#task runner

[jingle-jangle-spurs]

Robert House watching The Courier rip all the copper wiring out the walls of the Lucky 38

[cyberpunkcitizen]

TASK 6: Create a Wanted Poster of a SKZ Member For Breaking a Magical Rule

Bangchan has been seen around the school on wanted posters explaining that hs is wanted for using magic to win a game of UNO. Which is not allowed as Rule 143 states it is not allowed to use magic to win any muggle games as its seen as cheating. The poster states a finders reward of 100 magic coins to be granted to the person whoever brings him in. It is rumoured that he was playing a game of UNO with Felix and beat him using magic. However it is uncertain exactly what happened.

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

Im Sol: I'm gonna avoid Sun-jae

Im Sol five seconds after being transported to the past:

[jenn-the-butterfly]

AHA, I DID TWO OF THEM BECAUSE I'M AN OVERACHIEVER

Hard to believe it's been a year already since I started this project. Starting as a DCA-AU inspired off of All My Favorite Things because I stumbled across 8um8le's Stellar City blog, turning it into an AO3 fic under that idea and then watching it evolve into something I didn't even expect it to become once I loosened the shackles a bit. Azil has basically consumed my life (not sorry) in a way I haven't felt in ages.

And there's so much more to share! I'm hoping as I work on cleaning up the boys' designs and figuring out my own stylistic choices for how robots look, etc, I can shake them free from their DCA origins more, though I know at it's core it will still be there. Like that shoe in Wall-E that the tree is growing out of in the credits.

I can only hope that this project will continue to grow and solidify into its own thing as time wears on, and I want to meet each step with enthusiasm and brainrot. I want to be abnormal about this, I want to give off radiation damage with how much I give off "weird little freak" energy about this project.

That being said, I will keep pulling away from DCA tags and while I love the content and the fandom is cool, I don't want to keep mixing signals so please, do not tag DCA in my posts! (Thanks!)

Goals for 2025 will be continuing to work on the rewrite script and outlines for Free Runner, showcasing the different market grades by making adopts/customs (like Vistor), showing off some of the other characters I haven't gotten to yet (I haven't even mentioned Toast since like, last February), and pushing out more world building! Hopefully I'll have a map this year! (AHHH)

Special love and shoutouts to the new year!

@quilandscroll for being the coolest bitch, my best friend and only reason my sanity is still in tact (the real MVP) who still tries to boost me up with one arm even when the other is busy fighting her own demons. I love you to pieces

@scarredkitty who's been following my content through the year and is also a lover of fine machinery ;) the likes and comments really kept me going when I needed it most

@imagine-creative @dragongirl658 and @8um8le fellow DCA-turned-original-works who serve as inspiration and reminders that we are more than how we started and break away from being "just an AU" to something far more. I genuinely appreciate you

--Jenn & the boys

[shorterstrides-fasterpace]

Good morning!!!!!!

Up at first alarm ✔️ drank my water ✔️ ran ✔️

Coffee made ☕☕ Stretches done ✔️ protein shake drunk ✔️

Now for a shower and to kick ass at work!!

[jukebox-arts]

I got plagued by a need for Tydal (Moon) wearing a night robe and couldn't sleep until I finished it.

Gonna try again later though, this ended up more "elegant" than "sexy" which had been my original intent so...

Gotta try again X3

[richo1915]

Motherf*#king Crane Driver!

Ran my bloody wallet over.

That’s what you get for paying the kids school fees and rego (for a car in bits) at work rather than concentrating on the task at hand.

