they were all cheap or on sale

Ended a lucrative business relationship because of an incompetent, racist owner.

This happened over the course of the last week.

I hired a company to correct a big sinkage in my basement. They come in and drill holes and spray industrial foam under the flooring to level it. About a week ago they sent a guy over to locate all of the pipes and scope them for damage.

Then about 3 days ago the foam guys show up and get to work. About halfway through they stop and call me into the basement. There’s water running along my baseboards and they’re afraid they’ve hit a pipe.

They call the owner of the scoping company to come over and re-scope the pipes. He does and finds massive corrosion running all through it. I ask him why they didn’t find that on the first scope, and he tell me they weren’t looking for damage they were just locating the pipe. This makes no sense to me as you don’t need to put a camera into a pipe to locate the pipe.

Then he gives me the sales pitch. It’s going to cost between $4000 and $6000 to fix it, but he can get a “crew of cheap Mexicans” out there who “don’t pull permits” and can do it for much less. He says plumbers will rip you off, he used to be a plumber. I ask, “Oh, and you ripped people off?” I tell him no thanks on the labor, I’ll call my basement company back and let them deal with it.

During the course of the conversation with the scoping company owner he tells me they do about 100 of these a week for the basement company. Scoping is $99, cleaning is $125. At least $10,000 a week, probably $500,000 a year they make from the foam guys.

So here’s the rub. When things started to go pear shaped, I do what I used to do back in college when I had to have conversations with police. Put my phone in my shirt pocket and started to record. (No wiretapping laws in my state.) That’s right. I’ve got this guy soliciting illegal labor to me in full living digital color.

The next day, the basement company sends out some licensed and bonded plumbers to fix my pipes for $0 because of the failure to locate the pipes. That’s right, the scoping company marked the pipe FOUR FEET away from where it actually was. The scoping company not only didn’t find any damage, they didn’t even find the pipe. They did literally nothing. The basement plumbers do an excellent, professional job. They bill the scoping company for their time.

This morning the foam guys came back to finish the job and I tell them about the sleaze ball that they’ve contracted. I play the audio for them of the guy trying to sell me on “cheap Mexican” illegal labor. Half of the foam crew is Hispanic men. They are NOT pleased.

The white crew chief tells me, “We are never doing business with that company ever again. I’m calling our owner right now.” He also read me the contract that they had with the scoping company that explicitly says they are to look for damaged pipes, vindicating me once more.

The Yams per Minute Story


Misha told us a new story today at the panel. A college days story, which is my favorite kind of story.

Because college students are poor, Misha lived off of cheap, nutritious foods like rice and beans. He also recalled reading somewhere that you can live off of yams, so he bought 10 at the store one day on impulse (maybe they were having a sale at the time?). He brought them home, but of course he didn’t eat them right away and they started to go bad.

He realizes that he has to eat them all fairly quickly, so he decides to turn it into a game.

He bets his four roommates $10 each that he can eat these 10 yams in 10 minutes. They take him up on it. He eats the first yam in a minute and a half, and he gets through the second one by like the 6 minute mark and he’s starting to gag. He’s halfway through the third before he realizes that he is never going to finish and he feels awful. So he gives up and calls the competition off.

In his defeat he wobbles over to the pantry, and he sees this bottle of apple cider vinegar sitting there. Conveniently, he remembered that as kids, he and Sasha used to take shots of that stuff so he believed he’d built up a tolerance for it.

He carries the bottle back over to the table and he says, “Ok, guys. Double or nothing I drink this whole thing… in one minute.”

He throws up all over the fucking place. 

It happened so quickly that he didn’t even realize what was happening at first. It just all came out. Everywhere.

So by the end of the day, college-aged Misha is out $80 and he has to clean up his own yam-and-vinegar puke mixture off the kitchen floor.

