#but it's still all made possible by them overworking their workers for shit pay so!! perish!!

[m4g3114n1c]

Make it worth my time.

Midas x Fem!Reader

tags: Consensual Sex, Missionary, Porn With Plot, Gun Kink, poc friendly, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Degradation kink, Verbal Humiliation, BDSM, not so sane but consensual sex!, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Face-Fucking, Multiple Orgasms, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub, Older Man/Younger Woman, Workplace Sex, Power Imbalance, Desk Sex, Sir is used a lot (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃Midas is SadisticChoking

summary: ur insufferable boss calls u down bc

Intern Reader x CEO Midas

Midas was an asshole. You said it, yet in the back of your mind you still felt guilt spreading through your veins, infecting your Midas-hating self. You shouldn’t feel bad for him. You shouldn’t feel for him at all.

A stern, strict, relentless man that overworked everybody to the point of exhaustion was somebody you should never feel bad for.

When you had been recruited to do the internship, it seemed fun, entertaining enough. A program for spies—man, you should’ve known how sketchy that sounded.

You were grown, you should know what a scam of a program it was. You had to work for minimum wage due to the fact there was a ton of people working at one place; the pay check had to be broken up in between all of you.

The thing was, Midas was rich enough to pay you all, especially you, since you were more focused in being his assistant. He set that goal for you the first time you arrived.

The touch of gold at his fingertips and yet he couldn’t offer one molecule of a golden nugget to his workers.

Cheap motherfucker.

How was that even possible? The ability of the golden touch and he was still so cheap. It frustrated you more than it should.

You felt like a moron at how much you thought this would be a fun job. His close friends seem to get better treatment at least, and go on useful missions that make an impact.

All what you had to do was organize, organize, and organize files.

If you wanted to sign up for a damn cubicle job, you would’ve done so, because this was insanely far from what you imagined the program was.

So, here you were now, almost eight hours straight of non-stop work. Once the clock hit three, you celebrated in your head; the champagnes popping and all.

It was finally time for you to go, time for you to relax. You had to clear your mind in your apartment.

You shut off your computer, grabbing your jacket, your bag, plus—things you still needed to work at even at home.

That’s how much he made you work. As annoying as he was, he seemed to really want specifically you to be his assistant. Odd enough.

The boring, crisp air of the fancy building and the repetitive click-and-clacking of the keyboards were making you crazy. It was so quiet, nobody spoke, and only worked. It made you wonder that possibly it was about Midas.

It was definitely about him and his rules. When you got here, the rules he set were ridiculous.

Why did he think, “No talking.” was such an amazing, life changing and jaw-dropping rule?

The rule was plastered everywhere, in posters and stickers. It seemed so simple, yet so restricting on you and everybody else who worked under him.

You couldn’t really dwell on the topic too much because you were under his agency, that you applied to.

“Hi,” A high pitched voice made your head sharply turn. Your eyes widened with bewilderment at how she spoke with such a full voice. It was Skye?.. You didn’t remember but you knew she was one of Midas’ friends.

Ah. So that’s why she was speaking in a full voice. You forgot his friends could only speak fully in an environment like this. Everybody usually heard them bantering in the meeting room.

“Boss wants you in there.” She whistled in a way of saying you fucked up on something. She felt regret because you seemed like you were going to shit yourself.

“No clue what it was about,” She shrugged, patting you on the shoulder as she parted ways with you. The way she reassured you by giving you a small and muttered, “good luck,” made you extremely nervous.

Now you were left standing with your bag, knowing you had to go in there. You sighed, returning your things on the desk.

Well. You had to suck up now. Suck up to your shitty boss. Hooray!

Midas got around your nerves sometimes, and it had made you slip up once or twice. One time, he told you he was going to shorten the deadline on something while you weren’t even halfway through it.

“That’s great,” You mumbled under your breath, sarcasm seeping through your voice, collecting the files on the desk he had properly reviewed already.

“Excuse me?” He snapped. Shit.

“Nothing, sir.”

He turned around like nothing happened, dismissing you with a short wave of his hand.

You’re pretty sure he knew that you were not fond of him, and don’t see him as a friend.

You dragged yourself mentally, yet kept your head up, straight posture and your heels clacking against the dark definitely expensive floors. Good impressions to not get fired.

You sighed once more, finding yourself at the front of his door. For the last time, you made sure to look presentable before knocking. This was a rare occurrence. He never called anybody down.

You brought your hand up to his door, wrist working itself to knock hard enough on the dark wood.

Even through his walls were thick, including his door, you swore you could hear his heavy and weary sigh from a mile away. There was a short shuffle of his feet.

“Come in,” He said loud enough for you to grasp the handle of the door and pull. You know his patience ran thin quickly.

The sweet scent of his office billowed into your face; it smelt of an expensive cologne, possibly sandalwood. It smelt pleasant though, like a warm cabin. The mellow smell lingered in the thick tension in the air. It suddenly felt warm in the room.

Midas stood at the front of the thick glass separating him and the device. His eyes stayed glued on his creation. A cold light shone against its smooth surface.

It made you laugh whenever you saw it in all its glory because of how it was just in his office. The large device felt so out of place, but also felt the opposite because of his huge ego.

He just seemed the type of person to showcase his greatest passions.

Your eyes danced over to everything in his room, to his framed photos of his friends, his golden arsenal but especially his victims. People he’s killed with the golden touch.

A shiver ran up your spine but you kept your head clear.

You couldn’t see much but he seemed disinterested, even though he called you down there in the first place. His arms were behind his back, facing you. It felt like you were walking on eggshells, shifting a step, but before you could even walk even closer—

“Lock the door,” He followed by briefly stating your name.

Your heart dropped, feeling the anxiety peering in slowly.

Was he going to kill you? He definitely was.

It was difficult to distinguish his emotion since he didn’t exactly display it for you to see. His tone was monotone and his face was the same as it usually was, adorned with a scorn.

You kept yourself composed, turning around to turn the lock of the door. You stood by the door, and Midas turned his head obscurely, the warm light caught his amber eye. He didn’t break eye contact.

“Come here.” He turned himself around fully.

Standing straight at about 6 feet and an inch, you did not want to mess with your boss.

You obliged, approaching his desk so you were right in front of it, and him.

You absentmindedly lined the tip of your pointed heels to be right on the edge of the rug. It was like an imaginary boundary.

“Are you enjoying your time here?” He suddenly questioned and you felt yourself shift into that interviewee mindset.

“Yes, sir. I am.”

You swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch, trying to form a sort of sardonic smile. It was like his eyes were taking you apart, picking each piece of your nervous movement to analyze and trying to figure out how you felt.

He pulled his obnoxious leather and gold-lined chair out, settling on the chair before pushing himself closer to be tucked at the desk.

He gestured to one of the chairs.

“Take a seat,”

A part of you wanted to defy his order to piss him off and sit in the other.

You didn’t, and sat in the one he gestured to, which was closer to his desk.

He stared at you with a straight face. He was so intense.

“Be honest, will you?” He shrugged, trying to seem indifferent about the topic. He was trying to pry how you truly felt about him out of you, because he knew it was buried deep.

“If you’re going to be my assistant, you need to know what’s best for this agency,”

You wanted to say how stupid his system was, how cheap he was despite having the golden touch, and how he was an asshole. The thing is, you didn’t have it enough in you to say so.

“I’m—“ You began but felt that you were a tad bit too passionate about the topic. You started once again, tone professional.

“Sir, the way you run things..”

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow, already feeling skeptical about letting you speak about this.

He absolutely fucking hated it when people dragged him for how he ran his own agency. Yes, he asked for criticism but it wasn’t to actually change anything.

Why would he?

It was working like a well oiled machine anyway, so what was your issue?

“It’s awkward, doesn’t feel like anything’s getting done when nobody talks to eachother.”

Midas shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Here he went. His body language just screamed an arrogant, rich and conceited man.

“Well, it’s not a preschool, is it?”

That caught you so off guard you had the temptation to laugh at his remark. He was right, it didn’t have to be a jolly, holding hands, and my little pony type friendship sort of thing, but it was still important to create a comfortable work environment.

“No, sir, but I conducted a survey which revealed that 87% of your workers—“

“You broke my rules?”

You stopped yourself, and sighed.

You didn’t mean to slip up like that.

Well, you couldn’t take it back anymore. Hopefully, he liked you a lot and wouldn’t fire you for that.

“That’s not the point.” You felt like you were trying so hard to convince him that what he was doing was shitty. It was as if you were talking to a brick wall.

“Yes, it is. You know how crucial it for their work to go uninterrupted, by doing that, you’ve partially slowed some of their progress.”

There it is. He had overworked everybody just for him to sit in his comfortable office, staring at his big ball of creation.

“See, that’s the issue. That’s your issue. You don’t care.”

“Am I supposed to? Business is business. You’re not here to make friends. Fall in love. Hold hands.”

He rolled his eyes, finding your idea completely wrong.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Oh wow.

He’s never seen you this assertive before towards him. He saw potential.

“Alright,” He said, somewhat defeated with your short-lived argument, beckoned you over with his finger.

Although you were still pissed at him, it felt like your body was owned by him.

Woah. Not owned.

It felt like your body just couldn’t stop following his every single order. The thought of you wanting to appease him in every way possible had you embarrassed. You hated him, but still wanted to impress him.

The sound of a drawer rolling caught your attention when you maneuvered yourself around the desk to stand beside his chair.

He pulled out a thick stack of cash from the drawer like it was nothing. The drawer was filled with wads of hundred dollar bills. He turned, still in his chair, humming as he didn’t even count it, and offered it to you.

You were unimpressed at this and he was stunned.

Were you asking for more money?

He didn’t care if you took all of his money because of how truly wealthy he was. When you didn’t take it from his hands, he took more from his stash, stacking it on and lying them on your hand.

The stack eventually weighed heavy on your palm. It was so heavy, you had to support it with both hands to refrain it from toppling over.

“No, this wasn’t what I asked for nor what I wanted. You can’t bribe me.” You looked at him, offended that he would think of something as stupid as this; bribery would never work on you.

It was nice seeing and smelling the fresh bills but you placed them on his desk with a smack.

His neutral expression shifted into something darker, something more formidable than usual. Midas frowned, bothered by your ungrateful attitude. At this angle, you were taller since he was sat down.

That didn’t last for long, as Midas stood up so quickly, the force of his movement sent his chair behind him strolling to hit something with a soft thud.

He towered over you, eyes glowering. He was only about an inch away from you. The propinquity of him worked; it was an intimidating tactic and it fucking worked on you.

“Sir,” You shakily said, feeling yourself in a daze. A sense of vertigo clouded your mind, blocking out any oncoming thoughts.

