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loweya-blog · 24 days

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Cinderella (Obey Me Edition)

(Part 2, )

Once upon a time....

You were broke. Your job barely paid minimum wage and most of your cash went to paying the rent. Things like buying yourself new clothes that actually looked good on you or any sort of hobby items were out of your reach, unless you wanted to skip breakfast for the next few weeks.

Money had always been a difficulty for you but especially hurt when your friends went out to a fancy restaurant or some event where you couldn't attend due to your minimal paycheck. Perhaps you told yourself it was fine. Perhaps you hated it. But you had to move forwards, looking towards an uncertain future. Making do with what you could get at every turn.

Yet months of such conditions can wear a person down. Most of your time was taken up by work, creating an isolating atmosphere. The loneliness within your heart grew with every passing day as the world around you began looking duller and duller with each passing day. All you wanted was one nice night out with a few friends...

One day, a letter arrived.

It was right at your doorstep despite the fact you had a perfectly functional mailbox. A black envelope with gold trimmings and a dark red seal laid right at your door. When you took it inside and opened it, you found a beautifully handwritten invitation by some guy named Diavolo.

"Dear Recipient,

Congratulations! You have been selected to attend the Royal Seven Night Masquerade held by Prince Diavolo this year. This event shall be inviting two humans and two angels to help encourage relations.

Please sign the letter below to confirm your attendance to this event.

Yours sincerely,

Diavolo."

You blinked and stared at the letter for a few minutes. Was this a prank? You'd never heard of any prince Diavolo before. Still... the idea of a masquerade party sounded nice, even if it was just a prank in the end. Without thinking, you signed your name on the letter.

For the rest of the day you went about your business. The next night, you heard a knocking at your door. It was 7pm and nobody was supposed to be visiting. The idea that it could be your landlord made you internally groan as you went to open the door.

It wasn't the landlord.

A man with short dark green hair and a long fringe on his left that reached his nose. He wore a black tailcoat with gloves and had a prim and proper air about him.

"Are you MC?"

You silently nodded, still confused by this stranger and a bit wary at this un-welcomed visitor.

"Excellent. I'll be escorting you to this evening's masquerade."

Masquerade? What was he-

Then it hit you. The letter. You'd originally thought it was just a prank by some kid. The idea it may have been real hadn't even occurred to you. For a moment, you were stunned. The stranger was rather patient and seemingly amused by your confusion.

"I....I can't go to the masquerade," you explained when you finally found your voice.

"And why is that?"

He hadn't even changed his amused expression, just looking at you with a slight smile.

"I have nothing to wear," a part of you hated admitting it but in this moment you had no other excuse, "And I don't have a way to get there."

"Is that all?" Even after explaining all your reasons, the stranger seemed undeterred, "If that's the case, may I borrow a teapot if you have one?"

Your face must have twisted into a sour expression at the thought of giving up your one teapot, because the stranger was quick to reassure you.

"I promise, it will be returned to you unharmed."

Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice or your own curiosity. Either way, you ended up handing the precious teapot over. The stranger set it on the ground and took a few steps back. Right before your eyes, the teapot began to grow as swirls of colorful light encircled it.

When the light died down, a beautiful lavender blue carriage with a spout, handle, and golden wheels with little encrusted diamonds stood in place of your teapot. Your jaw dropped at the sight. Were you dreaming? What on earth was happening?

"The carriage will bring you to the steps of Diavolo's castle. As for your clothes...."

The same strange lights that had transformed your teapot now surrounded you. In a matter of seconds, your pjs had transformed into a gorgeous outfit of the finest silk and dripping with accessories you could only dream of. Even your hair and makeup were done to perfection in the most flattering of ways. Upon your face was a beautiful mask that would fit in any fantasy ball scene. And on your feet were a pair of glittering glass shoes that were surprisingly comfortable.

"I... how.... what?" you stammered.

"Now, there are a few rules you'll need to be mindful of," The stranger continued on with a smile, "First, don't tell anybody at the masquerade you are human, for your own sake. Second, leave before the witching hour. Once again I recommend that for your own sake. And to encourage you to follow the rules, this spell will only last until midnight. Once the clock strikes midnight, this spell will be undone and you'll be left in your pjs with only a teapot."

The stranger looked at you closely.

"Do you understand?"

Once he got a small nod from you, he simply bowed and left you alone to your own devices. Now it was all up to you. Would you go to the ball or would you stay home? Even if you disliked big events, it would be a once in a lifetime opportunity.

