention of Eddie; it’s the first time that it dawns on him there might have been other reasons they wanted to cut ties with him. Wouldn’t have been a good look to have an accused serial killer in the band, afterall.

Dustin admits that he and Mike have been to see them live a few times, they have the backstage passes and autographs to prove it. The absolute audacity of that band to be dolling out autographs to their friends like they’re fucking rock stars—

Right. 

Dustin and Mike never mention them again, and Eddie has a sneaking suspicion that Steve may have said something. Which sucks, because they’re his friends and they shouldn’t have to hide those things from him.

Then he hears them on the radio. 

He pulls the van over, and drops his head onto the steering wheel as he listens to them thunder from his speakers. They sound good. He would buy this record, he would see them live, if it were just anyone else. 

He starts to cry, because they’re better than they ever were with him, and it hurts that they did the right thing leaving him behind. 

Steve and Wayne worry that it’s going to swallow him whole. Eddie’s worried it already has.

He comes home one day to find a computer in their living room, and Dustin on his hands and knees. Apparently they’re connected to the internet now. He has no idea why. But on nights where Steve is working and there’s nothing on TV he starts to use it. His favourite bands have web pages and it’s a fucking revelation. He finds himself talking to people on the other side of the world, arguing with some asshole in England about Iron Maiden’s latest album being their worst (it is), or sending this sweet kid in Australia a list of NWOBHM records he’s got to check out. A whole new world opens up.

He’s three beers deep when he goes looking for Corroded Coffin’s site. His throat tightens as he clicks around the page, looking at their discography, at the tour photos. They played Madison Square Garden in 1997, same year he got promoted to manager at the store. His eyes swim but he can’t help but smile. Good for them. 

He clicks on the band history link and is shocked to see they mentioned him. There’s a photo too.

We miss Eddie every day.

Fuckers. He hates them. He misses them.

Maybe it’s time. He’s doing okay. He’s been in a happy relationship for over a decade, he earns enough to live, his health is okay. Is that so bad, really?

He scrubs at his eyes and hits up the message board and types:

Greetings from Eddie the Banished

@the-unforgivenn ❤️

[seat-safety-switch]

For a couple years, I worked in a video store in a small town. In many ways, this was the culmination of a childhood dream: routine, unchallenging labour. If you were a particularly annoying labour analyst, all I actually ever “did” was ring up rentals, restock returns in the morning, and clean the windows. Customer service has its own way of filling the space left by the actual work, though.

People who have worked retail are a sort of elite corps. For one thing, you’re never rude to another retail employee for the entire rest of your life. You’ve been in the trenches, too, and even if you somehow managed to escape, you’d still have had that shared trauma to know how bad that shift could get for that shelf-stocker at Maybe’s Drugs off I-40.

I have all the usual complaints, but there’s something else, too. My unique problem is this: I had this one customer who came in every Monday morning, asking for the same movie. We never had that movie, which is the crux of our conflict. He – and I can’t remember his name anymore, even if the electroshock therapy had been effective – never took “no” for an answer, and would come back the next week. He’d ask for the same thing, by title. No other details: no barcode, no publisher, no actors. Not even a description of the plot (he hadn’t seen it yet, obviously.) Now, this was before broadband internet was widely available, so I’d have to dial up after hours to America Online, and see if the movie had been added to their database. It never did, except one night I saw some folks talking about it in a video store chat room.

Their customers, too, were asking for this film. Insistently. After talking about it that night, we decided that we would form a bit of a trade union group. If any of us heard anything on this mysterious VHS, we would share the knowledge with the rest of the group. That retail-worker camaraderie at work again, you see. Nothing ever came of it, but I did end up becoming good friends with a manager at a Hobart’s Movies in Ames, Iowa, and we were even roommates for awhile before he got a new job at Seaworld. I moved on, too, making my slow, but inevitably in retrospect, drift towards the coast. Still, the whole thing bothered me. For years afterward, I would turn on my computer every Monday night, long after I had left the job, and search for any clue as to the existence of this film.

Once, on a day off, I called a librarian, who got pissy at me for even asking about it, and demanded to know who had put me up to calling her as a prank. I hung up in a panic, but she called back for hours. Obviously, she was also undergoing the same situation, and I felt shame at having brought a momentary pain to another proud Retail-American.

Now, video rental stores are a thing of the past. Even in small towns, they have been reduced to just a fond memory and an abandoned corner of a strip mall. Maybe my customer’s quest doesn’t matter anymore. The aggregation of the world’s knowledge into one hissing, unseen beast at the centre of our collective technological hallucination is complete. If they don’t have it, pick a different one. All I know is that, one day, someone will find a copy of this movie, and I’ll be able to go back to that town and shove it in the ground where the video store once stood. On that day, I can finally rest, freed from the slavedriver that is Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol.

[transzilla]

You met me over grindr while I was in the city for a one night stand and for some reason we kept in touch, some glow around me that you really liked. Your living situation is a little crowded so we figured we would hook up in an empty bulldozer at a construction site at night. I work at a fire tower in the mountains and I really like other trans men but due to the geography haven't found anybody to stick around, so I tend to get around quite a bit when in the city.

Your living situation is tough. You've tried to go on hormones, or blockers, but keep being shamed and rejected and getting pressured out of it by distant family members or chaser-y roommates. You have no room to grow. You're fucking miserable. You contemplate offing yourself, guiltily, but quickly shoo the thought away considering you have a roof over your head and no real reason to be sad.

We text obsessively. I'm lonely out there, stealth trans in the middle of nowhere, and whenever I have service we text, call, vent, joke, bust balls, tell each other all our deepest, darkest secrets. They're looking to hire another lookout, my coworker retired. It requires you to live onsite and they provide housing without taking it out of your paycheck. I sympathize with your situation, I tell you you'd do well in this position, I'll put in a good word for you with the forest service, you should apply. Get you out of that glorified pig sty and somewhere with fresh air where you can finally breathe.

You get the job, make a fucking decision and leave everything behind to come work with me. We reunite, get drunk, get you accustomed to your new life. You talk to very few people and nobody seems to clock you as trans anyway. Your daily work is hard and manual but refreshing compared to customer service. You let me rail you every night, your food is taken care of, you're reading and working out and getting your back blown out on the clock.

Sometimes it feels like I make you do everything I'm supposed to do, I seem to enjoy watching you sweat and lift heavy things and slack on my work. I have a ton of testosterone that I share a little too excitedly with you and it doesnt look prescription, in small brown vials with blue caps, some of them are labelled cypionate but also proprionate, enthonate, undecanoate, demonic incantations you've never seen before in your life. And I'm real weird about always doing your injection for you. I stab it in so fast and it looks violent but it doesn't feel as bad when you do it, but the way I make eye contact and hold the needle in my teeth while I do my own injection is a little off putting. I'm constantly pushing you, nothing you ever do is good enough for me, all of my fetishes while we're fucking seem to entail you doing push ups naked, squats, bending over and letting me examine you, your legs getting so sore after im making you ride it, letting me squeeze your tits and feeling your pec underneath the breast. I smoke a pack a day and pressure you into joining me, complimenting you on how raspy and fucked up your voice sounds.

You have doubts. You aren't able to call your friends as often as you thought you would. When you talk to people you've been isolated so long you talk over them garishly, talk all about yourself, make too many dirty jokes and swear too much the way we talk to each other, awkward and unfit for civilized society. All you have is me and you have no choice but to trust that I have your best intentions in mind.

You let me teach you how to use a shotgun the salty perfume of the gunpowder staining your hands as your aim gets better and better, your guard lowering the more I've been praising you for doing what I want. We went hunting and you shot your first deer. I was so excited and you were so validated by how proud I was, it felt like a big hug from the inside out. You send a picture of the field dressed deer to your old city friends, guts steaming in the morning sun. they're absolutely disgusted by the fact that you would do such a thing and show them. You're a fucking machine of a man now and you're able to tame the wilderness everywhere except for in yourself.

After months you plain don't recognize yourself in the mirror. Your hair is wild, your facial hair not just a few long pubes jealously untouched on your chin but a uniform patchy stubble shaved haphazardly when you were tired of it being singed when you did fight fires. Knuckles scarred, shoulders broad, the gross muscle you feared you would develop rippling like a tiger under your skin and the extra weight you've gained. You talk like I do, you act like I do, you think like I do, you can't tell where you stop and I start. Your reflection looks sleepless, disordered, lost, a thuggish stranger. Heartless man.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the Asshole for reporting my coworker a second time? (TW// Sexual Harassment, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Self Harm)

(🍫💵 so I can find it later.)

I work a job where I (22 F/NB) am a cashier at a local supermarket. I have a few coworkers close to my age, but most are either in their late thirties/early fourties' or are kids who go to the local high schools in the area.

Around the beginning of this year, we'll call him Abe (17~ M) attempted to ask out my coworker who we'll call May (16~ F). They'd hang out semi-regularly along with the other kids still in high school, and while they never caused trouble, they did tend to goof off and joke around a lot.

May refused him, saying she wasn't interested. For WHATEVER reason, he did not accept this rejection and continued to ask. This was an issue, as not only is it sexual harassment, but Abe is a cart-pusher and May is a cashier. He was already a pretty lazy employee (management was always upset at him because he'd get caught playing on his phone instead of working), but now he'd purposefully go through her lane at the supermarket just to ask her out repeatedly and beg to be with her. Every time he found her alone, he'd go right up to her and keep pestering her about it. She felt so uncomfortable and unsafe about it that she told our team lead, who agreed to stay by her side. This was spread to our management, who make sure she isn't alone so that he can't corner her about going out with her.

I have witnessed him doing it many times, enough that I reported it to HR when May refused to do it herself. They told me to get her into contact with them and report it to them, and finally I convinced her to do it.

There was a sort of peace period after that, where they weren't scheduled at the same time. But recently he's taken it a step further and has decided to come in on ANY day she is scheduled (even if he isn't) to keep trying to ask her out. Most of the cashiers are aware of the situation and got upset with him. One of the few who is around my age (and recently pregnant) even cussed his ears off for harassing her so much because it didn't look like management was doing anything. Abe declared that the pregnant coworker broke his heart, and now his behavior had gotten WORSE.