A blanket of blood flooded your cheeks, painting them crimson at the intimate proximity. In such a tone that sounded apologetic, it was ludicrous thinking about how you had been arguing with him.

At the sight of this, the dim lighting casted an attractive shadow against his angular face. You hated to admit it, but Midas was hot. You always felt in denial thinking about it, now here you were, lips inches away from his.

You knew you were only in denial due to the fact he was the boss and you were the intern.

“What do you want, then?” He said with a soft scoff, knowing he could fulfill your wishes so easily.

He found your fierce ambitions and your overall attitude amazing qualities. He also found you to be extremely attractive. That was a quality that always made him feel differently.

Your eyes darted away from his. This was a weird situation to be stuck in. Your boss and you, locked in his office and an inch away.

He noticed you weren’t pulling away.

“Just,” You hesitated but continued. “give me the money, please.” The state of affairs had you spouting shit you would never say in a million years. You begging for money was something you blurted out because of your panicked state.

Something about this whole thing made you want to scamper away.

Another part of you was leaning into it, wanting to know how his hands would feel against your bare skin, his lips on yours; would he fuck you rough, or would he fuck you agonizingly slow?

Would he praise you or would he condemn you to being useless?

You had to know.

You needed to know.

It was killing you, the part of not knowing was tearing you to shreds, eating you on the inside out.

“Please, what?”

He was feeding into your delusion—

“Please, sir.”

but you just couldn’t help yourself sometimes.

The way you sounded, you uttering that in a voice that sounded so heavenly, it took every inch of him to grab you. His gaze wandered to your soft lips, stained with lipstick, he found even more tempting to smear off.

“Do you really want the money?” Midas wasn’t blind, he had seen your nervous and your complexion flushed. Your short breaths, trying to inhale all of his air. No mistake, you were aroused. Turned on to the max.

“No.”

“Good.” His tone lowered to one that was filled with satisfaction and relief at your answer.

The function of your breathing had stopped. You couldn’t even comprehend Midas’ slow, yet calculated approach to stoop down and capture your lips in a tantalizing, short kiss.

His lips whilst pressed against yours felt surprisingly soft. Your eyes closed quite late, but felt prone to more.

A warm feeling erupted within your chest, spreading across your body at the first contact of his lips. It felt like a pit of fire inside you was slowly being fed by the smallest of his ministrations.

Midas leaned forward once more, allowing you to relax as he had to slightly accommodate to your height to kiss you. His larger hand came down to tilt your head to an angle he wanted.

You felt him grab your hip to keep you still, and the firm hold he had on you had been the last thing you needed to give in.

His stern hold indicated the longing of you, the longing for anybody, actually. Since he and his wife got divorced due to issues, he’d been desperate, not begging but he was.

He hated how you made him feel whenever you were around.

Every time you walked into his office, he tried his best to stay professional.

He didn’t even know you, apart from your résumé; you didn’t know him personally either.

He pulled you in, feeling his exhales from his nose as he tried to keep a steady breath. “Midas, sir,” You muttered in between kisses, pausing him by giving him a firm push of your palm.

He responded by grasping your wrist, almost in a way that told you he didn’t like getting touched without permission. You leaned back, but you couldn’t move much.

“Are we allowed to do this?” You asked, slightly hesitant to even ask.

“I make the rules, what do you think?” He sarcastically replied with a small tilt of his head.

Your silence and actions spoke louder than words when you pressed yourself closer to him. He noticed, pressing his silken lips against yours once more, reigniting his inner desires in him he’d long forgotten about.

Your hand reached down to his crotch, thinking you were doing him a favour. Midas’ fifth sense was quickly set off, not being able to see but sense your hand hovering just right above.

His hand once again, grabbed your wrist once more and this time pushed away.

“Are you fucking serious?” He asked, slightly breathless at your attempt. He sounded so pissed.

You might’ve misread the situation, maybe he didn’t want sex right now. You were in the wrong for trying to assume.

“I’m so sorry, I thought—“ You said so quickly it sounded jumbled together before being interrupted by Midas.

“Thought what? Do you think I like you ?” He emphasized the words and they hit you harder than you thought.

“Get on your knees.” He sneered, almost in a way that felt like he was humiliating you.

God, in such a sick way, you loved it.

Without hesitation, you slowly sunk down, feeling the rough material of the rug harshly against your knees.

This view of Midas felt more domineering, his eyes scanned your face. His face was riddled with contempt. Silence filled the air again, making him even more irritated.

“Are you just going to sit there and be useless all day?”

Your eyes wandered down to the visible tent in his pants, wanting to feel how hard he felt against yourself if you were ever to grind against him.

The thought made you squeeze your thighs, rubbing them against one another to soothe the growing desperation within your cunt.

“Please, let me.”

He nodded, watching with an amused expression as your hands fumbled with his metal belt.

The sharp clinking of his belt made his slacks feel a lot tighter. You then unzipped them, unbuttoned them and caught a glimpse of what you were dealing with.

His boxers were a plain black, and if you couldn’t see well, you wouldn’t have noticed the wet spot where his tip laid against. The outline of his was huge.

To not make him any more impatient, you tugged his boxers down enough. His cock was close enough to your face that could see the pre-cum beading out of the flushed tip.

He was more longer than he was in width, but other than that, you just wanted to take him all in your mouth. You hoped you could.

Midas pushed himself closer, letting the warm tip of his cock brush just against the corner of your mouth. You looked up at him, letting your tongue peek out to lick the corner of your mouth clean of the cum he smeared.

“Open.”

Your tongue dragged alongside a vein in his shaft before taking him into your mouth. The taste of his cum, you relished in. He cursed under his breath at the warm and wet feeling of your mouth.

Every one of your mouths movements had earned a grunt from him or two. They were small but it told you he was enjoying himself. You didn’t take him all the way, afraid to trigger your own gag-reflex.

Your hand accommodated to the leftover of his cock that was getting no attention, wrapping around and shifting the same time your mouth moved.

Your tongue swirled around his tip, earning a breathy moan from him. His hand made its way into your hair, pulling hard enough for yourself to moan around him.

The vibrations of your sound had him resisting so hard not to push your head down.

“Just like that, fuck.” He groaned under his breath and hearing it shot down pure arousal to your already soaked panties.

You set a steady motion of trying to take more of him into your mouth. Midas quickly lost himself to the feeling, finding the obscene, sloppy sucking noises you made so appealing.

You looked up as you continued, his hips pushing in, forcing yourself to take more than you could take. You resisted the urge to gag as he touched your uvula, eyes brimming with tears.

Your eyelashes were dampening, the expression on your face made him feel fucking sick, because he found your crying hot.

You breathed in through your nose, concentrating on keeping the pace consistent. Midas didn’t care much about your pace, pretty much fucking your face now.

You looked at him, the thrusting of his hips into your mouth had your own saliva dripping down your chin.

“You’re taking it so fucking good, yeah—I knew your mouth could be useful,” He panted.

You let out a muffled moan while he continued. Rare groans escaped his mouth and he was enjoying himself.

Then you pulled off his cock.

He didn’t like that.

Midas dragged you up off the floor with an easy tug of your hair. You looked like a mess, just the way he wanted. Your usual brazen self was now replaced a husk of your old self, desperate for attention from him.

He leaned in close, not waiting to rip off your pantyhose, along with pulling off your panties.

“Maybe this will make you learn your fucking lesson,” He spat out, smashing his lips against yours in a way that you didn’t even know what had happened.

You didn’t care, not ashamed that all you wanted from him was to fuck you. He lead you to his desk, your hip hitting the desk.

Since he hated you, you thought he might’ve preferred not seeing your face, so you bent over the desk. He was tempted but flipped you around.

With a gasp leaving your mouth, your weight felt like nothing as Midas picked you up and placed on top of his desk.

He unzipped your skirt to make it easier, also slipping it off.

“I want to see that it’s you.” He whispered, in contrast to his attitude earlier when he fucked your mouth. Usually hate sex was with the other person facing away. But the person who hated you the most wanted to see?

“You want me to fuck you?” Finally, he pressed his tip against the opening of your tight cunt.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re nothing to me, you do know that, right?”

“I’d never be with somebody as easy as you are.”

—-

word count got to me pt2

[partenopae]

you know on one hand i do like some of the stances cdpr has taken like for example the free next gen upgrade but i HATE the way they portray themselves as these rebels going against the grain unlike all Those Other AAA companies when at the end of the day they still treat their workers like shit lol

[thessalian]

Thess vs Exploitation

Seeing a post that I don’t want to hijack because it does make a good point, but I do want to add to it because it’s both a good point and a terribly oversimplistic one.

Basically, the message is, “The world as it is? The mess that capitalism’s become? It’s all our fault”. Because ... well, the example given was a cheap T-shirt. A bargain that “no one can resist”. One that we buy “Not for best, no, but it’s good enough”. One that earns the shopkeeper like five cents and the sweatshop worker who made it a penny at most. But we keep buying it.

Yeah, for some people, this is a true thing. For others? Here’s the thinking about that $1 T-shirt.

“Okay. Here’s a T-shirt that costs $1. I know that this was made by underpaid, overworked, abused people and earns some corporation more than it does anyone who actually did the work. ...But the thing is? I need a T-shirt, because all the other cheap ones I had to buy in the same circumstances have holes in them. And if I buy this T-shirt instead of making do with the ones with holes in until I can afford a better one, I get a healthier and more varied diet this month instead of subsisting on ramen again.”

The corporations that benefit from the state the world is in? They make damn sure that their exploitative model stays a self-perpetuating cycle. We don’t get paid enough, so we have to settle for cheap crap that is made by abusing people who get paid even less, and those people? They’re generally waved in our faces about how lucky we are to be paid a pittance and the threat is that our job could go to someone who’d be happy to settle for less, so we stick with it because a pittance is hard to survive on but easier to survive on than nothing, so we don’t get paid enough. And on and on ad infinitum.

We do need to accept that we are fuelling this self-perpetuating cycle of abuse and corporate exploitation. Thing is, there’s a difference between acceptance and blame. Blame suggests that we could do better if we wanted to badly enough. That we lack moral fibre. That we’re greedy and lazy and credulous. That we’re bad.

No. No, we’re not bad. The odds are stacked against us. Even those of us who desperately want to do right and do try to aren’t actually helping, because the corporations have arranged it that way. That more expensive t-shirt? Still sweatshop labour. Often the same ones that made the $1 T-shirt. Just they paid someone else a pittance to put a nice design on it. Maybe it lasts longer, but that’s because people treat it better because it’s more expensive.

