#I am gainfully employed now

[romeythehomie]

i should’ve been an engineering major!!

[bbluesrreality]

It’s so fun and cool that I’m an exhibitionist that gets to show myself off and be praised for being hot for a living. Genuinely, I am so proud of myself and it makes me feel good about my body and I’m so so so glad I’m in a position where I feel safe enough to do it and have a good support network around me to keep me from some of the more worrying and potential highly consequential vulnerabilities of certain areas of the industry I’m in and actually have fun with my work and feel creatively fulfilled and not have to take up every sometimes shitty offer that comes my way and get followed back and flirted with by some of my biggest crushes ever (and maybe actually DM and meet them in the future…) and “meeting” new hot people every day and all the love and support and now that my terrible horrible no good very bad year roommate is gone I actually feel fully comfortable doing my sex work job where I live!!! Very exciting.

My life is crazy. I can’t believe this is literally me using my degree. I can’t believe my pussy makes me rent plus some. I wish it made me more but that’s just a work ethic and consistency thing at this point. School cost me so much, it’s going to take a long time to be gainfully employed but this is a start and it’s a fun start and I present well, even lightly conservative people tend to like me upon introduction even with the blue hair if I play my cards right, so I don’t think this job will actually close off future employment opportunities I’m likely to seek. It may be where I live and the crowds I frequent but I’ve never gotten a bad reaction to saying “Oh, I’m uh, I’m a camboy.” When people ask “What do you do for work?” And Gen X loves to hear things like “SEO optimization” and “Intrinsically motivated” in interviews. I don’t even need to keep it totally off my resume tbh. And I really have learned a lot of a skills and a lot about learning and a lot about people and a lot about motivation and a lot about myself and a lot about what I want in this line of work.

And a lot about the various angles of my body and divets and bulges in my muscles and niche kinks on the internet and new ways trans people manage to be beautiful perverts and sensations in my holes and compliments that make me blush.

I hope to live a long and happy transsexual life with many phases, many looks, many skills, many friends, many lovers, many tragedies, many meals and tattoos and sex tapes and sexual favors and platonic favors. If, god forbid, something were to happen to me, I want it to be out there that I don’t want my porn deleted. (As of now)

Everything is political. My body is political. Trans bodies are beautiful and I love them and I want them to be seen and demystified in all forms and I know I am only one form, a relatively normative form at that, but making what a naked trans body looks like accessible to the adult public feels politically important to me. I sometimes bridge a gap via “genderfluid” expression codeswitching in my work to help show somebody that they can be attracted to somebody who is feminine in one second, and masculine in the next. It is my attentive study of a vast amount of queer media (read: gay shit) that allows me to do this improv crowd work, lol, on my streams, and my media production experience that allows me to bring it to life with some quality in my horny short films as a one-man production team. I am not a doctor but my body and my trans joy is in part the result of advanced medical research, that was only fought for and made available to my generation recently, and is in danger of belong revoked for those who have it again now in my country after the last election. The nazi’s first book burning was medical literature on transsexual healthcare. The visibility of my little cock is incredibly important to me. His right to reach the eyes of every one who wants to feast upon him. For this trans guy to continue to have the right to be who he is and do as he pleases with his body happily and with safety. My body is political and I want its legacy to live on forever and inspire the transsexuals and transgender people of the future. The internet is forever right? Make it forever. Share me forever. Look at me forever. Love me forever.

I feel currently, and yearn to continue to feel, a huge amount of joy in sharing the things I find beautiful about myself and hearing them affirmed by strangers who often become vulnerable themselves to me in return- sometimes not, but sometimes there profile has their name in it, their kinks, their post or reply or like history, all of the people they follow and maybe links to accounts on other sites. Sometimes they feel so compelled to feed as close to me through the internet as they possibly can and send me images of their genitalia. Some of these pictures are poorly shot.

This is a huge amount of information and trust that thousands of people lend to me on the daily and I take that seriously. I try to be straightforward about how I’d like to approach the worker/client relationship and not mislead anybody outright about my role in the interaction, but I also have a lot of fun making use of my generally warm and friendly and open-minded personality and allow people to ask sometimes invasive or insensitive questions about, usually trans healthcare somehow but always a slightly different question somehow with patience, understanding that I’ve been used to this language for my entire adolescent and adult life and that I have selected into a position where I am “meeting” people, frequently, for whom I am the first trans person they have interacted with. For my brothers and sisters and more I owe them the grace of Madonnaesque patience. The amount of times I’ve heard some variant of “I just wanted to let you know I’m straight and I’m into you…. What do you think of that?” Like… what do you expect me to think of that????

But if one man finds himself, if one questioning person looks at me and feels not only the type of attracted that says “Oh I want to fuck him” but also the attraction that says “Oh… I want to BE him” I will have done my job. And supportive, loving, adoring, encouraging comments outnumber the offensive or ill-mannered ones by soooo much. I know it’s really hard for a lot of people, especially millennial content creators I’ve seen who have experienced hate trains and hate waves, (I haven’t really because I try not to say very much controversial stuff on twitter, at the expense of not really feeling like I weigh in at all on some issues that are really important to me, that I may be able to erm, influence my audience about I guess) to filter out negative comments but aside from when I’m live on CB, I haven’t really run into that problem too much.

I read it, I feel it, I can usually let it go. I feel well equipped to manage a number of questions about surgery, language and semantics, identify and trans manners and respect, chasers and how to try to date trans people ethically, accepting shifts in sexuality and not externalizing fear and pain about that onto trans people or invalidating them due to it, my favorite. Genuinely, I’m experienced with this one and turning people gay is my KINK that’s my SHIT I LOVE that it gets me HORNY have a whole life changing realization for me. Yeah I did that. You’ll never forget me now. You’ll learn so much more about yourself and the word now. That’s so exciting. I’ve liberated you. And I will liberate more. Insanity!!!! That’s so powerful!!!! I love it!!! I love my job!!!!!

