#fuck you referral lady

[autumnbell32]

The doctor’s order for the TMS referral sat for a week before anyone even sent it. Because of “staffing issues.” That was an additional week this illness had to kick my ass, and the lady didn’t even offer an apology. She was so nonchalant about it. And then told me it could be another several weeks before I even hear anything.

[laneaconite]

Treatment

“Take this pill,” They say.

Take this pill and it should work

 In a month,

                    Three months,

                                            Six.

Take this pill,

And it will make you tired.

                                        They all make you tired,

Because they act on the brain, 

                                                  You see.

Take this pill,

“We’re sorry the others didn’t work.”

We will smile

                    Sympathetically.

                                                 We do care.

Take this

            Pill.

                  It will make you dizzy.

Take this

            Injection.

                           Since it is treatment resistant

Now.

It will hurt,

                 It will make you itch.

You can still keep taking the old ones,

                                                         In case they end up working

                                                                                                          Too.

Take this pill,

                      It should work in one month,

                                                                    Three months,

Six.

No, we don’t know

                               Why this is happening.

We don’t know

                     How to fix it.

Your blood screening was

                                           Normal.

Your CT scan was

                                Normal.

Take this pill.

-Lane Aconite,

March 5th, 2023

[scarlettcryptid]

i feel so silly being anxious about my ENT appointment at 930 🥴

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

My jaw has been bothering me for over a month. Can’t yawn or breathe deeply without pain. Sometimes I can’t eat in the mornings until the Tylenol has kicked in. I’ve been to 3 different dentists, including a fancy specialist that of course wasn’t covered by my insurance. I went to my primary when my ear stared hurting too, went to an ears nose and throat doctor that just hadddd to be a referral and took weeks to get just for that to be a dead end. The pain increased to the point that I wanted to stab my ear to make it quit. I was at my lowest point and decided fuck it, let’s go to an urgent care because god knows I’ve done everything else outside of going to an emergency room. I was told they only had PAs available due to short staffing which had me a little worried, not going to lie.

The very sweet lady that couldn’t have been more than 25 and was severely overworked said with very wide eyes, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I believe it’s a swollen sinus.”

As someone that has no allergies, not even seasonal ones, and doesn’t even have a stuffy nose, I was pretty skeptical. She said the swollen sinus is putting pressure on my jaw which is in turn putting pressure on my ear and they are all linked.

However, she prescribed me medicine, something none of the other doctors did. And wouldn’t you know it, my jaw is no longer hurting and my ear pain is barely noticeable and it’s only been 24 hours.

The 3 hour urgent care visit was worth it.

[flowerxbunnie]

OK BESTIE LISTEN

i heard “roses are red, watches are gold. get on your knees and do as you’re told.” I NEED IT IN A MATT FIC PLEASEEEEEE

okok so maybe matt really reallyyyy wants to spend money on a pretty girl. you sign up on a sugar baby website for that coin, and y’all start talkingggg. he flies you out and books a hotel 👀 there’s a red dress and like a gold and diamond watch on the bed and rose petals and wine, w that on a note. and he gives you a time and place to meet him for dinner and is giving you the eyes alllll night. and yk the resttttt

Sugar Daddy

Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, fluffy ending

@lustfulslxt

DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you and spy from another table? I’m terrified you’re gonna get your head chopped off with an axe,” Jaycee says while lint rolling my dress.

“Girl I promise I’ll be fine. Most of the time these guys can’t even walk without a cane, let alone chase me down with an axe,” I laugh, checking myself in the mirror again. “Plus I’ll have my location on. One bad vibe and I promise I’ll let you know.”

I smile and hug my best friend, pulling away and spinning around to show her the back of the dress.

“How do I look? Think I’ll get a big payout tonight?” I say while raising an eyebrow in a jokingly seductive way.

“Honey I KNOW his wallet is gonna be screaming and crying at him after you’re done with him. Do you have to… you know…?” She does a ring shape with one hand and pokes her finger in and out.

“Fuck him?” I laugh, swatting her hands down. “It just depends. A lot of these guys just want a pretty girl to keep them company. Like some of them I literally just eat dinner with and that’s it. But if they want little something extra and I’m feeling up for it, why not?”

“What does he look like?” she questions.

I shrug before quickly trying to explain it the easiest way I can after I see the worried look on her face.

“So first of all, this sugar daddy app is referral only, so it’s definitely safe. He has to have been referred by another sugar baby, passed a background check, proven he can pay out, submitted a photo of himself to the owner of the app, all that jazz. But it’s kinda like a blind date.. on my end? Like he knows what I look like but not my name.. but I’ve never seen him… I know the first letter of his name… Anyway I don’t know why exactly it’s a thing, but it was created by former sugar babies and I think it’ll be cool to give it a shot!” I spew all this information at her as she stares at me just blinking.

“Oh…okayyy…” she trails off before adding “Please please be safe, Y/n. You know I’m just a phone call away!” She kisses my cheek and walks back to her room.

I pull out my phone and open my messages with M.

-Onyx hotel at 6pm. Reservation will be under the name Adam Smith. They’ll get you in no problem.

Adam Smith causes me to raise an eyebrow, but I order an Uber and sit around for for a while before looking in my full length mirror again, smoothing out my black dress and fluffing my hair. I spray a vanilla scented perfume onto the pulse points of my neck and grab my bag. I dig through it and make sure I still have my pepper spray and stun gun. I know I’ll be fine, the app is super well rated and trustworthy, but you never know what some of these dudes will try.

•••

The Uber pulls up to the door of a massive hotel. I’m no architect but it looks like the doorway is carved from marble. I step out of my Uber and thank my driver before making my way into the doors of the Onyx, a door greeter offering to show me to the desk.

“Hi, I have a room booked under the name Adam Smith.” I smile as the lady behind the desk types into her computer to pull up the file.

“Got it right here sweetie.” She reaches under the desk to get the room key and slides it across the counter to me. “All the way to the top floor, make a right and it’s the door at the end of the hall. Have fun with Mr. Smith,” she adds in at the end, and I swear I can see a smirk on her face.

I make my way to the elevator, now flustered, and press the button for the top floor, my heart beginning to beat a little harder as I realize I’ll be meeting M face to face in a few short moments. Before I can think too hard, the elevator doors slide open. I step out and make my way to the end of the hall, my heels clicking with each step and echoing off the walls. I pull out the room key and take a deep breath before sliding the card into the reader and watching it blink green.