Some of us - most of us - have to choose between the most ethical option or the one that actually provides for our needs. That is not our fault. It’s not our fault that we have to choose between patronising places that seem to treat their workers more ethically (but probably don’t) and going without, or patronising places that we know exploit their workforce and having enough to live. Not just ‘survive’ - live. I get that we want to be better people, but when you’re in a crashing plane, you put your own oxygen mask on first before you start helping others with theirs.

There is no ethical consumption under late stage capitalism. This isn’t something that people can fix with a change of spending habits. Given the sheer number of other interests any single corporation has, all they’d do even if a mass boycott got big enough to lose them even a tiny bit of money is to keep it as a tax write-off. This kind of shit has to happen at an international, corporate level. It’s going to take international standards on employee welfare, pay, food safety, goods quality, everything. This cannot be solved by one person, or one generation, denying themselves ... especially not when it comes to goods that are required for survival, like food and clothing.

And honestly, is this really the time to give people grief about buying as cheaply as possible? In the middle of a pandemic? With unemployment at a record high? When lockdown gets essential workers bullied about coming in despite government advice, giving them a choice between staying home (losing them shifts and possibly getting fired) or coming in despite government advice (risking them getting sick and at best not being able to stay home even when they test positive so spreading more disease, and at worse ending up in the hospital with no health insurance or, worst of all, dead)?

I know that this situation is tailor-made for exploitation by corporations. There is literally nothing we can do about that. Just for right now, maybe chill on the “BUY ETHICAL OR DON’T BUY AT ALL”. You can’t buy ethical anyway - it is literally impossible the way capitalism has been set up - so forget it. Maybe it would have been possible when this trend started way back when, but I can tell you from having watched through the eighties on up that that ship has sailed.

I don’t know of a polite way to say this, but it has to be said: video games are made in very exploitative environments. The CEOs are jackasses who do mass layoffs when they want to line their pockets, and force their underpaid staff to work in some cases up to 100 hour work weeks during crunch periods that last for months. These are non-essential items, and we buy them. Maybe when reblogging that post about how it’s all our fault that capitalism is how it is (when it isn’t; we’d have to go back a few decades to get to a point where we could have stopped this) where they cite essential items like clothing? Maybe consider reblogging a different post about non-essential items instead, or adding a note about the difference, or even just not reblogging it because it’s drastically unfair. Honestly, I’m not even blaming anyone for buying video games at this point; mental health is as important as physical health, and sometimes a good distraction and a bit of retail therapy helps. Plus all denying yourself all things that make you happy does is trigger or deepen depression and depth-charge one’s sense of self-worth Just ... I guess it’s kind of a combination of “let he who is without sin cast the first stone” and “before removing the mote from my eye, attend the beam in thine own”. I get wanting to save the world from the capitalist nightmare it’s become. I want the same. I’m just realistic on how we do it. It’s not about boycotts; we’re well past that. It won’t help. All we’ll do by blaming people is cause more mental health issues in people than they already have, at a time when we need fewer, not more.

Just ... be kind to people, rather than even indirectly judgmental. You don’t know what they’re going through, and their reasons for doing things. Don’t shunt blame from the corporations onto the people. It was wrong when it was done regarding the environment, and it’s wrong now. We win through votes and lobbying our politicians, not through boycotts and bullying those who won’t or can’t do the same.

Incidentally, this message is brought to you by the country that literally wants to strip down employee protections about the maximum-48-hour work week and paid leave and any accountability about employee hours (even as they say that the proposals leaked in the Financial Times are lies, somehow), so I have a feeling I’m going to be finding out a lot about employee exploitation in the next couple of years.

[ashandboneca]

Stories from the Bookshop

This post is inspired by my iTunes library, who decided tonight was the night, after years and years, to play the Best of Pagan Song. 

Once upon a time, I worked in an occult/pagan bookstore. I spent a little over 7 years there, and were they still open, I would likely still be there. 

I was hired when I was 25, and when I was 27 I was promoted to assistant manager. It was owned by a mother/daughter team. A lot of people talk about terrible retail jobs, talk about how much they hated their bosses and the customers, how boring it was, etc. Even people who worked at the same job prior warned me - the owners were mean and unreasonable, the job sucked, it was miserable.

I honestly cannot say this is the truth for me. I actively loved my job. I took a lot of pride in what I did. I got along well with my bosses - they were a particular sort, but so is everyone, and so was I. They seemed to value me. They took my ideas and implemented them, they supported me when I wanted to spread my wings, and they trusted me. 

Mostly, I viewed what I did as a service. I gave advice and recommendations, I listened to people’s needs. I got to know people, and got to know about their lives and their problems, and I actually cared a lot for the people I was helping. While my job was to sell, I didn’t recommend anything to someone that they didn’t need. I didn’t upsell. I didn’t cajole people into buying things they didn’t need. I acted as a resource, and encouraged people to educate themselves so they were better armed for their next visit. I dealt with prison chaplains who wanted us to fulfill orders and give recommendations for their incarcerated pagans, and sometimes spoke to prisoners over the phone to advise and build orders.

That said, there’s always a few who cross the line. These are their stories, based on my recollection. Don’t be these people.

 - There was the suave motherfucker, who tried to pick up on every woman younger than him. He was a handsome man, with Ted Bundy charisma. He’d walk around the corner of the stone area, and try to ‘run into’ his target. He’d do some bullshit PUA move to secure the woman’s Facebook info. He marketed himself as some kind of spiritual guru, but he always pissed all of us off. His particular brand of bullshit was super obvious to us veterans of festivals and public ritual. We constantly tried to run interference. My boss was savage, she would just walk up to the woman and him and tell him she didn’t want to talk to him, and maybe he should go finalize his (usually very small or non-existent) purchase. So many people got taken in my him. I don’t know what ever happened to him.

- There was the blind man who sexually harassed me, who was so taken with the sound of my voice over the phone that he told me (someone half his age) that he would like to ride me, and test my strength. He then would come in to buy his herbs and ask for me. Since he only knew my voice, I would hide in the back, and my boss would tell him I was gone for the day. He came in to ask for my schedule so he could come back and see if I was interested. I used to see him on the bus, but he never noticed me.

- There was the man who, seeing I was wearing a metal T-shirt, advised me that wearing that meant I wanted him to bend me over and fuck me in the ass. I kicked his ass out and banned him. Fuck off.

- There was the woman who borderline stalked all of the staff on Facebook. She would send friend requests once a week. I eventually had to block her, because it got borderline creepy.

- There was the man who advised me loudly that Beltane was a German holiday, and that they still sacrificed people to the fires. Really, sir? I’m pretty sure if Gunther or Hedwig didn’t come home from the Beltane fires, that would be in the news. 

- There was the woman, who on my third day on the job, told me that prior to chakra therapy she had a lot of vaginal dryness, but now she’s just gushing. All the time. And she went into great detail. Madam, I don’t recall the M.D after my name. I don’t need the wet, slick details. I work in a bookstore, not a gyno office.

- There was the woman who sang all the time. ALL. THE TIME. She would go around, and regardless of what was going on, she would sing. Loudly. Sometimes she would add interpretive dance. I get being taken in by the energy of a place, but there is a time and place. Don’t perform your ecstatic dance in the middle of my store, because it’s rude to all the people who came into the store not expecting your energy radiating all over the damn place. Plus, there are tarot readings going on at the back. Keep it down!

- There was the woman, who was the head of a local pagan group, asking if she could pay for prominent placement on our cork board of events, for her group’s ritual. She would constantly kick a stink up if we didn’t put it up in the middle of the board, regardless of what was there (including our own classes and events). My boss was flabbergasted. She also came in and allowed her small child to run around unchecked. She drove me fucking nuts. The woman turned out to be a massive white supremacist, so I don’t feel bad for often placing her flyer passive-aggressively at the bottom of the wall in the overflow area.

- Lastly, there was the large family of 1 mother and 7 children who came in. They started handling the fragile things, even with multiple signs up asking to ask for assistance. When I asked her not to allow the children to handle the fragile items as they may break, she stopped in place. She very slowly turned toward me, looking startled, and replied that I had now said it, so I would be at fault for it happening. Uh wut. Hard nope, lady. Eventually had to ask her to leave.

Retail workers in your local shops are generally not the following: doctors, therapists, probation officers, babysitters, libraries, or lawyers. Please behave like an adult. While generally alternative spirituality leads to alternative customers, it’s not an excuse to behave as strangely, abusively, or creepily as possible. Just don’t. Proprietors are often small business owners and often overworked. They barely have time to respond to emails, they are not in it for your bullshit.

There are more stories, of course. There were bad coworkers. The coworker who was legit unbalanced, tried to get me fired (backfired, as I was not fucking unbalanced) and left her husband and child to be with her online lover. The one who tried to start a shitload of drama and then quit via text message. The one who tried to constantly smack talk another worker so she would get more shifts (which didn’t work). The cranky tarot reader who got mad at me when I had a cold. The crazy reader who lost her shit at me on the phone, tried to get me fired, and then called in sick all the time at the last minute. 

There were also great stories; the dedicated workers we did have who put their heart and soul into what amounted to a retail job. The weekly customers who were a joy to talk to. The readers who had their regular customers. The joy expressed by so so many people at the shop’s very existence. The satisfaction I felt every single time someone told me I had helped them or made a difference.That is what made the job worth it.

[mikawa-province]

The Nile

Title: The Nile Fandom: Samurai Love Ballad: Party/Tenka Touitsu Koi no Ran: Love Ballad Pairing: Tokugawa Ieyasu x MC Rating: PG-13 Word Count (MS Word): 4,545 

現状否定　（げんじょうひてい） [genjouhitei] (n) refusal to accept the present situation; denial of the existing situation

Happy Birthday, Tokugawa Ieyasu!

This was not how he envisioned his evening to be.

All Matsudaira Motoyasu wanted was a nice dinner and a bath before he retired to his bedroom, in preparation for a hectic morning ahead, which would consist of heading to the airport to make it in time for his morning flight. Business trips were the bane of existence, especially when it involved flying out of his home country to meet with clients.

Frankly, while he loved his day job, this was one aspect that he thought they should do away with, as he has never been the type to mingle and be nice. Within his workplace, he was known as the sarcastic one who had to be told to stop cursing out, lest he offended the people around him with his foul mouth.

… Not like he cared, really. His workplace could tell him to tone down his cursing all they like, it's not like he would cave in. Rather, his current career choice was something he was doing to tide him over until his dream job became stable enough to be a career.

And just like every dream job, he was still not at that level where he could abandon his day job for the one he had been dreaming of ever since he was old enough to understand what he wanted to do in life.

“Huh, never realize you'd be the type to cohabit with a woman, Motoyasu. Or is she your wife, as the rumors say?” came the familiar drawl that made him want to cringe openly.

