#when i work in the produce cooler sometimes i leave my gloves off so my hands go numb

[geraskier]

hi newt :3 hope you're having an okay day today. i know you post about having joint pain in ur hands and i was curious what helps you alleviate it? my partner has what we think is early onset arthritis and we're trying to find some stuff that might help him <3

disclaimers: i don't have (diagnosed) arthritis in my hands (yet), and i am not a medical professional, and all of what i say should be taken with a grain of salt. effectiveness of different suggestions is also gonna vary based on the exact cause of your partner's arthritis (past traumatic/repetitive stress injury, inflammatory disease, etc.)

anyway!

somewhere in my room is a tube of extra strength aspercreme that i bought on sale, i found that to be super helpful. there's other nsaid based creams that you apply topically; they kick in faster than you would think which is neat. be careful with dosing on that tho, especially if your partner is simultaneously taking nsaids orally (e.g. advil).

i'm sure some people would recommend icing the areas in pain, but that's not practical for hands ime. do they make cold packs in the shape of a glove?

weed is good for pain, but it is a psychoactive controlled substance, so it's not gonna be viable for everybody.

if your partner can figure out a gentle regime of hand stretches, that might alleviate some pain in the long run by strengthening hand muscles. i was *supposed* to do this after my sagittal band repair surgery, but i fell off the wagon pretty quick.

ooh! one thing the OT people did for me during that surgery recovery was gently massage warmed lotion into my hand. super relaxing on multiple fronts.

it's possible wrist or hand braces might help, but wearing them long term could weaken hand muscles that aren't being used. (in this case PT exercises would be an even better idea.) personally i've accepted that compromise, bc without having the wrist braces on 80% of the time i'm conscious, i can barely use my hands.

[simplyotometrash]

Levi, Asmo, and Belphie w/ an MC who has chronic anemia

This is a self-indulgent thing with my favs because I have chronic anemia due to iron malabsorbtion. Enjoy!

Levi:

Tits on christ, why are you always cold?

Levi is cold-blooded by nature but you take the cake!

When you're snuggling all he can feel are those ice cubes you call hands and feet.

So, of course, he asks you why you feel like you're made of ice.

You explain to him that your body doesn't absorb iron properly. Your body in turn doesn't produce enough hemoglobin to carry oxygen to your body's tissue. And as an anemic, you also lack the normal amount of red blood cells.

You're always cold, it's just one of your symptoms.

Your anemia is worse than some other people's, you explain, and it's actually very common in humans.

You do your best with supplements and eating iron-rich foods, as well as vitamin C rich foods to aid in the absorption of iron, but nothing really helps much.

Because your body doesn't absorb iron properly, your attempts at fighting anemia and iron deficiency aren't very effective.

Levi doesn't really get it, honestly, but it reminds him of a human-world anime he saw about blood cells.

Even though he prefers cooler temperatures, he begins keeping his room warmer just for you.

He blushes and gives you fluffy socks. He's excited when you were the Ruri-chan socks he bought!

He might not be the warmest to snuggle with, but he does his best to keep you warm and to do what he can to make sure you get your proper nutrients.

Which is a lot coming from a hermit who barely leaves his room and eats lots of junk food.

He wishes there was just some magical cure to fix it, but he knows that even magic and potions have their limitations. Things can't just magically be solved all the time.

But there are potions, he found out, that can help your body with absorbing nutrients.

He had to forgo buying a limited edition figurine just to save back the money for the potion, but he bought it because he wanted to help his Henry however he can!

Asmo:

It's your paled complexion that first tips him off that something isn't quite right.

Sure, pale skin is normal and fine, but your kind of pale seems sickly. As if you're a corpse.

And he noticed how brittle your nails are and how cold you feel when he was giving you a manicure.

He knew something was up.

So he just outright asked you if you were sick.

He listed off the things he had noticed and was shocked when you laughed about it.

You explained your condition and the side effects it caused as a result.

You had been anemic for a long time, so you had gotten used to all of the symptoms that set off his red flags.

He didn't like the sound of his darling one being ill, even if they were used to it.

Your health is of the utmost importance to him! He wants you happy and healthy!

So he takes to questioning Solomon about it all. Things he can do, what you need, any magic that might help.

Asmo will spare no expense.

He even finds a potion to soak your nails in so they become stronger!

He buys you cute gloves all the time and always has a pair with him for you if you need them.

He invests in a special subscription service provided by some witches he knows that can get him items from the human world. Items high in iron and vitamin C!

Alas, there is only so much one can do to help with your anemia and iron malabsorption, as he found out, but he will always do what he can to help.

Even if it means making sure you drink your supplement (since you hate taking it in pill form).

He knows they taste bad but he rewards you for doing so well! Anything you want as a reward, you will have!

Belphie:

Like his serpentine brother, it's your icy hands and feet that first set him off to something being wrong.

You cuddle A LOT. He knows how frigid you feel 24/7.

He elected to ignore it because he thought that perhaps it was normal for you. Like it was for Levi.

But being the Avatar of Sloth, he noticed how tired you were. All the time. You slept probably almost as much as he did. Which wasn't good for humans.

You were tired even after a great night's sleep.

Trust me, he ensured you slept soundly through the night as a test to see how you were the next day.

You were tired and easily irritated. Even he wasn't as fatigued as you were all the time.

So he asked you what the fuck was wrong with you. Were you sick? Were you angry at someone?

But he didn't expect you to laugh and pat his head.

It only served to make him an even crankier cow.

But you explained that you were anemic and your body didn't properly absorb iron. You told him everything you knew about it.

And that the things that he was concerned about were symptoms you experienced.

Sometimes not even good rest could make you feel less tired.

And he understood.

He's very studious, even though he's lazy. So he set to work on looking into what he could do for you.

Honestly? He couldn't help but wonder if this was even a fraction of how Lilith felt when her human became ill.

While he didn't show it, he was worried about you.

He ensured you got everything you needed to combat your anemia.

And he invested in the best socks for your ice cube feet so he didn't have to feel those popsicles you called toes.

He got a heated blanket as well, much to your dismay, because he was already a living heater once he got settled in.

Belphie just told you to shut up and deal with it. It came from a place of love.

Just take your meds and supplements. He won't hesitate to make you if he has to.

[liliesoftherain]

Ground Zero reads Thirst Tweets

A/N: Hey guys, this is a collab with @pinky-the-elephant-room​ !! This is the first part, and the second part can be found here! Her part is NSFW so since i’m a SFW blog we thought it would be best to split the parts! So here’s my contribution! 

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

You walked inside the studio, thanking the heavens that it was cooler than it was outside. Greeting the producers of the setup, you gladly made your way by the set to see two stools placed side-by-side in front of a blue backdrop. 

“Hello, Seize-san! Thank you so much for coming in today, I am Hana and I’m here to help you through this!” You grinned at the young woman who walked up to you. She was short stature and plump figure and gave off the impression of a warm and welcoming personality. Instantly putting you at ease.

“Thank you so much for having me! It’s an honor to be showcased here, along with another hero! You guys are truly kind to grant the opportunity to work alongside you, and please, call me (l/n).”

She nodded enthusiastically, grinning at the praise from such a top hero as yourself. 

“Thank you again, (l/n)-san, come let’s get you ready for the camera! Are you in need of anything to drink, anything to snack on?”

“No ma’am, I am fine! I’m just ready for the shoot!”

“As is your partner!”

You both shared a laugh, both knowing the person you were recording with today was the opposite of ready for this.

“Oh, I’m sure that is the case, ma’am, where is he by the way?”

“He’s right behind you, stupid.”

You turned to see the annoyed blonde behind you, being escorted to the seating area close to where you were being led.

“Ah Ground Zero, good to see you haven’t blown anything up yet.”

“Shove off, hurry up so we can get this over with.”

You laughed, waving him off as the members looked on with concern.

“Don’t be rude, Bakugou! I’ll be there with you soon enough; all you have to do is be good and wait for me.” You winked, eyeing him up and down before turning back around, allowing Hana to guide you off towards your station to get ready. 

The makeup artists just refreshed your makeup and made you ready for the video. You came out of the dressing room, dressed in your usual hero costume but looking less like you’ve been running through the streets of Tokyo. Bakugou was in usual costume but without his hand gauntlet. 

 “Okay you two, we’d like to thank you for taking the time to come on set and do this showing. These tweets are real, and we just want your genuine reaction from them! We’ll try to limit the cuts to be able to ensure that real response, and don’t be afraid to let loose! These are Thirst Tweets for a reason!”

You laughed along with everyone else, except Bakugou who looked a little annoyed by the entire thing. You gave him a slight shove with your shoulders, biting your lip subtly as his gaze locked onto yours. 

“Cheer up already, this is supposed to be fun. What, do you not want to be here with me?” 

“That’s not--Shut up, shitty woman. Just get ready.�� he huffed, glancing away from your stare as he mumbled back.

“Okay, starting in 3, 2…,” The cameraman pointed instead of saying one, signaling the tape was now rolling. You beamed at the camera, working your charm as you gave a little wave.

“Hi, guys! I’m, (l/n) (y/n), or better yet, Seize!”

“And I’m Bakugou Katsuki, Ground Zero.”

“And today we’re reading…,” you trailed off, looking expectantly at your partner.

“Thirst Tweets.”

“You could be a little more enthusiastic you know.”

“Oi, shut it!”

You giggle, looking deviously at the camera before swiping his mug-shaped container.

“Oi, what are you-”

“Let’s see what people are saying about our dear Ground Zero, hm? That’s alright with everyone else, right?”

The crew joyfully agreed at the twist, and with their approval, you shoved your container in Katsuki’s chest.

“All right, let’s see,” You snorted, slapping Bakugou’s shoulder as you read the first tweet, “‘I would love to be able to rip that Hero suit right off of Ground Zero and rub my face along those God-like abs. Can a man be any hotter!? Have you seen his moobs!? *dROOLING*”

“Ha!?” Bakugou looked at the tweet with narrowed eyes before looking back at the camera, “Do you know how expensive this hero suit is!? You ain't ripping shit! Plus, what the hell are moobs?”

“Oh Bakugou, half of the world's population would love to rip that suit off, myself included. Plus, those are your man boobs, and they are absolutely correct, you have the best titties I have ever seen!” You winked at the camera while throwing the paper over your shoulder, “NEXT!”

You gave your bucket a good shake, making eye contact with the confused blonde who was still stuck on your last comment.

“‘Y’all don’t understand what I would do just to have @GroundZero to choke me with a gloved hand. Or do anything to me really. He could hit me with his car, repeated use his quirk on me, give me paper cuts all over my body and throw me into a pool of lemon juice, and I’d beg for some more like yes zaddy **** my ***** up!,’ OH MY GOD.” You used one hand to hold your mouth in amusement, putting the bucket between your thighs so you could show the tweet with your now free hand. 

“You have some pretty kinky fans, Bakugou,” you teased, waving the paper in his face as he grabbed your wrist to hold it steady, staring in disbelief.

“You all are disgusting, why in the fuck would anyone do that to you? Let alone me, who the hell do you think I am!?”

“I mean, you can’t judge, can you?” 

He snaps his head to look at you, a heated glare on his face.

“The hell, of course, I can judge! These people want me to torture them, sick bastards.”

You laughed as Bakugou sucked in a sharp breath between clenched cheeks, you were thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. 

“NEXT!” You shouted, crumbling the paper and tossing it at Bakugou.

“How many of these are there?” He sighed, looking in your bucket in his hands and shaking it around.

“With the way you look there are bound to be a ton.”

“What-”

“‘If I were only able to take just Ground Zero’s jaw out on a date, I’d never be happier’ Oh that one isn’t so bad-”

“My jaw? What the hell-” He looked over your shoulder, reading the tweet.

You looked up and stared at the blessed jawline.

“That’s what it says, but I gotta disagree,” You grabbed his arm and squeezed it while smirking deviously into the camera, “These arms are better, I’d take these bad boys out for coffee over his jaw any day.”

Instead of shaking you off, you swore you felt Bakugou flex slightly under your hold and couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that overtook your face as you stared up at him through your eyelashes.

“Are you flexing, Ground Zero?”

“HAH!? NO WAY, READ THE NEXT DAMN TWEET AND GET OFF OF ME ALREADY.” He snatched his arm from your hold as you waved him off, grabbing the last tweet from the container.

“Aw guess there weren’t as many as I thought, we’re already reaching the end-”

“Good because I’m tired of these wackjobs.”

You scanned over the paper, unable to contain yourself as you busted out laughing. You knew Bakugou was glaring at you, but you couldn’t help it, you almost fell off your chair, having to once again grab his arm for support.

“This, I just- Oh my God, Bakugou you’re-HA!”

“Can you knock it off and read it before I blow your ass up!” He hissed at you, and you knew you shouldn’t have made the situation any worse than it was- but sometimes you can’t help yourself.

“Damn, I mean if you really wanna tap this ass Bakugou, how can I say no~?”

He growled lowly, glaring harshly at your face as you only winked in response. 

“Watch it, (l/n)-”

“‘Ive always been straight BUT i wish ground zero would rip me apart like he did to tht one moth villain, n after tht I have literally never questioned my sexuality so hard, I would let tht man bury his **** so far inside my *** tht i become the Queen of the f**king gays, all hail to me, GZ’s b**tch.Thts it. Thts the tweet.’ HAA.”

You felt Bakugou tense beside you, and when you looked over you saw him shaking in anger.

“Oh what, it’s charming!” You slowed your laughter down to measly chuckles, catching your breath as you were wiping tears from your eyes.

“How is that god damn charming!?” He seethed.

“You know, I can see it.”

“See what?”

“You being gay-”

“HA!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING.”

You look back to the camera and give an innocent shrug.

“He could've fooled me, I swear I saw him checking out Deku a few missions back-” A small explosion cut you off, and you rolled your eyes.