[deusvervemakesgames]

Project RBH Devlog 0076

I completely forgot last week to post the build for everyone! Whoops! And now that I am once again gainfully employed, I still won’t be posting it until later today. Additionally, my time to work on the project throughout the week has decreased on account of the whole job thing.

To reiterate on last week, I’m going back into the design headspace to try and figure out where I’m moving forward from here. Specifically I wanted to think about what kind of status affects would work out best for the kind of game that I’m creating.

Until next Devlog!

-DeusVerve

DevLogs like these are brought to you by Patron(s) like Haelerin!

Support me on Patreon to get Early Access to builds!

[gayhoediaz]

hey, nie 👀 did you know that archive of our own's parents organisation is called Organization for Transformative Works?

anyway, i digress, that was not the point of this ask. the point of this ask is to inform you that not only are you not allowed to change the ages of your characters, but you must immediately stop entertaining ridiculous notions such as saying that any character is gainfully employed as a barista in a coffee shop, unless it says so on their fandom wiki. or that characters are in love when they've only met once.

you are spreading misinformation and are contributing this problematic new trend we see online where people use their imagination and create entertaining narratives for others to read for free.

AND WHERE WILL THIS END? WILL YOU STOP AT AGING UP TOMMY KINARD OR WILL YOU GO SO FAR AS TO SAY THAT KIRK AND SPOCK FUCKED EVERY SINGLE NIGHT THEY SPENT ON THE ENTERPRISE TOGETHER?!!!!!!

frankly, i am Concerned. now, your ignorance is understandable, but maybe you should go watch more tiktok and educate yourself about this issue?

[probablygayattorneys]

When I was but a wee little lad, I truly don’t know how old I was but less than twelve, I saw Hotel Dusk on the shelf at my local Walmart and was intrigued so I saved up my Christmas money so I could get it.

When I went to the store on the 26th to get it, I counted out my money carefully and saw that I had just enough left over that I could also get some Pringles and a soda! (You see at this time I was too young to understand the concept of sales tax.)

So when I got to the counter, I was able to get the game but I had to put the chips and the soda back, and I remember this vividly because it was one of my first experiences really feeling truly embarrassed in public because I was holding up the line and I just didn’t have enough, even though I had saved up and carefully calculated…

But now…

Returning to Hotel Dusk as an adult who is gainfully employed (as a hotelier, no less!)

I am finally able to achieve justice for that little mortified child who just wanted a treat to go along with their game.

[enam3l]

love, lola / chapter seven / banana and the band (5.6k)

Summer is in full swing. As pregnancy occupies your time, Eddie finds his own groove. But will it lead him to a future without you?

a/n: happy ending eventually, slow burn, will they won't they, a lil angsty but never mean eddie! tw: if pregnancy details and adoption

ok guys if you hadn't been wondering where this story was going, i think this chapter might give you a clue! we are really getting going now.

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!

comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.

The summer of '86 was so far, looking pretty sweet for Eddie Munson; a striking contrast to the events of the spring. On top of being a high school graduate, Eddie was now gainfully employed at The Hideout. Once graduating, for the first time in his life, he'd found himself swimming in free time. No school to waste his time, his drug dealing hat hung up and unfortunately, Corroded Coffin disbanded. The other guys occupied with summer jobs or preparations for leaving Hawkins behind for college. Adventures which were not on the horizon for the likes of himself.

Then, there were only so many times he could interrupt Steve and Robin at Family Video. Eddie had already been scolded for messing with Steve's precious returns piles and Keith was threatening a Munson-ban. As for the kids, they already had so much of their childhood stolen, Eddie wanted them to have the summer to reclaim some. The lanky presence of a twenty year old former drug dealer didn't aid that - which had became painfully obvious when he'd been mistaken for Dustin's dad by the shop assistant at 7/11. And of course there was you. 

Now, you did have the same endless free time as Eddie, yet he was terrified of imposing. Whereas previously, spending countless hours together wasting away the summer months had been second nature, it was no longer. The feelings Eddie first noticed when he was fourteen were bubbling back up to the surface with vengeance. During adolescence it had been easy to coexist with the love he held because being in your warm presence was all he'd known. The blissful ignorance of youth meant he hadn't quite grappled with the overwhelming nature of love. Then during those peak years of realisation from eighteen onwards, you hadn't been there.

The distance college provided was Eddie's saving grace. Allowing him to compartmentalise his feelings towards you and store them in a locked box in the attic of his mind. Two years later, you've now returned. Bursting through the attic hatch, wielding bolt cutters to break open the industrial chains he'd put on that dusty box to keep it sealed. Unwittingly you've now unleashed a lifetime of all consuming love. The kind that has Eddie no longer knowing how to be normal around you. Bubbles fizz in his stomach in your presence, pressure rising to the point he fears the cork will pop and every soppy thought will flow from his mouth. Like a lovesick teenager he feels his palms sweat as his uncontrollable hand itches to take yours. So if anything, Eddie needs something to occupy not only his time but his mind. Something to prevent the impulses that zap through him. 

So that's where Eddie found that for once, the universe offered him a sprinkle of luck. On a summer evening as he nursed a beer, longingly watching you twirl around with Robin, he was propositioned. From behind the bar, Carl, the owner of The Hideout croaked. 

'So, Munson, now you're a free man, take it you been finding yourself with a lotta time on ya hands?'