Was there any law protecting citizens from getting sued if he slammed the door and claimed that any injury that resulted from said action was simply an ‘accident’? His unwanted guest’s fingers were on the door frame, the most perfect spot for what he was planning, and he was so very tempted to close the door with as much force as he could muster. That should be enough to get his point across.

Then again, no matter how much he tried, Oda Saburou never bothered listening to him.

That, and the man was such a huge gossip, nothing escaped his notice, his hearing, and his network.

As expected of a politician, Motoyasu thought to himself darkly before smiling at his childhood acquaintance.

“She’s neither. The woman is my housekeeper.” while he did not want Oda to know what she really was to him, he figured that telling the partial truth would be enough to satisfy the other man’s curiosity.

Oda, unfortunately, did not thinking that was all there was to the story and pressed on, the notorious busybody that he was. “Really? Just a housekeeper? Yet she lives with you?” [1]

He felt his eyes glare at the direction of the shrewd legislator giving him a sly look. “The arrangement I have with her is none of your business.”

Motoyasu wished that this scenario had never happened.

It was one thing for Oda to confront him about this… unusual setup without her within earshot. Conversations like these were done at expensive restaurants, specifically private rooms that were confirmed not to have been bugged nor tampered with.

Now, with her standing by the doorway beside him… this was the worst scenario he could ever think of. Not only because it did not make sense that member of the National Diet was visiting him on a whim, but Oda was being too persistent with his line of questioning and seemed way too interested and invested with his personal life.

The look on her face said it all: confused, incredulous, and most of all… shock.

Representative Oda Saburou of Aichi Prefecture’s First District [2] was at the front door and acted with so much arrogance, it seemed as if he owned the place.

The blond man resisted every urge to roll his eyes at the sight of the most irritating man in existence. “... Can you leave? I have an early flight to catch tomorrow—” before he could tell the man to fuck off and get lost, Oda raised a hand, as if to greet her and winked!

To his own surprise and anger, she blushed.

Blushed.

Fucking hell.

“Hey you, why don’t you work for me instead? No doubt Motoyasu’s pay rate is shit, and you probably don’t even have your own room.” Oda said, referring to his apartment setup that was definitely not up to a politician’s standards. “Can you really stand to live in a place like this? I’m sure I have more to offer than he does, no offense.” the last part sounded like he had randomly thrown that in to soften the blow, but Motoyasu knew better.

Oda was a demon in his own right, and was subtly trying to provoke him, in an attempt to test his patience.

… Maybe this was the sign he was waiting for.

Oda would still be able to live normally, even after losing a few fingers, right?

Then again, he didn’t need fingers if all he did was use his personal seal [3] to stamp everything in approval.

Just before he could take a single step towards the entryway to slam the door shut, she finally found her voice.

“I-If I may, Representative Oda…” she began hesitantly, wringing her hands before looking directly at the politician. “I would like to respectfully decline your offer. I am happy with what I am doing right now, and Motoyasu has been nothing but kind to me ever since I started working for him.”

Did she just… call him by his first name…?!

He shouldn’t be that surprised, really.

Given that his western upbringing had made him immune to getting surprised when people called him by his given name [4], her calling him by his name other than ‘Matsudaira-san’ for the past few months since she moved in… something akin to ‘fluttering’ made its way to his heart, which horrified and puzzled him at the same time.

Was he really that desperate to hear his name from her lips?

He was more deluded than he thought he would be.

The office teasing was getting to him so bad, he was starting to overthink of matters that he should not even be thinking about.

Nishina Sanae was his housekeeper (not officially, but she referred to herself as such), and he was her employer and boss (according to her, anyway); such a setup shouldn’t bring such crazy ideas to his mind.

Yet… it did.

If they were living overseas, he would have been sued for harassment if he dared to make a move… however, in his home country, their current setup was one of those scenarios that people who wrote fiction for a living made millions of yen from. It was absurd, really, how the master of the house would somehow fall for his housekeeper, courtesy of either clumsy writing or a rather believable storyline that got the masses hooked.

Even so, he never did see her as his housekeeper. She did more than just housesit for him whenever he was away at his day job, or when he did his gig late in the evenings that would last until the early morning. Too exhausted to do his chores, which was brought about by his late-night job, she did it all to help around the house in order to, according to her, pay her share of the rent in lieu of monetary payment. While it sounded so sleazy that she was doing almost all the household work, as he had been used to the notion that chores were done on a give and take basis between two individuals living together, she informed him that she was more than happy to do the chores as it distracted her from falling into a mess.

Until now, she was still unable to secure another job to replace the one that had let her go, and was desperately searching for anything that would allow her to earn the exact same rate that her old job gave her.

“After all, I need to have my own place as soon as possible. It’s gonna be awkward if I’m here and you bring a lady over. I’ll be in the way and she might get the wrong idea.”

He resisted rolling his eyes upon hearing her say that. Dating was far from his mind, especially since he was focusing on his side gig, and, at the same time, trying to keep his head afloat with his day job. ‘Exhausting’ was one way to put it, but there was also the matter of his family to keep in mind.

If only his family was normal, they probably would not bat an eyelash over his personal choices, but they weren’t… exactly what the population would call ‘normal’.

Far from it.

“Really?” Oda did not look convinced. “You find him ‘kind’ when he’s forcing you to make him a lunch box everyday for the past few months?”

This fucking guy was seriously going to get stabbed one of these days. If the yakuza wouldn’t do it, he would definitely be first in line to go through with it.

How long would he be in jail if he ‘accidentally’ stabbed this guy?

… And how the hell did he know about the bentou boxes? Did Oda seriously have spies at his workplace?

He made a mental note to be careful from now on.

“No way, it’s not like that!” she said. “I don’t mind making lunches for him!”

How awkward that what he ate for lunch was becoming a point of intrigue in his company. He had hoped that when he started bringing her home-cooked meals, his co-workers would not notice it; it had been barely two minutes since he began eating when one of them did and straight-up asked him if he already knocked up a woman and married her.

At that time, he found the notion ridiculous. He had no time to ‘knock up’ a woman, with the way his schedule worked, and how exhausted he was day after day.

“Whatever you say, man, but if you’re that oblivious with the way your wife puts a lot of effort in that bentou of yours, I won’t be surprised if she finds someone else who would appreciate her more than you ever will and divorce you.”

… Maybe he really was more exhausted than he thought. His brain was giving him stupid ideas from all that romantic-related nonsense his co-workers were telling him.

Death from overwork was a thing [5], and he had to be careful not to tire himself out too much.

But before all of that, first thing’s first: Oda had to go, either as a corpse, or as a living human being.

“Interesting.” the politician was smirking from ear to ear now. “A home-cooked meal, huh… haven’t had one in a long time.”

Just before the blond man could tell him to simply go home and have his own meal prepared by his personal chef, she just had to do the most annoying thing possible.

“If you’d like, I can cook for you sometime.” she volunteered readily.

Motoyasu did not know why, but he was suddenly seeing red, and the fact that he was feeling rather murderous when Oda’s taunts and teasing did not used to affect him was very alarming. Either way, by the looks of it, it was either he ended up ‘accidentally’ stabbing the man or he shoved the guy out of his apartment, all the while acting as cordial as possible while doing said shoving.

As he still had dreams to fulfill, one of which being his side job becoming a full-time job, he opted for the latter, and made a move to close the door. While doing so, he had accidentally hit her hand as he swung his own to grab the door frame.

“Sorry.” he muttered, wondering why his cheeks felt hot all of a sudden at the contact.

“N-no worries…”

Oda Saburou rolled his eyes upon seeing the red-faced woman and shook his head. “Yeah right, you’re totally not married.” he remarked sarcastically.

“I already told you--”

“Whatever you say, I’m leaving.” before he removed his hand on the frame, he winked at the lone female among them. “I’ll take you up on that offer sometime. See you around.”

Motoyasu slammed the door as hard as he possibly could, rattling the shoe cabinets by the door. Upon seeing her wince from the noise, he sighed heavily before heading off to his room.

What a stressful day it was, having to deal with Oda, and now, the possibility of him visiting more often all because his roommate (was that how he should start referring to her?) had volunteered to cook.

Though… there was also that possibility that Oda would invite her over to his place and…

He thought he had suppressed every emotion related to wanting to kill that man decades ago; why was it making a comeback all of a sudden?

“Matsudaira-san, I’m sorry…”

He was so caught up in his rage that he had forgotten that she was still there, trailing behind him.

“... You did nothing wrong.” he said as calmly as he possibly could, despite the rage in his blood. “Go to sleep. And just so you know, I don’t need breakfast tomorrow.”

“You’re clearly angry at me.” she stubbornly pressed on, somehow misinterpreting his request for no breakfast. “Won’t you tell me what I did to offend you?”

As much as he wanted to not deal with this stupidity caused by his inability to control his emotions, she was forcing him to face the problem head on, which was something that he has been avoiding for the past few weeks.

Damn it all.

Damn Oda for taunting him.

Damn her for being so stubborn.

Damn her for being so damn nice that she was willing to cook for just about anyone who asks.

And lastly…

Damn all of his co-workers for making the things that he never thought deeply about turn into a sick fantasy that had been haunting him for months.

He was really going to regret what he would be saying next, but he had no choice. She had to back down before he did something idiotic. “... You did nothing wrong. Ask me again and you'll regret it, I guarantee you.” he threatened.

He should have known by now that she would never be one of those women who listened to him. Rather, she got defiant at times that he wondered how she could get away with that kind of attitude at her workplace… and how he was amazingly able to tolerate all of it.

It was either that, or she only became impertinent while in his presence.

He had half a mind to discipline her, but backed down immediately, knowing that she really was more of a roommate than a housekeeper, and he had no authority over her.

Still… maybe spanking her wouldn't be such a bad idea.

He stopped himself before his mind wandered off to place that shouldn't even be worth considering, yet his mind did, and conjured images it didn’t.

Ugh, this was such a pain in so many different ways, and he was feeling the effects.

“Tell me.”

That fucking did it.

He turned around and glared at her.

“... Don't say I didn't warn you.”

She didn't realize she had followed him to his bedroom until he turned around and gave her a look that told her she was in big trouble.

Why couldn't she had just kept her mouth shut?!

Time and again, her mouth was the very cause of the various problems that ended with her always getting scolded or, worse, fired from her job for ‘insubordination’. While she would rather have a roof over her head for an indefinite period of time until she could pay the deposit for her own apartment, it was still well within her roommate's right to tell her to pack up and leave.

There was always the option of going back home, but she would rather not.

Tokyo was much more fun than her hometown, which was already so overcrowded with tourists.

That, and her roommate was not at all unpleasant to look at.

