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virgoilluminati · 2 months

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Hospitality at its Finest

a Jude Bellingham oneshot

Inspo: Basically i have the shittiest job ever, and the only thing that got me through it was thinking about how jude would comfort me at the end of a long shift. I feel like a lot of you gurlies can relate so enjoy ☺️

You had had the worst day.

Probably the worst day you'd had in years

And the only person you could blame was your boss.

He was an A grade arsehole. He only cared about how much money your restaurant made. How it made him look in front of the restaurant owners.

He didn't care about your feelings, how crying had become a normal part of the shift or how every time he walked in, your stomach tied in knots.

Today was an exemplar of it.

At the beginning of the shift, everything was fairly normal. You were supposed to start at 12pm, but you had come in early, caring for your colleagues and knowing that they would need the extra staff for the new delivery. As you mentally prepared yourself for the shift, you started putting away the new stock and organizing the kitchen.

Quickly looking at your phone one last time, you clocked into work before admiring your lock screen with Jude. After all, all of this was for your future.

As you made your way to the shop floor, it was dead silent. So silent that you knew the second you opened the door in the backroom, you'd be greeted with a mess. But you didn't expect what you were greeted with. Stacks of dishes towered precariously, remnants of ingredients sprawled across counters, and an unmistakable odor of burnt food lingered heavily in the air.

Your closest colleague Haley was on the ground, covered by stock boxes. When she see's you walk in, she smiles, but the exhaustion in her eyes betrays her forced cheerfulness. Without wasting a moment, you rush to help her up, setting the boxes aside.

"Wha-"

"Don't ask. It's Jamie. He overestimated our multitasking skills again. We could use all the help we can get right now."

You nod, taking in the chaotic scene. Rolling up your sleeves, you dive into the mess, prioritizing tasks in your head.

The second the doors to your restaurant opened, a wave of eager customers flooded in, adding to the already hefty workload. You had only just made your way out of the heavy stock room before you were serving your first customer, your manager already shaking his head.

You grabbed a notepad, scribbling down order after order with precision. As you do such, you realise that no one has set up back of house, and whilst everyone was dealing with the stock, you'd be doing both positions, already.

Oh gawd it was going to be a long day.

The next issues happened just after the lunchtime peak. Your manager—ever the perfectionist—decided to go out and back home to get changed. He didn’t tell any of you, just putting your colleague Hetty in charge.

Now, for all of the reasons you loved Hetty, she was a terrible team leader. She spent half of the time bossing everyone around, whilst the other half chatting and gossiping about the managers. So when you realized that she was in charge, you knew it was going to turn sideways.

What made it even worse was halfway through the shift you suddenly got cramps. It could only mean one thing: your period.

You knew better than to miss your orders, so you managed to deal with the cramps and act normal. But as soon as anyone’s order was mentioned, you gritted your teeth. Deep down, you could feel your cramps churning up. But you managed to keep your cool. Or at least until Hetty began barking orders at you, telling you that while you were making a cheesecake, you also needed to clean the station, get the ice cream ready for service, and get the lunch menu ready that was just coming out.

Needless to say, you didn’t really listen to her orders, instead focusing on the four cheesecakes you needed to bake, twenty lusty turkeys, and the rest of your workload that’s coming in. You’d maybe gotten halfway done with the orders when suddenly your stomach muscles tightened and spasmed at the same time. It hurt to breathe in, so you tried to breathe in as slowly as possible, praying to God that the next person who insulted you would take it back as soon as they said it.

Now, you’re screwed, because between the pain in your stomach and the pressure from the customers, it was overwhelming. To make matters even worse, your restaurant owner Jiah, a certified misogynist, stood next to you as you prepared each of the dishes. Every mistake you made, or anything you said to Hetty, was being monitored. At first, it was fine—still stressful, but you were so preoccupied that you didn’t care. Until you accidentally spilled three of your cheesecakes on the ground.

Every time someone shouted at you, it felt like someone was digging into your sides. Your vision blurred slightly as you bent down to clean up the mess. As you rose, you saw Jiah’s disapproving glare. You braced yourself, knowing a reprimand was imminent.

“Do you even know how much those cheesecakes cost?” Jiah hissed, his face reddening.

"Sorry-"

You nodded, biting your tongue to keep from snapping back. Losing your temper wouldn’t help anything, especially not with Jiah watching your every move. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the tasks at hand, prioritizing the most urgent ones. Hetty’s voice cut through the noise of the kitchen, but you tuned her out as best you could. There was no time to waste arguing with her or explaining why you couldn’t drop everything to clean the station right this second.

The cramps were relentless, and you clutched your stomach briefly, willing the pain to subside. A few of your colleagues noticed and offered sympathetic looks, but they were just as swamped as you were. It was clear that everyone was feeling the strain of the lunchtime rush.

You managed to get the cheesecakes into the oven and started on the turkeys. The repetitive motions of seasoning and prepping gave you a momentary distraction from the pain. But it wasn’t long before Hetty was back, barking orders again.

“You still haven’t cleaned the station! And where’s the ice cream?” she demanded.

“Working on it,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. But the frustration was building, and you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You blinked them back, determined not to let anyone see you break down.

Finally, a small reprieve: the cheesecakes were done, and you could focus on plating the desserts and getting them out to the customers. But just as you thought you might be able to catch your breath, Jiah appeared again. He didn’t say anything, but his disapproving glare spoke volumes.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. When you accidentally spilled three of your cheesecakes on the ground, Jiah’s look was withering. He didn’t need to say a word; his expression made it clear he was counting this as yet another mark against you.

“Get it together,” you heard him mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. You nodded, biting your tongue to keep from snapping back. Losing your temper wouldn’t help anything, especially not with Jiah watching your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you focused on the tasks at hand, prioritizing the most urgent ones. Hetty’s voice cut through the noise of the kitchen, but you tuned her out as best you could. There was no time to waste arguing with her or explaining why you couldn’t drop everything to clean the station right this second.

Just as it began to calm down again, Jiah's glare disappearing from notion, Hetty came over to apologize for being stressy.

"Sorry for earlier," she said, her tone uncharacteristically soft. "I know I was a bit much."

You accepted her apology with a nod. "It's okay. We were all under a lot of pressure. I was just about to go to the toilet."

Before you could make your way to the restroom, a call came through the kitchen, telling everyone to gather in the staff room. You tried to hold yourself together, though you could feel tears threatening to flow. The cramps were still gnawing at your insides, and the stress of the day had worn you thin.

As you and the rest of the staff assembled in the cramped room, the air was thick with apprehension. Jamie, another manager, stormed in, his face a mask of fury. He didn't waste a second before launching into a tirade.

"I just got a bollocking from the owner! What the hell happened here?" he bellowed. "This is so embarrassing! We've had multiple complaints from customers, dishes sent back, and unacceptable delays. This is not the standard we uphold here!"

His words were like blows, each one landing heavily. You stood there, silent and still, trying to absorb it all without breaking down. The cramps were relentless, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the pain.

For about forty minutes, Jamie continued his verbal assault, highlighting every mistake and misstep. You could feel the tension in the room, everyone too afraid to speak or move. As he yelled, you just stood there, taking it in, feeling smaller and more defeated with every passing second.

"This has to stop now," Jamie continued, his voice growing louder. "I expect better from all of you. No more excuses. The owner is furious, and honestly, I can't blame him. Today was a disaster!"

With that, he stormed out, leaving the staff in stunned silence. You could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you fought to keep them at bay. The pain in your stomach and the weight of Jamie's words were almost too much to bear.

Hetty gave you a sympathetic look but didn't say anything. Everyone slowly dispersed, heading back to their stations or taking a moment to collect themselves. You made a beeline for the restroom, finally letting the tears flow once you were safely behind the closed door.

Just as you began to take a couple of minutes to calm down, Jamie pulled you over.

"Hey, I need to ask you something," he said, his tone softer but still urgent. "Are you willing to leave early today?"

You had already had to cut a shift recently, and your hours were pretty low. "I really need the hours, Jamie. I'd prefer to stay."

He frowned. "I need to get rid of some staff because there's too many on right now."

You tried to politely refuse again, but before you could finish, he called out, "Hayley! Do you want to leave early?"

"Sure," Hayley replied without hesitation.

"See, it's not personal," Jamie said, turning back to you. Feeling completely deflated, you turned to get your stuff and clock out.

As you gathered your things, Jamie turned to you one more time. "By the way, you sat down too much today."

You were gobsmacked. "I didn't sit down at all."

"No, you were," he insisted. "And that's not acceptable."

You went to protest again, but he cut you off. "No, you were, and that's not acceptable."

Feeling a mix of frustration, exhaustion, and defeat, you bit back any further response. As you clocked out and walked out of the restaurant, you felt the tears begin to well up again.

By the time you got on the bus, the tears were streaming down your face. You found a seat at the back, hoping no one would notice as you buried your face in your hands and sobbed. The day's events replayed in your mind: the stress, the pain, the unfairness of it all. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on you, and you couldn't hold it in any longer.

As the bus moved through the city streets, you cried, letting out all the frustration and sorrow. You knew you had to face another day tomorrow, but for now, all you could do was let yourself feel the pain and hope that somehow, things would get better.

When you arrived home, you tried to wipe away your tears, determined to put on a brave face for Jude Bellingham, who had just returned from football camp. You were emotionally drained but wanted to be supportive and positive for him.

As you walked through the door, Jude was in the kitchen, looking relaxed and cheerful. He noticed your subdued demeanor but decided to wait before saying anything.

"Hey, how was work?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"It was... busy," you replied, forcing a smile. "But let’s not focus on that. How was camp?"

Jude’s face lit up as he started recounting his experiences. "Camp was fantastic! We had some intense training sessions and a lot of fun. You won’t believe the prank Trent and I pulled on the new guys. We got them to believe they had to complete this ridiculous obstacle course to join the team."

He continued with animated enthusiasm, "And then there was the friendly match against a local team. Trent and I were trying out these new moves, and it was amazing to see the crowd’s reaction. We felt like rock stars!"

You nodded and smiled at the right moments, trying to engage with his excitement, but your mind kept drifting back to the stress of the day. Despite your efforts to seem interested, you felt a growing sense of overwhelm.

Jude’s stories flowed effortlessly. "Oh, and the camp mascot incident was hilarious. Trent and I ended up in the costume, and we had this impromptu dance-off with the kids. It was one of those moments where you just can’t stop laughing."

As he chatted, you found yourself struggling to keep up the façade. Your responses became more mechanical, and you occasionally glanced at the clock, feeling the weight of your exhausting day pressing down on you.

Jude seemed to sense something was off but kept going. "You know, I was telling Trent about how you and I used to go to that little café downtown. He said he’s been there before and loved it. We should go sometime."

You forced a laugh and nodded. "That sounds great."

As dinner preparation continued, you made an effort to stay present, but the stress from earlier was starting to take its toll. You kept insisting you were fine, even though you felt increasingly overwhelmed.

In the midst of this, you were preoccupied with trying to balance cooking and maintaining a cheerful demeanor. As you pulled a dish out of the oven, you accidentally brushed against the hot rack. The sudden sharp pain in your hand was like a jolt that broke through your emotional walls.

You cried out and rushed to the sink, holding your burned hand under the cold tap, your composure finally shattering. Tears streamed down your face as the pain seemed to trigger a flood of emotions from the stressful day.

Jude, who had been in the living room, heard your cry and the sound of your sobbing. He rushed into the kitchen and saw you with your hand under the tap, tears flowing freely.

"Hey, what happened?" Jude asked urgently, moving quickly to your side.

"I—I burned myself," you managed to say through sobs. "I’m so sorry... I tried to keep it together, but I couldn’t."

Jude gently took your hand from under the tap and inspected the burn. His concern deepened as he carefully wrapped your hand in a clean towel.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, m’love. It’s okay—speak to me,” Jude said, his voice filled with concern as he moved to your side.

“What do you mean? I’m okay, I just burned myself,” you tried to explain, though your voice was trembling.