“Don’t fuck this up, Y/n. You need this money.” I think to myself.

I push the door open and I’m met with the scent of champagne and sweet roses. It smells like luxury.

“Hello, M?” I ask, shutting and locking the door behind me.

I’m met with a still silence. I put my bag down by the door and survey the room. It’s massive, marble floors with intricate wallpaper donning the walls. There’s even an office area with a desk, notepads and various office supplies. I notice an open pen on the desk, but I’m honestly too scared to touch anything. It all looks fucking expensive. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see a message from M pop up on my lock screen.

-You make it in okay?

-Yes, where are you?

-Check the bed.

I make my way over to the queen size bed and gasp. I see a red satin dress laid out surrounded by rose petals. It’s gorgeous, way better than the dress I picked for myself tonight. There’s a note beside it, and when I pick it up I find a black velvet box that was strategically hidden underneath the paper. I unfold the note and read the smooth handwriting,

“Roses are red, watches are gold.

Get on your knees and do as you’re told.”

I immediately break out in a blush, smiling to myself just from seeing M’s words on the page. Guess I know what I’ll be getting myself into later. I read further down the note and I see something else scribbled out.

“I’ll be waiting, my lady in red.”

I pick up the black velvet box and open it, shocked once I’m met with a shining gold watch encrusted with diamonds around the face. I pick it up gently out of its cushioning and flip it over, an “M” carved into the gold underside of the watch. Fuck, that’s honestly hot. Marking me already? I slip it onto my wrist gently and fasten the clasp, the cold watch against my wrist giving me shivers but it fits perfectly.

I slip off my black dress and shimmy into the red one, smiling as it zips up and clings onto me like a glove. I feel like pure luxury right now, checking myself out in the mirror before I see my phone light up on the bed.

-Uber is outside. See you soon.

I swear this man is already driving me crazy. He ordered the nicest Uber I’ve ever been in and made sure I had a glass of champagne ready to be poured to sip on during the ride. We pull up to a restaurant I’ve never even heard of and my driver gets out to open my door for me. “Watch your step, sweetheart.”

I walk to the reservations counter and give them the same name I was told to give to the hotel, and I’m led to a table in the back of the restaurant. My heart is beating out of my chest at this point. This is the first blind date I’ve been on at all, let alone with a potential sugar daddy. What if he’s hideous or weird or creepy?

I’m pretty sure my eyes fell out and rolled onto the floor when I saw M. He’s a young, hot brunette with striking blue eyes that feel like they’re burning holes into my skin.

“Your waiter will be over shortly,” the hostess smiles and walks back the other way.

M stands up to pull my seat out for me, but not before grabbing my hand and placing a soft kiss onto the backside, making my heart skip a beat before I sit down and he pushes me closer to the table.

“Not what you were expecting, I’m guessing?” He questions, his eyes locked onto mine with a smug smile.

“No not at all. I mean, I’m not mad about it I just-” I take a shaky breath, trying to calm my nerves before speaking again. “Usually the men I meet are shriveled up and on their last leg. You seem so young to be doing this kind of thing.”

He laughs and nods. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“A lot? So you’ve been doing this for a while, then?” I question, grabbing the glass of water that was waiting on me and take a sip, my berry red lipstick leaving a mark on the rim.

“Not too long. Maybe six months?” He looks up in thought. “Yeah like six or seven.”

“What’s your real name, Mr. M?” I ask in a lower voice, playing up the mystery vibe.

“I’m Matthew… or just Matt. And yours, pretty lady?”

“Y/n. Pleasure to be getting to know you better, Matthew.”

•••

We drink and eat and talk for what feels like hours, getting to know the ins and outs of both of our experiences in the sugar daddy world. I learn that Matthew is an influencer who makes crazy money and doesn’t know what to spend it on. He explained to me that he’s always had a love for gift giving, and when the money started rolling in and he realized he could get any girl he wanted, it combined and spiraled into almost a fetish to spend money on beautiful women.

I surprisingly understand where he’s coming from and we talked about that for a good chunk of the night. I felt like I was kinda playing therapist in a way, helping him see the reasons for why he does these “taboo” things from a nonjudgmental perspective.

After we finish dinner and drinks he orders another Uber and walks me out, opening the door for me and placing his hand on the small of my back to guide me down to my seat. I scoot to the seat behind the driver and watch as Matt ducks down to take his seat and shuts the black car door. I click my seatbelt and look up to see him scooting closer to me and settling in the middle seat, flashing a smirk my way.

The ride back to the Onyx is filled with glasses of champagne and shared giggles while we listen to the Uber driver tell us the story of his life that we definitely didn’t ask for. Matt’s hand nonchalantly lands on my thigh at some point during a giggle fit and I swear I freeze, not out of fear but anticipation. His fingers trail to the inner part of my thigh while his thumb rests on top tracing back and forth, sending butterflies through my entire body. He just looks over at me and smiles before turning back to the driver and egging him on, asking stupid questions like, “So then what did you do once they threw your shit on the street??”

It’s all a blur, his hand wondering aimlessly up and down my thigh with no intention to venture under my dress just yet. His smooth skin catching and reflecting the lights of the city as we journey through traffic. I feel like I can’t really concentrate on the conversation and I barely speak. This man is gorgeous inside and out- it’s like I’ve known him for years. It’s weird and it’s making me so flustered, but thankfully we come to a stop outside the Onyx and I can release the breath I’ve been holding in.

Matt steps out and walks to the driver’s window, handing him an envelope and shaking his hand before stepping towards my door and holding his hand out for me. I grab onto it and I feel a weird feeling shoot across my body just from the simple feeling of his skin on mine. He doesn’t let go as we make our way though the doors and into the lobby. He shoots the lady at the front desk a wave and a smile before we turn the corner towards the elevators.

The ride to the top floor feels like it takes triple the amount time as it did when I did it alone. Matt moves to stand across from me with his back leaned against the wall, stealing glances occasionally. There’s a silence between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s filled with a tension so thick I can almost physically feel it. We exit as we reach our floor and he lets me lead the way.

“That dress fits you so perfectly, sweetheart,” he whispers as he trails behind me.

