#Returning to a Former Employer

[handoferis]

Where's that screenshot where it's like "I've been sober for 5 days 💪" and someone commented U prolly jus broke... That's me

[aroguexenolith]

Kinda funny that W-2s still go out by mail every year, even though now everyone just goes and grabs the digital copies.

BUT this is because the IRS is not playing around about a worker’s right to get their W-2 (or 1099).

You get a paper copy sent to you because your employer is legally obligated to, unless they get your explicit consent to only receive it digitally. These paper copies must be either in your hands or at least postmarked by 1/31.

The only excuse for not getting you your tax forms is something like unforeseeable natural disaster.

Losing access to the system they paid you out of does not count. You having issues accessing the online system is THEIR problem, and they have to work to give you access.

You have the rights here—not your employer.

[nochangeintheplan]

Another update; it continues. The problems I've been having with my workplace have extended far past their due date, and a lot of things have been thrown off course due to the way things are panning out right now. I didn't get to clear up my schedule like I expected, so now am running into other obligations I'd already agreed to before all of this.

I'll probably be offline and away from any social media, save to post on Tojo Suggestion Box (my ray of sunshine in this) and respond to any inquiries about the Kirin Mine Plushie on Ko-fi. Otherwise, I really won't be seeing anything anyone sends me/tags/etc.

For the suggestion box, expect a few more 'downtime' easy question asks before I launch back into y3 chapters kfhd

Thank you guys so much for supporting me and engaging with my blog, and to everyone I've gotten to talk to in the yakuza fandom. It really has and continues to make my day <3!

UPDATE CINTIQ PEN IS BROKE WHY MUST I SUFFER

Half Hiatus, mostly just clarification. Putting it under the cut so it wont clog feeds.

If it isn't evident already my schedule has been pretty rough lately as my IRL job's (ew) workload has gotten heavy and won't be easing up for a little while. I probably won't be online near as often so I can't particularly get to asks or DMs folks have been sending in. I know I already have a lot of asks on the backburner for months, but just an update that more immediate questions probably wont be answered now either.

I will still be keeping up with:

Kirin Mine Plushie (obv). Anyone who has bought one of the Kirin-Mine plushies has my business email! Questions about the manufacturing progress, shipping, etc, can be sent to me there or asked on Ko-fi. I should be getting an update from the manufacturer soon; shot them an email asking for a progress update.

Tojo Suggestion Box. Weekly updates on the suggestion box until FOREVER MARCH is completed. There may be a stall here and there, but I'm fully committed to finishing this out. There's a TON of asks that I've gotten for this that I do not have the time or space to address since the Y3 plot timeline is so densely packed, but I do have some plans after FOREVER MARCH is over.

Any prior commissions. Self explanatory.

After everything's done man I'm excited to finish a lot of the sketches I have and just flood this blog with them lmao. There's like a billion little half finished Mine and Daigo drawings and comics sitting around in my files (Kirin Mine AUs beloved...) as well as some other projects I really want to get to.

Thank you to everyone for all the messages and interaction, I really do appreciate it even if I'm not able to answer everything right now!

[anarchywoofwoof]

Party City is closing down all of its stores, ending nearly 40 years in business, CNN has learned. CEO Barry Litwin told corporate employees Friday in a meeting viewed by CNN that Party City is “winding down” operations immediately and that today will be their last day of employment. Staff were told they will not receive severance pay, and they were told their benefits would end as the company goes out of business. “That is without question the most difficult message that I’ve ever had to deliver,” Litwin said at the meeting, which was held on a video conference call.

16,000 people fired effective immediately. 5 days before Christmas.

well. wait. not immediately. you still need to finish your shift. oh and also, sorry, but no severance. and no continuation of benefits.

Party City’s product development team was recalled two weeks ago from its yearly trip with vendors and told to return home immediately, according to a former Party City corporate office employee, who wished to remain anonymous because they were not authorized to speak to the media. The team was told the company believed the trip posed a safety risk, because Party City had stopped paying its suppliers.

oh and uhhh... you're gonna want to get back here immediately because if you stay on that company sponsored trip for another day, someone might break your legs to collect on our debts.

what?? what's your question?? how did this happen?? uhhh.. well.. *shuffling papers frantically* there were a combination of volatile and unpredictable market factors that uhhh... inflation really.... the pandemic....

Forbes reported that Party City was thriving before the pandemic. The company saw a decline in consumer demand, however, after a helium shortage during the pandemic impacted the company's ability to sell its popular party balloons. Steve Mandell, who founded the company back in 1986, blamed the chain's implosion on the lack of deals and variety at its store, claiming that problems began after private equity executives locked the business into a large supply deal, sourcing nearly 80% of its supply from a manufacturer owned by the firm, per The Post.

oh... erm... yeah ok i admit there was a teeny weensy bit of profit seeking. but that's capitalism, right?!

