#which are a good 'oh fuck I don't have food' food

[hearmeoutgirl]

Hey guys... this is my first fic.. and for god's sake I'm so excited.... I hope you like the plot. And yes, I'm open to requests, girl! Enjoy reading :)

[Notice: my native language is not English, forgive me if there are any mistakes 🙏]

Subject: Fight in the Rain!

~~~~~~~~

If you were to describe today with one word, it would be shit.

You and Rafe went out to a dinner that you thought was special. The first moments were beautiful. You both were having a good time. Wine, food and a handsome gentleman Rafe... Isn't it heaven? The happiness didn't last long. When the tactless man at the table across from you sent a bottle of champagne to your table and his number with it, Rafe's veins started to boil with blood and anger.

Someone was trying to walk next to him, to his lover, to his lover.

Rafe was not a calm man, he never was. So he took the champagne in his hand and walked towards the man. If eyes could kill someone, this pimp had been killed many times by Rafe. As you watched him nervously, trying to grab his arm, Rafe broke the champagne in his hand over the man’s head.

Yes, your psychopathic lover.

And now, after all the chaos, you were sitting in the car, driving home. Rafe’s palm was bruised and bleeding from the shards of the champagne bottle. He was driving furiously as you carefully wrapped his hand.

“I wonder when you’ll finally get your temper under control,” you grumbled.

Rafe glared at you as he tried to control his anger. “That fucking pimp should be thankful I didn’t stick a champagne bottle up his ass.”

You just rolled your eyes. You finished cleaning your hands as the car drove to Rafe’s house in the pouring rain. You could feel the tension in the car as you sat there silently.

“I should have killed him,” Rafe said angrily, his knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel. “I should have buried him in that restaurant.”

You didn’t say anything. This happened a lot. When Rafe got angry, he would mutter to himself and when he finally calmed down, he would start talking to you. You were sure this guy was a real psychopath.

Rafe looked at you while smoking his cigarette angrily. “You shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, are you going to be a bitch to me?”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The reason a man walked up to you was because you were wearing a short dress? Seriously? Was this man serious? “Are you serious, Rafe?” You frowned at him.

"Oh, come on Yn. Don't look at me like that. You caught that man's attention by wearing that fucking dress. That's what you wanted. To be a whore." He growled, blowing smoke from him cigarette.

You wore this dress for Rafe. Not for any other man. You clenched your jaw in anger, not going to last until you got home. You turned to Rafe as he sneered at you.

"Stop the car."

Rafe frowned. He looked at you as he tossed his cigarette out the window. “What are you fuckinh talking about?” When he stops the car, you grab your bag without turning to him and get out of the car. You can't stand him calling you a whore. You weren't a whore. You never were.

You were already crying with anger when Rafe got out of the car, cursing. Rafe grabbed your arm and turned you towards him as you drove through the rain. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

You pushed him away. You pulled away from him, your body boiling with anger. But Rafe didn’t let you. He grabbed your arm tighter. “Are you trying to be a spoiled slut?! Wasn’t it enough to get that pimp’s attention?!”

Your hand, which you knew was tiny, flew up in anger and hit Rafe's cheek. You hadn't expected him to be so harsh either. But his disrespect was too much. "You're not the Rafe I know." Actually, that was exactly it. Psychotic, rude, Rafe.

When Rafe stood there in shock from the slap, you continued to cry in anger and turned your back and walked away from him. Your hands were shaking and it wasn't because of the rain. When you took a few steps, you felt two strong arms around your waist. He pulled your shaking and wet body to him. Your back hit his broad chest. Your efforts to push him away were in vain as his face rested on your neck. "Baby...." you gasped when his muffled voice reached your ears.

“Let me go…” your weak voice was mixed with the rain as your body leaned against his chest. Your eyes closed as Rafe held you closer to him. Your mascara was running down your face. Your black satin dress was soaked. The rain was cold, but the body you were leaning on and the arms that would have wrapped around your belly twice if they weren’t embarrassed were warm.

“Sshhhh…” Rafe muttered quietly, burying his face in your neck. “I’ll never… never let you go…” he felt you go limp in his arms as he gently kissed your neck. You knew you were crushing your pride underfoot, but damn it, you couldn’t help but feel his arms around you and wth his lips on your neck, and his voice muffled... what were you going to do but not give yourself over to him?

After a few minutes, when your hiccups had subsided and your crying had slowed down, Rafe removed your head from your neck and turned you towards him. "Look at me..." He gently lifted your chin. There was no anger in his blue eyes. There was compassion. A feeling he showed only for you. The shield in his eyes was lifted. There’s your Rafe.

