#how the fuck was my summer labor job less exhausting than school

[leafyduckwebs]

How do you cope with the fact that school is starting soon?? I have to go in a few days, and I've already had multiple nightmares and nearly vomited twice from thinking about it. It's my senior year (not as bad apparently) but I'm still so stressed and anxious and nauseous.

[kiwi-bitchez]

Ahoy-hoy. Yo so I got cheated on and TBH I can't smile. Idk if you're taking requests, but maybe write me a revenge-fuck sort of story? Sorry if you're not taking asks.

Hello! Don’t apologize, my asks are always open!! Thank you for sharing this with me, my heart really goes out to you. I’ve been cheated on before so I know how shitty you must feel. Sending you lots of love and also this fic. Not sure if I really captured the spirit of “revenge fucking” cuz this ended up being kinda #soft… but I hope you like it!

Manual Labor

Coffeeshop!AU / Carpenter!Tom

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: smut, the usual, oral, swearing, cheating, ex-boyfriends being shitty, lots of tea

Summary: After being cheated on you can’t seem to see the brighter side of things. That is until a familiar British carpenter comes into your work to fix some things. You bring him tea and things go a little better this time…

Dating in your twenties can be difficult. Everyone is at different stages in their lives, and everyone wants different things. Some people are looking for commitment, others just for hookups. So when you find someone who sticks, who wants the same things as you, it feels really nice.

Well, it feels really nice until they cheat on you after a whole year of dating. You would be foolish to say you thought he had been “the one,” but you really thought the two of you had clicked on a deep level. You were both mature, career-driven, hardworking, and caring people. Right? Well, it seemed so at the time.

But somehow you find yourself buried under seven layers of duvet blanket, bawling your eyes out on a Tuesday afternoon. It had all happened so fast, you hadn’t even had time to be emotional about it until it was all over. You kept running through your head what you had done wrong, what you could have done better.

Thursday rolls around and you realize its about time you show back up at work. Thankfully your boss is a sweetheart and told you to take all the time you needed. You tried to go into work the day after it all went down and ended up crying into someone’s coffee order.

You had cried all your tears and ate all your ice cream, and decided it was about time to rejoin society. Rolling out of bed you throw on your typical work outfit, black jeans and a t-shirt. You look in the mirror and try to splash some cold water on your face to kill the puffiness under your eyes.

Some mascara helped, and a little bit of lipgloss never hurt either. Once you were presentable enough, you make your way over to your job at the local coffee shop. Your coworkers all greet you with big smiles and empathetic hugs. It was obvious what you were going through, but you appreciated their support. You just wished everything would go back to normal.

“I never liked him anyways,” your closest work friend Margret admits, “I always thought you could do so much better.”

“Thanks Marg,” you don’t bother to look up from the pastry labels you were making, trying to signal that you really weren’t in the mood to talk about it.

Everyone kept telling you the same things, “He wasn’t good enough for you,” “You can do so much better,” “Fuck him.” Although you wanted to believe everyone, to be the badass independent woman you thought you were, you couldn’t help but well up with tears every time someone brought him up.

You manage to get through the week. Each day consisting of a little less crying and a little less binge eating, you slowly get back into your regular routine. Well, your regular routine excluding him of course.

It’s a slow afternoon, only a few customers dotted the coffee shop, most on their laptops doing work or having private conversations. You had zoned out, thinking about your schedule for the week, balancing school and work, as you stood behind the register waiting for another lonely customer to come in.

Your hand pressed into your cheek, leaning your weight onto your hand, you mindlessly stared at the wooden floor.

“Excuse me,” a strange accent asks from behind the counter. When had someone come in? Why hadn’t you noticed?

“Is Anna around? I’m the handyman here to fix the countertop,” his voice was like red velvet cake, and brought you right out of your trance.

“Anna’s right in the back, I’ll get her for you,” you answer his question instinctively before taking a moment to recognize the familiar face in front of you. You recall him from a few months ago, he was a carpenter who had come in to do some renovations over the summer.

His name was Tom. That you couldn’t forget. It had been a blistering hot summer day and he had come in to take a look at some part of the shop, something that had needed fixing. He went to the same school as you but worked part-time for a local carpenter.

He had assessed the damage and assured your boss Anna that he could start right away, only needing the rest of the day to fix up what needed mending. He had been wearing a white t-shirt that clung slightly to his body with sweat from the heat. He was good looking and certainly attracted the attention of most people in the vicinity, especially as he worked with the tools from his belt. You couldn’t help but stare for a second.

But only a second. Your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, often spent his time in between classes at the coffee shop visiting you. He always sat at the table closest to the counter so you could talk to him when business was slow. That’s why you stared for only a second.

After around two hours, you decided to go over to him. He had been working tirelessly, and the exhausting heat must have been getting to him.

“You drink coffee?” you ask, causing him to stop drilling at whatever he was fixing.

“I drink tea, darling,” he responds, causing you to notice his thick accent.

“How do you take it?” you blush a little, as his dark brown eyes looked directly into yours as he answered your question. You figured you were just being nice, he was working really hard and looked like he could use a break, that’s all.

You quickly made your way back behind the counter, whipping up a cup of tea and a blueberry muffin that he hadn’t asked for but you were sure he’d appreciate.

“Thanks love,” he said appreciatively as you set it down on the table closest to him.

“On the house,” you smile back at him, “for all your hard work.”

You hadn’t thought too much of the interaction, just a nice gesture you felt like doing. Your boyfriend had thought otherwise, however.

“What the fuck was that?” he hisses at you, barely above a whisper from the other side of the counter.

“What?” you ask back, fully not knowing what he was angry about.

“Were you trying to make me look stupid?” he says a little louder this time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his tone worried you.

“You’re just gonna flirt with that guy right in front of me, do you think I’m an idiot?” his voice was rising in volume and you were starting to get nervous that the people in the café could hear you.

“Babe, I was just being nice, he’s working really hard,” your voice is back at a whisper, trying to encourage him to do the same.

“No, you always do this, you think you can make me jealous by being a fucking slut and flirting with every guy you see. Stop it, it’s not cute and it doesn’t work y/n,” his tone was abrasive and you could feel the eyes of everyone staring at you. You could feel tears well up in your eyes as his words burned into you.

“It wasn’t like that,” your voice cracked, “I promise it wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” he responds loudly and sarcastically as he slams his laptop shut and shoves it in his bag.

“Guess I’ll see you later,” his voice was still sharp.

You watched him stomp out of the small shop, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Tom had mouthed to you as your eyes made their way to him in the doorway.

“It’s okay,” you had mouthed back before running to the break room and begging Margret to cover for you as you cried in the bathroom.

This memory hit you like a ton of bricks as you saw Tom again, standing at the counter. Your ex had always been jealous like that. At the time you thought of it as “protective,” and “loving,” rather than seeing it as “possessive” and “manipulative.”

“She should be right over here,” you say a little slowly, your eyes not leaving his face. You were taking it in, the curve of his jaw and the angle of his smile, the same warm look he had given you all those months ago.

“Hey Anna, the carpenter is here,” you pop your head into the back room.

She shuffles out and greets Tom, shaking his hand quickly before showing him over to the area that needed fixing.

You sit blankly at your register, tending to the few customers who came in, somehow without taking your eyes off of Tom. Seeing him just reminded you of that day, reminded you of how your ex had humiliated you and made you cry, how he had been so rude and controlling.

Seeing Tom made something switch in your brain. Everyone was right. Fuck him. Fuck that guy and fuck what he had done to you. You were done crying over someone who would cheat on you, over someone who clearly didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved. Everyone who was spewing clichés at you was right. You did deserve better.

Somehow through these thoughts, your hands had taken over while your mind ran in circles. Before you could even realize what you were doing, you were standing in front of Tom with a cup of tea and a blueberry muffin.

“Um,” you stutter out, not entirely sure what you were doing, “If I remember correctly, this is how you take your tea.”

His attention is pulled from the countertop, brown curs slightly pressed to his sweaty forehead, biceps filling out the sleeves of his shirt perfectly. Those perfect brown eyes boring into you once again.

“You remembered,” he said with a genuine smile, “that’s amazing, thanks a bunch love.”

You set the tea down next to him and stare for a second, not wanting the conversation to be over.

“You should hurry back though, if your boyfriend is here again,” he says quietly with a bit of concern.

“Oh,” you were taken aback, the implications of your action hitting you, “Oh, um, he, uh, we… aren’t together anymore. He doesn’t come here.”

“That’s a bit of relief then,” Tom says, putting down his tool belt and picking up the tea to blow on it, “that guy was a bit of a prick if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah,” you laugh a little, looking down at your feet, “bit of a prick.”

“This may be a bit out of line,” he takes a short sip before continuing, “but I didn’t like the way he spoke to you.”