Abe would look at those who he'd "hang out" with at work and either try to guilt them into helping him win over May's heart, complain about her not living him, and talk about how "white people suck"/"white people are so shitty" despite BEING white (to my knowledge, please don't go after me in the notes about this) himself. He'd also stalk her work bestie around and trash-talked the pregnant co-worker, all while NOT DOING HIS JOB, by the way.

One of the habits he has picked up however is miming actions to his fellow minors. The one I heard him use mostly was of him pretending to shoot himself in the head.

But one day I was working as the customer service rep for the night (no one else could do it), and I gave him a polite nod when he walked past. He smiled at me and then mimed cutting himself.

This was not something I had heard of him doing before, but when I talked to my coworkers they said "yeah he was doing this too".

In the moment I had given him a very firm No, because it was not work appropriate. Abe insisted, and pretended to cut his wrists again.

I'm on anon so none of you know me, but I used to severely struggle with suicide and self harm from a young age. However I have gotten better since becoming an adult and have made MASSIVELY impressive strides to a happier life. From this, I understand joking about suicide, because if you joke about it with someone you are not only in a safe place to bring it up BUT are coming around to the idea of telling people that you need help.

Joking about self harm, however? I've never heard of it. It's an entirely different ball park. You don't joke about those things.

In the moment, I was in disbelief, and I felt sick. I even started mentally shutting down, to the point where I couldn't even do my usual tasks properly without being specifically told to start them. Everyone noticed. I even cried once I was in my car while my sister was picking me up and safe, because I was trying so fucking hard not to think about that time in my life when I had moved myself so far past it.

Right at the beginning of shutting down, I did tell a manager. I told the manager who worked the next day as well, just so that I'd be SURE something happened about it. Abe visited that day on his day off because May was working again, and I panicked so much at seeing him that I hid behind customer service until one of my work friends told me he had left- instead of staying at May's side like I usually would. (I put my mental health first- it was a tough lesson that I managed to learn last year to the point that I do it in my day-to-day. She wasn't left alone with him though, don't worry.)

It genuinely sickened me that he has been miming cutting himself to other minors, when I know that if I had been May's age and had seen that amidst recovery, I would have spiraled and started all over again. Abe's lucky none of them are like that (at least openly) and that I was uniquely affected whereas the others were just "creeped out".

I ended up reporting his actions towards me about a week after I convinced May to personally report his harassment, and then I found out that the first manager I talked to (who has a soft spot for him, he does use this to his advantage to get out of trouble at work) asked him what was wrong and his response was "I'm having a bad day".

Considering that he does this every day he comes into work, whether he's actually working or not, on top of everything else (and how it effected me)- I am very hurt and genuinely hate him after all of this when I hadn't hated him before (despite the fact that I have only hated 2 people in my life before that point). However, I don't know if he was joking about how bad he feels about the fact that she does not want him at all or if he's genuinely hurting himself, and I feel sick at the thought of my actions if it's the second scenario.

Even if he's sexually harassing my coworker, no one should ever feel like they deserve to be hurt or that they don't deserve life. That's what I believe. And I'm worried that, should Abe find out I reported him twice over this, that he'll yell at me and say that I'm an asshole for doing that (and I know it would happen, because that was his response with my pregnant coworker). I know I'm doing the right thing by reporting the continuous harassment, but my heart is genuinely conflicted now. He needs to stop, but what if my actions are causing this response? I could never live with myself knowing that I was the reason someone hurt themselves. My anxiety won't let it rest.

And so, Tumblr, I must know...

Am I the Asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[ladyiristheenchantress]

Magic for the working witch

Hello friends! I recognize this is a break from my current content series, however I have been working like a dog recently balancing university, work, social life, and medical problems so I felt inspired to talk a bit about the magic I do while working!!

To preface: I work 3 jobs total! one of them requires me to travel, One is a remote desk job, and the final one is a waitress! While I don't recommend this lifestyle, it is the one that I and many others have fallen into as life has unfolded. First of all, to all my hard working witches, you freaking matter dude. Your boss may not see how hard you work, but trust me you guys are hustlers! Its hard to balance a spiritual life with everything else going on but today lets tackle that!

How can I cultivate magic, even with work/school/etc?

First, we have to find where the magic is within us and this is easier said than done. In previous post I talk about magical frameworks and theories and this would be a good time to put this to use! I believe that magic is all around and within us, we can harness it at any time, enjoy it! Even simply reflecting on the magic in your heart can be enough to feel spiritually fufilled. We as humans like acknowledgement, and when we just simply reflect on the magic around us then we tend to feel more fufilled but that gets lost on us sometimes.

Got it! What ideas do you have for me?

Lets think about jobs for a second! We have all sorts of jobs out there, desk jobs, standing jobs, hard labor, etc. I believe there is magic for every profession, type, etc, but that is a looot of jobs. so lets narrow it down to the three types I have experience with!

Travel + Speaking

these jobs include teaching, public speaking, management, and more. These jobs often are a form of public service but require an element of writing, desk work, etc. It also is somewhat a form of authority in the aspects of people looking up to you for information, conflict resolution, and more. Usually this job has a commute, a level of strong responsibility, and traits like leadership and confidence are seen heavily.

Witchy ideas:

As you wake up, get ready, and commute, give yourself a pep talk as a form of glamour magic. Bonus points if you make it a chant

Enchant your toothpaste to help your words carry

Keep crystals like angelite, Rose Quarts, and Pyrite close

Create a weekly spread to give you insight into the week so you can prepare as needed

Wear bright colors for confidence

Wash your hair with the intention of unblocking flow of words, and making things run smoother

Public Service

Public service are jobs like waiter, bank clerk, and floor salesman. These jobs require you to be informational, polite, and taking on a lot of side work in the process. Your job is to get someone to purchase something and help facilitate that, resolve minor conflicts, and honestly team work with both your coworkers and customers.

Witchy Ideas:

When you can: Don't wear socks with your shoes. A lot of dress shoes and work shoes can have hygienic insoles, and this can help facilitate grounding!

Create an oil out of a carrier oil, basil, thyme, and rosemary and you get a general 'workplace luck' oil!

If you work for commissions: Eat a mint, tic-tac, or sugar packet before work to sweeten your words to customers and get more sales

If you don't work for commissions: Place Vaseline or lotion on your elbows and knees to facilitate swift work and smooth customer interactions

Carry obsidian, super seven, bismuth, or chrysocolla with you

Keep a 'talisman card' in your pocket, pick a tarot card that resonates with your goal for work. My go-to's are the queen of swords, king of cups, the emperor, and the magician

Remote Work

Remote jobs are any jobs that can be done at home, and after the pandemic these jobs became a staple so many companies kept the position. These jobs could be done day or night, internationally or locally, and so much more. The best traits to have would be organization, punctuality, and perseverance.

Witchy Ideas:

Maintain a home altar where you do work to induce specific energies

Before a virtual meeting discussing important personal goals, set up an online vision board of what you want

Have a prayer or chant ready during a project to help it move along

Create digital sigils to deflect crappy co-workers

Use Tigers eye, ulexite, and yellow calcite to help the work day

Leave a tarot card on your desk as a talisman.

If you guys need any tips, tricks, or questions feel free to leave them in an AMA or in the comments below! Thank You! Tip Jar

[skinks]

JOE. first of all: a reminder that i love you and think you are simply one of the coolest people i know. i hope you're doing well. SECOND: can you talk to me some more about Becoming a Tradeswoman? i have a SERIOUS lack of confidence in my intelligence/brainworthiness/ability, and have always done white(ish) collar work, but. idk. the idea of working at something more practical (idek what it would be) has always kind of hung around the edges of my brain. no idea where i'd start, how i'd even find out whether i'm GOOD at practical work, whether i could hack it...how did you get started?? i remember your farming days, of course - did you just do it as a summer thing to start? how'd you get into it? anyway. whatever you'd like to talk about would be wonderful. you're amazing. OKAY BYE<3

SARAH HELLO!! First of all may I say ilu too and I think you’re rad, I hope you’re doing well also. I’m just working/exercising/watching movies mostly and have begun the process of buying my first flat, so I’m pretty tired but busy and happier for it.

Sorry it took me a minute to reply to this message, I’ve been thinking it over all week as it’s a wide-ranging topic. People’s routes into any type of work will be as varied as the people themselves, but I can share a little of my own experience for sure.

I live in a rural-ish area with a ton of agriculture, so I got into practical work at 16 when my first ever job was helping out on a farm nearby. My parents went to school with the guy who owned the farm, so soon I was earning money for bottle-feeding calves and mucking stalls. Then I moved to a different farm where I got to help with calving and a bunch of other work, including when I first got to operate forklifts and other heavy machinery.

My friends were all either waitressing or babysitting in town , and I was earning nearly double what they were and having a blast doing it without any of the horror stories of customer service. Most of the time I was on my own, left with the meagre responsibility of a lot of heavy lifting, but it made me feel accomplished. I realised I got such a rush from picking up how to operate a piece of machinery and making myself useful, being trusted to complete a task with a definitive outcome I could SEE. So much schoolwork seemed abstract and arbitrary outside of maths/science - even though I loved reading and was great at writing English papers, it frustrated me that success was graded on subjectivity. Maths is definite. Moving haybales from one barn to another until you’re done is definite. I responded to the constant sense of achievement you get from completing practical tasks and seeing your work make a direct impact on the job. It made me feel more powerful and confident, which was a lifesaver as a miserable teenager getting the self-esteem bullied out of me every day.

From there I quit university (once again couldn’t stand the arbitrary un-structured mess that was research and essays) and went back home to work on another farm. Learned how to drive ATVs, hitch horses into carriages, hitch trailers onto cars, cultivate a garden, build fences, wrangle and lamb sheep, etc etc. In my spare time I chased that high of learning a new practical skill through sports; tried archery, skeet shooting, weightlifting, crossfit, etc. I think having a propensity for sport since childhood does help your confidence in practical work, because you’ve already developed your sense of physicality and proprioception. You’re better coordinated, in a nutshell, but it’s not a dealbreaker for someone who’s not sporty.