“So dramatic, it’s no big deal. I check out Deku all the time too.”

“You fucking what?”

“Oh yea, I mean I check out Shoto too but Deku’s got a cute ass. What can I say-”

“You’re fucking pathetic.” He huffed, snapping his gaze away from where you sat.

“Sorry, was I overstepping? I’ll leave your man alone!” You teased, poking his thigh as you did.

“Goddammit (l/n), I’m not fucking gay for Deku!” He swatted your hand away, scooting as far away as he could from you.

Which wasn’t very far, seeing as he made no effort to move the stools away from each other.

“So you’re gay for-”

“NOBODY!”

“Okay okay!! Just read my tweets already, I know they’re getting antsy watching us just talk about your closeted sexuality!”

“...tch.” 

You could practically see a vein popping out of his neck, and even though you were sure he was picturing murdering you in his mind, you couldn’t help but think of how sexy it was.

You watched as he unenthusiastically pulled out a piece of paper, bored eyes scanning till they narrowed.

“You’re fucking fans are worse than mine.”

“What! Read it, I wanna hear!”

“Do I have to-”

You cut him off with a sharp look of your own, wearing him down until he sighed and did as he was supposed to. 

“‘I would pay any amount of money, or literally give up any organ-appendix, spleen, gallbladder, lungs, my damn heart, just so Seize can spit on my face and call me a worthless, good-for-nothing loser, then kick my body and walk away. It would be my honor and my greatest life accomplishment.’” He threw the paper in front of him as if it were burning his skin, once again staring at the camera in disgust.

“Wow,” You giggled, “I don’t even know how to respond. I don’t really think that’s worse than yours Bakugou, but thanks I guess?” 

“Thanks!? That’s all you’re going to say? How about I kick your ass and call you a worthless shithead myself, would that turn on all you perverts watching this, ha!?” 

You smacked his arm playfully as you tried to get him to calm down, but his heavy breathing was an indication he wasn’t having it.

“I’m sure it would-,” His head whipped to face you and you clicked your tongue at his behavior.

“Oh, c’mon don’t be a prude, these are juicy and I for one wanna keep hearing them! So, hurry up and read another one before you blow a gasket.”

“Whatever, this is fucking stupid.”

“Alright stupid, just keep going.”

He side-eyed you, grinding his teeth together in what you assumed was to hold back even more vulgar insults.

“‘Don’t kink shame me..’” Bakugou paused, a long sigh coming from him as he reluctantly continued, “...’Don’t kink shame me but it’s my goal in life to die by @Seizes thighs. Her thighs are so strong but soft looking and I swear they can crush me in an instant-’”

“Ohh that’s true. These can crush anyone.” You slapped your thighs for emphasis, a cheeky grin playing on your lips.

“Are you seriously proud of that?” He deadpanned at your joyful expression.

“Uh, yeah? What, a woman can’t be proud of her thunder thighs of steel! You're just jealous you’re not being crushed by these babies.”

“Why the fuck would I be jealous!?” 

“Cause I have amazing thighs that any man would love to be in between-”

“Next fucking tweet,” Bakugou cut you off, “‘I will eat Seize ass with a spoon, be havin’ that as breakfast, lunch, and dinner n never get tired.’ Okay but seriously what the hell is wrong with you people? With a damn spoon?”

“It’s flattering almost, don’t you think? I would be their favorite meal that they never get tired of,” You look to the camera and wiggle your eyebrows, “I mean I don’t know if I’m down for that, but if you wanna snack sometime, link up with my manager-”

“Absolutely not, don’t give these perverts any more fucking ideas.”

“Okay, dad.”

“Quit being a damn brat and just accept that these are weird and not cute, for fucks sake!”

You look to the crew behind the camera, bowing your head a bit as you spoke.

“Sorry, you’re going to have a lot of bleeps because of this big lug.”

“DON’T IGNORE ME-”

“Read the next tweet,” you extend your words in a whiny voice, “I wanna hear what else people think about me!”

You watched as Bakugou clenched his hand before relaxing, reaching inside to pull out another folded paper.

“‘@Seize is the best ever. Strong and compassionate, honestly my favorite hero by far. She’s giving the other pros a run for their money, good job and keep it up!’. Tch at least we’re done with the weird ass shit. ”

“AWHHH, you guys are so sweet! I don’t know how I match up to other heroes-”

“Tch, she matches up just fine-”

“Well, if we’re talking about boobs, especially if you compare mine to yours, I don’t stand a chance!” You reached a hand over while your body was still facing the front and squeezed one of his pectorals. 

“YOU HAD TO TURN THIS INTO SOMETHING FUCKING STUPID, DIDN’T YOU!?” He jerked away from you; eye twitching as he took ragged breaths.

“What, just stating the truth. Now, c’mon if we had the same number of tweets then this should be my last, why do I have to drag these out of you?”

“Shut the hell up,” He picked out the last piece of paper as he tossed the bucket on the ground, ignoring the way you complained about it. “‘Got damn,’ Holy hell I’m going to lose brain cells, ‘Got damn, Id suck a fart’...’suck a fart out of Seize’s ass and woul beg for more as she suffocates me, no cap. Lick her from those ankles to those thighs n back, I bet she tastes like one of those sour n sweet skittles wid the way she sweaty from beating others asses but good from the way she hot, and dat shit be the best shit u can taste. wont even say sorry, jus flip her over and eat that ass’...’#NomNomNom’”

“Wow, some of you guys are pretty creative. I mean, I can’t tell you what I taste like but if you wanna try it out, lemme know.” You giggled, winking at the camera as you made the ‘call me’ sign with your hands. 

You were waiting for another blow up from the angry blonde beside you but were surprised to see him silent. He was clenching his jaw harder this time around, eyes narrowed in fuming slits and he shook slightly by how hard his body tensed. You were about to ask if he was okay when you got the signal to end it, so you ignored it for the moment as you gave a bright smile to the camera.

“Well, that seems to be the end of this little segment, boo!,” You gave a pout, before smiling again, jumping back up and tossing an arm around your cast-mate, “Thanks for having us on today, and to end on a serious note make sure you’re staying safe out there. We all care about every single one of you, that’s why we do stuff like this, to stay connected! Have fun, be safe, and remember, be heroes! This has been Seize, along with,”

“Ground Zero.”

“Bye!”

“Cut!”

As soon as it was over, you were thrown off Bakugo’s shoulders as he stood up abruptly. You looked over in worry as he rigidly walked off and you wondered what had went wrong.

During most heavy-duty operations, which are the only type of operations you both worked together, Bakugou was always silent and calculating. He angered easily, and the time to fear him most is becomes quiet. Making a villain piss his pants with his yelling was a skill indeed, but when a villain saw that angered and dark gaze, that’s when they should be terrified. 

You tried to follow him, but you were immediately swarmed by your manager who had apologized for arriving late.

“Yes, it is alright! I understand I was able to start perfectly fine, it’s no trouble at all.”

You didn’t listen to his answer, scanning the crowd to realize you had lost the pro.

“Dammit.”

“Ne, (l/n)-sama is there something wrong?” 

“No,” You shook your head with a sigh, “Nothing at all.”

-----------------------------

[taking-over-his-life]

The old shop

Written by my old friend Colt.

On a bright autumn day, when the low angle of the sun, the sudden warmth of Indian summer, and the riot of scarlet and yellow leaves all cast a spell over the Virginia countryside, I set off for a drive, with the car windows rolled down. Intense glare alternated with deep shadow, as the road wound through fields and woods. It led to a town called Hapsburg, where it became Main Street, nearly deserted on Saturday afternoon. I parked along the sidewalk, and got out to stretch my legs.

The buildings were of red brick or painted clapboard, one or two stories. Shop windows were empty, or contained faded posters, long out of date. I walked past a café, a drugstore, a lawyer's office, and a barbershop, all closed. Next came a shop that sold old furniture, chipped plates, sentimental pictures, obsolete farm tools—the debris of former households, past lives.

In the display window, draped over the back of a chair, as though the wearer left it there minutes ago, and would soon reclaim it, was a black leather jacket. Creased and scuffed, it had evidently seen hard use. So casually was it thrown on the wooden chair—was it also for sale? I tried the latch, and the ancient shop door opened. A bell jingled sharply overhead, as I stepped inside.

A pale, thin man seated behind a counter barely looked up from his newspaper. His eyes were watery blue or gray, and his hair was sparse, showing the scalp. I pretended to look at a dusty shelf of books, then wandered to the back of the shop, which seemed to have nothing of value. At last, I returned to the front. Except for the man at the counter, there was no one else.

The black leather jacket was compelling. I touched a sleeve—the leather was thick and heavy. I searched for a tag, a price, a label, but found nothing. On the shoulder, a red patch bore the legend: "Hapsburg Motor Patrol." "Go ahead," the man said. His voice was unexpectedly clear and strong, despite his age. "Try it on. You'll be the first, since it just came in. Who knows, this may be your lucky day."

I slipped my arms into the sleeves, shrugged the weight of the leather over my back, and tried the zipper, which worked smoothly.

"A perfect fit," the man said, "like it was custom-made for you. There's a mirror, if you don't believe me."

It was uncanny, but the old leather jacket did fit perfectly. Stiff yet pliable, it was already molded to my shape, broken in by the previous owner.

"Whoever wore it must have had exactly the same upper body size," the man said.

"So you don't know who owned it?" I asked. "Anything about him?"

"Not a clue."

"What about the patches? Will I be arrested for impersonating a police officer?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. The town police department disbanded years ago, when the county took over everything—schools, taxes, roads, jail. The county police wear a different uniform, not that red patch. As it stands now, that jacket is a collector's item, a genuine Hapsburg Motor Patrol issue. Quality leather—they don't make them like that any more. The badge is missing, of course. It went in that reinforced hole in the chest."

The leather creaked, as I flexed my arms and walked to and fro. I inhabited the jacket, inhaled the smell of leather, and felt slightly giddy.

"There's plenty of wear left in that jacket. It will keep you warm on the road, and protect you in case of a spill. When you're riding, that is. Yes, sir, it fits you like a glove."

"How much do you want for it?" I asked, trying not to sound desperate.

"That depends on how much you want it," he answered, suddenly shrewd. His pale eyes glittered in the shadowy interior.

Though I detest haggling, I was unable to take off the jacket. I named a price, a round number, which I hoped was low. To my surprise, the man instantly agreed.

"Sold!" he shouted, as though at an auction.

I reached for my wallet, anxious to complete the transaction before he changed his mind, or before I did.

"Like I said, that leather jacket was meant for you. What are the odds that someone would walk in here, exactly the right build, with an eye for police memorabilia?"

"So you don't know where it came from?"

"Sorry, my friend. It could have been someone cleaning out an attic, getting a house ready for sale, winding up an estate. Wait! Now that you mention it, some other things came in with the jacket. Here's a helmet, the standard police type."

He handed me a white helmet, and I lowered it over my head. Snug, but comfortable. I started to ask the price, but he cut in.

"At no additional cost—special today. And check out these beauties." He rummaged behind the counter, and produced a pair of black leather riding boots.

"Somewhat the worse for wear, but you can replace the heels, and shine them up like new. Here, try them on."

Hurriedly, I untied my shoes, and shoved my feet into the tall boots, folding my pants inside the cylindrical shaft. Amazingly, the boots fit. I wiggled my toes, rocked from side to side, and strode a few paces. Like the jacket, the boots felt eerily right, as though I had worn them for years. Looking in the mirror, I caught my breath.

Instead of the man who entered the shop, an ordinary citizen like millions of others, I saw a police officer, a motorcycle cop, a figure of speed and power, a member of an elite squad, albeit from decades before. The fantasy was exhilarating.

"Do you want a bag?"

Abruptly, I remembered where I was, in a dusty junk shop, in a forgotten country town. I took off the helmet.

"No bag, thanks. I'll wear it."

"What about your shoes?"

"Oh. . . yes."

I handed the man my shoes, which he dropped into a crumpled paper bag. He handed the bag back to me, with a wink of his gray eye.

Jacketed and booted, as though dressed for a costume ball, I exited the shop, and blinked in the dazzling sunlight. The air was growing cooler, and the sun would soon set. With the helmet under one leather sleeve, and clutching the paper bag, I strode to my car for the drive home, through the inflamed countryside.

In the following weeks, as the weather turned cold and windy, I sometimes wore the leather jacket. As promised, the thick, back skin kept me warm. It did not attract attention, other than a smile or nod of approval. The thrill I felt on first putting it on mellowed, and in a way, I grew into the jacket.

One day, it occurred to me to search the pockets. An inner zipper revealed a small black and white photograph of a man standing beside a motorcycle. He appeared to wear the same jacket and boots, with the same white helmet on his head. He also wore a police badge, a silver star on his chest. His posture was upright and confident. The photograph bore no identification, no name or date. It was impossible to tell the man's age, or where the photograph was taken. Still, I was convinced that this was the officer who owned the items I had bought.

His uniform included a pair of riding breeches, tailored snug at the calf and flared at the thigh, almost as though inflated. It was a picturesque style, something that went out of fashion long ago. I could not recall ever seeing such a uniform on the street. In color, the riding breeches were dark, with areas of sheen. Were they made of black leather, too? I placed the photograph in a dresser drawer.

Though out of sight, the image haunted me. Who was this man, in purely physical aspects so much like me? What were his tastes, his habits, his personality? What was the police officer's story?

With no conscious intention, I began to read classified ads for used motorcycles, and I looked more closely at those I passed in the street. I wondered what type of motorcycle my officer rode. What type would a small-town police department be likely to have? When a neighbor parked a motorcycle in his front yard, a machine much like the one in the photograph, with a "For Sale" sign attached to the seat, I did not hesitate.