Witchtip: On a Budget!
  • Sigils are pretty much the cheapest magic you can work.
  • Spoken charms and mudras (hand movements) are free.
  • Buying pre-processed Cascarilla is a nice convenience but it’s a lot cheaper to grind your own egg shells. You were probably going to throw them out anyhow.
  • Think Creatively when you shop. Get to know the correspondences of kitchen herbs.
  • white chalk is crazy cheap and has tons of uses in magic. Circle casting, warding, sigil work. When you must buy, buy multipurpose.
  • Learn to sew, by hand or machine. You can get nice fabric at a deep discount at garage sales or cut up nice curtains from thrift stores. Tarot bags and cloths, altar cloths, charm bags, poppets - all cheaper to make than buy.
  • Brush up on local plant lore. Even if you gotta sneak trimmings outta the park. Free is free.
  • Save the brown paper bags from the store. They make good petition papers when torn up.
  • Energy Work. Sometimes you don’t need materials at all to get shit done.
  • Use Birthday candles instead of full size tapers for spells. They’re portable and burn just long enough to work a spell.
  • A lack of organization can work against you and cause you to buy stuff at stores you forgot you had at home. Keep a small composition book and write down your entire inventory of consumable supplies with key words. Example - “Bay Leaves. ½ jar in stock. Allspice, Nearly out. Ginger root. Out.” Take it with you shopping. This way when you have decided to spend, you’re not frustrated coming home and finding that you just restocked something you had plenty of. Update it during the new moon, or whenever you run out of something.
  • Use magic! I have sigils going for all kinds of stuff. Finding useful books at a discount. Finding things I need at thrift stores. Saving Money. Put your magic to work for you.
  • On the subject of saving money - Start a magickal piggy bank. (Mine’s a Pikachu. But still!) When you spend cash, dedicate a certain amount to your witchy fund. Got 75 cents back? 30 percent toward supplies puts one quarter in the bank. It adds up. Bless the bank to draw in Prosperity. Pick up change when you find it. Make a set time when you spend it. On your birthday or maybe every sabbat. Stress free pocket money.
  • Go hiking at the nearest public park trail or wooded area. Bring a backpack full of brown paper bags and small containers. Willow bark, witches burrs, acorns, black walnut hulls and wood, shavegrass, cinquefoil, four leaf clovers, pine resin, juniper berries, cedar boughs for smudge sticks, styrax resin, buck eyes, wild ginger, river stones, moss, antlers - all free. Make a tradition of it with a witchy or open minded friend. Be safe though.
  • Make a ritual of shopping. When you have money to spend, ask your God/Dess, Guides, Angels, or Ancestors to lead you to the things you need at prices you can afford. Leave them small offerings in return.
  • Decide before hand how much you can spend. If you haven’t made an agreement with yourself to shell out cash that day, don’t. The joy of a new purchase made in haste often wanes to be replaced with regret. Don’t taint your magic with regret over money. Your Magic is inside you. It isn’t something you have to purchase access to.


anonymous asked:

May I submit a prompt? Angsty Tomione where Hermione is dying and Tom doesn't realize what she means to him until it's too late? I'm dying for a good Tomione tear-jerker and you're one of my favorite Tomion writers asdfghjkl T__T

(I’m writing this on my phone like an animal because my laptop is being fixed and this is all I have and I just want to WRITE so)

The world was somber, now.

He was still soaking wet from the rain, though the weather had long since quieted. The only sound in the room was his breathing and the unsteady drip, drip, drip of water falling from his hair onto the floor.

He was used to seeing this room from behind his desk. From there he could see the door, he could see out the window to the pathway that led up to his front door. Three out of the four walls were lined with books, save for the doorway which had been empty, once, and now was cluttered with art, cheap paintings from garage sales and thrift stores or something a friend had made, a friend he had never met, it wasn’t his friend who made it after all.

It was hers.

From behind his desk he could see her curled up on the arm chair by the window. She sat there so often he hardly felt angry about it any longer. It had been her idea, although she would swear it had been their agreement, that if she were not allowed to remove his books from his office she would read them there, whether he was present or not.

He started locking his door. She learned how to pick locks.

But he didn’t sit behind his desk now. He sat on the floor against one wall of books where he couldn’t see out of the window, couldn’t see the pathway that led to his front door, couldn’t make out the details of the art on the wall. But sitting there on the floor with his knees tucked up to his chest he could see her.

He could always see her.

It was dark. Dark enough that he couldn’t make out the titles on the spines of his precious books but there was no mistaking the red that stained his fingers and soaked into his floor.

He closed his eyes.

The world was quiet now.

This wasn’t supposed to happen–of course not. His world was always a whirlwind of shit, never ending, but never had he thought even for a moment that she would be caught up in it. Why would she? She wasn’t involved, she wasn’t aware, she wasn’t–

She wasn’t important.

She was just a girl, just someone he rented a room to, just someone who didn’t understand personal boundaries or how to keep her opinions to herself or how to stop asking so many fucking questions. All she understood was how to fucking burrow under his skin and stay there, festering, digging deeper into him until he couldn’t get her out, couldn’t fucking get her out because she had been there so long that she was a part of him. Like a growth. Like a tumor.

God, the world was cold, now.

He shivered, and opened his eyes.

Had she suffered, he wondered, and cursed himself for thinking it. Of course she had. They would have made sure of it.

He rubbed his hands over his face, forgetting for a moment they were still soaked in her blood. He couldn’t remember the last time he had panicked, but seeing her there on that floor, her throat split open left-to-right like a goddamn sock puppet’s mouth, bloody and grotesque, he had felt a panic so intense he found himself wheezing, falling to his knees and clasping his hands over her throat as if he could save her, as if he could close the wound and she would blink her wide open eyes and look at him again and tell him what a careless, thoughtless, overconfident fool he had been to ever think he could escape this, to ever think he could have her.

You’re an idiot, she would say. And maybe–maybe she would be happy to see him so afraid, to see the moisture in his eyes. She had never seen that before.

