#i didn't sign up for it but i really do know a fucking ridiculous amount about this -one- song like holy hell

[xiaowhore]

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

[certified-bi]

Okay all my thoughts because some people have been saying that not supporting this change is not supporting artist and creators and as an artist fuck that.

1. Audiences owe you nothing. You have to convince them to engage with your creation not the other way around. This is something both the nonprofit theatre I work with recognizes and huge companies realize. It's just part of life. There are so many talented people in the world making amazing art, videos, music, writings, and on and on, and there's only so much time in the day. I'm not saying you shouldn't know your worth, just that being flippant about how little you care about those who can't pay isn't a good move. On that note...

2. PR is everything. If you haven't made a visible effort to push patreon, channel memberships or other avenues of making money, don't be suprised that your creation that was previously accessible to those without extra cash and to those who can't support foreign subscriptions due either to conversions or because it simply doesn't work, being made private isn't popular. There's a big leap from "We want to have more artistic control" to "We can't afford to make our content accessible to most of our audience," and people are smart enough to see this. You either have to make budget cuts or give into sponsors. This isn't unique to Watcher, it's part of literally every production from broadway, to Hollywood, to YouTube. Unless you can fund it yourself or get viewers to pay(which given how many are already strapped for cash...) that's life.

Not to mention they simply do not have enough followers to make the switch to a paid only site(dropping the first epsiode only on YouTube isn't going to draw people in, they're just going to say "oh why start if I'm not going to see the rest" and not watch) especially not one that is buggy and a security risk. Even if the switch had been supported its not going to end well. The only reason services like nebula and dropout work is because of the large amount of series and creators and the fact those creators still are partly on YouTube so new people are drawn in.

3. As for the price, 6 dollars a month is a not a good starting price for only their content and that's as someone who pays for nebula. I'd be paying the same amount for a fraction of the access to others work. Actually it'd be twice as much. And before someone says "it's only a coffee-" that's for you. Not everyone has your lifestyle. And with every other patreon and subscription service that says the same thing, it all adds up and I simply don't think 60 dollars for 48 videos a year on a subscription basis where you don't get to keep the videos if your situation changes, some of which don't appeal to every viewer is a good move. If you were able to buy physical copies of your favorite series they've made that'd be different, but that's not what this is.

4. I do believe that the employees deserve a livable wage. I also did not hire them. It is not on the viewers that they hired more people than they could afford to. They can charge that much if they want to to try and balance this out. They also shouldn't be suprised if not many can or will sign up. They also don't have to be based in L.A. L.A has ridiculous costs associated with it, and quite honestly it doesn't really add much to the content. I'm not saying they need to move to the middle of nowhere Kansas. Simply that living and basing your studio in a super expensive city and then being suprised money is tight is just weird.

5. Something that occurs to me is that they might get more views if their playlists were better set up. Only some series are given playlists. It'd be easier to find all of the series and binge them if they didn't just show off their more popular shows. Honestly the only draw the streaming site has to me is that the series are actually labeled well.

Do I think the weird ass energy towards Steven is necessary? No. He's not the only one at the company and they're all adults. I actually liked grocery run and homemade, and like to see them back. The parascoial attachment to Ryan and Shane is annoying in people's criticisms, but that doesn't make them completely wrong. If you're going to brand yourself as the anti capalist underdogs you can't get away with being dismissive of your poorer fans. The dissonance is what is causing this backlash and makes you look like hypocrites. I definitely think Steven is turning into the fall guy which is fucked up, his statement and the fact dish granted is one of those shows that make people uncomfortable about wealth flexs doesn't help matters.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter III

It's late, and the last thing I expect to find at my nightly workout is my little bro, dressed up like a personal trainer. He looks ridiculous in that cheesy uniform, not to mention the light pouring out of his skull and the smile stamped into his face! I guess the little idiot signed up for Moonlight™: that was one helluva mistake!

"Good evening, sir," my brother speaks as if we hadn't grown up together, "Is there any way I can aid your fitness journey tonight?"

Hearing Ryan call me 'sir' brings a devious grin to my own face. I've bullied this kid for years, and now he's kissing my ass like well-trained puppy. Thanks to Moonlight™, my annoying little bro is just a mind controlled employee who doesn't realize his brother's here, let alone embarrassing him! I wish I could get my entire family implanted with these little Moonlight™ things. Messing with them would be hilarious!

"Oh yeah," I sneer, "And what's string bean gonna do for a guy like me?"

"Well, sir, as a personal trainer here at Planet Fitness, I'll gladly demonstrate how to use the machines, spot patrons with heavy-lifting, and return equipment when finished."

God, he sounds even more annoying than usual! "You really think a someone like you could spot me?" I scoff and bring my bicep to his face, flexing it inches away from his perpetually open eyes.

"Actually, sir, this body can lift 260 lbs on the bench press without injury. The load you have is well-enough below to ensure that I may be of service. Still sir, the weight you're lifting is a very respectable amount," Ryan's smile beamed at me, but mine fell.