The neighbor, an engineer who would soon move to another city to start a new job, taught me how to ride the motorcycle, and he gave me advice on maintenance and repair. My luck continued in the form of a mild winter, which allowed me to ride on weekends, gradually learning how to handle the motorcycle on narrow roads, and in traffic. Though not especially powerful, it was quick and responsive. I wore my leather jacket, boots and helmet, of course, and sturdy jeans. By spring, I had become a confident, if careful, motorcyclist.

One Saturday, as the trees were coming into leaf, and the air was newly fragrant, I set off to ride through the green landscape. I started with no destination, but the road became familiar, as it wound through fields and woods. Just as it did six months before, it led to Hapsburg. Slowly, I cruised Main Street, looking for the old shop where I had bought the leather jacket, the same one I was wearing. Not seeing it, I turned around, and rolled in the opposite direction, but still failed to find the dusty display window. I parked, pulled off my helmet, and stood in the middle of the street, baffled.

A place I did not remember, a combination art gallery and custom frame shop, hinted at economic revival. Clean, freshly painted, with a gleaming steel and glass door, it was open for business. I entered, and at once was greeted by a young man with black hair, dark brown eyes, and an eager smile. After browsing the drawings and paintings, all by local artists, I explained what I was looking for.

The young man grew solemn, and said he would be right back. He walked briskly to a storage room in back, and returned with a large envelope, which he handed to me. Scrawled on the envelope, as a kind of address, was the phrase:

"For the man in the leather jacket, when he returns."

I studied the envelope for a moment, then asked:

"How can you be sure that this is for me?"

"The junk shop you describe was here, this space. I cleaned it out, renovated, put in new lights, and so on. A lot of work, you can imagine. The previous tenant passed away, I was told, and he left the shop as you saw it. I never met him—a retired police officer. Nothing of the contents was worth saving, but I did save one thing. That envelope was lying on the counter."

I lifted the flap, and extracted something heavy and pliable, made of black leather.

"Looks like a pair of pants," said the young man, clearly interested.

"Yes," I said, "or riding breeches. I saw them in a photograph."

"Awesome! They match your jacket and boots. Want to try them on?"

"I don't need to. They're exactly my size. Don't ask how I know."

"Okay, I won't. Strange things happen, even in Hapsburg. But here's the really strange part. They told me that the old man passed away more than a year ago. So how could you have met him here last fall?"

I shrugged my shoulders, and the leather jacket creaked. I slid the breeches back in the envelope, and tucked it under my thick black sleeve.

"Thanks," I said, turning to leave. "And good luck with the shop."

[soniabigcheese]

Interview with ....

Havoc - sorta

I must be insane by doing this. But taking a leaf out of @willow-salix book, I thought I'd try this technique and see how it works out.

Let's start with Havoc, since she's on my mind with my latest story.

Just an informal chat, that's all.

M= me

H= Havoc

Well d'uh, that's self explanatory.

********

We meet on board the Chaos Cruiser, Fuse has vanished out of sight so that leaves the two of us together. It is very distracting with all the bright lights flashing, but hey I managed to snag Havoc.

Who at this moment in time, has pulled her gloves off and is working at the computer. My guess is that she's uploading or upgrading her virus dat ...

H: hey, pass me a can of pop will ya?

M: slightly stunned at her sudden interruption .... er ... okay?

Since I don't know where they keep stuff, I'm floundering around trying to figure out which compartment.

She points to the floor ... more so the box that I'm sitting on ... rolling her eyes and probably grinding her teeth in exasperation.

H: they're in there ... dumbass

I figured that this is her favourite word for everything. At least it's a huge improvement on the string of expletives that would roll off her tongue. Some so crude and explicit that they'd make a sailor blush.

Anyways, I'm drifting away here. Back to the 'interview'.

I was surprised that she actually agreed to do this.

I heard fingers snapping

H: hey ... dumbass ....

M: uh .. what?

H: my can of pop?

Oh .. right.

I slide off the box ... it's an old fashioned cooler with a standard snap lock. Duct taped into a recess. Opened the lid and saw a selection of high sugary drinks. Not sure which one she liked, I grabbed one for her and closed the lid.

H: not having one for yourself?

I shrug and fish around in my bag for a bottle of water.

H: your loss

She opens the can with a hiss and chugs down half of her drink in one go, wipes her mouth with her sleeve and belches loudly.

H: so ... you wanted to interview me huh? Where's your pen and paper?

She leans forward and glares purposefully at me. It's very unnerving, being this close ... and stuck inside what's basically a souped up metal box.

M: Uh ... yeah 

I take another nervous sip of my bottle and I produce a small gadget, not unlike a mobile phone. She snatches it out of my hand.

H: Gimme that M: hey!

I watch helplessly as she thoroughly inspects it, firstly with open suspicion, then with derision and a snigger. She throws it back, I had to drop my water in order to catch it, spilling liquid all over myself in the process. I glower at her, she shrugs before finishing off her pop and crushing the can before tossing it into a nearby container, labelled ... Recycling.

H: Gotta save the planet y’know

I must have had some sort of expression on my face because she followed it up by a rather aggravated....

H: What? M: Oh, nothing, just surprised me, that’s all.

A snort

H: what? That the world’s worst baddies .... don’t do any recycling?

She froze, remembering what she said, was going to back track and defend herself and her brother, but waved a dismissive hand as if it wasn’t worth the effort. She leaned forward, elbow on knee and pointed at my ‘gadget’.

H: that’s what you’re using? M: Uh yeah H: why?

I shrug, fiddling with the controls.

M: Guess it’s something I’ve always used. Mainly to gather my thoughts together when writing. Sometimes I like to listen back to my interviews and reflect on the funnier things they used to get up to.

H: Huh, seems a waste of time to me ... another can of pop? If you don’t mind? Getting thirsty hanging around waiting for you to get on with the interview.

I’ve already relocated a little further away, but still close enough to open the lid  .. again. This time, I bring out two cans and fling them at her. She catches them effortlessly with an appraising nod and a grin.

H: Ta M: Welcome

A hiss and great gulps as she chugs down at least half of one can, drown out the music playing low in the background. I can just about recognise some of it. 

M: Europop?

Once again, her defenses go up, she stops drinking to glare at me, ignoring the fact that the orange fizzy liquid is now dribbling down her chin.

H: Yeah? What about it?

I open my mouth to say that it’s a song I actually liked, but was interrupted by her leaping up and jabbing a finger in my face.

H: You’re one of those reporters ... aren’t you? Take anything we say and do and twist it around just to get a bit of juicy gossip.

Just then, Fuse happened to arrive. I find myself switching between a bristling Havoc who was ready to punch my lights out. (I was really regretting actually taking this interview on) and Fuse, arms full of junk food and looking rather perplexed and confused.

F: Uh ... sis? What the...? H: She’s leaving ... aren’t you?

I shrug, relieved that at least I’m leaving without a single scratch, gathered my few bits and pieces ... and bolted for the exit, barely squeezing past the bulky figure of Fuse.

He held out a bar of chocolate.

F: Want one? I got plenty H: FUSE!! F: What ...? It’s true ... I've got more than enough.

I don’t know how that conversation went, because I was getting the hell out of there. With the vow to never interview her again.

What I did get ... she was hot headed, suspicious, liked high sugary drinks and Europop music. 

And didn’t like to share.

Maybe I should catch up with Fuse the next time. At least he’ll happily spill everything... with the right motivation

Interview over

[jimlingss]

The Deli Diaries [6]

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 [Finale]

➜ Words: 1.8k

➜ Genres: Fluff & Cuteness, That good ol’ slow burn, Slice of Life

➜ Summary: Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

➜ Warnings: Mundane-ness that might make you bored to death

➜ Notes: i swear the story is moving...just...very slowly.

Your job sucks.   But it’s starting to suck less, especially when the microwave reads 2:00pm.   Right on the mark, you come strolling to the other side of the deli where your kind manager is putting away some of the orders that arrived a few minutes ago. “Hey, Serri. Is it okay if I go on my lunch break now?”   The old lady frowns in concern. “You haven’t eaten lunch yet? Yes, yes! Go right ahead.”   “I’ll be back in half-an-hour then, in time to package the chicken.” You’re ripping off your gloves and she nods, urging you to not worry about it and to go eat and refuel yourself. On the way to grabbing your bag, you wash your hands and rip off your hairnet, adjusting your black cap in the tiny mirror above the sink, trying your best to clean yourself up.   You nabbed a hat from your insane supervisor, having requested she order one for a few weeks now. The constant reminders annoyed her but it’s the only reason you have it now. For one, it’s completely free so why not. And secondly, you could hide your greasy hair and actually tame it from the long day of work. Plus, in this way, you can look less horrible for a certain someone.   “Hey, produce boy.” You run into that certain someone on the way to the staff room and he has his own bag slung on his shoulder. His brunette hair is ruffled, red apron clean, black shirt and pants appearing like it’s been ironed.   “Hey, deli girl.” Jimin smiles, still amused with the little nickname you gave him.   “Are you going for lunch?” You push the backdoor open for him and he says ‘thank you’ as he enters.   Mischief twinkles in his eye and he downcasts his head trying to hide the way the corners of his lips are upright. But Jimin can’t help himself and he steals another glimpse of you. “I am.”   “What a coincidence.”   Or more like the two of you have been syncing up your breaks every other day now.   The job was actually pretty nice now that you had a friend to share your meals with. It’s not like you could hang out with Yuna in the breakroom considering only one person at a time was allowed to leave the deli area. Plus, you found Jimin’s company surprisingly nicer than your phone or any youtube video you could scrape up using the shitty wifi connection.   “What are the odds?” He laughs and then opens the door to the room for you. This time, you’re the one saying ‘thank you’ as you enter and he follows behind.   “I know, right?” You giggle and then move to pop open the microwave, throwing the stolen chicken-pot pie into it and hitting a minute to heat it up. In the meanwhile, Jimin pulls out two chairs and begins setting up, putting a few napkins down on the table not to make a mess and taking out his sandwich that he always cuts into two nowadays.   Luckily, there’s no one else in the staff room, only one person who exits the washroom and beelines out, down the stairs, returning back to their job before time runs out.   As the microwave whirrs, you move towards the wall of postings, scanning each of them and looking for your center’s number. “Are you thinking of switching?” Jimin asks in curiosity, moving to stand beside you. “Bakery? Or are you gonna transfer to another store?”   “Psh.” You move away when you can’t find anything of interest. “Why would I leave this store when it’s literally a ten minute walk from my house? If I had to take the bus, I swear I’d be late and fired on the first day.”   He laughs and the microwave dings, causing you to open it and grab two plastic spoons from the dispenser. “Plus, I don’t think bakery is hiring for another two years,” you mumble as an afterthought. “Unless someone dies, they’re not gonna train anyone here. Those ladies have been working there for a loooooong time.”   “I guess you and deli are gonna be together till death do you part,” he teases while taking a seat and you take yours adjacent to him. You grumble at the thought of the deli being in your foreseeing future and he smiles, cracking open his water bottle to take a sip.   “Oh. I actually have something.” Your eyes light up when you remember and you dig into your bag, pulling out a ziplock. “It’s honey ham.”   “Again?” Jimin laughs, grabbing a piece to eat. “I thought you hated hams.”   “Yeah...but I cut too much for a customer earlier, so I took it with me.”   “Aren’t you going to get fired?” He questions while you pick up the half of his sandwich and take a huge bite of it. In turn, he grabs the spoon and begins to eat the chicken pot pie that you took.   “Maybe.” You shrug, not really caring if you get fired. At the moment, you’re more preoccupied with enjoying this food, unable to stop taking massive bites of Jimin’s sandwich. “Y’know, I’m not a big fan of sandwiches but this is pretty good. Did you make it yourself?”   “Yeah.” Jimin smiles, a bit bashful over the compliment. “It’s not that hard. I just have to toast the bread for a minute and spread a teaspoon of butter. I also spread some mayo on the other slice and I cut a tomato, put in a bit of baloney and sometimes egg. There’s some cheese and lettuce, pickles too….”   He admits, he might’ve upped his sandwich game ever since you started sharing a half with him.   “God, that’s already ten steps too much for me.” You steal another bite, appreciating the flavour more and more. “But how do you get it so it isn’t melted and squished in your bag.”   “Oh, I put it in the produce cooler when I get here.”   “Dude…..you’re awesome.” You flash a huge thumbs up, wholly impressed with how seriously he takes your lunches together. “I like how you think ahead. Meanwhile, I’ve had the same pot pie for four days now. I’m so sick of it.”   Jimin takes another scoop of the pie. “Why do you keep getting it then?”   “Well, you like it, don’t you?”   You say it nonchalantly but it hits Jimin and he tries to repress a smile, though failing to do so. “It’s not bad, but I’m really fine with anything.”   “You’re too nice, produce boy.”   He really doubts that, especially when he’s sitting next to you. But he doesn’t say anything about it. “How was work so far? Any cute kids? Any rude customers?” He takes another bite and swallows it down. “Any grease you want me to help pour out?”   You grin. “None yet….of any of that. But you might need to help me pour out some grease later. I call holding the door.”   “Deal.”   Really, it’s a deal that sucks on his end. Yet, Jimin insists he can pour the whole bucket of the icky liquid into the dumpster every time your shifts overlap. You don’t understand why he offers so much help to you.   Maybe he’s just an extremely nice guy.   “How about you?” You motion your head over to him. “Any people asking you grocery questions?”   “Yes.” He giggles and you can’t help but smile. “Many. At this point, I think I’m better at navigating the grocery section than some of the grocery people. Did you know rice pudding is next to the butter section? Who knew.”   You laugh with him, amused with all the times people ask him where things are and he has to navigate them through the grocery aisles that he doesn’t even know himself. Earlier you caught a senior citizen grasping at his arm instead of her walker, trying to find some almond powder. He flashed you one look and that’s all it took for you to start giggling while the customer in front of you thought you were absolutely insane.   “What time are you off?” You ask, dusting your hands off after finishing the sandwich and some of the pot pie.   “Six. You?”   “Six too. We can walk home together,” you note while standing, heading over to the fridge and freezer to take a peek. “Hey, want some ice cream?”   “What?” He looks at your mischievous expression when you turn around. “Sure. But does that belong to anyone?”   “No name.” You smirk to yourself, glancing at the front of the open box where there’s an absence of black marker labelling ‘do not eat’. “No name means a free for all. What flavour?”   “Any.”   You grab two at random, shutting the freezer door before tossing it to him. Jimin catches it one hand like a pro, putting on a smug expression when it was really due to luck and reflexes. You plop down in your seat again, peeling the wrapper open and discarding it.   Jimin watches as you eat and he backs up. “Wait. Hold on. You bite your ice-cream?”   “And you don’t?” You twist up your face as if you’re offended that he does something different.   “No, you monster.” His tongue pokes out, rubbing all over his cold treat which makes you scrunch your nose up in distaste. “It hurts my teeth too much.”   “It’s gross to lick it.”   “It’s weird to bite it,” the produce boy counters and you scoff. “What flavour do you have?”   “Vanilla. You?”   “Chocolate.” Jimin’s brow eyes light up in curiosity and his pupils flicker over to the treat in your hand. You can read him like an open book, already knowing what he wants before he asks. “Can I try?”