“Not out of line,” you shake your head, “he was being an ass to you too, I’m sorry you were put in that awkward position last time you were here, I wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t apologize for a thing love, you’re much better off without him,” although he was essentially a stranger, his words seemed sincere.

“Ever since he cheated on me I feel like that’s all I hear,” you say with a laugh, your breath hitching in your throat when you realize what you had said. You weren’t really thinking, and this boy made you a little nervous, it had just slipped out.

“Oh, I- I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with a softer voice, “I-”

“Sorry,” you cut him off, “that was weird of me to say, you don’t even know me, sorry I’m like, dumping my personal problems onto you.”

You laughed nervously, wanting to clear the air. He looked at you with genuine sympathy. He had experienced first-hand how much of an ass your ex had been, and you seemed so sweet, remembering his café order and bringing it over to him when you truly didn’t have to.

“Thank you for the tea,” he said, taking another sip, “you smile a little brighter without him around.”

Your cheeks grew hot at his comment and all you could do was grin at him and scurry back to your position at the register. You bury your face in your hands, running through the conversation you just had over and over. You felt so stupid, yet at the same time strangely confident. The way he looked at you, smiled when you smiled, made your heart flutter. Were you imagining this? Was he just being nice?

You kept stealing glances over to where he was working. He would occasionally catch you and smile back, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his cheeks pink. You held your breath every time, wanting to go back over to talk to him. But you were at work, and so was he. So you continued to make lattes, and he continued to fix the countertop.

You start to clean up, throwing out old coffee filters and wiping down dirty tabletops. You start counting money in the register when you’re startled by a figure in front of the register.

“What do I owe you for the tea,” he asks, your face gets hot even before looking up at him.

“Come on, you know it’s on the house,” you respond with a smile.

“Now this isn’t fair,” he starts playfully, “you’ve given me two free drinks now. The gentlemen in me feels it's my responsibility to buy one for you now. It’s the least I can do.”

“You can make me a cup of tea anytime,” your response slips out before you can even filter yourself.

“In that case, let me know when you’re free. I’ve got jasmine, mint, earl grey, English breakfast…”

“I’m more of a chamomile girl,” you were completely unsure where this flirt was coming from, “you know, sleepytime tea.”

“In that case my flat is right around the corner,” he laughs.

“My shift ends in ten if you’re willing to wait around…”

“Yes, yeah, of course, I’ll be right outside,” he gestures out the door and hurries to gather his work tools.

Your eyes grow a little wide when you process what you had just said. Where was this found confidence coming from? Where the fuck could you find some more? And fast???

You finish cleaning up and hang your apron on the hook, giving a shout goodbye to your coworkers as you hurry out the door. Part of you hopes this had all been a joke and he would be nowhere to be found, the other part of you desperately looked for him in the parking lot.

A thud in your heart comprised of half relief and half panic hits as his hand waves to you from his car.

“Hey, you,” he calls over, “you still want that cup of tea?”

You jog over to his car and lean down to his open window, “I’m not sure London boy, I work at a café, I can make a pretty good cup of tea for myself,” there it was again, the flirty courage.

“Oh, but you’ve never had tea made by a real Englishmen, have you? You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“You make a compelling argument. Can I follow you to your place?” you nod over to where your car is parked.

“Sure thing, it's not too far from here.” He gives you a cheeky smile that makes the corners of your mouth turn up.

You can’t stop smiling as you hurry over to your car, starting it and not even bothering to pick out music before putting it into drive. Your mind starts whirling a thousand miles a minute as you follow his black car to his apartment. What the fuck were you doing? You barely even know this guy. But god, he’s so hot. And nice. And funny. Fuck.

Suddenly you’re parked next to him, turning the key and stepping out of your car in front of his building.

“Made it alright?” god, that accent. This boy was going to be the death of you.

“I’m Tom by the way,” he flashes you another one of those perfect smiles as you walk side by side to his building entrance.

“I know,” you realized how weird that sounded, “um, I know because you’re the carpenter we always hire,” you try to laugh it off, “I’m y/n.”

“Lovely to formally meet you y/n,” he opens the door for you, “I really appreciate all the free snacks you’ve given me. I always love doing business at your café. For more reasons than one.”

He presses the elevator button and stands close to your side as the two of you wait for the numbers to count down. You step into the small elevator, looking over at Tom as he presses the button of his floor.

“I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this,” he turns to you, “but that guy was a real dumbass for letting a girl like you go.”

“Thanks,” you can’t help but stare at the floor, “I’m not tired of hearing it as long as it’s coming from you.”

He laughs a little at your comment. He has a certain way of making you feel comfortable, of reassuring you with a laugh or a smile when you think you’ve said something stupid.

The elevator dings at his floor and he saunters out over to his apartment door. Your heart rate begins to pick up as he opens the door, not knowing what to expect. You walk in and take off your shoes and put your bag down on a coatrack.

He walks into his small kitchen and immediately puts on a pot of water. Part of you is relieved. He actually wants to make you tea.

“I moved to the states a little over a year ago,” he starts to rummage though his cabinet, pulling out boxes of tea, “everything is pretty nice here, except there isn’t really anywhere to get a decent cup.”

“Hey!” you protest, “I make alright tea.”

“Your tea is alright…” he jokes, “but its nothing compared to home.”

“That’s not fair,” you sit down on a stool across the kitchen from him, “it’s like apples and oranges.”

“Why can’t fruit be compared?”

You fall into an easy back and forth with him, finding the same things funny, laughing at each other’s comments and jokes. You can’t help but stare at his arms as he pours the hot liquid, at the way his tongue pokes out between his teeth in concentration.

“Here you go love,” he hands you a cup, “one genuine cup of tea made by a real Brit.”

You hold the cup in your hands but pay no attention to your own tea as he takes his first sip. You hadn’t flirted with anyone in so long. You didn’t have a reason to. This all felt strange and foreign to you, like you were thirteen again.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, still watching the curve of his jaw as he sipped his cup.

“What do you mean ‘thank you,’ you haven’t even tried it yet,” he gestures to your full cup.

“Not for the tea,” you bring your eyes to meet his, “but thank you for that too. I mean thank you for being so nice to me. For listening to me even though I’m so all over the place. I just… I just haven’t had anyone treat me like this in a really long time and I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Hey,” he brings a hand up to your knee, making you shiver a little, “you can thank me for the tea, but you don’t have to thank me for the common curtsey of being a decent person. You deserve to be listened to and taken care of, that you don’t ever have to thank me for.”

You feel your heart jump into your throat. You had never thought of that, of holding yourself to that standard. Your ex had been an ass to you time and time again, and you always came up with a reason as to why it was your fault. Even when he cheated, your mind went to what you had done wrong or how you could have been better. Fuck that. There was a boy right in front of you who was showing you what your worth was. Being treated like a true human being shouldn’t be rewarded, it should be expected.

“I-” your voice was caught in your throat, “you’re really nice. And cool. And you make really good tea.” You laugh, and he joins you.

“I would very much like to kiss you,” he brings his hand from your knee up to where your hand is placed on your cup, “I also think you are really nice, and cool, and although it is hard for me to admit, you make some good tea too.”

You lean over to him, tentatively waiting for him to meet you halfway. His hand moves up your arm to the side of your face, the skin of his palm was rough and warm against you. Your eyes slowly shut as he pulls your face to his, soft lips meeting yours.

Kissing him for the first time felt like the brisk ocean water hitting you with a wave. Sucking you under and pulling you back up, ice cold yet exhilarating. You pull away from the kiss, letting the wave roll back out to sea, the next wave close on the horizon.

You had never felt such a breath of fresh air, his lips meeting yours again and pulling you back in.

“Is this okay,” he whispers into you, hands cupping either cheek, tea long forgotten.

“Yeah,” you respond, wanting nothing more than to kiss him again, “more than okay.”

You can feel his body shift as he stands up from the stool, his chest coming closer to yours, his face leaning more into the kiss. Your hands make way up his arms, the perfect biceps that you had admired from afar in the coffee shop more than once before.

You press deeper into the kiss, addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours. You were getting pulled further and further in, and you couldn’t bother to look back. You let his tongue slip into your mouth as your hand dances up to his neck, playing with the curls that framed his face.

“Can we go to your bedroom?” you find yourself asking with eyes still closed, lips barely released from his.

“Mhmmm,” he mumbles into your lips, reconnecting them once again, seemingly as addicted as you, “only if that’s what you want, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you respond a little too quickly, “I’m so fucking sure.”

His strong hands grip underneath your legs that dangle off the stool where you sat, slowly lifting you up to meet his height, legs wrapping firmly around his torso. Your lips never detach as he carries you down the hall, your tongue rolling against his in perfect harmony.