Basically, every tiny skill I picked up in all my jobs has just built my confidence in my ability to learn a new one, it’s as simple as that. I could drive a car and muck out a stall, so with good teachers I was able to drive a forklift and lay turf, so I was able to then hitch a tractor trailer, so I could then build and fix an electric fence, so I could prune fruit trees, trim hedges, milk cows, dig ditches, build drystone walls, and rig up a mobile generator in the back of a pick-up so I could sand down logs all day.

Your confidence in your ability to learn is the only thing that matters, but you have to give yourself the chance to START learning. Knowing I had learned how to do all those things meant I had enough confidence to apply to an engineering training course at the local trade college. I yearned to learn more skills, to have the access to equipment and training I hadn’t before, honestly, because of that feeling of power. It makes me feel powerful to learn how to weld, how to use all the machines we have at work in order to be a functioning, useful part of a team.

For a long ass time though I felt the way you’ve described; totally lacking in the confidence to do this type of work. I get that, I really do, and I’m gonna tell you I SERIOUSLY doubt you lack the intelligence or ability to do trade work. I know that sounds like platitudes when you haven’t had the chance to even try it yet, but I’m telling you as someone who’s been there and has gotten over that self-doubt hill. You do not lack the ability, you only need the opportunity to try this work and good teachers to help you. If someone belittles you for asking questions when trying to learn something new, they’re a shitlord bastard who doesn’t deserve to be teaching you, and aren’t worth your time.

Can you think of any skill you’ve picked up and now don’t have to think about to complete? Can you drive, or bake, or follow a craft tutorial? Play a videogame? These types of activities require the type of hand-eye coordination, attention to detail, and subconscious adjustment of technique that are the basic building blocks of practical work imo. A forklift control panel or a metalworking lathe look intimidating, until you’ve been shown what to do and are carefully allowed to try it out for yourself a few times to build your confidence.

After that it’s just practice. I find it far, far easier to weld pipes than to… brainstorm initiatives, or whatever it is people do in offices. That’s a question you need to ask yourself with respect to all of this too, like I said before, what type of work brings you the most satisfaction? Do you like the idea of the precision inherently necessary to tool work, or does the black and white nature of it stress you out? Do you like the idea of focusing solely on a task that is literally at your fingertips, that YOUR skill has a direct effect on? If nothing else, the very fact that you wanna try is a great sign!

In terms of where to get experience, I’d say volunteering is your best bet initially.

- national parks or environmental nonprofits. Look for practical volunteering opportunities! my rangering organisation always has path building/invasive species removal/habitat maintenance sessions available to the public, maybe there’s something similar nearby to you that you could try. It’s so fun and rewarding!

- local farms or animal shelters. Ask around, see if anyone is looking for an extra pair of hands. I travelled in NZ Aotearoa using WWOOF, and there are wwoofing farms literally all over the world. the majority of them are geared towards people just looking to help out, you really don’t need to have any practical experience to go wwoofing

- local trade cooperatives. This is a long shot but it is something I’ve seen crop up in bigger cities here. people will set up community workshops where you can go along and make use of the tools and equipment in a more amateur and inclusive environment, and they’ll often run classes. maybe there’s something similar near to you, and it’s a way to try different things to see if something clicks!

- practical toys. Like, model building kits or even construction toys. It’s a small start, but maybe a good one for you to see how you feel about following plans and building something!

- classes, again. I know you said you’re not sure what you’d even wanna try, but if you have the time and the money, could it be worthwhile taking a class or two, just to try something? leather or wood working? blacksmithing? do you like the thought of being inside or outside? Making things or fixing things? heavy lifting or small precision work? All of it?!

I’m not the best at giving advice, but I do believe in the human ability to learn tool usage with proper instruction. Our ancestors could build their own homes and start fires to make clay pots, and they didn’t even have youtube to tell them how to do it. All it really comes down to then is confidence, and you DESERVE confidence.

Why the fuck shouldn’t you learn how to work a trade, or at least try something practical! That’s what life is about, learning new things. Especially since you’ll meet all sorts of cool new people doing it. You’re a kind and intelligent person, and so long as you’re fine with making a mistake or two, owning up to it, and asking for help when you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ll be fine and dandy. I swear it!!!!

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 15

AO3 Part 1 Part 14

Steve woke up Friday morning feeling fully recovered. He had spent the last few days with aching muscles so it was a huge relief to get out of bed without pain. He was glad because they were having a barbecue tonight to send off Johnathan, Argyle and Nancy who were heading back to the city tomorrow. Nancy was out of school for the summer but Johnathan needed to get back to his business and Argyle only had so much time off from his job.

He and Johnathan hadn’t got too close while he was home. Steve was hesitant to reach out and the feeling seemed mutual. They talked a bit about his photography business and Steve told him about Family Video. Mostly they talked about how much customer service sucked and how crazy people’s demands were. Steve didn’t mind that they hadn’t managed to bridge the distance between them. He was still overwhelmed with the kids, Robin, Eddie, Hopper and Joyce. Him and Nancy were… okay – parting on good terms at the very least. They would have time to get to know each other better.  

Inhaling deep, he let the breath out slowly.

He had time.  

Joyce was already busy in the kitchen when Steve walked downstairs. Johnathan and Argyle were probably still sleeping and he figured Hopper had already left for work. Will and Eleven were eating cereal like little zombies at the table. They both looked up, cheeks full, and smiled as he sat down. He had been really excited to tell everyone about Stephanie and the parallel universe he had learned about but had promised Robin he wouldn’t say anything without her, so he had been waiting. Patiently. Very patiently waiting. He couldn’t wait to see Dustin and Eddie’s faces.

“Morning, Steve,” Joyce said as she turned around, wiping her hands on a towel. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good actually. All better.”

She came over and settled a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad! But take it easy still, hmm?”

Steve nodded and looked away from her kind eyes, reaching for the cereal box. She patted his shoulder and moved back to the kitchen counter where various vegetables were waiting to be chopped.

“What’re you two up to today?” Steve asked the kids.

“Shopping with Max. I want a new dress for the party tonight.”

“I’m helping Dustin with Cerebro.”

“Sounds fun,” he said and smiled at them.

They both nodded and went back to shoveling cereal into their faces as fast possible.

“Bye!” Eleven shouted as soon as she finished drinking the sweetened milk from her bowl.

“See ya later!” Will said as he scraped his chair back from the table and ran out.

Then it was just him and Joyce. He looked over at her furiously chopping vegetables and could tell that she was stressed. There was going to be a lot of people coming over and she probably had a lot she needed to get done before they arrived.

“I’m gunna shower and then I’ll help you get ready.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Oh, I’m fine! You should rest.”

“I’ve rested enough. Let me help, Joyce. Please.”

She set her knife down and turned fully towards him. Her hair was a little wild and her eyes were tired. She worked too hard. He didn’t know what she saw on his face that made her relent but she softened and said, “that would be great. Thank you.”  

He nodded and noticed a small smile on her face as she turned back to her vegetables.  

On his way to the bathroom, he grabbed a towel out of the linen closet. He hung it up and turned on the water before he looked at himself in the mirror, his good mood disappearing in a flash. He hated his reflection. It was difficult to meet his eyes, but he forced himself, bringing his face closer and closer to the glass until he could see every detail. He never knew how much people saw Steve or saw him. He hated it.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

Stepping back, he removed his clothes and took in the ruin of his chest next. His wounds had healed but it still hurt to look at them. He ran his fingers lightly over the raised and jagged marks on his side. Most of them looked better, whatever the doctors had done to clean them up had worked but… Not these. There had been nothing they could do for these. Too much had been bitten away… and too much time had passed.

A reminder that not everything could be made better or wiped clean. That some things just stayed…jagged. Broken. Ugly.

Turning away from the mirror, he quickly stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water would soothe away the awful pit in his stomach.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon were spent cooking with Joyce. He was quiet at first, still stewing in ugly thoughts, but she was slowly able to coax him out of it. She was just so damn happy, despite everything they had to get done and he found it hard to maintain his brooding in the face of her joy.

The kitchen was warm from the oven’s heat so they opened the windows to let in a lovely cross breeze. They talked a lot and laughed a little and moved around each other with a comfort that Steve had never experienced before. He and Max used to cook together sometimes, but her energy had been chaotic in the kitchen. She didn’t like to listen to instructions and Steve always had to clean up her messes, not that he had minded…much. He had missed cooking with someone else. He had missed cooking.

Johnathan and Argyle came down and had breakfast before they left as well, off to enjoy their last day in Hawkins.  

When they were finished making all the food that Joyce had planned Steve asked if it would be alright if he made chocolate chip cookies. He had perfected his recipe over the years and they were his favourite thing to bake.  

“Of course!” Joyce replied enthusiastically. “How did you learn to cook like this?”

As he gathered the necessary ingredients Steve explained, “my parents were gone a lot so I learned how when I was pretty young. Simple things at first, but I got better over the years.”

“What did you make?”

“So much pasta! Boil noodles and heat up some sauce? It was the easiest thing I could think of. It was a real game changer when I figured out the barbecue in high school.” Steve chuckled a little to himself. “I think I made burgers or hot dogs every meal for two weeks.”

Joyce didn’t laugh. “You were alone that much?” she asked instead.

He shrugged. “My dad was always gone on business trips and my mom went with him. I was fine, they always left plenty of money.”

As he started to whisk the dry ingredients together, he felt Joyce’s gentle touch on his shoulder.

“They shouldn’t have done that, Steve. I’m sorry you were alone.”

He blinked down at his bowl. It felt like such a long time ago now, living in that big empty house. He remembered the first time his parents left for a week at a time. He was thirteen and scared, but just like anything else – it got easier with time. And he wasn’t always alone. Freshman year, he met Nancy, Johnathan and Barb. Then the kids and Eddie and Wayne and Steve spent less and less time in that big empty house.

But… even with how full his life became with the family he chose there was still a hole in his heart from his parents. He didn’t think they were malicious or bad people… they just didn’t care. Too busy living their own lives to worry about his.

“No,” Steve agreed. “They shouldn’t have.”

Joyce gripped his shoulder tighter and he reached up to pat her hand.