"Whatever, I'll be fine," I retort, "Just stand over there and mop up my sweat when I'm done."

"Yes, sir."

My little brother takes a step back as I get ready to lift. As stupid as he looks, standing there waiting on me to finish, he also looks pretty fit. His company polo might be sweaty and gross, but it's tight against his improving physique. He's clearly been lifting a lot while he's been working here, but his gains should not count if Moonlight™ is the one actually working out that pathetic little body! The only way he could bulk up was by becoming a fucking puppet! Talk about sad!

"Fuck!" I grunt, tossing the barbell back as I finish. I did a few extra sets to prove a point and now my arms are on fire. "Towel!" I snap.

"Yes, sir," Ryan rushes over and wipes the sweat off my brow. I just laugh in his face.

"I think I got some sweat on my sneakers too," I jab, "You can wipe them off and then put twenty more pounds on the bar."

"Of course, sir."

My brother gets on his knees with the towel, giving my sneakers a cursory buff. I don't know what personal trainer has shoe-shining in his job description, but I've heard these Moonlight™ employees can be pretty pliant. Apparently, you can make them do quite a bit with the loopholes in their programming. Maybe I can get Ryan here to do something even more embarrassing than polishing his big bro's shoes!

The next week, I worked out every night.

Turns out, bullying my little bro was great motivation to go to the gym! When I saw him during the day, I never mentioned the fact that I knew; didn't want to scare him off. At night, I had every opportunity to take out my frustrations on him. If he pissed me off during the day, I could boss him around at the gym, ordering him to follow me around and wipe down every piece of equipment. I could call him whatever names I wanted and yell at him as loudly as I pleased; he had to just stand there with the best customer service smile and say "yes, sir."

Playing around with Ryan was fun, but it wasn't until I went out for a drink that I ran into my second brother. I guess he had the same idea to get hired with Moonlight™...

"Can I fix you a drink, sir?" my brother, the middle child, yells over the club's EDM.

"What the hell?" I shout, "Ryan's dumb enough to Moonlight™, but I didn't think you were!"

Sam just stares back with the same flashlight eyes and widely stretched lips. Of course his programming won't let him do anything outside of bartending! He's probably not even conscious in there! Ryan was always a bit of an impulsive twerp, so I wasn't surprised to see him Moonlighting™, but Sam is different. He'd said he'd never put his body to work at night. Something about the behavior of Moonlighters™ always rubbed him the wrong way...I guess he changed his mind.

"A round of beers," I tell him, warily gesturing to the back corner, "For me and our crew."

Sam's glowing stare looks over my shoulder and sees our friends, the guys we both hang out with, "Yes, sir. I'll have it right out for you."

I return to our pals, anxious for my brother to follow. Sam is only a year younger than myself, so we run around with the same crowd, yet he didn't recognize any of our buds. Now he's about to serve them like a fucking waiter. My catatonic brother is about to walk into the most humiliating situation of his life. I just get to sit back and watch!

"Sam?" one of them asks a moment later.

"Here are your beers, sir," my brother plucks the bottles off his tray and sets them out for each of his friends, completely oblivious to their stunned reactions, "Is there anything else I can get any of you?"

"Holy crap, dude!" another pal turns to me, "Since when did your brother start Moonlight? He looks like a total idiot!"

Sam doesn't seem to register the insult.

"I don't know man," I laugh, "Tonight, I guess."

"Fetch us some napkins," one guy quips with an amused flick of his hand.

"Right away, sir." Sam answers a little too promptly, and whisks away.

"Right away, sir, Ha!" the guy repeats with a mock salute, "We've gotta mess with him!"

Sam returns, obediently passing out napkins, but I'm finding it harder to meet his gaze while he's grinning so manically. This situation is starting to feel more awkward than hilarious. These guys will never let him live this down!

"Sam, get over here and give this paying customer a sloppy BJ!"

My brother stiffens, and for a second a jolt of fear runs down my spine, terrified that Moonlight™ will actually make him comply. Pranks are all good and fun, but I do not want to see my brother about to blow another dude!

"I apologize, sir," he finally resumes, "That is not part of my responsibilities as bartender."

Thank God.

"Then get something to clean this up," he laughs wildly, "You spilled my beer!" Our friend then pours half his drink on the crotch of his jeans, staring at Sam with the amused eyes of a drunk fool. This guy always gets weird after a few drinks. I don't know why we still bring him along. Normally, we just ignore him.

"Of course, sir," Sam answers attentively.

For the next ten minutes, I sit in silent horror as my brother returns with a rag, proceeding to get on his knees and wipe down another man's crotch with painful dedication. Of course, our friends are all howling with laughter at this point, taking video evidence that they can embarrass Sam with later.

It feels like a lifetime, but Sam finally stands up, "I hope I cleaned that up well enough for you, sir."

The guy feels at his wet jeans, saying, "I don't know if that's good enough, bitch."

