#waitress base

[prolibytherium]

PSYCH!

(deetress bog moment for @its-always-ziney-in-philadelphia Valentines zine)

[anotherwellkeptsecret]

To a Stranger: Prologue & 1-5

This comic is based on a true story--about how a lonely waitress by day and artist by night crosses paths with the man who stood up for her when they were children.

This comic does not have a set update schedule. I will draw pages as time allows. Please enjoy!

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

I don’t think we acknowledge how much what someone’s favorite of a trio (especially a musical trio) says about them

[illusorysinger]

reposting this from twitter since i never put it here apparently. i drew it for the initial bunny outfit events but there's yet another bunny cafe event so here it is again, with original caption:

"POV you heard the Lords of Hell were wearing bunny ears at the club, and find out that tryhard human exchange student in your class is there too

+bonus post-shift snapshot

(THEY/THEM)"

[jeffthegriller]

toy chica!! yay!!

[dolls-self-ships]

a little glimpse into Charity’s life before heaven

(tag list 💕 @menshusband @shiny-self-shipping @sunflawyer @westiefromtheeast @bat-anon)

[anonymocha]

Another concept for a SLARPG OC! Behold (2)! Cinnamon Sunrise! I am well aware of the MLP-esque name, it is completely intentional. She is Moxie MiWadi’s girlfriend, and sometimes her uh car. 🚗

Cinnamon is a saloon manager at Mumford. Well… Uhh… Calling it a saloon would be an understatement. It’s actually a 10-feet-tall cutboard cutout of a saloon front with a square hole in the middle of it food-truck-style. Behind the cutout is no other than a magical vending machine and a simple pop-up kitchen. She’s the only employee there. Business is slow due to the saloon being set up in Mumford. Her only customers would be passing adventurers and no other than her girlfriend, Moxie MiWadi. They can’t properly digest her food and drinks, though.

On occasions, she would close shop and stock up on food ingredients, venturing beyond the Celestial Wastelands with her pardner.

EDIT: I colored her :3 Original sketch before edit here!

[lacunafiction]

I have been playing this exact scenario in my head since the motorcycle appeared. Say the W does offer a ride. Cautious MC refuses to get on the bike without a helmet. Does W already have a spare? Would they get one if MC insisted? Or will MC be walking? Inquiring minds need to know.

Hi Anon,

I like how this has been on your mind since the W's motorcycle first appeared in Book One; you're thinking ahead! They would be very pleased. 😏 (This relates to this ask: here in case you missed it!)

Allow me to sate your curiosity:

Before the MC could even voice some hesitation or a staunch refusal to sit on the bike without proper protective gear, the W presents them with a helmet. (Oh, look it's even the MC's favorite color?? Wow.) So, yes, they're aware of your needs, possibly even your limits, and are willing to adapt to them, because riding their motorcycle and being that close to them already implies a degree of care from the W.

They would sooner walk by your side than let you walk away from them.

Best wishes! 💚

[cultivating-wildflowers]

☁️

[purgatorypicnic]

The most dangerous game Smiling Friends AU

Completely normal about this show :3

Charlie- Rainsford

Pim- Whitney

Oscar- General Zaroff

That Spamtopian Waitress- Ivan

[thegrimreaperisanerd]

@acapricorncreature wtf how'd you unlock BIG emojis... Anyway:

A dockworker reads the paper on the bar, and an old man seems to be growing barnacles in the corner, but besides that the only movement comes from a grumpy-looking waitress.

[dhampiravidi]

🍳 our muses are having breakfast at a local food place (Caleb and Pogue @in--noctem, sorry for the anon I'm on the wrong blog xD)

Caleb probably wouldn't've agreed to skip school with Pogue if the night before hadn't left them both feeling so drained and upset. Mr. Parry had had yet another tantrum, smacking his son around while his wife cooked dinner (only stopping to tell them to get out of "her space" in the kitchen). As usual, Pogue teleported straight to the Danvers, glad that his parents didn't do any magic. Because it'd been years since Caleb had realized what Pogue's parents were truly like, he had a plan in place. He set his best friend up with a decent dinner, then called the police (who were familiar with the situation) so that they wouldn't think Pogue had been kidnapped. It always took a while longer than he would've liked to get Pogue to bed. There were bruises and cuts to be treated, and even then, Pogue was far from being OK (not that he was expected to be). On days like those, he had multiple nightmares, so the Danvers had learned to have him sleep in Caleb's room. The boys always ended up under the same sheets together, arms wrapped protectively around each other--but Caleb knew to untangle himself before Pogue woke up and freaked out.