After a moment, she slipped away and started tidying up the kitchen as Steve made his cookies, feeling that hole fill up a tiny bit more.

---

Max and Eleven came back first, but they disappeared upstairs with their bags after both exclaiming how delicious the house smelled. He and Joyce smiled at each other, nibbling on still warm cookies. Johnathan and Argyle arrived next, Nancy in tow. Joyce quickly put them to work setting up the tables and chairs outside. Hopper walked in the door with a loud exclamation of how long and tiring his day had been, leaving to shower just as Will called to say he was getting a ride with Dustin in a bit.

All of the cooking was done so Steve went back to his room to change. Opening the middle drawer on his dresser, he stared at the options. Joyce had taken him shopping the first week he moved in, getting him everything he could possibly need. Most days he didn’t give a shit about what he looked like… but today felt different. He wanted to look good.

He grabbed out a pair of jeans and the collared button up shirt that Joyce had insisted she get for him. It was dark blue and made of a light material that felt amazing on his skin when he slipped it on over his head. He tucked it into his jeans and cinched his belt as he moved into the bathroom. His hair looked good and healthy but he hadn’t tried to style it since –

Well, since everything.

He grabbed the hairspray Dustin gave him and got to work, trying to remember just how he used to make it look so effortless. It took longer than he would like to admit and it wasn’t exactly how it used to be, but it was close enough. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back and couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

He looked like –

Himself.

His skin was tanned from spending more time outside. The shirt showed off his arms, and the jeans hugged him in all the right places, and his hair fell perfectly, curling just a little onto his forehead. He looked…good. For a brief moment he considered ruining it – messing up his hair and taking off the nice clothes.

“Hello, Steve,” he said instead.

Joyce was back in the kitchen, wearing a red sundress, when he went downstairs. She was mixing cut up fruit and sprite into a large pitcher.

“Would you get the ice trays out of the freezer?” she asked as she looked over her shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw him and she froze.

Steve clenched his jaw as she walked over to him, emotion filling her eyes as she racked her gaze over every inch of him. Her hands patted his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, Steve,” she said with a watery smile. “You look great.”

The doorbell ringing saved him from having to respond, and he ducked out from beneath her hands and went to answer it.

Standing on the stoop was Robin and Eddie. He must have caught them having some kind of argument because Robin had her arm around Eddie’s neck and was in the process of hitting him in the stomach. They both froze as Steve opened the door and he fought back a sigh, taking in the two of them. Robin was wearing jean shorts, a nice summer blouse with a vest over top of it covered in buttons and a weird hat that was tilted sideways on her head. Eddie was decked in his usual attire of black jeans and a faded band t-shirt. Judas Priest, Steve could barely make out. They looked back at him, eyes wide and he hoped with his entire being that they wouldn’t comment on his appearance. He didn’t think he would survive the day if everyone looked at him like they had seen a ghost.

“Your hat looks funny.”

“It’s a beret, Steve.”

He blinked at her. “Your beret looks funny, Robs.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and released Eddie from her headlock.

“No Wayne?” Steve asked as they moved inside.

“He’ll be by in a bit. Wanted to drive himself so he didn’t have to wait for me and Robin.”

Steve nodded and they walked through the house to the back door. Johnathan, Nancy and Argyle had done a good job getting everything set up outside. Tables were lined up against the house, covered in the food that he and Joyce had spent the day cooking. A few umbrellas were scattered around with lawn chairs under them, offering a place to sit and hide from the sun and a stereo played music at a reasonable level.

Eleven came out of the back door in a light blue dress that ended just above her knees and had a white bow around the waist. It wasn’t what she usually wore, going for comfort and utility most days to keep up with the boys. Her hair was still short but she had curled it so it framed her face nicely and Steve could see a hint of makeup on her cheeks and lips. She was holding the pitcher of fruit punch, with Max just behind her holding the cups. She was wearing baggy shorts with a striped tank top. Her hair was long and wavy down her back and she had the same hint of makeup on as Eleven.

Everyone trickled in slowly over the next hour and the yard filled with the people who had been brought together by The Upside Down. There were a few awkward moments when he said hello and they took in his appearance for the first time, but they moved on quickly, probably noticing his discomfort. The gremlins fell on the food like ravenous little beasts, and conversations broke out in small groups. Hopper and Wayne were busy at the barbeque, talking about sports. Murray was with Joyce and Nancy, discussing his latest conspiracy theory. Eddie was trying (and failing) to convince Johnathan to change the music station. He was sitting with Robin under one of the umbrellas when Argyle came over.

“How are your feet, my dude?” he asked.

Robin quirked an eyebrow as a smile took over Steve’s face at the secret question.

“Still uncomfortable, but a little better every day.”

Argyle nodded and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Better every day is the best we could hope for.”

“You should get new shoes if they bother you that much,” Robin said looking at his very normal sneakers.

He and Argyle traded a glance before they burst out laughing.  

“You’re right, Robs,” Steve said, still smiling. “But they’re really not that bad.”

She pursed her lips at him but her eyes were soft. A large gust of wind blew through the backyard, causing laughter as paper plates were torn from unsuspecting hands, hair was whipped into faces and mouths, and hats were tossed off heads. Steve smiled, watching the pure chaos as everyone ran around trying to catch everything and put it back where it belonged.  

“That came out of nowhere! There hasn’t been any wind all day,” Robin said with a bit of laughter in her voice as she went to find her hat.

Sorry. Her beret.

Every time she got close, the wind would pick it up again and move it just beyond her reach. Steve watched her struggle for a moment before he went to help. The wind was still tossing things around and it proved especially difficult to pin down. After a few minutes, they were breathless and laughing as it continued to escape them. Robin had her hands on her knees, taking a rest as Steve ran half bent over so he could scoop it off the ground.

It came to a rest at Eddie’s feet and Steve skidded to a halt, falling back on his ass in an attempt not to tackle the other man. He looked up from his position on the ground to see Eddie haloed in sunlight and beaming a dimpled smile down at him, holding out a hand to help him up.

Pretty, Steve thought and felt his cheeks warm. He shook his head quickly and grabbed Eddie’s hand, letting him haul him back to his feet. Once he was up, Eddie bent back down to grab Robin’s beret and Steve rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. Hoping Eddie didn’t notice the redness in his cheeks.

“I can understand Robin having a hard time catching this, but not you,” Eddie said to him with a smirk. “That was painful to watch.”

“I heard that!” Robin said as she came up on Steve’s side, reaching out to grab her beret out of Eddie’s hand and angrily positioning it back on her head.

“That was crazy, it felt like the wind was out to get us.”  

Eddie snorted and a targeted gust whipped his hair wildly into his face and he spluttered as a bunch of it went into his eyes and mouth. Steve and Robin laughed maniacally as he attempted to get it under control again.

“Told you!” Steve said, still chuckling.

Eddie squinted at them, holding all his hair in his hands. As suddenly as it came, the wind disappeared, creating a moment of stillness and silence. Johnathan, Nancy, and Argyle came over to chat about their trip back to the city and Steve settled back a little to listen. He could tell that they were all going to miss each other and that it had been a long time since they had all got together like this. Like a family.

He couldn’t help but wonder about the parallel universes out there – If they were all having a backyard good-bye party too – and if they were… how different it felt because he wasn’t there. Which brought his thoughts to the Eleven’s he had met and if they were just then telling everyone about him – passing on his message.

He couldn’t wait anymore. Robin was beside him and he gave her a little nudge and raised his eyebrow in question when she turned to look at him. She caught on to what he was asking and nodded excitedly.

“I had another Eleven visit,” he began, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Who told me about a very different universe from ours.” Conversations drifted off as they all came closer to listen.

“Most of the Eleven’s I’ve met have all been pretty similar, but this one – ” he trailed off, letting the suspense build.  “Well, he showed up at Family Video when me and Robin were working.”

“He?” Hopper asked with surprise.

Steve and Robin nodded and everyone’s eyes widened.

“And he wasn’t the only one who was different. Their Robin is a boy named Rob and their Steve was a girl named Stephanie.”

“Wait… so, we were all – ?” Dustin started and then coughed. “Opposite genders?”

“Yup!” Robin replied with a pop.

Their minds were as blown as Steve was expecting. They all started talking at once, asking about their alternate selves and their names. He and Robin made them guess, just like Eleven had. Most were easy – Max, Mike and Erica figured theirs out right away. Some took longer than others and by the end there were only three names they couldn’t figure out – Dustin, Wayne, and Eddie, as predicted.

“There is no female equivalent to Dustin! It has to be an entirely different name,” Dustin reasoned.

“Almost every name we’ve figured out has followed the same pattern. There must be a girl’s name starting with a D that we haven’t tried yet,” Will replied firmly.

“Argyle was Gayle though,” Nancy said. “Maybe there isn’t a pattern.”

“Daisy!” Joyce suddenly guessed.

“My alternate mom, or dad I guess, better not have named me Daisy…” Dustin muttered.

“Winnie!” Murray suddenly called out from the side, pointing at Wayne.

“Correct!” Robin yelled like they were playing a game show.

“Oh, Aunt Winnie!” Eddie said and draped himself across Wayne in a dramatic fall as his uncle rolled his eyes.

They all continued to guess girls’ names that started with D and E, but they were quickly running out of ideas.

“Dus-tin, Dus-tin,” Erica was quietly repeating to herself. “Tin. Tina. Tina?”

“Yes!” Steve exclaimed with a smile, only a little surprised that she had managed to figure it out.

“Tina!?” Dustin spluttered.

Lucas nudged him in the shoulder playfully and Mike bellowed out a laugh.

“Shut it, Michelle.”

“You shut it, Tina!”

Steve immediately regretted giving the kids this ammunition to use against each other. He knew that Michelle, Tina, Willa, and Laura were going to be hurled around as insults for the foreseeable future. They all quickly turned back to trying to guess Eddie’s name, going through all the same options as Steve and Robin had tried a week ago.

Robin looked over at him and he nodded, they weren’t going to get it. Even though Gayle and Tina didn’t follow the letter pattern, those names still had some connection to the originals. Lucy Munson just had to be different, just like Eddie Munson, Steve thought.

“It’s Lucy!” Robin exclaimed.