“Y/N, do you think I was born yesterday? I know my girlfriend, and I know when she’s upset. What happened?” Jude asked, his tone gentle but firm.

His insistence broke through your remaining resolve. You burst into tears, the emotional strain of the day combining with the pain of the burn. “I—I had such a terrible day. Jamie was so harsh, and everything seemed to go wrong. I was trying so hard to keep it together, but I just couldn’t anymore.”

Jude’s expression softened, filled with empathy and concern. “No, don’t say that. You’re not stupid. You’re my Y/N. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve handled it with so much strength and grace.”

He gently took your hand from under the tap and wrapped it in a clean towel. Pulling you into a comforting embrace, he continued, “Your a trooper you know.”

You clung to him, the warmth of his embrace providing a much-needed sense of security. Jude held you close, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness. He stroked your hair softly and whispered in your ear, “You’re amazing, you know that? You’re allowed to have bad days and to feel overwhelmed. I’m here to help you through it, no matter what.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely as he continued to hold you. Jude’s soothing presence and gentle touch helped ease the burden of the day. He spoke softly, his voice full of love and reassurance. “You’ve been so strong, but it’s okay to let go and lean on me. I’m here to support you, to lift you up when you need it.”

Jude carefully wrapped your burned hand in a clean towel, his touch gentle but deliberate. He then pulled you into a comforting embrace. “Why don’t you head to the living room and take a breather? I’ll sort out dinner. And try not to make any more of the place look like a disaster zone, yeah?”

You managed a weak smile as you headed to the living room, still sniffling. The sounds of Jude bustling around in the kitchen—pots clattering, the hum of the stove—provided a bit of distraction as you settled onto the couch.

A few minutes later, Jude walked into the living room with his phone in hand and plopped down beside you. He placed his phone on the coffee table and began gently wiping away the tears from your cheeks.

“I don’t want anyone treating you like that,” Jude said firmly, but with a soft edge. “I’ve had a word with the higher-ups about Jamie. It’s not on.”

You looked at him, surprised. “You did? How’d you manage that?”

Jude grinned. “Let’s just say I’m good at sorting things out when it comes to my people."

You chuckled despite yourself. “Well, thanks. I didn’t think you’d go this far.”

Jude gave a cheeky wink. “I was gonna sort it anyway, oh, also, um well now seemed like the perfect time.”

"Jude-"

He pulled out his phone and showed you the screen. “I’ve had a chat with my agent. "

"What?!!"

"Got you a photography gig lined up. It’s something you’ve always wanted to do. Figured now’s as good a time as any.”

You were stunned, your eyes widening. “What-? How-When? How did you even know I wanted this now?”

Jude’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’ve been paying attention, love. You think i haven't notice your Pinterest boards? Or your amazon wish list?”

You laughed, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “I don’t even know what to say. This is amazing.”

Jude squeezed your hand gently. “You don’t have to say a thing. Just remember, you’re brilliant, and you deserve all the good things. And if you ever leave me for a glamorous photographer life, just make sure to give me a shout-out in your interviews.”

You playfully nudged him. “Oh, so you’re worried I’ll become too famous for you?”

Jude grinned. "If that means sharing a bit of the limelight, so be it.”

You leaned into him, feeling a mix of relief and affection. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

Jude wrapped his arms around you. “I’m the lucky one. Seeing you happy is what matters to me. Now let’s enjoy the rest of the night. And if dinner turns into a burnt mess, at least we’ll have a laugh about it.”

Jude’s comforting presence and playful banter started to lift the weight of the day, bringing a renewed sense of hope and connection. His support and Brummie humor made the evening feel a lot brighter and more manageable.

#fanfiction #jude bellingham #leah williamson #womens world cup #england football #englandwomensfootball #womens football #football fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #judebellingham

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bluecollarmcandtf · 5 months

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Cash Slave, reporting in...

Good morning, master. State Trooper Hernandez reporting!

I hope you're doing well since the last time we saw each other. Again, I can't apologize enough for pulling you over on the highway. I had no idea you were such an amazing hypnotist. Thank you again for letting me get off easy and only making me taze myself twice! I was paralyzed in that muddy ditch for awhile, but you could've given me a helluva worse punishment!

Your instructions aren't negotiable, so I made sure to snap a photo before I started my shift today. As you suggested, I've been eating a box of donuts every morning, and I've packed on a hefty 30 lbs since I've started. My wife has complained, but I know you want me to look more like a cliche of law enforcement!

I'll stop by your house to drop off my paycheck tonight after work. I won't forget to pick up some pizza for you and your friends on the way: extra sausage, just like you said!

See you tonight, master!

Hello sir.

It's been a week since you came into my shop, and I've followed everything you said. I didn't agree with it at first, but you convinced me with that little pendant.

You were right! I really am beneath powerful men like you. Filthy blue-collar workers aren't worthy to lick the dirt off your shoes. You were right to point that out, and you were right to tell me to embrace it. When the world looks at me, they shouldn't see a man. They should see a grease monkey at the bottom of society.

That's why I haven't showered or changed in seven days. My BO is uncomfortable to work in, but I know it's just a reminder of what I am. I used to be proud of my job. Ha! I used to look down on suits like you, but I'm nothing in comparison; just a tool at your disposal.

Anyways, I cleaned and waxed your old car as fast as I could. I know I lent you my convertible, but you're welcome to keep it. I put a lot of sweat and blood in fixing her up, but like you said, fancy cars are meant for you to drive and me to maintain.

Stop back in my garage anytime. White-collar men like you get free service here! It's not the place of any lowly laborer to get in the way of what you want.

Thank you again, sir.

Hello boss.

Just started another long day of window washing! It's another hot one, but I'll keep my head down and sweat through it like usual.

I've gotta say, it's days like this that make me miss the comforts of my old corporate desk job. I'd kill for some AC right now, but I remember how much you made me realize I hated that career. Like you said, I'm much better suited to a life of mindless cleaning.

It turns out you're the real one with a knack for business strategy because all of your advice has been genius! The income is dependent on the hours I put in, and since I'm working for half the price of all competitors, I've gotten a monopoly on the market! I've fully booked all seven days for the next five or so weeks, so I'll be washing windows non-stop!

The business is already booming! I've been billing customers to your bank account, so you should already see all the profit in there!

Later today, I'll make a note of the minimum I need to replenish the cleaning supplies I'm running through. I'd also be grateful if you loaned me a bit for personal use, but it's understandable if you can't spare any! We agreed that I wasn't working for a salary, and I'm fine with that! I've been sleeping in the company van the last few weeks and it's more than good enough for me!

Don't worry, boss. I'll get back to work!

Tell my wife hello for me, master!

Working on a rig has been isolating. The job is brutal, the days are long, and every night I head back to our bunks covered in oil. I thought I'd at least get to bond with the other guys, but most of us are too tired to do anything but eat and sleep after our shift.

The only thing that's getting me through it is thinking about you. I know I also have a girl at home, but you were the one that gave my life purpose. I was never going to make money as an actor, and you helped me see that! You were the one that convinced me to go for this ridiculous job in the middle of the ocean, and now I'm making a ton of money!

You deserve it all.

I wouldn't have seen any of this cash if I hadn't stuck around after your stage hypnosis show. I still remember the wild look in your eyes when you came up with this idea for me. I also remember that hungry look you had when you saw my wife. It was impossible to say no.

Oh, and thanks for keeping my wife company while I'm gone. A man like you deserves her attention more than I do. Like you said, I doubt I was pleasing her to begin with. The only thing I'm good for is earning money, and I hope you're enjoying it because it sure isn't easy to earn!

I gotta get back, but I wanted to let you know that I signed up for another six months like you suggested. It's lonely, but I'm happy to do it, master!

Son, or should I still call you 'sir'?

I'm not sure if I your new title applies through text as well? Being your dad and your servant can be a bit confusing, but I don't mean disrespect you! Just let me know.

My workout is done and I'm headed back to your house. I signed the deed over to you this morning, so you officially own it now! Like usual, I'll clean the place from top to bottom. I've got all the mops and cleaning supplies in my van and ready to go. Since it's Friday, I'll start on the weekly yard work; mowing, weeding, etc... I don't want to bore you with the details, but it'll take the majority of the day to keep your place in tip top shape!

As I understand it, you are having friends over tonight, so I'll prepare a three course meal for eight. I ironed my apron this morning so I should look like a more presentable waiter than last night when I served your food!

As always, please let me know if there's any other way I can be of service today or tonight.

I'll be awaiting your return, sir.

Hey little bro,

I just finished my workout at the gym with dad. We're both hitting PRs and we're really starting to see some results! Still can't believe you hypnotized his dumb ass to think he's your butler! That man looks so stupid changing from gym clothes into a bowtie and gloves. He's constantly calling you 'sir' too, even when you're not around.

He's such an idiot.

Anyways, I'm all dressed and ready for my new job. You were totally right. I'm going to be so much happier as a clown instead of a wrestler. I'm about to head out to my first gig; a ten year old's birthday party. I think he's the kid of someone I used to compete with. It might be a little awkward, but it won't affect my routine. I've got an afternoon of pies in the face and self-deprecating humor ahead of me.

I made sure to tell the guy who hired me that I'm willing to stay after and clean up. Kids make a huge mess after all. I just hope he won't be too weird about me being a clown at his son's party. We may have been rivals in the past, but that was back when I wrestled. Now I'm just a joke for hire. He's technically my boss for the day, so I'll have to get used to taking orders from him.

Wish me luck, bro. I'll give you the money after the dad dismisses me. Let's hope I make a good clown!

#mind control #gay hypnosis #hypno story #gay ai art #hypnotized #servant

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robertreich · 7 months

Video

youtube

Think Tipping Is Out of Control? Watch This.

TWO DOLLARS AND THIRTEEN CENTS AN HOUR.

That’s how much millions of American workers are paid under the federal subminimum wage — which was set all the way back in 1991.

While many think tipping for services has gotten out of control, arguing over who deserves a tip and how much they should get distracts from what we should really be angry about: business models that depend on not paying workers a living wage.

It’s bad enough that the federal minimum wage is a measly $7.25 an hour. But employers are allowed to pay tipped workers just $2.13 an hour because supposedly the workers will be able to make up for it in tips.

Saru Jayaraman of One Fair Wage has been advocating to change this absurd and exploitative law. I asked her to share with us FOUR big reasons why we need to get rid of the subminimum wage and pay service workers a full living wage with tips on top.

Number 1: Workers who earn a subminimum wage often end up making less than the minimum wage

43 states currently allow certain workers to be paid a subminimum wage. Employers in these states are legally required to make up the difference if a worker’s combined wage and tips don’t reach the full minimum wage. But over a third of tipped workers report that their bosses regularly fail to do this.

That’s because enforcement of wage laws is lax, and it makes it easier for employers to get away with shortchanging staff.

Number 2: The subminimum wage perpetuates gender discrimination and harassment on the job

More than two-thirds of tipped workers — 70% — in the U.S. are women. And one in six women that work a tipped job are living in poverty — that’s nearly 2.5 times the rate for workers overall.

Since workers earning the subminimum wage are so dependent on tips to make a living, they are put in situations where they have to tolerate inappropriate customer behavior. A staggering 76 percent — that’s more than three-quarters of tipped workers — have reported experiencing sexual harassment on the job. And that only got worse during the pandemic.

Number 3: Tipping is actually a relic of slavery

Tipped workers are disproportionately people of color. And Black service workers in particular consistently earn less, including tips, than their white counterparts for doing the same job.

Look, this inequity of the subminimum wage is tied to America’s history of structural racism.

Following the Civil War, tipping was used as a racist solution by employers who didn’t want to pay formerly enslaved Black workers. So by allowing them to pay their workers just in tips rather than a wage, employers were able to avoid directly paying these workers.

Number 4: Paying workers a living wage plus tips is actually better for business — and our economy.

Corporate lobbyists, particularly for the restaurant industry, warn that paying workers a full minimum wage with tips on top will be devastating to businesses. But research shows these fears are completely overblown.