[txttletale]

Hi! So I have been seeing your posts talking about AI art and tbh it has made me reconsider my stance that was admittedly very reactionary and I was wondering if you could clarify something you said "the sooner people give up on luddite dead end pursuits of turning back the clock to more indivualized production the sooner they can put their energy into productive working class organizing. " Does this mean as in artists genuinely starting to recognize themselves as part of the working class and forming "collectives" and working as such? Or is it in the sense that art as a career will always inherently be part of the petite bourgeoisie? I hope I worded this correctly I am genuinely interested in hearing your thoughts as it has helped me rethink my stances thank u!! :)

the former! there's nothing about being an artist that automatically makes you petit bourgeoise (even if that is a common aspirational vision, most working artists are straightforwardly proletarian & doing work-for-hire projects, animating trolls 7: return of the trolls or desigining ui elements for FIFA 27--when i say 'productive working class organizing', i mean in their capacity as working artists, i'm not doing some kind of 'get a real job' routine.

for an exmaple of what effective working class organizing can look like for artists, look at the recent SAG-AFTRA agreements. instead of hoping that yelling at people on the computer would make the technology magically go away forever, they levered their industrial action to extract concessions about its use, including requiring the consent of actors to recreate their likeness digitally and requiring actors to be paid for the appearances of that likeness.

similarly, the WAG strike resulted in an agreement under which studios can't edit already written scripts with AI or produce scripts with AI and demand that an uncredited human edit them. these are actual, practical concessions extracted from employers that preserve working conditions and livelihoods. these are good political aims worth fighting for! but as you quote me saying, they are achieved through organized industrial action and not through shouting at twitter users innit

[wilwheaton]

Like Trump, Ross is also no stranger to controversy. He’s hosted Nick Fuentes, the antisemite and white supremacist, and Andrew Tate, a former kickboxer facing charges of rape and sex trafficking in Romania. Trump too has hosted Fuentes, at a dinner at Mar-a-Lago in 2022 (Fuentes was a guest of fellow antisemite Kanye West, who is now being sued for mistreating workers and for sexual harassment, yet whom Trump described to Ross as having “a good heart”). But the biggest overlap is their respective fan bases: predominantly white, aggrieved, disaffected young men with Gulf of Mexico–size reserves of anger toward women. As Jonathan Haidt discusses in his recent book, The Anxious Generation, many of these young men grew up attached to screens and never developed the social skills to communicate with employers or women. Many are incels, addicted to porn and video games. (Ross himself was banned from Twitch after visiting the site PornHub while livestreaming the Super Bowl.) Threatened by diversity and the elevation of women in the workplace and society, they yearn for a return to a world of male domination. Many are also racist and antisemitic and hold extreme right-wing political views. So it is no surprise that they gravitate toward the only presidential ticket that represents their views. We might take inspiration from Tim Walz and call them “weirdcels.”

Trump Is Going All in on Weird, Lonely Young Dudes Who Hate Women

[enihk-writes]

[someone older]

pairing: older!multi-fandom men x gn!they/them!reader

reader is written to be in their early twenties, under twenty-five and fresh out of uni with their first degree and no corporate work experience.

summary: shorts about old men and a younger beau to-be

content warning: big age-gap relationships // superior-subordinate power imbalance // possible infantilization // some form of saviour-complex // (some unintentional) manipulation

characters: zhongli (genshin impact) // neuvilette (genshin impact) // jing yuan (honkai star rail) // tang gunak (return of the blossoming blade) // dokgo (return of the mad demon) // chongyue (arknights) // shamane (RE:1999) // hiromi higuruma (jujutsu kaisen) // ryū (gokurakugai)

author's note: my lovely oomfs i need yall to look away and pretend im doing okay,,, the demons and the little voices in my head have won and taken over..... i have to make that middle-aged man pregnant so so so so bad it's terminal... (head in hands)... OUGHHHHKKKGSHHH (coughs blood and straight up dies)..... looking at the list here i really have a type huh....

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

ZHONGLI who had lived for long enough to have seen and experienced almost everything one could see, was still taken aback when he felt a familiar throb in his heart as he conversed with the new face of the artisan's alley. a fledgling who had just left their nest and was beginning to make their way into the world — your naivety much unlike your more seasoned neighbours who knew how to set the prices of their goods to gain the maximum profit. you were often tricked and scammed out of selling your wares at their proper price, too scared to stand your ground and disrespect your older customers. the former archon couldn't bear to see a budding talent, such as yourself, sell themselves short out of expected social courtesy. he often found himself buying your highest-priced works even if he had to empty his entire wallet. you were beyond grateful for his patronage, even offering a commission, free of charge. that's just how bad business was before he stepped in. oh you poor thing, now that he knows how easy it was to get you dancing in his palm, how could he let you meet better opportunities? he was your lifeline, the only way you were going to make it in this career you chose. and you better not forget that.

NEUVILETTE knew that he shouldn't be so enamoured with the new hire. really. a being who had been alive for as long as he falling in love with someone thousands of years their junior? he wanted to rip his hair out. the chief justice approached this predicament as he would with almost anything he deemed annoying — avoidance. sending you out on errands that kept you out of the office for the whole day, giving days off to everyone if there was nothing on the agenda, having you go sort out documents in the filing room, and a whole host of other things that made sure you and him wouldn't cross paths. once he had a clearer mind to sit down and think, he is immediately riddled with guilt. weren't his actions akin to that of a black company employer? you on the other hand, could not be happier to hit the jackpot. good pay, regular days off, responsibilities that didn't require you to rack your brain too much. this was everything an energy-saving adult like you could ever want. it must be nice to frolic around and stay blissfully unaware while your boss was in the middle of a mental breakdown alone in his office.