“Lucy!?” Dustin repeated. “That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“That’s what we said,” Robin and Steve said at the same time.

Eddie had gone eerily quiet beside them. Steve hoped he wasn’t self-conscious about the name, Steve thought it was pretty.

“Who doesn’t love Lucy?” Eddie said with a sudden grin.

“Better than Tina,” Dustin muttered and everyone laughed.

---

The whole day had been so good.

The sun had shone brightly and there was delicious food and laughter and Steve joined in like he would have before and it was… good. Easy. He felt like himself again. When he finally went to bed that night, it was with a lingering smile on his face.

But –

He really should have known better.

Part 16

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues @newtstabber @queenie-ofthe-void @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36 @whole-moods

- So sorry for the delay on this one! -Bit of cliffhanger here, I hope the next chapter wont take me as long - I do have a good portion of it written up already and HOOO BOY. -As always, please tell me your thoughts and feelings! I love hearing from you all!

[littledollll]

Hi hi!

1. I miss you you, I hope you are doing well

2. I have a Larissa x reader request

I’m thinking angst and emotional hurt reader and needing comfort and fluff because it’s 100% self indulgent.

Reader can have a side job on the weekends working good service and deals with dirty looks and yelling customers because they are doing their job correctly and it takes an emotional toll on them. Larissa idk stands up for them maybe and/or comforts them because she sees the toll it’s taking on the reader.

Hi yeah so this is what I’ve been dealing with as of late except I don’t have a Larissa Weems coming to comfort me afterwards. If you don’t want to write it, I understand.

Recharge

Larissa Weems x reader

A/n: hello my darling! I’m sorry this took so long I lowkey just quit writing for a whole week-, I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you were looking for so I really hope you like it.

Warnings: little bit of people being mean, the rest is all fluffy goodness.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I understand your frustration, really. But there’s no way I can help you while you’re screaming so please-“ it was useless, like words came in one ear and left out the other.

Today was simply not your day. Sure, there was always one or two customers who decided to be assholes for no reason every day, but today you couldn’t catch a damn break.

Larissa knew the moment you walked through the front door that there was something wrong. The exhausted look on your face made it clear enough and immediately she wanted nothing more than to somehow make you feel better.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did Larissa for a moment. Letting you settle home for a second before trying to get you to talk to her about it.

After you showered and dressed you practically jumped into Larissa’s waiting arms with a drawn out sigh. Her hand coming up to play with your hair, and her voice was soft when she spoke. “Long day?”

“Exhausting.”

“I know it’s not easy to not let them get to you.. but you work hard my love, and you’re a great employee. I know that much, so whatever it is they say, or do, just know you’re not deserving of that harsh treatment. Some people really have nothing better to do.”

You didn’t really have to say anything for her to know, of course it wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“I’ll never understand why people resort to being so unbelievably rude at any situation possible where they don’t get their way. It’s not in my control, sometimes not even in theirs! But they’ll find something to yell at me about, trust.” Larissa would take it to her grave but she found it incredibly adorable whenever you were upset. You just became so expressive, you’d change your voice and talk with your hands, sometimes imitate expressions or mock them and she couldn’t help but adore you more.

“How the hell are some adults worse than teenagers.” you sighed and hid into her chest with a hum as you finished your rant. “Oh comfortable, are you?” Larissa glared playfully down at you and raised a brow, to which you glared back and nodded. “I’m very comfortable and I deserve it so deal with it!” Larissa chuckled at your antics, wrapping her arms around you.

You sat in comfortable silence then, enjoying the warmth Larissa was providing as she let you rest curled up to her chest.

Sure, work could be absolute hell, but you always had her to rant and recharge your energies. What more could you ask for?

[ay-miphae]

I like hearing peoples' life stories, so it might be cool to hear some of your life story (as much as you are willing to tell)

*this is in response to that reblog about asks and rants and such

Hell yea thank you for such a loaded ask, this took me awhile to think about but I have not forgotten but now that Inktober madness is over I’ll go for it.

Hmm. Life story is interesting, I don’t know if there’s much of a tangible story there yet. I’ve come to realize I don’t have a very strong sense of identity or self, rather basing my identity off my hyperfixations so that’s often the closest I get to describing myself. But I have this whole blog for that purpose lmao, and also for my interests in music and drawing. But a significant constant in my life (that I don’t talk a whole lot about here) is coffee.

It’s a little silly I know. I am a little too dependent on my beloved bean water and you guys are free to tease me about that lmao. But it’s always been here.

It was there in my childhood years, the smell of fresh brewed coffee from the kitchen every morning. My dad still drinks black coffee (almost) every morning, and I think I must have been 4 when I insisted on trying it the first time. “Yea I like it!” (I did not. It was very bitter.)

Sometimes the grocery store would have coffee samples, where I had a field day trying them all and somehow growing to like the taste. And then I realized I could add milks and flavors and be creative with it. Enjoying coffee of any kind became a source of comfort and something I looked forward to and cherished through my early teenage years. Maybe a cafe run with a friend that was just so special and unique to me, or the time it iced over all the streets and my dad and I brewed a particular brand of coffee that gives me nostalgia every time I taste it, or making myself a bit of something to tide me over a long night of studying.

When I was old enough to get a job, that’s naturally where I gravitated. Don’t get me wrong - customer service takes a lot out of you - but it was something I genuinely enjoyed for awhile. Like - wow, I get to make a coffee for this person? That’s so cool! I mean the magic certainly gets lost after countless afternoon rushes and unpleasant customer interactions. I don’t know though. I guess it’s still a special thing I get to do, and it feels nice to put artistic craft and care into something that would have meant the world to me a few years back.

I’ve never been that close with my parents. But somehow the bean water still works wonders. Buying a Chemex coffeemaker for my dad for Christmas, deciding that we wanted an espresso machine at home, talking over getting some coffee to go. A little outside my comfort zone, but I guess little steps count. Not to mention the times my closest IRL friend (@samevanssatscores hi) and I have yoinked ourselves to the local coffee + records shop to bond over going absolutely feral over iced lattes and records neither of us have ever heard of. And meeting both of my online best friends in person and being so excited that hey! we’re having coffee (or boba) together! in person this time!

So I guess this is my long-winded ode to bean water, which, sure, is a universal drink that keeps millions of people awake each day. But it’s not just function, it’s about the experience of enjoying it and connecting via it, and that’s something that’s only gotten more and more true in my life.

[cator99]

What is your job?

the company i work for has contracts with several large grocery chains. We do whatever they need, day or night. On an average day that means we are reorganizing product layout and adjusting shelves based on updated planograms that merchandising specialists for these companies churn out constantly to accommodate new products, remove discontinued, expand space for products that have been selling well, reduce products that aren't, confuse and trick customers into considering a product that is now in the place of the one that used to be there that they specifically came to get, etc, all while make it look perfectly clean and uniform. because between shipments, store employees aren't on the floor adjusting products. So yup that's the easy stuff but it's still relatively labour intensive and requires an eye for detail and a love of puzzles (if you dont want to go crazy while doing this for anywhere from 5 to 12 hours a day)... a lot of people keep an airpod in while they do this but well personally I think if you need to do that... YNGMI. We also deal with special one-time projects like electronic tag setup where we spend 4 to 5 days painstakingly cutting and installing new mouldings and then replacing every paper tag with ones that can be updated via what is essentially a fancy bluetooth system. However we have since finished updating all our contracted stores. Sad! But if you live in the GTA and your grocery store has electronic tags just know that was very likely partially my doing. Um what else uh one time I spent 4 weeks with just my coworker-housemate driving all over first of all recieving and then unloading massive heavy boxes in order to build and then install new bulk bins and then recieving the product shipment and stocking the shelves so that the actual store stockers knew how it was supposed to look. I liked that one a lot. We got sent way out all over and were frequently put up in motels. Things have been kind of slow lately but I overheard the union rep talking with my team lead yesterday about an upcoming project 😁 I recommend merchandising for anyone on stimulants looking for an entry-level job where you get to be at a different place pretty much every day moving around at top speeds doing variations of the same things oh and best part is that participating in customer service rituals is entirely optional ie shifted back into the realm of normal human interaction

[syrupspinner]

i am obsessed with roman sands re:build

so now im gonna talk about it for a looooooong time. you can hit j to skip posts

roman sands re:build is an upcoming game developed by arbitrary metric (paratropic) and published by serenity forge (ddlc+, lisa definitive edition, slay the princess pristine, basically if it has text boxes and is an updated release it was these guys). notably, it is a remake of a visual novel just called roman sands, but ive deliberately avoided learning anything about the older release because I don't want spoilers

it's hard to pin it to one genre. you could call it an adventure game? you take first-person control of someone... interchangeable. nobody cares about your name, and people seem to use whatever pronouns is most convenient for their perception of you in any given moment. anyway, it's your job to be the busybody at this resort. fulfill requests until the day ends, which takes four room transitions. you start in the morning when you first enter the main doors, then it goes to noon, then afternoon, then evening, then you quit

then it's the next day. you're in a time loop... probably. this is also just what working in retail is like, I've been told. every day has you do the same thing for the same people. oh, speaking of,

everybody hates you. there are four hotel guests: Betty, who will yell about hoe youre awful at your job and you should be ashamed; her husband Harold, who is scatterbrained and weak-willed but at least knows how to say thanks: Sylvia, a high-class lady who condescends at you; and... bunk

I mentioned your perception is inconsistent. Betty sees you as maliciously incompetent, Sylvia is equally insulting but in a way that's more concerned with emphasizing her own superiority, and I'm not sure if Harold even knows you work here. but bunk can flip-flop in the moment. sometimes, he sees you as one of the guys that he can talk with about the good old days where you could complement women on their bodies without them calling hr. sometimes he sees you as one of those women. he doesn't care about who you are in the slightest, you're just a means of gratifying whatever whims he has. well, the others are like that too, but bunk is the most obviously carnal.

the main gameplay loop sees you routing the most efficient way to maximize your XP gain. since entering a door advances time, and the tasks reset every loop, you can do stuff like... getting Betty's pills before she asks for them, and going through the side door so you can fetch Harold a chair before he asks for it. cutting down on backtracking means you can do as much work as possible in as short amount of time as possible, just like a real overworked minimum wage service worker!