So far, seven states have replaced their subminimum wage for tipped workers with a higher minimum wage that still allows for tips on top. These seven states are actually faring better than the 43 states with subminimum wages for tipped workers — both in the number of restaurants and number of people employed by restaurants. And take home pay for restaurant servers and bartenders in these states was 24% higher than in states with a wage of just $2.13 an hour.

Workers at restaurants that have scrapped their subminimum wages in favor of higher minimum wages with tips on top are more productive, happier, and less likely to quit their jobs. This alone helps business owners cut employee turnover nearly in half. This is especially important following the pandemic, when restaurants are facing historic staffing shortages because over 1 million workers have left the industry due to low pay.

So not only have higher wage states been able to maintain their industries, but workers are more productive, getting paid more, and less likely to live in poverty.

And when workers have more money, they spend more money — stimulating their local economies in the process.

And for the first time in 30 years, workers are winning on this issue, like in DC and Chicago and a dozen other states.

The bottom line is that ending the subminimum wage for tipped workers is better for workers, it’s better for business, it’s better for our economy — and it’s the right thing to do.

#youtube #tipping #tips #viral #videos #video #minimum wage #economics

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deancaspinefest · 8 months

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Another Kind of Memory

Author: FriendofCarlotta | Artist: Aggiedoll

Posting on Wednesday March 20

Since a traumatic incident six years ago, Castiel Novak’s face has been disfigured by a scar. He’s resigned himself to being someone people can barely stand to look at, let alone love. Except his heart doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. When Dean Winchester takes over the convenience store down the street from Castiel’s bookshop, Castiel falls helplessly in love with his new neighbor. To make matters worse, Castiel’s sister Anna is also interested in Dean. Believing that Dean could never love him, Castiel decides to help Anna win his heart instead.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Hey,” Dean says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Just… wanted to say hi.”

“Oh. Hi,” Castiel says, one hand fluttering nervously down his face and across his hair in an attempt to ensure he’s looking presentable. The tips of his fingers catch on the ugly, jagged ridge of his scar, and he remembers that “presentable” stopped being an option six years ago. He clears his throat and arranges his face in the polite mask of a consummate customer service professional. “Anything I can help you find?”

“Um.” Dean looks uncertain now, as though it’s a question he wasn’t expecting — despite the fact that it’s easily the most predictable question one could be asked in a bookshop. “I don’t know. I was just gonna browse, I guess.”

This is the point in a customer interaction where Castiel would usually withdraw, because “I’m just browsing” is universal bookstore code for “leave me the fuck alone.” But Dean doesn’t give any sign of wanting to walk away. Instead, he simply hovers in front of Castiel’s armchair, eyes gliding aimlessly (and somewhat helplessly) across the shelves to his right.

“What sort of things do you like to read?” Castiel finds himself asking, because it’s impossible not to take pity on a grown man who is capable of looking so bashfully lost.

“Anything,” Dean says. One of his hands flies to the back of his neck, rubbing at it. There’s something terribly endearing about the gesture — perhaps the fact that it makes him look like a boy who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Belatedly, it occurs to Castiel that it’s his turn to speak. His prolonged silence appears to have made Dean nervous, because he’s speaking again, a little too quickly to be altogether natural. “I know that sounds stupid. Like those people who say they like all kinds of music — which I don’t, by the way, just to be clear. Big classic rock fan. Zeppelin, the Stones. Metallica too, which I guess is classic rock these days and fuck, that’s kind of depressing. But, yeah. Anyway. Pretty much anything. Love Vonnegut and Kerouac, but I’ve read just about all their stuff. I’ll read sci-fi, horror, mysteries… actually, I guess I should say I read all kinds of fiction. Non-fiction kinda puts me right to sleep. My brother, Sammy, he’s a big fan though. Crazy about true crime for some reason.” Dean blows out a heavy breath. He abruptly seems to realize he’s scratching at his neck and lowers his arm back down, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves now. “You probably didn’t need to know all that, huh?”

“No, this is helpful,” Castiel says, getting up. “I’ll show you the layout of the store so you can see which shelves you might be most interested in.”

Somehow, Dean’s shyness makes him feel more at ease. When he first laid eyes on Dean, he thought someone as handsome as Dean must be a smooth and confident conversationalist. But he doesn’t seem to be, and somehow, that makes it easier for Castiel to hold up his own end of the conversation.

Or maybe it’s just that Dean doesn’t know how to talk to someone like Castiel. He wouldn’t be the first one.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Wednesday March 20)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: FriendofCarlotta #artist: Aggiedoll #Inspired by Cyrano de Bergerac #Love Letters #Misunderstandings

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jtl-fics · 1 year

Text

Fluent Freshman - Part 08

FF knows that it might be possible to get a new flight and that the excuse of “Oh I found a flight so I could go spend the holiday with my Gran” would probably be unassailable even tot he great unknown of Andrew Minyard’s displeasure (FF has not yet figured out when the pin will drop and Andrew will come at him. The man is a stone wall but FF knows that Andrew doesn’t like him and that knowledge is confirmed every time Andrew and Captain Neil come into Nicky’s dorm and find FF there hanging out with Nicky and he sees both Andrew and Captain Neil frown at him.)

It’s just that it takes 7-10 business days for him to build up the nerve to have to call someone and deal with customer service and it would take more bravery than he currently has to press forward and actually get a flight that would WORK. He has a very limited window for when he can get to Washington. HIs Gran had called a friend to borrow a car to pick him up and that was only available during a 6 hour window on his arrival date.

He COULD get a taxi to his Gran’s house but… (“What if I get kidnapped, what if I get trafficked, how do I tell a normal taxi from a taxi that will take me to a place where I’ll wake up in an ice bath and down a kidney, what if the taxi driver doesn’t like me, what if the taxi driver wants to talk, I don’t have anything interesting to say! What if he says mean things about me in his native language on the phone and I have to pretend that I don’t know what he’s SAYING?)… he’d probably die during the hour long ride from the anxiety.

He tells his Gran and she promises to get a pie out to him A.S.A.P.

It almost makes him feel better until he remembers what he had agreed to when Andrew came at him at his WEAKEST MOMENT to get him to agree to spend an entire four days at the house in Columbia he has HEARD stories about.

FF, laying face down on the floor in Nicky’s dorm as Nicky pats his back: Nicky next time you see me about to agree to something that will result in me getting killed I NEED you to run up and just punch me in the jaw. I’m begging you. You know I’m a disaster.

Nicky thinking about how Andrew has gotten weirdly protective of FF since the whole step brother incident: I need you to understand that that will result in ME being killed which I am not a big fan of.

FF misunderstanding: My grandma’s not THAT strong Nicky. At most grandmothers from across the country will frown disapprovingly at you.

Nicky thinking about all the little old ladies who dote on FF for inexplicable reasons and how some of them know he’s FF’s friend and give Nicky the grandma experience he had lacked growing up: Somehow that’s even worse than what I was thinking :(

***

Nicky coming to check on FF hours later: Are…are you watching the Saw movies?

FF taking copious notes: I need to prepare myself to survive Columbia. Do you have a basement or will Andrew be moving me to a secondary location?

Nicky walking over and shutting off the TV: I think it’s time to go to bed champ.

FF: If I don’t sleep then Andrew can’t drag me to a secondary location. I bought a 20 pack of five hour energy because that is the most the CVS would sell me.

Nicky: They cut you off??

FF: Yeah the manager there said he’d sell it as a ‘favor’ to a ‘loyal customer’ but to destroy my receipt and I had to buy in cash in case I die from a heart attack so it’s not linked to them. So if I play my cards right I have around 4 days of energy right here. I have looked up all the foods that can make you sleepy and will be avoiding them to stack the deck.

Nicky guiding FF towards his bedroom: Y’know that includes turkey. Also those five hour energy shots will be murder on your tummy. :(

FF: I am willing to make some sacrifices so I can live to see 19 Nicky. Also I figure I can just drink an entire bottle of Pepto per bottle of five hour energy resulting in a net neutral situation in my stomach.

Nicky tucking FF into bed carefully: Or result in you going to the hospital for an overdose get some sleep Smith. Andrew is not planning on killing you.

FF already falling asleep because his stress energy is running out: You have no idea how much he dislikes me and how much pepto my body can handle but you’re right about going to sleep. I’ll need my strength to power through the reverse bear trap let alone a laser collar.

***

2 of Grandma Smith’s apple pies arrive in the early afternoon of Thanksgiving via a little old lady turning up at Abby’s house who is a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of Grandma Smith. The Foxes take a moment to marvel that somehow it is still warm despite apparently having been Granny expressed across the country despite the storm.

The delivering old lady pinches FF’s cheek and says not to be too disheartened and that his Grandma loves him and will see him for Christmas Break for SURE. She hands him a little note his Gran sent with the pies and he pointedly does not read it there.

This would make FF happy if he hadn’t been swearing up down left and right that he didn’t TALK to his grandma to Andrew whose eyes he can FEEL on him.

He manages a “THANKS.” In a perfectly normal tone. He has no memory that he already told Andrew and Captain Neil that he was spending the holiday with his grandma since he had blue screened at the offer last time and had rebooted in safe mode to power walk away from the situation.

“Your grandma is really nice.” Captain Neil says. “Those pies look good.”

FF, his anxiety momentarily overridden by a soul-deep love for his grandma, “My gran is the BEST and so are her pies.” And then he hears what he has said and walks back into Abby’s house to set out one pie for everyone else and goes and stress eats the second one on the living room couch after he promised Abby he’d clean up any mess.

He wonders if he’ll make it to Christmas Break as he sees Kevin Day staring at him in abject horror while Andrew stares straight at him.

Even with the attention on him he decides to check the note the other granny had given him from his Gran. It is in her native polish so he feels his shoulders relax since no one would be able to read it.

‘For my little Chicken, this isn’t your last meal like you texted me. I know you will be fine. I am thankful for you in my life every day.’

He tucks the note in his pocket and feels a little better.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos

#Fluent Freshman AU #Andrew is a man who can't help but be impressed when someone can put away an entire pie #Kevin is a man who is planning an entire diet plan for FF because JFC he's not going to let there be 2 ANDREWS #Nicky is jonsing for a slice but Abby won't let him have one until after dinner #FF gets to eat the pie because he's so visibly distraught about not seeing his gran and Abby's heart aches for him #FF gets to eat a pie on her couch #As a treat #Besides FF is down like 4 pounds he needs the weight #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG shitpost #AFTG Fic #My Fic #andreil #FF - Pt. 08

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Light the Way - Part One

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Angst, date rape/roofies, slight BDSM Word count: ~4k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Starting a new job is never easy, it's even worse when your boss is an arsehole. When he unexpectedly comes to the rescue though, the relationship dynamic changes drastically.

She graduated from university a year ago with a Bachelor’s degree in PR and Marketing, and still has no idea what she wants from life, although the last twelve months of working as a barista have proven to her that a career in hospitality and customer service is definitely not it. Having happened across an online advertisement of a vacancy for the position of a personal assistant at a private law firm, she applied on a whim, never expecting to hear back. It’s not like she was qualified anyway, so she had nothing to lose

Yet, here she is, almost four weeks later, standing in the foyer of Red Keep Legal, preparing to begin her first day. The office building is sleek and modern, minimalist in decor, yet the polish of everything suggests it is incomprehensibly expensive. A handsome, bearded, older man, dressed in a sharp suit collects her from reception. She learns his name is Otto Hightower and he is a partner at the firm. They are high end solicitors and only take on the most exclusive of clients. She turns his business card over in her hands, the thickness of the smooth, matte black cardstock is high quality, with ornate golden lettering and a blood red logo of a three headed dragon. She knows she has seen that logo before, but can’t place where exactly.

“You’ll be a personal assistant to my grandson, Aemond.” Otto tells her. “He’s working on a particularly tricky case at the moment, so you’ll be responsible for ensuring he has everything he needs. I imagine he won’t ask you to do much more than get him coffee.”

So there it was, the reason she’d gotten the job. She was hoping her coffee making days were behind her, but no such luck. She sighs inwardly, the bitter irony is almost comical.