They went out of town to avoid any suspicious adult eyes. Pogue, who had bought a motorcycle as soon as he'd turned 16 (he only waited that long because he knew he had to pass the tests before driving it) apparently found a diner on some day when he'd gone out of town instead of to the Danvers, post-dad tantrum. So, he drove the two of them there. Caleb knew that Pogue probably would've been more physically comfortable using one of their cars, but he didn't want his own mom worrying about them--even if she might not leave her room til the afternoon.

Caleb liked the place as soon as he saw it. The outside was plain, but it was perfectly clean, with bright paint and absolutely no dirt on any of the paneling. "It doesn't look like much, I know...food's not as good as yours, but it's a nice spot," Pogue said quietly, putting his gloves away for the moment. He was surprised to feel a gentle-yet-firm hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see one of those smiles that made him feel guilty and giddy at the same time.

"Thanks, man." Thanks for bringing me, for letting me come with you this time. Thanks for the compliment--even though you're always silently moaning when I cook us something.

"Yeah." Pogue started off for the front doors, Caleb only a step behind. There was music from the 70s and 80s playing, not enough to be anything but a quiet soundtrack. About half of the place was full, which was interesting for a restaurant's weekday. Pogue sat down in a booth not far from the bar, and Caleb sat across from him. It was all of 5 seconds before a waitress in a pink-striped uniform rolled up, beaming.

"Kiddo! How are ya!?" she cried, beckoning for Pogue to hug her. He did, a sheepish grin on his face as she kissed his cheek.

"Hey, Donna. Donna, this...uh, this is Caleb." He sat back down, and suddenly he couldn't look his friend in the eye. But Donna certainly could. She grinned mischievously.

"Caleb Danvers. Oh yeah, we've heard about you. What are ya in the mood for? Pogue always gets a stack a' cinnamon pancakes, but he says you make the best French toast--"

"Donna--"

"I'm just sayin'. Here, I'll get ya' a menu. Don't worry about what's for breakfast and f' lunch--Jimmy doesn't mind makin' both." Over the next hour or so, Caleb learned that Donna was taking classes to become a dentist's assistant, and she had a little boy named Ricky who thought Pogue was a god because he'd let him sit on his bike once. He also learned that Donna could read people's minds (not literally, he hoped), Pogue came to the diner about once a month (even if his parents weren't being horrible), and that Pogue had told Donna (plus the other two waitresses who knew him) all about Ipswich, minus the magic part.

Both boys left Donna and the rest of that shift a hefty tip--after all, they were the heirs to family fortunes--and took milkshakes and fries to-go. They went to Boston to explore, then had a picnic on the outskirts of Ipswich. Caleb had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't a date, that he was just keeping Pogue company while the other guy took a day.

He liked to think that they'd had enough fun to forget the night before, at least for a little while.

[1997berserk]

I both go to waffle house often enough and wear the shotgun collar hoodie often enough that the waitress went "I been meaning to ask, have you seen all the saw movies" I was like yyyyyeah. yeah I have

[britneyshakespeare]

several months ago i was out late having dinner w my friends and everyone decided on olive garden, which is a restaurant i don’t like. i don’t particularly like italian food to begin w and olive garden is ridiculously expensive for a fuckin chain restaurant. last time i ordered a proper meal there i just had fettucine alfredo and it was like $16.50 and they would’ve charged me like 2 or 3 extra bucks just to add BROCCOLI. at restaurants that aren’t even italian but happen to offer alfredo pasta it often just gives you broccoli for the sake of it but NO. i was SO mad the last time i ate my last proper meal at olive garden that i vowed i’d never eat there again. $16.50 for broccoli-less pasta that had been thrown in the microwave with wet generic alfredo sauce on it, nah. plus tip. no. i told myself i’m just never eating there again, i HATE that place.

but then i lost the vote but still wanted to go out w my friends and i knew i wouldn’t get home till like, after 11 o’clock at night and i was not gonna make myself a proper dinner so i may as well eat something. and i had recently thought of this much better strategy: just order a dessert instead of an entree. i thought of this first when i went out to a restaurant that’s kinda es’pensive, and where i really just wanted to try to dessert and a proper entree probably would’ve filled me to the point where i wouldn’t be able to eat a dessert before going home. life hack by the way: you don’t have to order dinner at a restaurant. if you just want a dessert they will give it to you.

so anyway i was at olive garden back in like february and im like uggghhhh. fine. i’m not leaving this place on an empty stomach. i told the waitress i will have......... a piece of strawberry cream cake. and a glass of chardonnay.

and that is the most “i’ve been good” ass meal i think i’ve ever ordered. the waitress giggled at me.

my sister last week was hanging out w two of the friends i was w when i ordered my i’ve been good ass meal and apparently they still talk about it.