[bourgeoning]

SYLVAIN DLT AS : A DEMIGOD .

son of enyo ( ἐνυώ ) , greek goddess of war .

a  comrade  of  the  warmonger  ares  ,  and  distinct  from  strategic  athena  ,  enyo  herself  was  said  to  be  "  supreme  at  war  .  "  she  facilitated  the  destruction  of  cities  ,  and  because  she  delighted  in  combat  ,  participated  in  many  wars  ,  such  as  the  war  of  the  seven  of  thebes  ,  and  the  fall  of  troy  .  on  occasion  ,  she  took  a  neutral  stance  in  the  face  of  conflict  ,  if  only  to  see  the  fighting  continue  ,  as  seen  in  a  battle  between  zeus  and  typhon  .  enyo  also  appeared  on  the  shield  of  achilles  .  in  some  texts  ,  she  was  conflated  with  eris  ,  the  goddess  of  discord  and  strife  ,  who  instigated  the  judgment  of  paris  ,  leading  to  the  trojan  war  .  notably  ,  eris  sided  with  typhon  in  the  previously  mentioned  conflict  with  zeus  . there's  something  to  be  said  about  how  sylvain  and  his  godly  parent  both  exist  in  the  shadow  of  another  (  sylvain  in  achillas'  ,  enyo  in  ares'  )  ,  but  are  worthy  of  note  in  their  own  right  .  he's  also  ,  fittingly  ,  a  soldier  ,  probably  the  most  appropriate  occupation  for  a  son  of  the  goddess  of  war  .  and  , in  the  case  of  the  combined  enyo  -  eris  ,  sylvain  thrives  in  chaos  ,  much  like  eris  did  .  he  doesn't  necessarily  set  out  to  cause  strife  ,  but  it's existence  does  make  finding opportunities  in  his  favor  that much easier  .

[dancinjanssen]

Restaurants do this to themselves with their shitty scheduling tbh. It’s as simple as either having a posted “kitchen closes at” time that’s earlier than the time people actually need to be out, or scheduling employees’ shifts with time past closing to do all the cleaning. In the hospital kitchen I worked in, we were all scheduled 30 to 90 minutes past closing time depending on our duties. My easy pizza station that I could already have mostly closed by doing stuff throughout the night? 30 minutes. I got an hour for the coffee shop because that involved more. And the dishwashers as mentioned above got 90 minutes, so guess what? They just got scheduled later so they’d have 90 minutes of uninterrupted washing time after close.

Our chef gave me lasting PTSD but she knew how to write a schedule. 🤣

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[essentiallychaotic]

I have days where I’m like, happy with my job and its totally chill, and I get along with my coworkers.

And then I have days where I’m like if I am unable to quit this year I am going to lose my mind <3 this is both a threat and a promise

[veriaph]

nemo is as of currently: hax rowl mongey liker. I catch fruit streams. occasionally reign. some beefsalad

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.

[3liza]

I have a crackpot theory about the comorbidity of endogenous opioid resistance with ADHD and autism and the widespread misunderstanding in both the medical field and wider culture about how much "fun" Adderall is for people it's prescribed to. I have never had fun in my life and I'm not about to start just because someone gave me legal amphetamines

[jenn-the-butterfly]

Raffle prizes and fanart!!!?

I'm very late posting this but please enjoy!

Brought to you by @imagine-creative wondering how Echo and Event respond to being asked for a hug <3

@scarredkitty held a raffle and I won some art of the Big Bitch In Charge, Narii QwQ

and some lovely ship fanart of Xeros and @/saka-aka-chan's Saros being cute af and honestly I kinda love them

(I have more art of them coming~ As a note: this is a fan ship! Which Saka is fully aware of! Xeros does not canonically have a partner but I do personally really love them <3)

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ ceo!satoru doesn't have time for romance.

as much as he'd like it — and sometimes, late at night in his ridiculously oversized apartment, he really would like it — it's just not in the cards. doesn't help that every so-called date he's endured felt more like an interview for his bank account than a genuine connection.

but then there's you. freshly employed, radiating a kind of unassuming prettiness that hits him like a punch to the gut. smitten doesn't even cover it.

he's in love. truly, madly, deeply. he swears it's not just some fleeting infatuation, not just limerence. this feels… different. real.

you're gorgeous, an actual angel who seems utterly oblivious to the effect you have. he catches himself just staring sometimes, a dumbfounded look on his face.

satoru's not entirely sure who hired you. some faceless name in hr, he supposes. whoever it is that works below him and handles the grunt work. because, and he hates to admit it even to himself, you're… well, you're not exactly competent. not that he cares, not really.