Eddie scoffs and nods, he doesn't know the half hour of it. Yesterday he took apart and reassembled Wayne's radio just for something to do - it now only plays stations in what they think is Portuguese. 

'Well, can always do with extra hands round here, man...' Carl shrugs. 

Eddie whips his head round, raising an eyebrow. 

'Carl, let's be serious, we both know I am not twenty one, right?' 

Carl cracks up. 

'No shit, kid. You don't think I can tell a Sharpie job on an ID?'

They both laugh, he'd lost the flawless looking fake ID you'd made for him whilst you'd been away. Resulting in him feebly attempting forgery. He quickly realised that fake IDs and forgery were not something he could add to his portfolio of criminal services a long with dealing. 

'Not gonna get your ass shut down for having someone underage kid working?' Eddie asks. Carl shakes his head. 

'Hell no, you think they send agents to check in at this shit hole? Pretty sure we're on file as going out of business a decade ago. Nah, man, your only problem would be Chief Hopper and he'd let it slide for you, right?'

Eddie mulls it over. It's the best offer he's been given... the only offer he's been given. He could get a few drinks for free, maybe use the stage and equipment to practice, see a few gigs. Do anything other than obsess over you. 

'Yeah, yeah, Hopper would be cool. What would you have me doing? Need some muscle on the door,' Eddie smirks, flexing his lean arms like Popeye. 

'Sure, I'll call you if the stray cats outside get rowdy... I was thinking more like the bar. Means I can stay in the office, means the girls we already got on the bar have someone to look out for em, plus you know all the wiring and shit better than me. Can sort all that out for the bands?'

Carl sees the smile spread across Eddie's face and offers out a hand. 

'We got a deal, Munson?'

Eddie's ringed hand grips Carl's aged tattooed one. 

'Fuck yeah.'  

By August you're four months pregnant and every morning is a nauseating guessing game even without the morning sickness. 

Once the creeping morning light wakes you, a ritual that started at the beginning of summer, starts. Five deep breaths, eyes squeeze shut, then you raise your duvet, open your eyes and see if over night your stomach has miraculously blown up like a balloon. Then you convince yourself that sight deceives you and obsessively probe your stomach to see if it feels rounder than last night. All this plotting and secrecy was pointless if your body betrayed you, the bump appearing and giving it away like a pointing neon sign. But thankfully, the universe had granted you a sliver of luck and the bump was barely bigger than the aftermath of a large dinner. Nothing anyone would notice. Nothing Eddie would notice. 

Still, there were other factors you constantly feared would give up the game. You wondered if anyone noticed your reluctance to enter the pool all summer. Both Gran's and Steve's remained untouched by yourself despite numerous days spent lounging around it with your friends. 

'The baby can't drown when it's inside you,' Steve had snorted. 

You knew that, having approached pregnancy as you would a school test. Meticulously revising in attempt to make pregnancy appear as something to learn about and not something happening to you. Swimming was listed as a pregnancy safe exercise. But you're sure the subjects tested weren't in a pool with a gaggle of sun drunk teenage boys and a lanky best friend who insisted on hurling you around. You don't believe it would be best pleased to find itself wobbling around on Eddie's shoulders as you wrestled Robin on top of Steve. Plus, wearing a swim suit that exposed your stomach, highlighting it to the world, felt like tempting fate. And a shallow lovesick part of you didn't want Eddie to see you in a bikini, skin exposed, unless you looked perfect. 

The other glaring giveaway was you weren't drinking and what was summer without boozy evenings with friends? This all became even trickier now Eddie was behind the bar at The Hideout. No longer could you pretend there was rum hiding in your coke when you were ordering from him. Luckily, Steve was a true friend and stepped up. A true friend who had never drank so much in his life. Making sure to always drink your decoy or order on your behalf. You were glad Eddie had got the job, had something to motivate him and get up for. The downside was now he was the Hideout's resident eye candy. Every night out you were forced to witnessed the girls flocking to the bar and pawing at him. Big lashes batting at him, asking for their fourth drink in the last hour; pouting that they'd spilt their previous glass. Infuriatingly, despite being a goof, Eddie was painstakingly charming; something he failed to realise. His natural charisma oozing as he smirked at the girls needing a replacement, 

'Oh it just fell out of your hand? Well we can't be having that, doll. 'Pose you want the same again?'

You watched the girls fluster, knees buckling and not just from the booze and heels, a reaction you'd had a plenty. It only grew worse once they found out he was talented eye-candy as they caught him on stage doing sound checks or providing back up when a band's guitarist had one too many.  The kicker was the female clientele of the Hideout were exactly what you'd imagined his type to be. Buxom heavy metal cover girls with smouldering eyes and a music taste much more in tune with his. A lethal combination of heartbreak, jealousy and fury bubbled inside, only aided by raging pregnancy hormones and again without alcohol to numb the pain. Your only comfort was Steve's protective reaction where he would slide you a warm hand to squeeze. 

That warm hand was there again when you finally caved and went to get your first scan.  Admittedly, you should've already had one but you had buried yourself in denial. Not wanting to hear that tiny pulsing which would cause you to crash land into reality. But at twenty weeks, you knew you had to, it would be irresponsible not to. The adoption agency you had been in contact with needed to know a due date and ideally a scan for prospective parents. It made you feel a little queasy, the thought of the now banana sized being inside you getting advertised. A little grainy picture used to grab the attention of the highest bidder, like a used goods flier pinned to a bulletin board at the grocery store. What could you do though? That was the process, this is what you had to do.