"I'm sorry, okay? I meant to call you that... I mean call you bitch- damn it baby... I didn't mean to call you that shitty word..." He searched your eyes for any emotion as he looked at you. You looked up at him. You nodded silently. Your heart was still broken.

"Shit...." You looked up at Rafe as his huge hands cupped your cheeks. "My baby... my beautiful girl... my love..." the words were making you drunker than the wine you were drinking. "I never meant to break that little heart of yours. I'm sorry... I'm sorry so hard... I... I don't know how to handle this..."

"I see..." Rafe felt worse when you spoke with your cracked voice. He looked at you while cursing himself and suddenly fell to his knees. He looked at you while you frowned at him. "Rafe? What are you doing?"

"Respect.... you thought I didn't respect you... I respect you more than I respect myself..." Rafe on his knees just out of respect for you... fuck, my god....

"Rafe, get up... come on..." you looked around as he continued to look into your eyes. The dark street was empty. You bent down in front of him and became the same height as him. "idiot... you're a complete idiot..."

If anyone else had insulted him he would probably be buried, but Rafe smiled slightly at you as you called him an idiot. “I’m your idiot... sorry baby, I���” before he could finish his sentence your hands tangled in his wet blonde hair and you kissed him.

Smiling at the groan you heard coming from his throat, Rafe quickly stood up and lifted you up as well. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you.

"Fuck, baby..." He looked up at you, breathless, as Rafe's thick finger brushed against your wet lips. He kissed you hungrily as you stared at his lips. His arms wrapped around your slender legs and kissed you hard as he pressed your back against his car.

He kissed you until you were moaning and grinding yourself against his hardness. He moaned when you pulled his hair and whispered against his lips. "Fuck me until I forget how mad I am at you.." that was the last straw.

And Rafe fucked you in the backseat of his car until daylight, until the sun came up...

Hey, guys! I hope you like this....

When I wrote this episode, I wanted to write in a mood somewhere between season 2 and season 3 Rafe. A psychopath but a guy who respects his girl... you know he.

Don't forget to give information about the department you want! bye!

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

My real time reaction of watching an American influencer spread straight up lies about my country because they lived/visited there at some point

[teddybeartoji]

i can't believe you have to eat every single day like wdym i just did that yesterday???????????????????????

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

pata hai last kuch din i was very busy with my project kyunki final dena tha and binding karni thi etc to wo karwayi then i went to the bookfair bekaar tha then parso submit karne jaa rahi to subah accident hogaya (bhai ki bike skid hogayi and we fell down) and now i have a big ass blue bruise on my upper thigh and my parents don't even know lmao and kal ek science conference thi to i had to sit in an auditorium for 6 hours listening to accomplished people speak. that's what you missed now your turn

omg i knew everything in this except for the accident cause i stalk your blog vigorously everyday are you okay!!!!!!!!!! did you get tetanus shots!!!!!!!!!! also on your upper thigh oh no that's where future jiju is supposed to write MINE na as per our beloved song guilty as sin?

[gender-euphowrya]

the absolute vicious shit people think they have to say whenever the topic of 'picky eaters' comes up ESPECIALLY when it's about children is just sickening

[coquelicoq]

things i learned today:

my stepdad doesn't like the word obituary. why? well i can't be 100% certain because i asked no follow-up questions, but based on the way he relayed this information ("i don't like to use the word [lowers voice] oBITCHuary") i have a pretty good idea.

"we have to google meet" (as in, call each other on the Google Meet app) and "we have to google 'meat'" sound identical and i will interpret it as the latter regardless of how little sense that makes in context.

some drinking glasses have a little divot at the top of the handle into which my thumb fits perfectly!!!!!!!!

apparently when you find yourself at a branch of the library that's closing in three days for renovations, you should go ahead and check out all 11 books you have an eye on, because the computer will give you a due date SEVEN MONTHS INTO THE FUTURE. even though you could return the books at any other branch! jackpot.

[notjanine]

spent the summer prepping for and taking the worst exam of my life, riding out the lease at the worst place i've ever lived,* then being temporarily kinda homeless,** and getting dozens and dozens of job applications rejected. i had some fun in there, but my anxiety has been through the fucking roof on top of my regular summer depression.

then the last two weeks of august happened 😳

everything happens so much. somehow, i managed to find the perfect apartment for a reasonable rent, and now me and Books are living (together!) in a fantastic and charming new home- lots of space, big kitchen table, a balcony facing undeveloped woods, just off one of the major roads in the city that has my favorite grocery store and our favorite sandwich shop (where we were already regulars). plus, i've gotten not one, not two, but three (three!) job offers- and i can take them all!!! one is with a hospital where i did my favorite internship rotation, and i'm so excited that i get to go back there and get paid to do that job, it was a blast. another is right by my new place and it's similar to the other hospital, but it's slightly bigger and sees more complex cases, so i'll be comfortable and confident, but i'll still get some new, specific clinical experience in areas that i'm interested in.