“Don’t lick it,” you respond immediately like it’s a reflex. But instead of placating you, the boy grins, his eyes crinkling into half moons, plump lips spreading into his chubby cheeks. He takes your hand, curling his fingers over yours and he pulls it closer to him, moving your entire body towards his direction. “Don’t! Jimin! Actually!”   But like the little shit that he is, his tongue rakes up the entire side of your ice-cream. He licks it with a laugh and pulls away. “It’s good.”   You narrow your eyes at him before leaning over faster than he can react. You bite the top half of his ice-cream off completely, and he cries out as fifty percent of his treat is devoured. You laugh evilly before screaming. Your brain freezes, aching painfully and it makes him hysterical.   Jimin folds in half, wheezing, as he watches you clutch your head in your other palm, gasping for air and yelling about how cold it is. Still, it was worth getting your revenge.

[lycanthrotea]

“ugh Sorry again for this I’d like to be spending the rest of the night with you but my work schedule is not something I have much control of.”

“It’s all right! I know how work is, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah but hanging out with people is so better than working. “

Videl slumped onto the bed, reluctant to leave for work until who knows how early in the morning. at the very least it made Odd chuckle in amusement.

Anyways”, He began to stand , and fix up his shirt ,“ I told Liana not to bother you I don’t think she would but just in case. You know, I would prefer if you were just a little bit nicer to her but considering your condition I’ll let it slide for now”

“Sorry.. “

Videl Stepped over to Odd’s bedside and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it chief I’m not angry. But yeah it’ll be tomorrow before you know it so try and get some rest all right?”

After saying goodbye he grabbed the bag from The bed frame and headed out. Although he would’ve preferred staying home, he didnt hate his part time job. Getting there though was a bit of Pain considering he lived in a quieter wooded area right outside the city And the fact he wasnt Very nocturnal but

Videl walked for about 10 minutes before he reached The edge of the neighborhood. The soft lights coming from the houses were no more But he had the moons to illuminate the way. He walked a little further to reach the carriage stop by the road. It wasn’t the most used stop considering it mainly Served the residents of the More upscale neighborhood so it cost bit more but that Really meant nothing if you live there. Videl took out A few coins from his pocket and inserted them Into the pole by the stop, Causing a faint light to glow From its lamp and Triggering the mechanism that would call his ride. He put his bag on the bench and proceeded to sit down and wait taking in the night air. Not something he often did As this was routine, But the air Was starting to become cooler as autumn Turned into winter. He was more than ready for that weather as It is most invigorating for him, Even if the amount consumed was pretty negligible he always liked not having to waste any magic keeping himself cool, also he had a new coat he wanted to show off. Oh And warm winter dates, lots of snuggling, extremely important. The thought made his heart flutter.

The sound of gallops over the stone road Could be heard from a distance, Videl Threw his bag over his shoulder and began to stand as A large Varic demon drawing A carriage drew near. He was quite familiar with her by now and Uttered a “hey” As she grabbed the key on her neck and held it towards the pole Get the money he had put in earlier and take her pay. Videl Brought out a little bit more As a tip.

“Eisthel Street, But if it’s too busy just drop me off in the Market stop As usual.”

He hopped into the carriage and the driver began running once more. He rested his eyes, Mainly to Continue indulging in the fantasies of good cuddles and kisses and dates. Akua technically is visiting every day to check on Odd, And they have been Taking advantage of whenever he is resting his room home for a little more quality time. But it’s nice?? And what else was he going to do in the next 20 minutes?

When he got to his destination which was fortunately was the one closer to his job. He thanked the driver and after watching her leave went through the back alleys, Making sure not to be seen. When he got to the door he made sure to do the special knock, three times a pause two times a pause and then four times. He heard his boss give him The all clear, and he produced a key to unlock and enter.

“I’m assuming you’re early for the coffee huh?”

“ yeah got up a little bit early today.”

Videl entered the back room kitchen, there were bottles everywhere today, Specifically dirty ones. He put his bag on a chair and unzipped it to start changing into his uniform, just the dress for now. A long black Fitted a line dress does that ends right below the knees. Long sleeves of course, just the traditional work garb, Made of fabric thats pretty good for working with less safe substances. there is a still a fair amount of coffee left in the coffee maker so he took whatever was left and mixed it with some milk and sugar began to chill it in his hand.

“ How’s the kid?” Asked Von. Attriche from the other room.

“Oh He’s been all right. Better than A few days ago but still pretty febrile. He seems pretty anxious sometimes but I can’t do much about it since he doesn’t wanna talk. Kind of why I would’ve liked staying at home but.”

“ I need someone to clean all those jars.”

“I noticed .” he said with a sigh. He washed his cup as soon as he finished drinking put on his gloves and began one by one cleaning each jar. And he had to make sure to do a good job too, any residue could be disastrous mixed with the wrong substances. It took him 30 minutes to finish. Listening carefully in case anyone might enter the shop. no one did, it is getting late after all but emergencies happen, a stressed out parents might Burst in desperately hoping they carry the right medicine already bottled and ready to be sold. Happened last week, startled them enough that they almost messed up the brew he was concocting. Once finished he checked the board for tonight‘s work. Unsurprisingly frost bane is highest priority. Winters become extremely coldAt times and a city like this has many traveling in and out. It’s can be exhausting for the user to consume too much too often but it’s always good to have a flask on the coldest of days. Having magic affinity towards ice meant that Videl is the more adept at infusing the mixture than other demon, so he wasn’t surprised to be tasked with making them. Aphrodisiacs, always in demand, and poisons for outdoor pests before harvest season end. After he Noted the days work he put on his mask and hood, secured it tightly and entered the shop.

Outside it only says apothecary just a shop that people who know go to not that it doesn’t get a fair amount of customers it’s right at the edge of the market place after all. Most of the shop is just the work place, A lot of leaves, animal remains and potion bases in jars all over the wall. The tall counter that divides the work area from the tiny customer area hides the long work desk where are most of the ingredient preparation is done, chopping crushing, measuring, extracting certain parts of it And so on. Gives a place a weird scent, that changes day by day depending on what’s being produced. Most of the work area floor is covered in cauldrons, whether They are small ones on tables, or the very large one for concocting large batches usually for base mixture. Special attention needed not to overheat or let them boil over get them on yourself especially when you are monitoring multiple. Keeping track of which cauldron needs which ingredients or what type of magic infused how fast it should be mixed what it should look like.

It’s a lot of work so late (as is tradition) that required much training, but Videl as much as he would not admit it enjoys it, especially since he can do so without anyone recognizing him. AlSo wearing a very nice black dress fashions important on physically and mentally exhausting jobs.

He grabbed a few jars set them By a medium sized cauldron and went to work.

[ohahahahaha]

Voltron Grocery Store AU/Headcanons

*based on my own experiences*

-Allura and Coran co-own the store (it’s a family business)

-Shiro is the store manager

-Pidge is over produce

-Hunk works in the deli with all the cakes

-Keith and Lance are cashiers (like I was)

-Lance is the cashier that does really well (can interact with the customers, flirt with them semi-professionally and resolve issues), but he often wanders off.

     -”Hiya Pidgeon!” “Lance, what are you doing here, it’s not even your break and FOR FUCKS SAKE STOP EATING THE GRAPES!”

     -Hunk, whispering horrified, “Lance, please tell me you didn’t leave Keith by himself.”

     -He did.

-”Sir, your total is going to be $54.69.” *customer hands Keith a $100, who checks to make sure its not a counterfeit*

     -”It should be good, I just printed it off this morning!’

    -Keith, with death in his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek, “Haha. Haven't heard that one before.”

     -”I’m gonna need two things: a bag of ice, and your number.” Keith, monotone, “Sir, I can promise you one of those things is going to happen. And the total for the ice is going to be $2.56.”

-Keith is also know for stealing all the box cutters and hoarding them all in his apron pockets.

     -”Excuse me! I would like a refund for this! Your store is terrible and so is your attitude! Let me speak to your manager!” *Keith pulls a box cutter out of his pocket* “KeITH NO!!”

-Nobody knows how Pidge is able to work there. And everyone is too scared to ask (it’s actually Matt who applied for the job initially; but one time Pidge covered for his shift and the rest is history).

-Shiro is trying his best to keep the store from burning to the ground.

     -It’s rumored that he got that white streak in his hair from the stress.

     -He is often the closing manager (Coran takes mornings).

    -Has been caught pulling cereal off the shelf, and eating it by the handful.

-Hunk’s cakes are legendary, he’s the Picasso of cakes.

     -He often sneaks pastries to Keith in order to keep his anger at bay.

     -It works sometimes.

     -”Lance, stop eating the cupcakes, and GIVE ME BACK THAT ICING!”

     -He’s probably the busiest because he’s always booked for birthdays.

     -He genuinely likes working here???

-The workers are supposed to pay for every cup of coffee they get.

     -Spoiler: they don’t. 

     -Hunk switches Pidge’s coffee to decaf.

     -Lance often brings Keith his coffee because apparently (in Keith’s words), he’s the only one who can fix it right (and totally not because their fingers brush against each other’s).

-There’s a betting pool on when they’ll get together.

     -Coran has the most money put in.

-One time, Keith locked Lance into one of the coolers because he wouldn't shut up about how he was “cooler than him.”

-When a grocery truck comes, it’s an absolute horror.

     -Lance was racing Keith to see who could unload it the quickest, and knocked over a whole display case. Keith just ran from the scene.

     -There’s footage on the security cameras of Lance riding on one of the trolleys as Keith pushes it, recreating the scene from Titanic.

     -Pidge once dared Lance to hide in the back of the truck until the driver rode off.

     -He did.

     - *Lance pops up from the back of the truck ”Oh hi there!” “JesUS CHRIST!!”

     -The truck nearly crashed.

-Keith helped Pidge in produce once.

     -He would try to stuff his pocket with one of the knifes.

     -Just kept cutting fruit, even the grapes.

     -He kept cutting off the fingers on the latex gloves.

     -”.....get out of my fucking department.” Shiro, over the intercom “Language, Pidge.”

-Lance somehow manages to dance to every single song that comes on. Classical? Yep. Elevator music? No problem. Dogs barking Jingle Bells? His hips don’t lie.

-Keith often goes over the intercom and whispers his distaste for the customers, mostly profanities.

     -He hasn't been caught yet.

-Keith fucking flies when he bags groceries.

     -When questioned, his only response was “Gotta go fast.”

-May continues this, but who knows! I have a TON of stories about working in retail and all that jazz. I still have nightmares.

[blogalittlebitofthis]

Are you trying to seduce me?

Almost 2.5K words of Overhaul failing at flirting, with Overhaul. 

“I will need time in the lab everyone make sure Chrono has all of your reports for Eri so he can pass them off to me.” Chisaki starts before everyone Present in the room goes on full alert and ready for battle as a warp gate opens in their base.

There was a pause everyone going over any information they had seen from any footage they had seen from their newest additions to the cleansers. This was the betrayal they were expecting from the alliance all along, but it was Jin who spoke up first.

“What the fresh hell?”

Okay- so it wasn’t an attack that all members knew about. Or an attack at all as Kurogiri steps out looking like he had seen better days before collapsing on the floor his quirk just barely managing to not close on him as he fell to the floor.

“Nobody go near him.” Chisaki warns stepping ahead of the crowd, “Deidoro use your quirk make sure he can’t use his.”

“Never miss a time to take a shot.” Deidoro replies smiling as he grabs a bib flask and chugs. Toga takes a step back feeling his quirk and knows not to say anything at this moment that would cause conflict, “Alright boss! Good to go.”

Chisaki was the first to approach but Black Mist was out cold on the ground. His suit rising and falling softly as he breathed, Chisaki knelt down close his gloves were off and ready to destroy him if this was a trap of any sort then he heard it. He wasn’t entirely sure so he cocked his head and leaned in closer, snoring. Faint, soft, breathy, snoring.

“Take him to the guest room.” Chisaki says standing, “Make sure you hand reports to Chrono but I have something new to attend to.”

------------------------------------------

Kurogiri awoke almost half a day later and the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Overhaul just as Shigaraki described dozing in the chair in the room. He starts to move and was surprised to find he wasn’t restricted in any way, he lifts and lowers his arm. Still felt like he was more lead than Mist but shakes his head and starts to push up.

His vision swims and he feels himself almost swoon again. He fights the urge to blackout but must have made noise because he sees Overhaul looking at him.

“Pleasure to meet you Kurogiri.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well, Overhaul. May I inquire as to what happened?”

“You showed up at our base with your quirk and then immediately passed out. So there are some answers we both need.”