I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I chuckle and try to keep the blush from spreading across my cheeks. We reach the door to the room and I stop to dig through my purse for the key, but before I finish Matt reaches around me, his chest touching my back, and swipes his own key. His veiny hand turns the handle and pushes it open before we step inside. I sit my bag down on the desk and reach down to take off my heels before I’m interrupted by his deep voice.

“Let me take them off. Sit on the bed.”

“Oh, yes sir,” I say in a teasing voice, raising my eyebrows and walking over to the bed before settling on the edge.

He moves to stand in front of me and grabs my right ankle gently, running his hand up to my knee before placing my heel onto his belt. I watch as his fingers delicately trace the strap around my ankle and find the clasp, undoing it before slipping my heel off and tossing it to the side. He repeats the same actions on my left leg, but once this heel is removed he drops to his knees and props my leg onto his shoulder causing me to fall onto my back and gasp.

He reaches down to grab my other leg and props it onto his other shoulder. His eyes snap up to meet mine, a look of lust written all over his face. I can feel myself starting to throb, a puddle forming between my thighs as he tilts his head towards my inner thigh and brushes his stubble along the tender skin.

I usually don’t get this into the sex with the other men I meet. They’re almost all over the age of 50 with some kind of ailment and it’s just not my vibe. I need the money so I do it, and I won’t lie, I’ve ended up being shocked and enjoying it a couple of times. But Matt has barely even touched me and my body is craving him desperately.

He spreads my legs as his lips cover my thighs in wet kisses, trailing achingly close to my core as he pushes my dress up around my hips.

He looks down at my panties as if he’s an artist admiring his work, running his thumb along the fabric and feeling the arousal that had made itself visible. He meets my gaze and increases his pressure, tilting his head in awe as if he’s poking an animal in a cage. Soft whimpers start involuntarily leaving my lips, my hips rocking against him.

“Fuck, look at you already squirming for me.” He licks his lips and leans forward, flattening his tongue across the fabric causing me to moan and grip the sheets from the pressure and warmth.

He watches as I react and blinks slowly before licking a stripe from the bottom to the top, biting at the hem and letting go roughly. The elastic stings my skin but he quickly places kisses along my skin to soothe it.

“F-fuck, Matthew.” I can’t help but roll my eyes back, going insane from all the teasing.

He uses his index finger to pull my panties to the side, letting out a deep groan when his eyes meet my dripping pussy. He wastes no time before burying his head between my legs, his tongue dancing up and down my core.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he almost whines as he comes up for a breath.

He continues lapping me up and I’m a mess underneath him, cursing, arching my back off the bed, gripping at the sheets, pulling his hair. Anything to release the tension building up in my body.

He pulls back, bringing his hand down and teasing my entrance with his middle finger before easing it in. I moan out as he curls up into my g spot, which prompts him to repeat the motion repeatedly. He brings his head back down to suck on my clit, making unbreaking eye contact.

A knot is twisting in my stomach at the sight of his blue eyes staring into mine, him working relentlessly to bring me to my peak. My legs begin to tighten around his head but he doesn’t fight it. He picks his pace up and begins humming deliciously into my pussy.

“Let me see that pretty face while you’re cumming on mine.” he says breathlessly dipping back down to flick his tongue across my clit.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and stare down at him, and his eyes look like they’re almost begging for me to release.

“M-Matt I’m gonna… fuck I’m gonna cum,” I whine before feeling the tension in my stomach snap and my orgasm flush through my body. I can see the smile in his eyes as he watches me come undone, making a mess of myself while crying out his name and clenching around his finger.

“Was that good, princess?” He asks, standing up and undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand while pushing his hair out of his face with the other.

“Best one I’ve had in a while,” I pant, trying to get my breathing back to normal.

He simply smiles and slips his button up off, tossing it beside the bed. He grabs both of my hands and pulls me into a sitting position then reaches down and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Let’s see how good those pretty little lips look around me, hm?”

I blush and reach for his belt, making eye contact as I undo it slowly and unbutton his pants. I see his jaw clenching as I take down the zipper and begin to tug at the waistband. My breath hitches as his dick springs up and brushes my face in the process. That same smug grin he keeps doing creeps onto his lips as he takes himself into his hand and pumps his cock steadily while looking down at me.

His free hand comes up to grab my jaw, his thumb parting my lips and teeth. He brushes the rough pad of his thumb across my tongue gently a few times before pushing it to the back of my throat, chuckling when I gag and pull away. He slides his head into my mouth and closes his eyes in pleasure.

I grip his base and pump with a twisting motion a few times before taking all I can of his length into my mouth. I begin to bob my head back and forth, stopping at the tip to swirl my tongue around his head every so often. His breathing gets heavier as I run my free hand up and down his abdomen, my nails leaving a trail of red marks in their wake.

He brings both hands into the lengths of my hair and twists it once around his hands before tugging my head back and thrusting himself further into the back of my throat.

“Look at you taking it so well, such a good girl for me,” he groans as he continues pumping in and out of my mouth.

He throws his head back and I can feel his dick twitching, so I pull back and hold my mouth open with my tongue out, ready to swallow his load.

“Ready to take it down your throat, hm? I have something else in mind, baby. Get on the bed.”

“Get me out of this thing first,” I beg, standing up with my back to him motioning to the zipper on my dress.

I feel his warm hands touch my hips and trail up my sides before brushing across my back and tugging the zipper down, pulling the straps off my shoulders and letting the dress hit the floor. I can feel his breath on my back as I feel the clasps of my bra coming undone slowly. I slip it off and toss my panties aside before crawling up the bed. I press my chest to the bed and arch my back as I feel the bed dipping beneath his weight. I feel his presence behind me before two hands come down to knead my ass and give it a light smack.

“It’s like you already knew how I wanted you,” he laughs and pulls my hips toward him.

“Lucky guess,” I giggle, my breath hitching soon after as I feel his hard dick sliding up and down my folds.

He slaps his tip against my entrance a couple times before pushing into me and sucking in a harsh breath.

“Such a tight little pussy,” he says as he bottoms out and holds for a few seconds.

I’m aching for movement so I wiggle my hips back and forth, feeling the fullness and how he feels against my walls. He grips onto my hips and squeezes, pulling out halfway before pushing all the way back in harshly.

