#worker's duties

[temeyes]

half filo!Gaz after connecting with his roots (audio from here!)

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Sometimes you just gotta kidnap adopt a character from their canon and give them a loving home full of enrichment like character development and happy endings and queer sex.

[pommunist]

Tilin's admin also put out a statement https://twitter.com/diannavx_/status/1764435970307264575 (sorry you became the hub for this news, thank you)

Tilin’s admin statement !

[lyril]

pleasant interactions with strangers will make your day wonderful and restore your hope in humanity

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Imagine if we all collectively wake up tomorrow and stop using money for anything. Like baristas still making coffees without charge and bus drivers refusing to accept payments and stores just let ppl take groceries. Ppl just continuing their lives without imaginary numbers being involved, enjoying movies and helping each other garden and running Libraries.

And to watch the billionaires running around throwing temper tantrums over it be the funniest thing in the world I can't wait 💕💕💕

[queenofperv]

LMAOOOOOO listen up it's storytime

so I put in my resignation letter almost a month ago and my boss still haven't talked to me about it

(it's ok, I have no desire to talk to him either xD)

BUT the rumor has it that he's apparently offended by the whole situation! because I put the letter through the HR (like any normal person) and didn't tell him about that directly nor did I give him a copy personally! he had to learn about it from the HR! the blasphemy!

He like full on didn't talk to me and avoided me and like pretended I'm air the whole time

Holy fuck 🤣🤣🤣 but ok there's more

yesterday he took me aside and hits me with this line: "When are you going to talk to me about what you submitted?"

Hmmm 🤨 weird wording...

but I said that we can talk whenever he has time, no problem. We didn't have the talk then because he was busy and it was almost time for me to be off anyway. "We definitely have to have the talk this week." ok... 🤨

so today he came in earlier than usual, so I think IT'S TIME, but no, he's busy, has several meetings, so on and so forth, nothing unusual, I thought nothing of it

BUT then I chatted with a coworker about the whole thing and she said something that exploded my brain

she thinks that he doesn't talk to me, because he expects me to like… make an appointment and explain myself. and like... CHASE after him for him to make time to talk with me. about why I'm leaving

like DUDE xD

X-FUCKING-D

I HAVE NO WORDS

[pagib1g]

get a load of this asshole

[o4o41]

Satisfactory outcome

[insteading]

I lived with Grandma M for a year after college-- Grandpa had just died, and both of us wanted to live with someone who'd known him. (I adored my grandparents when I was a child, but I lived halfway across the country from them and really only saw them once a year, and it is a different experience to become close as adults.)

Anyway: I think sometimes about how every Sunday night, she made a big bowl of popcorn and ate it with my aunt and me while snarking at the terrible theology of "Touched by an Angel."

Me: You loathe everything about this show other than the theme song. Why watch it? Grandma M: [250-word carefully argued five-point essay that boils down to "Sometimes it's fun to be a hater."]

She died about 10 years too early for Tumblr, which is a pity, because I think she would have loved it.

[diejager]

First Cw: Smut, sex work, porn, cam girl, dildo, riding, dildo mount, self-hate, depressive thought?, whorshiping, tell me if I missed any.

Part 4

He watched your live, your body writhing in your sheets, back arched and head thrown back in pleasure. His body unmoving, body rigid underneath his armour, eyes unblinking and back straightening against the backrest, as he stared at his screen. He never touched himself when he watched you from afar, eyeing your hips rolling against the mount you strapped to a pillow, riding the dildo you suctioned to the plastic stand.

You rode it slowly, chest heaving while you ran your hands over your breasts in a sensual way, your finger running over your glossy lips, caressing your jaw and down the curve of your throat, your sweaty and shimmering skin. Your hands travelled down the valley of your tits, pinching your perky nipples with painted nails, a pretty red, powerful and vibrant —sexy in every manner. His eyes followed the hand that dipped down your stomach, over your slick mound and spreading your lips to show your viewers the silicone cock that stretched you out.

His hot breath sounded loudly behind his mask, it would've fogged up his glass if he wore any, his laboured breathing coming out in shoulder-moving puffs. His cruel eyes dilated, pupil rounder than usual as his eyes stuck obsessively at your cunt, his ears ringing with the loud, echoing squelch of your cunt and the eerie silence of his locked room, and body strained with self-restraint, fingers curled into a fist. He felt dazed, mind numbed to all but you and what you brought out of him: his slurred reaction, his oversensitive nerves and his increased heat.

You were like a drug to him —addiction, ascension, delirium. Your mewls breaching his broken mind and your bouncing body burning itself into his eyes, hearing and watching you gush around the toy, cunt fluttering wildly as you shuddered, hair sticking to your forehead and skin flushed. Despite his growing needs, the swelling that tightened his pants to an uncomfortable extent, he made no move to chase it, to soothe the pain and ache that filled his body, like a wave crashing against his scarred and disfigured body, and the wind blowing him away like the insignificant specks of sand that caked the earth.