Kurogiri puts a hand to his head, it was throbbing and he felt nauseous. Chisaki watches his movements and he could feel himself burn under the gaze, “I must have lost track of time and-“

His words fade out as Chisaki shakes his head sympathetically.  

“I think we have been in situations similar. You spend days and nights working, through the point of delirium and through exhaustion expecting to find that next breakthrough, or next accomplish in sight.”

“Those words do ring true...”

He leaves the name out, he tries to see a reaction but a mask covering half of his face did make it difficult but he learnt to read Shigaraki. This could be done.

Kinship, someone who shares a passion for what they do, their drives similar yet they work for almost opposite sides of the same board.

“Overhaul.”

Still professional. Yes he should be what was he thinking.

“Do you need anything?” Chisaki finds himself asking, what was he doing dozing off with one of the most valued and powerful members of the villain alliance. He had thought of the thousand and one reasons Kurogiri might have worked to the point of exhaustion but from the casual response he was either lying or used to it.

It was admirable.

“Just a moment.” Kurogiri says, he didn’t want to overstay any h spoken welcome or to be matched into a deal without Tomura knowing, but the look that passed through those amber eyes.

Crestfallen.

“I do have to get back to my tasks. There is no rest for the wicked.”

“Then we sleep when we die.” Chisaki muses, “There is a small shop not far from here that serves us wicked folk with ease and I don’t think Shigaraki knows about it. If you ever need a break you can often find others there.”

“Do you frequent the establishment?”

“I can.”

Both nod and Chisaki watches Kurogiri swing his legs over the side of the bed his back to him, was that intentional or an accident? A show of strength or trust?

Chisaki tells himself to snap out of this and follows suit standing, “I repaired your clothes, you came in like you had seen better days. Don’t make that mistake again, or you will disappoint Shigaraki who fought so vehemently to keep you.”

A warp gate opens after a second and Chisaki moves closer as he sees Kurogiri sway on his feet but he tightens himself and looks over himself, “I usually have some free time in the hours when no one should be awake, and I know you do too. But if that place you spoke of is not open, may I return here?”

“Yes.”

------------------------------------------

Chisaki was staring at the wall where Kurogiri had left for a few minutes, still trying to process what was said in their minute long exchange. He was correct in hearing what he heard, did he invite himself out on a somewhat date. More importantly he invited someone here with an extremely powerful quirk to come and go freely in his base as some semblance if a date.

He stands up and walks to the door grabbing the handle and slowly leaves the room, “Hey Chisaki?”

Chronostaisis was waiting outside of the door, had he heard?

“Where is Black Mist.”

“He has a warping quirk. He is anywhere he wants to be, I should go and work in those lab reports and with Eri later.” Chisaki says briskly walking away. He did have other things to do, things he was behind on anyways.

He saw the quality improvement on his work, if anyone made a comment on how his penmanship I proved it would result in expulsion from his office. He found the day went by pleasantly quickly for once, he was waiting for the end of the day. He kept working after Cronostasis told him that mostly everyone was retiring for the night and that he should as well.

“Don’t worry yourself about me.”

“Sir it’s my job.”

“To worry?”

“To make sure you are safe.”

He was safe, Chronostasis was the only one who could come close to matching his power but he goes back to his work. He looks at all that he got done for the day and found it was about the same.

He double checks he didn’t know how it was but then his movements were lagged from- not from sleep, not from overworking. Was it from-? Kugogiri? Had he been thinking of him all day? No. He was professional, and a single person was not going to change it.

That was why he kept checking the clock to see if it was a time when everyone else had gone to bed. It was creeping closer and closer and he was finding that his work was coming in less and less. He runs his hand through his hair and regrets the action. He was seen in this state? He shakes his head deciding a shower would do him nicely.

He turns the shower water warm and steps in after letting it get to the right temperature, he would often go for the cooler showers to wake him up allowing to continue working but today had been strange as a whole so he lets it go. To take care of himself because he didn’t need to be dotted on like some child by his subordinates even if they had good intentions. He towels off after throughly rinsing and cleaning himself.

His pace was quicker tonight he slows down in front of his lab, he should work but he could make an ally instead. One as powerful as Kurogiri could change the entire game. He walks past the labs the cleanser on duty by Eri’s door straightens a bit more just as he turned the corner.

“It’s a bit late to be practicing on her Sir. Sir?”

Chisaki stops and looks back over his shoulder, “I have other matters to attend to. We can’t always work ourselves down to the bone.”

He didn’t wait for further comment, there shouldn’t be any further comment. Running his hand over his face he realizes what they might have been speaking about. He wasn’t wearing his mask at all, not even the simple one.

Chisaki stops right in front of the door. What was he doing? Closing his eyes and pressing his head against the door he hears the faint sound of the warping quirk from two days ago at this point. That gives him the confidence to push open the door, a different suit, he looked better to say the least.

“Was your day productive?” Chisaki asks not daring to show what he felt.

There was a slight incline but Kirogiri still had his back to him, “It was better considering I haven’t slept like that is months.”

“Nothing soothes you to sleep?”

What was Chisaki saying? He was acting like some giddy child with the enemy! He should be asking why he so desperately wanted to return? Or why he would have the respect shown to him that he wasn’t being looked at!

“Wine sometimes helps.” Kurogiri produces two glasses from the gate without them clinking together he extends them to Chisaki, “Just have some fine tastes that is my problem.”

Chisaki was about to shake his head but his jaw hangs slightly behind his mask when he sees the bottle. Crusted in barnacles and with some bribe threatening to break its seal. He stared at the bottle as Kurogiri casually wiped off the label.

“The titanic?” Chisaki says, “You got a bottle from the titanic?”

“Is there a problem? If it’s the dirt I can clean it up for you.” Kurogiri gauged the reaction of Chisaki, he opened the bottle, “It will need to airrate a bit before we drink it. Overhaul”

Chisaki sees the open palm and hands the glasses back to him watching them twirl by their stems before being placed on the table. Two small warp gates open above each of the glasses and Kurogiri carefully pours the wine.

The sight was mesmerizing, the wine was caught falling forever until he let it splash into the glasses. He though that was amazing but when he saw that not a single drop had spilt.

“What else impresses you?” Kurogiri passes the glass over to Chisaki, a tendril of his mist ghosting around his hand, Chisaki nearly sword under his breath expecting some sort of contact but was met with nothing.

“I have to say it was a nice party trick Kurogiri, you must impress all who come to the alliance with that.” Chisaki smirks to the rim of his glass, despite being trapped underwater for a few decades it still was earthy. He had to take a sip, it was intense and full bodied, it left his mouth feeling dry but he wouldn’t complain, he was already in a dry spell.

“If the party tricks don’t do it then I can be normal and talk about movies.”

Chisaki raises an eyebrow at that, “Any favourite movies?”

“The graduate.”

“Really? That’s a dramatic comedy of a What love tr-s- what a pentagon? A five way love triangle?” Chisaki would have never guessed the man’s tastes, even with a hint it seemed impossible.

“May I ask you a question? What do you think of me?”

Kurogiri tasted his own wine and looked over at Chisaki just as Mrs. Robinson did trying to egg the man on. If he wanted to make fun of it then he had to know it first.

“What do you mean?”

Kurogiri saw the smile in the amber eyes he was playing along, “You have known of villains like me all your life, you must have formed some opinion of me.”

“Well I always thought you were a very powerful villain.”

“Did you know I was an alcoholic?”

To deal with Shigaraki that could lead anyone to drink Chisaki muses but he follows the script of the movie instead of making a private joke. He swallows his drink, “What?”

“Did you know that?”

“Look I think I should be going.” Chisaki starts to stand still cradling his glass but takes another playful sip.

“Sit down Chisaki.”

There was force there in the voice. A force that he should follow Despite something being a warning in the back of his mind.

“Kurogiri if you don’t mind me saying this conversation is getting a little strange. Now I’m sure Shigaraki will be wanting to collect you at-“

“No.” Kurogiri says calmly cutting off Chisaki.

There was the moment of confusion trying to catch what the other said, “What?”

“Shigaraki won’t want to collect me until the early hours of the morning. I should be free for several hours.”

“Oh my god.” Chisaki changed the tone of the act, he really wanted to listen to Kurogiri speak much more and moved closer.

“Pardon?”

“Oh no. Kurogiri, oh no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Kurogiri, you didn’t- you didn’t expect?”

“What?”

“I mean you didn’t really think I’d do something like that now did you?”

“Like what?”

“What do you think?”

“I don't know.”

“For gods sake, Kurogiri. Here we are, you got me into your house, you got me a drink, you put on music. You start opening up about your personal life to me, telling me you husband won’t be home for hours.”

“So?”

“Kurogiri you’re trying to seduce me.”

Kurogiri gives a breathy chuckle, “Yes.”

“Aren’t-“ it didn’t register with Chisaki for a moment what he had said. He stumbles thinking he had misheard, “Aren't you?”

“Well I had thought of it that way. The late night visit no one else knows about, the wine from some millionaires collection they won’t miss. How we talked earlier I did think I was trying to seduce you.”

Chisaki was stunned, and here he thought he was being straight forwards by not wearing his mask. He blinks a few times before shaking his head. This was moving very fast. He sucks his breath in trying to pace himself.

Or would rather Kurogiri pace himself, with the date and the wine. Though it didn’t seem like either was going to happen.

[ohmyneganimagination-twd-blog]

No regrets

Hello ! How are you today ? I hope you’re fine. Today was a rough day. I’m tired and a bit depressed so I'm posting just a fanfic that I made a long time ago. It’s based on episode 3 of season 7. It’s nothing incredible but I liked writing it so I hope you’ll love it !

Summary : “Negan had taken you and Daryl to the Sanctuary. You were now one of his wives and Daryl was locked up in a cell, being mentally tortured and malnourished. But Daryl made a mistake. And you decide not to stand there with your arms folded”.

Ships : Negan x reader

Words : 2367

Warnings : Curses, light smut

I tag : @heartfulloffandoms - @itsneganslucille - @smuttwd - @negans-network - @negans-dirty-girl - @autumnjade22 and @backseat-negan

(Here is the link for my masterlist !)

Enjoy !

***

You breathed hardly while watching the scene in front of you. Your body trembled fiercely, feeling the fear shake your heart and tension in the air. You swallow and clench your fists. “You see that ? I'm everywhere”, he said with a smile of his white teeth. “And it was your shot to prove to me that fundamental fact was sinking in, and you failed”, Negan added pointing to Daryl. Daryl was in danger. You knew it. And you had to get it out of this bad step. Daryl was your best friend and he had always been there for you in the worst moments of your life. Now it was your turn to help him. Besides, you had seen with your own eyes what Negan was capable of. And Sherry, one of the women of Negan and ex-wife of Dwight, had explained to you all the details of her little 'stay'. You hated her for what she had done to Daryl. But you could not ignore what she had told you. Something had to be done. Negan suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts. “Which sucks because your life was about to get so much cooler”. His smile widened after saying these words. Daryl said nothing, listening attentively to what his tyrant said to him. What else could he do ? Negan didn’t take his eyes off Daryl. “Am I right ?” “Damn right”, retorted Fat Joey with a smile that disgusted you. Your heart beat louder against your chest as Negan approached Daryl. Of course, Daryl was on his guard. One of the things that was most frightening about Negan was that he was unpredictable. One never knew in advance his next action and he was also whimsical, quickly changing his mood. You had to admit that you were happy not to be Daryl's place but you wanted to help him. You were not going to stand there doing nothing. Negan held the end of the bat sleeve with his hand as he stood next to Daryl. He began to play with him, tapping Lucille where his bare feet were. Once. Two times. And he stood up straight, mocking Daryl's reaction. He slowly turned on his heels and stopped for a moment to look at you, passing his tongue on his lips. His smile widened. “Your friend, my dearest wife, has assimilated this fundamental fact”. He had to press the words, which made Daryl grimace. You said nothing and you were content to support his intense gaze on you. He let out a laugh and gently approached you. “She does everything I ask her. She obeys me and knows who the boss is here”, he said stopping just in front of you. “Although I have some problems with her personality of fire and her dirty mouth”. He took your chin with his gloved hand to raise your face to him. He lowered his eyes to your lips before going up to your eyes where a glimmer of defiance shone.

