#Factory Worker/Food Packing

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[thenightmistress]

Prologue: A Godless Thirst

Hello everyone, here is a sneak peek into the story. I hope you enjoy it, for there will be more to come.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The world had died. 

Plagues scavenged for new hosts. 

Humanity had lost.

It was only a matter of time until the inevitable end when death would rule once again, and yet no one could have quite pictured it this way—the rise and fall of empires to the death of a republic to the rise of a democracy, all just to crumble under a single fungus, how the days grew longer and quieter. All so quiet. 

The food supply is dwindling, and many are desiccated like mummies in those abandoned museums. For humans, their death impacted all. Mother Nature had a sense of humor when it came to us. For we rely on humans for sustenance; perhaps our greed led to their near extinction once. Now, we hunt with caution for those who survived, both humans and beasts alike, now on the tip of a double-edged sword. Each bite we left had to be calculated, for hardly anyone traveled alone. The humans traveled in packs, and those found alone often lost souls or ones whose minds were taken over by a host far greater than the monster who once ruled the night. 

We sensed in our bones long before it happened that something was amiss. The witches gathered in their sacred grounds, covens from all over flocking back to their ancestral strongholds; the animals became restless; the werewolves who turned strayed farther and farther away from civilization after every full moon; the undead could feel a shift in the air as if a warning; our senses were on high alert as if an impending doom was upon us, but no one could have prepared for what happened. 

You should have known when you tasted the blood.

He was a factory worker — grain, flour, the kind that always smelled faintly of dust and steel. He’d fed you many times before, and you had never once flinched. But that night, something changed. The blood was warm, but underneath it, wrong. Sour, like metal that had soaked in rainwater too long. There was a weight to it — something thicker than it should have been. Something alive that wasn’t human. He smiled, oblivious, wiping his neck like it was any other night. “Been baking again,” he said, “flour from the mill.” He offered a loaf with pride.

You couldn’t speak. Your body rejected it. Your magic flared like it sensed rot in the roots. It wasn’t poison. It was worse. It was evolution—not ours, but something else's. A new kingdom rising in blood and silence. The beginning of an empire and the fall of another.

How could you know it was the beginning of the end? For the world did not end in great balls of fire as prophesied, but rather in the cries of the innocent who have yet to learn that their blood feeds the earth, quenching its thirst. Only the damned knew it had. 

Their gods had fallen, and the devil was slain. 

For Mother Nature had won, restless and thirsty, and there was no room for mercy…. Except for the damned.

The very beings she’s tried so hard to kill, but she doesn’t forget.

For how do you kill the dead? 

Take away the living.

This war was not theirs but ours. Our lesson. And yet we’d be the solution. 

[lbulldesigns]

Zaun (AITAH Arcane AU Mood board)

The City of Iron and Glass, and revitalisation

Seventy years ago, Zaun, still going by the moniker of the Undercity, was in a constant state of desperation.

The mining colony turned city, was no stranger to hardships. From unsafe mining conditions to unsafe working conditions within the factories jammed packed within the city, to unsafe living conditions due to poor maintenance to residental structure and over pollution brought on my the factories and the toxic gases from the deep mines being compressed within the underground city.

All of this was due to the conscious negligence of Piltover. Whose one and only concern was image and wealth. To them Zaun was an eyesore but they refused to acknowledge that this was due to them.

They preferred the image of being righteous and a city of academics and kept their well-shoed foot to Zaun's throat by unleashing their Enforcers upon them who dealt their "justice" in brutal fashion.

This continuous abuse and oppression had to come to an abrupt end, however.

In 1954 Piltover and its Enforcers had stepped on Zaun and Janna's (Goddess of the Wind) final nerve.

When during an arrest of a factory worker voicing his outrage for being unfairly fired, an officer took liberation to bludgeon a 12-year-old girl who had stepped in to beg her father's release before shooting dead the distraught father.

In this moment something snapped within the people witnessing the scene and every Zaun citizen present attacked the Enforcers without conern for their own lives. This attack would go on to inspire more within the city to take up arms and riots broke out everywhere, with the intention to put as many Enforcers down.

Janna tried to protect as many innocent lives caught in the crossfire as she could, but the death toll was climbing with her people dying in droves.

When Piltover took to trying to blow the bridges and starve the residents in Zaun, Janna had reached her limit and decided something more drastic had to be done.

For a month, the Goddess of Wisdom and Harmony became an unyielding and unrelenting, furious storm.

She took the fight straight to Piltover and wrecked havoc upon the city. Gleaming, unblemished structures that reached to the sky came crumbling down as if they were sandcastles within the oceans reach.

She dispersed her followers to ransack the city of the progress of food, clean water, and medicine. And kept the Enforcers secluded to Zaun, without backup and provisions and many beaten Zaunites looking for their own pound of flesh.

After a month of nonstop terror from the Goddess and many injured and homeless within Piltover, its Council flew up a white flag and begged for an audience.

Upon the Bridge of Progress, Janna stood mighty, if not unproud of her destruction, and yet resolute in her decision. She was done watching the mindless cruelty and violence to her people and would be ruling over them from then on.

An accord was struck that day.

Zaun would be its own nation from then on, and Piltover would pay compensation to the people for their negligence, in the form of money, technology, healthcare, and education.

An accord, that Piltover had no other choice but to agree to.

And this is how we come to Zaun today, under Janna's rule.

A city crushed by oppression and poverty, now turned metropolis of renewed vigor and spirit.

Zaun has transformed within the past seventy years into a technological paradise, built of off science and magic.

Its once toxic air has been dissipated by the trees that now grow within and upon every building, sustained by the HexTech-empowered artificial sun bolted to the cavern ceiling, and scheduled rainy days using the sprinkler system stretched out throughout the city. Water filtration has drastically improved drinkable water, and botany has become an essential subject in every school.

Zaun is now the cultural hotspot in Runeterra, with many coming from all over the world to visit or call Zaun its home.

You'll now find many cultures thriving within the city, as well as old structures standing proud against the tides of time.

One such building is a bar/pub called The Last Drop.

Religions of all caliber operate in Zaun, but none hold a candle to the temples of the Wind Goddess.

Mages with elemental talent, are often in high demand as they assist in the evironmental stability of the city.

And although Enforcers do still operate within the city, their presence holds neither respect nor true authority. Many Zaunites will opt to seek the services of private security firms, such as The Eye Of Zaun or the newly formed Firelights flying through the city on their chem tech-powered hoverboards; invented by 15-year-old Ekko Bennet in 2015, making him one of Zaun's first adolescent millionaires.

However, Enforcers have been reported to tiptoe on the boundaries of the two cities accordance.

With reports of Zaun civilians being killed just on the outskirts of the city, and more than a few being assaulted and/or killed within back alleys of Zaun. It is not difficult to discern what is happening.

The Enforcers are either trying to return to their old ways, or someone is looking to profit of off a potential war.

Either way, Zaun will be ready for what comes at it.

It vows to not wait for their gentle Goddess to bloody her hands again for them, they are the warriors who built this town.

[trivialbob]

Yesterday afternoon Sheila made a Thanksgiving dinner. It's my favorite meal. It turned out wonderfully. There are plenty of leftovers too, much to my delight.

After we ate, just the two of us at home, I cleaned the kitchen while she got ready to go out. I ran the dishwasher for the second time that day. My dream house has two dishwashers, or one conventional unit and some of those drawer-type ones I've seen at the appliance store.

By late afternoon we took Ella with us to the brewery. Sheila had packed several to-go containers of turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes and stuffing to give to the bartenders. She likes to feed the staff.

Some of them started eating right away. There was praise of the food and comments about how moist the turkey was.

"Mmmm, that is some moist turkey, Sheila."

"Wow Sheila, this turkey is really moist."

Even people who didn't eat any of the turkey piped in. "That sure looks like some moist turkey, Sheila."

Most of the brewery regulars were there. It was a blast. We took up the entire bar and some nearby tables. Sometimes when another regular walked in we shouted his or her name, much like "Norm!"

I also talked to new people. A woman asked me about Ella and another person's Aussie at the bar with another customer. We talked dogs and cats for a while. Then I learned she worked at the county's hazardous waste disposal facility.

Of course I had questions. When someone has an interesting job, I like to hear about it. All I do is type boring stuff at work. The only people interested in that are my boss and co-workers. And that's only because they have to care about my work.

I'm good about bringing in chemicals, oil and lithium batteries for disposal, because those things can't go in landfills. But what if batteries are embedded in a device? Am I supposed to break open an old GPS unit or Air Tag to remove the dead battery? Nope. She told me the people at the facility will do that.

She also said it's not uncommon for people to bring in perfectly good TVs for electronics disposal. Someone upgrades to a larger TV and doesn't want to deal with selling the old one online. They get rid of it. The woman advised me if I ever get rid of electronics, do a factory reset so my streaming sign-ons or email information get wiped out.

The facility also puts perfectly good household chemicals on a shelf for residents to come and take. You need to paint something and don't care what color it is? Go get a nearly full gallon container of paint someone dropped off.

The brewery closed at 7 PM. Sheila and I left shortly before that. She started work at 6:00 AM this morning and needed to go to bed early. I stayed up not much longer.