He places you delicately on his bed, cool sheets beneath your skin causing goosebumps to rise. You can’t get enough of the feeling of his hair tangled between your fingers. You run them up and down his scalp, gathering his locks in your hands as you go. He kisses you like he means it.

“I want you to know,” he whispers in your ear, a deep gravely tone, different and sexier than his speaking voice, “that I want to make you feel good, so much better than that guy ever made you feel.”

He juts his hips into yours, causing a moan to catch in the back of your throat.

“Please,” is all you can manage to say before lurching forward, meeting his open mouth with yours again.

His hands are rough and strong, feeling amazingly foreign as they make their way up your legs, dancing underneath the hem of your top. He presses his palms down into you, causing your back to arch into him as you kiss.

You take initiative to remove your top, to show him that you really want him. You toss it over your head, not bothering to notice where it lands. His lips dip down to your jawline, training kisses from the corner of your mouth down to the soft spot on your neck. His thumbs continue to rub soothing circles into the flesh of your torso, slowly making their way up.

You mimic his actions and detangle your hands from his hair to feel underneath his t-shirt. His skin was tight and warm and smooth under your hands. He was taking his time with you, moving slowly but with purpose.

You tug at his shirt, signaling that you wanted it off. He got your message and pulled it off by the back of the neck. You couldn’t help but stare with gawking eyes, you had truly never seen a body this nice so closely, let alone touched one.

He had a cocky smirk on his face, knowing well how hot he is. All you could do is bite your lip and laugh a little, completely unsure how you ended up in this amazing position.

“Manual labor does a body good,” he says with a chuckle before leaning back down to your chest, resuming his trail of wet kisses that were now dipping into the valley of your breasts.

“You’re telling me,” you comment back as your eyes flutter shut a little, feeling his thighs tense up underneath your legs.

He looks up at you for permission before pushing your bra up, kissing and nipping at your skin. He left red blotchy marks that caused a pool to form in your panties. Your hips continue to buck and roll into his, feeling his hardening cock press through his pants onto your leg.

He continues his journey south, taking pit stops to suck at the skin around your ribs, on your stomach, above your hips.

“Can I?” He asks before hooking his thumbs under the waistline of your jeans. You lift your butt to help him slide them off, head in a complete daze. His hands run up and down your legs as they had before, less barriers between you this time. He continues to kiss at the skin on your hips and down into your thighs as his hands slowly spread your legs open for him.

He spent time teasing and licking around your underwear, never quite moving in to where you wanted him most. Leaving a purple hickey on your thigh, he soothes it over with his tongue as he brings his hand up to your underwear, stroking up and down your slit through the fabric.

You cant help but twitch under his touch. He was moving agonizingly slow, and you could feel the dampness in your underwear soaking through to his fingers. Unexpectedly he licks a stripe up the cotton, mouthing at your lips through your underwear.

A breathy moan leaves your throat as your head rolls back, begging him to take them off. He slides a finger around the seams and runs it through your slick folds, loving the way you were already so wet for him.

He follows the row of red marks he had left down your leg again with his tongue as he slowly pulled your underwear down. Every time you looked down at him you felt yourself clench around nothing in anticipation.

Finally, you feel his warm tongue run from your inner thigh to your core, licking wide stripes up and down before dipping into you. His name leaves your mouth mixed with heavy breaths, your hands searching for his arms or his hair, or anything to grip onto as he licked slow circles around your clit.

“Holy shit,” you choke out as he slips a finger into you, curling it upwards perfectly.

You feel him smirk into you, knowing the effect he was having on you. You like his confidence, and the way he was taking his time, building your orgasm up slowly. A second finger joins the first curled up against your walls and your hips drag against his expert tongue.

Any worries you had were melted away, all your stress, your anxieties, your negative thoughts that seemed to haunt you more often than you would like, suddenly sunk away and all you could think was his name, over and over.

You feel your thighs push back as he presses his face deeper into you, licking and pushing his fingers in a perfect rhythm. He could feel your walls tighten around his fingers, knowing that your high was close.

“Fuck Tom, I’m-” you couldn’t even bear to finish your thought as your orgasm crashed over you, that perfect wave of pleasure pulling you out and pushing you back in. He knew just when to speed up and when to pull back, letting you ride out your orgasm on his face, lapping up your juices and kissing back up your thighs, finally meeting your face, two fingers remaining inside your pulsing opening.

“Holy shit,” you giggle out, “you’re really fucking good at that.”

“I told you I wanted to make you feel good,” he kisses into your neck, finally dragging his fingers out of you and running them softly up your skin, “and how can I not when you look so gorgeous like this.”

You manage to swing your shaky legs over him, moving on top to press your chest flat against his. Now it was your turn to leave open mouthed kisses all along his neck. That perfect jawline begging to be sucked on.

Your hand snakes down to his hard member, fiddling with the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to, if you’re tired,” he mumbles into you as you feel around in his pants.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me,” you whisper back into his ear, finding his cock fitting perfectly in your hand.

He kissed you with a new hunger and passion, hands gripping at the roots of your hair and pulling your face into his as you slowly jerk him off. Low guttural moans growling in the back of his mouth as your tongue swirled around his.

He kicks his pants off, and you push the band of his boxer briefs down as well, exposing his perfect cock. It was pink and dripping precum, begging to be sucked on. You run your thumb over his tip, loving the way his body tensed under your touch.

You find yourself down between his legs, licking a long stripe up the underside of him. You swirl your tongue around his tip while making eye contact with him, his head tossing back once you finally sink your mouth down onto his length.

He had teased you relentlessly, so you decide to tease back. You jerk the base of him off slowly as you run your tongue in all sorts of patterns clockwise and counterclockwise around his sensitive tip, only sinking back down when he bucked his hips up into your mouth.

“Fuck, y/n,” his voice was weak, “can I fuck you, can I please fuck you.”

His eyes finally focus back down to meet yours, the sight of your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock make it twitch.

You detach your lips with a pop and give him a nod, taking your swollen lip in between your teeth. Suddenly his hands are on your shoulders, pressing you down into the mattress as he kisses you hotly, sucking onto your bottom lip.

He rubs circles on your clit with one hand as the other fumbles over to his bedside drawer to find a condom. You lay back with your legs pushed up for him, back arched, fully ready and open for him. He runs his rubber tip up and down your soaking folds a few times, making you beg for him before slowly pushing into you.

You moan into his neck, biting down on his shoulder to silence yourself as he bottoms out inside you. His slow movements give you time to adjust to his size before you meet his lips again with yours, telling him to fuck you harder.

One hand takes place on your inner thigh, pressing your leg into the mattress to angle you perfectly for him to fuck into you, the other remaining on your clit. He picks up his pace and starts thrusting deep and hard into you, properly fucking the shit out of you.

You could tell he liked it when you moaned his name and told him how good he was making your feel, always thrusting a little deeper when you would make noises. It wasn’t long before you felt the pit on your stomach grow hot again, threatening to spill over at any given moment.

“Please don’t stop,” you whine, “you’re gonna make me come again, fuck.”

Your eyes scrunch shut as he rubbed a little harder onto your clit, causing your walls to flutter around him, gripping his cock with every muscle you had. Your eyes roll back into your head, his mouth hanging wide open as he watches you come and writhe underneath him. He doesn’t let up on his pace, fucking you thoroughly through your second orgasm.

Your face was flushed and your jaw hung slack as you felt the waves of pleasure crash over you again and again, abdomen tensing up and letting go over and over. The look on his face could have easily made you come again, watching you intently as you shook with pleasure.

He moves his hand from your throbbing clit up to your face, cupping your cheek as he kissed you deeply, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. You felt your sweaty forehead press into his, eyes open and staring directly into his as he continued to pump inside of you.

“Tom,” you manage to say above a whisper, “fuck me harder, please, fuck, please.”

He leans back onto his knees, and with a swift motion, pulling out of you, he flips your leg over and places you on your stomach. Hands gripped tightly on your hips pulling them up slightly to meet his. He easily slips back into you, hitting a new spot inside you this time. You cry out into the mattress, moans silenced by his pillows. Your hands grasp tightly at the sheets, pushing back onto him as he takes you from behind.

One hand on your lower back and the other gripping at the flesh of your ass he fucked into you with incredible stamina and power. You couldn’t even imagine the fucked out expression on your face as he buried himself into you over and over.

You could feel his cock start to twitch and swell inside you, his thrusts becoming harder and more purposeful. With a final push, he presses hips flush to yours as he spills inside the condom

“Oh my god, y/n,” he groans out, rolling himself into you slowly as he continues to reach his peak. All you could do was press your ass back onto him and feel his warmth inside you.

After a few more profanities, he pulls out and discards the condom. He reaches down and helps you up, bringing your body to lay next to his, spooning you with an arm draped over your sweaty form.