“Anyway, if you have no further questions, I shall introduce you to Aemond.” Otto concludes.

She smiles and nods politely as he turns on his heel and leads her towards the elevator, stopping on the second to last floor. She follows him along a marble floored corridor, before he gently raps his knuckles against the rich mahogany of an office door. After a few moments the door swings open to reveal the most ethereal being she’d ever laid eyes upon. He is impossibly tall without being gangly or awkward; his long, lithe limbs flow like water as he props himself against the doorframe. His silky, silver locks are perfectly coiffed and she feels self conscious as the bright blue of his right eye scans all the way from her feet to the top of her head, analysing every inch. She notices the skin around his left eye is lightly scarred - the only indication that the realistic prosthetic that sits within the socket isn’t something he can actually see out of. The simple long sleeved top and black trousers she’s wearing suddenly feel drab in comparison to the well tailored navy blue suit he wears, and she fights the urge to hide herself.

“Aemond, this is your new personal assistant.” Otto informs him, gesturing towards her. “Your mother and I worked hard to find this one, so perhaps you could try being a little more cordial than last time.”

She doesn’t stop to think about what that could possibly mean, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in and rushing forward, smiling wide and extending a hand.

“Hi Aemond! It’s wonderful to meet you!”

His plush, full lips remain unmoving, as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, not returning the gesture and continuing to study her.

She drops her hand, feeling deflated and laughs nervously.

Clearly not picking up on the awkwardness, or simply not caring, Otto glances between the two of them, before giving a curt nod and striding back towards the elevator.

Aemond watches him go before returning his attention back to her.

“Wonderful to meet me, hm?” he finally says, quirking an eyebrow.

Before she can respond, he continues, “Look, I’ve told my grandfather I don’t need an assistant and I like my own space. I’m looking over some contracts at the moment, so I would prefer it if you could make yourself scarce.” He disappears from view, allowing his office door to close behind him.

She immediately feels miserable. Her shoulders slump as she stands in front of the closed door. The first day of a new job should feel exciting, especially when your boss is so breathtakingly handsome, but this guy is rude and has declared her useless within minutes of meeting her. For a moment she considers just walking out and not returning.

She spends the remainder of the day sitting at her desk that’s positioned to the outer left of Aemond’s door. No one goes in or out, and not once does she catch sight of him. As far as first days go this is undoubtedly the worst she has ever experienced. As tempting as it is to just bail and head home, she desperately needs the cash, so she watches the hours slowly tick by on the off chance her stand-offish boss may suddenly decide he needs something. By the time 6pm rolls around, and she stands to gather her things, her legs have cramped from sitting for so long and she curses herself for only stretching her legs on the few occasions she went to the bathroom.

Arriving home, she finds her flatmate isn’t back yet and breathes a sigh of relief, knowing she’d be bombarded with questions about her first day and not have a positive answer for any of them. She uses the opportunity to pace the flat, rifling through the contact sheet and paperwork she has been given. She sighs when she happens upon the number listed for Aemond - what was the point of having the number of someone who seemingly wanted nothing to do with her? She saves it to her phone anyway, tomorrow was a new day after all. Perhaps she’ll score a few brownie points if she texts and offers to grab him coffee on her way to the office. She still can’t figure out why he’d been so cold towards her. Flopping down on the couch with a glass of wine, she boots up her laptop, deciding to do some research on Aemond Targaryen, as she realises that beyond meeting him today and knowing he works for one of the most prestigious law firms in all of Westeros, she really knows nothing about the man she is supposed to be working for.

She wakes up early the next morning, armed with a plan. Her evening of wine-fuelled research had been fruitful. She’d discovered that Aemond was from a family of famous Valyrian legal, political and business figures. Her recognition of the logo on Otto’s card was because it was regularly splashed across all of the major tabloid and broadsheet newspapers. She’d read through a few old articles regarding family drama, disputes over assets, and the death of his father to get an idea of who he was, before deciding his cold demeanour is likely attributed to the combined stress of his job and seemingly endless rifts between his mother and half-sister. She decides that if she is to break down his walls then she will do so with kindness, but she also wants to look the part - if she is to fit in with such sophisticated people then she needs to start dressing like one. She slips into a pencil skirt so fitted it looks like it has been painted on, alongside a sheer white blouse and a killer pair of black stilettos. She completes the look with perfectly styled hair and a thick coat of blood red lipstick. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t vying for more than Aemond’s professional attention, but she’d try anything at this point just to get him to acknowledge her presence. Giving herself a last once over look in the mirror, she fires off what she considers to be a breezy good morning text to Aemond, before heading to the coffee shop she used to work at. “Good morning Mr. Targaryen! Hope you’re well today. I’ll grab you a coffee on my way to the office. See you soon!”

Arriving exactly thirty minutes later, coffees in hand, she is disappointed to see that she’s been left on read. Nevermind. She has gone all out with the coffee order, asking for the special roast of beans with an extra shot and foamed milk. This was sure to win him over. She knocks timidly at his office door and after a long moment is about to knock again when it swings slowly open with a perfectly poised Aemond on the other side. God, he was breathtaking.

She realises she has gone too long without saying anything when he snaps out an impatient “Yes?” She jumps slightly, stepping forward into his office without an invitation. Aemond cautiously backs away, his brow furrowing with suspicion and confusion.

She thrusts one of the cups towards him, “Umm…I text you. Did you - uh - coffee?” Great, now I’ve lost the fucking power of speech.

Aemond gingerly accepts the cup from her, without saying thank you. “Are you always this articulate?” He says flatly, before taking a sip. His nose instantly wrinkles, “Ugh, does this have milk in it? I’m allergic to dairy."

Her eyes widen in horror, "Oh gods,, I’m so sorry! I should have thought to ask, I can always get you-"

"Forget it.” He cuts her off, “That will be all for the day, before you try to poison me any further. Close the door on your way out.”

Fantastic, another day sat at my desk, except this time I’m dressed like a cheap escort.

The confidence she’d felt when she stepped out of the door this morning had been crushed flat by Aemond in a matter of seconds. She sits with her hands clasped tightly in front of her on the desk, willing her unshed tears away. Did he want her to quit? She’d placed everything on this job and she didn’t want to give it up without a fight. Sje simply couldn’t understand why Aemond seemed to hate her so much.

After a few hours pass by, she notices it is lunch time - he has to take a break some time. She decides that now is when she’ll make her move. Standing purposefully, she sniffs back her tears and checks her make-up in her compact mirror, before strutting back towards Aemond’s door. She’ll give that arsehole a piece of her mind. It was about time he learned to respect her.

She bursts into Aemond’s office without knocking. “Just who in the hell do you think you are?!” she rants, not waiting for his reaction to her sudden intrusion.

He looks up from the documents he has been reading and stares at her, but his expression is unreadable.

He stays silent, so she continues her tirade. “I didn’t have a fucking clue who you were when I accepted this job, despite that I’ve treated you with nothing but respect and you can’t even extend me the same courtesy!” She paces as she yells at him, gesticulating wildly. There’s a part of her telling her to stop, that this behaviour will likely get her fired, but at this point it would have been like attempting to put toothpaste back in the tube. “I know you think you’re hot shit, but that doesn’t exempt you from behaving like a decent human being.” She stops and looks at him then, his face still a mask of neutrality as he gazes up at her from his seat at the desk. “Why aren’t you saying anything?!” She demands.

“Oh, are you done?” He replies sarcastically.

She throws her hands up in exasperation, eliciting a huge sigh at his complete lack of emotion.

Accepting her reaction as affirmation, he diverts his attention back to his paperwork and mutters “Well, if that’s all, you know where the door is.”

It takes all of her willpower not to grab the nearest object and launch it towards his head. She storms outside, slamming the door as she goes. Fuck this. Walking purposefully straight to the elevator, she lets it take her to the ground floor before hastily exiting the office building. There was absolutely no way she was spending another second in this godforsaken building.

Arriving home she throws her keys a little too aggressively onto the kitchen counter and heads straight towards the fridge, grabbing for the can of whipped cream. As she loudly squirts an unhealthy sized swirl of it into her mouth, her flatmate, Rhea, looks up from her laptop with an amused smile and asks “Rough morning?”

She hadn’t noticed her sitting at the dining table, too engrossed in her own foul mood to have any awareness of her surroundings. “Think I lost my job.” She slurs without bothering to swallow.

Rhea closes the lid of her laptop and rushes to pull her into a bear hug. Finally releasing her, she smiles kindly and wipes cream from her chin, before saying “First of all, you’re gross, and second, how has that happened? You’ve been there less than 48 hours!”

“It’s a long story.” She sighs, “The short version is that my boss is an arsehole, so I yelled at him and then left the office.”

“Oh.” Rhea winces, “That’s bad.”

“What the fuck am I going to do?!” She whines, rubbing her temples.

“Well, it might not solve your impending unemployment, but we could go out tonight?”

“Are you high right now, Rhea?! The only thing I’ll be doing tonight is looking at the classifieds!”

“Come on, you were miserable for so long in your last job and don’t seem to be faring much better in this one. You deserve a little fun!”

“I dunno…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer! I’m working from home today, so having a reason to leave the flat later will keep me sane. Plus you don’t even need to get changed - you are wearing that outfit!”

“Fine. I guess one drink couldn’t hurt.”

Rhea squeals with excitement, clapping her hands. “Amazing! Now be a doll and fuck off until 7pm, I have to concentrate.”

Rhea returns to her laptop while she retreats to her room, wondering if there will ever be a point this week where she isn’t being told to go away by someone.

The bar they end up at later that evening is loud and overcrowded. Despite that, she can feel herself relaxing. Perhaps it was the second white wine she was sipping or the steady beat of the music causing her to sway your hips involuntarily, but for the first time in two days she wasn't thinking about Aemond. She sighs contentedly, draining her glass and flashing Rhea a toothy grin as she pushes through the crowd with their next round of drinks.

“Having fun?” Rhea half shouts over the cacophony of noise.

Nodding, she grabs her hand, dragging her towards the dance floor. She chugs her drink as they both move to the rhythm of the song playing. She feels woozy and attributes it to drinking too much wine too fast.

“You want water?” She shouts to Rhea, making a drinking motion with her hand. Rhea nods gratefully and she staggers her way to the bar. She can feel her vision shifting in and out of focus and getting her legs to work the way she wants them to is proving difficult. Changing course, she heads outside, deciding a few lungfuls of fresh air will help set her straight.

As she slides down the brick exterior of the building she barely notices the dark figure that has followed her outside. “Easy.” A gruff male voice says, though in her mind it sounds far away, “Just relax.” Rough hands paw at her as her head flops around on a neck that feels boneless.

“Get the fuck off her.” She hears a familiar voice snarl demandingly. The man is gone in a flash and replaced instead by someone crouching in front of her, cupping her cheeks and coaxing her to look up into a concerned blue eye.

“Aemond?” She slurs.

“Keep looking at me.” Aemond says, cradling her head, “I’m fairly certain that that prick spiked your drink. I’m going to make sure you get home safely, but you need to stay awake, okay?”

Her eyes are glassy and Aemond blurs and duplicates in her vision as he keeps her face tilted up towards him. “Rhea.” She mumbles groggily.

As if summoned by the utterance of her name, her room mate pushes her way out of the bar, phone in hand, looking left and right. When she finally catches sight of her slumped on the ground with a man crouching over her, she shrieks and runs towards her. “What are you doing to her?!”

“Helping her.” Aemond replies flatly, without looking away from her. “Pretty sure she’s been spiked.”

“Jesus!” Rhea squeals, kneeling at her side, before finally looking over at Aemond. “Holy shit! You’re Aemond Targaryen! Your uncle is so hot!”

Aemond rolls his eye, hooking his arms around the body of the semi-conscious woman in front of him and slowly lifting her to her feet.

“Should we call the police?” Rhea asks, slowly realising the gravity of the situation.

Aemond turns to stare at her. “It will take an hour for them to get here.” He explains. “And when they do they’ll just file a report which they’ll never follow up on. Our time is better spent getting her home, so she’s at least safe. I’m assuming you know where she lives?”