He curled his fingers, dug his nails into his hairline, and screamed. It felt like he was ripping something out of his chest, like he was reaching down in his throat and tearing himself apart, and maybe that was her, he thought. Maybe that’s what it felt like when you actually gave a shit about a single, beautiful thing in your life.

But now he sat, with his back against the wall, and he was silent. He felt like maybe he was bleeding, too. Maybe he was dying, too.

The world was dark, without her. It was dark and cold and quiet and angry.

He lifted his hands, pressed his bloody palms against the books behind him, used them as leverage to pull himself up on shaky legs. His fingers left a red smudge behind, and his feet stuck to the floorboards and left behind crimson footprints as he made his way toward the door.

He couldn’t feel fury, not really, but he felt something so much stronger take its place. He had heard of it, he had been told he should feel it on the day his father died and on the day he mother died and on every goddamn day of his wretched life ever since but he hadn’t. It coiled right around his stomach now, and he could feel it tighten with every step he took away from her, tighten and tighten and tighten like it would fucking cut him in half, but he didn’t stop. His throat burned and his chest felt torn open and he wanted to scream and scream and scream until he had no voice left but he didn’t.

He couldn’t save her. He never could. She was damned the moment he had decided he wanted to keep her, and he was damned the moment she allowed him to.

He couldn’t save her.

But he knew who killed her. He took a knife from the kitchen. They would expect him, he knew. But he wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t go there first.

Let them feel what he felt. Let them come home to the ones they care about bled out on their floor. Let them see their world dead at their feet and feel as if their throats are being torn open, too. Let them mourn the loss of every good thing they have, of every lovely, perfect thing. And then–

He didn’t get to say goodbye. The thought occurred to him in the doorway, and he paused.

It didn’t matter.

After he was done, he would get to say hello.

Lust Spilt from Mason Jars

Painting was Levi’s worst habit.

He wished he could stop painting the blues and greens of those ocean irises and sunkissed skin sitting vulnerably in front of him. He wished he could stop, but he knows that he can’t. He was in too deep - too addicted to those chocolate mocha curls, the defined muscles that curved and mended his body, the bonfire scent that never failed to stimulate and heighten his senses, the raspy morning voice that seemed to always tumble out through those lustrous looking lips. He was hooked - completely enraptured and addicted to this man. And none of it was his to own. This man was a desire made to be off limits.

Eren was like an endangered species, a rare and exotic mammal worshipped and praised in a world filled with power thirsty men. He was the branches of the tropical trees reaching for the rich, moist air of the Amazon rain forest - the dew drops slipping off the fresh, greenery leaves and into the rich soil of the Earth. He was the desperate intake of air when rising from the depths of Washington’s freezing waters. He was an area of unknown wonders. An area of vast curiosity. A mystery.

On the other hand, Levi was - well he was the crumpled piece of paper at the bottom of his plastic blue dented trash can. The plastic blue dented trash can in his overcrowded room of pencil shavings and unfinished canvases. He was the smeared smoky watercolors staining the cold concrete flooring of his studio, the sketchy amateur lines inscribed into the massive piles of sketchbooks on his overly cramped desk of spilt mason jars and matted paint brushes. He was an uncompleted mess of cheap clutter - a hoarder, a waste of space.

He wished he could limit the amount of hours that he spent in his studio painting and perfecting those colors flourishing in his eyes, trying to convey the same range of sea green and cerulean blues swimming behind those thick black lashes.

There was just something about those sultry eyes staring back at him all posed and lazy on the stupid old rickety stool he bought from a yard sale but never had the guts to get rid of. He was a true hoarder of the meaningless things, the things that were never picked up by outstretched hands for their cheap outlook. Just like him. Cheap and meaningless.

He looked down at his canvas and cleared his dry throat, his eyes reverting back to the model posed in front of him. He wanted to paint this otherworldly man in red - in the color of passion and lust. He wanted to be the air filling Eren’s lungs that filtered through his body with every intake and exhale leaving his nose. He wanted to be the six hundred dollar trench coat clenched loosely in his white collared fingers just so he could feel him mold around the crevices of his naked skin and drown in his sweltering heat. He wanted to invade every inch of space between Eren’s widespread legs dressed in ripped light washed cutoffs so he could watch their shadows play out the joint connection of their bodies moving and joining in sweet ecstasy. He wanted to be painted in his red.

Levi took in Eren’s full parted lips letting out wisps of generous breaths and listened to the labored breathing of his healthy lungs tumbling through his smooth fleshy pink lips, completely entranced by his caramel chiseled chest slowly inhaling and exhaling. He swallowed.

“Something the matter, Levi? You look…distracted.”

Levi licked his lips and lifted his eyes to settle on Eren’s sculpted jawline and sharp nose. He didn’t want to risk looking into his tantalizing glare. He didn’t want to be tempted by the golden treasures lost at deep sea.

“No…I was…um-” He tsked and furrowed his thin brows in annoyance. Why wasn’t he able to speak? He was a fucking thirty year old man. Not a blubbering fifteen year old.