You lean your head back onto his shoulder, looking back up at him through tired eyes.

“That,” you start to giggle, “was really fucking good.”

“Yeah,” he buries his face into your neck, taking in the smell of your hair, “I thought so too.”

He continued to hold you in his arms for a few minutes, allowing you both to relax into the post-sex bliss.

“I think… our tea is probably cold.”

You laugh at his comment and roll over to face him.

“Want me to make another pot? For real this time?” He asks, fingers still dancing up and down your skin.

“Sure,” you smile at him, “I’d like that.”

He gets up and throws his underwear back on, giving you a full view of his perfect body standing in front of you.

“You should pee and get cleaned up,” he suggests, “bathroom is just down the hall.”

You take a moment to stretch out and toss your shirt and underwear back on, making your way down the hall. You can hear him moving in the kitchen, and can’t help but replay the events of what just happened over and over in your head.

Slipping quietly out into the kitchen, you take your seat back on the stool, looking much more disheveled than you had when you sat on it earlier.

“You’re beautiful,” he says with unwavering confidence as he hands you another cup of tea. You blush at his comment and look down at the cup in your hands. You take a sip, letting the hot liquid coat your throat, dry and sore from moaning his name.

“Thank you,” you look up at him, “for the tea.”

“You’re welcome,” he laughs, “I very much like you, and would like to see you again. If you want.”

You smile and nod at him, happy that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him. He rifled through a drawer, pulling out a pad of paper and scribbling his number down. He folds the paper in half and hands it to you over the counter.

After finishing your tea you get dressed and gather your things. He walks you to your car and kisses you before you open the door, lips lingering on yours.

“You’ll call me?” he asks, you assure him that you will.

“I’ll see you sometime soon,” you wave as he walks back to his building. You cant wipe the smile off your face the whole drive home, head on cloud nine. You twirl around as soon as you enter your apartment, dancing around to get rid of all your pent-up happy energy. You put your stuff down and go to get a glass of water, your cabinet creaking as you open it.

You didn’t want to seem desperate, but you immediately take out your phone, entering his number into your contacts. He had scrawled his name under the number with a little heart, making your smile spread wider across your face.

Hey, my cabinet door is squeaky: looking to hire a carpenter, know anyone good?

You hit send, hoping he thinks your message is funny and not desperate. Your stomach does a cartwheel as the three typing dots pop up.

Tom: I may know a guy… he can be over your place tomorrow at 6?

[charliemcarthy]

“GET TO KNOW ME” TAG GAME

rules: answer the  questions and tag people you’d like to get to know better!

Tagged by: @djnicklesanddimes

What do you prefer  to be called name-wise?

Charlie or Char is fine~

When is your birthday?

February 26th, I’m a Pisces for sure.

Where do you live?

Upstate NY, 6 minutes from Ontario, in the woods.

Three things you are doing right now:

Listening to music. (Always listening to music. I fall out of bed with headphones on.)

Rping Transformers with my gf.

Trying to figure out future plans for my forestry job for Spring, watching trail making videos and brushing up on my plans so I don’t feel so overwhelmed like I got last year.

Four fandoms that have piqued your interest?

Mystery Skulls, FNAF, BatIM, getting back into Venom as well

How has the pandemic been treating you?

Eh. I work at home and my side jobs were either substituting at the schools around here or the little forestry gig I got going on as I carve trails in the woods out back. (28 acres that back up to about 100!) I expected my business to falter in the spring-summer, when COVID became more widespread. It did not, and I’m very grateful. My best business was in October, Ive also taken the time to work on me more, as I think everyone has. Since August 2019 I’ve lost 70 pounds, so im very proud of my progress in that sense. I’m not very social, and now I’m not social at all, and it’s starting to get to even me.

A song you can’t stop listening to right now:

Ahh, shit. Songs are like potato chips for me, I can’t pick just one! Have three ;)

Jason by the Midnight (SO FUCKING CATCHY.)

Spirits in a Material World by the Police

Handsome Devil the Smiths

How old are you?

27

School, University,  occupation other?

Freelance llustrator, works weekends/sunny days in forestry. It’s hard work but fun! my main job is so creative all the time my brain gets exhausted and hard labor lets me burn steam!

Do you prefer heat  or cold?

Lately I’ve been preferring heat due to weightloss. It’s nice not being sweaty all the time! But I also don’t mind being chilly, I can always bundle up in a hoodie.

Name one fact that others may not know about you.

My grandpa was a magician, and he taught me a lot of his tricks over the years. He liked sleight of hand with cards/items/prediction, I am def rusty with items/stage magic, but it’s hard to not let old instincts kick in when someone asks you to cut a deck >>; Another fun one is changing a dice score by making your second die hit the first. 

Are you shy?

Eh, nah. I’m more standoffish. People mistake my silence for shyness but over the years shyness has curdled into honest to god disinterest and difference. I am so tired/depressed and I just...don’t care anymore what people think of me. I’m also told I can come off as intimidating.

Pronouns?

She/her

Biggest pet peeve?

Hypocritical actions and narrowed mindsets.

What is your  favorite “dere” type?

Lord I don’t even remember them anymore. What’s the cute one? Deredere…? That one.  I guess. Idk.

Rate your life from  1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be.

Hums. I live with my parents still, basically in an apartment above them. but I pay for everything I can, I have my truck Kenny, and a job that does pay just not frequently enough. I would love to live on my own but that…definitely hasn’t been the year for THAT. But im also focusing on bettering myself, while trying not to see my life being over at 30, even though I feels like it. I guess…5/10? I’m very fortunate and need to remember that everyone's experiences are different. Hard to chart all that out.

What’s your main blog?

This one!

List your side blogs and what they’re used for.

Charlieslowartises: art! Also my most popular/most active blog :D

And-she-was-trying: weightloss blog

I have a few older ones that still around but inactive.

Is there something  people need to know about you before becoming friends?

Ive had a few people try strike up friendships for...less than good reasons. Some want free art from me, some want a free therapist, and one person used to compliment me+my art skills by saying my art wanted them to commit suicide due to my level. Please do not ever do this. Our friendship, if there is any to be found, will be obtained naturally. Through mutual appreciation and respect. I am not a very friendly or warm person to begin with. I will be less so if I sense your intentions are anything less than simple companionship.

That being said, for every person that I have had to turn away or ignore, I have twice as many friends on here that I am perfectly content with and love to talk to! Or, if you are a client and I accept your jobs without fail, rest assured you are a friend as well <3

I’ll tag whoever wants to do this, too tired to grab names lol.

[ladyofpurple]

here it is: the post Literally no one was waiting for. i'd put it under a read more thing but i'm on mobile and can't be assed to get out of bed so fuck it. we air our dirty laundry on main for the world to see like men.

so waaay back in february or something, i started seeing a psychologist again. i'd been seeing a psychologist for a while last year, but she had a private practice and got too expensive over time, so i had to stop. now, however, i finally got a referral to the public mental health offices in my county. which is nice, because norway has this neat thing that means when you go to the doctor, public health care facilities, refill prescriptions for medications you have to take daily, etc, the money you spend on those things gets recorded and after you've spent like $260, you get a free card that gets logged into your medical records and you don't have to pay for any of those things for the rest of the year.

anyway, i mentioned a couple of years back that i finally got put on antidepressants for the first time. they helped a lot, but then i just... stopped taking them. there wasn't a reason, really. i just forgot to take them one week when i was stuck in bed with a headcold, and then it was hard to get back in the habit again. i tried to get back on them off and on for a long time, but i'd inevitably just forget again. until, like, i wanna say november/early december last year? i started taking them again. there were still some slip-ups every now and then, but for the most part i took them almost every day. any gaps were no longer than two, maybe three days at the most, and those gaps were maybe once a month or so on average. averages aren't really useful in this context, but i hope you get the idea.

anyway, i finally convinced my doctor that, no, seriously, i really need to see a psychologist, i've always needed to see psychologists my whole life, seeing psychologists help me, i can't afford a private psychologist so i need a public one, and after a lot of begging and insisting on my end and a lot of hemming and hawing on her end she finally agreed to refer me. except she forgot to actually send the email she'd been typing in front of me, and then she quit, so there was a lot of confusion and time spent sorting things out until i got my first appointment.

i didn't like my psychologist at first. she was way older than i'm usually comfortable with (that's a personal me-problem that i know is irrational, and i'm not gonna go into the why but yes i'm working on it), and very blunt in an exasperated sort of way. she made me angry sometimes. she made me feel like i wasn't trying hard enough. but she helped me get shit done, so i guess she was doing something right.

in june she called in a psychiatrist to help adjust my medications, so i started taking zoloft in addition to the other medication (remeron, aka mirtazapine) that i was already taking. the mirtazapine was helping with my depression, but my anxiety was still pretty bad. the zoloft helped.