When I woke up this morning I had slept over 10 hours. What a nice feeling to have on the first day of the new year.

[burnwater13]

Grogu looks on food is poured into a bowl for him. The Mandalorian, Din Djarin sits beside him (partially out of frame). The food appears to be a kind of seafood stew. A Mon Calamari worker is in the foreground operating the equipment that provides the stew. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 3, The Heiress.

Seen it all…

Grogu understood why Imp remnants hid in the worst possible places on the worst possible planets. They knew that they were being actively hunted by the New Republic and a certain Mandalorian with a Jedi apprentice proving that his ability to deal with the left overs of an ill conceived empire wasn’t a fluke. But he really wished that just once he’d find them sitting at an open air cafe on Coruscant so the people of the galaxy, who seemed convinced that these guys were gone, could see how they’d been walking among them ever since Darth Vader dispatched the Emperor. If they couldn’t see it, they didn’t believe it.

Right now he was sitting on the ‘comfortable’ part of a stone out cropping waiting for his dad to ‘take care of business’ and trying to ignore just how bad this planet smelled. It wasn’t covered with lava flows that allowed bubbles of sulfuric dioxide to burst into the air and make the air stink of rotten eggs, rotten plants, other critters actively rotting, and burnt out battery packs. But it still smelled like it was. Instead it was covered with all sorts of run down, falling down, partially closed, factories, warehouses, transportation terminals, and the infrastructure that had once supported a bustling and busy manufacturing hub. 

Where Grogu considered Coruscant to be a cross between a mech and a droid as a planet, this place, MRP-13, was more like the Armorer’s forge had been replicated a hundred thousand times, all over the surface of the planet. It was clear that the plan had been to use up all the surface level materials, turn them into whatever they was good for, and then just drop down to the next layer of the planet’s crust and do it all over again. It made Calodan seem warm and inviting.

The shops, forges, foundries, bar mills, what have you, just got closer and closer to each other, as did the people who had been forced to work there. It was an awful environment and specialty droids were too precious to waste on a planet like MRP-13. Ugnaughts, Gamorreans, Iktotchi, Wookiees and a dozen other non-humanoid species were not. They had been dumped there with just that in mind.  To waste their lives making something the Empire needed. Grogu was pretty sure it was because the Empire seemed to hate everyone who wasn’t human. It wasn’t hard to see, if you knew where to look or if you overheard the right conversations. He overheard a lot of conversations. 

He’d overheard the conversation that lead them all to come to MRP-13 to begin with. He and his dad had been getting a bite to eat in one of the cantina’s on Corellia. They hadn’t gone to the Cin Vhetin or Ki’s Place. Grogu didn’t know why, but he accepted his fate and went to a place that had almost nothing to recommend it. It was run down. Smelled weird. Not bad, just weird. The clientele looked like the sort of folks that they had dealt with on Arvala-7 and Nevarro and who liked to talk about the good old days, when pirates and smugglers didn’t have to whisper about their work. It had been the physical embodiment of trouble. 

Normally, his dad, Din Djarin, didn’t select places like that for a meal. He liked the folks at the Cin Vhetin just fine and Ki was a great friend to Grogu, making sure that his bone broth and noodle bowl was never empty and the fire stacks were plentiful. This place served a sort of meat stew that, when his dad asked what kind of meat it had,  the server commented it wasn’t anyone they knew, most likely. That had almost turned Grogu’s stomach, but he’d eaten a lot of things when he was hiding from the Empire that he willfully ignored because knowing might ruin his appetite. 

After a few mouthfuls Grogu realized that he could no longer trick his stomach into obeying certain orders. He asked his dad where the privies were and the server pointed vaguely at door in the back of the building. Grogu chirped a thank you and raced off. He really didn’t want to get sick in that cantina, mostly fearing that they would ‘clean’ it up by serving it to someone else there. No one deserved that treatment. No one.

Grogu zipped through the door as a two humans walked through it, he guessed they were going to the same place, and just managed not to get stepped on by them. He would said something to them but he didn’t want to draw more attention to himself. He found a  sheltered spot behind a trash can and just emptied his stomach onto the ground. He looked around and saw that he was in an alley behind the cantina and not a privy at all. Whatever. He felt better and just needed to go back into the cantina and see if his dad was ready to leave the place. It seemed like the Mandalorian was waiting for someone to show up, but Grogu wasn’t certain about that. 

He was just about to use the Force to open the door he’d managed to exit through when he heard the two humans he’d exited with chatting. It almost seemed like they were speaking in code and that’s when Grogu realized he’d heard chatter like that before. It was just like being on Moff Gideon’s ship. The two humans were calling each other by their stormtrooper names! 

Instead of returning to his dad, Grogu pulled out his comp and hit ‘record’ and stayed there until the two men stopped talking because some critter had come barreling down the alley, sending scurriers, rats, and a zoological park’s worth of bugs flying in all directions. As soon as the wave of critters hit their legs, the humans started shouting and ran to the door and Grogu took that opportunity to re-enter the cantina, while the two humans were still shaking bugs off their clothes. 

Grogu had been inadvertently kicked a few times, but on the plus side, he’d also managed to snag some of the bugs. He ate them without thinking and felt much better. That was a nice surprise. 

He had rushed over to his dad and explained what happened and Din Djarin had clapped him on the shoulder and told him they could leave. Grogu had been thrilled! Apparently this was the information the Mandalorian had hoped to collect through some alternate method. Now they could leave and go some place and get a real meal. Yippee!

Grogu reflected that if he had known then, what he knew now, he might have simply walked around to the front of the cantina and insisted that they leave. He hadn’t thought a place could be worse than that alley way. He’d been so many crummy places but that alley was just the worst. Now he knew that he had no idea how bad a place could be when people were determined to be awful and he almost missed that alley way now. Almost. If he ever had to hide again, he was going to hide on Naboo or Degobah or even Cantonica. If he had to hide, he wanted to hide in comfort, not in misery. It wouldn’t make any difference to the bounty hunters they tried to send after him. They had seen it all. 

[vykker]

Infrastructure you don’t see in MO that probably exists in Vykkers Labs 13:

- Freight elevators and internal tram systems, I doubt they just have the one loading bay, and with the ships’ comparatively horizontal floor plan there’s probably need for a system to move cargo from one side to the other with ease. These systems are likely similar to the trains we see in ground level factories, albeit smaller. Still strong and fast enough that workers get smashed all the time.

- Maintenance tunnels for electronics, ventilation, and pipes, and probably a pneumatic tube system as well because it would fit the aesthetic. And yeah they definitely use these tubes to transport fuzzles at horrifying speeds. And the recycling blades would have to dump their meat chunks somewhere. There’s probably a big tube that squeezes the refuse from the blades to the poop chute.

- CARD READERS. I’ve thought about this way too much. Essentially it doesn’t make sense for the biggest pharmaceutical company in Mudos to not have badges or another system to protect their research. Certain badges are valuable due to the accesses they grant and collecting accesses are a point of pride for some workers. Each employee has a badge, scientist or worker. Your accesses are indicated by symbols engraved on your badge. The more symbols you have, the more accesses, the more places you can go and things you can take without being questioned. So having a badge covered in symbols is a bragging right and shows that you are considered important. Furthermore, Vykkers are a pack of self serving backstabbers who will eagerly steal each others research, so it’s important for labs to keep their areas separate.

- A dedicated garage for repairing the trains, lifts, snoozers, everything else, with employees who know how to fix such things. Not a large staff but incredibly important. Interns with an aptitude for engineering may get assigned specialized training and wind up there, but there’s also a number of Mudokon scrubs whose strength and dexterity make them great mechanics. Could be one of the few situations on the ship where the two species are forced to cooperate, and without Vykker oversight as well. Vykkers think they’re above such “menial” labor and generally don’t go there. Plus they’re too frail.

- Cafeterias; nice ones for Vykkers, crappier ones for Interns and Scrubs. The Vykker ones have chefs and waitstaff. The Intern and Scrub ones just have hamster tube type things where you pull a lever and slop falls out. Largely maintained by Mudokons in both cases, but considering how Vykkers Labs has a Fine Foods Division, there could be some proud Vykker chefs in the Vykker cafeteria.

- Recreational facilities. For Vykkers it’s again probably nice and connected to the cafeteria. They have a gym that sees only moderate use, and meditation rooms they pretend to meditate in. For everyone else it’s like a hodge podge of random shit that was going to be thrown away that the Interns were able to save. Dilapidated bar games and crusty couches.

- Emergency response systems. Aside from the button we see get pushed in the bad ending to MO, used as an intruder alert, there are probably other systems in place for fires, chemical spills etc, with dedicated teams to contain incidents. And with the badge thing I mentioned, they probably have special Emergency Badges that can get them nearly anywhere.

- A guest wing. This is an entire area of the ship that is hard to access and is reserved for guests. It contains the auction house, the dissection theatres, guest suites, and the external docking bay for visiting air ships. The floor plan is largely devoid of stairs because Glukkons suck at those. The Vykkers are extremely selective in who they allow to work in this section. Performing well for guests is a major priority. Workers assigned to the guest wing tend to be the best behaved and least beat up looking. You won’t see any emancipated scrubs or interns with scrungly stitches here. Everything is designed to give the best possible impression of the labs down to each employee. There could even be a small amount of well behaved sligs to keep their Glukkons at ease. The Vykkers of course will provide tours of the rest of the facility to high class guests, but these are always coordinated in advance to ensure there’s no blood on the floors & the employees working look less suicidal.