the games design and atmosphere does a great job at distilling this sense of frantic pace-keeping. I could never play stuff like diner Dash cuz I always got overwhelmed by having to keep all the orders straight and worrying about customers getting even a little unhappy. RSr:B fixes both of those problems, the former by making everything predictable enough to plan around and account for with previous attempts explicitly not mattering. the later is addressed by making everyone a stupid jerk.

also, just because i dont realy dwell on it, the aesthetic is amazing for non-thematic reasons. i love the use of cool colours despite the tropical setting, it emphasizes the tranquility that is intended by the location, and heavily contrasts with the presence of the sun as a threat to the narrative, which emphasizes the threat's dismissal. wait shit thats a thematic reason again, fuck. i love pretty dreamcast beaches and shiny y2k ui elements and the stupid stretchy noodle people. it just looks so cool man. im and english student not an art studen so i cant really articulate why i think that without just saying its pretty and i like looking at it.

anyway, there are so many minor mechanical things that are built to goad you into hurrying the fuck up. you start each day with two minutes on the clock, and if that clock runs out, you... miss out on a little xp boost. if you walk on an arrow path to whatever task is closest, you go way faster, encouraging you to move straight from one request to the other without breathing. and you cant select responses by scrolling through a menu, you have to select it from the number row. its like in a shooter, if you couldnt use a weapon wheel and always had to quick-select, which of course encourages you to be quick

there's enough that encourages you not to get too stagnant with your loops too. first, there's a sense of mutual exclusivity. there is only one drink, and two people want it. second, there's unlockable items! this is the main use of leveling up. for example, you can get a mop to clean bunks puke (don't actually you'll softlock and the demo doesn't save) or get that checkbook Silvia wants you to sign. or a simple toolbox

ooo, another thing is the tutorial. just when youre about to enter the doors, you get a pop-up of a girl telling you stuff lie "keep your head down" and "hurry up" that dont actually tutorialize much of the gameplay itself. i think this is another deliberate satire of capitalism. the most important part about getting and maintaining a job isnt your skillset, its who you know and how well you adhere to the culture. it doesnt matter how well you do the skills if you dont know your place

also, the game is really good about teaching you things naturalistically. betty asks you for a marg (with the pop-up lady redundantly telling you to get her the marg, but this would be really helpful to the players that were very understandably overwhelmed/disoriented by being yelled at by three people at once). bring it to her and she immediately barks another order at you, which tells the player that you talk to people to get requests. then, you go outside and get her pills like she asked, and you learn about the mechanic where time pass when you go to a different area.

the main goal of the demo, the main thing you're working towards, is fixing the elevator. well youre in luck, because the thing that you get from being level 3 (which you can get in your first day if you know what youre doing) is a toolbox. its not robust enough to fix the boiler in the basement, but... actually no it cant do anything about the elevator because its too sulfur-y. from here im going to spoil the central puzzle to completing the demo, so if anything ive said sounds interesting, leave now and play it

so! if you take some time to look around, youll notice the orrery. yes thats its name, yes thats a real word, yes i also misread it as ossuary and got super concerned for a minute. the orrery it has a large yellow chunk in the middle, and a planet missing from the display. theres a solar system display in the main lobby. so take the planet thats logically missing from both displays (or just take em all and just see which one fits - its mercury btw) and put it into place. now just... rotate the display until the planets align and beam the sun from the left into into the yellow chunk and... it retracts, showing you the idea of sulfur. you can use that to fix the elevator, and then the demo ends! nothing noteworthy or worth mentioning happens after that point. nope, not even [withheld]. look i know too many people that ignore spoiler warning but i still wanna leave something for them to discover when they play the demo, because you are going to play the demo

now, with everything (audible wink) established about what this game is, lets talk about why it is that way. i know i usually jump right into the analysis assuming that the reader already knows about the game, but like, there are three people who have posted about this on tumblr. two of them are developers and im the other one.

so first and foremost, ripping the bandaid off, this game is anticapitalist as fuck. you play as a service worker that has their humanity brushed aside at best for the sake of fulfilling menial tasks. your paycheck is sporatic, and they only things you can spend it on are consumerist trash that literally does not matter. at the end of the work day you vanish into the sea, crawling right back out when the next day starts, as a metaphor for how the people being serviced by these workers see them as their job and nothing else, dehumanizing them to the point that nobody in the game realizes that youre a human being first and a worker second. your opinions and feelings dont matter, just your labour. and i dont have to tell you that the time loop represents the banal repetition of the 9-to-5.

also, its getting hotter. every day is one tick off the countdown where the sun fucks the big one and... maybe youll die, maybe youll just be in hell. this is also anticapitalist, because this is pretty obviously... fuck i dont even wanna call it a metaphor because it just kind of is climate anxiety. its mentioned once as something too far in the future to care about, if its even a problem at all, and youre expected to go about your day without thinking about it. but at the end of every day you still see it. n days until the sun dies. just ignore it, you cant do anything about it

the aesthetic plays into this too. you know im a sucker for paradise-like locals, and my favorite thing you can do in them is explore what goes on behind the curtain to make them paradise. like, in Paradise Killer, a lot of ink is spilled over human "workers" sacrificing their lives to build something that will just be scrapped for some trivial imperfection. here, you essentially play as one of the humans trying to upkeep the illusion of perfection. its supposed to be incongruent to your gameplay experience because youre just a worker, your experience doesnt matter, this is all for the guests sake. your frantic gameplay is deliberately contrasted with the serene locale and calming music

oh! the calming music! theres one track in the game that isnt a chill beat, and its... the level up music. the first thing i thought of when i saw it? a slot machine. did you know theyre often designed to have flashy and appealing scenes play out both when you win and when you lose? its to subconsciously trick your brain into thinking youre doing a better job than you are, that youre winning in some way just by continuing to pour your money away. i dont think thats a coincidence. first, slot machines are a great symbol of the evils of capitalism, a machine that only offers the "service" of a slim chance of receiving money that, realistically speaking, is dwarfed by what youve already lost. the purpose of a system is what it does, and gambling as a systemic part of life is successful in bankrupting as many vulnerable people as possible.

how does that play into roman sands re:build? well, like a slot machine, the extravagance of the music and the visuals exists to play up what youre getting. on one hand, this is just a reasonable way to design a game, emphasize gameplay rewards with something flashy so players have an increased sense of accomplishment. on the other, this is meant to convince the player that slow incremental progress towards finally earning the right to use a mop bucket is something worth celebrating. it reminds me of how often employers try to trick their employees into being satisfied with stuff like pizza parties instead of, like, raises. this may sound like a stretch to you but id like to take a moment to remind you that this game includes a gacha system for literal useless trash for no other reason than to satirize how consumerism encourages you to spend money on things that cost as little as possible, valuing consumption for consumption's sake rather than the actual value of what youre consuming. why wouldnt they extend this to also satirize how capitalism undervalues workers by withholding basic amenities and minimal compensation as a reward for doing as much as you can as fast as you can? keep working, motherfucker, maybe youll get that better toolbox soon

wage theft is one of the most common forms of abuse done to the working class. it follows, then, that it is one of the most normalized. it takes many forms, like unpaid overtime and withholding benefits. perhaps the most notable are forcing employees to purchase mandatory equipment out of pocket (a central game mechanic as discussed earlier) and asking employees to do things outside of the scope of their position. of course, this is how the gameplay works on a fundamental level. you are asked to do the work of a receptionist, a janitor, a bartender, and even a masseuse. notably, this is done by the customers and not the administration. I'll get into the lack of a distinct employer figure later, so for now I'll go into how the layman's complacency in abusive systems seems to be a major theme of the game

yknow what im gonna talk more about harold. the other guests are actively disrespectful and directly abusive to you, so Harold definitely stands out. he requests things from you politely, and shows you sincere gratitude. here's the thing though, he's TOO accepting. Betty arguably treats you the worst out of the four guests, and Harold is never seen even attempting to oppose her. he's on to something when he hears the vmmmmm vmmmm noise from the basement, because there's a giant ominous machine if unknown purpose, but Betty yells at him until he stops caring. his abuse towards you, the working class, is not through shouting insults at your capability or sexual assault or insulting your personhood directly. it's through witnessing you be mistreated, and embracing it as the status quo, making the most requests to you out of everybody. at least when the others dehumanize you they're blunt about it, but Harold being the nicest person while still only seeing you as a worker to be commanded stings in a special way. being treated this way is normal, it's the best you can hope for

not only does Harold serve an important role in showing how complacency in an abusive system helps perpetuate it just the same as active participation, but he also more specifically connects to the climate change metaphor. just as all the guests mistreat you in a unique way, they all dismiss the growing heat in unique ways. bunk notices it, but is too caught in his vices and self-loathing to really care that much about the realistic consequences inplied by the fucking su dying. betty says that shes fine with an awful thing happening to everyone because itll probably hurt the people she hates, meaning she definitely votes conservative. and Harold, having heard all this, questions it but soon blissfully dismisses his concerns, a toxic positivity urging him that things always turn out for the best. the other viewpoints are selfish in self-explanatory ways, with Harold representing the climate deniers who see the topic as too confusing and complicated to hold a proper opinion on. Harold I'm shoving a microphone in your face how do you feel about the conflict in the middle east

did you notice i didnt mention sylvia? she doesnt comment. she takes the moment to passively insult those shes around. between you and me, i think she knows more than she lets on, it seems too much like shes deliberately dodging the topic. also, from the way she talks about couture later, specifically upholding it as something godly and unfit for mere cattle (the player) it kinda feels like she has to be in some higher position. or being on the same level as the lower-class that she demonstrably hates is really starting to get to her, and she feels the need to distance herself from the likes of us.