He wouldn’t touch himself after the show, sending you money for the perfect show and drowning himself in a freezing shower to wash off the sin, his greatest mistake of loving something so precious and beautiful. He let his cock grow soft under the water, the occasional jump of his cock reacting to the arousal that still lingered in his bloodstream and the coolness of the water.

He couldn’t help himself, he promised, he fought, he glared, but nothing could stop a wandering mind, a needy and vulnerable shell of a broken man that wanted nothing but a fleeting moment of love, of affection —of utter devotion.

“Hello?” The voice was as sweet as the last time he heard it, the softness and affection that deepened his scars, “Nikto?”

“Милая,” his voice came out in a low rasp, throat dried and muscle dehydrated. He spent too much time hiding himself than caring for himself, “You did well.” [Sweetheart]

You laughed, your gentle and angelic chuckle at his compliment —fitting the stage name you used, Seraphim. He was reminded again why talking to you felt like a sin, blasphemy committed by him to his goddess. Perhaps he shouldn’t have called, daring to be so near a being much greater than him, pure and fragile. For all his self-restraint, he was a weak, weak man, always chasing for more when he’s already lost so much.

“Thank you,” you sighed. He heard sheets shuffle, your body rolling to your stomach, face propped up on your chin while he spoke to you on the phone, “When are you coming back?”

“Cкоро.” [Soon.]

Part 6

Taglist: @warenai @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @cutiecusp @ladyof-themoon @yourdaydreamerfan @blackhoodlea @daisychainsinknots @under-the-dirt @moansteur @iamnotfinedaddy @0alk0msan @katzarantos @danielle143 @bubbletae7 @artemeow @nes-kopi @notspiders @waves-against-a-cliff @brokenpieces-72 @princessboohaloo @petwifed @craxy-person  @aldis-nuts @randominstake @yanderestory @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @redeveryflower @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @cummunistcat

[direwombat]

woe, the first wip wednesday of the 2024 be upon us

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton to share some wippy goodness today. here's some more katc interlude ii from gus' pov. please enjoy this VERY ROUGH draft (with brackets and everything!)

There, sitting in the chair beside Augustine’s bed, is none other than Joseph Seed. 

Augustine nearly doesn’t recognize him at first. Not without the sunglasses. They’re a common source of ridicule among his co-workers -- “What kind of asshole wears piss-colored glasses, anyway?” is a common refrain amongst the townspeople whenever the preacher is spotted outside the island where he built his Church. 

Once, back when Augustine was naive and new to town, he’d made the mistake of coming to Joseph’s defense. “Maybe they’re prescription,” he’d posited, believing it to be harmless speculation. “For migraines or something.” 

He’d never been more quickly ostracized in his life. 

It’d taken weeks to get back into his fellow rangers’ good graces, and even then it was only because Ben had convinced them to give him a second chance. “C’mon, he’s new. Kid didn’t know any better.” 

Augustine learned to keep his mouth shut when it came to Joseph Seed and his family. If it’s taboo to say anything nice about the man, then he’d rather not say anything about him at all. 

Hastily, Augustine lifts himself into a seated position and combs his fingers through his hair, trying to make himself look more presentable. “Mister Seed,” he starts, before realizing he has no idea what the appropriate honorific is. “Uh…Pastor Seed?”

“Father is fine,” he smiles. The corners of those bright blue eyes crinkle warmly. 

“Father Seed,” Augustine corrects, but the way Joseph lips thin like he’s biting back a laugh tells him he still didn’t get it quite right. Anxiety coils tightly in his gut -- Already fucked it up -- but he swallows around the lump in his throat, pushing it down. “I ain’t mean for this to sound  rude or ungrateful, but,” he hesitates a moment, warily eying the man in the doorway. Broad shouldered and donning an army field jacket, the man has a hardened and calculating look in his eyes; one that’s very similar to the look Sybille has whenever he drags her out to meet new people. He’s being sized up. This man is judging his actions, weighing his worth, and the rhythmic beeping on the heart monitor quickens at the idea that he may find Augustine wanting. His attention returns to Joseph’s curious gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“My brother, Jacob,” he motions to the man in the doorway, “told me about what happened to you last night. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

Although Augustine’s pulse slows to its normal rhythm, blood rushes to his cheeks. “Oh,” he says dumbly. “I -- uh…” His hands clasp together and he bashfully averts his eyes to stare at his worrying fingers instead. “I’m okay. Been better, but…I’m alright.”

“That’s excellent to hear,” Joseph says gently.  

Augustine nods and a long stretch of unbearably heavy silence settles over them. He chews on the inside of his cheek until the bitter metallic tang of blood bursts on his tongue, wracking his brain for a topic of conversation, but he comes up empty. “I’m sorry,” he says after an awkward cough. “I ain’t much of a conversationalist and I’m…Well, I wasn’t…”

“You were expecting someone else,” Joseph nods. [insert something about the compassion and understanding and warmth in his voice, rather than the anger and hostility augustine anticipates]

A lame, “Yeah,” is all Augustine can muster in response. His fingers fidget nervously in his lap. “You, uh…You ain’t happen to know if my sister’s here, do you? I gave Ben my phone so he could call her, but.. Um…” he trails off again. Whatever drug they’ve been using to sedate him and numb the pain has also stolen the second half of most of his thoughts as well. 