important documents vanish into thin air. work emails somehow end up in the inbox of the company's biggest rival. entire tasks seem to just… slip your mind. it's almost comical, if it wasn't so baffling.

and yet, he's obsessed. utterly, completely gone. maybe it's those big, naïve doe eyes that seem to hold a universe of innocent confusion. or the way you unconsciously nibble on your lower lip when you're trying to concentrate, your delicate brows furrowed in the cutest way.

you're always perky, though, a little ray of sunshine bouncing through the office, ready to tackle… well, whatever you manage to remember needs tackling.

could also be that skirt you insist on wearing. far too short for a professional environment, riding high on your thighs. he’s not even slightly ashamed to admit he’s “accidentally” dropped his phone more than once, the screen cracking a small price to pay for a glimpse of the lacy sliver peeking out from underneath. he could buy a new phone. or seven.

satoru tells himself he’s not a pervert, but the truth is, every morning when you greet him with that bright smile, his gaze lingers a little too long on the gentle swell of your breasts beneath your blouse.

he’s practically drooling, a shameful heat pooling low in his belly. you just don’t seem to notice, or maybe you’re just too sweet to say anything.

so, he’s doing you a favor, really, when he promotes you to his personal assistant. it’s a step up, right? except there’s nothing you actually have to do. he has a perfectly capable secretary for all the actual work.

your main job? looking pretty. being near him.

double the pay, all the fancy benefits, and absolutely none of the tedious labor.

well, unless you count being bent over his expansive mahogany desk, getting thoroughly, mind-numbingly fucked, as labor. not collapsing from exhaustion; that’s a different kind of hard work entirely. especially when your boss seems to possess the stamina of a goddamn marathon runner fueled by pure lust.

papers are scattered like fallen leaves, cascading onto the plush carpet. his grip on your hips is possessive, digging in, promising bruises that will bloom beautifully on your skin. a trail of your drool glistens on an unsigned contract, a testament to the utter control he has over you in this moment.

his thick cock fills you completely, each powerful thrust sending jolts of pure sensation through your body, making your head spin. “hah, feel that, precious? you’re squeezing me s'tight,” he groans, one hand leaving your waist to slide down and firmly cup your ass cheek, his thumb pressing insistently into your slick heat.

“mmm— sir,” you hiccup, your eyes rolling back in your head. holy shit, you can barely breathe, his thick tip bumping against your cervix with a deliberate twitch that makes your core clench involuntarily.

he’s told you, countless times now with this newfound intimacy, not to call him sir, but in this raw, primal moment, he finds it… surprisingly arousing.

his heavy, aching balls slap against your backside with each deep rut of his hips, your cunt a wet, messy testament to his relentless assault.

tears stream down your flushed cheeks, and breathless moans tumble from your lips, pleas and whimpers all blurring together. “i— i think i’m gonna come!”

“yeah? is that — fuck — right?” his voice is thick with want.

you whimper, your fingers digging into the polished edge of the desk, anything to anchor you in the storm of sensation. a broken agreement spills from your lips, your jaw slack with the intensity.

the only coherent thought left in your ravaged mind is his name, and it spills from your lips in desperate, repeated chants. it’s music to his ears, inflating his already considerably large ego.

“i’m close too, precious,” satoru grunts, his breath hot against your neck. it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s unloading another thick, syrupy stream of his seed deep inside the slick walls of your cunt, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

he pulls back slightly, panting, his forehead resting against the back of your head. “remind me to give you another bonus,” he murmurs, his voice still rough. “actually, just jot that down. notepad’s on the left, i think.”

dazed and confident, you look to the right.

[jukebox-arts]

Okay so I've been smitten with Yang Liping's peacock ballet for days and I literally couldn't sleep until I finished this and HOLY SHIT--

"You can use better words than that."

.... e... elegant...?

".... Alright, sure, we'll go with that."

You have no business being somehow so handsome it's criminal AND so beautiful it hurts.

"That sounds like a personal problem."

....... it very much is

"You aren't functioning right now, are you."

WELL, SOMEONE KEPT ME AWAKE SO--

"Bed."

I--

"Bed."

.... yessir...