let's get back to the lack of an employer figure. depending on how you interpret [withheld] it can be theorized that kara (yes thats her name no you didnt miss anything) holds this role, especially since it seems to be her in the tutorial pop-ups. I disagree with this for more wide-scope reasons, I think you sincerely washed up in shore one day. the doyalist explanation is that it is how all workers are seen to operate. the working class is not envisioned by those they serve as having lives outside of their job. how often have you considered what your cashier's hobbies might be? their family, their weekend plans, their politics? youre probably just waiting for the card reader to let you scan and go home, all you're worried about is the service provided by their labour. I'm using "you" but I do this exact shit all the time too, to be clear. anyway, it further emphasizes the guests dehumanization of you in their perception. they can imagine that when a human works at a job, they answer to a boss. but when presented with a service, a worker just becomes a means to that end, and their humanity is replaced by their labour.

even if you didn't disappear into the sea, it wouldn't make any difference to them, they only think about you to acknowledge when you're not performing with proper efficiency, just like how you don't think about your clothes until they stop fitting, or you don't comment on roads without potholes, because there's nothing remarkable about meeting expectations.

so. what's up with that anyway. I've yapped about metaphors and figurative representation for a while now, but what's the lore? well, fuck if I know, it's a demo. but I've got some theories

theory one, it's a simulation. that would make sense with what is presented to us in the [withheld] segment, and also explain the time loop succinctly. the vmmmmmm machine could be some sort of core of the simulation? the lobby is full of larger-than-life paintings and sculptures, which may be foreshadowing that the entire world you're in is also man made (also, since i dont bring it up anywhere, i like how youre surrounded by art by never encouraged to interact with it, highlighting how capitalist obligation prevents us from truly appreciating the artistic). it is all but told to you that you're an interchangeable replacement for a previous employee, whatever happened to them, and some sort of matrix-style disposable humanity schema would fit right in to that. for the rest I can just say "it's like that one visual novel" and I think most of you will get it

theory two, it's the afterlife. it would make sense considering the location is called paradise in marketing. sulfur as an element is heavily associated with demons, so perhaps there's meant to be some symbolism that's made more solid in later parts of the game? here i can say its interesting that you obtain it by stepping outside of your role and not adhering to commands, which can parallel an angel disobeying the will of god. and using it to actively solve the problem could represent breaking traditional thought with new ways of thinking outside of doctrine? i dunno, it's hard to really say what it represents in the grand scheme before I've like, played the whole thing. also, that could mean [withheld] is a flashback to before you were conscripted into servitude (read: died), especially since the store page specifies that its post-apocalyptic. the cow imagery gains a double meaning here as well: they're seen as livestock meant to be literally churned into product, but hinduism sees them as sacred. something something essential worker, most see the proletariat as a disposable beast of meat, the animal itself just a means to an end of what they produce, but a select enlightened subsect of the world understand their importance to upkeeping society. which i guess are marxists in this metaphor? again ive only played the demo so this is 70% extrapolation

oh, speaking of cows, you can find a cow that has suffocated from neglect. I think this can connect to the whole worker dehumanization theme, but my intuition tells me it'll be more relevant to the [withheld] parts, in a way that is complimentary but still stands alone. god that part is so interesting, kara just could not wait to talk about dying. the voice actress nailed that shit

okay one last thing. the release was originally planned for summer 2023. its almost 2025 and the steam page still says "coming soon". completely sincerely: good shit. it would be hilariously pathetic to overwork for an arbitrary metric deadline when the entire game is like, about how shit that specific practice is. I love to see devs taking their time to make things the best they can.

if you can't tell I'm. kind of excited for this game. i dont usually go this in-depth but the thought of this thing instills the innate autistic urge to yap deep within my soul. but like i said earlier i dont really have the capacity to talk about stuff like how it looks and how it plays without just blindly gushing. did you know in the gameplay reveal trailer on serenity forge's youtube channel, your character nudges forward a little bit whenever they pick something up? this doesnt seem to still be the case, as interacting with objects now gives a full-screen prompt with the option to pick it up or examine it. also you dont seem to be any further forward when the prompt goes away.

okay. im gonna try and be less biased and come up with a critique. um, the demo could benefit from a save system, since its pretty easy for players who are taking their time and taking in the atmosphere to spend over an hour on this. you could argue that since the game is about going fast and being efficient through time loops that its not that big of a deal, and i agree! if a player quits the demo halfway through they can get back to where they were pretty quickly. but the demo does have a few glitches, like moments where it softlocked on a selection menu and it forced me to alt+f4. i know this'll be fixed in the full game anyway though so who cares.

uhhh i can see people being thrown off my having to click the mouse to advance dialogue but not being able to click menu options? i explained earlier how i think thats thematically resonant, but themes or no themes its still an inconvenience that players might have a problem with. the game has the colours and animations so built-in to how it works im not sure how robust the accessibility options are gonna be but that remains to be seen. but players are already complaining that the demo made em motion sick so i hope people sensitive to that kinda thing still have a chance to enjoy this. theres also how it isnt very obvious that you can select other planets in the lobby solar system but the dev said theyd improve that for the full release so im not gonna make a redundant suggestion.

um. there are probably. other things? accessibility/approachability is pretty important, but im just trying to be considerate of other potential players. if youre asking about what i, personally, think needs to be improved i can think of much. maybe if you play you can find a flaw, cuz i sure didnt. when you play the demo, let me know if i missed anything! i feel like i discover something new to talk about every time i launch this thing, which... is too often i think

this post is 4000 words. its almost 4 am. play the demo for roman sands re:build and add it to your steam wishlist.

[adilqalbi]

if they all had to swap jobs for a day, whose job would cause the most chaos? who would excel?

thank you for this question because it's actually making me think in detail about what their company actually does! so, I did mention in the first fic that lane was translating documents from Russian to English for some clients so the idea of what the company actually does is present there, just not fully fleshed out by me.

It's probably a company that deals with clients globally and helps with exports and imports? idk if companies like that actually exist but in my au they do. that's the only thing in my head which makes sense in relation to what lane was doing.

now, after all that:

what are their exact roles?

they are all corporate workers, so their jobs are kinda similar but

Dmitry is the team leader and his team is assigned to make communications between some companies in Russia and New York. (the au takes place in new york mostly). he ensures that everything runs as smoothly as possible.

Greg handles the communication with company representatives because he feels like a diplomatic person who would know how to strike good deals.

Anna drafts agreement documents and contracts between companies along with Kira. Cain is also part of this unit, proofreading and editing the documents to ensure they are perfect. then these documents go to lane so that she can translate them to Russian as and when necessary. She also translates Russian to English as well, obviously.

Anhea and Pileon are responsible he graphic designing of things. The typography of the contracts, the logo designing. They are also part of the advertising department so that's where the graphic designing also comes into play.

Yan also works in tandem with Dmitry's squad, (although he hasn't made his appearance yet) and he's the head of quality assurance. Customer service basically. He will make sure the clients are happy with their experience and make reports on their experiences and try to problem solve in case of any discrepancies.

Lester and Noah are assistants to Greg and Yan basically so Lester shadows Greg in negotiation meetings and writes emails when Greg doesnt want to lmao and Noah helps write up reports with Yan

NOW

if they had to swap.

im putting this in a random wheel to decide

Dmitry (LEADER): the random wheel has chosen. Greg will swap with Dmitry and it's so funny because this happened in canon and seems pretty in character. I think greg would do well as leader definitely. he may doubt himself at times, and dmitry probably would feel weird not being leader but they will get over it.

Greg (Team Representative): the wheel chose noah. omg. NOT NOAH. he hates interaction ngl. he will unironically write ''I hope this email finds you deep in the trenches of burning hell'' and lane is the only one who can talk him out of hitting send. bro will pick fights with every client, he is ready to throw hands. definitely up there in chaotic - ness.

Noah (Assistant to Yan): Anhea. I think she could manage decently well, this is basically customer service but it will definitely take a while for her to get used to it and a huge learning curve. i think it would stump her creativity definitely and she would be upset about it. i wont blame her if she decides to quit. also she's an introvert too so um. yeah customer service + introvert is gonna be tiring for her.

Anhea (graphic designer + advertising): the wheel almost landed on pileon (they have the same job, so that would be boring) but it ended up choosing yan. yan...is good with words and letting people know his opinion but uh. i dont think he would necessarily have a lot of experience with advertising. bro will have a LOT to learn but i think he will quietly try his best and make it work.

Yan (Quality Assurance Head): Anna. I think she would do well tbh. She's a perfectionist, i feel, and very organised so her reports and notes will literally be perfect (yan and noah's are good too, but just not perfect) and she will try her best to problem solve too although i imagine she will sometimes ask for advice on how to go about it.

Anna(drafting): Pileon! He hates drafting stuff. He will be grumpy so grumpy always upset. he will also procrastinate on drafting because he just doesnt want to do it and end up pulling all - nighters with ten cups of coffee to meet the deadline. he would be a pain in everyone's ass about it. Kira and he are fighting constantly.

Pileon (graphic design + advertising): Lester doesnt know graphic design. he still can be a good salesman but honestly, when it comes to creative design, bro has the roughest drafts with no colour scheme and bad fonts. yan is crying. yan has never wanted to kill someone more.

Lester: Dmitry being an assistant was NAWT in my bingo. Dmitry and Noah working together to negotiate and communicate with clients oh god. war. bloody war. dmitry has a short temper and clients can be annoying as fuck.

Kira (Drafting): Lane is drafting now. while they work in the same unit translating and drafting are two vv different things. and i dont think lane is good with words. i worry for her.

Lane (Translator): uhhhh so Kira gets to translate. She's monolingual. this is gonna be a mix of google translate, learning Russian in language apps and asking Dmitry, Anna and Lane for help because they are fluent in Russian. um. kira is NAWT qualified. god help her. she will be quitting within a week.

[legendsgalore]

Stupid stuff ppl say to me at my work, just a personal rant

All of these are separate incidents, and sometimes i cant believe people are real, they can be this stupid, and they are not only living their lives but thriving despite being this pathetically stupid. For context, I work as a barista at a specialty chocolate shop, in a higher end historical area, it's a small business, and the shop is like 400 sq foot MAX. The customer base is mainly white, old, and rich people.