- a safety inspectors office… because hahahahahhahahahahahhaha

- A MASSIVE freezer; a place wall to wall on frozen specimens, ironically nicknamed “the zoo” for its diversity of preserved critters. Bodies of all species in all shapes and sizes can be requested and thawed for experimentation and study. Old experiments of interest wind up here in case they are useful later.

- certain labs have entrances and exits equipped with caustic chemical cannons to disinfect employees; peels your dermis off the first few times but after a while you adapt. Or not

[dailyanarchistposts]

Section V: The Evidences (Modern)

When examining the growth of technology and science in the modern century, we are really standing before awe-inspiring inventions and discoveries. Physics and chemistry are applied to the different fields of study, and new labor-saving devices are developed, through the ingenious of some lone scientists and inventors. We are on the dawn of an era where skyscrapers are still impressive and commonplace, where factories are capable of producing one thousand times as much as people could centuries ago, where the spirit of innovation and enterprise is inherent in the minds of all the people — and we start to think, even if for just a few solitary moments, that anything is possible. There is no bridge that cannot be built, no idea that cannot be manifested with earthly materials — no monument to human ingenuity that cannot be constructed. With this, we march towards a brighter future, where there is no dilemma that cannot be solved, no ideal that cannot be reached.

The International Trade Administration records the amount of workers and the value of shipments of each manufacturing industry in the United States of America. By analyzing the amount of wealth is produced by how many laborers, we can discover how much wealth each worker is personally responsible for creating — but, we also see what one worker is capable of producing, only by working alongside other workers with the use of technology. The workers are divided into two groups: total employment and production workers. Total employment includes workers who are not involved in producing anything, such as managerial positions among other things. Production workers, though, are those who are responsible for producing the actual product.

In the food manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,506,000 workers (1,150,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $413,000,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $274,236.38 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $359,130.43 worth of shipments. Of course, what does it exactly mean, when we measure the amount of money that is produced per worker? It is a very nominal meaning, having no solitary inference on value. So, to draw an analogy, I’ll compare how many products a worker has produced a year, based on the amount of wealth they have created. A good comparison item is a loaf of bread, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 137,118 loaves of bread, or each production worker has produced 179,565 loaves of bread. [40]

In the beverage and tobacco product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 175,000 workers (94,500 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $106,943,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $611,102.85 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $1,131,671.95 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pack of cigarettes, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 305,551 packs of cigarettes, or each production worker has produced 565,836 packs of cigarettes. [41]

In the textile mills industry, there is a total of 337,000 workers (286,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $51,846,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $153,845.69 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $181,279.72 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is square yard of cotton, at the cost of $3.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 51,281 square yards of cotton, or each production worker has produced 60,426 square yards of cotton. [42]

In the textile product mills industry, there is a total of 230,000 workers (187,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $31,649,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $137,604.34 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $169,245.98 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a square foot of carpet, at the cost of $0.75. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 183,472 square feet of carpet, or each production worker has produced 225,661 square feet of carpet. [43]

In the apparel manufacturing industry, there is a total of 520,000 workers (420,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $52,727,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $101,398.07 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $125,540.47 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is T-shirt, at the cost of $5.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 20,279 T-shirts, or each production worker has produced 25,108 T-shirts. [44]

In the leather and allied product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 69,200 workers (55,300 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $8,463,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $122,297.68 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $153,037.97 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is belt, at the cost of $8.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 15,287 belts, or each production worker has produced 19,129 belts. [45]

In the wood product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 586,000 workers (486,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $89,337,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $152,452.21 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $183,820.98 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a plank of wood, at the cost of $5.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 30,490 planks of wood, or each production worker has produced 36,764 planks of wood. [46]

In the paper manufacturing industry, there is a total of 548,000 workers (424,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $159,231,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $290,567.51 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $375,544.81 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is bundle of paper, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 145,283 bundles of paper, or each production worker has produced 187,772 bundles of paper. [47]

In the printing and related support activities industry, there is a total of 830,000 workers (598,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $99,916,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $120,380.72 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $167,083.61 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is an ounce of ink, at the cost of $1.50. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 80,253 ounces of ink, or each production worker has produced 111,388 ounces of ink. [48]

In the petroleum and coal products manufacturing industry, there is a total of 101,000 workers (67,100 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $229,153,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $2,268,841.58 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $3,415,096.87 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a gallon of gas, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 1,134,420 gallons of gas, or each production worker has produced 1,707,548 gallons of gas. [49]

In the chemical manufacturing industry, there is a total of 890,000 workers (511,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $416,017,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $467,434.83 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $814,123.28 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pound of Halon 1301 (used for preventing fires), at the cost of $4.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 116,858 pounds of Halon 1301, or each production worker has produced 203,530 pounds of Halon 1301. [50]

In the plastics and rubber products manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,080,000 workers (857,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $172,904,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $160,096.29 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $201,754.95 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pound of rubber, at the cost of $0.20. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 800,481 pounds of rubber, or each production worker has produced 1,008,774 pounds of rubber. [51]

In the nonmetallic mineral product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 522,000 workers (407,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $91,593,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $175,465.51 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $225,044.22 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a brick, at the cost of $0.50. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 351,123 bricks, or each production worker has produced 450,088 bricks. [52]

In the primary metal manufacturing industry, there is a total of 578,000 workers (459,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $152,157,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $263,247.40 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $331,496.73 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pound of steel, at the cost of $0.35. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 752,135 pounds of steel, or each production worker has produced 947,133 pounds of steel. [53]

In the fabricated metal product industry, there is a total of 1,815,000 workers (1,375,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $252,030,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $138,859.50 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $183,294.54 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a horseshoe, at the cost of $2.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 69,429 horseshoes, or each production worker has produced 91,647 horseshoes. [54]

In the machinery manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,396,000 workers (915,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $269,820,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $193,280.80 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $294,885.24 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is an Engine-Based Farm Plow, at the cost of $19,000. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 10 Engine-Based Farm Plows, or each production worker has produced 15 Engine-Based Farm Plows. [55]

In the computer and electronic product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,653,000 workers (853,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $475,025,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $287,371.44 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $556,887.45 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a computer, at the cost of $600. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 479 computers, or each production worker has produced 928 computers. [56]

In the electrical equipment, appliance, and component industry, there is a total of 591,000 workers (431,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $117,278,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $198,439.93 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $272,106.72 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a toaster, at the cost of $10.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 19,843 toasters, or each production worker has produced 27,210 toasters. [57]

In the transportation equipment manufacturing industry, there is a total of 1,838,000 workers (1,352,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $619,631,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $337,122.41 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $458,306.95 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a car, at the cost of $12,000. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 28 cars, or each production worker has produced 38 cars. [58]

In the furniture and related product manufacturing industry, there is a total of 641,000 workers (514,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $70,733,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $110,347.89 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $137,612.84 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a chair, at the cost of $25.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 4,413 chairs, or each production worker has produced 5,504 chairs. [59]

In the miscellaneous manufacturing industry, there is a total of 745,000 workers (501,000 production workers out of those). In the year 2000, they produced $105,899,000,000 worth of shipments. Each worker produced $142,146.30 worth of shipments, or if measuring production workers, then each production worker produced $211,375.24 worth of shipments. A good comparison item is a pound of buttons, at the cost of $10.00. In the year 2000, each worker has produced 14,214 pounds of buttons, or each production worker has produced 21,137 pounds of buttons. [60]

When we examine all of the manufacturing industries of the United States put together, we get a much broader image. In total, in the U.S. manufacturing industry, there are 16,651,200 workers (11,942,900 of them production workers), creating shipments worth a total of: $3,985,342,000,000 (nearly four trillion dollars). Each worker produced $239,342.62 worth of shipments, and each production worker produced $333,699.68 worth of shipments. [61] The reason why there is a trend for production workers to be responsible for producing more wealth should be obvious. There is a smaller amount of them, still responsible for producing the same amount of wealth. The reason why I separated them into two groups, showing the difference of wealth they produced, is because one is directly responsible for producing, while the others are not directly responsible. The production workers includes such positions as would be typical in the manufacturing business: assembly line workers (each responsible for their specialization in one aspect of the final product), craftsmen who apply physical labor to objects in order to add value to them (such as a carpenter turning a piece of wood into a chair — though such an example goes back to more primitive technology), and there are other positions of laborers adding wealth to the final product through their labor. Those who do not count as production workers includes an entire different class of laborers: individuals working with management, advertising, human resources department, maybe even a security department. One would reason that to increase profit, income, and productive output, that it would be best to have as many production workers as were necessary to speed up the productive process, and as few managerial or accountant workers as necessary to keep down costs (such as the wages of those individuals). But, this does not happen to always be the case when examining the empirical evidence of the economy. In the computer and electronic product manufacturing industry, there is a total employment of 1,653,000 workers. Of that amount, 853,000 are production employees, and the other 800,000 are non-productive employees. 51.6% of the work force is the actual labor responsible for producing the final product, whereas the other 48.4% are not directly involved production. [62] Of course, this is not the rule, it is rather an exception — one I brought up to demonstrate a valid point, that production workers are not always the largest group of employees. However, when examining other industries of the manufacturing sector, one will see that production workers usually outnumber non-production workers, usually at a rate between 2 to 1 and 8 to 1.