JING YUAN was a calculating man, despite the commonly held belief that he never really took things too seriously. he kept a rather consistent air of nonchalance so impenetrable that it annoyed you whenever you couldn't discern what was on his mind at that moment. your after-hours hobby these days was to drop by the community starchess club and play a few rounds with the people there. and who else was waiting there at your seat every day? your damned boss. the elders who were there swooned over the handsome general, remarking about how you and him made a great pair — much to your chagrin. the man would always send a blinding smile in your way as you got closer, even going so far as to help you settle down. the routine was always the same each night. you would play against him for at least five rounds consecutively, lose against him in almost every single match, play against the other club members, gather your things and go home for the day. the general would also coincidentally be done with his activities. he offered to walk you to your front door, you've learnt from the one time you refused that the general was unusually talented in pulling an extremely sad, pathetic, wet and kicked puppy face. unfortunately, you were too nice to reject him further. ah, but now that he knew of that weakness of yours, you'd better expect that he would be pulling the same trick again soon.

TANG GUNAK felt that he was far too geriatric to be feeling this way. especially when he had adult children of his own. the youngest of whom was only a few years older than you were. a talented person, emerging at the top of your class in the academy meant that the world was your oyster. so why had you decided to come down to sichuan and work as an aide in this family? the patriarch had no clue, and he certainly didn't know how to even bring up the question. at first, he had hoped that perhaps you and one of his children would be wed but as time passed, it became increasingly obvious you were not interested in them at all, rather you had set your sights on the patriarch himself. him? the widower? the poor man who had only felt the touch of his dead wife? he was very scandalised that the young aide of his house was so open about their attraction to him. however, it seemed nobody in the household was on his side. not even his own flesh and blood. though for all that forwardness, he never expected that you would be so hesitant and shy when you were alone with him. it was endearing how you became more diligent whenever that happened, how you would engross yourself in your work just to pretend he wasn't there with you. the next time he looked up from what he was doing, you were passed out on your desk. he moved over to carry you back to your quarters — it was deep into the night right now anyways, so nobody would see him with you in his arms. he tucked you into bed, leaving as quickly as he came. the glimpse of his own flushed face in the reflection of the window never left his mind the rest of that week.

DOKGO had agreed to follow his disciple to town only because said disciple was going to throw a tantrum in his courtyard and the older man was not in the mood to deal with the adult child. the master pretended to not be acquainted with his own disciple when the man began to flirt with the women passing by. he walked on and sat down at a vacant bench in front of a teahouse. his troublesome disciple eventually shook off the girls clinging onto him and joined his master at the table, a string of apologies falling out his mouth when he caught sight of the older man's disapproving glare. only when the younger man offered to pay did the old master's hardened expression fall softer — fine, he said with a grunt. the second headache of the day came in the shape of you, a wandering merchant, or so you said. you slipped in to sit next to the master after the disciple had graciously allowed you to. not like the older man could oppose when there weren't any empty seats in the vicinity. while the conversation was lively as you talked with the disciple about your travels, he could only focus solely on the callouses of your palms, something a merchant who says they are not a martial artist shouldn't have. you had noticed his scrutinising gaze, throwing him a quick grin as you continued the chat with his disciple. oh? he could only wonder what that was about. shame that his dull, blockheaded disciple had let that slip past him. the master wonders if he should up the training regime when they get back.

CHONGYUE was up and early, as he usually does, leading the daily morning exercise with the other operators. the doctor not being there was somewhat expected, but you going missing? that was a first. when the morning exercise was over, he headed up to your room to check on you, finding the door slightly ajar. cautiously, he walked into the dark room, you had a bag of junk near the entry, from the looks of it you were living off cup noodles and soda, again. no wonder you were now curled up in bed all sick. he might have to give you an earful later, but for now, he puts aside your laundry and took out the trash. he goes down to the canteen, ordering some warm chicken porridge and even stopping by the nurse's office to pick up whatever he thinks you might need. this time, you were now somewhat awake. grumbling and muttering complaints under your breath from the disturbance, he helped you sit up. you insisted on feeding yourself, but he would have none of it. you could only comply and open your mouth wide every time he brought the spoon to your lips. you finished the food and even took the medicine obediently, earning praise from the man himself. before he left, he rubbed some medicinal balm on your stomach, layering warm blankets and patted you back to sleep, reciting an abbot's chants as he did so. the nostalgic feeling was comforting. you should thank him when you got better — maybe he might be interested in a popular classic novel from your home country, or should you try your luck with the lacquer pots instead?