--- Customer: *walks into the shop, goes straight to the counter* So do you sell dark chocolate? --- Customer: *holds up a chocolate bar* So is this hot chocolate? --- Me: So this is a product called "Drinking Chocolate" Customer: So what do you do with it? --- Customer: I can't believe you guys don't sell chocolate dog biscuits --- Include every customer who has the "billion dollar idea" for the shop --- We have a drink specials board, where the drink is in colored text and right below it is the description of the drink in white, with the different drinks separated by a dotted white line. People will ask me what the drink is.....like the description is right BELOW it. --- Frequently, people walk into the shop, and I call out "welcome in!" To them. I can project my voice well, and i am a very cutesy-happy customer-friendly person at work. I get ignored like 50% of the time, and I have had people outright grunt at me. --- Person: *brings their dog into the shop* Me: Oh sorry, we don't allow dogs into the shop unless they are service animals Person: Oh...uhhh this is definitely a service animal Me: >:( (legally in my state I can't question that, unless the animal is being an outright nuisance/danger) --- We are also a coffee shop, and ppl have tried to buy milk from our fridges?? Like the literal gallons of it???? --- I am a tiny gal, height and size, and this is a frequent enough question that my coworkers and I joke about it: "So how do you stay so skinny working here?" "So how much chocolate do you really eat working here?" Or they say shit like this: "I would weight a thousand pounds if I worked here!" ew. just ew. --- Another thing is OVER HALF of the customers walk in and just go "MMMMMMM WOW IT SMELLS SO GOOD IN HERE!!!" Like, obnoxiously loudly, usually interrupting me welcoming them in. It's a valid observation, but it's annoying in the unoriginality, like everyone is in fact following the same script here. Plus everyone wants the same response from me, an enthusiastic nod and a "yeah!" I lost the will to do that a couple months ago. But, again, valid observation. --- Anyone who comes in and is loudly declaring how milk/dark chocolate is better in the tone where they actually believe the objectiveness of their statements and don't realize that it's a subjective opinion. Like I put out free samples everyday, and ppl will come up and outright go "Ew!" If it's their disliked darkness of chocolate. I've had customers try samples, dislike it, and then tell other customers that we make bad chocolate. Like sorry you didn't like the chocolate, but it was free and why are you trying to hurt our small business? --- Finally, everyone who walks in and goes "oH tHiS pLaCe Is So DaNgErOuS i ShOuLdn'T -" Then gtfu. If you don't want the perceived guilt of eating chocolate, then don't walk into the chocolate shop. No we don't have sugar free, calorie free, guilt free, chocolates. I am sick of all the jokes about how people shouldn't be here, shouldn't eat this, how they shouldn't buy more, how they're already buying too much (two bars of chocolate), how this is so bad, like omfg? Are you your mother? Stop with this diet-culture talk. It's disgusting. ---

However, despite the customers being stupid, it adds a lot of interest to my day, and I love my job. My boss is an absolutely amazing person, I would do literally anything for her, and I love all my coworkers. I am so lucky to have this job, and I respect the shop a ton. Despite my hope for humanity somehow going into the negatives over these months, I will give my 100% each day at work.

[livebeginning]

Ok I wanna talk more about my OC Mio from my fic Pretty Little Pet where I ship him with Raphael. So under the cut I'll put:

Art!! (mostly picrews and one drawing by me)

Mio's life before Raphael bought him

Raphael buying Mio

How Raphael treats Mio and his motivations

About Mio being Raphael's pet

Art

First of, I intentionally never described Mio's appearance in the fic, because I kinda wanted the reader to imagine their own version of Mio. So if you read my fic and are now going "Wow I thought Mio looked really different!" That's totally valid! He can look however you want! (Also please tell me how you imagined him, I'd love to hear about it!)

The first picture I drew myself, but it's heavily referenced off of the picrew in the second picture.

The second and third pic are basically a timeline of how Mio changes throughout the story (and the different outfits he wears). The other picrews are random outfits and based on vibes haha

Picrew for the second pic

Picrew for the third pic

Picrew for the fourth pic

Picrew for the fifth pic

Picrew for the sixth pic (lost the link, will add later)

Picrew for the seventh pic (lost the link, will add later)

And the 8th pic is my attempt at making him in BG3, he's a half-elf here because I didn't like any of the male elf faces ^^'

Before Raphael

Mio is a male high elf in his 30s, living with his parents. Mio is his child name, as his parents have not yet given him an adult name.

His parents are criminals, although Mio isn’t aware of that, thinking they also work regular jobs. They mostly commit petty crimes but still dream of one day running a criminal empire. Every time something goes wrong they just skip town. The few times one of them gets caught and released for [money] they blame it on their lack of finances, making Mio feel guilty for not working enough.

Mio was definitely not planned and he often feels unwanted. His parents treat him like a child and while they aren’t physically abusive, they will berate him for the slightest mistakes, send him to bed or work without letting him eat and are just generally pretty shitty.

His parents make him work regular jobs like waiting tables, cleaning and other work that requires little education. He’s their only reliant source of income. Despite this, he has no control over their finances, all money going directly to his parents.

He has little contact with other people, working most of the time and leaving town before he could make meaningful relationships with his coworkers.

Mio is generally shy but polite, pretty much in customer service mode at all times. He has learned to just do whatever his parents tell him to, to avoid getting yelled at or going hungry yet again. Since his parents often tell him that he’s still a child by elf standards, his only real aspiration is to reach elven adulthood (generally around 100 years) and receive his adult name, so that he may leave his parent’s household and become independent. (Most elves in his position, living in mixed society and working,  would have already left their parent’s household. Mio’s parents intentionally keep this false worldview around him so that he’ll stay and keep working for them.)

Raphael buys Mio

Mio’s parents have the brilliant idea to get the money they need to start their criminal empire by selling their son. They seek out various options until Raphael answers. They sell their son for just a few hundred gold coins (Mio is unaware of this). We know from the game that Raphael has bought people before, so it’s not OOC for him. Mio is still considered a child by elf standards so that’s why his parents are able to legally sell him. (Also Gortash could sell Karlach to Zariel no problem and she just worked for him, so the rules on who can sell people are a bit weird anyways.)

 Raphael doesn’t really need Mio, he mostly accepts the offer to see how his parents will fail spectacularly at trying to make a criminal empire and have a bit of fun with that, maybe even profit from the chaos they cause doing this or make another deal for their souls down the line.

Raphael still wants to put his new purchase to work and tries to determine how Mio could be useful for him. While they talk in his office Raphael shows Mio his cambion form. Mio is enamored by his form, and Raphael is not immune to flattery. Raphael also notices that Mio is easily flustered, blushes a lot and is very touch starved.

Raphael enjoys all of these reactions Mio has for him and decides to have some fun with that. He makes Mio the offer to become his pet, with the caveat that only Raphael is allowed to touch him.

Mio is aware he’s dealing with a devil here, who literally owns him and could just decide to torture him instead, so of course he accepts. Generally Mio knows that he has to do what Raphael tells him to and keep him happy, or risk making Raphael angry and getting killed or tortured. While their relationship gets more relaxed later on, Mio is always aware that Raphael is the one in control and he often has anxiety over accidentally doing something that might upset Raphael.

At this point, Raphael doesn’t have any concrete plans for what he’s going to do with Mio, he just thinks he’s cute and wants to see if he can turn him into a loyal and obedient pet by just showing him a bit of kindness. And if that doesn’t work out, it’d probably be still fun to just torture him.

Raphael’s treatment of Mio

Raphael treats Mio generally pretty well, because I believe Raphael can be a reasonable person. Korilla says she likes working for Raphael and the archivist and Nubaldin seem to be at least content working for him. Devils are also lawful evil, so I think they appreciate it when their rules are being followed. Of course, rules can also be intentionally set up to be impossible to follow, so they have an excuse to punish those who break them. 

When Mio breaks the “Only Raphael can touch him” rule, it’s mostly because someone else touched him without his consent. He still gets punished for it and Raphael enjoys making Mio suffer, although he only hurts Mio to an extent he knows he can handle, not wanting to actually break him. Raphael praises Mio for accepting his punishment willingly, which gives Mio conflicting feelings about these punishments. He doesn’t enjoy being tortured, but he likes the praise and attention he receives afterwards and he knows that Raphael enjoys hurting him and wants Raphael to be happy.

By Mio’s standards, Raphael treats him pretty well. He gets his own room and new clothes, much better quality and style than his old clothes. He gets access to the servant’s baths and kitchen (I’m making the HoH way bigger than it is in the game btw) and he can eat as much as he wants. Raphael even tells him to eat at least three meals per day (Mio is used to less so he only eats two when he first arrives).

Raphael makes him work at first, telling him to clean the archive. He does this in part because he wants Mio to keep busy but also because he wants to know if Mio is the kind of person who would try to take a look at his things without permission. The archivist has secret instructions to keep an eye on Mio and report to Raphael on his behavior. Mio isn’t really aware of this test and just cleans the archive as instructed. Later, Raphael has him clean the halls and eventually Mio doesn’t have to do any work anymore, as he has other stuff to keep him busy.

Mio being a pet

Raphael is a devil (technically a half devil but whatever) and I think devils generally see mortals as beneath them. So it’s not uncommon for devils to treat mortals similar to how we would treat cats or dogs (though devils tend to be a lot less nice to their pets).

As his pet, Raphael has Mio sit by his side while he reads or works and strokes his hair or touches his skin. Mio enjoys being pet because he received very little affection before. He also can just relax during these petting sessions, he’s technically not doing anything but he’s still being useful, so he doesn’t have to feel guilty about doing nothing.

Raphael enjoys these petting sessions because he likes how receptive Mio is to him, Mio makes a lot of little noises and leans into Raphael’s touch. Also he has something to occupy himself that isn’t too distracting from his reading/work. Mio essentially functions as a fidget toy for Raphael. Also, petting your pet is just nice!!

Occasionally, Raphael will take Mio to parties or meetings. He likes to dress him up for these events, which Mio also enjoys. It’s a way for Raphael to show off his wealth and style, Mio is essentially an accessory in these moments. Raphael will also sometimes ask Mio to do things just to amuse himself or others, to show how obedient his pet is.

___

Ok I ended up writing a lot more than I intended and I didn't even get to talk about Haarlep and Mio's relationship with sex yet!! Guess that'll have to wait for another post. If anyone has questions or wants to talk about Mio or Raphael, my ask is always open :)