by my second appointment with my psychologist, she asked me whether i could have adhd, or if there was a history of it in my family. now, i have a lot of family with adhd (how closely related we are by blood is a bit of a mystery to me, my family tree is more like an overgrown hedge and who knows who fits where), and my grandma used to joke that the women in our family "all have a little bit of that adhd brain in us", but as far as i knew, nobody in my immediate, direct bloodline had such a diagnosis. i had my suspicions about myself, of course — i knew that not every focus or attention related problem necessarily has a specific attention disorder source, but i also knew that what i was experiencing couldn't be "normal," in the sense that if i walked into a room with 100 people in it, 86 of those people wouldn't necessarily look at a list of my symptoms and go "oh same hat." i've had add on my about me for a while now. maybe that was silly of me; i hadn't been diagnosed with it, and what i knew about the specifics of it were picked up piecemeal off the internet. you know, that super-reliable place where everyone is honest and factual all the time?

anyway, this began the process of investigating the merits of such a potential diagnosis. research was begun. questionnaires were taken. my mom was invited to one of my sessions, in which she revealed that, oh yeah, bee tee dubs, she's always suspected i have adhd. did she mention that she has also apparently always suspected ocd and that i'm autistic? no? whoops, well, she has now.

end of june i was referred to the neuropsychologist devision of the public health care place. over the course of a little over 6 weeks i went in for 2 interviews, in which i answered several questionnaires, talked about my life and childhood and traumas and what my mom had told me about her pregnancy and labor, every possible symptom i'd ever had, and was sent home with even *more* questionnaries. in addition to these, i went in for two rounds of "testing," in which i was tested on my memory, pattern recognition, reaction time, impulse control, and probably a dozen other things. i was nervous. it was exhausting. i wanted answers but was terrified of what those answers would be.

end of august, my mom came with me for the big reveal. and guess what? she was right. primary diagnosis: adhd, special emphasis on the attention deficit part. bonus diagnosis: asperger syndrome. surprise! i'm autistic, i guess.

it was hard to come to terms with. which sounds really silly, since i wouldn't have even been taking those tests if i didn't think the outcome was a possibility. and it's not like the diagnoses were surprising either. the adhd part was easier to accept, mostly because i already felt pretty confident i had it. but the asperger diagnosis was harder. having to unlearn all those ingrained ableist stereotypes and social stigmas is hard, especially when you had some you didn't even realize were there. it's very surreal to think a thought and be like "no, wait, i do that. that joke is about me." it's a very surreal and slightly upsetting experience to realize how biased you are as general rule, but especially about a facet of your own identity you weren't aware of. and the feeling of everything and nothing changing all at once. i've always been like this. a doctor telling me i have two cognitive/developmental disabilities isn't an event that magically gave me these disabilities. my brain has always worked like this. the only difference between me now and me a year ago is that i have an official, medical reason for Why now.

that's another thing: coming to terms with the idea of being "developmentally disabled." it's not like i'm suddenly a different person — i have to constantly remind myself that my brain has always been like this. but having a piece of paper confirming that i am legally entitled to special allowances in the workplace or at school because i have not one, but two "disabilities" is absolutely buckwild to me.

it makes me reevaluate my life and my past. how many situations did i make worse because i did not have the capacity or knowledge about how my own brain works to self-reflect? was i high-functioning in the past because life was simpler? was it because i subconsciously had a better handle on what works for me and what doesn't, and somewhere along the way i lost that? or was it simply because i didn't have the option to be anything other than high-functioning? it's confusing.

i also lost my spot at college. i can still reapply next year if i want, but at least now i know why i was failing out lmao

anyway, by my birthday in september we started the process of adjusting my medication again. upping my zoloft, getting me off remeron, and as of 6 weeks ago or so, beginning ritalin.

it was a rocky start, but i'm up to 60mg now. two pills in the morning, one in the afternoon. i have a goddamn alarm for 8am every day, even weekends. my sleeping is still wonky, but at least im genuinely tired by 8pm every night. the psychiatrist still wants me to try melatonin for a month (even though i told her multiple times it has never worked for me, and my problem has never been "i'm not sleepy enough"), so i'm on a whopping 2mg of melatonin for the next 30 days. norwegians are fucking WEIRD about melatonin, don't even get me started.

a slightly unexpected side-effect (on my end) of these medication changes: remeron made me gain weight. like, a lot of weight. and i was constantly hungry all the time, overeating to ridiculous amounts. why did nobody ever tell me that weight gain and metabolism changes are a side-effect of anti-depressants? i was more active this summer than i'd been in, like, three years and i just got fatter. which was incomvenient because i kept outgrowing my clothes. anyway, a side effect of ritalin is a loss of appetite and general weight loss. the combination of regularly taking ritalin and dropping remeron entirely? i eat a fraction of what i used to before, i've almost entirely stopped snacking, and i've lost 15 lbs in less than a month. i've already noticed my face is slightly slimmer now. maybe by christmas i'll be able to fit into my old tshirts again.

anyway, my psychologist quit, so i have a new one now. i've only seen her a few times, but she's veeeery different from my old one. i can't decide if i like her or not.

in the middle of all this, i've been going to the social security office as well to kind of get some of my own money, possibly help me get a job at some point in the future. my caseworker is super nice. if she's over 30 i'd be shocked. i relate to her really well, she's very helpful and understanding, and she's very patient with me and my bullshit. she's the kind of person where if we met at a party or something we could probably hang out.

anyway, she's helped me get out of the house sometimes. she introduced me to this youth club volunteer group thing called the fountain house, designed for young people who've dealt with or are currently dealing with mental illnesses and such. i hung out there yesterday and the day before and did some basic office work. it's nice. and then there's a work placement place that can either give you a job on site in one of their four departments, or help you get a job at an actual business elsewhere with more support and leniency than you might get if they just hired you off the street. i'd start in their second hand store. they clean and restore all donations they recieve, and they're super fucking cheap. i treated myself to my literal lifelong dream of owning a vintage typewriter (!!!!!) yesterday, because it's almost christmas and goddammit, i've been doing so much shit the past couple of months i deserve it. do i have space for it? not really. do i have a plan on what to use it for? no. was it heavy and miserable trekking through the snow and rain yesterday back and forth? was it worth the backache in the morning? fuck yeah it was.

a fucking lot of things are happening all at once. diagnoses, medications, lifestyle changes, work placement, social clubs, dealing with bureaucracies on all sides just so i can feel like a person again, not to mention juggling hobbies like writing and drawing and maintaining my irl friendships. i'm getting as many balls rolling as i can while i have the opportunity and mental/emotional capacity to, but i'm worried i'll burn out again. i'm stabilizing and slowly building my life back up, but jesus christ it would suck if this stupid house of cards collapsed again. but i'm tentatively optimistic. who knows, maybe it's not to late to course-correct my mistakes.

so long story short, that's why i've barely been active on tumblr for months. that's why i haven't been writing, drawing, or reading fic. it's coming along, but it's slow.

i guess the most important thing is that it's coming along at all.

[prorevenge]

A potential client tried to take advantage of me and I got her fired from her 'big-shot' marketing job.

Hey guys, first time posting here, bit of a long story. TL;DR at the bottom.

A little bit of backstory, I'm running a painting business over the summer as a Junior in college to pay for school. My prices are pretty fair as I hire college students and have a deal with Sherwin Williams as a contractor to get cheaper paint and materials.

Anyways, a potential client, we'll call her PC for pretentious cunt, scheduled an estimate with me about a month and a half ago for an interior bathroom job and a deck stain. I tell her the times I'm available, but she absolutely pushes for a time where I would have to rush over from a job site, do a hurried estimate, then run home to grab a bite of dinner before going to previously scheduled estimates. I'm a bit miffed but I said fuck it. Sales is hard, I should learn how to bend over backwards for clients. So I show up to do the estimate, and the whole time I'm getting my numbers together, she is talking me down, telling me how if she ran a business like I did, she would be fired from her big-shot marketing job immediately, and how I should be dressed better to respect the client. What I did to offend Her Majesty was I moved her plants to the side to be able the measure the deck better, and I came to the estimate in paint stained clothes since I had run over directly from the job site.

So I present the price of about $800 with a 10% day of estimate discount to book up the season and she says she needs a few days to consider it. Okay, fair enough right? I'll extend the discount a few days for her. So I come back a few days later expecting a yes or no answer and she sits me down and starts to haggle with me. At this point, I'm tired enough already from working in the sun all day and just want some food to stop the rumblies. After I give her another 5% discount just to close the job, she continues to haggle with me saying "The highest we can go is $600." When I finally tell her I can't go any lower on the job or I would actually lose money on it, she tells me that she got an estimate from another local company for $500 and that she wouldn't want me to match it because she wants to support the local community.