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

The Disappearance of Bobby Krauser

[Another transformation story, I've been having a lot of ideas, so there could still be a lot more stories coming in the following days]

Today might have just been the worst day for Bobby, certainly the worst for a good while. The day had started like any working morning did. Alarm went off at 4am, went to his kitchen to make a coffee, sort out his backpack with food and tools he'd need for the 12 hour shift. He'd been in this routine for 2 and a half years, work was at a factory that made food products for some Belgium-based brand. 48 hours a week he worked per block, four days on, four days off. The pay was good too, even though he was still a temp worker after so long. He'd managed to finally move out of his mother's house at the age of 27 thanks to the money he was earning from the constant work. In many ways it had made his life better, but as a side effect it had made him into a bit of a workaholic.

Bobby had gone to work, same as usual, started working in his section of the factory at 6am, his job was to watch the conveyor belts and set the machines right if something went wrong and the alarms sounded, like a carton getting stuck on a diverter or a cardboard box not being taken off the pile correctly. It was easy since he'd learned all there was to know about the job. Only trouble was he'd tried applying for a full time job over the past year, three times.

During his first work break he sat in the canteen, he was approached by one of his co-workers Kyle. 'Morning Bobby, how are things?' Kyle asked. 'Hey Kyle, I'm good thanks, what's up?' Bobby asked, looking up from his phone. 'So I know you've been wanting that machine operator job for a while now' Kyle began. 'Only for about a year now mate' Bobby chuckled. 'Yeah, see I told a friend of mine about the job… and they've taken him on' said Kyle. Bobby's smile fell at the mention of this. He looked at Kyle. 'I'm really sorry Bobby' stammered Kyle. Bobby sighed and shook his head. 'That's fine I guess, I've only been passed over 3 fucking times now' said Bobby passive-aggressively, looking to his phone. 'Look man, my friend really needed a job and I mentioned it to him' said Kyle nervously. 'And that's fine, really. I'd probably have done the same. Well I can't really do anything about it now can I, this has to be fine' grumbled Bobby, not making eye contact with Kyle. Kyle looked down sheepishly. 'Anyway, I've gotta go. See you around' said Kyle hopefully. Bobby waved his hand and watched Kyle as he left. Bobby sat back in his chair and sighed. 'Fucking hell' he breathed, looking at the ceiling. He looked over at the clock and saw he was needed back in the factory in the next 5 minutes. He packed his stuff up, washed his hands and returned to the factory. The rest of the shift went as average as it could be, around 3pm his team leader, Luke entered the factory and asked Bobby to come with him to one of the meeting rooms. In the room was one of the ladies from the agency he worked for. Bobby and his team leader sat down.

'Right, Bobby. Long story short, we're letting you go' started Luke. Bobby's face sank. 'Why?' asked Bobby, sitting up in his chair. 'We've come to realise you're not happy here' said Luke. 'Luke, I've been here 2 and a half years, I've never been late, if I didn't like it here I'd have found work elsewhere long ago' said Bobby firmly. 'We've also had another applicant for the job you applied for and we've got a really good feeling about him' stated Luke matter-of-factly. 'So you're just going to throw 2 year's training down the toilet for some guy off the street?' asked Bobby, trying not to get over-infuriated. 'Bobby, we're grateful for all you've done for us, but we just don't need you anymore. You can leave straight away, we'll give you a week's pay' said Luke. Bobby looked to the agency lady and back to Luke. This was unbelievable. 'Well can I at least finish my shift today, we clock out in 3 hours and I'd hate to leave my team in the lurch' said Bobby. 'No Bobby, you can leave right now' said Luke firmly. Bobby got the hint, they really were kicking him out the door. 'Susan here will help you find other work, I'm sure you'll be fine at your mother's for now' said Luke. 'I moved out of my Mum's 2 years ago Luke, how do you not know this? You're leaving me in a flat with no secure job future' argued Bobby. 'Oh… well, you'll find something better' said Luke. Bobby rolled his eyes. 'Well, guess I'd better go get my things from the locker room then' said Bobby, getting out of his chair and leaving the room. On his way to signing out, he saw Kyle and decided to busy himself with the clocking machine. 'Bobby, I just heard, I'm really sorry' said Kyle. Bobby looked to Kyle, he really wanted to say what he thought of him, but shook his head. 'It's alright, I just hope your friend's as good as everyone's making him out to be' said Bobby. 'But it's just you have your flat and all' said Kyle. 'And the agency will find me other work, don't worry about me Kyle. That's my job now' said Bobby, and he proceeded to leave the factory building. On his way home he checked his phone, a few of the other factory workers had caught wind of what happened and had messaged him on Facebook. It cheered him up, being asked to keep in touch and them passing on their anger about how Bobby had been handled. But he put his phone away, he needed to do something about this predicament.

Arriving home his first thought was to fire up his computer and print off some CVs, then head into town and look for work. So he put the kettle on and got to work on doing that. He popped a handful in his backpack and headed into town. It was funny, his work life had just vanished, 4 hours ago he had a job, and now here he was keeping an eye out for shop windows that said 'Staff Wanted'. Maybe he could've just gone online and saved some trouble but he just needed some fresh air to clear his head. He stopped by a few shops and supermarkets, those that would accept CVs got one, but most places told him to apply online. It really was a sign of the times, back when he'd started his work career it felt a lot more normal to meet someone in person at a shop and hand them a CV. Approaching one alleyway, he came across a small building that used to be a café that he used to frequent before it shut down about a year ago. The windows were darkened and a sign above it read 'Enrique's Escapist Emporium'. Bobby reckoned this place can't have been open all that long, but there was a 'Staff Wanted' sign on the door and the sign said 'Open' so he shrugged his shoulders. Why not.

Walking inside, he heard a small bell ring as he opened the door. The room beyond was dimly lit, and he could faintly hear a radio playing near where the serving counter was. Squinting, Bobby could see someone sitting there and began to make his way over. The person sitting at the counter was caught up in a crossword, funnily they looked as if they belonged to a gym more than a dainty little shop. They put down their reading glasses and crossword and smiled at Bobby. 'Good afternoon, how can I help you?' they asked. 'Uh, hi. My name is Bob, and I'm looking for a job' said Bobby, smiling. The guy smiled and chuckled. 'Well if that's not the most Quentin Tarantino thing I've heard all day' the guy remarked. 'Have you got a CV on you, Bob?'. Bobby paused for a moment and then took off his backpack, rummaging through it and handing one to the man. Who took it and looked. 'Bobby Krauser' said the man, reading the top of the paper. 'Oh yeah, that's me' said Bobby. It was strange, this person seemed well-mannered and decent, but something was making him feel nervous. Maybe it was the lack of light in the room. 'Have a seat please, Bobby' said the man, gesturing to a small wooden chair. Bobby took a seat and waited in anticipation. 'Oh please, make yourself comfortable. I'll begin your interview shortly' said the man. Bobby took off his backpack and coat and tried to calm his nerves.

'Tell me about yourself then Bobby, you from around here?' the man asked. 'Oh yeah, I was born at the hospital on the other side of town' said Bobby. The man smiled and nodded. 'And you're… 28, 29 maybe?' he asked. 'Yeah, 29. Reaching the big 30 next year' said Bobby, chuckling. The man looked at him and smiled. 'So, you've been a cleaner, a kitchen assistant and a factory worker then?' asked the man. Bobby nodded. 'Oh I also worked at a game shop for a few months, so I did retail for a while' added Bobby. The man nodded and placed the paper down, putting his hands together and taking a good look at Bobby. 'So then Bobby, do you have any questions for me?' he asked. 'Uh, well is your name Enrique? It's just I know the shop sign says Enrique's Escapist Emporium' said Bobby, pointing to the front door. 'Yes that's correct' Enrique smiled. 'Ah, have you had this place long?' Bobby asked. 'We opened a couple of weeks ago, moved from up country but I rarely stay in one place' Enrique answered. 'I see. So what is it you do here exactly?' asked Bobby. 'Here we sell whatever the customer wants' said Enrique vaguely. Bobby looked on confused. 'That seems to be a broad range then' chuckled Bobby nervously. Enrique shook his head. 'Not at all. May I ask you a question, Bobby?' asked Enrique. Bobby thought for a moment. 'Sure, go ahead' said Bobby. 'What do you want?' Enrique asked calmly. 'Well I want a job if you've got one going' replied Bobby, shrugging his shoulders. Enrique chuckled softly. 'I like you Bobby, you're funny. I mean what do you really want, out of life?' he asked. Bobby thought for a moment. 'Take your time' said Enrique reassuringly. 'I… I want to be happy again' said Bobby, looking to the ground. This response made Enrique raise his eyebrows. 'How do you mean, Bobby?' asked Enrique.