He picks up his pace and the room is filled with moans and the sound of our skin slapping together. I can’t help but throw myself back into him, desperate to somehow have him deeper than what’s possible- it feels primal and animalistic. His sweat drips onto my back as he pants and keeps a steady rhythm, and the noises coming out of me are something I’ve never heard myself do before.

His thrusts get slower and slower, more unpredictable, before he pulls out and flips me onto my back, legs wide open for him.

“Touch yourself, baby. Let me watch.” he demands as he stays on his knees between my legs jerking himself.

I bring my hand down to my clit and rub small circles, watching as his eyes rake up and down my body. I bring my free hand up to my breast and pinch my nipple between my fingers, rolling and tugging gently.

His mouth hangs open and I watch the muscles in his arm contract as his grip tightens. I bring my finger up from my pussy to my mouth, tasting myself on my fingers and getting them wet before returning to my core, rubbing back and forth on my clit faster than before knowing I’m about to spill over the edge. I bite my lip to stifle my cries as my high crashes through my body, my head rushing and body tingling.

This must have been enough for Matt to break, and he watches intently as he spills his warm load onto my pussy, drips falling down onto the sheets underneath.

He falls down to lay beside me on the bed, both of us dizzy and dazed. I watch his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he catches his breath, not laying for too long before he gets up and quickly walks to the bathroom, returning with a washcloth.

“Can I?” He asks, sitting between my legs and holding the rag out, a much more innocent look on his face than the last time he was in this position.

I giggle and nod, appreciating him wanting to help me clean up. This is such a different experience than any other one I’ve had in this line of work. It felt so much deeper and personal. I can’t let my mind play tricks on me, though. He’ll have another girl in this room before another week passes. I’m just another sugar baby he can get off to and forget about. I keep the smile on my face despite the way I’m feeling, knowing I need the money and I can’t screw this up by bringing up any sort of emotion.

He tosses the wash cloth into the bathroom trash before picking his shirt up from beside the bed and walking over to me.

“Uh, you can wear this.. if you want?” He says seeming unsure of himself.

“Oh, my original dress is in the drawer over there, that’ll probably look more normal than a big button up when I go back through the lobby,” I giggle and sit up, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed.

“I meant like.. if you wanted to stay a while? I don’t have anything comfier but I figured it’s better than a dress,” he trails off, shifting on his feet as he looks around the room.

Stay? I’ve never had any of these men clean me up before, let alone offer for me to stay.

“Y-yeah, sure. I mean, that sounds great! You don’t have anything else going on tonight?” I question, trying to gauge his reaction.

“No, nothing going on. I just..” he picks at the skin on his fingers before claiming a spot beside me on the bed and staring intently into my eyes.

“Did you feel it too? I’ve never felt that way with any of these hookups before. I feel like you get me. Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I’m being a fucking idiot and reading too much into it. Let me get your check,” he says shaking his head and abruptly standing up.

I grab his hand and hop to my feet beside him, trying not to smile like a fool.

“No, no.. forget the check, Matt. I felt it too.”

He exhales a deep breath before gripping my face with both of his hands. “I want to get to know you properly, Y/n. I don’t want you to feel like I’m just using you.”

I press a kiss onto his lips and pull away smiling.

“Give me the damn shirt.”

[rreskk]

Im a huge fan of all your writings, your page is my all time favourite on Tumblr and I jus noticed you’ve taken requests and was wondering if you can write some smut of Trevor x his Therapist or Doctor

I fucking love this idea! Sorry it took long, I've been having a brain-rotting phase about my OC :)

Summary: Your favourite client has become more... Of a "friend."

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Therapist Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1265

AUGUST, 26TH – 1985

You’ll see grieved people hover in and out of your office with a suicidal tendencies, more likely than never. You’d also have people who’ve been through wars, people who have slept with family members, confessed murderers, suicidal drug-addicts, sociopathic teenagers, depressed elderly ladies, wealthy white men, menopausal women, schizophrenics, sexually confused religious men, teenage dirtbags; the list going on and on and on and on. Your folders only stack up with every unstable being paying brain-surgeon bucks to talk about how crappy life is. Some stories you wept alongside them, some you had to give them the cold-shoulder, some you had to refuse service. All in which was based in the memo when you began working within the professionality.

However, there was this one man with mountains of issues and emotional depth, some criminal, some traumatic, some petty; but he interested you greatly. A so-called trainee pilot for the Airforce. Personal record was fresh, great skill in flying, physically active, single, citizen of Canada. However, he was referred after his team had identified slight dangers in his emotional intelligence and anger management. He was once called “a fucking pyscho” by his referral, which had caused some mishap of violence. Nonetheless, the front page had suggested he was aggressive when “provoked”.

The first session was tricky, as predicted from his difficulties on concealing emotional bondage. But as the sessions became a regular occurrence, he slowly loosened up. Only recently had he talked about his childhood. Through painful cries and many times of walking out of the office eruptively, in which he returns hours later to continue, believing you are “the only person who cares” – his words exactly when you question his behaviour.

Unconsciously, you both grew close. After a good few weeks of working along side him, Trevor had named every person in his life; mother, father, brother, past lovers, past friends, etc… He trusted you with this information, and when he spoke freely about them, his eyes would stare into yours with tensity. He self-indulged in the eye-contact. You understood that it was his way of seeing your internal reactions and thoughts. Trevor’s constantly assessing you like you are with him, and whether it was meant to happen, it fell into this hole of deep relation. He relied on you. Extremely clingy. His sessions would extend from an hour to 3 or 4. It had gotten to the point where you with drawled other patience, just so you could invite him in again. Your managers assumed he needed more focus, so they allowed. But was it about focus?

No.

It was something more personal than that. A transference. Therapist and patient romance. Forbidden touches of his hands against your thighs turned into extreme penetration in your office. From the desk to the sofa, from the floor to your bathroom. At some point, he had been everywhere with you. Trying to overcome this situation was flawed, and every-time you tried to give him this professional support, it turned into a lustful beg of his fingers and filthy tongue.

“Fuck – “ You panted when he crawled over you on the sofa-bed, his penis frantically searching for the entrance as he used his tongue to leave trails of his saliva against your jawline. Whereas the moments prior to this, he was talking about the lack of love given from his mother, and he instead admitted that the maternal need had been transferred onto you. Trevor struggled to explain his insane attraction to how “caring” you are, forgetting that it was your profession. But the way you’d reassure and rub his back – it always gave him a reason to go home and relieve that naughty arousal. And every session, he’s excited for this specific reason.