At this point, I'm exhausted and my brain is barely keeping me breathing but that price point doesn't sound right to me. I calculated my price based of a small profit, labor, and materials. Now I pay my painters $13 an hour and I hire college students. So if the other company is charging waaay less, they either pay their career painters even less (minimum wage where I am is $11) or the quality of paint is much lower. So I ask PC if they remember what paint the other company said they would use and she says she doesn't recall Fair enough, paint names are hard to remember if you don't see them that often. Then I ask if I could see their estimate contract to try to figure out why they were so much cheaper than I was. PC says that they didn't have an estimate sheet. Now this is a big no-no in any contracting business because you have to keep track of numbers, budgeted hours, etc. Now alarm bells are ringing in my head so I set a firm amount on the price of the previous estimate with the additional 5% discount which means that I make a measly $5 per hour I personally work on the job. PC finally agrees on the price saying "It's just $50 dollars, I can't see why you can't just give us more discount. At [my big-shot marketing job] I would give the customer a discount without hesitation" forgetting that A. The discount would be coming out of my broke college student pockets, not a big corporation and B. I already told her that I would only be getting about $5 per hour on the job even though she wants to "support the local community"

She asks if we take credit, but there is a 5% credit card fee that would come out of my already tiny slice of profit so I ask for check (which I told her we prefer during the original estimate). She tells me that she uses Chase which doesn't have a branch near us and that the nearest one is in New York (we are about half an hour from Boston). What?? Therefore, she cannot use check because she would have to order the checkbook from New York. I think, alright fine. I guess some people these days don't have checkbook. I reiterate that I will lose money on the job at that price point with the 5% fee tacked on and that I can wait until the checkbook arrives.

So I tell her that she can message or call me when the checkbook arrives and I can drive back to collect the deposit and have her sign the contract. On the way out, she tells me that the job needs to be finished before a certain date because she was having guests over. I explain to her that when I receive the deposit, I'll lock her in for a power wash of the deck which will need about a week to dry the we can stain it in one day. She mutters "... [something something] I can find the check book by tomorrow.." Come on now.. she just admitted to lying to me about having to order a check book from NY. So I say that's fine, let me know tomorrow afternoon so I can come by and finalize the contract.

When I get home, I decide to search up 'Chase branches near me' on Google because I found it really strange that there wasn't one closer that New York especially since we were pretty close to Boston. I kid you not, there was a Chase branch 14 minutes from her house. Now I'm pissed. I don't know what else she lied to me about so I call up my friend whose dad owns the company she talked about. He calls me later that day and says that he never did an estimate with her name or address.

I send her a message over Facebook Messenger (I do a lot of posts in local yard sale groups for exposure for my company so I set up estimates though Messenger) and called her out about the Chase branch, the check, and the "estimate" from the other painting company. She. Goes. Off. Here are a few memorable quotes from her rant - "You don't have the right to insult me like that, this is just your first year running a business and I've been working at [big-shot marketing job] for years now","it doesn't matter what I pay you because you're a young and money doesn't matter to you right now" (my facebook post literally says that I am running this business to pay for college) and my personal favorite "you people should be grateful that I even pay you $5 an hour for your work" (I'm Chinese).

At this point I'm ready to just block her and go to bed angry but I have an epiphany and just hear "[big-shot marketing job]" echo through my head. I take screenshots of the messages she sent me and slapped them along with a lengthy description of what happened in an email and sent copies to whatever email addresses I could find associated with the "big shot marketing company". I get an email back a couple days later from a different address than the ones I wrote to previously basically saying thank you for reaching out to us, this type of behavior is unacceptable and we will be conducting an internal investigation into PC. My Justice Boner is about half-mast but I think to myself, that'll be the last of it I guess.

Just today, I was messaging another old client and came across PC's conversation with me. I go to her profile and in the intro for her profile it now says "Works at Self-Employed." Instant full mast.

TL;DR A pompous, self righteous woman lies to me repeatedly to try to get a better deal on a paint job and when I call her out on her lies goes on a racist rant against me which I email to her company who fired her.

(source) (story by RicePaddyFarmer69)

[fuck-customers]

I work at a pet hotel - mostly just with dogs, but also the occasional cat or bunny. And in general, I really do love my job! There's not a ton of customer interaction, thank god, my direct supervisor is super sweet, and when one of my favorite dogs is staying with us I literally just spend my breaks sitting in their room and petting them to de-stress. It's also in general a pretty exhausting job, because working with animals is uniquely exhausting, and occasionally we get some AWFUL dog moms, but really, I do love it.

(For context, we have a lot more tasks to do than just walking and feeding the dogs - lots and lots of cleaning cleaning, essential things to keep the hotel running, the typical booking appointment and entering charges, so much fucking paper on an outdated and needlessly complicated system that makes every task take three times as long as it should.)

My one real issue though, is that we are so understaffed right now it's not even funny. We're attached to a vet clinic, and the two doctors who own the clinic don't seem to have any real clue how many people are required to keep the hotel running. They assumed September/October would be our off season, so even though a bunch of employees quit recently, they wouldn't let my supervisor hire anyone new. They didn't consider that 1) a bunch of the employees are college students, so almost no one is available to work monday through thursday right now and 2) our clinic is in an area with a TON of retirees, who all take vacations at this time of year because the weather's nice, the prices are cheaper, and they don't have a job or kids in school to worry about. So we've been consistently busy.

But weekdays, and also sometimes on the weekend, generally only have ONE person per shift now, leading to almost all of us working overtime because we can't get everything done during our shifts, and our bosses getting mad at all the overtime hours that WOULDNT EVEN BE AN ISSUE IF THEY LET MY SUPERVISOR HIRE MORE PEOPLE. (Just at LEAST to replace the people that quit.)

My shift last night was so long and exhausting that I literally slept in past 1pm today, and normally I physically can't sleep in past 10am even if I've been up late and don't set any alarms, and my back is so sore I can hardly walk. I clocked out for my legally required lunch yesterday but then worked through it because I hadn't finished feeding the dogs, because I'd started that an hour and a half late because we had so many dogs and new check ins that it was impossible to keep up with everything, and I still ended working two and a half hours past the end of my shift.

It's not fair to the employees, but it's also not fair to the dogs. We like to take them out at least 6 times a day, for walks or playtime, or for the older dogs who don't want to have much activity, at least to pee. But with one-person shifts, it's impossible to take all the dogs out that often when we have all our other tasks to do (and when we cant leave the dogs in the yard unsupervised).

I really want to stress that I genuinely do love my job, and I don't plan to quit over this rough patch. And that I truly don't blame my supervisor for this. She's working more shifts alone than any of us, practically lives at work lately, and if she heard I'd worked through my lunch I'm certain she'd be upset because she doesn't encourage or make us break any labor laws. 

I blame the vets who own the clinic, because while I'm certain they're very good at THEIR jobs, they also seem to have very little idea of what's necessary when it comes to our jobs. They're completely out of touch with our part of the clinic.

I guess my main consolation is that they'll definitely let us hire new people before the end of November, because that's when the time they actually realize is the busy season really starts and we never have less than 3 people a shift during summer and the holidays. But really they should just let my supervisor hire more people now because the idea of training a ton of new people DURING peak season doesn't sound fun either lol.

[nathanielbuildsatesseract]

I’ve never really given that much credence to the proposition that extended solitude leads to insanity. However, if we were to suppose it, then I have good reason to worry that I’m at risk of losing my mind.

Bear with me here. I don’t have a social life outside of school. This isn’t a problem when school is in session, because I’m around my classmates enough that working in the design lab or attending my few extra-curricular meetings ... doesn’t satisfy, exactly, but at least addresses the overall problem of feedback.

That isn’t true when school isn’t in session. Right now, it’s spring break. I’m alone in my apartment, and haven’t talked to a single human being since Tuesday (and the majority of my conversation then was not according to plan). I went to the library today and overheard a few snatches of dialogue, but didn’t talk to anyone. Tomorrow I might go to the design lab, though odds are there won’t be anyone else working there. It’s a different environment, at least.

The real issue, of course, is when I go back to my parents’ house in Kansas City. I’ve complained about that already, so let me restrict this post to only relevant information. I can’t get good feedback from them, because they made clear that they do not share my values and worldview some time ago. That’s one issue. But there’s another, related problem. Specifically, my inability to socialize in KC.

This can be partially attributed to the moving project, but that’s not exactly it. One of many reasons this move has taken so damn long is that Mom and Dad haven’t given up their own social lives. Just this last weekend, in fact, they informed me that they’d both let themselves get appointed to various church committees. They have that, regular service, managing the reunion group from our old church, and three book groups that they both attend. Mom attends a fourth book group and Dad is still involved with my Scout troop.

