"It doesn't help your credibility to exaggerate, most employers wouldn't literally work you to death" like, I used to work in distribution. If booking a truck driver for back to back shifts until they fall asleep at the wheel, crash, and die counts as being worked to death, I have personally met employers who've worked employees to death and gotten away with a slap on the wrist. It may not be universal, but it's a hell of a lot more common than a lot of us would prefer to think.
The FAA had to explicitly make rules about how long pilots have to have off between shifts, and how far away from their home you can pin their home airport, because it doesn't mean shit that someone has 10 hours between shifts if they have a 2 hour commute each way. They had to make these rules because multiple passenger airplanes crashed because the pilots were exhausted from tight scheduling. Employers won't just work you to death, they'll take a hundred random customers with you.
Why is it that every time I google something like "Are olives poisonous to cats" the top results are always like "Fun fact: Cats are carnivores! This means that they eat meat. There is no reason to include olives in a cat's diet. You should feed your cat cat food, which is dry or wet food especially designed for cats. You can purchase this at a store." like is there a single person alive on the planet who's googled "Are blueberry muffins safe for cats" because they're planning on switching their cat to a muffin-only diet??? No, I'm asking because the little bastard somehow popped open the packet while I was putting away the groceries and dragged one under the couch before I could react and now I need to know if I should call the after-hours vet. "Cats should not eat spaghetti." NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!!!! "Try to keep human food away from cats." i live in a studio apartment with a completely silent and permanently hungry apex predator who has the intelligence of a toddler and the desperate Machiavellian cunning of a creature who spent his formative months on the streets. He can already open doors and he is this 👌 close to learning how to open the microwave. He is stronger than me and covered in knives. So im gonna do my best but for the moment i just need you to tell me whether this yoghurt is going to kill my son y/n
I've been using the pet poison hotline's poison list cause it has a search function. It also tells you whether something is mildly, moderately, or severely toxic which can be very handy! It doesn't contain like everything but it might be a good place to start, it also includes plants for fellow houseplant lovers <3
Explore Pet Poison Helpline®s vast knowledge on poisons by reviewing our pet poison list. Explore our top 10 poison and holiday poison lists
all i want for 2026 is that gigantic rancid AI bubble to finally burst in such a catastrophic way that the consequences will be so good and i'll never have to see another AI generated image ever again
Look as someone with a bachelors and a continued interest in Psychology, You will ultimately get a random but very concerned “are you okay??” Text after I fall down another rabbit hole that vaguely resembles or describes you or something you’re going through. And it will admittedly be the most clinical sounding “r u okay?” Text you will ever get.
My brain cells have been activated pause. @nymph-ette111
The concept of Brian being nonchalant and mysterious while you’re standing next to him in the same fit. Mask on and everything.
Tim gets into the truck and is all “What’s- what’s all… this?” Vaguely gesturing to the backseat- because sitting behind him, is a Hoodie clone. Less broad, clearly shorter, and fidgeting with a bag of gummies.
Wearing gloves and a tool-belt way too big for them, the person shifts quietly. Shuffling a candy under the mask to chew on. They wave at him, making him squint.
Brian sticks with the bit the entire night. Saying something like “Backup.” Not expanding on that at all, before kicking the truck into drive. The three of you go to all the spots they regularly would.
The pub, the empty parking lot they always smoke at. The entire time you’re just there, hanging out like you were also a very scary killer. You even do the things you think Hoodie would.
Like leaning on the hood of the car (to aura farm) or clearing your throat loudly, then adjusting your belt (because you’re a southern outlaw). It takes all of Brian’s will power to not burst out laughing.
He could basically see the stupid smile you had under the mask, the shine in your eyes when you’d do something “Hoodie adjacent.” Like you were so proud of yourself- it made his heart hurt. He thinks you’re too cute for your own good, Tim thinks Brian’s weird.
What kinda’ hobbies does this guy have?
Masky when Hoodie keeps bringing you as “backup” on boring stakeouts ^
Tim every time he opens his phone to texts from Toby and Brian
(also so excited for Tempest chpt 4! time to reread it again 🙂↕️)
The Pigeon Problem ->
Ft. Brim x Toby x GN! Reader !! :p
Throwing another Drabble you didn’t ask for at you #idgaf
— ^ ^ —
Overworked, underpaid.
Toby is just as energetic as you, so you bounce off the walls as a pair. Brian, the other supposedly responsible one, enables you. The man can’t seem to say no to you ever, and it sickens Tim to his stomach. Someone’s gotta put their foot down eventually, and it makes him look evil to shut down your fun.
Except he’s a complete hypocrite because he can’t say no to you either. Not really.
Timothy Wright had said the word to you one time, and one time alone. And it completely backfired.
It was nearly one in the morning, and you had come back from a night out with friends. Bar hopping, something like that. You returned drunk, giggly while he wasn’t home- and convinced Toby to match your stumble. By the time his boots hit the shoe rack, you two were warm-cheeked and tripping over each other.
Not only were you wasted, both you and Tobias were emotional drunks. You’d been cuddled up on the couch when he walked in, watching a nature documentary about pigeon neglect. He thinks. Either way, the damage had been done, with you reaching out to him saying you had to go feed the birds.
First off, he was dead tired and did not feel like chaperoning two inebriated, over-affection dumbass’s. Second, he couldn’t let you leave alone. Sure, Toby was competent, and could definitely protect you- but he was not sound of mind currently. Lord knows you’d walk hand in hand straight into traffic. Tim was not taking the risk- so he bunkered down on his answer. “No.”
It was the worst decision of his entire life.