The appointment came round on the 22nd August, a Friday which was far too sunny when you felt so blue. Not even the air conditioning of Steve's BMW could prevent the sweat that beaded on your forehead; a mixture of anxiety and the abnormally warm summer. The car was silent in anticipation, thick with the looming sense of how real the situation you'd gotten yourself in was about to become. You stare at the backs of your moral supporters' heads. Gran staring wistfully at the blur of orange, blue and green outside. Steve's gaze fixated on the road as his knuckles whitened with his grip on the wheel. The blaring WHAM! tape a stark contrast to the somber mood. 

Steve's hand gripped yours in support as you reclined on the bed in anticipation for the nurse. Gran's firm on your shoulder. The two people who you knew were going to keep you grounded until this blip in your life was over. The nervous energy was interrupted by the chirping of the nurse. 

'Hi, Miss Y/L/N?' you nod, 'good morning! How we feeling today? Excited? Nervous?' 

You could tell she was good at her job, had mastered the art of talking to ease people. 

'How about you, Mom or I guess Grandma now? And Dad to be?' 

Gran winces. Steve's breath hitches. Oh crap, you think, I'm about to foil up this poor woman's routine. One top of that, the message that no one was going to become anything other than what they already were, clearly hadn't been passed on. The three of you look between each other grimacing. Your voice croaks nervously. 

'Oh urm, this is actually my Gran... and he's not the father...'

Steve gives an awkwardly cheerful salute 'Just a good friend.'

The nurse clearly looks as if she's about to say something nice but you have one final blow. 

'And, urm...' you squirm on the squeaking bed, 'I'm not keeping it. The baby - sorry. They're getting adopted.' 

For the first time, her kind smile falters as she flusters on her word. 

'Oh - oh god. I'm so sorry! There's usually a note and - oh, my apologies... well... shall we make sure they're all okay in there?'

You nod, making sure to put on a big smile to ease the nurse so she can get back into her rhythm. Carefully you roll your top up to reveal your belly... or lack there of. 

'I... don't really have a bump? Is that normal? Are they okay?' 

The nurse is quick to reassure, 'Don't worry! Bump size is different for everyone. Nothing to worry about but we'll double check, alright?'

Both Gran and Steve offer another soothing squeeze. Brandishing the gel, you’re given a warning.

‘Okay, hon, now this will be cold. You ready?’

You nod but the response is quickly cut off as the thick gel hits your stomach like ice sludge. An involuntary squeal escapes. Steve let’s out a snigger at your response and is met by glares from every woman in the room.

‘It’s not that bad, surely?’ He attempts to crack. 

The unamused look on your face should’ve warned him not to push it. Quickly, your free hand swipes up a glob of the gel and slathers it on Steve’s exposed forearm. The squeak that escapes him is far more girlish than you ever could’ve produced. You smirk at his frown. How was this the response from a man who has been mauled by inter-dimensional creatures? Gran and the nurse cackle as he untwines his fingers from yours to rub at the frozen patch of skin.

‘Ok… point proven,’ he sulks. 

After reapplying the gel, you all watch with bated breath as the scanner makes contact with your stomach. The smooth surface glides over the skin, searching. No one in the room dares to exhale. Now, your mind races with potential problems. You feel foolish for not being more concerned about the lack of bump. Despite everything, despite the colossal detour this baby has taken your life on, you want it to be there. You want it to be okay. 

The sonogram screen looks nothing but like static to you. Jarring flickers of black and white. Nothing your eyes can recognise as a life form. It's all silent. 

Then finally, a soft pulsing begins to echo out of the tinny speakers. The two hands digging into your skin finally relax a little. 

'There we go,' the nurse beams, 'looks like we have a little burrower on our hands.' 

The image stills and she pauses over the right spot. It's not exactly a breathtaking picture of what grows inside you. The edges are fuzzy, it's abstract. Like an impressionist painting of life. 

'C-could you point it out... I'm not sure where they are on screen,' your voice is laced with embarrassment. As if not being able to instantly recognise the baby made you a bad mother. But I'm not a mother, I'm not going to be you have to remind yourself. 

A blue gloved finger outlines a section on screen. 

'Oh,' you gasp. It's so obvious now she shows you. 'A little banana.' The internal musing manages to pass your lips and three sets of eyes look at you confused. 

'That's what the book said,' you stutter, 'by twenty weeks they'd be the size of a banana...' 

The nurse chuckles along with Gran as Steve remains fascinated by the little wiggling form on screen. 

'Yeah, that's about right,' the nurse adds, 'although I would say this is quite a little banana, but...'

She scans back over again to be sure, 'a very healthy little one!'

Gran leans presses a kiss to the side of your head. 

'I knew it, it's all okay in there. You've done good,' as it did when you were small, her voice still soothes you like nothing else. 

The question you've been dreading finally comes. 

'So, Y/N, would you like to know the baby's gender?' The nurse smiles. Before you can stop yourself and compose a more succinct answer you blurt out,

'No!' 

You're met back with surprised and alarmed blinking eyes. The nurse, Steve and Gran looking between each other to work out what just happened. 

'The adoption agency don't require it. Just as long as they're healthy. That's all, that's fine,' you attempt to reason. Gran tucks a finger under your chin, her sharp eyes analysing your own. 

'Are you sure you don't want to know darling?' She drawls out the 'sure' for emphasis. 

'I'm sure. We're done.' 

In the car home you feel embarrassed by your sharpness over the gender. Again you travel in awkward silence. One of the more exciting parts of pregnancy for most, just an uncomfortable experience for you. The open window causes the printed sonogram picture to flutter between your fingers. The motion causing the black and white haze to dance around like it had on screen. As if your banana size baby was hopping around. You wonder if they will start to bop around inside you, the nurse said they should start to move anytime now. Will they stay a little burrower or would they become a relentless little wriggler? Eddie's baby would definitely be a wriggler. You pinch your thigh for that thought. Thoughts like that now intrude daily, as if your own mind is trying to torture you. It's why you didn't want to know the gender.