Rhea nods. “We’re flatmates.”

Aemond momentarily supports her weight with a single arm as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and passes it to Rhea. “Order an Uber”.

“Thanks for helping her.” Rhea says, as the Uber finally pulls up to the curb. They waited in total silence and any excitement Rhea had felt at having met Aemond was rapidly dissipating into awkward discomfort. “I can look after her from here.” She moves to take her from the supporting hold he has on her.

“Because you’ve done such an incredible job of that so far.” He retorts icily. “I’m coming with you.”

He maneuveres her limp form into the back of the car as Rhea makes her way around to the other side to sit next to her. She is surprised to see Aemond fold his tall frame into the backseat beside her, fully expecting him to ride shotgun. The drive back is tense and uncomfortable. She sits unconscious, sandwiched between the two of them, her heading lolling against Aemond’s shoulder.

“So…” Rhea begins, attempting to break the silence, “You’re the arsehole boss then?”

It was intended as a joke, but Aemond’s humourless chuckle instantly makes her cheeks burn at having said something so rude. “Is it true you’re going to fire her?”

Aemond seems surprised at that. “No,” He says simply. “I won’t expect to see her in the office tomorrow, she’ll need a day to recover, but tell her to be there at 9am sharp on Thursday. And I take my coffee black.”

“Sure.” Rhea smiles meekly. By this point, the Uber has pulled up to its destination. “Would you like to uh…?” She asks, gesturing towards the block of flats.

“No, I think you’ll be fine from here.” He responds, “Goodnight.”

With that, Rhea is left to help her out of the car, which pulls away as soon as she's closed the door.

The next day she awakens with no memory of the evening before, feeling like she has the mother of all hangovers. She swears loudly as she looks at the time and realises it’s almost midday. If she wasn’t fired before, she certainly was now.

Hearing she is awake, Rhea sweeps into the room with a tall glass of water for her. She fills her in on the details of the previous evening and she listens in stunned silence. She spends the rest of the day in bed, struggling to process what has happened to her and the fact that a man she’d assumed hated her had come so valiantly to her rescue.

Thursday morning rolls around quickly and she dresses simply in black trousers and a sensible cardigan. She heads to grab Aemond his morning coffee; black coffee. No sooner had she deposited the cup into his hand had apologies begun tumbling from her lips, saying sorry for how she’d spoken to him, sorry for storming off, sorry for him having to look after her. He cuts her off, sliding a sheet of paper towards her.

“This,” He begins, “Is a list of things I need you to do for me today. Think you can handle it?”

She nods, stunned at finally being asked to help him out.

“Perfect. See you later.”

The day passes in a blur and she struggles. This is the first day she’s actually performing the job she has been hired to do and the busy, demanding nature of a prestigious law firm was worlds apart from the past two days of sitting at her desk and sulking. She gets lost trying to deliver documents to various people’s offices, forgets to seal contracts in confidential envelopes and accidentally hangs up on no less than five clients while trying to transfer their calls. It is a complete disaster.

She sits, highlighting every instance of the word “Harrenhal” in a document, feeling totally overwhelmed. How could anyone manage to be so bad at a relatively simple job?! The truth was, she kept finding herself distracted, thinking about what had happened to her two nights ago. What would have happened if Aemond hadn’t shown up? She caps the highlighter pen, resting her head in her hands and fails to suppress a sob.

Hearing his office door open, she turns to face Aemond as he exits, attempting to compose herself, but knows he has likely already seen her crying. “Sorry.” She whispers. “I’m just having a bad day. Ignore me.” She sniffles and wipes her eyes.

Silently Aemond beckons her into his office, maintaining eye contact as he does so.

She follows obediently, dread gnawing at her insides, certain he’s going to fire her.

“Kneel.” He quietly commands, once the door is closed behind them.

“What?!” Her eyes widen in shock.

“Trust me, you need this. Kneel.” He insists.

She does as she is told, kneeling before him, gazing up at his impossibly tall frame with curiosity.

He slowly reaches out a hand, fingers gently grazing her jawline, before running a thumb over her lips. He pushes gently, parting them and meeting the resistance of her teeth. “Open”.

This time she doesn’t question his request, silently accepting the alien intrusion of Aemond’s thumb into her mouth. Instinctively she feels herself sucking on the digit and gradually relaxes. The sensation sends a throb of arousal straight to her core. She’d never experienced anything like this before, but seeing him tower over her, offering his thumb for her to suck was strangely erotic.

“Better?” He asks.

She simply nods, doe-eyed and staring at him in awe.

“Good.” He smiles slightly, stooping down until his lips are ghosting the shell of her ear. It makes her shiver. “I much preferred Tuesday’s outfit, by the way. Maybe that can make a reappearance tomorrow?”

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 11 months

Text

this is halloween || I.N. x reader

Summary: Working in a bar on Halloween sucks. What doesn't suck is your coworker Jeongin being shirtless in the name of it being a sexy costume (unless your boss made him do it, in which case you're prepared to murder him).

Word count: 3.7k

Genres: friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers

Warnings & Tags: mostly fluff, slightly heavy make-out session, mentions of customers being inappropriate with Jeongin.

A/N: hiiiii, welcome back on my blog! I hope everyone's doing good ^-^ I've written four small one-shots for Stray Kids' maknae line for Halloween (and the plan for now is to write four small one shots for the hyung line for Christmas/New Year's). Here is the first one, and I hope you'll enjoy them!

Seungmin · Felix

Working on Halloween night was rarely, if ever, a good experience, if you were in the service industry. You didn’t remember enjoying it even once since you’d started working, taking jobs wherever and whenever you could. It was easy to get hired for Halloween, and on crazy nights like that, tips always flowed in, but it was made barely worth it by the insanity you’d have to endure. The crowds, the noise, even the drunken people, all that, you could handle, but Halloween seemed to bring out the worst in people — or the worse of people, you couldn’t say for sure.

For fuck’s sake, a guy thinking he was a vampire had bitten you one time.

You couldn’t say you’d been surprised when the bar you’d been working at for close to a year had informed the employees that they were expected to wear costumes for the night. Up all night was always somewhat gothic-themed, after all. Plus, they weren’t asking for much. You’d merely been given a red headband with little demon horns on it and a note urging you to ‘dress sexy’. It had made you roll your eyes, and you had decided to only half humor the direction. After all, you’d be standing behind the bar for the night and you didn’t see a point in making too much of an effort.

When you’d gotten there, you had immediately known that had been the right decision. There were much bigger fishes to fry than your outfit, and neither your colleagues nor the manager paid you much attention. You were kept busy from the moment you set foot in the building to the opening, with not a minute to yourself. You only remembered to put the headband on as the very first clients stepped in through the doors.

After that, it was just an endless stream of people trying to get your attention and something to drink.

It was around midnight when you took your break.

Fifteen minutes, that was all you’d get — it meant both nothing and the world to you.

It’s as you’re sitting outside, quietly sipping on coffee that you need both to keep yourself sharp and to warm yourself up on this cold October night, that you’re joined by Jeongin.

You like Jeongin. A few years younger than you, he also joined a couple of months after you did. He’s sweet, hardworking, creative, and, as you find out tonight, has abs for days.

“What are you wearing,” is what comes out of your mouth when he walks towards you, even though your question should be ‘what are you not wearing’.

Jeongin glances down at his body like he forgot, then lets out a sigh as he, too, realizes that he’s very much shirtless — save for the suspenders that half cover dark nipples. You… take him in a little longer than you’d be comfortable admitting. Your eyes go from his large shoulders to the rock hard pectorals, to the well-defined abs that inevitably lead to the happy trail that disappears into his pants. Suddenly, you’re strongly aware of how close in age you are to him, even though you like to joke about how he needs to be taken care of.

He lets himself fall down next to you and the pout he gives you allows you to at least try to cling to that illusion a while longer.

“They asked me to,” he says. “Told me I’d be a sexy demon.”

Immediately, your spider-sense starts tingling. If there’s one thing you won’t sit for in silence, it’s one of your friends and fellow employee getting taken advantage of.

“Wait, did they force you?” you ask, brow suddenly furrowing. “Did they— insist or say something about your job? Because unless we signed very different contracts, I doubt that was in the job description.”

Jeongin’s eyes go wide.

He’s pretty. Shit, he’s really pretty, and he’s sitting so close to you that you can feel his body heat. It’s cold outside, but it was ridiculously hot in the bar, as is made obvious by the discreet sheen of sweat on his body.

“No, they, uh, they didn’t do that,” he says, sounding very sheepish now. “They just— asked.”

You click your tongue. They’d have to have known that he wouldn’t know better.

“I’ll talk to them. You shouldn’t have to dress in a way that makes you uncomfortable.” You gesture at yourself. “See, I’m wearing the stupid headband, but I’m not going to go out of my way unless they start paying me a lot better.”

Jeongin’s eyes follow the movement of your hand, and you feel very naked under his gaze as he takes in your body. Hm, you kinda wish you’d bothered to dress at least just a teensy bit sexier now. Then he looks at you again. Swallows.

“I think you look good,” he says. Then he smiles, and it’s such a sweet sight, cute dimples forming in his cheeks. Takes your breath away for sure. If it sounded more suggestive, you might be led to thinking that he’s flirting with you. It just seems genuine right now, though. Plus, now that you’re looking at him, you’re pretty sure he’s got at least three phone numbers written on his arms. The thought makes you wrinkle your nose in distaste. People tend to forget boundaries, when they’re wasted.

“I really need to get a word with Jin-Young,” you mumble through your teeth. A glance at your watch; your break is almost over and you don’t want to fuck your coworkers over, so you push yourself to your feet. You pat Jeongin’s shoulder, stopping yourself from lingering to feel the muscles under your fingers. Last thing he needs is yet another person disregarding his personal space. “You can throw something on, I’ll take care of it.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again.

“Oh, uh, it’s fine, you don’t have to do that—”

For a second, you hesitate.

“You don’t mind? Has no one been… gross?”

You openly eye the phone numbers, and Jeongin glances down like he’s seeing them for the first time.

“People are just having fun.” He shrugs, but avoids your eyes.

If the blind, white-hot rage that goes through you at his reaction is any indication of the conversation that’s going to unfold real soon, you might very well lose your job tonight.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you tell him. Again, he says something about how you ‘don’t have to’, but this time you ignore him.

Jin-Young’s in his office, hiding behind mountains of paperwork and muttering numbers to himself as he’s making sense of the receipts that he’s lined up in front of him. The thin pieces of papers jump when you slam your hands on the desk.

“What did you tell Jeongin about his costume?”

After first looking at the papers in complete disarray, like he thinks they moved out of their own volition, he slowly raises his towards you. You’d have sympathy for how lost he looks — Halloween’s hard on everyone in the industry, like you mentioned — if you weren’t so pissed right now.

“To dress sexy,” he says after some long seconds. “Like everyone else. Why? Did he not put any effort into it? Are you jealous about that?”

While you are vaguely flattered that people appear to think you look sexy in your bare minimum effort, that is not the matter at hand right now.

“He’s shirtless,” you say. “Who told him he needed to be shirtless?”

Finally, some light appears in the man’s eyes.

“Aah, that’s right! He asked what I meant by sexy, and that was one of the examples.”

“You pushed him to it,” you say through gritted teeth.

The accusation doesn’t faze Jin-Young whatsoever.

“I didn’t have to. He seemed quite excited about it, if you want my opinion.”

You don’t, typically, but that does throw you off.

“He seemed quite uncomfortable with it,” you say slowly, but it sounds more hesitant now. Jin-Young’s many things, and one of these things is a terrible liar.

“Well, what did you tell him?”

Wait a minute, is this your fault now?

“Nothing! Just asked what he was, you know, wearing. It— it caught me off guard.”

Jin-Young raises an eyebrow at you, and you defensively fold your arms over your chest.

“You know,” he says, trying to be coy and failing miserably as he leans over his desk, “I wonder why he liked the idea of doing it shirtless. It’s not like he doesn’t get attention when he’s dressed normally. Hm, it’s such a mystery. I guess we’ll never know.”