“But I love women with a fucking big temperament. She's hot and I can tell you that sometimes it's fucking complicated for me not to fuck her”. He approached you with his words and put his lips on yours. You saw Daryl grit his teeth. Daryl was in love with you. You knew it for a long time. And you now regretted not having responded to his feelings. Negan knew it and played with it. He wanted to get rid of you and Daryl. Negan took the opportunity to embrace you for what seemed like an eternity, deepening the kiss and forcing the passage with his tongue in your mouth to lead a frantic dance with yours. In spite of your tenacity, you felt the excitement rising in you and you let out a groan. You took his coat jacket to pull it towards you, wanting to deepen even more the kiss. Negan smiled above you. He put his hands on your waist to stick you against his body, devouring your lips with animosity. You were like glued before Negan backed away, biting your lower lip and leaving you with a secret feeling of frustration. You were now panting and red, the saliva at the corner of your lips and feeling the electricity produced by this kiss undeniably incredible. You cursed your body for having been against you. It’s true, Negan was very charming and handsome. You couldn’t deny it. If you had met him before, you would probably have fallen under his spell. But that was different. You hated this man and yet you still felt the pleasure and the tension in his presence. You were ashamed to feel all of this with the man who had killed two of your friends once. Yes, it was humiliating and disgusting. His face was distorted by a smile, as usual. He put his tongue to his lips, as if he still felt your taste on his. "Thank you doll for this beautiful kiss that you offer me apparently with pleasure”. “Fuck you”, you spit directly into his face. “What did I tell you ?” A hot woman with a dirty mouth. All that I love !” He exclaimed a little too playfully. He put a rebellious wick behind your ear, savoring your expression filled with disgust. He smiled at you one last time before coming back to Daryl. As soon as his back was turned, you cleaned your mouth with your sleeve, still feeling the embarrassment and shame of having succumbed to it. And in spite of you,  you’re still feeling the sensations of this kiss. Daryl sent you a dark look, which you were pretending not to notice. “So where were we ? Oh yes !” He swung Lucille close to him. "Dwight gave you some options. I don’t think you get it yet. So I’m gonna break it down for you”, he said passing his hand over his salt and pepper beard. “You get three choices. One”, he said raising his forefinger, “you wind up on the spike and you work for me as a dead man. Two, you get out of your cell, you work for points but you’re gonna wish you were dead. Or three” ,he said finally, “you work for me, you get yourself a brand-new pair of shoes and you live like a king !” He exclaimed, weighing the last words. Daryl swallowed and quickly gave you a corner look before returning to Negan. “Choice seems pretty obvious. You should know, there’s no door number four. This is it”. He turned to you and his smile widened then. He put his tongue to his lips. “It’s the only way”, he murmured in his grave voice. A shudder ran through his insistent gaze. With your teeth clenched, you held on to not jump on him and murder him with your own hands. He played with your nerves. He wanted to put you through a single goal. And you knew very well which. Negan turned back to Daryl. He doesn’t say anything. Negan let out a laugh before starting to clasp his hands on the bat. All of a sudden, you felt a ball in your stomach. “Screw it” And without expecting it, Negan raised the bat towards Daryl and was about to shoot him down. “No !” You yelled running towards them. Negan suddenly stopped the wooden bat right in front of your friend's face, to your surprise. He seemed to be impressed by the coolness Daryl had kept. “Wow ! You don’t scare easy. I love that. On the other hand..” He turned softly toward you. “I didn’t like my wife fucking interposing. I could have spoiled her pretty face because she threw herself to save you”, Negan said to Daryl in an accusing tone, as if to make him feel guilty. “I'll have to explain the fucking rules again”. He gave you a dark look that made you shudder. He rested his eyes again on Daryl and raised his bat before him. “Anyway, this it kind of things that pisses Lucille off”. He directed the bat towards the Daryl with a threatening air. And you were trying, at best, not to interfere again. “She finds it to be disrespectful. And I think she's not wrong. Maybe I have to fix it”, Negan said putting Daryl Lucille's face up close. And without waiting for it, your body reacts to the second Lucille was close to Daryl's face. “Ok I’ll do it !” Negan stopped. He remained in the same position until he turned towards you, the joy already hovering over his face. You swallowed as he approached you. “What are you fucking saying ?” “Don’t do that. I mean, I listened to what you said but-” You stopped for a few seconds. “Please don’t do that. I’ll do whatever you ask me if it’s necessary”. Your lips trembled as much as your voice had trembled by saying these words. You repressed your tears as best as possible, trying to face the man in front of you. He remained silent, as if reflecting on what he had just heard. “Start again”. “Wh-What ?” You asked frowning without understanding. “I didn’t understand at all”. “Fuck you. You're kidding with me because you have understood very well. It's just that you’ve a fucking crazy wit”, you spat violently. Your tone had been dry, a little too dry given the look Negan gave you. “Repeat what you said”, he said in a suddenly threatening tone. You swallowed with difficulty turning your head on each side. You remembered Daryl. You bite your lower lip knowing that you would lose your dignity by knowing what you were going to say. “I.. I’ll do anything if you leave Daryl a second chance. So please don’t do that”. Negan's smile came back and he put a hand on your neck. “It's so exciting when you implore me like that”. His beard scratched against your skin as he approached your ear. You felt the warm air against your skin and the warmth emanating from his body. “So exciting that I feel my cock waking up”, whispered Negan. He nibbled at your earlobe. Your fucking body reacts directly, feeling the heat and excitement rising in you. Again. You were trembling with frustration and you almost saw his stupid smile on seeing the effect he was doing on you. And as that wasn’t enough, he took your hand to put it on his crotch, feeling the swelling sign that he was in ‘need’. You withdrew your hand directly with an ounce of disgust. The red rose to the cheeks, even more embarrassed and angry than before. Negan chuckled. He kissed your forehead before stepping back and coming back to Daryl. “Since (Y/N) asked, I decided to leave you a fucking second chance. I'm a regular man. I listen to my wife”. He bowed to you. You crossed your arms against your breast, enlarging his cursed smile. He had a problem or what ? Anyway, what bothers you the most was you and your fucking shit craze being impulsive. And Negan knew that part of you. That was why he was playing it. “Anyway Daryl, you're lucky. She isn’t feeling too thirsty today”. Negan leaned towards him. “But I’m”, he said in a mortal tone. The tension lasted for a while. Daryl swallowed in spite of himself and one could feel the fear that was at its peak. "So .. I'm gonna go get me a drink !” He exclaimed with joy. “With my super hot wife”, he added to make Daryl even more upset. Daryl clenched his fists and gave you an accusing look. You returned his gaze before turning your head to the side. You knew he was going to be angry with you, but you decided to protect him at all costs. And if he had to hate you for that, fine. Now your heart had calmed down and you were relieved after hearing his words. Daryl was safe and sound. You put yourself in a shit not possible but at least he was going to be fine. That was all that mattered. Even if he was angry with you. Negan let a laugh escape. He frowned under the tapping sun as he returned to you, swinging Lucille on his shoulder. When he reached your height, he wrapped his arm around you and brought you closer to him. “Don’t be jealous, Daryl. You're going to have as much fun as I do”. And on these words he compelled you to follow him as he began to whistle that melody you had heard that night. You heard the blows fallen on Daryl and you did your best not to turn around and help. It would have been better to have you checked now. But you didn’t regret having intervened despite the consequences that would fall on you. “We’ll have a good time, don’t we ?” Negan whispered in your ear. No, you didn’t regret the least. You had no regrets. *** Here is the end ! Thank you for reading it. I hope you liked it and that I’ll see you for the next fanfic !

[wayneooverton]

Everything you need to know about surviving winter in New Zealand

Listen up, everyone! It’s the first week of June. Winter has officially arrived. Grab your woolen sweaters! Raid the supermarkets for supplies! Gather your loved ones inside. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

You may think I’m being dramatic because New Zealand actually has a relatively mild climate year-round compared to say, Canada or Siberia, but trust me on this: winter in New Zealand is next level.

No, the temperatures don’t get below -5 Celsius very frequently and it often doesn’t snow to ground level, usually remains just in the mountains, but don’t let that trick you. Yes, if the sun’s out the days can be quite pleasant but if you’re heading into your first winter in New Zealand, there are some things you need to know.

Here’s everything you need to know about surviving New Zealand’s winters.

10 Reasons Why New Zealand in Winter Rocks

Our friend the hoar frost, a frequent visitor in winter in New Zealand

Winter is opposite, obviously

The seasons are opposite in New Zealand from what many of us might experience in the Northern Hemisphere.

Winter officially runs from June to September, with usually the best skiing and snowboarding in July and August. The autumn colors usually are finished in the South Island by mid-May and so from May to June is the sort of ugly in-between season where it’s cold and damp but the mountains aren’t open yet for all the winter fun. Wanaka is usually blessed with an inversion layer around this time as well, but more on that in a bit.

May and June are when most locals go overseas on holiday but can be a great time to travel here and get good deals and its certainly quiet.

The night is dark and full of terrors

And by terrors, of course, I’m referring to poorly-built wooden houses with little to no insulation.

New Zealand went through a radical century of minimal building regulations for homes which resulted in little-to-no understanding of insulation and therefore pretty terrible design flaws for New Zealand homes.

Many homes have very little insulation and no double-glazing on the windows. Central heating and radiators don’t exist (as far as I can tell) and down in Wanaka where we live, you heat your house with a fire. Yes you read that right. A fire.

A study done in 2010 showed the average evening temperature of a New Zealand living room was 17.8 degrees Celsius. For my American friends keeping track at home, that’s a balmy 64 degrees. Some homes were as chilly as 10 degrees in the evenings (50F), well below the World Health Organization’s recommended minimum 18 degrees.

Of course, Kiwis will hear this and give a solemn nod and perhaps say, “She’ll be right,” 
(ehhh, not ideal but oh well what can you do?) But Kiwis are built tough and are a hardy folk. Much tougher than me. They basically come out of the womb ready to be submerged in an ice bath. They see ice on the *inside* of their bedroom window and don’t even flinch.

Just put on your puffer jacket and beanie and you’ll be fine. Harden up.

This is only a *slight* exaggeration on what New Zealand homes feel like.

I thought I was ok with the cold. I survived seven Chicago winters where the temperatures rarely reached above -5C but in Chicago, the inside of places are usually warm and inviting.

I’m used to central heating. You know, a heating system that circulates warm air throughout the home to ward off the cold and dampness. I’m not used to wearing six layers and sleeping under 14 blankets. I’m not used to only heating one room in the house (sidenote: am I alone in thinking sitting on an ice cold toilet seat has to be one of the most unsettling feelings on the planet?) All I’m saying is I shouldn’t see my breath in the morning as I roll out of bed. Is that too much to ask?

Look, I’m not telling this to scare you or dissuade you. I’m just giving you the hard words because you should know exactly what you’re heading into. No one told me these things when I moved here so you’ll be miles ahead of me. Your mental preparation starts now.

I reckon it takes three winters here before you get used to it.

Invest in your heating sources

Part of why New Zealand houses are so cold is because it can be very expensive to heat them.

Most older homes will have a wood burning stove which will heat up the common area. If you’re lucky, you might have a heat transfer system that pretends to transfer that warm air to the bedrooms (spoiler: it doesn’t).

Many of us Americans grow up without solid fire-building skills, but trust me, it only takes one winter in Wanaka with a wood burner for heating and you’ll learn to build a good fire fast.

If you’re planning to heat your house with wood, buy early.

Seriously, you can never be too early to buy your winter supply of wood. Not only will it be cheaper the earlier you buy it but there’s also a good chance the entire region will run out of wood if you leave it too long. You also want it really early because often it’s wet and not completely dried out and you need time to get it to dry.

If you’re nearing the end of May and haven’t figured out your wood supply yet, be ready to shell out big bucks for a few meters or be prepared to tough it without a fire.

If you’re a giant baby like me, you’ll also probably want to figure out how you can have a heater in your room without blowing your life savings. I use an oil heater and I’ve read if you let it run for 3 hours a day for 30 days, your monthly power bill will go up by about $50. Since I leave mine on almost all night, I’d triple this.

Some houses are heated with heat pumps which can be more economical.

If you’re heating your water with electric power, your bill will be even higher. In my opinion, there’s really no way around it. I’m past the point in my life where I’m too cheap to pay to be warm so I try to budget through the year. I’m conscious when I get my cheap summer bills to set some extra aside for winter.

Bite the bullet and pay up. It’s so worth it to be warm.

The sun is there. Learn how to find it

It’s no secret that winters are dark. We’re not special here, I know.

This isn’t a fact solely synonymous with New Zealand. Unless you’re on the equator, every country gets dark earlier and earlier as winter creeps up. But in many parts of the South Island (especially our beloved Wanaka home) we are also treated to the infamous inversion layer in the early winter day smothering the town in a layer of grey gloom for days on end.

8 reasons to visit the South Island in winter

Without getting too science-y here, inversion layers develop when the ground cools off rapidly making the air closest to the ground much cooler than the atmosphere layers above. This produces a dense, low hanging cloud that blankets the town. Sometimes it burns off by the afternoon and othertimes you’re stuck with it.

If you’re planning to enjoy a Wanaka winter, you’ll most likely be introduced to the inversion and be left wondering when the sun will come out again. But don’t worry, it usually ends by July and August and then we have many bluebird winter days, great for skiing.

Here’s the secret: get above the sun.

It can be so deceiving when you’re the town, huddled beneath the dark clouds to think you’ll never see the sun again but a quick drive up Cardrona Valley or up the ski field access roads will catapult you into that bright and warm sunshine you’ve been craving.

If you don’t want to drive, just start walking up a hill. Any mountain reaching 1,000m is likely to be above the inversion layer and there’s really nothing quite like popping out the other side of the inversion layer, basking in the sun and looking down to the sea of clouds below you.

Pretty tough to not feel very smug for all those poor people still in town hiding under the clouds. Go ahead, let that smirk slip. No one’s going to know when you’re 1,000m in the air.

And before you know it, the ski fields are open and winter New Zealand is in full swing.

Powder days are the best!

If you find yourself living near one of the many mountains in New Zealand or even just visiting in winter. Learn to ski or get up the hills.

Skiing and snowboarding is a big part of the winter culture in New Zealand, and it’s really fun to embrace it. Everyone gets excited for storms and powder days, and being such small communities you often see people you know up the mountains.

You’ll find us riding up at our local mountain, Cardrona, this winter, we have season passes and are especially excited as there is already so much snow!

Since major hikes are often off the cards in winter due to avalanche dangers, zipping around on skis is the next best thing. And there is great backcountry exploring and even heli-skiing options to be had for the bold and adventurous.

Winter is the perfect time to accessorize!

No, I’m not talking about a new necklace or a dope new scarf (although that actually might be a good investment tbh). I’m talking about home accessorizing!

There are few old tricks of the trade to pull out from the archives on how to keep warm in the house, without lighting the fire or putting the heater on.

First things first, you’re going to need to get yourself about five hot water bottles.

Yes, the ones your mom would give you when you had terrible cramps. Stock up on those babies and fill them to the brim every night with boiling hot water. Hug one while you’re watching a movie in the lounge. Strategically put them in different corners of your bed to make it nice and toasty before going to sleep. Take one with you to meet a friend for brunch. Whatever. I’m not here to judge you.

Get a nice wooley cover for them, or if you’re feeling particularly kiwi, a possum fur cover.

Next, stock up on merino wool clothing. I know it can be expensive but it’s worth it. You’ll be much warmer in wool than in cotton and you’re body will be thanking you for not having to work so hard to keep you warm. Long sleeve shirts, leggings, hats, gloves. You really can’t have too much merino.