“Taking a short break?” Eren offered, his voice low, gruff, and dangerously husky.

Levi tightened his sweaty fingers around the paintbrush in his hand and shifted his eyes onto his canvas. “I…” He swallowed and licked his dry lips. Why was it so hard to speak to him today?

When he heard the familiar creaking of the stupid old rickety stool and the soft padding of Eren’s bare feet on the smoky water colored concrete flooring of his studio, Levi felt his heart clench and punch against his ribcage. Fuck.


No, I’m not…I can’t-

Mr. Ackerman.” He whispered.

Levi felt his cheeks redden. Why did he have to go and say shit like that? There was a reason to why he told him not to call him by that, and it was specifically for this reason. He scrunched his nose up. The little shit was probably doing it on purpose.

“We should continue this tomorrow,” Levi muttered, quickly putting away his utensils and color palettes. “You have a meeting in thirty minutes anyways.” He continued, his voice calm and collected. The complete opposite to what he was feeling on the inside.

“Then I’ll cancel it.”

Levi deepened the furrow of his eyebrows and gnawed on his lip. “Well, Hanji is supposed to be coming-” He started before Eren grabbed his chin and turned his face to look at him, his eyes meeting his in an instant.


Levi let out a sharp breath and felt his cheeks burn tremendously as Eren’s thumb caressed his bottom lip, continuing to keep their eyes on each other as Eren slowly pulled down his lip. Just when he was starting to lean down, Levi freaked out and moved to grab onto his portable cart of paint to back away from him, but instead pulled it down with him. He panicked and fell out of his stool, spilling all of his bottles of paint onto him and on the floor in all kinds of colors. Levi cursed and wiped a good amount of paint from his eyes as he stared down at the mess he made. Why was he always like this? It was like his whole life was born to be a mess from the very beginning.

Just as he was about to sit up, Eren’s warm hands grasped onto his face and pushed him back down onto the floor, climbing over his body. Levi could feel the spilt paint seeping into his hair and clothes and clenched his jaw. He felt filthy. Disgusting.

He should be getting up to get a change of clothes and jumping into the shower right this second, but with the presence of Eren over his body, he thought otherwise. Besides, he hardly ever got the chance to be this close to Eren and still have the ability to get away with it. It was like a blessing - as if he was in the presence of a deity, a god.

Levi pressed his paint covered hands on Eren’s bare chest and pushed. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, trying not to focus on how Eren’s hot skin felt under his cold palms. “I will not be responsible for replacing your expensive fucking pants if you end up getting paint on them.”

Eren chuckled. “I don’t plan on it. Besides…” He started, briefly looking down at Levi’s painted lips before he inched down and brushed his mouth over Levi’s, purposefully coating his lips in a dark shade of blue.

“I don’t mind getting dirty.”

Creepypasta #1203: The Lady On The Wall

Length: Long


I was exhausted. My son, Will, was shouting for me from his room.

“Daddy! Daddy!” He screamed through his sobbing.

I was half-awake anyway because my wife had just gone to the bathroom. I assumed that’s what stirred Will. I cleared my head a moment and pushed myself up to go to his room. I walked across the landing, rubbing my eye that was struggling to adjust to the light coming from the bathroom. I reached for the handle of Will’s door.

“Shhh baby, mummy is here. It’s just a bad dream.” My wife said in a whisper.

Being selfish and wanting to get some much needed sleep, I left my wife to deal with Will and went back to bed. I was just drifting back off to sleep when I was disturbed by my wife getting back into bed.

“Is he alright?” I said, trying to stay awake.

“I don’t know, I thought you were seeing to him,” she said, confused.

It took a moment for me to process what that meant, but I sprung awake and charge through Will’s bedroom door. He was whimpering and staring at the wall.

I rushed and grabbed him in my arms. There was nobody here but him.

“I got you, buddy, I got you. What’s the matter?” I whispered to him.

“She said mummy is going to take care of you, and she stroked my hair.” He sobbed.

His small fingers were digging into my shoulders and he buried his face into my chest. My son was absolutely terrified and it broke my heart.

“Who said that Will?” I asked him.

“The lady… on the wall,” he said.

I brought Will into our bed for the night and went back to check his room. Of course there was nothing there, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of what I heard. I know I’d heard a woman’s voice coming from his room.

I spoke to my wife about it and told her what had happened the next day. She said that he was having a nightmare, and that I was so tired that I was probably hearing things. I told her she was right, although I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

The screaming and talk of the lady on the wall continued until William’s fourth birthday, at which point it stopped entirely. Whenever Will was alone the lady on the wall seemed to appear. No matter what time of the day she was there.

William told me that she said things like:

“Mummy will never leave you again.”


“I’ll take you away from them, they don’t love you like I do.”

My wife told me that he was making it all up, and that her friends had told her that their children had gone through similar phases of imaginary friends and fantasies, but this seemed a little dark and mature to be conjured in the mind of a 3 year old.