All that’s before we consider the fact they’re letting one of Dad’s childhood friends mooch time and labor (both physical and emotional) off them. But that’s another post.

Point is, they’ve got a shit ton going on, none of which involves me. To the extent that I’ve participated, I haven’t really enjoyed it, so I’m not complaining about that specifically. It’s more like....they have socialization completely set and sorted, so it doesn’t occur to them that I might want to spend my limited energy on socialization rather than going over to The House™ and continuing with the interminable project.

Perhaps that’s too fair, though. It probably occurs to them, but they don’t care. There’s some really fucked up logic when I try to discuss the matter with them—exhausting me before I go back to school is not how you recoup a sunk investment in your son’s education. They talk about being glad to have me around and missing me a lot, but like, incentives, man! This ain’t that hard! I have so many things to do and not enough time to do them in.

Anyway, suffice to say, there’s not really time, space, or freedom to socialize, and certainly not independently. Not even quasi-independently, through Mensa for instance. So when I am at home, even between academic terms, there’s no space to try pursuing independent friendships and associations. When I was home this last weekend it was just sitting around, reading for school, if I wasn’t actively doing something with them. That’s the way it always is. Where else would I go? I don’t have any friends I could just drop in on.

Oh well. I’m graduating in less that two months. At that point, I will either have a job, and be operating with sufficient independence to manage my own time—even if it’s a job in Kansas City and I’m living at home—, or I won’t, in which case I’ll be still dependent. But if there’s no school to worry about, not more pacing (okay, I might be suckered into doing grad school in that case, but I’m seriously out of summer classes to take so it’ll be fall at least even if I come back non-degree-seeking), then I can just throw myself into this damn project. Mom and Dad will never finish it, but maybe I can. At the very least, I can speed the thing along if they aren’t done yet, which they probably won’t be, and once that’s done I’ll be free to spend eight hours a day applying to jobs.

Hopefully something turns up before then. I’ll have to wait and see.

[violetsystems]

#personal

When people wonder how long I’ve spent being ignored down here like everybody else it’s nothing compared to how long I’ve held the same job.  Truly one of the things I’ve been most successful with in proving consistency has been my work ethic.  It helps that it returns financial compensation and benefits not that any of that impresses anyone these days.  I say that work is work a lot and leave it at that.  It is important to note I work in an extremely liberal environment.  I don’t mind being inclusive in fact I think it’s more rewarding in the long run.  You expect that respecting people’s right to be will create an atmosphere that encourages you to do the same.  This is the Utopian vision of liberal America that always has it’s heart in the right place but fumbles upon execution.  Mainly because accepting people in America seems to be largely an egocentric experience.  We the people.  Wait who are we all again really?  It’s true I don’t really feel much in line with extreme politics on either side these days.  I spent years soul searching after making dance music on how to do something more important.  I volunteered for a Korean American Festival for three years back in 2011 through 2013.  That imploded in such a Tarantino-esque way like everything else in my life.  People come together and power struggles emerge out of the vacuum.   Around 2013 I worked with a collective of mostly women from my school in a project called Collective Cleaners.  It was a project about cleaning and the value of human labor.  I learned how to weave rags from old bedsheets.  We did a year long show at Jane Addams Hull House at UIC.  I could go on and on right.   But it seems like I’m telling a joke about my life with no actual punchline.  Like I’m mockumentary in the flesh.  Here I am still out here ambiguous proving myself to some phantom army.  And here I am still not good enough for America staring it in the face.  After all this my life is still a fucking joke to people in the worst and most hurtful way.  It becomes exhausting to remind people you have acted on solutions to these modern problems.  Nobody cares about me and what I do about it year after year.  Trust me I get that part by now.  That’s what it seemed like for awhile.  And then I had the painful realization that the work never stops.  And it seems like I’m all alone doing all the work.  To be truthful a lot of the work and expectations follow me around after I leave my day job.  On my lunch break I had to break up a fight between a white christian woman and a fake monk on Michigan before it happened.  The woman came running down the street making a sign of the cross with her fingers.  I stepped in front of her and calmly asked her what the fuck she was doing.  She ran away in opposite direction.  Where’s my comic book Marvel?  

For all the things I’ve done I’m still just as mistrusted and questionable in the eyes of the social elite.  I’m never quite good enough.  Never quite valid enough to prove I’m just as just viable as a closet misogynist with a six figure salary.  I’ve been questionable for years only to realize that nobody has any answers for me on how to be otherwise without being me.  Other than me.  And so in the end only I really know how successful this has all been.  And only I know when it’s appropriate to stay the course or give up entirely.  I haven’t given up.  That’s self confidence talking.  And sometimes you have to lead yourself forward towards some sort of progress through the hazy chaos.  I spent an entire year answering political calls and surveys out of guilt.  Mostly due to what I would hear from my peers about the intrinsic value of being politically aware and woke in the arts.  When it comes to American politics I do participate at bare minimum in voting.  One robocall asked my political leanings.  I said left.  “So I’ll mark you down as progressive.”  I didn’t know how I felt about it at the time.  Progressive in Illinois is a strange beast.  We elected a billionaire for Governor and a lawyer for Mayor.  At surface level that sounds horrible and I guess the more you dig into Chicago and Illinois politics you’d find the same shit.  You need money in America to have a say in politics regardless of how many free speech arguments you win on the Internet.  You can of course vote and it would be remiss to say I haven’t seen progress in that.  As of January we have recreational Marijuana and abortion legal across the state.  I have seen the drug war up close and personal.  It sounds like I’m a vice news reporter.  I’ve probably nudged up against them too in the field but they pretend I don’t exist.  Maybe that’s a parable of the drug war and the media industrial complex.  Maybe shit was lame.  All I know is through a series of miracles in the democratic process smoking weed in Chicago isn’t as dangerous to your personal freedom as it used to be.  Making friends in public still is.  Welcome to snitchville.  Whereas New York is up close but never personal Chicago is your best friend and your arch enemy at the same time.  Progressive politics signifies that things move on, evolve and change.  I’ve read enough news feeds to understand the Governor made whatever possible by crossing the aisles.  Which can be read as compromise.  That’s government.  I’m a private citizen in America.  Or so one would think.  There’s endless commentary about how people like me don’t do enough.  Americans love to talk all day about privacy and talk can be cheap.  Facing the realities of a growing surveillance state that likes to masquerade as the land of the free is troubling.  So can facing the reality your favorite punk rock festival is using public space for profit in under served neighborhoods.  I’m more concerned about white dad rock masquerading as punk.  But insecure men would rather lash out at the me too movement than rock the boat.  You pick your battles right?  Generally when I’ve been the one to stand up to things it’s been about not moving backwards in terms of progressive beliefs.  I believe in a woman’s right to choose.  I got targeted on the street all summer because of it by Christians who thought it was ok to bring it to my face.  I didn’t get a medal and I sure as fuck didn’t really get a pat on the back.  I still have my secret support systems but I don’t have the luxury any more of hiding from who I am and what I believe.  I often stand by myself and what I believe and suffer for it.  Or worse it gets hijacked, misunderstood, and misrepresented by someone’s interpretation of what I’m trying to say.  And I sit here every Saturday morning wondering if I’ve made any progress in being happy at all.  

After failing so much in everything you get a little tired of falling for the same old tricks.  The personal is the most political you can be and I have years of resistance to draw from.  Nobody ever wants me to be me even after all the passionate posts on the internet about what I believe.  It goes nowhere.  There are people who do understand and people I trust.  But the reality in America is that is few and far between in public space.  The propaganda that we’re all free is largely based on some huge stipulations.  Money is one of them.  I work for a non profit.  You can do the math.  It feels like everything that the Left wanted me to be based on critique is largely ignored unless I have my wallet out.  And even then I’ve been happier being less liberal with my money in places where it isn’t respected.  I guess I could run away to Hong Kong and start over.  The irony of that is pretty funny right now.  I haven’t talked to that side of the family in a while since I’ve been off Facebook.  I haven’t left the country since I came back from China, Korea and Japan by myself since the first summit between Moon Jae-in and the other guy.  I don’t know that I feel very safe leaving the country.  I don’t feel very safe leaving my house these days.  So do I shrivel up and waste away hoping somebody will save me.  What have I done to deserve all this I’m not sure.  I’ve spent over three years clocking in hundreds of miles running around desolate and abandoned areas of Chicago.  What am I really afraid of at this point?  Dying alone and forgotten?  I feel dead inside already every day.  I have no hope any of this will change no matter how much we sit and argue about it.  Nobody does anything.  Nobody is out there with me other than the people close to my heart.  Nobody invites me to a special club other than me at my kitchen table on a Saturday morning.  For all the good I’ve done I’m still the first person to scapegoat as ‘problematic’ after all these years.  And I can’t even profit off it on the internet?  That’s a joke.  If listening to all these criticisms and taking them to heart got me where I am why do we still pay so much attention to Dave Chapelle’s career and for profit opinion?  I’m invisible.  Just like all the victims out there who are invalidated when somebody says they’re over reacting to sexual abuse and harassment.  I think America has enough problems that nobody wants to confront without us having an opinion about any other country’s sovereign dirty laundry.  And this is where I think we can all learn a little something about progress.  I got to where I am by believing in myself and resisting people’s judgements of who I am.  I got there by challenging my own perspective and growing into my own by putting my ideas into practice.  It hasn’t been easy.  It has been largely thankless and a complete mind fuck.  But I haven’t been alone as much as it seems.  People use so many words and get nowhere.  And then people learn how to communicate without ever opening their mouth.  People can say they love you all day long.  I’m always going to be out here showing you just how much it means to me regardless of who sees it and how they feel about it.  In that I err on the side of consistency.  If that makes me a loser I’m happy with the results.  <3 Tim

[weichang-zheng-blog]

Tuesday, 9/5/17, Cloudy 

It has been a while! 