Often heating is such a luxury in the States and I can remember living in places with radiators where it was so hot inside in winter you’d be in a t-shirt. Well let me be the first to tell you, you won’t even be looking at t-shirts in winter in New Zealand. Bundle. Up.

Finally, you’re going to want to get yourself some flannel sheets. There’s nothing worse than crawling into an icebox of a bed thanks to your cotton sheets. Flannel sheets will change your life and will make getting out of bed in the morning 10 times harder.

(Hot take: Many people in New Zealand use electric blankets to heat their bed. I’m not advocating for this because there’s tons of research showing they are extremely dangerous, emitting an electromagnetic field that is directly linked to an increased risk of cancer. Google it!)

Learn to eat seasonally

If you’re staying for winter you’re going to find out very quickly that a lot of produce is simply not available in the winter.

Yes, hi, privileged American girl over here, I know.

I guess I took for granted the plethora of tropical fruit and exotic vegetables offered year-round in American grocery stores. I quickly changed my tune when I moved here and saw that limes are $30/kilo here ($13/lb). Don’t even get me started on avocados.

Most people who live here know avocados are strictly off limits until summer unless you’re a millionaire.

See ya later produce!

The good news is you’re quickly going to learn how to eat seasonally.

Things like broccoli, parsnips, cauliflower, Brussel sprouts, sweet potato and carrots get a lot cheaper.

At first, you might miss your watermelon and pineapple and bell peppers but it will just make them taste that much sweeter when they finally come back in season.

Indulge in your hobbies

Winter is a great time to finally devote some time to that hobby you’ve been meaning to pick up.

The daylight hours are limited, the weather outside is frightful, etc. etc. Maybe take that pottery class you’ve been scoping out. Perhaps you’re finally going to learn how to crochet a pair of socks. Take a cheese making course. Learn to bake really dope bread.

Even better, learn how to make the perfect American doughnut because there’s a shockingly low standards for good doughnuts in New Zealand (what’s a girl gotta do to get an old-fashioned cake doughnut around here??)

Also get outside and indulge in some of those epic winter adventures available around New Zealand. My favorite is snowshoeing on the Tasman Glacier.

There are a lot of cool things happening in winter

It’s not surprising that a lot of the really cool events happen in winter when people really need a boost of spirits. There are plenty of winter events to keep you happy.

Starting in late May, get tickets to the world-renowned Banff Mountain Film Festival which hits locations (including Queenstown) around the country. Hit up another film festival, this time the New Zealand Mountain Film Festival which is a super fun event celebrating all things adventure in Queenstown and Wanaka for a few days.

Winter Photography Tips for Snow Bunnies (and Bears)

Check out Luma, a lights festival focusing on arts and culture in Queenstown. Don’t forget to partake in your local Matariki (Māori New Year) celebration.

Winterfest in Queenstown is also a big hit, and this year the host mountain is my local hill, Cardrona Alpine Resort! The southern hemisphere’s biggest celebration of winter, it is such a fun way to kick off the winter season if you find yourself around the South Island at the time.

Embrace the cold

What’s that saying? If you can’t beat them, curl up in a ball and cry until you finally generate some body heat? No?

Despite my complaining and moaning, there’s a reason I’ve weathered three winters in Wanaka.

Yes it’s cold and somedays I feel like my toes won’t have feeling in them again until October but there’s no denying winter is a special time in New Zealand. The mountains that are already spectacularly grand somehow look even more massive and majestic with half a coat of snow.

Embrace that snow and do as the locals do.

Get up the hill and learn to ski/board. If you already know how bite the bullet and buy a ski pass so you can enjoy the winter sun guilt free whenever you please. Go for a walk on a lower altitude track (there are TONS!). Find some snowshoes and go from a tramp around the gentle slowing Pisa Range.

If nothing else, find some snow and throw a snowball in your best friend’s face. It’s bound to make you laugh and break out of that seasonal depression disorder.

It can be tough weathering New Zealand’s winter but just remember, each day you’re that much closer to summer and when it’s all said and done, you’re going to be a lot tougher on the other side of winter than when you started.

Welcome to the Kiwi lifestyle. Time to harden up!

Do you travel in winter? Have you ever been to New Zealand in winter? Share!

The post Everything you need to know about surviving winter in New Zealand appeared first on Young Adventuress.

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[sherristockman]

Growing Turmeric Is Easier Than You Think Dr. Mercola By Dr. Mercola A bright orange spice that's been a favorite in Thai and East Indian cooking for thousands of years, turmeric (Curcuma longa) is aptly named for the Persian word "saffron," a hue much like a pumpkin or the flesh of a sweet potato, but the similarity ends there. The vibrant, yellow-orange color is synonymous with the robes worn by many Buddhist priests. Turmeric is part of the ginger family, which is why both exude a pleasant little zing on your tongue, but the flavor is different; the former is described as both pungent (read: bitter) and peppery. It's not meant to be a flavor on its own but as a seasoning to complement other foods. It's famous in curry dishes, mustard (hence the color), soups, the current obsessions known as turmeric latte or golden milk, and more. But here's where the benefits keep going. Besides creating a unique and signature flavor, turmeric's aforementioned health benefits make turmeric a natural, healing substance that more people than ever want to have at the ready. That's because it's not just powerful, it's also safe, which can't be said for most prescriptions. Because natural turmeric can't be patented, making a mega-profit off its benefits isn't possible, and since it's not a "drug," it can't bear the U.S. Food and Drug Administration's (FDA) seal of approval. The root is used to make prescription drugs, however.1 Nonetheless, the healing aspects are readily available in the root itself. Daily Health Post notes that turmeric "may be the world's most important herb" because it contains more than 600 potential preventative and therapeutic functions, and further, that it's: "A medicinal spice so timelessly interwoven with the origins of human culture and metabolism, so thoroughly supported by modern scientific inquiry, as to be unparalleled in its proven value to human health and well-being. Indeed, turmeric turns the entire drug-based medical model on its head. Instead of causing far more side effects than therapeutic ones, as is the case for most patented pharmaceutical medications, turmeric possesses hundreds of potential side benefits, having been empirically demonstrated to positively modulate over 160 different physiological pathways in the mammalian body."2 That said, while this spice is commonly thought of as growing best in a hot, tropical climate, you can actually grow turmeric at home, similar to ginger. Sure, you can buy it in many large supermarkets, but it's usually quite expensive, is somewhat limited depending on the time of year and to find it in organic form is rare. Growing Turmeric: Nipping It in the Bud I experimented with growing turmeric and planted a pound last year. This year I have a virtual turmeric forest that even flowered. Now I can have fresh turmeric at my fingertips year round. Turmeric, the featured video notes, is a plant grown for its roots. It isn't propagated by seeds; how it's grown, both indoors and out, starts with a firm, healthy root, which you can usually find at a health food store or supermarket. Root cuttings have little "growing buds," which look like nodules or even "fingers" extending outward, generally in the same direction. When planted, rule one is that the buds are facing upward, not downward, in the soil. Here's the drill: Instructions Break or cut a large turmeric rhizome into a small piece (or more, if desired) that has two or three buds. Fill 14- to 18-inch-wide pots (for each 6- to 8-inch root) that are at least 12 inches deep and provide good drainage with rich, moist, organic soil to 1 or 2 inches below the rim, depending on the rhizome's size. Place the rhizome so that the buds are facing upward, not downward, below the surface of the soil by two to 4 inches. Whether planting outdoors or in pots inside, these plants thrive in heat — 86 to 95 degrees Fahrenheit works well — as cooler temperatures will produce much slower growth. However, part shade is fine. Water the plantings and keep the soil moist, especially in dry, hot climates; less frequently in cooler temperatures. Watering every other day is a good rule of thumb, but don't let them sit in soggy soil. You can also mist the soil with a spray bottle, which tropical plants appreciate. Areas that don't have the high temperatures that turmeric thrives in must produce it other ways. That's where grow lights and heat mats come in handy, either full time in early spring or late fall, or during the night when available light isn't around 80 degrees Fahrenheit. It can take eight or 10 months for turmeric to mature enough to be edible, so determine your planting time, method and location accordingly, and be patient! While you can also eat the leaves and roots, the star of the show is the underground root. While the spiky flowers are beautiful, lush and tropic-like, their presence doesn't adversely affect the roots, as is the case in many herbs and edible plants. Growing Hints and Helps for Turmeric, Inside and Out Once the plants reach 2 inches in height, transplant them if necessary so there's at least 16 inches between them. Compost tea is a good thing to implement to ensure optimal growth. Outside, only garden zones 8 or 9 (expert sources vary) and above will sustain the growth of a turmeric plant, although summers in colder zones will also work if you dig up the plant and move it inside or take the whole pot inside before it starts getting too cool. Turmeric plants don't do as well when it dips below about 65 degrees F. You should also know that turmeric outdoors will go dormant in winter, but in the warmest climates (7b garden zones and above, generally) it can be left in the ground to sprout new, greenish-white and sometimes pinkish-white flowers the following spring. The roots will survive as long as they don't freeze. Mulching them with a couple inches of organic matter will also help protect them from an unexpected frost. Rodale's Organic Life3 explains that your turmeric is likely ready for harvest when the plant above ground begins turning dry and brown. Gently remove the roots — if in pots, tip the whole thing to get to the root — and shake off loose soil. Cut the stems off about an inch above the rhizome root mass and wash them well. Grow This4 notes that it's usually best to harvest turmeric rhizomes all at the same time, but when you dig them up, you can save one or two for future plantings so that in every sense, the potential health of each root is propagated. Once You Harvest Your Turmeric Once you begin handling turmeric (which should be done so gently, Heirloom Gardener5 advises), especially peeling them or cutting them for propagation, be aware that exposure to the flesh will turn you bright orange, so wear gloves. Fresh turmeric can be used in similar ways to ginger. You can cut the peeled roots into coins or grate it to add to stir-fries or drinks. Drying turmeric is another option, but you should know that the process will inhibit the strength of its pungency, as are essential oils, The Kitchn says.6 Store fresh turmeric rhizomes in a baggie or other airtight container for up to a week, or freeze them. To dry turmeric for later use, you can boil your harvested turmeric root for 45 minutes, pat it dry with a paper towel, peel it and allow it to dry for about a week in an area that's protected from dust but with air circulation — not plastic. You can grind the roots into a fine yellow powder using a coffee grinder, food processor or even pestle and mortar to use for multiple applications, both culinary and medicinal. Turmeric powder adds so much zest to cooking that you may wonder how you ever lived without it. You can also throw a teaspoon into your smoothies with other healthy ingredients, such as coconut oil and fruits like banana or mango. You can sprinkle powdered turmeric root on roasted vegetables such as cauliflower, zucchini and sweet potatoes, on meats such as pastured chicken or grass fed roasts or in lattes; in fact, the options are only limited by your imagination. A good rule is that 1 inch of fresh turmeric is equal to 1 tablespoon of fresh grated turmeric or 1 teaspoon of dried powder. What's so Great About Turmeric? The single-most exceptional health-beneficial and disease-preventive compound packed in turmeric is curcumin. One study notes several of the most important properties of this rugged rhizome, and the plant chemicals involved, including anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, antimicrobial, immunostimulant, antiseptic, analgesic and anticarcinogenic: "Components of turmeric are named curcuminoids, which include mainly curcumin (diferuloyl methane), demethoxycurcumin, and bisdemethoxycurcumin … Curcumin (diferuloylmethane) is a polyphenol derived from Curcuma longa plant, commonly known as turmeric. The active constituents of turmeric are the flavonoid curcumin (diferuloylmethane) and various volatile oils including tumerone, atlantone, and zingiberone."7 Curcumin is also hepatoprotective, aka liver protective, notably against the toxins tetrachloride (CCl4), galactosamine, acetaminophen (paracetamol) and Aspergillus aflatoxin, mainly due to its antioxidant properties, as well as its ability to reduce pro-inflammatory cytokines from forming, and evidence shows it may help treat gallstones. Further, the phytochemicals in curcumin prevent platelet aggregation, or the clumping together of platelets, which improves circulation.8 WebMD lists an abundant amount of maladies, conditions, illnesses and disorders that Ayurvedic and other natural approaches have been employing curcumin for over centuries. Incredibly, this is just a sampling of the ways the potent phytochemical curcumin has been used successfully. Arthritis Skin conditions Urinary bladder inflammation Kidney problems Heartburn Joint pain Diarrhea Intestinal gas Crohn's disease Ulcerative colitis Headaches Fibromyalgia Gum disease Parasites Bruising Curcumin's Potency Against Cancer, Alzheimer's Studies on the astonishing potency of curcumin against cancer are numerous. In vitro, for instance, it was found to resist oxidative damage in aortic endothelial cells.9 In addition: "Curcumin is antimutagenic as it potentially helps to prevent new cancers that are caused by chemotherapy or radiation therapy used to treat existing cancers. It effectively inhibits metastasis (uncontrolled spread) of melanoma (skin cancer) cells and may be especially useful in deactivating the carcinogens in cigarette smoke and chewing tobacco."10 Animal studies have indicated three stages in which curcumin helps inhibit cancer: tumor promotion,11 angiogenesis12 and tumor growth,13 particularly in colon and prostate cancers. Daily Health Post lists serious disorders and diseases curcumin may be useful for treating or preventing, including:14 Killing cancer cells, including stem cells or roots, and those that are drug resistant Protecting against damage caused by radiation Reducing and/or preventing inflammation Protecting against heavy metal toxicity Not just preventing but reversing Alzheimer's and other types of dementia Keep in mind that curcumin may interact with a variety of prescription and nonprescription drugs, including some diabetic medications, aspirin and other painkillers, by causing nausea or upset stomach. Overall, however, studies and reviews have tested turmeric's effectiveness against disease extensively. The study concludes, as we should, that the "efficacy, pharmacologic safety, and cost effectiveness of curcuminoids prompt us to 'get back to our roots.'"J ust one example observes: "Because it can modulate the expression of [several important molecular] targets, curcumin is now being used to treat cancer, arthritis, diabetes, Crohn's disease, cardiovascular diseases, osteoporosis, Alzheimer's disease, psoriasis, and other pathologies. Interestingly, 6-gingerol, a natural analog of curcumin derived from the root of ginger … exhibits a biologic activity profile similar to that of curcumin."15