You carefully stepped into the magical teapot carriage and sat upon the pink cushioned seats within. The wheels of the carriage automatically began to turn and you were whisked off to the masquerade ball.

(Let me know if you guys want a part 2! :D)

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bubuslutty · 1 year

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Angel on Duty: the first meeting

All Parts

pairing: demon/angel fem!reader x 141

word count: 2.1k

tags: semi-canon compliant, reader is described as having a tail and horns but calls herself 'Angel', do what you will with her real nature but she's simply sent down to fulfil a wish, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Angel', 3rd person pov, minimal description of appearance, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warning: none

summary: the 141 boys have a fantasy to get captain price the fuck of his life, but also share it amongst themselves, a shared cumdump if you will. which basically translates into "we need a woman to break our miserable old man, and break us in the process and rebuild us again just to do it all over again." they're just miserable and pent up and horny and want to be taken care of, that's all :)

a/n: there's no smut in here cuz this is just the intro. bon appétit either way 💞 also let me know if u wanna be added to my cod taglist 😖

What do you know about prayer? About wishing? Blowing birthday candles and wishing upon a star?

Ever since the beginning of time, it is man's nature to wish, hope and pray. To whom? That has always changed and shifted throughout the centuries, with prayers sent to different deities, angels, ancestors and so on.

But what humans don’t know is that all of their prayers, all of their wishing, if it was strong enough, if they really want it, really bad, their wishes just might become reality. And that was all done through a meticulously built system in another realm, where what humans considered angels worked day and night to realise them.

“Hold on, you’re not about to give me this much work when I’m literally getting paid minimum wage.” A woman said, waving a folder around in the air with wide eyes.

“If you have an issue, you can take it up to HR.” A man said unimpressed, not even looking up from his computer.

“Haha, funny. Seriously, why the hell did I get one wish and what? 8 humans??” The woman said, slapping the folder on the desk, making the man hiss in annoyance.

“Why must you be so difficult? It’s one wish and 8 humans who have the same wish? What’s so hard to understand? Get down there and do your thing.” The man said, visibly irritated, trying to shoo her away with one hand.

“You sent this down to my office and did not expect me to have questions?? If all little boys' wishes about becoming the next Ronaldo could be realised, Sandra down the sixth fraction would have 82 thousand humans, alone, to go through!” The woman said, hands on her hips and standing with her knees to the desk’s edge, casting her shadow on the man sitting in front of her.

“Who’s Sandra?” The man asked.

“I don’t know.”

The man finally stopped staring at his computer screen and stood up, rounding up his desk and grabbing the folder in his hand, “Did you even read the reports?”

“No, just the first page.” The woman said, twirling a hair strand in her finger while the man stared at her with an unimpressed look.

“For fuck sake…Okay, see here?” He said, pointing at the wish, which was a paragraph long. The woman nodded and he kept going, “This group of humans share the same wish, or fantasy to be more realistic, and it’s all linked together through one man.” He explained, flipping to another page and tapping a finger on a man’s profile and picture.

“Oh, he’s beautiful.” She said with a gasp, eyes flashing with a red light that made the man gulp and quickly look away from her face.

“They all work together and have this complex dynamic of friends, but also family, but also this relationship,” He said, flipping through the other profiles, and letting her look at every picture.

“What does that mean?” The woman tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“Their whole thing is a tangled mess of different dynamics with each other, but it all comes down to the first man I showed you, he’s like the glue of their team, but he’s what keeps them whole and sane, individually.” He said and glanced back at her and noticed her confusion but also the amazement on her face.

“They are fascinating…”

The man placed the folder back in her hands and turned to get his desk phone, “They are, now I’m going to call Beck to confirm some last details and you should be down in the mortal realm by tomorrow.

“Tomorrow?!”

“They’re moving in tomorrow, and so are you.” He said and watched her leave his office with a shocked but excited expression nonetheless. He walk out of the door without having to touch it for it to wing open, the long black tail swinging back and forth, poking from under her short skirt and the horns that almost grazed the top of the doorframe.

The woman stood in front of a beautiful house in the middle of London, hugging a white cat with black ears and a black tail to her chest as a lorry parked in the street, next to her taxi. “I guess this is where I’ll be living for the next weeks… Not bad.” She said, petting the furball in her arms while the taxi driver removed her bags from the trunk.

“Thank you.” She thanked the man with a smile, and he smiled back, a blush high on his cheekbones and reluctantly left, glancing at her over his shoulder every two steps.