“I tried to book a session last week,” He murmured darkly as his cock injected into your pussy, “The prick downstairs told me you were busy – with what?” His voice crackled a bit at the pleasure of having your warmth surrounding his erection.

Holding onto his shoulders, you breathed out a shaky moan, his name staining the tip of your tongue. The question went ignored until you found the capacity to give him the deserved answer.

“I had training.” You could barely say.

Trevor huffed in jealousy, his hips finding a steady pace as he gripped your hips to line up the act of penetration. Despite the angry frown plastered on his face, you knew he was enjoying himself. The way his tongue curled up between his lips, the concentration dilating his pupils. You had analysed his behaviour from day 1, so it became an easy job to predict his overall mood.

“I’m more important…” He breathed softly and ushered you to wrap your legs around his hips.

“I know…”

“I fucking love how loose you are,” Trevor desperately kissed your quivering lips before breaking away to increase the speed and groaning your name. “Oh… Oh, fuck. Yes. Mmm…”

The clock was ticking and when he was occupying your cunt, eyes began to fall upon the ticks and the toks. You’ve mentioned before this that a patient was planned to arrive within the next hour, so the nerves were beginning to boil your blood. The last thing you’d want is to be caught; especially with one of your most dangerous clients who’s supposed to have “professional” support. 

“Look at me.” He soon begged when noticing your lack of attention. His hands fell onto your breasts and gave them a loving squeeze, continuing the thrusting.

“I ought to…” It was hard to be vocal, so you tried a little harder, “I ought to prepare for the next – “

Trevor whimpered angrily and fucked you harder than before. His hands gripped onto your breasts, teeth grinding. He repetitively shook his head and silenced you from saying anything more.

“No, no, no!” He pled. His temper starting to spark.

You grasped his wrists, moaning out of pure bliss. This encouraged him to thrust a little faster, his shaggy mullet falling into different directions and flows. For a young pilot, he was especially rugged and quite ill-looking, but it made this more exciting. You were fucking an ill client… That was such an exciting experience, but why? The psychology was hard to work out, even for you. So his witchery could be blameful, the way his mouth casted spells on you.

“Please – “ You moaned and closed your eyes.

“Look at me!” Trevor whined again, his hands cradling your face as you both came close. He winced. The sluggish rock of his hips slapped against yours for the last time before he pulled out, cock ejaculating white fluids upon your stomach. “Oooohhh… Fuck!” Your patient ecstatically exaggerated.

You too had came. To refrain noise, it became a squeal of pure lust. When his warm semen painted your stomach, your fingers instantly rummaged through your clit, feeling how much cum he made you squirt. And with a moan, you felt him take charge of the inspection and licked up the white strands with his tongue. Trevor brushed your pussy and slurped up your taste with a puppy glimpse in his eyes. He looked at you when licking, begging to be praised.

“Fuck… Yes – “ Then the door knocked.

With quick motion, you threw on your shirt and zipped up your skirt as he groaned. Trevor wiped his mouth and gave your cheek a last kiss before throwing on a shirt and walking out. You noticed on the way out, he had gave your next client the meanest look to man-kind.

And the next week; that client had never returned.

[jenthebug]

I'm home, work was super exhausting and tedious.

More referrals.

I'm salty.

This lady sat around and did practically nothing for three months, called out sick a bunch, took super long breaks and hour long lunches, and fucked off without organizing anything.

And who's being punished with stacks and stacks of undone referrals? Those of us who show up and do work. It's not fair, which sounds like a childish thing to say, but sometimes the kids have it figured it out. We should be rewarded for good behavior, not punished. But the work has to get done regardless.

There are at least two days each week when I seriously consider calling out sick, different days each week, just because I'm fucking exhausted. (Ex-husband's mom is all like "I don't know how you work full time with cancer" and I don't either tbh) I am fatigued all the time. I come in because I need the paid time off for my medical appointments and my honeymoon, but damn, it doesn't feel good. I'd like some acknowledgement for that.

I don't mean like "thanks for your hard work" or even gifts or raises (ok I'd take a raise but still), I mean time the fuck off. Like, "here's a mental health day off the books" or "here's a bonus 20 hours of PTO" or "you wanna take an hour for lunch today?"

But that's not how The Healthcare Corporation (tm) works.

So I will come in tomorrow and call more referrals, and be glad it's a half day for my oncologist appointment, and ask the NP about iron infusions or something to get my energy up.

[robotslenderman]

okay so speaking of periods -

I work in radiology and every now and then I learn about this new bit of body horror that keeps me up at night.

last year it was compression fractures. fucking horrific. turns out that if you have osteoporosis sometimes your spine is like "yeah, nah, fuck this mate" and a vertebra will just collapse under its own weight. that's right, you could be innocently minding your own business and your spine will just fucking break under the weight of holding you up. once had a patient walk around with one of these for six months before she decided she should see a doctor about her back pain and SURPRISE BACK BREAK!

anyway, I learned about a new horror when we had a patient come in asking to be scanned for endometriosis. For those that are lucky enough not to know, the endometrium is the part of the uterus that sheds blood during a period, which is what causes us to bleed. endometriosis is when that tissue grows outside of the uterus instead of inside it. it is extremely fucking painful and I'm probably going to get scanned for it soon myself bc I thought you could only have endo if you're in excruciating pain for the entire period but I recently found out that being incapacitated for just a day or two is a risk factor so we'll see.

anyway.

so this lady says she's getting tested for endo and slides us a referral.

it's for a chest xray.

I'm like. "hold on, that's a chest xray. endometriosis is a pelvic ultrasound."

this lady then informs me she's one of the unlucky few who may have been cursed with The Horrors.

thought endometriosis was periods on hard mode? nah. thoracic endometriosis is period hard mode. that's when endometrium grows on and around your fucking lungs. and you know how that shit bleeds during menstruation? welp, if you have thoracic endo and that shit decides the inside of your lung is fair game, you cough up blood every time you're on your period!

I very professionally informed the patient "fuck THAT" but given the circumstances she was very understanding of my outburst.