The last thing you needed was another sliver of information that could paint a fantasy for you. Your imagination would only take the gender and run with it. It would allow you to truly picture the baby. What they'd look like, who they'd be or all the things they could've been had they been Eddie's. It feels cruel to say and it's why you didn't explain in the hospital room, but you don't want to humanise the baby. The more you pretend this is nothing more than a project or a transaction, the easier this will be. Already your heart hurts too much. 

Over at The Hideout, Eddie squints in concentration, pushing escaping strands of hair out of his face. Sweat drips down his neck, skin exposed due to the ponytail. The stage lights are hot on him as he toys with the wiring for the amps and speaker system.  All day he's spent setting the place up for a big gig. A few repeat guests supporting a once regular band that had gathered a lot of heat. Setting this night up made Eddie, for the first time, feel important and valued. A sensation that sent electric bolts through his body and not in the same way as earlier when an old wire sparked.

For a rundown bar in a dead end town, The Hideout had garnered a cult venue status for metal and rock bands dotted between Hawkins and Indianapolis. The headliners Kraven were familiar to Eddie, having played a few of the same shows as Corroded Coffin. More rock than metal but still good, very good. They had garnered a big hype, getting shows at real venues in the city and those getting rave reviews in magazines and the paper. Eddie had been pretty surprised they'd been down to come back to The Hideout for the end of summer event he'd organised. Carl had been impressed with his ability with the bar, quick to let Eddie become his right hand man. The ultimate approval was now getting granted permission to throw his very own event. 

'Shit, bro. You fuckin set all this shit up already?' Taylor, the lead of Kraven appeared beside Eddie. Tanned skin littered with tattoos and messy waved bleach white hair; the perfect image of a rockstar. 

'Um yeah, pretty much. It was no problem...' Eddie shrugs. 

'Wicked, thanks dude. So, you still playin yourself?' Taylor asks casually as he strolls over to his guitar. Fingers artfully tuning it. 

'No, not really. Band kinda broke up. They're all off to college and shit.' 

Eddie feels a little embarrassed under Taylor's confident gaze. Embarrassed to admit his band had fallen apart to someone whose was thriving. 

'Damn fuckin shame!' Taylor bellows into the microphone. His impressive voice echoing through the empty venue. 'You guys were pretty sick, y'know? Especially you bro. Fucking shredder!'

For a different reason now, Eddie blushes with embarrassment. But this time because someone like Taylor thinks he's talented. Thinks he hadn't just wasted his time with music. 

'Oh, shit, well... thanks! Means a lo-'

'Wanna play with us tonight?' Taylor casually asks like it's nothing. He must notice the bafflement in Eddie's face so he continues. 

'We're a man down. Lead guitarist ain't here. Was gonna just cover myself but... dunno, think it would pretty hardcore if you filled in?' 

Eddie feels his jaw drop; now he's really flattered. The thought is nerve wracking but god, did he miss performing. 

'Fuck... are you sure? I mean I don't even know your stuff?'

Taylor scoffs, 'Fuck yeah. Look you'd be doing us a favour and you're good, you'll pick it up easy over practice.'

The electricity running through Eddie increases tenfold. Who is he to refuse a guy as cool as Taylor? Plus, a desperate part in the back of his mind whispers a fantasy of you swooning seeing him on stage again for the first time in years. 

As the stage lights came on, Eddie desperately resisted the temptation to rub his eyes; now lined in perfectly smudged black kohl. The Kraven look was a little different to Corroded Coffin's, more Studio 54 than biker bar. The rest of the band all exposed glittering skin, tight leather and mesh. After rehearsals, Eddie had gone back to the house to rummage for anything that fit the brief. His chosen look of skin tight shredded black jeans, home cut vest and leather jacket was met with approval. 

'Let me just add the finishing touches,' the drummer's girlfriend had said. 

She sat Eddie down, hovering over his lap as she artfully smudged the liner. Her eyes fixated on his own whilst smearing a layer of glitter over it. The intimacy of his pre-show rehearsal caused his imagination to picture you instead. When he closed his eyes it was you straddling his lap, soft fingertips sweeping on his eyelids and wishing him words of encouragement. Just as he had in the dressing room, Eddie stood on stage wondering what you'd think. Would you like this new look? Would you find it hot? He knows you like Bowie. Then there were other concerns, you hadn't seen him play since you'd left for New York. He's pretty sure he became a much better musician since then. Losing himself in Corroded Coffin in a desperate attempt to fill the void you left. Eddie prays you like this. Prays you enjoy watching him perform. 

The spiralling thoughts are knocked out of Eddie as Taylor strums the first note on his guitar and the performance begins. 

When the stage lights illuminate the figures on stage, you cough up your swig of cranberry juice. There is one guitarist up there who you definitely recognise. You'd arrived with the gang earlier, excited for the evening Eddie had worked hard organising. He'd miraculously left out the part where he would be performing himself. Steve pats your back from your choking whilst the rest of the group gawp. 

'What the fuck?!' Robin shouts, 'is that Eddie?'

You nod feebly, still speechless. This band looked like a real band, Eddie looked like a star. Even from where you all huddled in your usual booth you could see him oozing effortless swagger. 

'Did you know he was playing tonight?' Nancy asks in bafflement. 

'No,' you reply meekly, 'not a clue...'

You hadn't seen Eddie play since you left for college. It appeared in the meantime he'd gotten even better. Argyle was up and rallying you all. 

'Dudes, this is fuckin sweet! Come on we gotta go up there!' 