Not at all.

… Unless he was glaring at her and he was looking like he wanted to pummel her.

She never knew what ‘paralyzing fear’ was until this very moment, when he slammed a hand to the side of her face as she shrieked from the loud noise and found her back pressing against the bedroom door, feeling herself shrink from him looming presence.

Was she seriously that distracted moments ago that she actually closed the door behind her, forgetting that she was not going to clean his room, and was not at all supposed to be in her ‘housekeeper mode’?

Hell, did she just potentially entrap herself in his room?!

A thousand profanities ran through her mind as she felt her heart race in panic.

He was seriously going to punish her.

‘Why did you even do that?!’ her mind screamed at her. ‘Are you seriously asking to be thrown out in the streets? And on winter even!’

She really, really needed to keep her mouth shut from now on.

That, and having the common sense to know what to say and what not to say during certain situations.

Before she could open her mouth to beg for forgiveness, all of a sudden, her peaceful world violently spun away from its orbit.

Oh. My.

The profanities that her mind was shouting nonstop had ceased, and was replaced with… dead silence.

How was she supposed to reach over the fact that her boss, no, her “roommate” was… well… to put it simply, he was pressing his mouth against hers while he leaned closer to her…? While she have had encounters like these, this was one of the only times wherein she did not recoil at the physical closeness of both their lips and their bodies.

It also did not help that he was not at all unattractive. No doubt, there were probably women who have tried to pick him up over at Roppongi in the hopes of getting noticed, but failed to do so. His angelic-like features belied the sarcasm that he kept in check, fooling nearly everyone around him. She, too, had also been a victim, both with lacking the oversight to notice the little devil behind the charming smile, as well as his rather colorful vocabulary.

Underneath it all, however, was an awkward man who had a hard time saying his true feelings. Despite her situation, not once did he force her to clean his apartment in lieu of monetary compensation.

… Was that why she was totally okay with him kissing her…?

She was seriously losing her mind.

The last thing she wanted was to get into some kind of situation that would make everyone, including her, very awkward and uncomfortable.

Roommate, boss… whatever the hell their relationship status is right now, she would rather not get involved with someone like him.

… Well, maybe after a few minutes, she would have the courage to tell him to stop.

This man was seriously too talented with his mouth. It had been a struggle not to moan as he coaxed her with his lips to open up, but as soon as a throaty moan escaped her lips, she felt her face flame in embarrassment.

He pulled away for a bit to take in some air, and she could have sworn she heard him mutter, “Too damn cute…” before kissing her once more. This time around, his hands were slowly making its way down her torso before wrapping his arms around her waist to steady her.

It was now or never.

She found herself wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on the tip of her toes, her tongue slipping within his parted lips.

There was no turning back.

He was such a deluded good-for-nothing maniac.

He was seriously going to get sued for taking advantage of his housekeeper, roommate… whatever the hell their relationship is at this point in time. Not to mention, if she does sue him, he could say goodbye to everything he had worked hard for in the past year, all because of his uncontrollable urges. Embarrassingly, something snapped in him, and… well… she had somehow thought it was a good idea to close the door behind her when she followed him to his room.

Then again, who was he to talk? At first, he thought it would be a good idea to threaten her, jokingly, and look at where it led him.

They were close to making out at this point, with her fingers unbuttoning the dress shirt he wore for work.

Fuck that, he would never see his plain old boring work outfit the same way ever again.

No doubt, his mind would associate his work shirt with the current scenario and…

God help him if he would be unable to concentrate with his day job after this—

Thinking about his day job had snapped him out of his lust-filled thoughts.

This has got to stop, he thought to himself.

Abruptly, he placed his hands on each of her shoulder and slowly pulled away from her.

“S-sorry…” why was he such a wimp, stuttering while apologizing to the person who had been supporting him for the past few months, only for him to suddenly assault her? He was such an awful person, he wouldn’t be surprised if she ran away after everything that had happened.

Hell, even he could not process everything that had happened just now.

“I mean… my apologies, I did not mean… for this to… happen.” he ended lamely, knowing that he had no reason at all for doing what he did, other than him acting like a hormonal teenager.

Before she could say anything, he turned the handle of the door to open it. “... See you around, I guess.”

All of a sudden, he was so looking forward to flying out of the country for a couple of days.

He needed to stay far, far away from her.

The sooner, the better.

He was such a mess, and so was his mind.

 Was he… telling her to leave his room, or his household in general?

As if on auto-pilot, she found herself bowing her head, muttering ‘good night’, and leaving his bedroom. How she had managed to do it so calmly, she would never understand.

It was difficult to think straight immediately after getting kissed as if she mattered, and that he could not get enough of her. Every gesture made her knees unstable that it had really been a good idea for her to hold on to him.

Which was why it had hurt when he told her that he did not mean for it to “happen”.

Just what exactly did he mean by that?

Was he regretting making out with someone like her, a nearly-penniless girl who was both his roommate and his housekeeper…?

She wish he didn’t; she didn’t regret any of it.

… Besides, it had been somewhat a wish come true, at least, for her.

Hell, maybe it was time for her to openly admit the fact that she was thoroughly attracted to the man who had been kind enough to take her in when her whole world came crashing down one day. He wasn’t perfect by any means, but he was not awful as he made himself out to be, nor she found him unpleasant to deal with.

That, and… well… there was also that one incident that had cemented the whole foundation of her infatuation towards him.

At that point, she was still in denial with regards to her feelings towards him, as she knew that the odds between them actually upgrading their relationship status was rather low. He never really interacted much with her, and vice-versa, as it had been all professional and rarely casual.

… Until that incident.

She had been minding her own business that Saturday morning when something else better than coffee woke the ever living daylights out of her for two days straight: the sight of her naked boss.

At that times, she was busy cleaning the wash basin of his second bathroom when, at the exact same time he exited the bathroom, she happened to catch a glimpse of him from the mirror placed above the very basin she was cleaning.

If there was one thing that she discovered that day, it would be that overworking one’s self was always a bad idea, as it led to poor decisions and judgments, and that the man she was living with was… well…

If she had to be honest, what she saw on the mirror was definitely… impressive.

The very memory of that impressive sight had been forever burned both in her retinas and in her mind.

That had been the very first time she had found out that Matsudaira Motoyasu was a workaholic, as he had been going home very late that week, only for him to crash and burn that Saturday morning. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she could never decide, but for him to actually admit that he could not remember going into the shower that morning and exiting it as naked as the day he was born and passing out after he put his underclothes on, it was a conundrum, really.

On one hand, he did not know that she had caught a glimpse of him.

On the other hand, that incident had forced her to confront her feelings for him all of a sudden, which had kept her up all night for several nights.

After all, how was it even possible for her to see her ‘boss’ in such an… intimate way? The man had been nothing but forgiving in every sense, even if, at times, she wanted to hit him for his callous remarks about everything.

His sharp tongue aside, it was getting incredibly difficult for her to continue to ignore her growing feelings.

While she had been very good with running away from her problems, now was not the time to be doing such, especially since her current situation afforded her with little to no options of doing so.

The best thing she could do, for now at least, was to act as if nothing happened, and that she was totally not shaken to the core with what had happened.

Yep, that was the best thing she could do with her current predicament.

With him going overseas, that would definitely make it easier for both of them. Some separation time was needed, and she would be glad to have a few days all to herself, as the last thing she wanted was to make a fool out of herself in front of him by becoming too flustered over their interactions.

Hell, she had some growing up to do.

It was just a kiss.

People kissed other people all the time… right?

She grimaced at herself, knowing that it was always a struggle to convince herself to feel the opposite of her true emotions.

The worst.

Notes:

[1]  “Really? Just a housekeeper? Yet she lives with you?” - If there’s one thing that’s odd with this phrase, it’s that it’s extremely rare for Japan households to have a live-in helper. If they do live in the same household, it means that the family that employs them are very rich and can provide lodging and such.

[2] Aichi Prefecture’s First District - good old Wikipedia helped me out on this one. First District includes Naka Ward, which happens to be the area where Oda Nobunaga was born. He was born in Nagoya Castle, by the way.

[3] Then again, he didn’t need fingers if all he did was use his personal seal to stamp everything in approval. - while some transactions in Japan can be completed with simply a signature, some traditional banks require you to use a stamp. Personal seals (私印) are used to complete transactions, and you do need to have one in case they don’t accept signatures.

[4]  Given that his western upbringing had made him immune to getting surprised when people called him by his given name - Calling people by their first name implies closeness that can range from ‘we’ve known each other all our lives’ to ‘s/he is my lover’. Most of the time, that rule applies. There are exceptions to this, as always.

[5]  Death from overwork was a thing - it’s called karoushi (過労死), and it’s very real.

Bonus: as for the title, remember, denial is just a river in Egypt. ;)

Oh wow I actually made it in time for Ieyasu’s birthday this year lmfao Happy Birthday to the Tanuki of Mikawa!

Apologies if my writing was all over the place. I’ve rushed it a bit to make it in time but I hope it was tolerable at least.

Lastly, this is the first of many planned one-shot/s involving modern AU and Tokugawa Ieyasu/Matsudaira Motoyasu x MC. Depending on the reception of this fic, I may or may not expound further.

Once again, thank you for reading!