[sassypotatoe1]

A comprehensive list of things chiropractors can treat or cure by clicking your back, according to old lady gossip circle:

Multiple sclerosis

Diabetes

Asthma

Cardiovascular disease

Ibs

Chrons disease

Immunocompromization

Your fight or flight response

Anxiety

Depression

Neurological conditions like tourettes

Lymph node drainage

Infertility

Endometriosis

Pcos

Virtigo

Chronic pain caused by "inflammation" which is not actual inflammation but refers to conditions like arthritis and osteoporosis

Chronic pain in general

Tuberculosis by way of lung massages that put more air in the muscles and makes breathing easier

Difficult pregnancy

It has to be noted that chiropractors can treat exactly 0 of these conditions, and chiropractic "treatments" can not even provide relief for most of these. Chiropractors can massage and stretch you, providing temporary relief for pain caused by injury, muscle tension or cramps. They can not even address the underlying cause of these issues. They do not require a medical degree to practice, and they aren't covered by most medical insurance FOR A REASON. you can get the same effect from your hairdresser giving you a neck massage while shampooing you and that does not cost an arm and a leg.

Chiropractors are exploitative quacks who make bold claims and use big words to make money off your suffering. If you want to treat an injury go to a physical therapist who has a medical degree or sport science doctorate at least, or ideally a biokineticist. If you want to treat ANY OF THE REST OF THESE go to your GP, get a referral to a specialist with a PhD in their selected medical field that they got from medical school, and treat it with clinical evidence based intervention.

For the love of God if you want your back clicked pay a chiropractor a fuck ton of money but don't expect a cure to come for your chronic illness from theatrics and some stretching.

[notcatherinemorland]

wheeled chair updates >:DDD

had a hilarious phone triage with a Nice Lady^tm who actually embodied her role of being Nice^tm. we established that i needed a power chair bc i cant use a manual, but they cant prescribe a power chair unless its for indoor use. to which i said 'well. i'd use it to get about my university buildings. those are inside...... but in order to get to them i'd have to use it. outside.' to which she said 'i think I'll have to refer you to OT, as you've got to be using a power chain indoors for a few months before you can take the outdoor drivers test. but you need to use it outside to get to the inside parts.'

long story short is she's corrected my referral and moved me to the next step, but fucking hell, I've been thinking about it all day. i do love living my life backwards to what the NHS expects of my little disabled ass.

[superbattrash]

[muffled screaming]

Per my autism aid person’s request (no, it was my idea or whatever since I can feel my mind tearing itself apart but she encouraged me to start the process) I called my caseworker. Or you know, called the office and asked who the hell my caseworker is and then got through to her. I was only supposed to get her number because I wasn’t ready for the rest of the process yet

But I got put through to her personally so I just went for it and told her shit’s not great. I’d like to discuss what to do with her. Schedule a meeting. And this woman… who I have met exactly once in my life - I couldn’t even remember her name - told me with a sort of “why are you whining?” voice that fine ok, but I’ll need to call my doctor and tell him what I just told her

I told her that I have recently done that. That is how I got my referral for my therapist. She told me that wasn’t recent enough but (in a very annoyed voice) said that fine, she’d try to work with that. Because she can’t do anything about my hours or my work without a doctor’s word — and I’m like??? YOU’RE my caseworker? The one I’m supposed to contact if I’m overwhelmed or have taken up too much work? What the fuck

She then schedules a meeting for Monday which… fine, I don’t even know at this point, it’s not like I have anyone to go with me. And today at work I gather courage to tell my boss that I’m going to that meeting to talk about how I’m doing. Because I’m not doing good. I’ve told her this before and she’s been respectful and thanked me for being honest. She did this time as well, especially because I told her I didn’t wanna blindside them if my caseworker calls for a meeting

But then. Fucking then. I get home after work, still completely exhausted, and the HR boss calls. She’s the one who hired me last year but she’s had nothing to do with me since. She then basically questions me and goes “when’s the meeting? Where? I’d like to be there” and I have to tell her like? This is a private meeting for me and my caseworker to talk about how I am doing and to see what would be best to do? And THEN she will call for a meeting with my bosses

She then proceeds to tell me that my boss (who apparently told HR lady about our conversation the moment I left) is busy so she’ll attend the meeting in her stead and she would like the meeting to be next week. Bro. I JUST scheduled the meeting Monday? The PRIVATE meeting. And then she talks about if I have something I’d like to say and they have things on their agenda as well - and it fucking sounds like she’s going to argue or just fucking fire me???

As if I didn’t have enough shit on my plate already, now I’m nearing anxiety attacks every fucking hour because I’m so nervous and I should’ve never taken this stupid job. Why do other people get to do the temporary early retirement with just a “uwu I’m tired” when I’m fucking forced to work at a place where they misgender me and treat me either like a child or a fucking slave?

I’ve got nothing left, man, what the fuck am I supposed to do?? I don’t have anyone to speak for me and I’m horrible at doing it myself

I just want a fucking break

[disagigglebilities]

Fucking neurologists be like, "You need a referral -_-." Lady, I already had a fucking referral. I simply was looking to transfer my fucking service over to your office.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Health Update, for those who might notice or care!

So, here's my consequences for needing healthcare and trying to get it:

A humiliating phone appointment, wherein I did at least manage to plead successfully for an in-person appointment, and an assurance that the pharmacy should give me the generic patches that hurt less if I ask for them, and I didn't need to involve the doctor.

A week's worth of anxiety and research and note taking.

A hour and fifteen wait in a hot waiting room and exam room (AC was broken).

An anxiety attack stemming from clueless statements reflecting just how little the doctor knew or cared about the available medications and how they might help me.

Driving, paying for parking, and getting locked in a garage due to the long wait time.

A prescription for "more estrogen" that turned out to be WAY LESS estrogen.

More phone calls, research and anxiety to confirm the above.

More pain!

A brief callback that did not acknowledge any error and stated I could go back to my old prescription if I didn't like the new one.

When pressed that the entire point of this exercise was more estrogen and that I wasn't getting it, another callback with a demand to contact the other doctor she referred me to instead.

And a referral to (it turns out!) a doctor whose office does not answer the phone, has a full voicemail box, and isn't accepting email from new patients.

And the cherry on top: There's a shortage of generic patches and I will have to refill my prescription with the brand name ones that hurt more.

No apologies. All of this is MY problem.