'Well, I think in recent years I've become a bit cranky. My last job just let me go a few hours ago. I moved out of my Mum's after years of her telling me I needed to get a proper job, then I needed to get myself a place to live. I just wasted 2 and a half years as a temp worker at a factory, my friends that I have tell me I've become passive-aggressive. I've got a lot going on in life and… I just wish I could be happy, like I was back in school' Bobby lamented. Enrique looked at him sadly. 'Well from what I've seen Bobby, you're funny, friendly and kind-spirited' smiled Enrique. Bobby smiled. 'Thanks Enrique, but you've only just met me. I was here to make a good first impression' said Bobby. 'But you've been genuine. I can tell you've been through a lot, but you seem to bottle that away well' said Enrique observantly. 'So do I qualify to work here then' asked Bobby, trying to bring the conversation back around to the reason he came in. 'I suppose I could take you on, but I feel you're more in need of your happiness first' said Enrique, standing up. Bobby came to realise that Enrique was a pretty tall guy, easily 6'3, towering over his standing height at 5'2. Bobby had the chance to see he had a very muscular build, biceps and triceps galore, he wondered for a moment if Enrique had to turn sideways to get through the front door when he entered the shop. Enrique walked off to the back room, Bobby could hear him rummaging through the shelves. He wondered if he should get out of there, he began to feel nervous again. Their conversation had gone unexpectedly deep. What exactly did Enrique mean by 'giving him his happiness'.

Enrique returned with a small box. 'Sorry to have kept you waiting Bobby, it's still pretty cluttered back there' Enrique chuckled. He placed the box on the counter and sat back down. Bobby and Enrique looked at the box, then Bobby looked to Enrique who was looking at Bobby searchingly. 'Bobby, I'm going to give you a choice and I really want you to think hard about this' warned Enrique. Bobby nodded nervously. Enrique sighed and began. 'Think of this as Pandora's Box, Bobby. Your happiness lies within it, however it comes with a price' said Enrique. 'Oh, just let me get my wallet-' began Bobby jokingly, but Enrique shook his head. 'Bobby, for the short time I've known you, you strike me as a lovely, wonderful person. You are probably loved and cared for by so many people. Even if you don't see it yourself, there are those that genuinely care for you. You open this box and Bobby Krauser ceases to exist. You'll become someone new, you might be happier, but you won't be beloved Bobby anymore' said Enrique ominously. Bobby looked to the box, then back to Enrique. 'And what's the other choice Enrique' asked Bobby, sweating nervously. 'You remain Bobby and continue as Bobby. You may even work here and travel as Bobby. The choice is yours'

Bobby considered his options, a fresh start at life as someone else. He could leave his old life behind, leave everything and everyone he knew. He'd sometimes thought about how if he'd died, he'd love to know who would mourn him. But on the other hand, him actually vanishing would make that thought a reality and he thought of his family, his friends near and far. The alternative was to live as himself and just pray that life magically got better over time. Bobby looked at the box, looked to Enrique and placed his hand on the box. Enrique sighed sadly but nodded in acceptance. 'Very well then, you'd better open the box' said Enrique. Bobby curiously lifted the lid and peered inside. There was a single, dusty purple bottle with a cork in the top. He picked it up, there was no label on it. He looked back to Enrique. 'What is this Enrique?' Bobby asked. Enrique folded his arms and looked to it sadly. 'It's a gel, it'll help you become who you're going to be' said Enrique. He stood up and went to the front door, turning the sign to say 'Closed' and locked the door. 'You'd better come to the back room' Enrique said. Bobby stood up and followed Enrique.

Inside the backroom was a bizarre sight. There were shrines lining the walls with pictures of various nameless people, surrounded by candles and garments that presumably belonged to the framed people. 'People come here seeking escapism, Bobby. Much like yourself. They may not wish to be remembered, but I never forget them' said Enrique, looking around. 'So, when do I stop being me?' Bobby asked. 'That bottle. Remove your clothes and rub it's contents all over your body' said Enrique. Bobby shrugged and did as he was told, removing his shoes, socks, trousers and t-shirt. He opened the bottle and began to rub it's contents all over him. Soon he was all lubed up and glistening in the candle light. He turned to Enrique who had also removed his clothes and gelled himself up. They both looked at each other for a moment. 'Such a beautiful soul. Farewell Bobby Krauser' said Enrique. Bobby looked at him confused. The next thing Bobby knew, Enrique's big, slimy hands grabbed his jaw and prised his mouth open. He moved his right hand into Bobby's mouth and pushed down, to Bobby's surprise, his neck began to expand as Enrique's fist and forearm slid down into his chest. Bobby's knees buckled and he was kneeling on the floor before the giant man. Bobby looked into Enrique's eyes as he placed his left arm into the gaping void that was now Bobby's mouth. The sound of stretching elastic filled the room as Enrique raised a foot and lowered it into Bobby's mouth. The foot and leg snaked down, to fill out Bobby's skinnier leg, making it bloat out three times it's previous size. Bobby was amazed, this was a crazy way to go out. But if he was going to become Enrique, he just knew he was going to love it. Enrique lifted his second leg into Bobby's mouth and moved him around to align with his own body. By now Bobby's feet and legs were darkening, expanding and squeaking, becoming massive. Bobby already had Size 11 feet, but with Enrique invading them, they shot to a ridiculous 18. His legs thickened like tree trunks and Enrique began to pull Bobby's body upwards. As Enrique continued to slide into Bobby's body, everything just got bigger. Bobby's relatively flat ass become like two big watermelons and his already six inch dick became an absolute monster of a serpent with two basketballs hanging below it. His belly compressed against Enrique's impressive washboard abs and his arms became enormous. By now Enrique was nearly entirely inside Bobby, all that was left was to match up the chin and lift his head over his, completing the transformation. Enrique stood in the middle of the room, huffing and panting, an absolute hulk of a man. Skin still bubbling and contorting, Enrique grabbed his dick and began jacking it hard. Picturing Bobby's kind face in his mind, he roared the most animalistic roar as he shot a huge load worthy of several giants. The cum pooled on the floor and began to shape as a new form emerged. A new man was birthed from the warm sludge, he stirred and gasped as he took his first breaths. Enrique stood against the wall panting and sweating as the new man began to explore his tanned body. He was a bit more built than Bobby had been, dare he say even more handsome. The man's eyes were bright with new excitement and amazement. He looked at Enrique, who was starting to look more like how he did before he slipped into Bobby and gave him a hug.

'Enrique, thank you, thank you so much' he cried. Enrique smiled. 'Here is your happiness, as promised' Enrique said. The man smiled at Enrique. 'I think from this day forward I'll go by Gabriel. Always liked that name' said Gabriel. 'Well Gabriel, the world's yours now. Be who you want to be. Go start your new life' said Enrique. He found some clothes out for Gabriel and put back on his own clothes. They both left the backroom and Enrique unlocked the shop door for him. Gabriel felt the wind on his new face and sighed with contentment. He sauntered off and Enrique returned to his shop. He looked to the counter and saw Bobby's backpack and coat. He sighed and picked them up, looking towards the back room. They were mementos now, belonging to a man that no longer existed.

-

A few months have passed since the strange disappearence of Mr. Bobby Krauser. Many have suspected suicide, but no body can be found. Those that remember him hope that he may one day return and remember the best of times they can recall with him. Police managed to find his phone inside an old and long-abandoned café shop that closed a year ago, why it was there is a mystery, though no other leads can be found in this investigation. It has been discovered that Mr. Krauser's bank account had been emptied around 7pm the day he lost his job at a cashpoint within his hometown. It is unknown where Mr. Krauser went following his unjustified suspension from his previous job, but if he's out there still, we hope he has found peace. -DCI G. K. Ralser

[rubirose15]

Man I'm so fucking pissed that food service jobs were considered "essential" during the pandemic yet we're treated like shit. Minimum wage, zero respect, insane workload. And everyone views it as an easy job for teenagers. It's fucking not. Not anymore. It's almost factory work and it's because it HAS TO BE. Demand for fast food has grown exponentially in the last decade, honestly even just the last few years due to the rise of delivery apps from covid. However even though the work is literally designed to be done by a full team of people, there's probably only 2-3 people in the store expected to do the work of 4-7 people. And the GM is up your ass about labor even though your boss has already been cutting hours and you're struggling to run the restaurant because of it. And because of high labor you really can't get more than 25 hrs/week. So. Find a second job if you even have time I guess.

I'm just. You have to work with extremely hot oil, heavy machinery, those heavy fucking soda bibs. It's a lot of bending over and lifting heavy objects. A lot of shoulder movement. And you're standing for 4-8 hours at a time. And then you have to talk to customers who don't even see you as a person. Even the nice ones.

The nature of the job is so repetitive and overstimulating. The kitchen is burning hot, the fryers are always hissing or humming, the noise of the printer is so mechanical and jarring, and everyone is yelling for one reason or another. Again these jobs are seen as being for TEENAGERS.

Then on top of that you have to pay attention to the front counter and answer calls. Many stores only have one person on register for cash tracking purposes, and this person is very likely to also be helping prepare and package orders. Again, 2-3 people doing the work of 4-7. It's stressful when you're the only one packing orders and there's a line of people in the front and your only options are to make them wait or abandon your current task.