Will spent a lot of time sleeping in our bed during that year, he would wake us up screaming but we never managed to catch the lady on the wall.


My wife became pregnant in 1994 (strangely after the lady on the wall disappeared and Will went back to his own bed). We had a beautiful girl named Holly. Will took to her like a charm and was a great big brother. My wife fell pregnant for the last time in 1995 and gave birth to a boy, Samuel, in 96. We had our perfect little family and the Lady on the Wall was all but forgotten.

That was until Samuel’s third birthday. That night Samuel screamed, I went to him and sure enough he told me about the Lady on the Wall. I was furious that William had scared his little brother that way- he should have known better after the time he spent terrified.

I bought Samuel to our bed for the night and decided to deal with William in the morning.

Keep reading

So, I work at a shoe store where our current promotion is “Buy one, Get the second pair 50% off (as long as the second pair is a sales item).”

I saw this woman looking at shoes and I went up to her to ask if she wanted help. She showed me two different shoes, and pointed at the sale prices. One shoe was 69.99, and the other shoe was 79.99

Her question “Why doesn’t this (79.99) shoe have the same price as the (69.99)?” Because, they’re two DIFFERENT styles. She thought ALL the sale items had the same exact price. “All the shoes should have this (69.99) price.” Lol, N O. First of all, they’re all different styles. Of course they’re all gonna have different sale prices. It’s not even our choice, it’s corporate decision to decide which should/should not be a sale item.

She still wanted to try them on anyways, so I got them and gave her the shoes. Her family members came in later and they talked about the shoes and shit. After awhile, I went to go check up on them and she asked about the sale. Told her it, and asked “If we get one shoe, will it be 50% off?” Like. LIKE. I said “Buy ONE. Get the SECOND pair 50% off.” Obviously I said no, and she practically gave up on that aspect. Then she asked “What if we get three pairs? Will it be 50% off the third pair?” Lol. You serious bruh? It’s SECOND pair, not THIRD pair. THE SIGN DOES NOT SAY ANYTHING REMOTELY CLOSE TO THAT. IT’S JUST SIMPLY “Buy one, get the second pair 50% off.” I said no, and she continued to pester me about it. “Why not? Can’t you give it to me? We came here to buy three shoes.” Ok, then let someone in your family get two shoes or get it as a gift. I don’t know, it’s not my fucking problem. Either way, I can’t do that shit because I’ll get in trouble and I didn’t want to give into their entitled needs. I told her no so many times and explained to her that we cannot because it’s only on the second pairs, not the second and third pairs. She got upset, but asked me when the sale ends. Corporate never tells us the end dates; they tell us a few days before the current promotion ends so no one knew at the time. Told her that we don’t know and are not told about the end dates, she said “Can you go ask?” No, because I know what I’m saying. I had other customers aside from this family, so I went to check up on them. When I came back to check again, the same woman went to my other coworkers and asked the SAME EXACT QUESTIONS. And surprise surprise, she was given the same exact answers.

She asked about the 4th of July sale too, and obviously we’re gonna have a sale around that day, but we don’t know when it will start or what it’ll be. Even though she has zero clue on what the sale would be, she decided that she’ll wait to buy these shoes until then. I could’ve probably tried to save this sale, but it was also pretty hopeless to begin with. I wanted them GONE too. I didn’t give a fuck about doing my job in a polite manner to them. They literally pissed me off because they were also so ill-mannered, entitled, and STUPID. The shoe displays they took to look at were scrambled all around the shelves. You don’t have the decency to put it them back in a neat way at least? I get not knowing where they originally were, but they were so fucking messy.

Cheap asses coming into our store where the shoes are expensive af; expecting to get 50% off each shoe they like even if there’s nothing displaying that shit. I’m tilted, lol.

To Be Favored (Part 3)

The first month went by without incident. The third week of school there was a sale, put on by the Metalworking club (which I had thought to be an odd club to exist, but it all makes sense now). They sold iron rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings and even piercings (not done by the school itself of course). It had seemed like the school had encouraged it, seeing as most, if not all the professors, were offering a bit of extra credit if the students showed proof of purchase, and the jewelry was unrealistically cheap. The club set up tents, and some of the pieces were beautifully crafted. Some were plain, others inlaid with (probably fake) gems, turquoise and diamonds. I went with Vector and I bought a few rings, studded with small pieces of ruby, and a necklace of iron chain that a clear crystal hung from.

When I asked Azriel why she hadn’t bought any, she explained that she much preferred gold over iron, and that it looked better on her anyway.


The first student was Taken in my second month of university.

He had been in my Intro to Environmental Engineering class. He hadn’t shown up for a few days, but I assumed he was simply sick. I hadn’t known him that well. The teacher would call his name and subsequently mark him absent, for the first few days. Then, after a week and a half, when it came time to call his name, he would pause for a moment before completely skipping it. At the time, I figured he had run away, or just dropped out. There was no bulletin for him, no announcement of death or speech by the Dean. It was as if he had stopped existing altogether. People had said he was killed, attacked by an animal, that his mother had died and he had to return home, even that he had decided to do porn instead of school (he had been very attractive, but come on).