This has been an utter cul-de-sac. 100% punishment, no reward! This is still more help than I was getting in the States, but I'm starting to suspect that, on this matter at least, it's just down to having more energy and irritability 'cos I'm getting better treatment for my thyroid. If I had a little less to give right now, I'd just give right the fuck up.

I am not attached to this assigned gender, and I'm not attached to these gendered pieces of myself. If I didn't get crazy scar tissue and pain from surgeries in the past, I would go out and trade my tits for hugs RIGHT NOW. I have no idea what the undercarriage needs to stop hurting, but I don't care what it looks like and I'd do whatever works. It's just, I don't think I should NEED to do that. There are plenty of options on the table that don't require thousands of dollars and general anesthesia and scar tissue, but they're being gatekept away from me. "A woman" couldn't possibly need anything beyond the most basic interventions, no matter what!

I think, unless I break through to this other doctor somehow, my options are: Beg for a referral to a gender clinic, or Beg the endocrinologist to handle all my hormones. I don't know why he's been so reluctant to do that. I know other people whose endocrinologists handle everything. Maybe he just assumed I'd prefer a lady-doctor for lady-things and he'll adjust if I tell him that's not the case. But I don't know. I'm gonna hafta find out, but I don't know.

All this is taking place while the spouse is dealing with this insane extra workload for the CPA exam too. I'm getting seriously concerned for what this is gonna do to HIS health. And I have an eye appointment on Saturday where I'm going to have to explain: "IT DOESN'T MATTER IF MY VISION IS 20/20 SOMETIMES, MY STAMINA IS SHIT AND I'M LEARNING TO KEEP READING AND DRAWING WITH DOUBLE VISION AND BLURRED LINES! I DIDN'T NEED TO PAY YOU THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS TO HAVE THAT - I ALREADY HAD THAT FOR FREE!"

I don't know how much I'm going to be able to keep pushing on this for the near future. I wanted to write more and fix the website and put more things in the store too. *sigh* Sorry, my few readers, if you should see this. I got a lot goin on.

[the-torchwood-magician]

So I have problems with my ears. Ever since I was a kid.

(Just fyi trigger warning for medical neglect)

Every pediatrician said there's nothing in my ears. My parents would get me checked once or twice with each new pediatrician (depended on where we lived) and after would say to stop being dramatic, there's nothing in your ears.

When I was 9, I had an ear infection. My ear was drained, I was put on antibiotics and was fine. When I was 16 and 17 (I had my birthday partway through), I had another ear infection. I think it was some bacteria from the pool that got stuck in my ear and caused an infection. Unfortunately, the day it started was our second last day on summer vacation when we were in Florida and at that point we lived in NJ. It hurt so bad to the point that when the tip of the corner of my quilt brushed against it my ear throbbed with pain, and it took three advil and three Tylenol to make a dent in pain suppression. When we got home we had three weeks to school and I was ignored in favor of prepping for the school year. "Stop being dramatic and take some otc pain meds, your ear will be fine." Nope. It trailed down to my jaw so that my mouth and ear hurt, and it took over a month for the pain to go away. (By that time I had my birthday and started senior year.)

Cue January 2023. I'm living in Canada atp, my parents are cut off, I have a new gp. All good so far. Except my ear pain starts getting worse and more consistent. Eventually I bring it up to my gp, and we think at first it's an ear infection again. Ear gets drained and re-examined. Ear canal is red, tympanic membrane is bulged a bit and we dunno why. For now the pain is mainly in my right ear.

As time goes on it's in both ears and painful as fuck. I get referred to an audiologist. Get diagnosed with misophonia and sensitive hearing, and told not to wear headphones or earplugs, but she doesn't know what's causing the pain and I need to see an ENT specialist. Fine. A referral is sent out and denied. Referral number two is sent out and ignored. Referral number three is sent out. I'm waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Pain worsens. On some days I'm crying because it hurts so badly. Occasionally the pain trails down my jaw and throat and hurts there too. I go in for another check-up and get seen by the nurse this time. I tell her it hurts so badly sometimes that the pain makes it itchy. She checks my ears, there's nothing there. This is about Feb 2024.

Nurse confirms with my gp what to do. Gp gives me a prescription for ear psoriasis cream. I feel like screaming.

There's nothing in my ears, why are you giving me something to treat what's not there?

I know what ear psoriasis looks like, my sibling had it, I do not.

Were you even listening to me? I said the pain caused the itchiness, not that there was itchiness causing pain

I've been in pain since childhood, it's not magically going to be ear psoriasis at age 19. Jfc. And I thought you were helpful finally

I emailed my gp as politely as I could about my prescription. She said to try it anyway. 🤦 This lady is not listening!

I got rid of the prescription. I never filled it.

Sometime in April or May 2024 I get a phone call from an ENT office. I finally have an appointment. When is it? Mid December .

FUCK

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to finally have an appointment. But I've had this pain since I was 6. I'm going to be 21 by the time I have my appointment. 15 years I'll be waiting for a specialist's input. I feel like screaming.

And the worst part? The reason the first ENT specialist denied my referral was because I did some research and figured out what it might be (geniculate neuralgia). If I hadn't been denied I probably could have been seen already 😭

Why are medical professionals like this?

[leam1983]

So, you wanna play the Wizard Game...

Let's start with a point of comparison.

When I was a kid, in the halcyon age of the Nineties, Earthworm Jim 1 and 2 were my jam on the SNES. I loved the associated cartoon, and basically owed my exposure to absurdist humor to concepts like the Great Cosmic Worm or the launching of cows into the stratosphere using a crude fulcrum. To me, EWJ was zany, lively, more than content to wag its Vaudevillan villains around for non-crucial bits of mundane evilness that went as far as being rude to the postman - and mostly innocent.

Then, time passed, I grew up, and came to learn of Doug TenNapel, the creator of the IP - and of his views.

Doug TenNapel is a Conservative who mealy-mouths his way around bigotry and antisemitism, more or less the type to Tommy Tallarico his way out of a situation by waving the "Lookit, I'm zany!" card as if we were still effectively in 1995. He tried for a comeback with a Webcomic entitled Ratfist, back in 2010, but his views more or less blew up in his face. Ratfist was unceremoniously concluded and TenNapel effectively faded from public consciousness.

I spent a few weeks wondering how I felt about this. I still had some fondness for EWJ and for ancillary projects that bore a bit of that TenNapel touch (like Shiny Entertainment's MDK), and it took me a while to remember that no, some literary analysis devices that I've been taught to use in the field are not, in fact, a form of tacit approval of the author's views.