“Are you implying that it was because of me?” You can’t keep the skepticism out of your voice for the life of you.

“Oh, I wonder. Am I now?”

One thing you’re not going to do is talk about your love life with your boss, so you roll your eyes at him — he won’t fire you until the next day, and even that he’s unlikely to do — and walk out, saying something about needing to get back to work, which isn’t wrong.

In going back to the bar, you run face first into Jeongin’s smooth, hard chest, which is truly the cherry on top of everything that just happened. Strong hands grab onto your arms, stopping you from stumbling back, and concerned eyes plunge into yours, so deep you could drown in them.

“Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Great. You’re doing great.

“I’m fine,” you reply, squeakier than you’d like, “just need to get back to work.”

“What did Jin-Young say?”

That gives you a second of pause. You can’t just ask him flat-out in the middle of a shift on one of the busiest nights of the year if he likes you or not. You’re not wired that way.

“That he doesn’t see any issue if you’re not uncomfortable,” you answer instead of telling the truth.

Jeongin’s shoulders seem to relax, but the corners of his mouth turn down.

“Sorry, I really have to run,” you mumble, stepping out of his grasp. “If I don’t, Jihyo’s going to get crushed under all the customers. But I’ll— see you after my shift, okay?”

A spark of interest lights back up in his eyes. It’s quite silly, how happy and relieved it makes you all of a sudden. If, somehow, Jin-Young is right, and infuriatingly he often is, you’d hate to think that it was your comment that upset him. Which is why you allow yourself to tell him “Plus, it does look great on you”.

You do, then, turn on your heels and walk away like a coward before his jaw has even finished dropping.

The rest of the night is a blur, much like the first part. You do remember Jihyo glaring at you when you finally come back — you deserved that — and your legs and splitting headache very much remember that the customers did not let up once, but you don’t think you could give a single order you took that night.

Well, that’s a lie. You served far, far too many Bloody Maries, to the point where you ran out of tomato juice.

Still, your mind had mostly been trying to make sense of the various complicated thoughts that were swirling in your head all night. You had never allowed yourself to linger on the thought of Jeongin for too long. Of course you liked him, there was nothing to dislike about him. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t had moments.

New year’s day, the year before, when you’d known him for less than a week and he’d blushed terribly, refusing to meet your eyes, when the two of you found yourself under the mistletoe. Valentine’s Day, when you had covered for him as he was helping one of his friends who was in a crisis with his girlfriend at the time, and he’d gotten you roses the next day as a thank you. They’d come at a discount because it was the day after, he’d promised you.

Then, for your birthday, him and a few of your other colleagues had gotten you a cute necklace that he had told you, very smugly, that he’d picked out himself. He had an eye for these things, because as he tied it around your neck for you, you’d just fallen in love with it. He hadn’t been there for most of the summer though, and you had mostly written off the whole thing. The two of you didn’t see each other outside of work, and sometimes you lost touch with people, when you were a broke college student too busy trying to make ends meet to go out.

He’d come back in September, though, all tan and glowing and, okay, maybe your heart had given a little jump in your chest, but so what? Yes, Jeongin was hot. Big news. Maybe seeing him after two months meant that you weren’t that used to it anymore and that was why it got to you. But the tan had vanished as autumn set in more firmly, and your heart still insisted on doing that silly little thing sometimes when you laid eyes on him, or when he approached the bar with that wide, dimply smile of his.

It’s doing it tonight, as traitorous as ever, when you catch a glimpse of him in the very full room, still completely shirtless. Watching him isn’t helping with your conundrum though. You don’t have time to do it either way, but there are constantly women flirting with him, their whole body leaning towards him, and while you don’t blame them, not for a second, you can’t see what he’d have seen in you when he so clearly has his pick among all of them.

You’re not— you don’t lack confidence in yourself. You get hit on while on the job often enough that there’s no risk of that happening. You just haven’t had that much luck in the heart department. A guy like Jeongin, who’s hot, yes, but is even more importantly such a sweetheart, that’s… kind of unheard of, for you. Then, even if you do accept this premise, which you do very much question, for the record, there’s the fact that you work together, and if things go south, it could mean you would have to quit. You’ve been there before.

That’s if Jeongin even likes you. Jin-Young could have been wrong. You could be neck deep in delusion right now. You could be setting yourself up for the most crushing development of your life, because the more you’re allowing to think about it, the more your heart soars, and the less you can hide the ugly truth of your ridiculous crush on him.

Ugh. You’re going to kill your boss — that’s the most logical way out of this situation.

When you take your leave at 4 am, the bar is still bustling with life. It’ll be open all night, closing shortly before reopening at noon, but that is someone else’s problem. At least you can thank the past you for wearing flats despite the whole ‘dress sexy’ thing, because you’d be dead by now.

Jeongin’s putting a shirt on when you walk into the changing room, something that you find tragic but that’s probably for the best if you’re hoping to have a productive conversation.

“Got more numbers?” you ask, noting the doodling on his arms.

“I had to confiscate some people’s markers,” is what he sighs in reply.

“Maybe I should have gone harder on Jin-Young,” you mumble, anger filling you again at the thought. “But he said it was your idea to wear that, uh, costume, so I didn’t want to interfere, you know?”

Jeongin’s eyes turn into disks and it’s only then that you find yourself giving some credibility to what Jin-Young told you. Find yourself thinking that maybe, maybe?

“He… gave me the idea,” he says, slowly, eyes darting from the floor to the ceiling lights to the door on the other side of the room like he’s going to make a run for it.

“But among others, right?”

You’re doing everything you can to keep your tone light, turning your back towards him as you get your stuff from the locker, hoping that it makes your question sound casual and not like you’re fishing for information. Gosh, now you understand why kids slide across these little ‘do you like me? yes/no’ notes. This feels so silly. You’re a grown-up, you shouldn’t be dancing around the subject like that.

“Yes but that one was… Uh… Really low-effort.”

Right.

“He made it sound like he thought you were wearing it for someone in particular,” you say like you’d comment on the weather as you finish collecting yourself and turn to face him.

He’s still sitting there, frozen like a deer in headlights, eyes wide as saucers, staring, pleading for help. Your heart’s hammering in your chest. One of you is going to have to take the first step, and it’s the vulnerability of that step that terrifies you. You could have gotten it wrong. He could just be scared that you uncovered his crush on Jihyo, or Jeongyeon, or even on Changbin, for all you know.

Still, you’ll take the plunge. You glance at your nails like they’re a fascinating sight.

“I know I told you already, but I thought you looked great.”

He lowers his gaze immediately. It’s still not quick enough to stop you from seeing the wide grin that forms on his lips.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. It’s all… unhelpful. Could mean anything, and you’re all out of courage now. Then he looks up at you through black locks of hair, and you have to strain to hear what he says. “He was right.”

You blink.

“Who was?”

“I did wear it for you. Jin-Young told you, right?”

Regaining the control of your jaw after he just dropped that on you is way harder than it seems.

“Uh, yeah, yeah he did, what—”

“He just can’t keep his mouth shut.” Jeongin clicks his tongue as he gets up from the bench he was on, grabbing his bag as he does so. “But don’t worry about it, I won’t bother you.”

What?

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” he grimaces, looking away once more. “It’s fine if you weren’t, um, into it.”

“No, I— I just told you.” Your mind flashes back to your first exclamation, and you’re not sure how to take it back or explain exactly what was on your mind without stuttering and making a fool out of yourself, again. “It caught me off-guard,” you explain slowly. “But I was very into it.”

Jeongin’s eyes are still wide, but they’re not filled with fear or surprise anymore. He takes a step towards you as you lean against your locker. You pray high and low that this is going where you think it’s going. As he gets closer and the air grows thicker between you, he seems to be searching for something in your expression that would tell him that he’s gotten the wrong idea, that he should step back. He still hasn’t found it by the time his body brushes against yours, and so he takes the next logical step.

His eyes close as he leans towards you, and you’re smiling when his lips meet yours. He kisses you slow and delicate, intent on savoring every second of it. One of his hands gently lifts your chin to get better access to you, the other coming down to grab your waist, and you arch yourself into him without thinking. The moment’s soft and sweet.

Then he gets even closer, and you wrap your arms around his neck, entangling one of your hands in his hair, and it turns a little less sweet. He goes from carefully tasting you to devouring you, pulling away from you briefly catch his breath before diving back in, his hips pushing you against the locker. Shamelessly, you allow one of your hands to come down to feel the muscles of his chest. He grins at that, nipping playfully at your lower lip, but that doesn’t mean you miss the shiver that runs through him then.

He grabs your hand before you get any lower though, and takes ahold of the other one before you can try anything else on that front, and easily pins them both over your head with just one of his. Then he keeps kissing you, long fingers running over your body oh so sinfully, without ever lingering too long. He takes his sweet time exploring you, and it’s only after a particularly suggestive movement of your hips that tears a moan from his lips, that he lets go of you, stepping away with a crimson blush marring his cheekbones.

“Sorry, I, uh, I might have gotten a little carried away.”

There he goes, not meeting your eyes, again, even after he just kissed the hell out of you.

“I was very into it too,” you hear yourself replying, and he chokes at that. You can’t help the brief laughter that spills from your lips. Cute.

“S-so, just so we’re clear, I’m not— I’d love to take you out. On a date.” He’s back again with the pleading look. “It’s not— it’s not just a physical thing.”

“That’s good,” you smile, leaning towards him in a suggestive manner. It’s just too easy to tease him. “I’d really like it if you took me out on a date.”

He frowns.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t ever be able to do my job again and I’ll get fired.”

Again, you laugh. It just comes easy to you when you’re with Jeongin.

“Let’s see if you don’t get tired of me after one date before we start talking about you getting fired, hm?”

“That’s not going to happen,” he says, sounding far more confident than he has about anything else he’s said that whole evening, and wouldn’t you know it, there are butterfly swimming in your stomach now.

“How do you know?”

He leans in for another kiss.

“I just do.”

this might not make much sense and i'm sorry if it doesn't but i was just so happy to be writing again after such a long time :)))

i hope you all liked it and feedback in any form is always greatly appreciated!

permanent taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

#jeongin x reader #in x reader #yang jeongin x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #jeongin imagine #jeongin fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #candywrites

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

Am I the Asshole for reporting my coworker a second time? (TW// Sexual Harassment, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Self Harm)

(🍫💵 so I can find it later.)

I work a job where I (22 F/NB) am a cashier at a local supermarket. I have a few coworkers close to my age, but most are either in their late thirties/early fourties' or are kids who go to the local high schools in the area.

Around the beginning of this year, we'll call him Abe (17~ M) attempted to ask out my coworker who we'll call May (16~ F). They'd hang out semi-regularly along with the other kids still in high school, and while they never caused trouble, they did tend to goof off and joke around a lot.

May refused him, saying she wasn't interested. For WHATEVER reason, he did not accept this rejection and continued to ask. This was an issue, as not only is it sexual harassment, but Abe is a cart-pusher and May is a cashier. He was already a pretty lazy employee (management was always upset at him because he'd get caught playing on his phone instead of working), but now he'd purposefully go through her lane at the supermarket just to ask her out repeatedly and beg to be with her. Every time he found her alone, he'd go right up to her and keep pestering her about it. She felt so uncomfortable and unsafe about it that she told our team lead, who agreed to stay by her side. This was spread to our management, who make sure she isn't alone so that he can't corner her about going out with her.

I have witnessed him doing it many times, enough that I reported it to HR when May refused to do it herself. They told me to get her into contact with them and report it to them, and finally I convinced her to do it.

There was a sort of peace period after that, where they weren't scheduled at the same time. But recently he's taken it a step further and has decided to come in on ANY day she is scheduled (even if he isn't) to keep trying to ask her out. Most of the cashiers are aware of the situation and got upset with him. One of the few who is around my age (and recently pregnant) even cussed his ears off for harassing her so much because it didn't look like management was doing anything. Abe declared that the pregnant coworker broke his heart, and now his behavior had gotten WORSE.