He had gone by Michael, which I assume was his real name. Knowing what I know now, he was not one of the Smart Ones.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I had a quick question: you mentioned in a post about the "sodomite population" in the West Indies, and I was wondering if you had more info on that, or could point me towards more info? Like were they sent there, did they exile themselves, etc.? I'd really like to know more, so thank you in advance for any info you can give!

There’s not really specific statistics I can give you about the prevalence of sodomites in the West Indies or how accepting/apathetic the region was about sodomy at any given time. You have to understand that no two places on the map or in time would be the same about the issue, and it’s all circumstantial. But, given context, I can say that the West Indies would’ve had a larger population of people convicted of sodomy after the 1640s than any other British colony.

To answer your question, all I can do is explain the history of the labor force demographics of the colonial West Indies and let you make your own speculations.

Keep reading

Brand New Start.

Read parts 1-5 on my masterlist HERE 

((sorry this took so long, I’m currently in school so it might be a while till I write more stuff so bare with me but i’ll do my best!!))

Enjoy!! :)

Originally posted by dailyniall

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

not sure if this counts since it was a charity bake sale but basically the people who I was doing it with were so ugh! they wanted to price everything way too cheap, they stood blocking the front of the table loads and when they went to mcdonald’s for lunch, they brought it back and ate it all around our table and were being really loud and obnoxious which obviously put off loads of people from approaching us. I was the only person actually selling cake while they all just fucked around

Imagine introducing Castiel to Halloween candy.

‭It was your Halloween tradition to go to the nearest pharmacy and buy out all of the boxes of Halloween candy that they had left over. It was always on sale for cheap, and the credit card scams that you and the Winchesters had going were super helpful. You scored a staggering twelve boxes of fun sized candy bars on this one, and always left the motel rooms with pockets full.

‭The boys even started to call you Gabriel, who had been known for his sweet tooth.

‭The best part about it was getting Castiel to try all of the different kinds. He took it all very seriously. Each new flavor, each new filling, it was all an adventure to the Angel. He had just gotten to know burgers but this was a whole new ball park.

‭“What is nougat?” Castiel asked, looking at the writing on the small foiled package.

“Nobody knows, that’s the beauty of it. Go on, try it.” You encouraged.

‭He took the packaging off, the first time he had neglected to do so and thought he hated chocolate for a couple of hours, and then took a bite. Then another. Then he grabbed three of the same kind and forced it all into his mouth.

‭“The angel likes nougat, boys.” You grinned. “Pay up Dean.”

‭You were getting a hefty little amount from the boys due to these bets.

I just impulse bought some new dice that were on sale in my favorite shop. A gorgeous red glitter set with gold numbers, a hot pink d6, a royal purple d8, a rose-colored d10 and a burnt orange d12.

I really need to buy a dice bag next, this is getting too much for my small dice box, lol.

Ohio Portrait no. 63

So much free parking. So many empty schools. So many aborted and half developed exurbs, suburbs. Such low rent. So many hollowed-out malls with shifty-eyed security guards and put-upon bored kids. Such cheap produce. So many classmates that never left. What a lovely parks system. What a dirty lake. So many new casinos. What nice turnpike pit stops. What a low sales tax and minimum wage. What a greying population.

They moved here to have children, to make steel or cars, to teach at the college, to work for NASA, to mine salt from underneath Lake Erie. The schools were good. The land was cheap, but there were plentiful amenities. It was a proper city, but not an intimidating one. Eastern time, rustbelt industry, midwestern sensibilities. Such promise. What times they had.

They call it the Cleveland Brain Drain. We grow, we suck all the nutrients from the dirt, we learn, we save our money, and we leave.

We take jobs in the eastern cities, with their steep rent and narrow streets; we hide in expensive, drafty bars in Chicago or St. Louis, bragging about what we know; we flee to LA or San Fran or France or Lebanon and show everyone back home all the pictures. We are smiling and small against big backdrops.

We come back briefly to collect Christmas presents, roller coaster rides, hugs, memories, estates, condolences. We do not call enough. We spend our money on stupid craft brews that all taste the same – bitter – instead of on plane tickets.

We are statistics. We move by trends, like the grandparents and parents who brought us here. They placed their roots by the veins of salt that ran beneath the lake. We have placed thin roots in the air.

When we visit, we enjoy the low sales tax, eat the 99 cent peaches, roam the empty sidewalks, reflect in the windows of our closed-down high schools, and prepare to leave again. A huge hunk of us stays. But not the brain.

Report me for "breach of contract"?

(warning: long story)

I own a construction equipment dealership, specializing in excavation gear. The main brand I carry has dealership “every 2 blocks”, to the point that there are over 800 in the lower 48 states alone. They do this to keep prices down, because dealers have to compete with each other.

My story starts in 2005.