[myownprivatcidaho]

ok as per requested, heres some tips on taking shit without paying, brought to you by a friend of mine.

now i myself CLEARLY dont condone these practices, but my friend has been doing this for a few months now so if anybody cares to share any advice PLEASE dont chime in🙄

so first my friend wants you to know there are 3 basic things to look out for: cameras, staff, and item-specific sensors.

with cameras, lots of it is hiding in plain sight. my friend usually walks around while discreetly unpackaging things and slips em in their pockets while still browsing other things. its very nonchalant so long as no floor staff sees them. my friend says surveillance is staring at screens for hours so unless you wear garrish clothing or Act Out they youll likely be glossed over (more on that in a second).

for staff, these people are overworked and underpaid. on more than one occasion my friend has seen a worker turn a strong blind eye to whatever my friend is doing. my friend advises you dont Focus on them so much as you focus on seeming as boring as possible just like with the cameras. theyre not getting paid to get up in your business. HOWEVER my friend says some staff are total corporate ass kissers so dont count on them being on your side. dont worry about it but dont count on it. dont look at them for too long or give any indication youre Hyper Aware of their presence. in my friends experience, if you dont make a show of whatever youre doing, they usually wont look too close. discretion is key. (also technically if staff sees something, they have to say/do something and can get in trouble if they do nothing. if for no other reason, my friend says you should be careful around staff for the staffs own sake).

last is item-specific sensors. youll find these often on high end clothes. they have to be removed with a strong ass magnet (my friend's understanding is cashiers use ones made of neodymium, which is outlawed as toy material due to how strong it is) and ive been told by ppl who work retail that once you have the right magnet, its a simple lock and pull mechanism. HOWEVER if anyone knows more about these please add dont your input that would be terrible!😩

other items have RFID sensors under stickers. lots of makeup and jewelry will have metal sticker sensors. what my friend does is pretend theyre reading the details on an item when theyre actually looking around it for stickers that may have sensors -> unpackage/strip as needed. apparently the stickers will generally be located near the barcode just so cashiers can scan them fast and move on to the next item. but unless an item has a sensor on it, it wont set off the alarms by the doors. HOWEVER my friend says you cant be too careful. my friend tends to just get all the packaging off of things anyways to be safe. also it means more stuff my friend can carry on their person and out the doors since its less bulky. terrible right🙄

so yeah hope NONE of that helps. accord to my friend lots of it really is just a matter of hiding in plain sight. my friend took the packaging off the umbrella pictured and threw the umbrella in their cart away from other stuff they were buying so it looked like they OWNED it and then walked right past the staff member at self checkout who either a) didnt have any questions comments or concerns, or b) kept them to themself. same for the mcr vinyl. my friend just stripped the cellophane wrapping + triple checked the salt lamp for rfid stickers, put them in their cart and didnt ring them up. morally despicable 😩

next i wanna address how to unpackage.

shoplifting is a smuggling job. the goal is to get your shit out those doors without alerting the cameras, staff, or sensors. in that case, a lot of it is about secondary locations. my friend will put stuff in their basket/cart as per usual and walk in aisles that dont tend to have many cameras if at all (friendly tip: in walmart this tends to be the craft section). my friend says to get the packaging off your item SLOWLY as to be quiet, get the item in your pocket, and then either put the packaging back in your basket/cart or drop it towards the back of a shelf while reaching for another item to feign interest in.

another secondary location is the fitting rooms. my friend says to get shit into your pockets or smuggle them into the clothes youre allegedly trying on in case staff is counting items (for instance, my friend stuffed $62 worth of panties into a onesie, didnt try on the onesie, and left the store with $62 worth of panties on while keeping $62 still in their bank account). fitting rooms are where you can really get shit done. my friend usually brings on their person 1) pocket sized scissors 2) a seam ripper for finer materials, and 3) is planning to find strong enough magnets for sensors soon. according to my friend, this way you can really look over shit for sensors before you smuggle them out. it doesnt even have to be clothing -- my friend saved $20-$30 on 2 pairs of headphones by getting them in their pocket, slowly and quietly freeing them from their sensor-ridden packaging once in the fitting room, disposed of the packaging in an in-store garbage can, and walked out a free man.

theres some very basic sleight of hand mechanics thatll definitely help you in unpackaging/smuggling. my friend got familiar with them through wikihow pages for coin tricks a few years back (for reference: article 1 and article 2) and started implementing that knowledge. ahem. Elsewhere. but i myself will give you some basics --

the trick is to hold things with your palm, NOT YOUR FINGERS.

tuck the item INTO THE PALM OF YOUR HAND and grasp it like so, so it remains (relatively) secure. it wont feel as secure in your palm as it would in your fingers, but this is a very short time youll be holding it with your palm so just power through it till you get the item in your pocket and youll be fine.

demonstration with a quarter:

how that translates to an item you may want to pocket:

some final tips my friend wants to give are to always at least buy SOMETHING. generally if my friend is running errands, they try cutting their expenses AT LEAST in half, rather than totally reducing them to $0. moderation is key. my friend says its less suspicious and looks like youre in the establishment for a nice legal reason.

my friend also suggests paying in cash so that if surveillance picks up on your Antics from a particular outing, they dont have a name or any other info to go with the face and/or give to the pigs.

and that leads my friend to their last point: WEAR A GODDAMNED MASK!!!! people have spent CENTURIES trying to obstruct facial identification whilst committing misdemeanors and now we literally have an excuse!!! (also my friend suggests you wear bland clothing -- similar principles to protest and local action. dont go all black like in protest, but the point is be unidentifiable and dont draw attention to yourself) continue to look out for the people around you. put excess money saved by these, ahem. Practices towards good causes and the people in your community. dont get workers in trouble. look out for each other and happy shoplifting!

-- signed myownprivatcidaho's friend

anyways today was good how bout yall

[yakugrizzly]

Dear me,

I know you are not okay and happiness is only a temporary event, but I am that part of your mind that already slayed situations in a way you can be fucking proud of.

Start easy. Back in school, you were always the one that no matter how few you worked for the group project, you could stand before 30 people and improvise a 10 minutes presentation about a topic you had 5 minutes to prepare for. It’s okay that it was the same 30 people that caused you to panic before you entered the class room at all. It’s okay that you avoided these situations. It’s okay that you sometimes went home to hide in video games or talked to the social worker about happier things.

And man, I know you were a kid when you fell in love for the first time. You loved her with all your guts. Her face was the sky and her laughter the sun. She was the most beautiful woman on earth. You could never draw her, the drawing would never even get close to reality.

You were impressed by yourself when one year had passed and your feelings hadn’t changed. You were again, when it counted three years. You got desperate when it were five years. You lost your shit when it was seven years. You were ready to give the world to her, and she knew. I know she told you she wants you in her life, you are that one special person she could never disclaim and she wants to grow old with you. Oh girl, little did you know she is a coward. She made empty promises and let you pay for them. It’s okay. Your domestic moments and your love was what kept the ‘friendship’ of yours together. But it had never been more. She was afraid to let you go because you were her safety pillow. Let it go. It’s okay. She is not worth your time anymore. You can see it when she is not strong enough to hold eye contact in a normal conversation or picks up a fight whenever possible. You did not use to fight, you were the perfect team. But it was all your work, not hers. You watched her living her life throughout your whole puberty and personality development. I know it hurts, but the person you thought she were will never come back. Let her go. You survived years of self torture, you can survive the aftermath as well.

Take care, please. The pressure you put yourself under is not healthy. You can create and craft amazing things. Look back at the armors you built! I know you want to do more but now is not the time for that. Once your apartment is in a better condition and you earn some money, you will be able to afford all the materials for Pharah and Volibear. Maybe you can work on Yaku along the way, but do not set time goals you cannot achieve. There is no need to do so.

I know you worked on that book like a beast. For a very long time you had no clue how to start and when 3 months of work were done, you had do re-start all over because the files had small errors that couldn’t be solved. Did that bring you down? No. Did that make you overwork yourself and catch a cold and several panic attacks? Yes. Don’t overwork yourself. It’s okay to need time. It’s not okay to leave yourself hanging.

You were so afraid to fall in love again. Lexa told you that making decisions and standing behind them is important, and all these Clexa fanfics you read were the perfect opportunity to not throw away your emotions. I know you wanted to, but I guess my screaming and kicking was enough for you to not block everything out. Your family and friends cursed you for staying in bed from morning to night. Always reading, drawing or crying. But Honey, that’s what a breakup is about. You felt like shit, and it is okay. You don’t shut out the person you loved above everything and deal with it like it’s nothing. I’m proud you did not give up. And I am proud that you gave him a chance. He knew a lot of the ways you felt, he knew what it’s like to have a non-supporting family. He texted you about The 100, you rewatched the series together. He was the only person to understand what was going on. In every aspect.

And you panicked and cried the first time he wanted to touch you. You were so afraid. You told him. It was okay. Hear me? It’s okay to be in fear after what happened at the beach when you were 11. And I am proud you said ‘No’ this time. You didn’t fail. He honestly respects and loves you. You already made the biggest step. And it’s still okay when it’s too much sometimes. Talk to him. Always. He understands.

You are not alone. You will heal. There are people out there to remind you, even if they are 7000 or even 10.000 km away. Even when they are 10 years older or younger than you. And you got a great basis. Once your and your bf’s jobs are settled, money won’t be a problem for the first time in your lives. You can build cosplays, you can go to ClexaCon, you can invite your friends and pay their flights. And if you ever feel alone again, remember that army we created. 

[jadedamber]

So you’re slugging it as a temp...

I’ve debated whether it would help anyone if I posted my thoughts on temp workers in office situations in general and in creative fields in particular, and decided, heck, yes, maybe. So here goes.

I’ve been a creative supervisor in corporate field long enough to have gone through managing a number of temps, and while some (two, let’s be real) managed to stay on to become permanent additions to our department, we parted ways with a much greater number of temps who did not work out for various reasons.  

If anyone reading wants to break into a design job, and is roughing it as a freelancer/temp for now, hopefully this will help you up your game.

Things to remember right off the bat:

I. If you’re getting hired as a temp, it probably means one of two things:

1. The company is cheap as hell and doesn’t want to pay for full time workers, and/or 2. It’s a temporary and sudden crunch time, and they need bodies to throw at the crisis.

Both of these things mean that the poor shmuck who will be supervising you is overworked, overstressed, and does not have enough time and resources to train you. It’s not their fault. Most of them would train/hire you in a heartbeat if they had that power. Most of them are happy you’re there, and are dearly invested in you picking up the necessary skills to succeed (because your failure will be on that supervisor’s head).

That means:

II. Attitude is everything. I mean, I’ve had workers who came in with false information about what the job would be (for various reasons) and panicked/resented the fact that they did not know the things we needed from them, but because some of them were open to learning, I had no problem teaching them on the fly, and one such former temp just had their second annual review, if you catch my meaning. It was a good review, too. The other ones used their time with my team as a learning experience and a resume fodder. Still others were gone after a couple of miserable days.

Plus, a good reference from your direct supervisor is a commodity (as I’m learning), and when you’re a temp, your supervisor knows you’re most likely looking around, so most of them are less twitchy about being asked for those.

III. If the supervisor tells you to please ask questions if you don’t understand something - TAKE THEM UP ON IT!  I cannot stress it enough. My teammates and I would much rather be interrupted in our work than have to redo something that was done incorrectly due to assumptions or lack of knowledge - or worse, be confronted with the mistake with 15 minutes to hand-off time. If something does not feel right, say something. If something doesn’t add up - speak up. It won’t make you look incompetent, I swear. No one expects a temp to know all the ins and outs of a particular company.

That brings me to next point:

IV. No one cares if you project-managed elsewhere. I don’t care if you delegated tasks to others before. Here and now, I am your boss and if I say we have to do it a certain way, don’t fucking cowboy it out. If you think there’s a better way, and your supe seems cool, by all means, voice it (in a concise way, please) but don’t salute ok and then do it your way because it’s better in your opinion. You may not know something. There might be reasons that are beyond your scope of knowledge. If your boss seems too busy/assholish, ask your teammates. 