Then another man approached her, dressed in a blue shirt and hat, “The keys ma’am?”

“Oh yes, sorry.” She gasped, placing the cat on the ground and running to her bag, retrieving a set of keys and handing them out to the man with a small smile.

“Thank you.” He nodded and started walking to the house while other men dressed in the same uniform spilt out of a van, surrounded the lorry and started helping each other in carrying furniture inside the house while she stood to the side, watching.

Suddenly another car parked in the driveway of the house right next to hers, and she watched with curiosity as four men exited the car, looking tired but excited at the same time. They looked huge, carrying dark green and black bags on their shoulders and heading straight to the door, but without glancing at the woman.

She fought against a grin and held eye contact, her cat, Kuromi, purring against her leg. Then she moved before she could think.

The four men froze at their doorstep, still staring at her as she walked up to them. That day she was wearing a back suit with black heels and a black bralette instead of a button-up, the trousers hugging her hips so well along with her legs.

“Hey, I just wanted to introduce myself as your new neighbour. I’m Angela Ali, but you can call me Angel.” She introduced her fake name and gave herself a better nickname, internally snickering at the irony.

“Well, hello, we’re also new here.” Soap spoke when nobody said anything, he even smiled back at the beautiful woman.

Her eyes widened in surprise, both at his thick Glaswegian accent and the information he just gave her (which she already knew but she had to act the part), “Really? I had no idea! Maybe we can be friends and look out for each other in this neighbourhood.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’m Johnny MacTavish, by the way.” He finally introduced himself and stuck out his hand, and when she shook his hand, he felt tingles at the bottom of his spine, making him let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m John, John Price.” The second man said, sticking out his hand and keeping his eyes respectfully on her face and nowhere else. It was so stupid, he was tired, yes, but not that tired to be easily dumbfounded by a random beautiful woman. And John prided himself in his manners, so when his eyes landed on her body as she walked up to them, he couldn’t help but drink in every dip and swell like he was deprived.

That’s so embarrassing.

Angel smiled and shook his hand, shivering when his warm big rough hands engulfed her smaller one. He was the same man she called beautiful that day she received her wish file. And he was, not in the way humans usually described something as beautiful. But to her, despite his huge body, thick thighs and arms, deep voice and beard, his eyes held something in them that pulled her in. She could sense the man’s thoughts, emotions, wants and needs.

“Nice to meet you, John.” She smiled at the man and turned to greet the other two, who both introduced themselves as Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick.

Simon was wearing a simple black surgical mask, covering the lower half of his face. But she already knew what he looked like, she has his profile. She knows he has a scar that runs through his upper lip on the left side of his face.

His pale blue eyes were intense, looking at her, calculating, careful, as if she was a threat, someone to look out for.

Angel let him be, staring as much as he wanted.

Kyle on the other hand was all smiley, radiating warmth and friendliness. He was handsome and charming, and made Angel want to talk to him for two hours straight. Did I mention his smile? That man's smile is absolutely beautiful. You would never guess he's a soldier, a killer, a beast in the field.

“I’ll let you get settled, now. See you around!” She said and turned around, walking back to her house, noticing that her bags were moved and Kuromi was meowing by the door while men in uniforms were still working as fast as they could, unpacking everything and placing the furniture where it belonged. She reached the door and picked up the cat, gave her a kiss on her little head and looked over her shoulder and saw how the four men were still staring at her, and they all immediately stumbled inside their house, slamming the door shut behind them.

Angel giggled and finally stepped inside her new home, shaking her head.

Angel lay on her stomach, on her new queen-sized bed with a pizza box on her side and a laptop casting its bright light on her face. She took another bite of her pizza and read through the document on the screen, which was a digital version of her wish file, with extra documents going more into detail about each man she was to work on for the next weeks.

“Alright, what do we have here? Childhood trauma…Oh, oh, poor lad…” She frowned at the screen and read along the lines explaining some of the things Simon went through, she had read almost everyone’s files in detail, and it was already dark out, probably around 11PM. Angel checked the time and gasped when she realised it was actually 2AM.

She even had files about their careers, she just quickly skimmed through them just to see if there was anything serious to watch out for, but ignored everything else, just because she wanted to give a chance for the men to surprise her, it wasn’t very fun when she knew everything. Plus she was going to spend a couple of weeks on this job, so she might as well make it fun for herself.