Business was booming, I was making 15% on all new gear, and selling it by the truck load. I was one of the largest dealers in the U.S., and I was the largest in my region.

The factory provides us with the machine, as well as accessories for it. As a dealer, we are not allowed to sell non authorized after market accessories if the machine itself is being financed through the factory.

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Art final for my Drawing III class for fall semester 2015. Our theme was anything, as long as it’s big lmao. Everyone had deep meanings and they were crying (shit man I was crying too) and while I was presenting I just said “I like Sailor Moon, so it’s kinda like that.”

EXO Reaction to You Trying to Dance “Monster”

Xiumin: Xiumin wouldn’t be able to stop giggling as you attempted for the fourth time at one of his moves in Monster. You weren’t actually doing that bad of a job but you had no sense in how to swing your hips in a seductive manner. It looked like one of those inflatable figures that are used at cheap car sales to attract customers. “I swear to god, Minseok! Stop laughing, we can’t all have your saucy hips.”

Originally posted by mminseok

Luhan: Luhan was ecstatic when you asked if he wanted to learn the “Monster” dance with you. One of your favorite pastimes were to put on music and just dance the day away, but with EXO’s recent single coming out you knew the two of you had to learn it. Fast forward to you sweating like a pig and barely hitting your mark while this LuBitch had already mastered the whole dance. You were a decent dancer and could follow a routine pretty fast but this choreo was freaking insane and it didn’t help to hear Lu’s “OoooH!” every time he nailed a move. 

Originally posted by lusass

Kris: Kris was literally impressed in you at trying to cover Monster for your YouTube channel. Although the dance was a little different from what they usually did when Kris was in the group, he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He would offer to monitor your moves in accordance to theirs to see what you needed to work on the most. Anytime you start to lose hope in mastering the new move, Kris would have you sit next to him as he told you about all the times he thought he couldn’t do it but that Yixing or Sehun would always help him through it. “They were there for me, just like how I’ll be here for you. Now come on, try out the move again.”

Originally posted by vvu-yi-fan

Lay: Yixing would find it adorable that you were teaching yourself the Monster choreo when he knew it was a rather difficult dance to learn. Yixing quietly watched you from his position at the door to the studio; not wanting to break your concentration. Although, when you fumbled your way through the quick step of shuffling across to your next position, Yixing didn’t hesitate to rush in and help you. “Its okay, Jagi. All the boys had a hard time with this move; let me help you.” 

Originally posted by xingblingmi

Suho: Suho was always flattered when he found you practicing the latest song that him and his members had put out, he even would do his little surprised gasp as he walked in to see you vigorously memorizing the moves. You found it amusing with how many times Suho made it seem like this was the first time even though it was pretty much a routine by now. The minute the dance performance video came out you would have your hands all over it, but you knew it was how Suho showed his appreciation towards you loving his work.

Originally posted by mydorkybiases

Chen: Honestly, you had just wanted to learn the Monster choreo with your friends because it looked fun but the reaction you got out from Chen made you kind of regret it. The second he had heard the intro of the song, he had run into the studio to check out who was listening to Monster. Seeing it was you and your friends warming up to practice it, Chen started laughing in his loud ass voice and saying he had to stay and watch. “Yahh, this will be so much fun to watch!” However, whenever one of your friends or you made a mistake the teasing would begin. It was you’re going too fast or that move was too sloppy until finally you had to kick Chen out of the studio. You loved him to death but he could be a bit much sometimes.

Originally posted by exoxoolf

Chanyeol: “Woah, you’re learning our dance?” Chanyeol asked in bewilderment as he walked in to see you running through the choreo from Monster. You sighed in frustration at the sight of Chanyeol, you had wanted to surprise him by learning the dance (to show your admiration towards him and the members) but the dance required a lot more technique that you didn’t have. On top of the fact that Chanyeol also ruined the surprised made your mood plummet, but once Chanyeol knew about the plan he waved his hands in the air and spoke. “Okay, I’ll walk out and pretend I wasn’t here, no problem, but it looks good by the way.”    

Originally posted by sugutie

Baekhyun: Baekhyun was like an excited puppy when he heard you were going to try to learn the Monster choreography. He had heard that a lot of people were going to cover it but seeing you, probably one of his favorite people in the world, he couldn’t wait for it. When he checked up on you later to see you struggling with the turning yourself on the floor move, he came in to give you support. “It’s okay, it took a lot of us to learn this move. Everyone needs their own time to prefect it.” Giving you one of his puppy smiles, Baekhyun would run over to your phone to restart the song.  

Originally posted by parkchny

D.O: You had noticed the owlish eyes staring at you a few verses ago, but you were trying to keep focus with the difficult move that was coming up. Trying and again fucking up the move completely, you fell to the floor in despair. “Kyungsoo-ah? Can you help me?” You would ask turning your head towards the door of the studio. He’d be a little surprised you had notice him but Kyungsoo would hesitantly agree, “Well, I think Kai would be a better teacher but okay” he spoke slowly while helping you up, “You’re actually very good at the chorus, I think you are just trying too hard; loosen up.” 