SHAMANE spotted a figure hunched over the running stream near his hut as he was out collecting the fresh water he would need for the day. when they didn't answer his calls, he walked over, not too worried about whether the figure was a dangerous critter or not. the snap of a twig had them spin their head in his direction — that's when he met your eyes. you both stared at the other, sizing each other up. when he decided that you were not a threat, he introduced himself with his signature smile. you did the same, albeit quieter, still a little peeved from seeing a large bearded man in the middle of nowhere. friendly as ever, he kept the conversation going. he talked about himself, he asked about you, and so on and so forth until you finally admitted to him that you had gotten lost in the mountains, also you had twisted your ankles. he pointed to his hut and asked if you wanted to rest in there until you got better, how could you say no? the month when you lived under the same roof as him passed by quickly, and soon enough it was time for you to go back down the mountain. when you both parted ways at the entrance of the village, there was an air of reluctance in saying goodbye. you promised to write to him, maybe even visit him. he only laughed you off, not expecting much to come out of that. though when he received his sister's letter not long after, he thought about taking you with him to his hometown. but ah, isn't visiting each other hometowns a thing expectant newlyweds do? well, he could always pretend he didn't know about these things, couldn't he?

HIGURUMA was pretty friendly with the tenants renting out the office space next door. all of whom were fresh design school graduates trying to start a business together. you were the one he's grown the most familiar with, the unofficial boss of the company and the one who was single-handedly juggling your own practice along with other administrative duties. he helped you where he could, the doors to his own law office always open to you — even in the wee hours of the night. you would sit cross-legged on the big swivel chair as both of you engrossed yourselves in your respective work with the boxes of takeout splayed all over his table. when it was late enough that you missed the last train, he drove you back to your apartment. and everytime you sat in the passenger seat, he would reach over to pull the seatbelt on for you. you could have done it yourself but how were you supposed to pass up the chance to have him come this close? enough to even catch a whiff of his cologne? the lawyer himself knew that you were capable enough to do something this simple, but he couldn't help but enjoy the way you tried not to look at him as he did this each time. the ride back was quiet and serene, your tired body sank into the plush of his car seats and soon you were knocked out cold. even when you were both already parked outside your residence, you still wouldn't rouse. he clicks the seatbelt off you, even going so far as to push the seat back so you were lying more comfortably. you've done this enough times where he has a blanket to cover you with as he waited for you to wake up. which you would, and feel so ashamed. he thinks about how cute you were babbling out your apologies and thanks, all while scrambling to pull yourself together and out his car. only to repeat this whole song and dance the very next night.

RYŪ was a bit of a recluse. never really leaving his room unless it was for a really good reason. which was rare, and by rare it was almost never. but a human had to eat, shit and get clean — which was where you came in. as the designated errand runner for the organisation, you were the one that ended up having to take care of that guy's day-to-day needs. you might have hated him at first, with how picky he was with his food, even the brand of his necessities had to be the exact right one. doesn't matter if the stock ran out, you had to go out there and haunt for a place that still has it or else he wouldn't even entertain your presence. the one good thing you had going about you was that you were adaptable, learned things quick and was light on your feet. if things went south, you always had a backup, and a backup for the backup, you get the idea. the man, mayhaps out of the other's insistence, but you liked to think that he had warmed up to you, started to initiate conversations. at some point whenever you brought him his meals, he would make you sit and watch him eat. at first, you didn't know what to talk about, but then you also started bringing your own lunchboxes to eat alongside him, and you talked his ear off about what you made that day. over time, you both fell into a routine and on days when he's kept you a little too long with him, you'd stay over and crash on his couch. and after more time had passed, he's already got some of your clothes together with his in the wardrobe. hell, he even bought a bigger sofa just so you could sleep better whenever you stayed over. give it more time and who knows, you might end up moving in completely, not that this old hack would mind too much.

[lavender-gayz]

can you imagine being so obviously and grossly in love with your coworker that even after you quit your job (because she betrayed your team) (and attempted to end the world with the minoan trident) (and you had to talk her down by making her confront the reality that ending the world would mean ending your life) - even after all that - your former employers send her to try to convince you to return to work? and then it works???

[froody]

writing fictional Wikipedia articles as outlines for my historical fiction characters and having so much fun. dude look at this:

Daniel Ivey Clairville (3 May 1856 - 5 December 1941) was a prominent figure in the field of animal husbandry, early adopter of germ theory, animal behaviorist, cattle drover, diarist and Quaker theologian. Born in Philadelphia, Clairville apprenticed as a farrier until the death of his father in 1871 caused him to relocate to Texas to seek employment along the Chisholm Trail. Clairville was known for his ability to slow and halt the spread of disease among cattle using sanitation methods he pioneered, reducing cattle loss by up to 60% in herds under his care.

After retiring from the cattle industry in the late 1890s, he attended Cornell University, becoming an adjunct professor at Elgin Polytechnic Institute and publishing several texts on bovine husbandry and behavior.

Clairville was a relatively obscure scientific figure before his private writings about his sexuality, faith and experiences in the waning days of the Wild West were published posthumously.

^ Personal life

Clairville was gay and in a committed relationship with Joseph “Shortie” Alcott (14 November 1860 - 17 July 1906) until the latter’s mysterious death in Texas. Alcott was a train robber, outlaw, gambler, duelist and suspected serial killer. The couple met in the mid-1880s after Alcott was released from Utah Territorial Penitentiary and joined a trail drive lead by Clairville. Their relationship was described as inseparable but contentious by John Matthew Robertson-Clairville, Clairville’s adopted son, who often wrote about the couple’s relationship in his trail diary.

Having worked side by side for over a decade, Alcott initially followed Clairville east when he retired from the cattle industry in the 1890s but became embroiled in legal trouble in Pennsylvania and returned to Texas where he embarked on a crime spree that ended in a fatal two day shootout with a number of Texas rangers.