Joseph sighs heavily and his brows knit together. He removes his glasses, neatly folding the arms and tucking them into the breast pocket of his vest. A warm hand comes to rest on top of Augustine’s clasped ones. 

Augustine knows what that gesture means. It’s what Mama did when she sat him down to tell him that she had cancer and what the kind paramedic did when she told him she was sorry for his loss after he’d found both Mama and Daddy dead in the living room. It’s the kind of comforting gesture one gives before delivering bad news or condolences. Yet as Joseph’s long, spindly fingers wrap around his own, the warmth, accompanied by a sympathetic squeeze manages to keep the knot of anxiety in his gut from growing larger. 

“The phone lines have gone down,” Joseph murmurs. “I’m afraid we haven’t been able to get through to her yet.”

Augustine’s eyes go wide. “The phone lines are down?” he repeats. The County is no stranger to strong winds ripping through the valley, but last he checked the forecast hadn’t predicted anything strong enough to knock out the phones. “What happened?”

taglist: @marivenah, @florbelles, @statichvm, @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @poetikat, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman, @madparadoxum, @voidika, @strangefable, and anyone else wanting to share a piece of their wips!

[viktuurionice]

The benefit to being afraid of being late, and leaving 2 hours early because I needed to get something from the store only for it to take much less time than I thought, is that I get to clock in early and therefore get extra money (not a lot but) it's something

[girderednerve]

Florida banned local governments from providing increased oversight for workers exposed to high temperatures earlier this year, saying businesses and federal regulators alone could keep laborers safe.

But the Tampa Bay Times found far more workers have died from heat across the state than authorities even know.

The missing deaths bring recorded heat fatalities in Florida to at least 37 over the past decade — double the number federal regulators had tallied during the same period.

Employers are supposed to notify the U.S. Occupational Safety and Health Administration, which oversees worker safety, about employee deaths within hours. OSHA has fined six businesses in the state after discovering they didn’t follow the rule when workers died from heat.

The Times identified 19 additional heat-related deaths kept from the agency. The 19 deaths identified by the Times that are missing from OSHA’s tally included day laborers, roofers, construction workers and landscapers. Many died after working for lawn care companies on private homes, some just hundreds of feet from air conditioning and running water.

Taken together, the Times found that Florida companies have failed to report the vast majority of heat fatalities as required.

Workers died after hot days spent roofing houses, packing boxes and harvesting fruit. Many were young. They’d just started jobs, unaccustomed to Florida’s stifling heat and humidity.

It was the work they could get after being released from prison. After not finishing high school. After leaving families abroad to build a different life for the next generation.

The vast majority were people of color. At least half were immigrants.

Some said they believed employees died of preexisting medical conditions. Others said workers’ compensation insurance told them the deaths weren’t work-related. One said the laborer who died technically wasn’t an employee.

Experts also said that companies employing undocumented workers might be less willing to report fatalities for fear it would draw attention to their operations. One of every five deaths that regulators knew nothing about was an undocumented laborer, the Times found.

Extreme heat is more deadly than any other natural disaster plaguing the U.S., killing more people annually than hurricanes, tornadoes and floods combined, according to the National Weather Service. Climate change is only increasing the threat.

[courtana]

Lol apparently an (ex) Sledgehammer dev for COD is accusing Infinity Ward of being SJW, anti-American and ultra far left.

Sir, this is a military FPS video game. Be fucking for real.

Edit: God I wish it were those things, so they can stop putting fucking Isra*li operators in multiplayer that no one actually wants to play as.

[ticklystuff]

HI FRIENDS IVE WORKED 12 HOURS EVERYDAY THIS WEEK I HOPE I CAN LEAVE BY 5 TODAY big doubt lol PLS HOPE WITH ME :)))

[highlandswarden]

A fat guy sorta just appears, holding some kind of object in his hand. Smallish, with a roundish upper half that's vaguely pointed and glistening like it's a bit wet, the other half a tan color.

"Hey, I've been learning how to make ice cream, and my dream intuition tells me that you, my haunted train conductor friend, are exactly the man who should try a taste. I'm Mike, by the way, I don't think we've canonically met."

The man holds up the ice cream. It does look familiar... Like Ingo's seen this before. It's also oddly enticing, like he already knows the taste.

@osha-cafeteria-worker

I have no idea what canonically means, but, um, thank you very much. I am Warden Ingo of the Pearl Clan, if you did not already know.

*Oddly, something about being called 'haunted' seems... strangely correct. As if being associated with ghosts - or a ghost in particular - is... what should be happening. It feels so oddly right that he simply doesn't think about it further.*

Ah, thank you again. This looks... good.

*He accepts the icecream, politely, and gives it a little lick. Immediately, his eyes widen.

It tastes... nostalgic.*