You were silent initially, the echo of his reply lingering in the air- then you pouted. Then your eyes grew shiny. And then a small, barely audible hitch in your breath reached his ears. It began slowly, yet before he knew it, he’d done the unthinkable. He’d made you cry.
Hot tears bubbled at your lashes, dropping down your cheeks as you sniffled. He didn’t know what to do. They were just pigeons. You could feed them in the morning. Why was this so important to you? What bond did you even have with the species?
He stuttered for a moment, looking to Toby for help- only to find the boy’s bottom lip wobbling.
This could not be happening.
You’d somehow blue-toothed your sensitivity to the younger brunette, and now he was snivelling along with you. Tim had told Toby no countless of times, barking orders at him, scolding him with a coldness you’d flinch at. But this wasn’t work.
He was at home, and you two weren’t even dressed properly. Wearing his flannel and Brian’s sweatshirt, you were hiccuping on the sofa, staring up at him like he’d betrayed you greatly. Pupils wide and glossy while you sobbed. The level of puppy eyes he was hit with could kill a man.
You looked so sad, the flannel slipping off your shoulder, Hoodie’s old college sweater bunching at Toby’s wrists. It was domestic, nearly too vulnerable. It felt wrong to speak to you anything but gently. Yet here he was.
And when the sniper stepped foot through the door, all hell broke loose.
Both of you jumped up, darting to hallway. “Brian-“ His name spilled from your mouths in unison, and he almost fell over from the force of your joint tackle. Standing in the doorway of the living room, he had Toby clutching one arm, with you hanging off the other side. He shuffled in place, pulling you and the boy against his chest, confused.
Brian glanced down, blinking at the way you two buried yourselves into his coat. “What…?” He squinted at Tim, making him groan as a dragged a palm down his face.
“They wanted to feed pigeons and I said no.”
“Why in the hell would you do that?”
“It’s damn near two am, Bri. They’re drunk, we can’t-“
“They’ve been on a pigeon kick the entire week. They’re gonna’ cry all fuckin’ night, Tim.”
Dropping his voice to a whisper, he spoke through gritted teeth. Tim had no idea what’d he done, and how much work it’d take to calm you down. When he said you were emotional drunks, he meant that.
The salt on your skin didn’t dry until six am, and that was after everything they tried.
Holding you close, with you in Brian’s lap and Toby in Tim’s? Nothing. It quieted you, yet that somehow made it more sad. You were so pitiful, sniffing faintly, no reaction other than your slow wet blinks.
Kissing, the two of you sandwiched between them? Nada. The tremble of Toby’s lips against his was making the guilt eat him alive, and Brian’s disapproving glare over your shoulder didn’t help much. Apparently, you didn’t even close your eyes. That’s how bad it was.
Though, eventually, all fires had to burn out. You fell asleep curled up around each other, and Hoodie sighed. “This is why I tell you to check yer’ phone. They’ve been talking about it all week.” His statement was met with a disbelieving grunt.
“I did check my phone. God forbid, I ain’t think some fuckin’ birds would mean this much.”
“Well, they’re doin’ a thing right now. Pigeons are in- hell if I know—“
And the worst part was, you didn’t even remember it the next morning.
So I read both Muffinlance's "Salvage" and the time travel version, where Salvage!Hakoda time-travels to before Kya dies and adopts baby Zuko, and it got me thinking of a reverse version. Imagine a Zuko and Azula from an au where they were adopted by Hakoda, somehow getting sent back in time into the bodies of their child selves from either just before or just after Lu Ten died but before Azulon orders Ozai to kill Zuko and they both decide screw it they aren't waiting around for whatever happens next and they certainly aren't gonna suffer through several more years of ozai's sorry excuse for parenting when they have a perfectly good dad and siblings waiting for them and so they quickly pack their bags and book it to the south pole just in time to save Kya from the southern raiders at which point they proceed to pull a reverse adoption on a very confused hakoda and kya. They also, of course, get a jump start on that whole ending the 100-year war thing by freeing aang from the iceberg and gathering up the gaang several years ahead of schedule
"That," Azula says, and they both pretend she is doing so with the dignity her carriage coveys, not the adorableness that is her seven-year-old voice, "is exactly the sort of short-sighted plan I would expect from a doddering geriatric like you."
Zuko allows this insult to pass with decades of experience. As his body is currently nine, he does this with a certain inherent smugness.
"...Regardless," his little Actual Baby of a sister continues, from her chubby baby face, "you go south and secure our new familial alliance.
"I," she says, lightning sparking from her little fingertips, "will stay here, and discontinue our previous paternal contract."
"...You're just trying to secure the throne for yourself."
"YES I'm trying to secure the throne, you already had a turn, do NOT make me involve mother in this."
As she stamps her tiny foot, Zuko reflects that, perhaps, time traveling into ones' significantly younger bodies may be having some... developmental consequences.
He also reflects that they have a mother. Then he throws back his head, and yells.
"MOM! AZULA IS TRYING TO TAKE MY THRONE! I HAD IT FIRST!"
Everyone has history. Your partner knew yours as much as you did theirs... or so they thought. And that part, as small and locked away as you'd made it, tore through its dormant cage the moment things got a little too touchy.
Having excused yourself in the heat of the moment, you don't come back...
Likely... definately... most certainly somewhat ooc
TW: light mentions of sexual trauma, angst to fluff, crude language
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Iida:
Bakugo:
Shinsou:
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Sometimes we forget about things long enough to feel safe in our skin, to feel safe with someone else, yet more often that not something pushed away will push back. And its a matter of whos there to accept you under that light.
Hey, random human, you didnt deserve what happened to you. If it did. But youre sure as shit rocking it rn.
While taking a nap today I dreamt there was a hazard sign called "never found" which was used to indicate a location where people disappeared never to be seen again