Everyone was quick to file out the booth, weaving into the crowd to get closer to the stage. As if Eddie's guitar was a siren's call, you found yourself following them until a tug at your sleeve pulls you back. 

Steve frowns, 'what are you doing? Are you sure that's safe?'

'I don't want to miss it! It'll look weird if I'm not there as well,' you're sure your voice whines like a teenager. 

'Yeah but...' Steve's eyes full of worry flicker down to your stomach. 

'It'll be okay, you'll stay with me right?' A dramatic sigh signals you've won the argument. 

'Yes, fine, of course I will.'

Steve firmly grips your hand, shielding you as he pushes through the crowd until he finds the others. 

Only a few rows back from the stage, you now see Eddie fully. 

Framing his dark chocolate eyes are smudges of eyeliner and glitter that reflects the colourful lights. The make up makes his eyes even more intense. The two orbs seem to find you in the crowd and light up. Their magnetism making you feel like you're the only one in the room. His ringed fingers move faster and in more intricate ways than you've ever seen him do before. Fuck, Eddie was always a talented musician but he'd improved tenfold in the last two years. Not just him, however, the whole band look professional. All the members in perfect harmony. The songs not just covers or tunes thrown together in a garage, they're hits. You have no idea how Eddie has ended up a part of them, whoever they are but they're electrifying.  

It's not just you who thinks so. The whole crowd moves like a wave, losing themselves in the music. In the corner of your eye you see Robin, Jonathan and Argyle's hair whipping round wildly. The sheer energy in the room makes the air thick and sticky. You can't help the way your eyes fixate on the beads of sweat trickling down Eddie's thick neck, over his collar bone, past his pecks and disappearing under his vest. This was torturous. As the band stop whilst the lead singer talks, you watch as Eddie removes his leather jacket. Strong but lean arms revealed. 

When the band start back up a gasp sticks in your throat as he begins a solo. Damp curls falling as he concentrates on the notes he plays. Veins flexing under the taught porcelain skin of his arms. Like the rest of the crowd you scream. A family of bats dancing. You're unable to ignore the volume of female voices joining in on the cheering. Your blood boils with envy that others should be looking at your Eddie and thinking thoughts that slip out when you're alone in bed. You can't believe he's real. Yet, he is and painfully, he isn't yours. There's a room full of women here who he could go home with. Who aren't his best friend. Who aren't pregnant. 

When they finally finish and file off the stage, Eddie's heart is still going like a jackhammer. Adrenaline from performing still coursing through his veins. Holy fuck he'd missed this. The other factor causing his pulse to race is raw jealousy. The entire show his eyes burnt at the spot where Steve's arm was wrapped tight around you. Large hand possessively gripping your shoulder, tucking you in beside him. That is not right, Eddie fumes, Steve isn't your protector or comfort, that's his role. 

Congratulatory claps on his back shake Eddie out of his sulk. The guys from Kraven flocking round him. 

'Eddie, bro that was fucking hardcore!'

'You're a lifesaver, dude, honestly!'

'You were on fire out there, my man!'

Eddie's cheeks flush with the praise from people he can't believe like him - think that he is talented. 

'Oh, urm, thank you!' He stutters, 'thanks for letting me play! Look, I'm just gonna to see my friends, caught them in the crowd. I'll see you in a minute?' 

The guys nod. 

'No worries, bro. Just come back to the dressing room when you're done!' Taylor shouts after him as Eddie throws a thumbs up. Quick to run back into the bar and find you. 

It takes Eddie a matter of seconds to spot you in the crowd. He's certain even if this were Madison Square Garden and he was blindfolded, he'd find you. 

'Sweetheart!' He bellows over the chattering crowds and pulsing speakers. 

Instantly your head whips round to see him, stood there in all his sweat covered glory. You're quick to slip out of Steve's arms and run into Eddie's. 

'Ah I'm sweaty I don't wanna get you-' his protests are cut off as you slam into him. Oblivious and uncaring of his damp skin, you wrap your arms around his neck. Instinctively your fingers finding the damp curls at the back of his neck. He indulges and wraps his own tightly round your waist. 

'Teddy, you were so fucking amazing,' you pull back so you can swat at his exposed chest from the sagging vest. 'Why didn't you tell me you were playing!'

Eddie chuckles at your childish frown and pout. His now calloused finger reaches to smooth down the line in your furrowed brow. 

'Wasn't planned, sweets. They were a man down so I guess surprise...'

You let your fingers linger on his chest. Running your tips round over the hot smooth skin, a move that feels too intimate but you can't resist. It takes all of Eddie's strength not to groan at the feeling. He wonders if you feel how hard his heart beats under your touch. Wonders if you realise you're the cause. 

'You were amazing. I mean, you always were but... now. That was something else! How could you keep that from me!'

His cheeks flush at your compliments. They feel so much more meaningful leaving your lips. 

'You really think so?' He mumbles, 'guess I had a lot of time on my hands without you...'

The words pierce your heart. You knew the feeling, days became endless without Eddie. You didn't realise he'd felt the same through those two years. Pulling him back into a hug, you bury your face into the crook of his neck. It smells like sweat, smoke and his aftershave but it's all Eddie. It's home. 

'I'm sorry,' you whisper. Your lips move against his skin and he lets himself pretend it's almost a kiss. He closes his eyes in bliss having you close like this. One arm pulling you tight against him, fingers trailing up your spine. The other wrapped round your shoulder, his tired hands running through your soft locks. Eddie sees how far he can push his luck as he presses his lips and nose to the crown of your head. Inhaling your smell whilst lightly pressing a kiss. 