Her horns and her tail were nowhere to be seen because it was a rule to hide one's true identity when in the mortal realm, or at least the form they like to wear in the wish realm. And hers was a pair of horns and a tail because she thinks it's funny to take on the form of a demon when humans think their prayers and wishes go to angels.

She was not an angel, nor a demon for that matter really, her whole existence revolves around realising human's wishes, and her form? She can take on anything she feels comfortable in. But when she's interacting with humans, she must take on a human form to hide her true nature.

Her phone suddenly rang and she flinched, looking down at the vibrating device. On the screen, a clock and a reminder to 'EAT FOOD' could be seen. She turned off the reminder and hummed, "Yeah, yeah, I'm eating.."

You see, Angel, still struggles to get into the habit of eating regularly when in human form. No matter how many jobs she's completed, she somehow still forgets to eat because you don't have to eat in her realm, you don't even need to sleep or go to the toilet. So setting herself a reminder on her phone is necessary if she doesn't want to suddenly drop.

"Oh, I forgot to read my own files." She gasped, sitting up straight and placing her laptop on her lap. After a few clicks, she opened her own files, highlighting her new identity and timetable.

"Okay, I'm an only child… Single, of course, duh, and my job is a sex therapist!" She said, brows raised and quickly reading next lines. "I only have to go to the office two days a week?... Nice. And I'm a PhD student… in psychology?.."

Angel groaned and fell on her back, her laptop still in her hands, it seems like she needs to start doing some research on human education.

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kcokaine · 21 days

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Yikes, your shit gets lazier and lazier. Like how did you manage to make Naoya even uglier than the real one? And why are all your terrible ocs just bad rip-offs of other characters?

Hater anons are the pillar of my mental health bcs everytime i read this i feel so much better knowing there is a sweaty american with 9/5 job being paid minimal wage while i get to hang out with friends and do what i love. Are you jealous? Are you jealous of an eastern european fella that is chill maxxing? That is not very sigma of you 💔

#iba asks

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elsiebrayisgay · 6 months

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there is something that feels so insidious to me in the way certain loved ones will wish me well. sometimes it feels like there is an obvious implication that the presumed goal not just of my treatment but of my life is the absolute minimization of symptoms, which is probably fine on the surface. symptoms feel bad, right? so why shouldn't you do everything you can to avoid them and keep all the "normal" function you can?

however, i think there is some implicit ableism that has snuck its way into that framing and is doing a lot of the lifting, it turns out. first, it implies a narrative of the "illness warrior"—life with an illness is often depicted as a struggle against the disease, and to lose your life (in terminal cases, as with cancer) is to "lose your fight." even in non-terminal chronic illness, i believe that framing is still common, at least from those who are not sick around the chronic illness patient, though there are some sick people who identify with that language. for some people, it can be empowering, giving them the strength to be a warrior and get up and fight, but for me, it feels like it puts the severity of my illness in my hands. to be very ill is to lose ground and fight badly. to some extent this is true, in that there are certain factors in my life i can change that will positively or negatively impact my health, but more broadly, this idea feels brutally unfair. if i am in pain because of a weather-triggered migraine, am i to simply get up and move my entire life in time with the seasons to avoid storms? it feels terribly unfair and lays responsibility for my symptoms existing or disabling me at my feet.

secondly, the high valuation of symptom-free—or as close as possible—existence feels to me to be assimilationist with capitalist values of labor. there has been a lot written about intersections and cross-applications between queer and disability theory. comp het translates to similar ideas of comp-abledness, which i think is a large part of what's going on here. i would extend this further to use queer assimilation as a framework for disabled assimilation. in the way that traditional values will lend more legitimacy to a queer couple who are monogamous, who follow established norms of marriage, cohabitation, etc, there is legitimacy to be had for disabled people who support themselves without or with minimal benefits, who are gainfully employed, who "do not let their disability stop them." yet disabled labor is undervalued especially in the laws that allow for disabled workers to be paid under minimum wages and the bleak landscape of legal accommodations being insufficient, difficult to enforce, at an employer's discretion, or all of the above leaving disabled workers in the hands of petty tyrants. disabled people are encouraged to keep working but not protected or treated fairly when they do. i believe this extends beyond work as well—the minimization of symptoms allows for a disabled person to keep their own household and do their own chores without support, and is therefore the valued goal, however unrealistic or difficult. in what i believe is a critically under-read essay, sunny taylor outlines "the right not to work," defending the value of a disabled life which does not fit norms of productivity in the workforce or the home. so i wonder: if there are supports available, why restrict myself from them? if there is a life that does not involve recovery to the norm but rather prioritizes quality of life, isn't that worthwhile? if there is a life without recovery to the norm but rather recovery self-directed towards the activities and functions a patient wants for themself, would that be so bad, even if they are still sick, even if they still need help?

i hope for such a life.