Originally posted by daenso

Tao: Tao wasn’t surprised when he found you watching over a recording of you practicing the Monster choreo, even while he was still in EXO, you were obsessed on learning all the dances. You would always send Tao videos of your versions of the dance, asking for feedback because you knew he would be honest with his replies. “You need to have more swagger at Sehun’s part, otherwise it will make the audience bored.” Tao said as he went to pull up the dance video on his phone for you to have an example. 

Originally posted by lil-duckling

Kai: You had only been practicing the moves for maybe twenty minutes before Kai had walked in to see you trying (and failing) to dance to their newest single. He had come to investigate who had been playing the song when he knew none of the boys had been planning to practice. However, when Kai found out it was you who was trying to learn the dance he stayed by your side the whole time. Either watching your moves and giving feedback on what would look better or going through each motion with you as your personal dance instructor. To say the least, you were entirely thankful you had Kai at your side. 

Originally posted by blondejongin

Sehun: Sehun would love the chance at getting to tease you while watching you trying to keep up with the Monster choreography. He would have to admit you were doing pretty well with the moves until you got your legs all tangled up at the beginning of the chorus part. Sehun wouldn’t be able to stop his laugh as you stumbled out of the move, keeping a light tone but still taking the chance to make fun of you he would help teach you the correct way of performing it. “Wow, you looked really lame. But hey, you got Oh Sehun to teach you. You’re welcome.”

Originally posted by luderella

- Admin Jade

[Miraculous Ladybug]: Think Alike

oh shit! update! whaaaaaaat?

so unfortunate side effect of having multiple multi-chapters is that you run the risk of forgetting about them……which admittedly happened with this one…..oops…..

so shoutout to @ladyserendipitous and others from the mlfanfiction server who reminded me that i had this, which encouraged me to update it (good thing too bc i forgot how much i loved this idea). 

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Title: Think Alike

Summary: Adrien never really considered himself an artist per se. He only ever considered what he did a hobby, something that he did for joy and not for obligation. But Marinette held his prints up to the light, smiled up at the glossy photos he’d spent hours shooting and editing, and looked at them like they were practically perfect. And how could Adrien not let his chest swell up at the sight of her pride?


Chapter 4: Shopping

“So wait, just to review. Why is this not a date again?”

Marinette threw her head back and whined. “It’s not a date because it’s not a date!” she repeated. “I didn’t ask him out, I invited him to go shopping with me because he was asking me questions about designing. That’s it!”

“Yes, but you also have a crush on him and you invited him to do an activity with just the two of you. I dunno, babe, that sounds like a date to me.”

Marinette glared at her. “By that definition, you asking Nino to help you babysit your sisters today is also a date. Boom. Deflected. Leave me alone.”

Alya rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Um, no. Not deflected. Do not twist this on me, I asked you first.”

“And I answered already!” Marinette complained.

Alya crossed her arms and smirked. “Okay no. You’re over here like ‘oh I’m not trying to get with him, I’m just helping him out like a good friend.’ Meanwhile you conveniently had to pick up your fabric orders today and you conveniently needed Adrien’s help to do it. Which yeah, ok, like this isn’t you trying to spend more alone time with him. And then, let’s please acknowledge that this happened all because you were totally starstruck after your darling sunshine prince sat with you and started showing you his camera.”

“It wasn’t a lie! Sure I was going to pick it up tomorrow, but I really do have a fabric order there waiting for me!”

“You are whipped as hell, Marinette.”

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I noticed a bit of discussion online about “techwear” and how expensive it is. I thought I’d throw something together that was both affordable and accessible to illustrate that this look can be done on a budget.

There is also an argument to be made that cheap, disposable and low-key looks are more in line with the archetypal urban denizen depicted in cyberpunk texts and media. Further, “cheap” doesn’t always mean poor quality and many of the pieces I’m wearing in these photos are years old and have been worn countless times during a number of physically demanding exercises, in a range of environments.

Gear List:
• Cotton-polyester blend cap: $AUD3 – K-Mart
• Linen bandana: $AUD2 – eBay
• Polyester vented, hooded running jacket: $AUD35 – Nike Outlet
• Nylon, polyurethane-coated backpack: $AUD30 – eBay
• Polyester mesh t-shirt: $AUD3 – K-Mart
• Quartz military watch on NATO strap: $AUD10 – eBay
• Paracord bracelet: $AUD2 – eBay
• HUSS cargo pants: $AUD25 – Military surplus/disposals store
• Polyester knit sports socks: $AUD3 – H&M
• Mesh running shoes: $AUD7 – K-Mart  

Total Price: $AUD120 (Roughly $USD90)

All items were purchased brand new and only the Nike jacket was on sale. The jacket could be swapped for any black windbreaker or even a surplus vinyl rain poncho. A $12 digital Casio is a more robust alternative to this Chinese military watch, but I wanted something with a cheap nylon strap.