[satansappendix]

Okay I want to rant about something I saw that made me mad. I saw this on instagram reels while endlessly scrolling. I blurred this person's face because they aren't super important to the story. They feel for the propaganda. That is the important bit.

Essentially they were talking about how they went out to brunch with their friends recently and this was the bill.

They were specifically concerned with the last charge. A three point five percent "staff benefits" charge. They asked their waitress what it was for and she said so they (the employees) can get health insurance.

This person framed the video as something else wrong with America. How they had to pay out of their weekly check for health insurance from their employer, then pay the doctors when they go see them , then pay again to pick up prescriptions from the doctors. But they were mad at this $10 charge because they were 'paying for the waitress's insurance'.

First off that is not true, this charge is likely for premiums the restaurant pays the insurance provider for insuring their employees. Not the employees weekly or monthly costs of keeping that insurance. Even if this charge was in theory paying for the employees' health insurance, so they got it completely free, it still doesn't matter.

This is weaponizing the theoretical divide between minimum wage workers (more likely sub minimum wage) and the middle class.

Instead of this just being a 3.5% increase across the board of prices in the restaurant or the restaurant just cutting its profit margins a little bit. It is applied to the receipt this way to weaponize the anger of the customer against the worker instead of the boss. If all the prices increased, it would just be "inflation" or boss being greedy. But putting it on this way manufactures anger at the worker. It causes the middle class to see the 'benefits' of others increasing and instead of questioning why they can't also have those benefits, it directs their anger at the further oppressed. Saying how they should not be entitled to those benefits, instead they should be asking their bosses why they don't have them.

This is all manufactured. The charge is manufactured, so the bosses don't lose 3.5% of their profit margin. The anger is manufactured based on the false claim the employees receive free health insurance instead of the middle class. The blame is manufactured so it rests upon the oppressed for demanding anything more.

This is the thing people mean when they talk about the weaponization of the oppressed against the oppressed.

[skrytch]

"You see that Superman fella in the news last night? Don't you think he looks a bit like Clark?"

The waitress stopped pouring the speaker's coffee and glared at him. "The Kent's boy? Have you lost your mind. You paid attention to the interview you'd know He says he's a space Alien."

"yeah yeah from some where called Crumpet or somethin'. But still you know as well as I do that the boy is... Special ."

She resisted the urge to break the pot over his fool head instead putting back very carefully back in it burner before turning to face the man again slamming her palms in the counter in front of him.

"First of all you best mind your tongue if you want pie to go with your coffee instead of a swift kick in the ass." She took a breath to calm her nerves. "Secondly while there's No doubt He's strong as all get out and runs faster than anything. He may even be, oh what's the word Anderson Cooper used on 60 minutes the other night... Meta! That's the word! Short for metahuman if'n I remember right. Not that any business but the Kent's and maybe their physician.

Clark has been part of this community since he was an infant. I baby sat when his parents needed to have a night to themselves. Hell you went to school with him up til you dropped out.

He's a Smallville native same as you an' me. And that's that!" She walked over to the pie cubby and pulled out a slice of rhubarb. "Clark an alien of all the ridiculous..."

"But his face looks exactly the same"

She sighed and put the pie back. "You damn fool. You that boy is clumsy as shit without his glasses on. You see glasses on that man's face?."

"well no but I just..."

"You just? You just lost yourself a pie. You wanna rethink yourself before you go further?"

"I'm just saying..."

"NO! I'm just saying it's time for you to leave 'for I get disagreeable."

The man stood up from the counter. "All right. All right. I'm leaving." As he turned to leave he said " you gotta admit though they doo look an awful lot alike"

She rolled her eyes. "This from the idjit that thought Jon Cryer was Lex Luther once just cuz they're both bald."

The man made a disgruntled grunt as he walked out the door.

She turned the TV on while she prepared for the lunch rush when lo and behold there he was. The Superman himself. Apparently he'd foiled a hold up at a bodega while purchasing some food for the cat head just rescued. The waitress squinted at the TV and smiled.

"well I guess Martha and Jonathan did raise you right after all. Good on you Clark ,as the kids say. Good on you."

Starting to think a cooler headcanon for Clark’s upbringing might just be that the entire town of Smallville collectively decided to just go with it and accept that Martha and John's kid has superpowers, but we don't talk about it.

Someone's tractor gets stuck and nothing can get it out? "Be a dear and run down to the Kents, would you? Ask for Clark?"

"Why Clark, we need a machine--"

"Run along now."

Or if he kicks too hard and the football vanishes into the upper stratosphere, no it didn't, we all collectively saw it land over there *vague hand movements*