#disability theory #disability #chronic illness #sorry you can tell i have a theory degree from reading this post i'll try to hide it better in the future

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wumblr · 3 months

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since my union, UMAW, is advancing a "livable wage" bill in congress

(by which they mean requiring every streaming service to pay at least one cent per stream, which would require 1,500 streams/hr or 240,000/mo to reach minimum wage, an amount that would get you a little less than halfway to the top 10k spotify monthly listeners, but i'm splitting hairs)

here's what i think is the most recent/accurate pay per stream per service breakdown. it is further complicated by the fact that spotify now does not start paying until you reach 1,000 monthly streams, which excludes about 87% of its library from payment. i haven't distributed to spotify since 2020, when joni mitchell and neil young pulled their catalogues over joe rogan's six figure salary from spotify for vaccine misinfo, although i also have not pulled my catalogue. i believe this is how the union started, but they might have been around before that

if you want, switching to a different paid streaming service may pay out more for the same streams. tidal and napster pay most (napster is a google product now), i use deezer, which used to be one of the ones that pays a full cent per stream. i would strongly encourage switching away from spotify, and i have been encouraging that for years, but that's up to you

if you really want to maximize your payment to artists, check their website to see where they're suggesting you buy music. for most smaller artists this will be bandcamp fridays, which don't happen every month, but the cut that bandcamp takes is minimal, so buying anytime is fine. spending the same amount as a streaming service (~$10/mo) would go a lot farther in payment to artists if you spent it on one direct sale and pirated everything else. no, seriously

live shows are also a great opportunity, tours often operate on horrifically thin margins (this is why little simz cancelled hers) so ticket and merch sales are always welcome, and the difference between profitability and loss can come down to a small number of sales per show

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respectthepetty · 1 year

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Since I decided the best way to make it through Our Skyy 2 with minimal damage is to drink my way through it, welcome to the sixth round of

CockTails in the Skyy!

This week's drink is Deja Brew since we just saw this group six days ago:

dark coffee for our "tough" boss

vanilla brandy for the boss's babe

soy milk and ice for the men holding it together Tubtab and Jack

whipped cream and chocolate shavings for the disgustingly sweet Three and Zo

I don't like coffee, I didn't like the series, and I don't think I'll like this, but I like brandy, I'm obsessed with how Cher says "Boss" and anything that gets me more ThreeZo and Jack is worth watching.

Bottoms up!

What in the Tom, Dick, and Harry is happening?!

Call him honey, darling, or DADDY! <- Aoi gets it!

Cher feeding Gun who has a visible mustache shadow is hitting a sweet spot.

This is what upsets me - JimmySea and ForceBook have the domestic chemistry down. They excel at, yet had the wildest plots to work with. I hope Last Twilight and Only Friends do these men justice.

The yellow writing that keeps popping up is throwing me off.

Nice to see the wild ass color scheme is still going strong here, Reon!

The friend group is the reason I showed up every week!

Zo threatening his man while smiling is why I love him the most-est.

Cher made that imaginary intern very cute, but we all know Gun, who doesn't like skinship, would not touch that man like that.

Aoi getting more screen time this outing makes me upset that I didn't get MORE of her in the series. She was the best officemate.

I wonder how the office feels about Cher being ridiculous during office hours when he doesn't even work there. I'd be entertained, honestly, because I love other people's drama.

Okay, this is the tough boss I waited to see the entire series! Where was this jerk for twelve episodes?!

The entire office is really asking Cher to get his man together before they Julius Caesar his ass.

Cher constantly wearing Gun's colors is warming my ice cold heart.

I would love to believe that Gun doing 500 sit-ups is unrealistic, but then I remember Force's body-ody-ody and . . . do what you gotta do to maintain, sir.

I've written this before, but Force looks like a marble statue, and I need him to be in a BL about gym bros. Book can play the guy looking to get fit, and Force can be his trainer. Don't let those arm veins go to waste, GMMTV!

Gun is smiling like a ventriloquist, and it's creepy af.

Y'all, I'm really liking this installment. It's the Vice Versa one all over again. What are they going to do to eff this up?

Cher to Gun - "Are you finished or are you done?"