V. Ask your teammates about your supervisor. If they seem reluctant to answer, that should be as clear a signal as if they complained to you for an hour. On the other hand, in my experience, if the boss is cool, people will be pretty happy to tell you. Take them seriously, but watch non-verbal cues, of course, as those are more accurate, usually.

VI. If your goal is to learn as much as possible and move on - GO ALL IN. Ask your teammates questions, watch how they do things, pick up the lingo, volunteer for difficult tasks. And most of all, shut up and listen.  I mean it kindly. If your goal is to learn, then don’t waste your time teaching (or explaining how wonderful you are). You’re there for knowledge, not an ad campaign (unless you’re temping at an ad agency (I’m hilarious, I know, shut up)).

VII. Remember, you’re “just a temp”. I don’t mean it in a derogatory way, but as a reality check. So you think you’re more talented/better worker/whatever than this full-timer over here? Watch and learn what it is that made the company hire that person. You might not want to copy them, but you should at least know what the rules of the game are.  Until you find your stride/voice/strengths, it helps to absorb whatever you can.

VIII. Remember, you’re “just a temp”. This also means that your career is not hinged on this job, so if you keep being treated like crap, pick up the subtle (or not so subtle) cues, and talk to your agency about finding another gig. It’s not worth getting shat on if there are other projects out there, and you won’t know until you ask your rep. 

IX. Make yourself useful. Literally if you’re a temp and you become hella helpful to your supervisor, most of them will fight for you to become full time, if that’s at all a possibility. It doesn’t mean you have to be Gal Friday (or Guy Friday) and be a perfect employee. For example, one of my teammates freaks out every time I split her project with another person, but in a crisis situation she’s the one most likely to stay late and get it done, and I value the shit out of her for that. Another one is kind of slow and I don’t give her any of the most urgent projects, but trust me, if there’s anything that takes finesse and painstaking labor, she’s my go-to person. So, if you act like your boss has to, like, deserve your best effort - nobody cares. No one owes you to “get to know you” or discover you. You might be a fabulous painter, but if you can’t cut a straight line (literally a recent problem we had), I’m sorry, but I can’t use you. Go find a job painting, not working in a fast-paced corporate environment.

X. Take them seriously. This should be a no-brainer, but somehow, it’s something that keeps coming up. I respect your right for self expression, but if the company policy states that you can’t wear graphic t shirts, please fucking listen. If you’re supposed to come in at a certain time, please listen. If you’re told that you’re supposed to check in after a certain task, even though you’ve been doing that task since before you were born and can perform it asleep, drunk, in negative degree weather, on your head - please. please. fucking. listen. 

I just had to let someone go who was very surprised at the news, despite having had several private conversations/warnings regarding following instructions, and it was frustrating for both of us. They thought they were being very productive, because they were doing so much. I thought they were a waste of everyone’s time and resources, because they kept screwing up - not for lack of knowledge, but because oh... they really meant it not to do THAT to a cricut machine... huh. And oh, I guess THAT’s why you save this file a certain way. Like, I don’t got time to deal with that, bye. 

BONUS: If you’re let go, very good chances are, no one will tell you the reason. Your now former supervisor is still overworked and overstressed, It’s an unpleasant conversation no one wants to have, and - since you clearly haven’t made good enough impression - nobody cares about you to give you some tips for the future. 

That’s ok - take the silence as your one huge cue, try to remember all the times things went wrong and what, in retrospect, you should have done differently. Again, you were just a temp, it’s not like you messed up your chances at the Project Runway or American Idol or whatever. 

Just learn. 

It’s not fun, and it’s tough, but hey, you’re the one who wanted a creative job.

Plus it could be that it’s not even you - the agency’s fee might’ve gone up, the big boss has deemed that the crisis has passed (whether it’s true or not), or the budget for a temp has dried up. Most big bosses I’ve dealt with really seem to not consider the fact that temp workers have lives and budgets like the rest of us, and it’s ok to just tell the agency we don’t need them to come in anymore. If your supe is cool, and they have insider knowledge, they WILL warn you if they at all can and they feel like they can trust you not to throw them under the bus.

Use this also to figure out if that is the field you want to be in. One of my best teammates had no clue what they wanted to do after college, temped for my team, and realized they were really into consumer goods (vs. say, web or ad jobs). Another temp knew she wanted to do publishing, worked with us anyway, confirmed it for herself, and left to follow her dream. You just don’t always know right from the start, and it’s ok.

All of the above used to seem very common sense to me, but life disabused me of that notion. And because I realize not everyone is on the same level in life, I hope me sharing these tips will help someone to succeed in this field that increasingly wants more and more experience for entry level positions. Because sometimes temp work is how you get there. 

Go get ‘em, tiger!

[akamaru01]

Ya know what I didn’t want to really get into the shit show that is the discussion on the Sonic movie but here we are

I’m gonna try and make this like an analysis, what it looks like happened in chronological order, and what the hell is going on and maybe a bit on how people are reacting

For a bit more info on me I am currently a studying 3D artist because I will get a bit technical at times

I’ll also put it under a read more because not everyone wants to see it so HERE WE GO starting off with where I think shit went wrong in production (Spoiler: People high up on the food chain probably fucked up big time and interfered too much)

(Note: This will be mainly about the design, not about story)

So obviously as with everything it begins with the original designs made by a character designer. Now from what I have seen the studio actually doing all the CG work for the movie also worked on the cinematics for Sonic Unleashed that released back in 2008. Love or hate the game, you can’t deny that it looked and felt like Sonic. So clearly the studio itself knows what it’s doing.

However, the movie might be made with Sega helping (maybe) on the sideline but the production is controlled by Paramount. That means everything goes through Hollywood Big Wig Executives who probably don’t care about source material and also have no creative abilities and also don’t listen to anyone besides themselves and their investors. SO here is a very short, exaggerated idea of the conversations surrounding the design.

Exec: Hey we’re making a Sonic the Hedgehog movie so make us a Sonic that can fit in a live action movie.

Designer: Okay here you go he looks like regular Sonic but with some texture/material/fur touch ups to look more real

Exec: Too cartoony/Not real enough/Something something make it more like humanoid

Designer: But if we do that it wont look like Sonic, might be too creepy or weird, just looks weird/bad in general

Exec: I can have you fired

Designer: Here it is but people won’t like it

Exec: Yes they will, now get to work and make some posters people will love it (or not, it’s hard to say if they would really care as long as people see the movie and it makes money)

You get the idea. This probably continues all throughout production, maybe eventually they give up trying to change minds or they’re just too tired or it’s too late who knows.

So the posters come out and oh boy they were a thing that exists now

And so people do the thing and dunk on the look of it, get in their criticisms, which I think criticising or not liking something is well within peoples rights ya know?

At this point maybe the conversation comes back something like this

Artists: Yo we told you people wouldn’t like this let’s change it while we’re still relatively early in production (mabey) and can adjust it and not spend months with actual animating/lighting,post production

Execs: No no this is fine who cares it’s not even moving yet it’ll be fine

Artists: No it won’t

Execs: Jobs

Artists: Fuck, alright

So nothing changes, time passes, and here we are and by the way

Trailer editor: Hey for the background music I am thinking something upbeat and fun like the Sonic music from the games

Execs: No no make it edgy and cool like Gangsters Paradise

Editor: .... fucking why

So we got the Sonic trailer drop and guess what everyone dunked on like this isn’t even a shock at this point people analyze and criticise fucking everything (especially 3D) this time it just so happened to be on a massive fucking scale

So from a personal note my reaction was “This looks like shit I ain’t gonna bother with it”. From what I saw the general consensus’ were either basically what I said or “This looks like shit I’m gonna watch it anyway”. Absolutely no one I saw said “This needs to be fixed before the movie comes out” from what I saw people basically were just ready for it to flop and we’ll try again later. Even if some people were calling for a redesign I doubt even they expected what was coming next

So, this seems to be what ended up happening

Execs: -trailer release-

Internet: Yo this looks like shit wtf

Execs: Oh shit we fucked up

Internet: Yeah you did

Execs: Don’t worry we’ll fix this

Internet & Artists: What

Execs: We’ll overhaul and redesign him before the movie releases as scheduled

Everyone else: WHAT 

Because here is what that means. The artists and animators will have to redesign (or maybe go back to an old design), adjust the model or maybe worse completely redo it, change textures, possibly adjust or recreate the rig, REANIMATE ALMOST IF NOT EVERYTHING, adjust lighting, re combine the new CG footage with the live action, make sure it all looks good and no clipping

What’s most likely is that this is gonna be hell for the studio leading up to release if they don’t delay the movie, which they have not said anything about yet and that’s not a good sign. 

But now here is where the biggest variable comes in: How much will change?

Minor changes that don’t affect overall proportions and placement of details means they could keep the same rig and animations and just check for touch ups. HOWEVER these kind of minor changes probably won’t help much, if at all. Honestly besides textures and small changes to fur the only thing that can really be adjusted without much worry is the teeth because they can be the same size and they don’t have to deform or do a lot of crazy movement.

But in order to fix any of the actual problems with it, besides teeth, will require a crap ton more work. Any changes to the eye shapes, sizes or placement, and any changes to the mouth and surrounding areas will require a new or heavily adjusted face rig, which will completely throw off eye movements and lip syncs and those will need to be redone.

Any changes to proportions of any kind will require an adjustment of the rig, which could throw off the animations already set and need to rework them almost everywhere, and maybe redo them completely in a worst case scenario. If the hands change at all they have to adjust every single shot where he is holding or touching something, same with his feet, and really same with his head, quills, freaking everything.

All this in 6 months? Doable, but not without a fuck ton of unnecessary sacrifice.

But we don’t know what this redesign will look like, so it’s impossible to speculate on how much these artists and workers are going to be fucked over and pushed and destroyed for this.

Basically, odds are the artists are gonna be the ones paying for the mistake of those higher up on the food chain, and if the movie does well then, similar to what recently happened with game studio Bioware, they’re going to think “Oh it’s okay that it’s all shit for so long and then we push and destroy our artists at the last minute because it works” which it fucking doesn’t. If they had listened to their people at the beginning, this could have been avoided. No matter what some people still would have been like “ew 3D sonic live action” but no where near this degree.

So the final thing to touch on is some of the reactions after the announcement of redesign. Because I have seen... a lot. All across the spectrum.

I am going to try and talk about some of the more basic groups that these reactions fall under that I’ve seen.

Before we get into those though I want to say something that kind of applies to all of them: I think criticizing the design and look is okay. Talking about how you don’t like it and why and how it could be better is good, outside of ya know the extreme stuff like death threats or whatever, not that I’ve seen those really around this project but they probably exist.