The details of Clairville’s private life and his connection to notorious criminal Shortie Alcott was largely forgotten until the 1970s when a box of personal letters and diaries was discovered in the attic of his former residence. The diaries of Clairville and Robertson-Clairville along with the correspondence between Clairville and Alcott in the latter’s final months form the basis of the book published by his great granddaughter in 1996.

Analysis of his writings and first hand accounts of his behavior suggest he had autism and OCD.

[mirixmoya]

adding my two cents to the post-war jobless effie discourse i’ve seen floating around cause i think it’s a really interesting topic ……

personally, i think it’s highly unlikely that a post-war effie would return to ANY kind of formal employment. not because she would be incapable, but because i think she would be highly disillusioned with (a) formal establishments and (b) her previous notions that hard work will always be appreciated for what it is. she lived through a war, and—depending on the canon—she lived through institutionalized torture. i think it’s incredibly unlikely that effie would seek out any kind of formal employment after this.

also, depending on your personal headcanons, effie has been girlbossing in some form of industry since she was veryyy young. my girl deserves a break! and i think she would have very few reservations about an early retirement.

however, i don’t think this lack of formal employment makes her a housewife by any means. i’ve been in hayffie fandom circles for a long time and, generally, post-war effie rarely cooks, rears haymitch’s children, or does any sort of heavy manual household labour. at most she cleans, caretakes, shops, and sews; all of which feel like characteristically effie tasks to take on. it is for these reasons that i think an unemployed post-war effie doesn’t necessarily quantify as a housewife, at least not in the traditional sense.

but, i have always been a proponent of Effie Does Things after the war! providing sewing & mending services, selling dozens of goose eggs, working the counter at peeta’s bakery when he needs it, teaching piano at the local school once a week, etc! i think all of these are highly plausible post-war effie activities that would occupy the “i need to do something!” part of her brain.

they’re not necessarily formalized employment, but they’re something to do with her time whilst also offering her more freedom & flexibility than she ever saw in her former industries.

[angelxd-3303]

*jump scares you with lore art for my poppy playtime au*

I've been a fan of Poppy Playtime for awhile now, and it's kinda been my most recent hyperfixation.

In this au, the player is a former employee of playtime Co. named Patrick Desmond. He worked in the Game Station, caring for the children as they arrived. About a year into his employment, Patrick met a teacher from the Playcare named Lilith. The pair started working more closely after Patrick was promoted to a position in her school, started dating, and got married two years after meeting. (A healthy hetero couple???Nani??)

Some time later, a boy named Daniel Harvey came into the factory. He was orphaned at five years old, and was taken in by Playtime Co. He was meant to become a test subject; they intended to use him to create DogDay, but he was one of the lucky few to escape when Patrick and Lilith adopted him at 7.

Lilith sadly wound up losing her job at Playtime Co., when Miss Delight was created. She was heartbroken at leaving her students, but made the most of it by focusing on her adopted son, and her new life as a mother.

Patrick stayed at Playtime Co. for another four years. As time passed, he became more suspicious. Why did kids keep disappearing? Why was no one answering any questions? Everything came to a head when a child he was watching dropped her Mommy Longlegs toy, and Patrick was mortified to see blood spilling from between the plastic.

Following that incident, Patrick began scrutinizing Playtime Co. more closely. In a risky move, he snuck into his manager's office to investigate. He wound up finding papers describing the requirements for experiment test subjects. With that, he realized that all the rumors he'd heard over the years were true, that this childcare program was nothing more than a way for the company to gather subjects for their sick experiments.

Patrick made up his mind; he put in his two weeks notice. His boss wasn't happy, but Patrick was determined to muscle through the last weeks and leave this pit of a factory.

Now, as is canon, he called in sick on August 8th, 1995. The Hour of Joy. Daniel brought a cold home from school, and Patrick caught it. The next day, despite still being ill, Patrick tried to go to work. When he saw a flood of cop cars outside the factory, Patrick figured they'd been exposed for their crimes, turned tail and went straight home.

The police asked questions, of course, but since Lilith hadn't been there for years and Patrick had missed work that day, they had little reason to ask much of them. They still cooperated insofar as they could.

Ten years went by, and though Patrick had gotten a new job at a grocery store, Playtime Co. was always on his mind. The couple agreed that Danny was the only good that came from the situation, but Patrick could never shake the guilt. He had no idea what happened in the factory, or why he never saw any former employees around. Still, the guilt of leaving when there was clearly something going on lingered.

So when he received a vintage Poppy Playtime advertisement and a messily written plea to return, Patrick hardly thought twice.

Daniel, 17 now, had grown up with a loving but guilt ridden Patrick as his dad. He didn't know what exactly went down in the factory, but had memories of Playcare and the way he and the other kids were treated. He knew his dad felt guilty about leaving the factory, so when Patrick ran off without warning Danny knew exactly where he went.

Danny would be damned if he let his Dad go trudge through the painful memories of the past alone, so he went in after Patrick, facing what could have been his fate in his quest to find his father.