I had a very very productive day today. Renovated and cleaned my room, went to club GIMs and had some fun. Next class starts in 8 hours.

I know I’ve written this before, but I really really appreciate this journey of self-discovery and self-improvement that I had been on since June. I will always take what I learned in these three months with me, to guide me through tough times.

All the power you need is inside your mind. If you are strong enough to control your mind, you can control your life. You can be whoever you want to be, you can do the impossibles, you can touch the lives of others. 

My mom keeps telling me you never know how much you’re worth until you push beyond what you think is your limit. She has never been more correct.

This summer I pushed myself everyday. I woke up when I was supposed to wake up. No matter how exhausted I was I did what needed to be done. I went swimming every single day. It didn’t matter if I had worn myself out doing manual labor that day, and I didn’t care if I didn’t eat. It was something I needed to do in order to become mentally strong. Weeks went by, swimming became a habit. Then, it took less strength than it did before  to say “fuck it, let’s go.” 

I am relieved that I stuck with the job. At times I felt like I was wasting my time or couldn’t find a purpose doing what I was doing, I chose not to quit. It made me realize that life is life, you will never get the full result if you only put in half the work. It is such a cliche, but no matter what you do, give it all you have, and you will discover something about yourself. It is that indescribable POWER that can only be found when you push yourself to exhaustion. Over time, you will see that you have become a different person. You have rewired your brain, because you literally lived outside your comfort zone. 

I will take that attitude with me. I will push myself everyday here in Binghamton. I will swim everyday doesn’t matter if I have 5 classes or no classes. I will stay with intermittent fasting. I will push myself everyday, and place myself in social situations and learn to be comfortable in it, so much so that it genuinely excites me when I can be a part of it. I will work out at least 3 times a week. I will get as involved in school as I can possibly be. I will meditate everyday, and read everyday. I will push myself so hard that in another 3 months, I can look back in the summer and appreciate this journey on a whole other level. 

[prorevenge]

A potential client tried to take advantage of me and I got her fired from her 'big-shot' marketing job.

Story Data: long story. 6517 votes. %96 upvote. highly popular. TL:DR at the end.

A little bit of backstory, I'm running a painting business over the summer as a Junior in college to pay for school. My prices are pretty fair as I hire college students and have a deal with Sherwin Williams as a contractor to get cheaper paint and materials.

Anyways, a potential client, we'll call her PC for pretentious cunt, scheduled an estimate with me about a month and a half ago for an interior bathroom job and a deck stain. I tell her the times I'm available, but she absolutely pushes for a time where I would have to rush over from a job site, do a hurried estimate, then run home to grab a bite of dinner before going to previously scheduled estimates. I'm a bit miffed but I said fuck it. Sales is hard, I should learn how to bend over backwards for clients. So I show up to do the estimate, and the whole time I'm getting my numbers together, she is talking me down, telling me how if she ran a business like I did, she would be fired from her big-shot marketing job immediately, and how I should be dressed better to respect the client. What I did to offend Her Majesty was I moved her plants to the side to be able the measure the deck better, and I came to the estimate in paint stained clothes since I had run over directly from the job site.

So I present the price of about $800 with a 10% day of estimate discount to book up the season and she says she needs a few days to consider it. Okay, fair enough right? I'll extend the discount a few days for her. So I come back a few days later expecting a yes or no answer and she sits me down and starts to haggle with me. At this point, I'm tired enough already from working in the sun all day and just want some food to stop the rumbles. After I give her another 5% discount just to close the job, she continues to haggle with me saying "The highest we can go is $600." When I finally tell her I can't go any lower on the job or I would actually lose money on it, she tells me that she got an estimate from another local company for $500 and that she wouldn't want me to match it because she wants to support the local community.

At this point, I'm exhausted and my brain is barely keeping me breathing but that price point doesn't sound right to me. I calculated my price based of a small profit, labor, and materials. Now I pay my painters $13 an hour and I hire college students. So if the other company is charging waaay less, they either pay their career painters even less (minimum wage where I am is $11) or the quality of paint is much lower. So I ask PC if they remember what paint the other company said they would use and she says she doesn't recall Fair enough, paint names are hard to remember if you don't see them that often. Then I ask if I could see their estimate contract to try to figure out why they were so much cheaper than I was. PC says that they didn't have an estimate sheet. Now this is a big no-no in any contracting business because you have to keep track of numbers, budgeted hours, etc. Now alarm bells are ringing in my head so I set a firm amount on the price of the previous estimate with the additional 5% discount which means that I make a measly $5 per hour I personally work on the job. PC finally agrees on the price saying "It's just $50 dollars, I can't see why you can't just give us more discount. At [my big-shot marketing job] I would give the customer a discount without hesitation" forgetting that A. The discount would be coming out of my broke college student pockets, not a big corporation and B. I already told her that I would only be getting about $5 per hour on the job even though she wants to "support the local community"

She asks if we take credit, but there is a 5% credit card fee that would come out of my already tiny slice of profit so I ask for check (which I told her we prefer during the original estimate). She tells me that she uses Chase which doesn't have a branch near us and that the nearest one is in New York (we are about half an hour from Boston). What?? Therefore, she cannot use check because she would have to order the checkbook from New York. I think, alright fine. I guess some people these days don't have checkbook. I reiterate that I will lose money on the job at that price point with the 5% fee tacked on and that I can wait until the checkbook arrives.

So I tell her that she can message or call me when the checkbook arrives and I can drive back to collect the deposit and have her sign the contract. On the way out, she tells me that the job needs to be finished before a certain date because she was having guests over. I explain to her that when I receive the deposit, I'll lock her in for a power wash of the deck which will need about a week to dry the we can stain it in one day. She mutters "... [something something] I can find the check book by tomorrow.." Come on now.. she just admitted to lying to me about having to order a check book from NY. So I say that's fine, let me know tomorrow afternoon so I can come by and finalize the contract.

When I get home, I decide to search up 'Chase branches near me' on Google because I found it really strange that there wasn't one closer that New York especially since we were pretty close to Boston. I kid you not, there was a Chase branch 14 minutes from her house. Now I'm pissed. I don't know what else she lied to me about so I call up my friend whose dad owns the company she talked about. He calls me later that day and says that he never did an estimate with her name or address.

I send her a message over Facebook Messenger (I do a lot of posts in local yard sale groups for exposure for my company so I set up estimates though Messenger) and called her out about the Chase branch, the check, and the "estimate" from the other painting company. She. Goes. Off. Here are a few memorable quotes from her rant - "You don't have the right to insult me like that, this is just your first year running a business and I've been working at [big-shot marketing job] for years now","it doesn't matter what I pay you because you're a young and money doesn't matter to you right now" (my facebook post literally says that I am running this business to pay for college) and my personal favorite "you people should be grateful that I even pay you $5 an hour for your work" (I'm Chinese).

At this point I'm ready to just block her and go to bed angry but I have an epiphany and just hear "[big-shot marketing job]" echo through my head. I take screenshots of the messages she sent me and slapped them along with a lengthy description of what happened in an email and sent copies to whatever email addresses I could find associated with the "big shot marketing company". I get an email back a couple days later from a different address than the ones I wrote to previously basically saying thank you for reaching out to us, this type of behavior is unacceptable and we will be conducting an internal investigation into PC. My Justice Boner is about half-mast but I think to myself, that'll be the last of it I guess.

Just today, I was messaging another old client and came across PC's conversation with me. I go to her profile and in the intro for her profile it now says "Works at Self-Employed." Instant full mast.

TL;DR A pompous, self righteous woman lies to me repeatedly to try to get a better deal on a paint job and when I call her out on her lies goes on a racist rant against me which I email to her company who fired her.

(source) (story by RicePaddyFarmer69)