work 8 hrs

the most sèxualle thrill possible is the one you experience when you come home from working 8+ hrs dealing w/ clowns, fools, and absolute buffoons, etc, and you shower, eat, then pass the f*ck out.. but that’s just my opinion

Stress level high, Bank Account level low

×.× hey guys… I have been feelin’ all this stress lately regarding money, friendships, and school. So, I thought I would write this imagine. Yeeeeah? Enjoy sorry I’m trash and this has probably been done. ×.×

Y/N was trying so hard. There was never a day that y/n had to herself. Y/N had been working hard and a lot lately. Y/N was a small-town girl who had moved to L.A. too quickly. She was desperate for an escape from the bubble of her small town. And what place better for her to do that than L.A., right? Maybe if she was better supported by her family.

Her parents weren’t well-off. Most weeks, they lived paycheck to paycheck. They weren’t exactly dirt poor; they had a lot of nice items–those nice items caused a few debts–and her parents made sure that her and her siblings always had a place to shower and sleep. The sacrifice her parents made for her growing up was the only reason she refused to ask for money.

She had spent her days working two full time jobs. She would go to work for 8 hrs/ 5 days a week at a diner and the other two days were 10 hr shifts cleaning homes as a maid for a company. She was living in a studio apartment where the bedroom was the bathroom and the kitchen. She was miserable and alone.

She had left her friends straight after graduation in her home town. She was always too exhausted to go out and meet people and her co-workers didn’t really make an attempt to get to know her. She would smile and greet everyone, but she never knew why no one would ask her about herself.

Alone, tired, over-worked, with no money for school, she had no idea that she would meet Harry. A kind man on the wrong side of town, walked into the diner she worked at during her shift. She knew who he was. He was her idol. He didn’t look twice at her. His first visit was short. He didn’t sit in her section. He ordered tea and toast, then quickly left, leaving 20% tip.

She thought she would never see him again. But, he soon became a regular. One day, he was finally sat in her section. He ordered some pancakes with boisenberry syrup. He was always kind, for how late he showed up to place. He never showed any interest into getting to know his waitress.

But one night he did.

Y/N was losing her drive that night. One after another, grumpy customers had dumped on her and her service. They used harsh tones, ignored her, talked about her even when she was standing next to them, and leaving bad tips. She was gonna break.

When Harry came in, she had been crying on her break. The world was weighing on her shoulders. She didn’t know if she could make it any further. On her way home every day, she would pass homeless person after homeless person. And though she was always kind to them, and gave what she could to them: she worried that soon she would become one of them.

She wiped her snot on the nearest napkin she could find, washed her hands, put on the most broken, defeated, smile she could, and walked over to her customers. Finally reaching Harry, her voice was dry and aching. Harry cringed at its roughness. He looked up and saw the slight mascara stains on her flushed cheeks. His concerned shot through the roof.

She never noticed his stares. She thought he didn’t remember her name. But why else would he always sit in her section?? “What can I get you this evening?”

“How about you let me buy you a some coffee.” He spoke. She sighed and she promised tried to refuse. But he’d win in the end.

Months later, Y/N’s schedule slowed down. Mainly, Harry insisted to hang out a lot. She requested to work less, though she knew she shouldn’t. But, for once she had a friend!

Harry knew she struggled to make ends meat. She thought he was oblivious to the dark bags under her eyes. The fact that she never wanted to hang out at her place. The fact she always wanted to do something free like going to the park or hiking. She didn’t want him to think she was using him, and she was honest-to-god embarassed about her financial status.

Not that she thinks low of people of her status, she just felt that she had nothing to show for herself. She had no hobbies anymore, she had nothing to “woo” anyone with. Only bare necessities, and the same four outfits. Good thing, all black outfits are in fashion!

Harry noticed her struggles and would leave tips on the tables where rude customers would leave close to nothing. He would sneak twenty dollar bills in her apron when she wasn’t looking. He would recommend her maid service to his friends. He really did try to provide for her discretely ; so she wouldn’t be embarrassed.

Y/N and Harry would always try to make each other laugh. They would go on hikes and blast music. She would run ahead of him and dance and do weird jumps. They would go to the park and tan, and play board games. She would bring lists of jokes and puns about the diner and Harry’s neighbor –who never cared for Harry or his wacky suits and late night music sessions. His neighbor was a grumpy lawyer. Y/N would make little sandwiches for picnics at the park. Her hardwork, humor, and kind heart never went un-noticed by Harry.