Abe would look at those who he'd "hang out" with at work and either try to guilt them into helping him win over May's heart, complain about her not living him, and talk about how "white people suck"/"white people are so shitty" despite BEING white (to my knowledge, please don't go after me in the notes about this) himself. He'd also stalk her work bestie around and trash-talked the pregnant co-worker, all while NOT DOING HIS JOB, by the way.

One of the habits he has picked up however is miming actions to his fellow minors. The one I heard him use mostly was of him pretending to shoot himself in the head.

But one day I was working as the customer service rep for the night (no one else could do it), and I gave him a polite nod when he walked past. He smiled at me and then mimed cutting himself.

This was not something I had heard of him doing before, but when I talked to my coworkers they said "yeah he was doing this too".

In the moment I had given him a very firm No, because it was not work appropriate. Abe insisted, and pretended to cut his wrists again.

I'm on anon so none of you know me, but I used to severely struggle with suicide and self harm from a young age. However I have gotten better since becoming an adult and have made MASSIVELY impressive strides to a happier life. From this, I understand joking about suicide, because if you joke about it with someone you are not only in a safe place to bring it up BUT are coming around to the idea of telling people that you need help.

Joking about self harm, however? I've never heard of it. It's an entirely different ball park. You don't joke about those things.

In the moment, I was in disbelief, and I felt sick. I even started mentally shutting down, to the point where I couldn't even do my usual tasks properly without being specifically told to start them. Everyone noticed. I even cried once I was in my car while my sister was picking me up and safe, because I was trying so fucking hard not to think about that time in my life when I had moved myself so far past it.

Right at the beginning of shutting down, I did tell a manager. I told the manager who worked the next day as well, just so that I'd be SURE something happened about it. Abe visited that day on his day off because May was working again, and I panicked so much at seeing him that I hid behind customer service until one of my work friends told me he had left- instead of staying at May's side like I usually would. (I put my mental health first- it was a tough lesson that I managed to learn last year to the point that I do it in my day-to-day. She wasn't left alone with him though, don't worry.)

It genuinely sickened me that he has been miming cutting himself to other minors, when I know that if I had been May's age and had seen that amidst recovery, I would have spiraled and started all over again. Abe's lucky none of them are like that (at least openly) and that I was uniquely affected whereas the others were just "creeped out".

I ended up reporting his actions towards me about a week after I convinced May to personally report his harassment, and then I found out that the first manager I talked to (who has a soft spot for him, he does use this to his advantage to get out of trouble at work) asked him what was wrong and his response was "I'm having a bad day".

Considering that he does this every day he comes into work, whether he's actually working or not, on top of everything else (and how it effected me)- I am very hurt and genuinely hate him after all of this when I hadn't hated him before (despite the fact that I have only hated 2 people in my life before that point). However, I don't know if he was joking about how bad he feels about the fact that she does not want him at all or if he's genuinely hurting himself, and I feel sick at the thought of my actions if it's the second scenario.

Even if he's sexually harassing my coworker, no one should ever feel like they deserve to be hurt or that they don't deserve life. That's what I believe. And I'm worried that, should Abe find out I reported him twice over this, that he'll yell at me and say that I'm an asshole for doing that (and I know it would happen, because that was his response with my pregnant coworker). I know I'm doing the right thing by reporting the continuous harassment, but my heart is genuinely conflicted now. He needs to stop, but what if my actions are causing this response? I could never live with myself knowing that I was the reason someone hurt themselves. My anxiety won't let it rest.

And so, Tumblr, I must know...

Am I the Asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #self harm cw #suicide cw

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mostly-mundane-atla · 9 months

Text

Something i've been meaning to tell people from my experience working at a grocery store deli with disgustingly low health and safety standards and yeah this is probably a main blog kinda post but i'll reach more people if i post it here.

If you intend to order from a grocery store deli, try to go on a slow day. Right after the christian holidays is usually a good choice because people are trying to use up leftovers.

Wear a mask. This is non-negotiable. The pandemic didn't go anywhere and has silently gotten worse because the people incharge care more about numbers on bank accounts than human safety and lives. Do not be part of the problem. Wear a fucking mask.

If you feel like you need a reason to ask food workers to follow basic hygiene policy, you can say you live with someone who has an autoimmune disorder. No one is going to check you on this and that little nudge can help them realize they've been being careless.

Try to be concerned for them when you ask about things like if they've had a chance to wash hands and change gloves. They're under pressure from both customers and management to take as little time as possible and that shouldn't mean disregared health and safety policy but in that situation you don't get a lot of options.

On the flip side, if you request a tool or utensil be washed, because it's true that they can get dirty and make your order look unappetizing, it will take a bit. That is good! That means they're trying to get it done right! In a perfect world they'd have the chance to keep things as clean as they're supposed to be at all times but we don't live in that perfect world.

If you have a good customer service experience, try to let the people in charge know. Just hearing about that can do wonders for morale in as draining a work environment as customer facing food service.

I don't care how good the sale price is, do not demand the clerk shave six pounds of ham for you. That's a dick move to the extreme.

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coolcoolcoolbutwtf · 10 months

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Receptionist Danny working in the main Wayne lobby

First few days at the job site and Danny was already regretting getting this job.

Why?

Because this exact scenario had been repeated five times already just today. Not as persistent as THIS one though. God he is so tired of this bull. It got tiring after the third time now he's just tired and annoyed.

A bad combo considering Danny the "Town Menace Phantom" Fenton was beginning to lose the little patients he had left.

' just count down from ten like Jazz had taught me years ago'. Danny gave a sigh and kept repeating the mantra in his mind.

He has to stay strong he fought ghost for years! What is a few minutes worth of questions from a few eager journalist? He could handle Wes how could they be any worse?

Oh who was he kidding certainly not himself! Not after having suffered a day full of questions about shit he didn't know squat about.

This situation with this gender bent Wes was WORSE considering Danny couldn't just tell her to piss off. The others had just asked a few questions or had gotten turned down regarding questions. Not TO bad. He could handle it. He still kinda liked this job. Well, he likes the work benefits. It was the main reason he applied after all.

So give him some credit this was the sixth harpy "journalist" to come sniffing around after having gotten wind of a new employee in the main office. Though their sources must be bad. He was just a receptionist! Not the new head of the financing department or Bruce Wayne's new secretary, leave him alone!

He doesn't know what the company boss does??? Why ask him? How would lil' old receptionist Danny Fenton know!

Has he not suffered enough?? His suffering with this specific harpy had been going on for the past twenty five minutes.

"So, where does Bruce Wayne leave for during his meetings? A new woman? Man? Trouble in the family?"

Vicky Vale as she had introduced herself before had officially made Danny hear his last strained thread of patients fraying. He could only take so much before the menace in him gott done with this nonsense. Time for Ms Vale to go away, fuck off and not come back. Danny menace mode ON now.

Smiling the most customer service™ smile he could manage Danny responded in the flattest tone he was capable of.

"Well to fuck your mom of course, Ms Vale."

And of course at just the moment the older receptionist Ms Linda Smith that had been in charge of showing Danny the territory before retirement finally came back. With two coffee cups in her hands. She had taken off on her break the moment she spotted Ms Vale walking towards the front desk. She promised to grab him a coffee on her way back. Truly abandoning him to the wolves. Or wolf. She had bribed him and Danny hadn't even known what kind of suffering awaited him. Ms Linda had started speaking.

"Okay Danny no we don't---

Danny didn't know exactly what was up with the big boss and his family. Something was definitely up but he didn't think it was bad.

"And your dad, because we here at Wayne enterprises support the LBGTQIA community. Thank you and leave.

((((((((((((End )))))))))))) :)

Thank you for reading! I might do some more for this idea again. This is basically just the idea by @some-rotten-nest link below. I've had a similar idea about Danny being an evil assistant before. Not a receptionist though. It was fun writing this I keep thinking about all the interesting scenarios that could play out in this (Au?) Idea. Also I just wanted to test the waters. I've never written anything and actually posted it before. I hope this was okay. Um bye and have a good day oh am I kidding have a good night!

This idea is based on this https://www.tumblr.com/some-rotten-nest/725017913035276288/danny-fenton-a-new-receptionist-at-wayne by the amazing @some-rotten-nest ! I was just so inspired by it, all of my creative instincts were just itching to make something for this<3

>:D

#danny phantom #batman #writing #fanfic?#not my idea

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tumble-tv · 1 month

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I know I said that dumb posts are coming soon, but I need to rant, lol.

I can't move a pillow, A PILLOW, without excruciating pain in my hands and arms. I can't stand for more than a few seconds without feeling like I'm going to throw up because of the pain. I'm struggling to type this right now. My mobility is plummeting and I'm scared for what my future is going to be.

I'm 17.

I already know that I'm going to have to quit my job after this season. I've held this position for 4 years, the longest someone ever has, and I'm terrified to tell my coworker who works with me in the orchards that I can't come back. I'm terrified that they'll be mad or pressure me to come back or just be sad to see me go after all these years.

No doctors believe me when I say that I constantly feel like I'm being run over by a bus and burnt alive every waking second. They don't believe that there's a problem and I still don't know what's wrong with me. My own mother doesn't believe me, even when I'm army crawling around the house to get to the bathroom because my legs won't move.

I can hardly write my name. 13 letters. I can't do it. It hurts so much to even hold a pen for a few seconds to make a smily face.

My crutches hurt my wrists. My cane hurts my wrists. Pushing a wheelchair dislocates my shoulders and elbows and wrists. I don't have the money for a custom or power chair, let alone a house or apartment that's accessible for any chair. I don't have the money for new, nice crutches that could possibly help.

I have to give up ever being an EMT or paramedic. I have a physical on Thursday for my EMT work, and I know that by next year, I'll be useless in the service, so what's the point. I can barely walk to the bathroom, let alone carry someone twice my size from their bed to the stretcher.

I know I can't go to college. Not only because my dad spend my college funds on divorce papers, but because I know that all of my money is going to have to go into meds and medical care later on. I want to be a pediatric rheumatologist to get back at my horrible one and help some kids get the help they need, but I don't have the money or time to waste 8 years getting a doctorate that I'll never be able to pay off.

I had to give up my dream of being a ballet dancer when I was 12 because my body was already falling apart. It's only gotten worse, and that dream is so far away from me. I wanted to dance in a giant production of the nutcracker or even the Rockettes, but my body decided to ruin that, too.

Sorry for such a long rant, it's been a rough few weeks.

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rookie-lou · 5 months

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Imagine if Lightning never ended up in Radiator Springs. (Humanized)

He would have won the tie-breaker race but his attitude would have gotten worse and worse. At some point, he was so conceited and arrogant that even the good-natured Mack had enough. On the way from one race to the next Mack finally had enough when Lightning once again proves that fame is more important to him than anything else.

Mack turns off the highway and leaves Lightning in the middle of nowhere, on a forest path. He drives out of sight of Lightning, even though he never really lets him out of his sight. Lightning is angry and desperate and throws a tantrum. There he has no cell service and when he notices that Mack is not coming back he starts walking because he doesn't want to spend the night in the forest.

On the way a car stops - Smokey, who has just returned from a customer visit where he repaired their car. He feels sorry for Lightning even though the kid doesn't make any effort to be nice. Smokey takes Lightning to Thomasville and an hour later they arrive. (Mack follows at a distance)

Smokey takes Lightning to the nearest hotel and without hesitation or thanks, he sleeps there overnight.

He never found out that Mack showed up a short time later and spoke to Smokey to make sure that Lightning was in good hands. Mack has a good understanding of human nature and notices that Smokey is a good guy. Mack then drives to the next town to go on vacation but at the same time not to be too far away.

The next morning Lightning gets into trouble when he can't pay because he has no money with him. The explanation that he is famous doesn't bother the hotel manager in the slightest. The manager calls Smokey because he has brought the brat here. Smokey comes and pays with the deal that Lightning helps him in his workshop until it is paid off. Since Lightning was threatened by the manager with the police, he reluctantly accepts the offer.