Why is everyone acting sus at this dinner?

I'm clutching my pearls that Cher's bright idea was to have Three and Zo fight.

I'm so conflicted. I want to be upset, but now Gun just gave Cher jewelry! Then Gun was cocky, and Cher slapped him on the ass. I like this.

The Deja Brew has too much caffeine and I feel my heart beating (I don't like reminders that I have a heart), so I'm gonna be a sober seahorse for the second episode. I'm already regretting this.

Moving into Cher's tiny apartment with this small tub thing instead of Gun's apartment with that huge ass tub was a dumb decision.

Every part of me hopes Gun acts just as amusing as Cher in the office.

Deadass, if I worked in this office with a boss whose boyfriend was this entertaining, I would be thriving. I would never have to drink another drop of water because these antics would keep me hydrated.

Jack has no fucks to give about this role-play situation unfolding during his billable hours.

Did this man have confetti in his pocket for this exact moment?! I'm telling you that I'd be living my best life in this office!

If I was that security guard, I would NOT have paid that 80 baht for Gun. Boss man does not need my hourly wage.

You'd be a custard apple or a pomegranate cause you're being extra! <-I'm using this because I love good commentary about *fruits*

I can't keep writing this, but I genuinely like this! Cher slamming his hand on the table and Gun immediately babying him. Urgh! I'm pleased!

This is giving me What's Wrong with Secretary Kim vibes.

Something keeps happening with the lighting to make the guys seem angelic, and I want to know what pressure the lighting department was under to make this work under these conditions.

I have been a vegetarian for over two decades, yet my meat-eating friends are the picky eaters, so I pop off like Gun just did every time I have to order them food. Why is the order so complicated?! Why three different places?!

Gun having printer and copier issues is the office drama I crave.

"That last sentence was lit." - GMMTV's translators deserve a raise.

Oh my gosh! WHERE IS PORSCHE?!

Aoi gets where I'm coming from. She is not going to let her boss and his boyfriend ruin her happiness. In fact, she embraces the chaos.

Cher is playing with Gun's face, and I'm going to fully admit that I liked this entire installment. They even exchanged colors!

The game idea is actually kinda okay-ish.

This role-playing unlocked a kink in Gun because now he wants to receive and give regularly-scheduled commands. Okay, sir, I see you.

Cher's shirt reads "Error Since Birth" and I LOVE IT!

I'm shocked and appalled about what I'm about to do. I thought I was going to be upset watching this, but I really enjoyed it. The color-coding (that I hated during the show) was consistent here unlike the other previous installments (Vice Versa, The Eclipse, and My School President), the repartee between Cher and Gun never missed, and their chemistry was good as usual. There was no Porsche, we didn't find out about Jack's previous relationship, and I'm pissed we didn't get THIS during the actual series, so . . .

8/10 CockTails for giving me most of what I wanted long after I wanted it.

Now, BRING ME MY SLUTS!

And before anyone asks, I'm in a long-term committed relationship with Pat's hair. That's how much I love it.

#Our Skyy 2 #Gun x Cher #episodes 11 & 12 #a boss and a babe #Cocktails in the Skyy #bring me Pat's hair!

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markwateneymemorialcrater · 8 months

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I’ve had a bit of a realization about who so many young adults or even older adults feel so unsatisfied with their careers. The boomers were the last generation that was really invested in. Like paid apprenticeships and internships were a common if not the primary career path for people. And people were paid enough to incentivize them staying because companies saw labour as an investment, not a reluctant cost to be cut at first convenience.

As someone in their late twenties now feeling like I’m in a dead end job that doesn’t interest me and doesn’t seem to have much possibilities for promotion or career upgrading, it feels miserable. And I’m realizing that all my life I’ve never had anyone invest in me. The closest is we may get financial help to go to school but that is becoming an increasingly pathetic gesture when post secondary education gets you massive debt and the ability to get marginally over minimum wage. Employers more or less expect you to show up trained and then learn everything else on your own on the job with minimal shadowing or official training.

How many jobs have you all started where you are several weeks in and still have no idea what your doing and can’t seem to get anyone to actually show you?

And granted. This is painting with a broad brush and certainly reeks of “back in the good old days” sentiment. But I do feel that there is likely some truth to it.

#generational gap #work culture #society

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mbrainspaz · 1 year

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the perfect worker— Companies hate them!