[jimlingss]

The Deli Diaries [5]

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10  || Chapter 11 [Finale]

➜ Words: 2.7k

➜ Genres: Fluff & Cuteness, That good ol’ slow burn, Slice of Life

➜ Summary: Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

➜ Warnings: Mundane-ness that might make you bored to death

➜ Notes: slow burn that is slowly but surely moving somewhere

Okay. You might not completely hate your job.   But only sometimes...sometimes you don’t want to stuff deli sausages down your throat and hope you choke to death. Though the feeling of finding your job somewhat decent happens once in a blue moon, or rather, once a cute toddler comes giggling your way.   “Umm…” You lean over from behind the cases, abandoning your next task of making pizzas and instead trying to gain the attention of the older woman who’s looking at the packages of macaroni. When she lifts her head, you gesture towards her daughter. “Would she like a sample?”   “Oh. Sure!”   Your heart is swooning.   You’re actually not that big on kids. They can be loud, noisy, rambunctious. You don’t appreciate how they relentlessly ask questions, or when they run around to disrupt your peace, or throw screaming tantrums in public or how they smear their boogers on all the furniture. You don’t even like babies — all they do is shit and eat and they look like wrinkly aliens when they’re born.   You’re much more of a dog person. At least if a dog poops on your floor, they’ll be somewhat apologetic about it. Plus, a dog won’t grow up to tell you they hate you or slam doors or unleash their pubescent anger on you.   But there’s this point in time for kids where they are so fucking cute it’s unbearable. It’s around the toddler stage, when they’re learning how to walk and can’t dash off on a wild goose chase, when they’re still babbling nonsense and can’t make snarky remarks, when they’re learning how to read social cues and instead of looking like a wrinkly alien, they’re looking like a regular human child.   “This is honey ham!”   You hand the sample over to the mother and she takes it gratefully before handing it to her child.   The toddler is sitting in the shopping cart, seat belt attached around her abdomen and cotton, pink onesie. She’s bustling with energy, her tiny amount of wispy hair tied upright like an apple stem, bobbing up and down as she sways from side to side. The kid is blowing raspberries to entertain herself, chubby cheeks puffed out, kicking her feet and wiggling around. When you meet her eyes, she quirks her head to the side and grins, cheeky smile showing two white teeth and pink gums.   “Would she like some cheese?”   Her mom turns to her. “Do you want some cheese?”   The kid nods, head dipping down and coming up before repeating several times. You melt at her adorableness and you grab four cheese samples, handing it to the older woman. “Here you go!”   “Oh wow, that’s a lot,” she laughs and then takes it into her palm, handing one to her daughter. “What do you say? Say thank you.”   The kid inhales the cube of cheese all at once, chewing it inside her cheek. “Tank you!”   Her mom smiles softly at you before beginning to move away. “Thank you.”   “No problem.” You wave towards the kid who waves back at you enthusiastically. Your cold dead heart feels surprisingly warm. “Bye!”   Maybe your job isn’t so bad after all.   //   You take it back.   You take it all back.   “There aren’t any sandwiches left?” This random lady is looking at you in appallment, like she can’t believe her own ears, that someone actually might’ve been here before her to buy sandwiches and the store hasn’t been open for nine hours now.   You decide to walk around the cases, going out to personally meet her and take a look. “No, unfortunately whatever’s out here is all we have.”   “...I don’t like tuna.” She throws the sub sandwich in her hand back onto the shelf. “You’re not going to make anymore?”   “Well sometimes my supervisor makes them in the morning,” you explain calmly. “But usually they’re prepackaged. Someone delivers them.”   The customer tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and then crosses her arms, tapping her foot in impatience. “So, you don't make it here yourselves?”   “No…”   She gives you a skeptical look, red lips pressed in a straight line. “Can you check the back?”   “Okay...?” You walk back behind the cases, opening the cooler door and...yup...sandwiches haven’t magically appeared. When you return to the customer, you offer your grievances. “Yeah, I’m sorry. There’s no more.”   “Can you ask your manager?”   “My….manager?” Your brain goes blank. There’s a monotone sound that rings through the recess of your mind. Uhhhhhhhhhhh….and you snap back to reality. “She already went home a few hours ago.”   “Then can you ask someone else?” She looks at you like you’re dumb and maybe you are, but you still don’t appreciate the dirty look. Nonetheless, you’d rather not get fired for telling a customer to fuck off, so you nod instead.   “Okay. I’ll ask.” You walk away, stealing three strides and when you turn, her beady eyes are narrowed on your form. She’s staring. But before you can go up to the customer service counter, you run into someone else on the produce floor. He’s a familiar boy, dark tuft of hair that’s too reminiscent of cotton candy, and all eye smiles and soft, sweet voice. “Hey…”   “What’s wrong?” Immediately, Jimin is concerned, stopping from piling oranges onto the display basket. He fully turns to you, reading your sour expression.   “Nothing. I just got a difficult customer.” You take a peek back and thankfully the lady isn't straight out glaring at you, instead she’s occupied on her phone.   “Oh. Do you want me to call the manager on duty?”   “Nah, it’s fine.” You wave him off. “I don’t want to make a big deal. She just wants to ask me someone...higher up if there are sandwiches left.”   “Well.” He lifts his chin playfully to look down on you, pretending to be a supervisor. “Are there sandwiches left, Y/N?”   You grin. “No. There aren’t.”   “And why not?”   “Because other people bought them already.” You laugh and he eases into a smile. “Okay, I’m going back now before she thinks I’m chatting with you.”   “Well you are chatting with me,” he chides, teasing you. “Get back to work!”   “Aye, aye, captain.” You salute him before walking back to where the lady’s angrily tapping her fingers on her mobile phone. As you come around the counter, her head rises. “Yeah. I’m sorry. We don’t have anymore.”   The customer sighs exhaustingly, adding to the theatrics by rolling her eyes. “I’ll take some lunch meat then.”   “Alright. What would you like?” You put on a new pair of gloves before placing your hands behind your back as you await her decision. She takes a long moment to decide, eyes flickering all over the meat case. “Do you want a sample?” you suggest.   “No.”   The woman shuts you down with a curt tone and then presses her oily fingertip all over the clean glass, leaving prints all over the surface. (An angry and irrational thought passes...if you were evil enough, you would take her fingerprints and put it at a crime scene and frame her for a fucking murder). “I’ll take three hundred grams of black forest ham. And I want to see the first slice.”   “Of course.” You take the ham out from the case, throwing it on the slicer and adjusting the knob before cutting one. “What do you think?”   She leans over and lifts her hand to press the slice of ham that’s in your palm. “That’s way too thick. Half of that. Like one fifth of an inch.”   “Okay.” You’ll never comprehend why certain people give you such complicated measurements — as if you have a ruler downloaded inside your brain and you recognize what the hell one fifth of an inch is. “How about this?”   “That’s too thin.”   “Oh. I’ll fix it. Would you like the slice?”   She gestures. “Just add it into the pile.”   “I..uh..okay, but I was wondering if you wanted to eat it.” You clear your throat, continuing on your explanation when she stares at you impassively. “Some customers like to eat a slice as a sample.”   “No. I don’t want any samples. I know what it tastes like.”   Well damn. “Okay.” You cut another slice. “What about this?”   The woman groans and shuts her eyes, waving you off. “It’s fine. I’ll take three hundred grams.”   You pull a piece of plastic, cutting a total of six slices and when you put it in the scale, it’s four hundred grams. “Um, is four hundred okay?”   Her expression goes bad and before you can take out any slice and apologize, she groans again. “You can’t get three hundred?!”   No response leaves you this time. You simply take out a slice and it drops down to three hundred and thirty grams. When you wrap it up in the bag and you hand it to her, she roughly swipes it away from your grasps. The lady stares at it for an extended moment with lips downturned and thinly drawn brows furrowing. “Is it okay?”   “It’s a bit too thick. And it’s not three hundred.”   Well….she told you to cut that thickness and it’s only thirty grams over. What exactly is this stranger expecting from you?   “I can cut it again if you want.”   “No, it’s fine. Actually, I don’t want it anymore.”   “Oh...okay..” You’re a bit stunned, watching as she throws the perfectly fine package of sliced deli meat onto the ledge of the deli case. “I can redo it, it’s not a big deal.”   “I’m fine. Thank you. Bye.” The woman’s sincerity is never felt and she twists on her heel, pushing her shopping cart away. And you’re left behind the counter with the bag in your hand.   You open it.   When no one’s looking, you eat it.   Might as well….or else this is going into the trash can.

//   Time ticks so slowly. Sixty seconds is drawn to a hundred, making one simple minute so much longer than it needs to be. At this point, you’re just pacing back and forth, pretending to do work as you watch the time on the microwave. You stare. Stare. Stare. Until the last two digits hit a double zero. The hour’s over which only means one thing.   “My shift’s over, Yuna!” You announce across the deli to your coworker who just got back from her break less than five minutes ago. You rip off your hairnet, grabbing your bag to leave.   “Ugh, you’re so lucky. Bye.”   “See you tomorrow?”   “Yeah. Tomorrow.”   This is undeniably your favourite, happiest moment throughout the day. You’re practically grinning and skipping away, reminiscent of frolicking in a field of fresh flowers in some cheesy montage. You unclip your name tag from your apron as you approach the machine by the front door. And at the exact same time, you run into a certain someone.   “Hey, produce boy.”   Jimin grins and swipes his card after you do, officially clocking out for the day. “Hey, deli girl.”   “Off already?”   “Yup.” The two of you exit the store. “Are you working tomorrow?”   “Unfortunately.” You sigh but more for dramatic purposes. “You?”   “Yup.” He runs his hand into his hair, sweeping it back — a habit you notice he does quite often. “From noon to six. And yours is..?”   “Three to closing. Are you driving home?”   “No, I’m actually walking,” he admits with a shy smile.   “Oh.” You’re pleasantly surprised since it seemed like he drove most days. “Which direction…?”   “Over there.” Jimin slowly points and you smile.   “Same. I guess we can walk together.” The both of you begin on your way, strolling beside each other and cutting through the parking lot before landing on the proper sidewalk. “Is your house far?”   “About twenty minutes.” Jimin takes a shy peek at your profile. “You?”   “Mine’s about ten. That’s far for you though.” You’re not that big on getting active and twenty minutes rounded up was half an hour and walking for that long under the evening beating sun sounded like an absolute nightmare. “Why won’t you take the bus?”   “It’s okay. It’s actually not bad,” he muses. “Exercise is good. And time goes by faster when you’re with someone you like.”   There’s a second of silence and Jimin finally registers what he just said. “Uh, I mean..when you’re with someone who you can talk to, like that you like...like as in a friend...um—”   He’s scrambling for dear life and you can’t help but laugh. He’s too cute. “It’s okay. I get it.”   Jimin scratches the back of his neck, embarrassment burning his cheeks bright pink and he decides to switch the topic before he’ll kick his blanket tonight thinking about this very conversation. “Did that lady give you a hard time?”   “From earlier?” You look at him. “Yeah, she was a bit crazy. She wanted sandwiches but there were none left and then she wanted black forest but apparently it was too thick and then too thin and then too thick again and in the end she didn’t even want it! I don't get that! Why people just order things and don’t actually buy it. Do you know how many times things have been returned to the deli and then we have to throw it out? It’s so wasteful.”   He’s amused, smile on his face as he listens attentively to your endless tangent. His footsteps are synchronized with yours, matching in a singular beat, and he makes sure to look both ways before crossing the street with you. “But you’re okay?”   “I’m fine. Just annoyed...and tired...but when am I not?”   Jimin hums. “She didn’t yell at you, did she?”   “Not really,” you answer before a thought strikes you and your hands begin digging into your bag slung across your body. A second later, a plastic baggie emerges and you open it. “I didn’t throw it. Want some?”   “Sure.” Jimin rips a slice of black forest ham into two, sharing with you.   He chews. It’s quiet for a moment.   And Jimin is overcome with a fear that it’s awkward.   He’s really not that shy or timid despite most people’s first impressions of him being that way. With his friends, he can be pretty noisy and rambunctious. But with you, he puts himself under pressure, trying to drive the conversation. He wants it to keep going once it’s died down but his mind draws a blank when nervousness eats him whole.   He wonders if you’re doing the same thing, if you’re trying to think of things to make the atmosphere less tense or worse….what if you’re actually thinking about how weird he is?! Jimin knows he’s a klutz and a bit soft spoken but he hopes you don’t think he’s a creep for walking home with you or that he lacks social skills. Or maybe you’re just as nervous as he is.   Jimin’s palms are sweaty and he steals a glance at you while he continues to chew.   A million thoughts are racing inside his head and all you think of is — “I don’t like hams.”   Your expression has gone sour but you take yet another bite of the black forest ham as if to confirm your dislike. “Yeah. I don’t like it. Still not a fan of hams.”   Park Jimin scoffs lightly before laughing. His chaotic mind instantly dies down.   He knows you don’t like your job. You don’t like production. You don’t like customer service. You don’t like people. And you don’t like hams either. There’s a lot that you complain about and that you express you don’t like.   But a tiny, tiny part inside of him hopes….you like him.   (Uh, he means that in a friendly way, like...as friends...like you like him as an acquaintance, like he’ll just be happy if you don’t hate him as much as you hate your job….god….Jimin’s not even sure what he’s thinking anymore).