Back in the dressing room, Eddie is surprised to find the band gathered as if they're holding a meeting. A bizarre contrast to see such animated people wear such serious expressions. 

'Eddie, hey! Come sit,' Taylor waves him over, pointing to a chair.  

He sits down and looks around at the other guys awkwardly. All their eyes on him. It feels like a very strange AA meeting. 

'So... you guys good? Happy with the show?' He asks to try and break the tension. 

Keith the drummer chirps up. 

'Yeah bro, we're good, real good. The show was sick. That's what we wanted to talk about actually...'

Keith nods to Taylor as if to signal for him to go on. 

'Look, Eddie, I'll be real with you. Kraven, we're doing well. It's not been announced yet but... we're signed. We've been working on a debut album for a few months...'

Eddie's eyes widen. It does make sense, he wonders why they hadn't said though. 

'Shit, guys, that's awesome. Well done-'

Taylor cuts Eddie off. 

'That's not all... we may have come with ulterior motives. Our lead guitarist, tonight wasn't just a one off. He quit...'

Eddie's mouth forms a little 'O'. 

'He decided going pro, it wasn't for him. It's cool. So we've been looking for a new lead. Then you called offering the gig and it was like, fuckin' serendipity. We all remembered how hardcore you were with your band.'

The rest of the band nod whilst Eddie's brain feels like it's about to malfunction. 

'W-what are you guys saying?' He stumbles out. 

'Well... we knew you were talented. Then tonight just proved our theory correct. Eddie, bro... we want you to join the band.'

For the first time in his life, Eddie Munson might be speechless. The silence is filled then by Spike their bass player. 

'I know this sounds fuckin batshit brother but we were so good out there, together. You're better than this place, too talented to just be managing a bar in a random ass town. You could be doing the real thing with us, man. We've been out in Cali recording...'

Eddie scans the room, at the pleading faces before him. This feels like a dream. This can't be happening, shit like this is from movies, they don't happen to Eddie the freak Munson. And California? That's like a million miles away. He's barely left the state. It's a million miles away from you. From that New York plan he'd wishfully proposed. But then, what else does he really have? He can't just tag along on your life forever. Taylor coughs, interrupting his freak out. 

'So, what do you say, dude... wanna be Kraven's lead guitar?'

tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy @sadbitchfangirl @fluffybunnyu @big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife

[emperorclaudiusofficial]

many years ago I told a friend, only partially in jest, that I was planning to go to law school because I tend to fall for artsy types & would consequently need a job that would allow me to support a wife. quick PSA to any starving-artist dykes out there: I am now (a) a lawyer (b) gainfully employed and (c) available 👀

[pilcrowtudinous]

venting

because i don't know where else to put it.

drove to meet up with my dad (fine) and sibling (irritating) for brunch. spent half the way there crying because i got thinking (again) about the pocket friend who passed away a couple of weeks ago.

got through brunch with only some exasperation and sibling and normal conversation with dad. talked about how depressing it it about the fact that i'm probably never going to be able to afford to buy a house in the city i was born and have lived 95% of my life. or even just rent a place without a flatmate and with capacity to have a child. or just rent a place where i can have a pet.

and knowing that a lot of this stuff is extra limited by my partner having not been gainfully employed since 2017.

and then finding out that my younger stepsibling is having a second baby. that means that all three of my stepsiblings have two kids and at least one pet and own their own houses in this city and it's just the worst kind of pain.

and every time i think about it i get so fucking sad. like what is the point. of anything. i work so, so hard. i do a job that benefits society. and i have so little to show for it. and even then. everyone i work with has some kind of combination of either owning their own house or having a pet or having kids or having extensive travel experience.

and so i drove home and cried the whole way home about all those things.

and now i'm home and am just so goddamn sad. so so sad. and i don't know where to channel all this energy because how do you throw out onto your social media channels 'I Am Incredibly Bitter And Resentful Of Other People's Fortune' energy.

[foster-the-world]

Gainfully employed

Job is going well in that the people seem nice, the ten minute walk is a dream, and the work seems like it will be interesting and manageable. Job is boring in that there is nothing to do until someone has time to train me. They gave me an hour worth of reading and the rest of the day I stared at my phone. They said it could take a month until they “set me up to do anything.” It’s painfully boring but also exactly what I expected -although a month is longer then I expected. No one knew I was coming yesterday. They handed me a Lysol package and told me to clean a desk area. I wish I could bring my computer and get my family logistic stuff done - I have a three page document of things to do for the family - like always. Trying some of it on my phone but it’s not working. I am thankful I have my phone to browse. My husband said when he started twenty years ago it took them a long time to get him internet on his work computer and nothing on his phone. At lunch he went to kinkos to print out NYT articles to read at his desk. I could even use my iPhone kindle to read books. I’d rather do actual work but this will do for now.

[widespot]

"I've heard a lot of bands break up because they can't learn to live together, so it's a good thing we've all had practice." "I figure the more the merrier and many hands make light work." "You've never had to follow my sister Dixie in the bathroom!"

Helen better not go preying on elders, Daisy thinks. She has River now, she can stop eyeing up every guy she meets.

"Yes, the good words y'all put in for me are paying off! I am gainfully employed! We can start planning the wedding." "And the band name." "Yes, yes, and the band name."

"Ack! Nope, we'll have to get somebody in to fix this." "Or just get a better computer. A trust fund means not having to mend or make do." "Bite your tongue."

"I give to you and you give to me true love, true love."

[studymustelid]

April 25th at 10:27 p.m. Hello all!

It is I, everyone's favorite health data studying mustelid (or something of that sort)

My classes are coming to a close soon which is really great for my brain! All As this semester!