and the third position is... literally my dream job. it's the job that's been the end goal since the moment i chose my field of study. grad school and the internship made me rethink all of my professional goals and push them back, thinking i wouldn't be able to get to them for so long because i'd need ~more experience~. but now i'm. uh. i did it. i did it??!

the two hospital jobs are just part time, but they both pay well. the other won't start for a few months bc my boss*** has to get insurance approval to add me to her private practice,**** but that's okay, because i have a lot of reading and learning i want to do in the meantime to prepare! and then it will start as part time working up to full time as i build up my case load, but i'll also get to decide my own hours and do some work from home. i'll get to work with my favorite kinds of patients! and i'll get fantastic professional development opportunities for specialization, if i want to. the other dietitians in the practice seem lovely, so i'm excited to work with them. and the pay is realllly good, gosh, for being fresh out of the internship, it's nuts.

so things will pick up as i go through orientation and onboarding for the two hospital jobs next month. but it'll get calmer again after that, so i'll have the time and energy to prepare for the more challenging work that starts later, which is really nice.

and in the meantime, i'll be tending the wee garden on my balcony and playing board games with the love of my life 💗

[giantkillerjack]

As time goes by, I find I am less likely to wake up in the middle of the night to needlessly hate on myself for some random awkward harmless thing I did 10 years ago.

I'm still up in the middle of the night feeling a deep primal urge to needlessly hate on things from years ago, but now it's more just things like

MAN I SHOULD PROBABLY MAKE ANOTHER POST ABOUT HOW MUCH I HATED BLY MANOR HUH

[nexus-nebulae]

wow i WILDLY miscalculated the difference between kilograms and pounds

[potatocatullus]

istg this teacher...

[avatar-aaang]

I had such a good day oh my god

[featherymainffins]

Binge-reading Dungeon Meshi because it's the only thing standing between me and suicide ngl.

[gregrulzok]

This is something I love SO much about Kuro, and about Dunmeshi's portrayal of Bilingualism.

Like ... When we first meet Kuro it's so easy to assume he's a dummy. He's a big doofy-looking dog man that only talks about food, and his sentences are disjointed and broken, so you think oh, haha, token dumb character.

But then we swap to speaking Kobold and it hits you like a truck - Kuro is a person, and he has a full and complete train of thought that he can articulate. This is a grown ass man, and in his native language he speaks just as well as anybody - not only that, but here we see that Kabru, who is usually so good with words, speaks Kobold just as poorly as Kuro does common.

It's such an easy, obvious, and common trope to depict broken speech in a characters non-native language as a funny gag at the expense of their intelligence - not even just in fiction! Making fun of non-native English-speakers for their broken English is so fucking common and normalized - and here you have such a clear and simple portrayal that, no, in fact, Kuro isn't stupid.

And the thing is, common is common for a reason, right. In general high fantasy, "Common" means "Language that is effortless for everyone to speak". But in Dunmeshi, it's explicit that Kobolds can't fully learn Common - Common is designed for Humans, but Kobolds are demi-humans with different mouths and throats that don't allow them to enunciate in the same way.

And yet Kuro is doing his best to study it. He's going out of his way to master a skill most others don't even have to think about. Speaking of which ...

We get this exchange between him and Kabru, which I also wanted to focus on.

Because when we first see Kuro, then portrayed as a simple-minded dummy, it's easy to think that Mickbell is taking advantage of him and Kuro is unaware. Here, Kabru even assumes they can't truly be friends unless they speak the same language perfectly.

But that's not really the case - Mickbell isn't taking advantage of Kuro, not in the way we (and the rest of the party) assume - because Kuro isn't as stupid as we assume. He's thankful to Mickbell, he wants to repay him, and the food is a nice perk - but ultimately he cares about Mickbell enough to put this much effort into learning a whole language for him (while Mickbell cares about him in his own way, though since Mickbell grew up without a family or friends, it usually just manifest in over protectiveness and a fear of losing him. His goal in life is to buy a house for them to live in together. Cmon.)

I think generalising Kuro and Mickbell's relationship as unhealthy (whether you perceive it as romantic or not) is doing a massive disservice to Kuro's intelligence due to his speech - something Kui goes out of the way to disprove.

I love these idiots.

[audisive]

♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

       It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[teaboot]

OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you