Smokey no longer has any pity and makes Lightning work hard. (Sorting screws, chopping wood for him, repainting walls...) Lightning quickly realizes that Smokey doesn't care that Lightning is famous and slowly he starts to be less arrogant.

Lightning reminds Smokey of Doc and the kid grows on him somehow, just like Hud did back then. It's not mentioned how long Lightning has to work but after two days he starts to like it. Smokey shows him an old race car that he still has from back then and he teaches him to drift at Thomasville Speedway - just like he taught Doc. Lightning sees all the signs at the Speedway with Doc’s face and the topic comes up.

After he freaks out that Smokey was the crew chief of the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, they start to talk more about it. Smokey misses him and Lightning would like to meet him.

Later he meets the racing legends of Thomasville.

The last thing Smokey knows is that Doc has studied medicine, so they start looking for Doctor Hudson's. Which of course doesn't get them much further because there are too many.

Mack picks him up after a week and in that short time, Lightning has changed. Smokey has improved his attitude through hard work, strictness, guidance, and care - things Lightning hasn't had for a long time.

Lightning lives in Los Angeles. He and Smokey stay in touch. Months later, Lightning goes on a road trip with Mack in his Corvette along the famous Route 66. Lightning becomes seriously ill with a high fever. A hospital is an hour away when it gets too bad. The nearest doctor is ten minutes away. However, when Mack searches on the Internet, he also mentions a doctor Hudson, but he is half an hour away. Lightning insists on driving the long way anyway because the name reminds him of Smokey and care. From then on, Lightning doesn't notice much. He wakes up in a clinic room and of all the Hudsons in the world, the Fabulous Hudson Hornet is standing in front of him. Lightning recognizes him immediately and is excited. Weak - but excited. Doc pretends he is someone else and Lightning gives up for now, but contacts Smokey, who immediately takes the next flight.

Lightning recovers from his illness in the town and everyone else loves him, not knowing that he is famous. Everything is easier because Lightning is nice and humble.

Since he is not arrogant, it is love at first sight for both - Lightning and Sally.

Lightning discovers the dirt track and when he feels better in the evening he drives there in his Corvette. He drifts like Smokey taught him and Doc sees it and is impressed. They start talking and Lightning mentions Smokey. Doc always felt sorry that he never came back.

The next day Smokey arrives and there is a reunion. Doc apologizes. Smokey scolds him like back then but hugs his boy he so missed.

Doc sees Lightning's potential and starts to want to come back - as Lightning's crew chief. Lightning gladly accepts the offer and they develop the mentor-protégé relationship that we all know too well.

Sally and Lightning get together and Lightning becomes friends with hillbilly Mater from Doc's town.

The end :)

#what is this #I don’t know #but here we are #lightning mcqueen #cars fandom #pixar cars #cars pixar #disney cars #humanized cars #doc hudson #sally carrera #alternate universe #cars 3 au

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bougiebutchbitch · 9 months

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happy izzy headcanons, off the cuff:

ed's adhd ass remembers the most random shit about him that he said one time, like that his favorite color is green, he doesn't like sweets, and he used to feed a stray cat when he was a kid (despite not remembering ostensibly more important things / things that were repeated or told to him directly. RIP iykyk etc)

he called the cat Miss Lady and sometimes to get out of "playing" with "fellow" "children" and other such tedium, he would claim she was his boss and he had to go to work for her in her estate (he's like ≤8yo or something when he pulls this)

still has not gotten much better at lying than that tbh

his parents loved each other and him and his big sister very much. they were as happy as they could be in their level of poverty, and iz's youngest years were filled with unconditional love

he and his sister both got their first jobs at the same little shop, but izzy was immediately and comically fired for being crass and rude to customers lmao (also for wearing pants)

he was part of the navy for an astounding one (1) year before being discharged - equally comically - for being the singular most insubordinate little shit ever seen. regular punishments had absolutely no effect on his behavior, and though they threatened to do worse by that point they could not catch him.

his criminal record is just as long as ed's, but the bulk of his charges are morality based. he fucks so severely it is a crime. (not that hard to do really, at the time, but he's proud of it lol.)

Jewish

was taught to read english and hebrew as a kid (Jewish communities at the time had higher literacy on average than other groups & taught girls as well as boys to read, iirc)

can buy and sell in many languages, but can't really converse. is in the process of learning spanish from jim and french from frenchie (with much more unsavory instruction provided by roach, for surprise use on frenchie lmao)

not necessarily about izzy i guess lmao, but i have a scene that runs in my head of izzy telling jim something private in spanish and jim interrupting (but not fast enough) to yell that oluwande is fluent, to which olu nervously says "no, i forgot. those words. don't use 'em much, so. you know. whoosh. gone. didn't understand any of it."

he and anne fake dated way back, to make ed and mary jealous

he and jack tried this also, after it worked for anne but not for izzy, but in the process they accidentally dated for real (jack... might have had ulterior motives lmao)

takes ye olde hrt, in the form of an herbal tea recipe that he got from a midwife who clocked him at 50 paces. they are still friends.

bottom sub leaning, but still a vers switch!!!

explores his gender further, with encouragement and some minor guidance from wee john. he has a little bit of a crisis at first, wondering if he only felt like a man because he didn't make a very pretty woman, but he talks it all through in fits and starts - primarily in out of context ambushes - with john and jim, learns more about drag, etc, and eventually gets comfortable with being a man who pretends to be a woman sometimes and just happens to be very good at it due to certain biological advantages lol

later functionally becomes ed's drag mom, the way john was for him - featuring many more instances of dressing him up like he did for the party in season one

realizes after being folded into the found family that he LOVES cuddling, and physical intimacy of all kinds. like basically discovers acts of service is actually not his only love language. nothing makes him feel more content than being physically in sync with someone.

at some point pete decides he wants to stop being all talk and actually live up to all the shit he's bragged about, but he doesn't want everyone else to know and/or there to be any witnesses to him being bad at stuff at first. so he solicits secret lessons from izzy, and izzy gives them and keeps the secret without condition.

he's basically the gordon ramsay of piracy. if you're learning and you're working at it, he's patient and attentive. if you act like you don't have anything to learn or make claims you can't back up, he calls you a fucking donkey.

grows his hair out. adores having it played with.

takes his job as "unicorn" very seriously. all of his duties are pretty much assigned to him via his own perception of what the fuck being the ship's unicorn even means, but if he says something is or isn't his job everyone goes with it without question. he sometimes abuses this fact, but only with ed lmao.

has each member of the crew add their own x to his tattoo and ends up with a little constellation of slightly differently shaped stars across his cheek/temple

SHRIEKS IN JOY

oh these are PERFECT. Excuse me while i squeal over each and every one.

I KNOW THAT PAIN, ED, BABYBOY, DARLING, PRINCESS WITH A DISORDER. He is theeeee most ADHD gremlin. He will randomly describe in perfect detail a day from 10 years ago that Izzy only has the vaguest recollection of, down to the precise inflection in whatever Izzy said to make that moment stick in his mind - but he still doesn't know Izzy's birthday sldkfhgklsdfhg

oh no. OH NO. Tha'ts horrifically cute. And I love that Izzy is a gritty old pirate who can kill without a moment's hesitation - but he cannot tell a good fib to save his life lmao. It's the 'tism

:cris and holds happy baby Izzy close:

I'm WHEEZING at tiny angry scowly Izzy getting fired from a shop for being a bastard refusing to wear a dress, saying fuck this, running away to join the Navy where the wearing of dresses is not requisite, and almost immediately getting fired for STILL BEING A BASTARD. :chinhands: it's so him

I am just. Imagining. Lucius getting hold of Izzy's criminal record in S1 before they really get to know each other. And just being supremely confused that Izzy has actually walked the walk lmao

JEWISH IZZY JEWISH IZZY JEWISH IZZY :clutches that headcanon very close to my chest:

ohhhhhh gosh I LOVE the crew teaching each other casual little things.... language tutors Jim and Frenchie and co., my favourite. I wonder if Izzy teaches them a tiny bit of Hebrew, too? Or if he keeps that very close to his chest. (I love the headcanon that he and Ed are both Jewish, and it's part of what drew them together~)

SCREAMS at Izzy accidentally Revealing Things to Olu because he doesn't realise he speaks that much Spanish.... And at Jim warning him! I also imagine that like, AS SOON as Jim gives that warning, they get the fuck in front of Oluwande with a knife, juuuust in case Izzy goes for him - but Izzy just glares at Oluwande, jerks a nod, and mutters 'first time I've given a man amnesia without having to hit him in the head'. Oluwande awkward-laughs and flees, but though Izzy's a tiny bit wary of him for a few weeks, he doesn't stab him?? So, y'know, success?

also, as ever, I am OBSESSED with Jim and Izzy being casual quiet trans buddies and helping each other out now and then. :gently pushes my headcanon of Izzy helping Jim acquire Ye Olde Top Surgery towards the fandom on a silver plate:

FAKE DATING FAKE DATING AHHHHHHHHHHH

CJIZZY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh (I love Jack being like. 'Yeah I'll fake date you to make Ed jealous, Izzy :D Yeah, absolutely no strings attached. Yeah we're not gonna actually fuck or anything. Of course.' then pulling EVERY string available to get in Izzy's pants dsfklghkdsfgkdlsgf

YESSS TO BOTTOM SUB LEANING VERS SWITCH IZZYYYYYY he has the range, darling! I love the idea that he was Ed's service top for ages, and is legit good with a strap~ >:3c Almost as much as I love subby top Izzy who always comes too soon and goes jellylegged so his partner has to sigh and take over and fuck him into the mattress while telling him what a disappointment he is (which, ofc, only makes him wetter). ......Yes, I blame carryme for this one entirely.

TRANSMASC DRAG QUEEN IZZY TRANSMASC DRAG QUEEN IZZY - I vibe with this on a spiritual level. Also: I can imagine Izzy was REALLY rigidly 'I am a man so I have to be masculine' as a result of internalised transphobia/fear of discovery, so this whole process of realising he can do whatever the fuck he wants, actually, involves a lot of unworking of societal assumptions and confronting past traumas and fears, and Wee John only meant to share something transgressive and fun with Izzy but now Drag Hour is therapy hour too. And honestly, it's good for him and Izzy and Jim, and Izzy's expression goes this amazing mix of offended and delighted and terrified and excited whenever he realises that yes, he is allowed to present himself however he likes and he will 'still be a man'. Although I do think he might draw the line at dresses, and keep to more andro drag? Like, he tries on a pretty dress ONCE and it's a bit Too Much when he sees himself in the mirror - but that's completely okay too, and Wee John and Frenchie are more than happy to help with tailoring outfits that he actually likes!

i AM SCREAMING AT IZZY BEING ED'S DRAG MUM YES YES YES YES YES

ohhhhh.... Izzy being just an absolute cuddle magnet.... be still my heart. I like to imagine that he was too awkward to approach anyone at first, but was SUPREMELY touch starved, so he'd sneak into the cuddle pile on deck at night and then try to wake up in the morning before everyone else. But of COURSE, everyone realises and knows and thinks it's very cute and one day when he tries to make his usual escape (moving slow to try and draw out the warmth and the contact, as well as so as not to wake anyone up) Lucius sleepily grabs his wrist and grumbles, "Izzy, staaaaaay". And, well. How can Izzy say no to that?

PETE IZZY FRIENDSHIP AHHH???? I would read that fic in a heartbeat.

Vis-a-vis the Gordon Ramsey comparison: he has ABSOLUTELY called poor Stede an 'idiot sandwich'

LONG HAIR IZZYYYYYYYYY AHHHHHHHH

Izzy wearing each of the crew's little 'x' kissy marks besides Ed's.... oh, be still my heart. This one got to me. That cheek and his neck and chest are just a map of tiny stars and - OHHHHHHHHHHH you know they're all getting gently smooched

#Izzy Hands #ofmd izzy #our flag means death #ofmd edward teach #ofmd ed teach #YES EXCELLENT #ofmd jim #I AM HOLLERING

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