I feel kind of full in there sometimes, like I'm at capacity and deviating from routine or exploring will kind of blow up the remaining shred of brain-power I have left. It's like that meme with the ball

I'll have a little more capacity for thought in about a year which is nice though. Last semester and the beginning of this one, my father chastised me a bit for not taking 4 classes (which requires dean approval) but

1) I had to drop a class last semester (my first semester)

2) 4 classes would have honestly rendered me nonfunctional

I think *part of it* is that I'm honestly a much better student (in the studious sense of the word, I study better and more actively absorb information) when I'm controlling more facets of my life -- when the pandemic happened I insisted on moving back to my apartment and despite the general lack of social interaction being kind of insane for my head I was significantly better for it.

But the other part of it is very obviously that I am in grad school, in a technical field, learning a lot of new things! My dad has a masters but it is not in a super technical field (a masters is a masters) and he mentioned that it should be easy to take 4 classes because I took 5 - 6 at times in undergrad and grad school is "mostly writing and talking"

which...eh, I guess. Reasonable amount of programming too though, at the very least sub-par technical skills. Anyways, basically AHHHHHH!!

I still have to finish off grading which is tiring, but apparently! Apparently! Both my professor and the administration are chill will me leaving the country for a couple weeks lol. So that's nice. I'll be a TA until I graduate it seems!

I do sometimes feel rather self-conscious about not having a real job or not doing anything (despite the fact that I am in fact, in graduate school and doing things as we speak!).

Especially since all but two of my friends are working (some in a professional capacity, some while waiting for grad school). I think if I were at a more traditional program and not living at home this feeling would be lessened a smidge, but as of now it kind of remains and likely will until I'm gainfully employed.

On the bright side, I'll have my practicum in the fall semester and it'll likely be a paid internship!

I do feel like being a little overachiever would probably leave me falling apart but I am really tired of having no brain power while feeling bored with nothing to do, so ideally I'll have no brain power AND feel busy lol

[hanasnx]

DADDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY m’sore, you were so rough last night :(

okay so now that I’ve piqued your attention, I’m inquiring to know more about which category of the opposite sex inspires the most sexual arousal and mate attraction within you the most by the specific dressing and aesthetic clothing choices they employ. Please sir, mull over this carefully before you attempt to respond. I am gainfully grateful for your response.

are you asking my type? bcos emo girls and blonde tall boys are my kryptonite. i think ive answered this question before somewhere in the "indy lore" tag. but if didnt quite get it, lmk

[owlhousetarot]

Hot DAMN it took a while to put the Moon out! Thank you for bearing with me—I had a job hunt to worry about, which made it hard to dedicate mental energy to art. But good news: I am now gainfully employed! My job is gonna take up a lot of my time, but I think paradoxically it’ll make it easier to dedicate my free time to this project (though I make no promises)

Next up is the Sun, and then… an announcement ;)

[broodsys]

little recount of the year for me. some heavy stuff, mostly positive tho

so like, this time last year i had just gotten my bachelors and was fairly confident i'd be all gainfully employed in no time. alas. remote jobs became steadily more scarce and the work gap on my resume grew steadily longer. and it's also been a hard year. i lost my brother. i lost my cat. i stopped smoking regularly - now it's maybe ~1-2 times a month. but comparing that to where i was for a long time, where it was abt once every two hours, i'm uh, more than satisfied with this progress.

after i stopped smoking sm i really regained a lot of my creative energy. got back into dai in an intense way. got back into being an active member of fandom for the first time in years. recently got back into rping.

i've made a number of friends recently and i'm very, very grateful - also grateful that i'm now at the point where i can give enough of myself to sustain friendships. i fell out of touch with a lot of ppl while smoking bc i was just too numb and weird in conversations and out of it.

oh, i started drawing. like i've always doodled here and there but this is the first time i've let myself actually focus on learning how to draw. made ample use of my tablet, although it's slowed down a lot with it being winter and my joints being fucky.

i'm incredibly proud of my bigfic, too. the length is impressive but it's more the content - i think it's the best story i've ever written tbh. and it's still ongoing, which is exciting.

overall it has been a strange, tumultuous year for me. and for everyone, ofc, so much has been happening in the world, but im not even going to touch on that rn. i still very rarely get out aside from grocery shopping and going to the doctor, but i'm managing the relative isolation better than i thought i would without being high all the time.

and im finding that i've become a lot more mature. a lot more willing to have uncomfortable conversations with people, to talk openly about boundaries, to be open about my feelings and reactions, to tolerate and appreciate differing opinions and points of view.

31 now and in a good place even that i'm still living at home which is far from ideal (bc i don't get along with my family, not bc of my age and shame/stigma around that) and even tho i'm still unemployed and that's both very stressful and embarrassing however much i try to talk myself down from the latter reaction. but overall i'm happy with where i am in terms of my personal growth and my day-to-day comfort with myself and my life

[hipsofsteel]

tomorrow is my first day of being actually gainfully employed (its a seasonal job but hey), and lord this girl is nervous.

not so much about the work because its training day tomorrow, but because i am the proud owner of a stick shift car now and i have to drive it into the nearest metro, almost all the way to the international airport also im not sure what im packing for lunch

[lesb0]

Terra happy Friday!!! I used to send you happy Friday a lot but now I have graduated and am gainfully employed so I forget 💞 I still love ur blog and read it once a week 🌷🌸🌺 thank you for being a bright spot on this wretched website!! I hope you get to chill this weekend/and or have a hot date

Yaaay congrats to you Friday angel! 🌻💓👼 I love to see a thriving flourish! & ty I actually just cancelled my saturday because she has jewish christmas and my backup is like, I will just stop by your place while I pick up my new furniture... I'm not going out in the cold for that 💀