He eventually asked her out. He didn’t want to hurt her, or make her uncomfortable. He slowly transitioned their goofy and natural friendship to a fun, exciting, romantic relationship.

After a year, Harry had enough. He was tired of seeing her work her ass off at two jobs. He was tired of canceled dates because she had to work. He was tired of her refusing gifts and trips. He just wanted to take care of her, at least some compromise to make it easier on her. Some days she would skip meals and not tell Harry why she was feeling faint.

Harry asked her what she wanted to do with her life. “What would you be doing if you weren’t waitressing?”

“I c-can’t say…”

“Please Y/N.”

“I-I like…”


“I don’t want to say. I want you in my life and if I tell you, you will get the wrong idea.”

Harry couldn’t contain his frustration. “Damn it Y/N! I love you and want you to be happy and willing to share your dreams with me! I want you to know you can tell me anything and everything!”

She looked down and mumbled her answer.
Harry only groaned in pure frustration.
“I like to sing.”

And Harry never smiled wider. This was something Harry could easily help her! He could literally set her up with everything.

“I already know what you are thinking Harry. You WILL NOT help me with this.” She flatly commanded.

“Why the hell not?”

“I don’t want you to think I am using you for your hard-earned money. I don’t want anyone thinking that. If I did let you do anything for me, how would I know if I deserved it? What if I lose you? I-I never want to lose you.” The conviction in her voice is something she did not expect. She had expcected to lose her cool.

“Well tough.” Harry smirks as he crosses his arms. You are one of the hardest working women I have ever met. I know that any money I spend on you is not a waste. Why? Because I love you and you deserve to be treated at least every once in a while. You will not lose me over this. I refuse it. You have worked so hard for your money and you are the most genuine. You deserve this. You give to others even when you can’t give to yourself. Even if you are absolutely horrible at singing, I will get you lessons because you deserve a chance at happiness.“ Harry ranted.

"I couldn’t do that Harry. Your fans would skin me alive if they found out I let you pay for my career.”

“They will deal with it.”

“I am inlove with you.” She sobs finally sinking into Harry’s world.



smth abt cushier jobs vs. service industry/low-level jobs that i think gets taken for granted is the difference in privacy alotted.

at my first job, working retail at minimum wage, i wasnt given a second of privacy. bathroom breaks had to be requested, my phone had to be in my locker. my manager got an office and a closed door, but i was always meant to be in the public eye.

i now work a better job, tho still customer service and close to min wage. ive noticed a huge difference in how much better it is - im shocked when im allowed to eat or draw during down time on my shift.

but that doesnt even COMPARE to when i hear people talk about office jobs like, where u have your Own Office and theres a door between you and someone who can yell at you. you can do your job how you need, with privacy and healthy distraction. i read a stat once that the average office worker gets 3 hours of actual work done in an 8 hr shift. when i worked retail i worked from the minute i got there til the minute a manager told me i could stop. i wasnt allowed to even sit down! my feet would be bleeding and i would be hiding from my managers in this secret crevice in the store to be able to re-bandage my feet for 30 seconds

and like. idk. the point of this is that being allowed space to exist and goof around for a few minutes here and again is important. service industry workers are treated like an extension of the product, rather than people doing a fairly exchanged job

anonymous asked:

Are the mchanzo and sexymchanzo blog dead? Because I really like the AU but I fudging loved those blog... Are they going to come back?


I have been falling behind with working on stuff for them but I am. Very slowly. I’m just juggling a lot of stuff at the same time. Very scarce time. The au kinda takes precedence in my list for personal reasons -aka i wanted to challenge myself and see if i could keep up the pace-

But updates will come, hang in there!

Edit: I mean they are not dead and yes they will come back. Wording, self

*slides onto the dashboard*

hello friends

So once again I will be inactive this weekend in art due to working back to back all day Saturday and Sunday. I might be able to get a doodle in if I’m lucky. 

That is all.

Have a goodnight!

my roommate says that I always want to do something, but I don’t know if that’s true… I think I’m just trying to cope with all the free time I have without burrowing myself in a deep pit of my own depression