Lilith has her own demons regarding that factory, so she always held her husband back from returning. Her worst nightmare came to fruition when both her husband and son charged headlong right into the belly of the beast. Not willing to stand by while her family went down the drain, Lilith put aside her fear of Playtime Co. and went in after them.

So we have a man riddled with survivors guilt, a boy facing what his fate was meant to be, and a woman who knows more than she lets on...

Mayyybe a fic upcoming?? I'm still working on my Mario one, I promise. I've just hit a creative roadblock, so I'm gonna try to redirect to a different project and revisit it later to see if the flow returns. Sorry to keep you waiting!🙏

Let the games begin.

[autophage]

The slow but incessant rain of anvils began in 1942.

George Macomber was walking from the trolley stop to his home in Great Falls (a name which many newspapers took advantage of in their lede selection) when a two-ton Bavarian fell out of the sky, landing squarely on top of poor George. He was Flattened instantly.

And, seconds later, he slid out from beneath the anvil, with a new height of one and a half millimeters. He had become, in an instant, the densest human being on the planet.

George Macomber happened to look up just before impact. This saved his life: because he was the first to ever be Flattened, the extremely-high-density intravenous fluid setup had not yet been invented, and no hospital could have kept him hydrated if his mouth were not accessible on his topside. (Iris Colelman invented the extremely-high-density intravenous setup in 1947, after hundreds had perished due to dehydration mere days after their Flattening.)

In another twist of good fortune, George Macomber had served as a signal officer in the Navy during the Great War and knew Morse code. While his vocal chords were capable only of producing an awful gurgling, he could still communicate by blinking - a trick that the doctors recognized quickly. And so he was able, painstakingly, to describe the characteristic sound of the anvil's descent: a terrifying descending whistle, like the slide-flute sound used for falling bombs in animated reels.

His story is not all a happy one, though. Some who are Flattened eventually pop back up to their former stature, but poor Mr. Macomber never did. While his medical condition remained stable, his wife divorced him and he had trouble finding employment. Seven years after his Flattening, he stopped eating or drinking. His final words, blinked to his nurse, are lost to history; she felt that she owed him her silence, even as she was fired and eventually prosecuted for letting him pass in this manner. The court asserted that she should have immobilized him and given him a high-density drip.

Only twenty-three days after George's Flattening, Irma Childress was returning from the bakery when a six-ton farrier's anvil hurtled down and Flattened her. She, too, was lucky enough that her mouth remained accessible. Her story is happier than George's - she was also the first person to pop back up to her normal height. It took her six months, and those must have been worse than George's, as she did not know Morse code - though she learned it and was proficient by her third Flattened month.

Even after regaining her former height, Irma remained wary of doors, stairs, and any place with high foot traffic. She sold her house in Los Angeles and moved out to an almond farm. She spoke to the press repeatedly and respectfully, and to this day is remembered as an early and passionate advocate for keeping the Flattened comfortable and helping them maintain their dignity.

Nobody has discovered where the anvils come from. They fall primarily in North America, most often in the southwest and midwest. Some suspect that they are flung by tornados, or some sort of awful prank, or military test flights. They are always of recent manufacture, indicated by a date stamp, but never a maker's mark.

The rate of Flattenings increased until the late 50's, at a peak of a bit over 100,000 in 1958. Today, the rain has slowed: there are usually between one and two thousand Flattenings a year. This incident rate has held steady since the early 1980's. This is unusual, since far fewer anvils are manufactured or used today than were in the 1940's. Of those Flattened, about half pop back to their previous height, usually between two months and a year after their initial Flattening.

It was difficult for the Flattened to connect with each other before modern video conferencing - those who were lucky enough to look up before their Flattening can see above themselves, but cannot see in front of themselves, and it is generally difficult for the Flattened to orient themselves otherwise. The Flattened of today generally stay on a table with a tablet above them, modified to use eye tracking for navigation. (Of course, this only really works with Flattened whose eyes are on their top- or bottom-sides; those with eyes facing forward, or whose faces were crushed into their bellies, can usually hear, but have a very hard time making themselves understood.) Regardless of orientation they are helped by dedicated care nurses who changes their IV fluids. These nurses are provided by Flattening insurance, offered by all major insurance providers; they often also take over some of the responsibilities the Flattened previously held, such as taking care of their children.

Sadly, the provisions surrounding Flattening insurance have changed in the last twenty years. Most nurses make less than 20% above minimum wage, and are afforded very little flexibility by the job, which requires them to attend the Flattened's household around the clock. They become very close with those they care for - in many cases they develop shorthands to make communication easier, such as diacritic modifications to the blinked Morse code.

While the Irma Childress Foundation is the leading voice for Flattening insurance reform, some long-term Flattened feel that their concerns are often not heard. They contend that the Foundation often bargains away provisions that could help some edge cases - especially those with limited communication capabilities.

Some of the Flattened have started pooling resources to buy land and build a city suited to their own needs, to wean themselves off of the marginal succor offered by the insurance system. We who stand tall must support them. We must afford them not only the dignity of doing our best not to step on them, but to self-determination. We must acknowledge that their lives are all unique and different. We must refuse, if you will pardon the pun, to flatten their experiences into one single narrative.