Fast-forward to today, and I'm seeing a world where you cannot extricate a work from its author, where someone having a stroke of genius one particular decade ago and then turning into a raging shithole several years later apparently disqualifies everything they've put up in the past from any sort of consideration.

Now, my girlfriend had a sideline in Art History. Whenever she's confronted with Purity Culture as a concept, she remembers Caravaggio's works. The guy is a giant in the field of later Renaissance art, both for his talent and for his personality.

You see, Caravaggio fucked. He was a serial philanderer, he got into fights over women, cultivated a long list of lovers both male and female - and of open convictions. He also recruited a prostitute off the street and hired her to pose for him - as the Virgin Mary. Imagine picking a lady-of-the-road right across from the church that's just commissioned you, and recognizing that with the right light and medium, her face had those exactingly precise characteristics the elite looked for in their depictions of religious figures. For his time, he was as controversial as you could imagine. By today's standards, he'd probably have a massive following on Tumblr, if he were both alive and had a blog of his own. I don't think it'd be much of a stretch to imagine him as an ally, actually.

Despite that, no Art History student will ever look at his works in the context of who Caravaggio was. They'll look at his works in the context of when and where they were made. There's a massive difference there. In my own studies, I've done the same for everyone between Zola to Steinbeck, and I've definitely given Joanne Katherine Rowling's flagship series more of a critical eye.

Just - not in the way I'd assume most people would appreciate, these days. The Potterverse, if you will, is one that's effectively designed to be formative for younger readers, and one that quite visibly predates the author's drift towards reactionary politics. You can spot weak shades of it in some places, like Dumbledore's tokenistic referral as a gay man, but the series actually strives for inclusiveness. As to why trans characters never came into play, I'd chalk it up to ignorance and lack of comfort. I'm only a cis and bi man, and it took me years of study and careful attention to work past my own fears and workshop a trans character that wouldn't be - hopefully - much of an offense to anyone. Rowling herself simply never had that chance, or never took it once it was offered.

Obviously, she won't take it now even if it's offered. Her later works are disturbingly facile, in the sense that most skilled authors tend to use their external voice to provide mere observations and not to unsubtly pass judgement - an aspect in which she now repeatedly fails. Her posture can still be extricated from what she's written under the name of Robert Galbraith, but it has the relative finesse of a Ben Shapiro wish-fulfillment fantasy. Considering, I find it quite easy to draw a line between the Potter Era and the Post-Potter Era. There's a bitterness at play in her later works that just isn't present in what actually serves as her juvenilia, effectively.

There's a young and hopeful JKR drawing sketches in a café, and then there's the frustrated and bitter woman pulling increasingly desperate pleas for relevance. The lines couldn't possibly be any clearer.

So - let's assume you've effectively killed Rowling in the sense used by Narratology theorists and removed her from any consideration in her works. Can you play Hogwarts Legacy knowing that a small, if not insignificant portion of its royalties are going to go to Rowling's pockets?

Yes. How, you might ask?

Pirate it. If the Wizarding World still matters to you, pirate the fuck out of this one. Rip her books and upload raw PDFs to your Kindle. Considering the game's dev history, I'm sure plenty of employees in Avalanche itself would give you their blessing.

The Death of the Author absolutely does apply - especially in a situation where means exist to obtain the media involved at no cost whatsoever beyond your own bandwidth.

[rreskk]

HEADCANONS: Trevor Philips (long edition)

TW: -Sexual and suggestive content -Mentions of drugs

-Have been in and out of pyschwards since childhood to adulthood. His mental health record is bombarded with therapists desperate for referrals and struggling for an accurate diagnosis.

-Babies absolutely hate Trevor. Being near him causes them to cry and cause a scene. He doesn’t even have to do anything to make them cry, being there is enough.

-Used to go to festivals regularly before meeting Michael to sell drugs for easy money (earning enough to skip rented rooms).

-Was apart of a punk band in his later teens but was kicked out for fighting the other members, but also starting a riot in an underground bar when he was supposed to be performing. He played guitar, occasionally backup vocalist.

-Trevor used to go to theatre clubs in his early childhood but his mother couldn’t afford to keep him in the classes (or couldn’t be bothered).

-He looks more like his mother than his father.

-Has a bed-wetting problem, even now (due to his drug abuse and… Well, inability to control his bladder).

-He made Michael help groom his moustache back in North Yankton.

-Has nightmares about jerking off too much that his dick won’t work.

-Trevor will reference hardcore literature quotes but will REFUSE to read any fictional book.

-Can go without blinking for over 5 minutes.

-Believed in Santa until he was 14 years old.

-His voicemail would be like this: *peeing in the background* If you ain’t sucking my meth or dick, fuck off or I’ll come over and rip your scalp off with a butterknife.

-Tried to pose for a mugshot back in North Yankton when he was arrested for drink driving… He tried to pull out his penis and jerk off for the picture but got tackled and restrained.

-Would often find himself trying on strangers high-heels in nightclubs and will proceed to test run in them (one time he fell and broke his nose because of it).

-One Halloween party back in the Mid-West, he dressed as a slutty-priest and ended up sleeping with an actual priest.

-Bites his toe-nails.

-Is a good drawer (but soooo bad at painting).

-Definitely has an eBay account, where he sells used underwear (saying they’re untouched and new) and broken Car Wheels so he can send them off and get money from scamming people.

-Has a collection of panties from hookers and strippers (he uses them sometimes).

-He has MASSIVE feet. I’m talking like… He has to buy boots from military websites because none in shops would fit him.

-Secretly has a fetish of Christian women (and taking their virginity) – This is inspired by Type O Negative’s song: Christian woman.

-Owned a dirt bike before story-mode but he had it taken away by cops (and since hasn’t had it returned).

-Used to make fake female moaning sounds in public places then pretend it wasn’t him so he can watch people argue and fight.

-Has a weakness for women in general. If you’re a lady and you want to buy meth, he’ll lower the prices and will try and persuade you to “spend quality time with your dealer to build trust and foundation” which basically means… So he can finger and have sex with you.

-Has attachments to his flings and hookers (will most likely spam call them when he’s sad or bored).

-His favourite movie is probably pulp fiction or Texas Chainsaw Massacre.