Ugh, and don't even get me started on coffee shops. The standards set for quick service restaurants like St*rbucks are almost impossible to achieve. Coffee is supposed to take fucking time to make. It's not meant to be pumped out en masse in under 2 minutes. And then it has like all the above problems except the oil, but I have burned myself on portafilters and steam wands.

I don't even know what my point is anymore. Just fucking respect your food service workers. I'm sick of people being like "just do your job. I worked at x in high school and it wasn't that bad." I'm so happy for you. But food service isn't even the same as it was 5 years ago. It's really difficult to remain positive and enjoy your job when your job just hates you so fucking much.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

"Rise and shine!"

The voice was shrill, needling almost, it dug into Zeb's dreams like fingernails into flesh and tore him free of his slumber.

His eyes opened slowly, grit grinding underneath his lids as if he'd used a sandstorm for a pillow.

The barracks at the Weather Factory were bare bones to say the least, gray concrete rooms buried deep somewhere in the facility's guts, safe from any storm or catastrophe short of the building falling out of the sky where it hung.

Zeb had been there 3 days in accordance with his sentence and he knew deep down that he would never get used to... all of this.

The Knights had told him that Fairyland, as a concept, was wholly unnatural but he'd never understood just HOW unnatural that was. Weather, and the movement of celestial bodies like the moon and sun, had to be done MANUALLY or else the entire planet would collapse under the weight of its own stupidity.

Zeb sat up in his bunk and rubbed a hand down his face and then stared at his palms. His nails were longer now, more claw-like and just as black as the rest of his arms. It made him feel inhuman, more than inhuman, or less than inhuman?

He didn't feel like a person anymore, just a Thing slowly being devoured by something else that he couldn't stop.

He slipped on his gloves and shoved the thought as far out of his mind as he could, and then he got dressed for the day. A Factory Worker's uniform wasn't flashy, it was a jumpsuit and good boots and a hardhat, with a hair net underneath. Sure the boots had wings at their ankles that fluttered nervously as he tugged them on, but that was apparently necessary for walking on clouds and stuff.

"You're with the Sky Painter today!" Said the needling voice, a sort of dandelion fluff pixie creature with a clipboard no bigger that his thumbnail was perched on Zeb's shoulder. "She's really nice, I promise."

He didn't reply, choosing to shove a protein bar into his mouth instead. Human food was hard to come by this far off the ground, but Jack had packed him a suitcase full of snacks before he'd left and it was the only thing keeping him alive right now. He wouldn't eat fairy food, ever, if he could have one thing left from his old life it would be never ever letting fairy food touch his tongue as long as he lived.

The walk from the barracks to the Sky Painter's studio was longer than he'd expected, taking several twists and turns past the snowflake cutters and the storm wranglers, and a detour through the cloud shapes department where Zeb accidentally ran face first into a tiger made of rain clouds and got soaked.

The Sky Painter didn't seem to mind the soggy little boy suddenly standing in her studio. An odd sort of creature with big ears and kind eyes and a long tail like a living paint brush. She swiped hands and tail across a huge canvas and dotted it with the fading stars of a bleeding dawn, edged by timid rain clouds, one shaped like a tiger.

Zeb watched her work for what felt like a long time, changing the sky from bloody morning hues to the soft blues of pre-noon, to the golden glow of high noon, slowly fading into an ashy gray that heralded oncoming storms.

"Could you give me a hand?" The Sky Painter said finally, glancing at Zeb. "I'm almost out of black."

Zeb glanced around until his eyes fell on a huge jar sloshing with black liquid, he hoped was paint. He hefted it in his arms and carried it to the canvas.

A pair of wide white eyes opened in the depths of the black paint bottle, startling Zeb hard enough to shriek. The eyes stared at him wordlessly as the Sky Painter dipped her brush tail in the black paint and swiped it across the canvas in a great arc that she blended with white until a perfect shade of stormy gray was achieved. The black paint moved in its bottle, bubbling and boiling out the top until it formed something like a head with two wide white eyes that blinked and stared. The Sky Painter patted the living paint tenderly and wiped the resulting handprint on her smock. "That's my Kid, don't worry they don't bite… no teeth and all that." The Sky Painter then took the bottle and upturned it, giving it a single firm shake when nothing happened.

The Kid fell out of their bottle with a thump and slowly organized their fluid shape into something resembling a person with two arms and two legs and a brush tail like their Painter.

"Break time, go on now." Shooed the Painter.

The Kid stood and threw on a much stained sweater with sleeves that dragged the ground. They scampered away in no particular direction, leaving inky paw prints in their wake that vanished after a few seconds.

Zeb watched them go, his brain suddenly feeling liquid in his skull.

The Sky Painter retreated to a corner of her studio surrounded by drop cloth curtains, pulling them back to reveal a little apartment stashed away in the shadows. She washed her hands and put the kettle on to boil before pulling lunch out of the fridge. Zeb heard the telltale plap plap plap of the Kid's liquid footsteps behind him and glanced back to see them being chased across the studio by an irate looking Ray of Sunshine.

The Sky Painter seemed unbothered by this, so Zeb tried to be too as he sat down at the little table and ate more of his snacks while the Painter ate cloud roast sandwiches and drank tea.

"So, I feel like you have questions." Said the Painter in between bites of sky fish and cloud roast.

"Where do you get your paints?" Said Zeb, suddenly wondering if all her paints were alive like the Kid.

"Oh anywhere really, it depends on the day. Sometimes they're donated emotions, or the favorite hues of my patrons, or colors that only exist in the deepest dark where nothing has eyes to view them." She took a long sip of her tea. "Or I get them on from Hobby Lobby when they have a sale."

Zeb snorted without meaning to, and watched the Sky Painter grin. Every tooth in her mouth was a different color.

More wet footsteps came from up behind Zeb and he watched The Kid grab a sandwich, sitting on the ground to eat it. He expected eating would be difficult for them if they had not teeth like the Painter said, but the Kid seemed to manage just fine, opening a mouth in their otherwise featureless face and taking 'bites' of the sandwich like a normal person would.

Crumbs floated in their paint for a bit before sinking out of sight, they dusted off their sweater and stood up again, ready to get into more shenanigans.

The Kid waved a limb, or what Zeb presumed to be a limb (it was hard to tell with how amorphous the Kid was. Despite this, he waved back politely and turned back to the Sky Painter.

"I painted them too you know, sort of by accident." The Sky Painter poured herself another cup of tea. "One misplaced swipe of my brush later and boom, I'm a Mama."

The Kid scuttled across the art studio with purpose, diving headlong into a pile of empty paint containers and coming back out with a fairly large jar stuck over their top half. Zeb watched them wander off back the way they came as if this new hat of theirs was a regular occurrence.

…knowing them it probably was.

[lamentingocean]

Sword Demon 7/11 Worker X Rich Reader

•---------------------------‐---------------------------------•

Warning: , pet calling, a bit of NSFW (daily dose of that sweetness) a bit of bullying and stupid fucking customers.

~Work made by Ocean~

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

I graduated high school and turned into a billionaire by the time I started my own business. I didn't apply for college at the time since college seems to be a farce to most graduates. most people say that college is hell. but it's an optional school to go to as a young adult. it's a school of hell but also a school of extra learning to survive in life. to most people who don't want to learn to survive life tend to insult school like it's an abusive parent on the internet, while the people who do want to be successful embrace the hardship, and stress that school has. I have nothing against those kinds of people, but I developed a superiority complex to my immense wealth. It really isn't a problem to me since I choose to post as a threat to most rich people around my area.

you know what I hate the most...? The kind of people that have their entire eating cycle around a convenience store as they don't know how to get a pack of Mac and cheese and just make a meal instead. I eat steak while all these other commoners eat canned pasta that is probably processed in a factory, giving you cancer the best that it can. I hate those kind of people.

Eating at fancy restaurants is one thing but seeing homeless people rob a store for a pack of gummies is hilariously pathetic to me as a rich person with a million dollar house, a expensive car, and even butlers to serve under me. so I had a bit of a curiosity attack in my mind.

I wanted to walk into those convenience stores and eat a small meal. to see into the eyes of what these commoners eat to mince their hunger into nothing but bites. Ravioli, chips, 7/11 pizza, and breakfast items. this is so curious to me as a rich person that I might consider living a normal life instead of giving myself a terrible impression around people. To think I'm a "snarky, cocky, money bathed, selfish brat" these commoners probably eat good. or they eat terribly. it's hard to tell what people eat these days to stay alive. nobody wants to die from starvation. so I go to my car. it opened automatically if I pressed a button of its very own app.

and then the doors open by themselves. that's crazy. I need to explore how these commoners live in terms of food. So.. I drive to this nearby 7/11 just for an experiment. I pull up, open the door to automatically get the musky sound of a dirty mop, freezer frost, and cardboard pizza heated up. my nose scrunched in disgust to the smell. I also wasn't used to the expansion of cancer snacks. a monotone sounding voice shook me to the core while I was looking at the drinks. it's a gray haired man with a scar.

sleep-deprived, looks like he hates his job, but also.. really attractive with his small beard right on his chin. but I also see a woman with a boy who looks seven years old. I kinda look ridiculous with all this fancy fit on. I grabbed a small drink with alcohol until a shrill scream shook me. AGAIN.

it's the kid crying to her mom about his obsession with hot wheels and the mom arguing to that attractive looking guy. "I want my money back! how dare you insult my child just because he wanted a free toy from the store..this is discrimination!"