[thedeskofaltoclef]

Its not a goodbye. Its a 'see you around'

Looks like the ol Desk is moving to a new location next month. My former employer finally removed me from their internal roster and I can get my 401k out. however it wont allow for rent costs these days. So heads up, good chance at the end of Nov I'll vanish a while. Return TBD.

So enjoy me while you can? lol. I know the post is stupid but I need to get it off my chest.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hey I was wondering if you have any plans or mini ideas on the bnha cyber au. Last post was a while ago and was curious if you're still interested in the au.

Mustofelese Rope Thoughts | Yandere BNHA

Reference to this post

Oh do I! 

It’s been so long but it was going to be a tug of war among all the different people you come across in this cyber world

In your home you’d have your roommate and friend Bakugo who is just waiting for you to realize he isn’t the kind of guy to build a house for just anybody

If that wasn’t worse he’s not even going to mention the two arficials he can’t imagine life without

Which are Kirishima the house AI and the retro android Izuku 

The latter is a living mystery, that may or may not harness the consciousness of a former human being

Either way he’s devoted to his morals of justice and protection of you and Katsuki 

Heavily relying on Katsuki for the latest add-ons and adjustments

You and katsuki suspect he’s a prototype of some kind, weirdly advanced and with so much potential 

That’s why you both have made an effort to keep his existence secret

Which may explain why he has such a hard time ever leaving either of your side

Kirishima similarly is mean to focus on those within reach 

His whole body is the innerworkings of the house so everyone who goes to rest there is in his care

And boy does he care 

Unlike Izuku he never has a set down time 

So he’s free to constantly mull over the same facts and footage he has of the occupants in the house

Should any of you return home injured from the outside world you can forget ever leaving again

Shouto is someone you meet while on a job

The most recent and best creation the Endeavor Tech giant can create he’s always offering his creator’s wares to see a smile on your face

Due to the similarity of his existence you’ll let him meet Izuku 

of course the two hit it off 

He becomes a good friend to you two 

such good friends it’s not immediately clear that he’d like to lock you both away 

Far away from his greedy father, the violent underbelly of the city, and that ‘selffish’ roommate of yours

And Shigaraki Tomura, a dealer for coveted parts and the best mechanic known to the underground

He’s also your employer

He delights in your visits and pleas for old parts, before sending you out to help a client

But just because he sends you away everyday doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you to stay

You really won’t find out how many times he’s hired his contacts to abduct you for him until it’s too late

Your job specifically is about building things and helping deliver unapproved inventions

Which is where you’ll meet most of your clients, who just can’t let get enough of you

But that was some of the plan with the cyber universe 

[mochis-cream]

23:55 — choi san ♡

・ cleaning up after a party is a necessity, it always has been. and yet, as tedious as it may be, as tedious as the whole process may be, you find that you really don’t mind. in fact, you’ll do it time and time again just to make sure he knows he’s loved, and to put a smile on that beautiful face

c.s x gn!reader ・ ateez ・ 에이티즈 ・ sfw ・ non!idol au ・ wc: 932 ・ genre -> fluff, slice of life?? ・ one shot! -> masterlist!

content warning: established relationship, birthday boy san, kissing, lots of fluff me thinks, one singular curse word, lowercase intended, not proofread, let me know if i missed something!

author’s note: yoo employment is crazy dawg 😭 like wdym i don’t have enough free time to actively be working on my own personal projects 😰 so yeah this definitely isn’t getting posted while it’s still his birthday 😞 but hey! it’s still his birthday in alaska, yeah? that’s gotta count for smth right?

“bye! thanks for coming!”

the night winds down as you gently usher the last party guest out of the house, exchanging tired yet happy goodbyes. the door clicks shut behind them, and you lock it, letting out a sigh of relief. turning around, you survey the battlefield residing in what was once your living room. streamers hang limply from the ceiling, confetti is scattered about like glittery snow, and popped balloons lie sadly around the floor. and there, in the dead center of your living room, draped over the couch like a cake-covered renaissance painting, is san. he’s half asleep, a mix of frosting and confetti adorning his face, and he looks like a complete utter mess.

you sigh again, this time out of resignation, and grab a broom. starting with the confetti, you sweep up the colorful pieces, the crunch of paper underfoot filling the quiet room. next, you gather the popped balloons, their deflated forms serving as a stern reminder of the earlier chaos. fallen cake chunks are carefully swept into a dustpan, and you mop up the frosting smeared across the floor, each swipe of the mop bringing back a bit of the room's former glory.

with the house now looking somewhat presentable, you return you equipment to their rightful locations and then turn your attention to san. he’s now fully asleep on the couch, one arm dangling off the side, his face still a frosting-covered mess. fighting back the urge to groan, you tiptoe past him, heading to the bathroom, and return with a wet towel. despite the mess, the sight of him makes you smile—he looks so peaceful like this you almost don’t want to disturb him. and yet still, you carefully climb on top of him, straddling his hips. you give his nose a gentle peck, smiling as you lick the frosting off your lips. san stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. you begin to gently wipe his face with the towel, the cool water making quick work of the remaining frosting. about halfway through though, san starts to wake up, his hands almost instinctively finding your hips.

he mumbles something about the towel being cold, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “mornin’, sleepyhead. did you sleep well?” you ask, your voice barely concealing your amusement.