Everything is so stupid. I hate that my mental illness combo makes me such a perfect productive company asset and I hate even more that at the same time every company actively tries to use those attributes that make me such an ideal worker to deny me access to jobs and fair pay. So what if my brain isn't standard issue?! I worked extra hours because I enjoyed it, I never missed a deadline, I needed minimal direction, I always got along just fine with coworkers, and one time when I was on vacation the office called me to ask where a client file was and I told them the exact file path from memory while waiting to cross a street. Because I also designed their whole filing structure. And their QC system. From scratch. While managing like 400 accounts after sales got done with them. And did I mention I was the only one in a company of 50+ who could troubleshoot the printers? It was a label printing company. I was making about 35K. Living in a city.

My whole existence in this capitalist hellscape has been a study proving that no amount of innovation, productivity, proficiency, or enthusiasm for work will ever make a significant impact on what I'm paid or how I'm treated. Oh yeah, and 99.9% of companies disqualify me from even interviewing with those bullshit automated 'personality tests'. I'm sorry—can the totally 'normal' guy who knows all the socially appropriate lies required to complete your bullshit tests actually show up for work on time and then accomplish a week's worth of tasks before lunch? Not from what I've seen.

Anyway, eternally funny to me that I'm capable of all that and more, and yet the only way I've managed to survive lately is by shoveling shit for a company that would totally replace me with an undocumented worker who they could pay less than minimum wage if they could get away with it again.

#corporate american hellscape #capitalist hellscape #rant #sometimes I just get really mad about this for a minute #injustice #mental illness #rage post

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darkobssessions · 1 year

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I'm getting really angry at how nothing about work or workplaces is geared for neurodivergents and especially autistics.

Absolutely nothing from the set up, the requirements, the social element, the hours, the expectations, the environment. Nothing.

Not the resumes and cover letters, nor the interviews, nor the vague conditions and agreements upon employment.

Am I a bit late to the party? Maybe. But it is because I only found out I was autistic in 2021 and have a patchy work history, leaving jobs, doing part-time gigs, and burning out in my education career.

I'm in severe burnout but also in a position where I have to get independent and fast away from my abusive family. I've basically dedicated my existence to job search, resume writing, and applications for the last 2 years (I lived with my partner for some of that time but had to leave the UK due to no full time job/visa and then with my parents the rest of the time working at the only career I've had that's paid me consistently: education).

The only problem is passion projects are impossible when you're burnt out, and careers often burn autistics out (because of set up of workplace cultures). I love teaching. I don't love demands, social elements and sensory overload.

My experience basically qualifies me most strongly for educational jobs.

But I am finding everyone is requiring so much all of the time, even in the process of hiring and giving you so so so little that it isn't even worth it.

'We'll hire you, but maybe only one day a week.'

'We don't know when you can start, HR has a huge backlog right now we will let you know when we know more.'

'You need to do these 5 trainings before you begin and go book fingerprinting and background checks.'

They want you to give everything and pay you a part-time wage.

Or they want you to give 40+ hours. Or super early in the morning (which is not possible with my burnout, mental health, moods and physical issues). Not to mention the 'benefits' of a minimal number of sick days they pat themselves on the back for 'awarding' you with, let alone miniscule holidays, and sickeningly low pay for cost of living.

It's all so hostile for NDs.

At first I looked and looked for something fulfilling, and since I have experience, education makes sense. I love teaching. But it's not great if I don't want to be burnt out and on the edge of meltdown daily.

Now I am looking for something part-time that leaves me alone and I can come home from not having been completely overloaded (maybe warehouse work, factories, bookstores, grocery stocking). I thought I wanted to be invested in what I was doing but coupled with what I'm experiencing and what I've read from others about their burnout and jobs, it looks like this may be the way to go.

To put this into perspective, even if something seems like a really good fit because of your experience/career/background or interests there will be a catch or a requirement that it is impossible to fulfill. There's a part-time youth instructing job at a recycling centre gearing them up for graduating and careers which sounded like a great fit until I got to the part where it said it needs you to have a driving license since you will 'ocassionally' need to transport students (ages 16-24!).

Why?

Why must I be an educator AND a social butterfly AND a driver and navigator?

Why?!

It's cheaper and better for them if their workers do everything but it's prohibitive to those of us that have issues and disabilities.

I'm sorry but my abilities as a teacher have no bearing whatsoever on my ability to drive. Driving extracts so much energy from me, is terribly dangerous when I am overwhelmed or melting down, and causes me to panic regularly. I don't notice as much what is going on around me when I am overwhelmed and make mistakes if I am pressured. I have trouble recognising a route even if I frequent it. Places look different at different hours of the day. My ability to navigate is extremely low. My ability to teach is honestly why I was born.