"Lady. your child literally came to me ill-mannered and ORDERED me to give him a free toy. this isn't discrimination. this is bad parenting idiot." her gasp rumbled the entire earth to that blunt response.

acting like her parenting style is made of the stuff of legends.

"I will be suing! He's only a little boy growing up to be a fine young man with proper education. you should treat him with respect!"

"Lady... does it look like I give a damn. get out of the store if you are so angry about your ill-mannered child geez. I have a lot of my mind anyway."

she left with such an aroma of anger. while I snickered in the back after what happened. meanwhile, all I see in the candy aisle is nerds gummy clusters, reeses, m&ms, peach gummies. My eyes start to shine at the vast expansion of the amount of candies that present themselves in front of my very eyes. I slowly grasp my hand to the peach gummies since I can imagine the sweet, sugary powder of this sweet treat. the price is 4 dollars in total. It's like I explored a whole other world while i was stuck being my isolated richness. I guess it isn't that terrible as I make it out to be in my own mind. once I finished reminiscing at all these delicious looking candies. I've come to pay at the cash register to this guy with a dirty work apron on. what a way to greet a new customer. so I need to inflict some revenge onto him just for a dirty apron to my rich fur coat made by the most beautiful animals in the world. I threw my items at his face until it fell right in front of the register, smirking at how his expression didn't change a bit. his emotionless state is like glass art, beautiful but simply hard to shatter. he spoke in words with a small drop of irrationality.

"Will that be all for today, ma'am/ sir..?" my voice spoke in a snotty accent, trying to get him mad a little but also see who you really are just by the physical appearance, I whip out 5 dollars from my pocket, feeling underwhelmed how a mere 5 dollars can be in the hands of a millionaire. I gave it to him with an evil smirk spreading across my face like the smile movie. "Yes, dirt-bag." I scan his movements, watch, and analyze as he checked out the items just for the price to pop up on a small screen right at the top of the register. my eyes rose up to look at his sleep-deprived eyes that can even make an energetic person sleep in a matter of seconds. it riled me up a bit just by glancing at them for seconds and seconds until my voice spoke up again in that same snotty accent.

"Hey...can I get your number...?"

"why."

"Just to see how embarrassing you are to desperately have ME as a friend. It's probably for money. are you really that stupid?"

his eyes rolled in a small growing bit of annoyance in his mood, talking back to me in his normal voice to possibly keep his composure.

"I didn't even do anything."

I can sense he is keeping his composure, I need to strike more personality into him.

"hmph. give me my food shit bucket. you probably have depression do you? acting so emotionless and so dry around people that I can even get a bit tired of talking to you. you probably have a sad life. how unfortunate.."

I threw the 5 dollar bills right in front of his face and then snatched the items back to my hands. snickering at his annoyance since I can sense it from afar. but something he did surprised me to the bitter core. He took out a small piece of old recipient paper from an old restaurant, wrote his number on it, and gave it to me without a single care in the world. I guess my strike didn't work against him. I was reminiscing about it so bad that his next words made me flinch out of that reminiscent space I was trapped in for the last 20 seconds. "Call me if you want something. I don't give a shit if you are a rich person. a friend is a friend. got it..? Good."

That genuinely made me brush a period of blood red, I stared at him for a couple of seconds before he could go to the back to talk to his manager. my eyes kept aiming at his body and his face. his gray eyes with eye bags... his luscious thin body, his scar.. I was having so many dirty thoughts about a person I just met that I started to scream so loud like a idiot. I think he liked me too? does he? or does he not or just did it for trickery? either way.. I want to go home and think about this a little more. Is this love at first sight?

I drive home after a lot while overthinking. to be honest, overthinking isn't a fun thing to have. especially when you think of the worst-case scenario when it comes to certain inconveniences that happened small. I started to believe that having all this power or having all this money is nothing compared to a normal aesthetic life getting crepes to eat on a food market street. using money to boost happiness. people say that money can't buy happiness.

that's a goddamn lie. if you can't buy roses for your girlfriend, then what is she supposed to be happy about when she is met with no gift on a first date with a lover. money does buy happiness. money is control, money is everything to us. dispite money being the dirtiest thing on earth. money is also an evil addictive subtance as well that can destroy multiple people's lives with it. There is no doubt that it can. but all of this money I have isn't worth it.. After exploring a convenience store for the first time in my life. I actually had a different feel of life. I know it isn't that serious, but it is. I actually want to experience the life that you can have a gaming pc and a small kitchen, but you can enjoy that type of lifestyle.

my overthinking is getting worse. I arrive home to automatically grab my phone and type in that man's number. Once I got done. I texted him immediately.

Me: Yo. are you here dirt bag or are you wallowing in depression?

maybe I shouldn't be too harsh, but it's so fun to bully a commoner a little bit. I waited for 3 and a half minutes just to send a dry text back like I'm his buddy.

Sword demon: No, Im not. what do you mean, bruh?

Me: Why did you give me your number in the first place, pukey pig?

I was honestly really curious to see what he's going to say. God, why am I so invested in only a convenience store worker? it's like putting a sex drug onto someone's drink and then they want the fuck any man they see in their vision.

Sword demon: I was simply invested in you, too. You are too predictable. I can literally sense that you were trying to get me mad idiot.

Me: Who are you calling a idiot?! Packaged Ramen eating emo.

my blush couldn't leave my face. my hands were trembling like a vibrator to his "investment into me." I was heated but also melted into the ground to that words.

Sword demon: Do you want me to come over or something? send me your address, yk rich people aren't that hard to find around these parts.

Me: why?"

Sword demon: I can bring roses if you want..

Me: pfh as if you have the money to buy roses for me you lousy pet-

Sword demon: im being serious.

my blush grew more red, red, and red, reading his messages 5 times in a row.. but eventually, I gave in and typed in my address.

Sword demon: I can even bring chocolates.

Me: Are you trying to flirt with me? It isn't for money... right?

Sword demon: no. I wouldn't do that. I'm not money hungry. I just need it to survive.

Me: Fine. just...bring some chocolates.

I was opening up to him a little since I kept being mean to him for no reason. for some reason. I can't bring myself to hate a commoner like him, but I'm pretty sure love can't always be based around a person's life. He suddenly got offline just to come to me. but if that's the case. I started to be a blushing mess to his approach.

it took many minutes to waste precious time overthinking about one man, so I decided to shower for it. my mind is so scrambled for a guy I just met. a rich person doesn't waste their time upon people, so why am I so vulnerable? just an employee in a small food store, so it's annoying to think about. my body is being cloaked with soap due to my mind being drizzled by the hot water. my mind is bubbling due to the amount of thoughts I had in one day. my naked body started to have an entire sex thought rampage over this man. I stared at it even more, having hallucinations of having his body against mine in the shower as we make out, fucking, and just sucking him off.

I fell on the floor, having soap get in my eyes just enough to snap me out of my overthinking sexual mindset. it's so weird. but eventually, I stood up to apply my perfume on my skin and put on my fancy clothes just to look good. I always look good for people. maybe im just a people-pleaser. I went down to my kitchen to grab a cake to eat in my free time, I hear the doorbell ring and my face sparked in happiness to see this man bringing me chocolates for just killing off my loneliness.

I ran to open the door and there he was. a box of chocolates on his right hand, a fresh set of roses on his left hand, and that same dim emotionless expression in his face. but for some reason. I didn't even try to bark at him with my attitude as my spit. trying to take note of a feral dog. it didn't piss me for some reason. I was actually happy about his appearance right in front of me. It's not because he's attractive, but his calm, cold aura is starting to comfort me a little.

"I was trying to decide if you do want the roses. it's probably too blunt or rude of me. But I also couldn't decide what kind of chocolates you like so I just got the expensive kind. for your taste.."

he had the heart-shaped box full of little small chocolate bites. I could see the price tag on there having an estimated cost of 300 dollars. and the roses weren't fake either. they weren't roses fished out of a grocery store. they were real because of the thorns and the lingering scent seducing my nose to smell them even more. and that completely broke my avoidance for him.

I suddenly hugged him right in the chest, with the way he was looking when I slowly squeezed his body. He was surprised, and that broke his emotionless state to other people. A small, genuine smile started to grow on his face as he hectic towards laying his hands on my body. He slowly put the stuff down and wrapped his arms to my waist. His touch is soft but a bit hard at the same time. his scent is kinda like a mix between lilac and soft vanilla with a hint of slight cologne. and his arms were strong but tender. my head slowly grasped to look up at him, sliding my face across his chest to look at him. his smile made my heart get crushed by the God cupid himself.

his breath is so warm, and our eyes directed at each other in such a close range. even I saw a little blush stare to form on his face when my own face moved closer to his. I kept losing it to him for the entire day, and now I'm completely losing my own attitude directly in front of him. it's like revealing an intimate side to myself that didn't even know existed. but also soon as I flipped back to reality again.