So the first one is basically where I stand on the issue personally. The design sucked, they should have listened more and let it be more stylized and it still would have fit (because suspension of disbelief is a thing and what they have now certainly doesn’t fit in any more than regular Sonic would). I expected them to release it, it flops, no more Sonic movies for a while. If they were gonna fix it they should have done it a long time ago. I am not happy that they are going to punish their staff and artists for their own mistakes and now they’re trying to cover it up.

Now the next argument is one I have seen around here and there, and I understand it, but don’t completely agree. It’s the argument that we, as a collective group, complained about the design, and now we are at fault that the artists have to redo it. There is some truth that if the internet did not go “This sucks” then it would be over and it would have gone on to release as planned. Personally though, I feel like this takes away 2 things: 1) The right of consumers to dislike a thing and 2) The blame away from the executives who made the decisions not only about the initial design but also to change it so late in production. Should they not be held accountable as well? There is a piece that occasionally goes along with this along the lines of “You’re getting so wrapped in a kids movie” or something like that but like: This might (?) be a kids movie but really the target audience is largely the adults who grew up with Sonic. Also bad is bad and kids movies can be great they don’t have to be trash and also kids movies can be enjoyed by people of all ages.

There are smaller sections of discussion, usually quickly stamped out, about how “They fucked it up this is their fault” placing blame on the artists, but this usually comes from a place of ignorance and not knowing how the process works and who makes all the final decisions. The other side of that is “Whatever it’s gonna be shit no matter what I am/am not gonna watch it regardless” or “Idk looks fun I’ll watch it either way”.

To basically sum it up The people in charge probably fucked up, people rightly were like “Lol look at this shit” and now those same higher ups are gonna overwork the artists to fix their own mistake

[laseroy89]

Desk Flora

I leaned back, taking a break from a long day of editing proposals. The cheap office chair creaked underneath me as I stretched fully, cracked my knuckles, exhaled loudly, rubbed my temples and all those shit one normally does to release stress. Oh man, I needed a pay raise - been overworked is an understatement. My fellow workers and I were overwhelmed by the countless projects that upper management had thrown at us, trying to milk us for all we were worth.

I slowly became aware of a weird sound coming from one of the cubicles to my right. I cocked my head in that direction, trying to figure out what the hell it was. Who the hell was making it? Why the hell was he/she disrupting my peace? As I listened intently, I realised it sounded like someone muttering gibberish, like…oh I know exactly what it was. Reluctantly, I stood up and walked to the desk two cubicles away from mine.

“Hey Gillian.” I leaned on the cubicle wall, trying to act as casual as possible. I pointed at a potted plant that I haven’t seen before on her desk. “Hey, that’s a new one. What’s its name?”

Gillian jumped up at the sound of my voice, and whirled round to stare at me, a guilty look plastered on her face. She had been bending over close to her table, her face buried in the leaves of her little ornamental plants - she called them “desk flora”.

“Her name is Giselle.” Gillian looked really jumpy, and she was avoiding eye contact with me. “Sorry about the noise. Trying to….”

“Nah, it’s alright, I actually feel that your plants are good for releasing your stress - wait what’s that?” I squeezed past Gillian and reached into the leaves of another plant, picking out a mug with the words “World’s #1 Dad” emblazoned on it. It still had some coffee stains inside. “Lance has been looking for this for a week!! What’s it doing here?!” I whispered fiercely to her, trying not to be heard by surrounding coworkers.

“Sorry Bryan. My plants…I…sorry, I just like to…can you please help me return it to Lance? Perhaps just sneak it back on his desk?” Gillian looked up me, her eyes pleading for forgiveness. Well, I couldn’t resist helping out a coworker that I have a soft spot for. I nodded and returned to my desk with the mug, the gibberish starting once again behind me, albeit a tad softer.

I felt sorry for Gillian. When she joined the company, she roused the interest of the entire office when she started decorating her workstation with her desk flora. It was a good conversation topic to have, and she was a pleasant person who welcomed any questions about her plants. Now, with the abrupt increase in workload, all of us naturally felt more stressed, but Gillian…she became more withdrawn. She grew so attached to her plants that she named each one. The cactus was Oliver, the African Violet was Justine, the Snake Plant was Wyatt, and the recently-added Aloe was Giselle.

Being in the same team as her, I wasn’t too worried about that. After all, everyone has their own methods for dealing with stress. But I was surprised when I caught her talking to them about two weeks ago. Now, that was abnormal enough, but she vehemently denied it when I jokingly asked her about it. She repeatedly said that she was calling someone, or just thinking things through, even though I saw her whispering to the plants. It didn’t help that coworkers kept finding their belongings around her area, maybe around her desk, or stuffed into the leaves of the desk flora. Small stuff like staplers, cups, utensils, and once a calculator. Some staff have lost their temper at her, and she could have been fired on grounds of mischief or even theft, if we hadn’t been so pressed for workers.

We had so much work to do, that our entire department was ordered to put in overtime for Monday and Wednesday, in order to finish a really, really huge number of projects. While most of us were quite pissed off and grumbling about “lack of work-life balance”, “I need a pay raise”, I saw the look on Gillian’s face changed from a passive expression to that of…horror?

“Gillian, what’s wrong?” I tried to placate her as we walked back to our workstations after hearing that particular announcement. While I knew she was stressed, I didn’t expect such an adverse reaction.

She turned to look at me, her stricken expression never leaving her face. Her eyes bored into my skull for a good five seconds before she regained her composure and put her hands on my shoulders. “If you can…please leave the office after working hours. Please. I’ll do your work for you.”

“Gillian, don’t be absurd. I have thirteen plans to redraw, and two proposals to edit. And I know you have a similar amount of work. It’s very kind of you but no, that’s simply impossible.”

Gillian’s shoulders sagged. She looked so defeated. I would have comforted her, but I had totally no idea what she was making such a big fuss about. Dammit, it’s just overtime. If anything, we should be getting to work now.

“No matter what happens - whatever you hear, smell, see, sense…don’t acknowledge it.” She leaned in close to me, speaking softly and slowly, stressing every word. I gave her my best “What the fuck” expression.

“I mean it! Just…just pretend you never see anything.” She pleaded with me. I couldn’t disagree, and watched as she went back to her desk. What the hell was that?

As I resumed my work, I couldn’t really focus. I would jump at any sound, and any sudden movement at the corner of my eye would cause me to turn around. Gillian’s warning made me nervous, for some reason. Perhaps it was the way she said it? Or maybe because I was the only one who was warned?

As the time neared 9pm, I slowly began aware of a weird sound coming from one of the cubicles to my right. I cocked my head in that direction, trying to figure out whether it was Gillian’s weird chanting again, before my exhausted mind realised that it was coming from the cubicle to my immediate right. Which was unoccupied.

I didn’t hear anyone enter that cubicle.

It sounded like…leaves rustling.

I looked up and saw a leaf. More specifically, the characteristic long, banded leaf of a Snake Plant. Curling round the top of the cubicle wall, pulling itself up, and….two cold, emotionless and completely black orbs appeared. It took me a while before I realised those were eyes. They stared at me, before a small hole appeared beneath them. A small hole filled with rows upon rows of sharp thorns.

Gillian’s words suddenly rang in my head, stopping me from screaming bloody murder. “Don’t acknowledge it.” I made my face as neutral as possible, and slowly turned to face my computer screen. And continued typing.

I ignored the steely cold gaze raking the side of my head. The rustling started again. I couldn’t focus on my work but I kept my gaze straight ahead. I remained fixed in that uncomfortable position, filled with uncertainty and fear, as the plant - Wyatt, wasn’t it? - lowered himself on the table, crawled slowly over it - over my *hand* - over my keyboard - over my other hand - and paused to stare at me. The same cold stare, unblinking, challenging me to make eye contact again. I didn’t dare to do it, because I didn’t want to find out what would happen to me, and also I didn’t really like looking at that abomination. After about one minute, Wyatt finally moved on to the next cubicle.

I heaved a sigh of relief before I heard other leaves rustling. It seemed to come from everywhere - behind me, to my right. I adjusted my blank second monitor, only to see the reflection of an African Violet - Justine? - crawling on the floor behind me. Oliver the cactus was climbing up where Wyatt appeared earlier. I didn’t know where Giselle the aloe was, and I didn’t want to know.

It was the same - I could feel their eyes on me, watching my every move. I trembled with fear, cold sweat forming on my brow, but remained still. Slowly, they moved on.

I guess this was what Gillian warned me about. It couldn’t be hallucinations from being overworked, as I definitely felt Wyatt crawl over my hand, and Oliver left some small little holes on my cubicle walls (Thankfully I moved my hands away in time).

A scream rang out in the silence of the office. I jumped up, but almost immediately, a hand forced me down. “Nothing is happening.” Gillian hissed, sounding both angry and persuading at the same time. “Go back to work.” I had no choice but to sit back down.

More screams followed, along with more noises. The tearing of paper. The ripping of wallpaper. Cubicle walls being knocked down. Desks and chairs being overturned - no, thrown around. The rushed footsteps hitting the floor fast. Bodies hitting the floor, struggling, punching, kicking. And the most of all, the sound of leaves rustling. It resembled ordinary sheets of paper flapping and rubbing against each other, yet it sounded so ominous, so eerie. I sat down still at my desk, staring at my screen, but had long forgotten which proposal I was working on.

Gradually, all the other noises subsided. The rustling became less vigorous, but more rhythmic. The entire office was now silent, except for the rhythmic pitter-patter of leaves.

It was nearing 10pm, when the office fell deathly quiet. I wanted to stand up and find out what the hell happened - no, I wanted to leave the office and get the fuck home.

“Bryan? Can you do me a favour?” Gillian beckoned to me. “It’s alright. It’s safe now. We’re ending work soon.” She said as she saw my moment of hesitation. I tamely followed her to her cubicle.

My jaw dropped. Plants were scattered all over her desk, covering all the paperwork with a thick layer of leaves, roots and dirt. Vines and roots were similarly strewn on the floor. I distinctly remembered that she didn’t have that many plants today.

“What…what happened?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, Bryan. I know you haven’t seen most of these plants before. They’re new.”

I bent down, picking up one of the vines. They weren’t brown like normal plants, they were….blond. The leaves had red smudges….that looked like lipstick. The flowers didn’t smell natural, they smelt like deodorant and cologne.

“That’s Lance.” She gestured at the vine in my hands. “That’s Gertrude, Margaret, Robbie, Lenny….” Those were…those were our coworkers’ names.

“I’m sorry about what happened, they normally just steal small stuff.” Gillian shrugged helplessly, her voice ringing with regret. “It got a little out of hand. Do you mind helping me load these desk flora to my car?”