san chuckles, eyes still half-closed, and nods. you continue cleaning his face, but he starts shifting beneath you, making it a bit difficult. “hold still for a moment, sannie. i need to get the rest of this frosting off,” you say, trying to sound stern yet failing completely.

san, ever the playful one, shakes his head and swiftly swipes some frosting from his lips onto yours, a mischievous smile spreading across his face as you nearly splutter around his fingers. “ah- come on, san, seriously?” you say, half-exasperated, half-amused. you could hardly complain though, it wasn’t like the frosting tasted bad. it was your favorite.

and just as you begin to lick the icing off your lips, san's free hand cups the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss. his tongue sweeps across your lips, licking off the remaining frosting in the process. the kiss is sweet and lingering, and when he finally pulls away, it's just enough to whisper, "thank you for making my birthday special." his words are sincere, filled with warmth, before he pulls you back in for another, gentler kiss that nearly sends your heart tumbling out your ass.

despite not wanting too, you force yourself to pull away first, instead opting to give him a soft kiss on his forehead. you don’t miss his little blissed out eye smile as you climb off of him, grabbing his arm and hoisting him up off the couch with you. as he stands, most of the confetti clinging to him falls off, fluttering to the floor in a colorful shower. you both laugh at the sight.

"don't worry, i'll clean it up later," you assure him with a smile. "let's go to bed now, kay? you promised your sister you'd spend the day with her tomorrow."

agreeing, san follows you to your shared room. you both change into your pajamas, laughing at how tired you look in the mirror. finally, you climb into bed, snuggling close to each other, the warmth and comfort of being together enveloping you both.

after a moment of peaceful silence, san speaks. his voice is quite, vulnerable, and filled with an emotion you recognize wholeheartedly as love. “seriously, thank you so much for today. i couldn’t possibly have asked for a better birthday. you always make everything feel so special, i’m so glad i met you. thank you.”

you couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried, and your heart all but burst within your chest into a puddle of sunshine and rainbows. “of course, sannie. you deserve this, you know? i want to make sure that you always feel loved by those around you, and that the love you give is returned to you tenfold. whether it’s me, or your family, or your friends, we won’t stop until we’ve put the whole world in your hands.”

san's eyes are red and glossy when they meet yours, his voice fragile and tender. “i know. thank you, i love you.”

you return his sentiment with a gentle squeeze. “i love you more. now go to sleep, okay? you have a long day ahead of you. goodnight, my love.”

“okay, yeah, goodnight.”

with a final kiss to the crown of his head, you both drift off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

[fancyfeathers]

Hello dear fancy!!! Do we have an "Rapunzel" like Darlin? If not so, how would it be and who would be an better match to her?

Daughter of two nobles, the only newborn daughter of such a couple just disappears and yada yada yada. She doesn't have house-length hair, but rather considerably long hair that is past her waist or so, which is rarely cut. Simply Rapunzel without the magic part, but let's just exchange it for Mama Gothel's desire to have and boredom of possessing.

Yes, I love this, yes

So this fits with William, he normally does not accept consulting jobs to help noble families but when so many servants of a certain noble couple come to William and ask him for their help for their employers he cannot exactly ignore it especially since the couple are quite good people. The couple did not know their staff went to William until he shows up at their door telling them that he heard a rumor that they needed help. He sits down with them in their house over tea and they explain what happened, it happened so many years ago that it was practically hopeless and their staff should not have bothered him about it but they could not help but worry about their lord and lady’s mental condition.

Almost twenty years ago they had a baby girl only for her to disappear, the police saw it as a kidnapping but the case went cold and they had lost their daughter forever. They do tell him that is hopeless and how he should not worry himself with such a thing, but of course he does not listen since there is the who did it and they why they did it that William cannot leave be. But also there is something that just compels him towards it, as if it was fate.

William looks into everything, past grudges against the couple, relatives, business deals gone wrong, former staff. Then he found out that the couple had some family they had not spoken to in years, long before the disappearance of their daughter. So William goes to investigate at their country home and begins asking the staff questions, like the gardener when William just happens to ‘passing by’. Apparently the suspects had a daughter but no one had ever seen her since she was constantly kept inside. It aligns all too perfectly to be a coincidence.

So he deals with them accordingly and in a way their death is a bit poetic, falling out a window, just like how the captive young lady has viewed the world through for her entire life. Then the second part of the job comes around, returning the daughter to her parents, it takes not too long for him to find the key to her room since it was hidden in the study, but it hits him why he took this job when he saw her. She was beautiful but absolutely terrified, which is to be expected, but the terrified look in her eyes when she sees a stranger come into her room reminds him of a little dormouse. He just watches her as he explains what has happened, minus her kidnappers being dead, and who she was and that she was going home, and she trusts him, almost without hesitation, if he was anyone else he would have called her naive and while she was it could not be held against her since she had been locked away her whole life.

His obsession and heavy protective tendencies don’t really set in until he sees her out and about, entering society with the help of her real parents. She curious about the world but has no idea how it works. Since she is the daughter of the noble couple there is no doubt that she will have suitors but they are all pushed away when William asks her parents for her hand in marriage, it is the least they can do since he was the one who brought their daughter back to them and after all he is one of the only people they trust with her safety after what had happened.