I pushed him off and grabbed the gifts a stupidly rude way. "You are now my pet. you must do what I say, or you won't be coming back here ever again."

"I don't know. It seems like you were into me for a second...are you? I won't mind if you are attracted to me. for real..I really wouldn't mind."

"No! No. I was just...directing my attention to you from a TV show."

"Sureeee..."

my face turned a bubblegum red again to my next words, and my own mind betrayed me into saying this.

"Do you...want to watch a movie and share chocolates together..?"

"Sure. Why not?"

(Sweetest x reader I wrote in a while, that's for sure)

[theothergueck]

alr im gonna finally do the lore about these costumes i made for my friends but ill first get into what they are as a whole

These guys are basically forms some players decided to take for fun, these players can shapeshift into whatever they want so they can add changes to this form whenever they want

They have certain things in their appearance that also describes them as a person, depicting the things they like or dislike in the form of accessories, body deformities, etc

Also since they are players they are gonna have powers, Heres a main list of their starter pack, some other abilities can be removed or added if you want

Flight, mind control(whether it be in the form of hypnosis, brain chips, parasites, etc) possession, enhanced durability, strength, and speed((which can be upgraded))

Most of these players work for a factory that helps reproduce starter forms for upcoming players, some players work on their own while others work in groups, each group gaining their own office to share in the large factory, this factory also produces a life source for these new players by making fictional characters suffer and extracting 'plot' from them(which can produce a drug similar to steroids for players) here is a list of the main group roles

Patrol/security guard(since the factory is similar to a large prison)

mechanics/engineers(r they the same thing btw pls tell me)

Technicians

Navigators

Pilots

Surgeons/doctors

Blacksmiths/gunsmiths(or just forger)

Marksmen/assasins

(and many more)

Some cant take the bloodshed and do more simple work like feeding the players with 'content' (or regular food) or help give the more hostile workers mental ground by giving them free therapy!! :D (this is still a work in progress so i might add more)

These guys are silly but also very violent with characters that try to escape or whichever character have to capture

These players can also gain stackable stats by certain emotions they feel, like for example parasite, whos skin becomes more durable to certain weaponry depending on how much fear they feel

And also the hostile forms, which makes them much stronger than their original form, so much so that it would be impossible for a reality bending character to defeat them and stuff(cuz u know, players, but u can change this!!)

I think there was more i wanted to add but i forgot it, so take this lanky paragraph, i might give some fun facts about parasite(my costume/player) later

(@keyelan @iamindebt thanks for the motivation i might add you to this)

[mintymemesandrpshop]

Tips from a grocery worker/foodsafe certified waiter!

The temperature 'danger zone' for food and drink is 40-140F, with 2 hours being the limit without refrigeration/cooking.

Open container, Public Intoxication, and Driving Under Influence are all separate broken laws. Establishments that serve alcohol in the US are required to cut you off the moment you are visibly drunk. 'Open container' can also be a misnomer and vary by state- bottles and cans in anything less than a glued blox may need to be in a bag.

Raw flour has E. Coli bacteria, factory farmed eggs will have salmonella due to poor hygiene (sitting in their own shit).

Speaking of eggs, grocery eggs are 2 weeks old due to needing to properly settle to a baking standard. Eggs from a local farmer may be safer, but will also be somewhat different and not have enough air for baking until they are also that age.

Steak is safe to eat rare due to its thickness and proximity away to any nasties in the body waste; hamburger is not. Burger is ground up with various cuts and intestines so needs to be cooked properly well done. Chickens are too small to have this effect, so salmonella is a risk no matter what. Pork is somewhat in between, as there is a risk for trichinosis, but the larvae are much easier to spot, making this start to go extinct in domestic pigs.

Dogs and Cats in general cannot have spices or seasonings, grapes, chocolate, or milk.

Most creatures are lactose intolerant due to the fact that they will not grow up into 1000 lb animals. Goats however, are closer to human size so their milk and cheese is more digestible. Smaller animals will need dilluted goat's milk, into a custom formula. (your grocery store may have this in a can, powdered.)

Pasta noodles mainly exist to hold sauce flavor in proportion; thicker noodles like rotini are usually recommended for thicker sauces such as tomato/marinara.

It is safer for pizza chefs to not wear gloves, actually! Gloves cannot be washed, only changed, and they are trained anyways to not touch someone's food once cooked. Cooking trays/pans, industrial sized knives, spatulas, and boxes all make this possible.

Humans are very dense and weighty creatures proportionally, that they can essentially tank a lot of poison damage that other animals cannot. This is one of many reasons we are not picky eaters as a whole!

Kids instinctively dislike bitter foods due to not having grown up into this said tankiness; vegetables and things that may be good for them can taste like poison, and they cannot tell the difference yet.

Electric Kettles are more efficient at boiling water than stovetops. I'll let the video guy speak for himself, but they boil water directly rather then heating a pot/pan which then heats the water. This is great for things such as small meals, partially unclogging drains, or heating bathwater.

Keurig or similar machines do not boil the water for your coffee! They heat to 100 degrees, so if your town has a boil order up, do not pour unboiled water into their tanks!

Large packs of water and soda often have bar codes on the top- you may not have to lift them if a laser-gun can get involved!

chicken nuggets from the golden arches are beer battered, the way fish are. They're fish-fried chicken.

Grocery Register Belts can have some really dumb design- with the computer /register itself taking up half the width of the goddamn belt. Keep your food safer by loading the belt heavy to light if you can- or light to heavy. Also, putting your food in a straight line towards the checker. You cannot trust the infared camera to stop the belt unless your items are opaque- your beer will crush your bananas in front of them unless they can slide over the scanner zone. You will prefer a fixable scan error until we can perform alchemy.

Fruits and Vegetables have 4 digit international trade codes! unless you know what breed your apple is or are bad with numbers, these are probably easier to input if you happen to be ringing these up yourself. It is perfectly possible for a self-check system to sell you the wrong kind. Same thing with the numbers on a bar code- they also work, if your code is faded or corrupted. (or, for whatever fucking reason a brand decides, light colors like silver, or cute shapes. those suck. looking at you, bud fucking weiser with your fucking ribbon.) The laser guns are a bit more accurate than the belt as a second resort.

[moremintysmores]

Poppy playtime not human theory

Guys like do you guys wonder if we the main character isn't human it something that's been on my mind lately but there thongs I wanted to point out that might make this theory make sense.

Unlike Henry from Batim he has a name a voice and a identity he can eat beacon soup.

But we don't have a name a voice or and a identity we never seen eating or drinking heck we never seemed worried bringing any food or water the moment we arrive at the factory and for a worker who work at playtime 10 years earlier or even longer we can do amazing parkcor stunt around the factory if we were realistically older we would break our legs or hips or back.

And if you think it not like the scientist couldn't make a hyper realistic human sized doll if they have the tool and knowledge after all look at mrs. Delight she almost close to being human aside from her face and her arm joints.

I mean we must look so much like a human that not only convince the adults but the bigger body toys to but why we were made is the question that I don't have a answer to ...I don't know if we're created souly by the scientists image or were based off a dead person that's up for speculation but what I will say is that were always told that were very capable but what could that be are we good at using the grab pack parkcoring around the factory with ease killing the bigger body toys.

or are we just good at doing what we're told.

If we remember playtime co want to make many bigger body's so they don't need ti worry about losing cost or people getting to suspicious so in a since making a toy like human who will obey them or wouldn't need to leave wouldn't be a stretch for them to do and we must be the only one though since we're the only one who made it out alive rather we were told to leave by someone or something or we left on or own choice but that unlikely since we decided to go back 10 years later somehow who ever sent the note knew were we lived and sent this out to use wanting use to came back .

Are character must had known what been going on duo to the nightmare they had in chapter 3 but they couldn't do anything since they couldn't leave they were playtime co property if they go against the rules they'll be punished so maybe they started listening to the prototype they may have help the toys set up the hour of joy and while the toys were killing we were told to leave until all of the toy have died.

leaving the toys from all 3 chapter are left alive and that were we come in and finish the job and put an end to the children suffering.

But thier will be a choice to continue listening to the the prototype or listen to poppy it all up to you now.

[star-pound-star]

ICE Raids on US Farms Leaves Crops Rotting - Newsweek

ICE Raids on US Farms Leaves Crops Rotting - Newsweek https://share.google/5U31OMjR8LRu70asu

Immigration enforcement operations on farms have left crops rotting and farm operations disrupted in major agricultural states including California, Texas, and Pennsylvania.

Farm owners and industry representatives report that up to 70 percent of workers stopped reporting to work following Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) actions, resulting in significant crop losses and financial strain.

"We do not have enough workforce in the United States to do manual work, to do those jobs that other people are not qualified to do and do not want to do it," Alexandra Sossa, CEO of Farmworker and Landscaper Advocacy Project, told Newsweek. "For example, we are running into a problem where we do not have enough farm workers to grow the food we eat every day.

"Now we do not have enough workers to go to the meatpacking processing industries and factories to produce, to pack the food that we are eating."

[offpagebloggers]

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