Why must every single role expect you to be neurotypical?

Why to protect our mental health can we only do minimum wage jobs?

Why is this system stacked against us?

I'm so frustrated right now and if I could just make some money to be independent of abuse I could funnel it into creating BETTER for us because we sure as anything deserve it.

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woleczeek · 10 months

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like every real student im always broken and i always need more money

and cause i hate the feeling of being poor i decided, that i will start extra job during holidays (so far i have been playing the cello, but because of the INFLATION it stopped to be enough)

and good god, how adult people are dealing with shit like this? u work all day and still are getting paid the minimal wage

but the worst (thats not a suprise for me) is that i have to TALK and DEAL with people

my introvert soul is dying so i decided, that i will cry here, cause nobody knows me on tumblr 🥰

#holiday #holiday job #job #money money money #pay me money #i need money #im cryin

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wayward-dreamer · 1 year

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I saw your post about the writer's strike and was wondering what is exactly is happening?? There's been a lot of noise on Twitter and Instagram but I just understand what's right and what's fake. I hope it's over soon and the writers can get what they deserve, and I hope it doesn't affect you in anyway either. I would like to show my support so please lmk how I can!! Much love and solidarity xoxo

Hi, anon. Thanks so much for this message. I can completely understand being overwhelmed by the info on Twitter and Instagram, so its no wonder you're feeling confused on what's right or wrong in regards to information. I'd be happy to clear a few things up for you. Firstly though, I need you and anyone else who does end up reading this to know that I'm in no way an expert, and I know is what's come from the right sources on Twitter and Instagram because they are actually the ones who are the experts here. In basic terms, the writers are asking the studios they work for to be paid fairly, compensated in terms of residuals from streaming, proper weekly wages, new structure to writers' rooms, duration of projects and much, much more. This post from Twitter is the WGA negotiations on the left, and the AMPTP (Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers) response on the right. And this from WGAWest on Instagram will explain the strike in minimal terms for you, but basically the fight is against the major studios: Netflix, Apple, Amazon, Disney, Warner Bros, NBCUniversal, Paramount and Sony which are all under the umbrella of AMPTP.

With that, I would suggest only following @WGAWest and @WGAEast on Twitter and Instagram, for all the latest developments from the strikes as they are posting extensively. They're posting photos from different writers at the strikes, so I suggest following some of them, too. Get a look at what's happening on the ground.

In terms of showing support, if you live close to L.A. or NYC then joining the picket lines is the best way to show your solidarity. If you're driving by, honk those horns in support! Really lay on them, make it hard for the big suits to do their jobs, just as much as they've made it hard for writers to theirs.

If you live further out (or way across the pond like me), then social media is your next best tool. If social media had been more prominent during the 2007-08 strike, it could've benefitted the fight so much. So tweet, retweet (don't like, it does nothing for spreading the word), add to your stories, post videos in support of the writers. This thread from a writer has some links to the Entertainment Community Fund, which is raising money for writers' assistants, crew and other people who could affected by this strike for however long it takes for studios to give writers the fair deal they're asking for. You can also visit wga.org the official site of Writers Guild America - West, and go to WGA 2023 Strike Rules to learn the full extent of what PRE-Wga people like me can do as the strike continues.

And there is one other thing you can do, but it's completely up to you and what you decide. I can't be the one to make this decision for others. A lot of people have been cancelling their subscriptions to the streamers, and citing their reason as "Other" and writing "I stand with the WGA" along with it. This is definitely a way to hit the studios where it hurts, because if you start to lose your audience then you better listen to the people who actually create your shows, huh? If you feel this passionately in your heart, then I say go for it, I know I have. Netflix is the one that most people are cancelling more than the rest, as its the most major problem for writers, giving that they can last the longest without new content. So I'm leaving that decision with you.

Lastly, this doesn't affect me YET. It could in the near future, if the strikes continue over the next few weeks, and months. I hope it won't come to that, that the nearly 12,000 writers in the Guild will receive what is rightly owed to them. I really don't think they're asking for unreasonable things. So we have to see what happens next. It's a scary time, but it's also exciting, to know that the fight for expressing our creativity is so fiery and passionate.

Thanks again for this message, I hope it helped.

#wayward-dreamer answers #anon message #wgastrong #wga strike #i stand with the wga #wga support #pre wga and proud

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