"I'm sorry, sir, let me try ag-"

"No! It's my turn," someone else cuts in, pushing his way to the front, "You spilled some on my ass that needs cleaned up!"

The gang loses it, doubling over with laughter as Sam prepares to spend the next ten minutes wiping down another guy's ass, but I've had enough, "No! We're done here, thank you. Go close our tab," I bark.

"Yes, sir," Sam turns on his heel. His dumb obedience is more disturbing than entertaining at this point.

Our friends all give me a hard time for sending him away, but I'm not having it. Maybe I'm not drunk enough, but they're enjoying this a lot more than I am. At this point, I'm ready to call it a night and go home, so I say my goodbyes and head for the exit.

The walk home isn't a far one, but I pass a few notable places on the way: one being my dad's dark office building. Our old man has been working late nights there lately. In the dimly lit lobby, I recognize someone...

"Dad?" I gasp.

"Good evening, sir," my father says to me without any note of familiarity in his voice.

"Wait, you're moonlighting too?" it comes out as more of an accusation, but at this point I'm fed up with finding family members secretly working random mind-controlled night jobs.

"I am a security guard employed through the Moonlight™ corporation," his gravelly voice sounds foreign, delivering these programmed prompts, "If you'd like, sir, I can help you apply for a Moonlight™ position, and you can start making the most of your sleeping hours too!"

"Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea, dad?" I ask, knowing this stupid security guard persona isn't capable of answering.

"He didn't."

The voice of someone else in the room sends shivers down my spine. I whip around, and see a gangly, middle-aged man stepping forward.

"Jeff?"

"Hi, Jamie," my uncle says, sauntering up to his far taller brother and resting an arm on his shoulder. My dad's attentive posture doesn't waver. He just keeps on acting like the perfect sentry for the building and the perfect armrest for his brother.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on!?"

He sniffles and sighs like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Yes, I suppose this charade of mine was doomed to be found out sooner or later. I put your father in the Moonlight™ database. He was just wasting his sleeping hours at home in his bed, and he'd always refuse to let me sign him up, so I did it in secret. He makes a great guard. Right Tom?"

Uncle Jeff claps my dad on the back, prompting him to announce a proud, "Yes, sir!"

"See," my uncle turns back to me, "No harm done. Your old man gets paid to stand around in his sleep. Its harmless!"

"But he doesn't know!" I yell, seething at my uncle's sheer abuse of his place in the company, "This has to be illegal, and are you just pocketing Dad, Ryan, and Sam's salaries?"

He rolls his eyes, "I am right now, but the four of you don't even make that much."

"Did you just say the four of us?" I grunt.

"Oops," he holds a hand to his forehead and curses under his breath.

"AM I FUCKING MOONLIGHTING WHILE I SLEEP TOO?" I am screaming at this point, "You're fucked up!" I bark. Angrily, I stomp towards my uncle, but my father takes a firm step planting himself between me and the man. His steady palm is holding the baton at his belt, making me nervous. Is my dad about to beat me up for this creep?

"Excuse me, sir," my dad smiles at my uncle, "Would you like me to escort this man out of the building?"

"That won't be necessary," my uncle says, "I'll just trigger his Moonlight™ shift to start now. You can go back to standing in the corner"

"Yes, sir," my security guard father answers placidly, returning to his attentive stance.

"You wouldn't," I snarl.

"Oh, trust me, I will. As I understand it, overriding a subject's body while awake means you'll be fully conscious. I'll work on something to make you forget this whole incident later."

He presses a few buttons on an ipad, and suddenly my vision is engulfed in a purple haze. My back straightens, my muscles relax, and I feel my face contorts into a giant smile. Suddenly, my entire body seems to be gone from my grasp, and I'm constrained to a tiny space in my head while something else takes over.

"Enjoy your shift," my uncle snickers with a glare.

"Thank you, sir. I will," I feel my voice pushed out of my throat with an excited tone that isn't mine. Before I know it, my legs are carrying me away from my uncle, leaving him with my father, to march down the dark street...

"Here's your order, sir," my voice has the trademarked Moonlight™ eagerness in it as I reach out the window and hand over the meal.

"Fuck off, sleep-freak!" the teen in the driver's seat flips me off, making his immature friends cackle as they speed off. I can't do anything but smile and watch as they weave away. They have no idea I'm actually conscious in here.

After being forced to leave my uncle, I found myself striding into a fast food restaurant through its backdoor. I could instantly tell the place wasnt anywhere I'd eat at because the dumpster smelled like soggy fries and old meat. The kitchen was a fluorescent-lit pit, with a thick feeling of oil hanging in the air. I could barely take in the surroundings before I was changing out of my clothes by some lockers. I was horrified that Moonlight™ was making me fucking strip, but before long my hands were pulling on new clothes: a uniform. The polo felt like it'd been sitting at the bottom of the locker since the last shift, drying in sweat, and the pants were sticky with something unidentifiable. I was mortified to be pulling on a fucking hairnet and apron, but I had no choice.

"Blondie's here early," a smoker's voice purred from behind me. I had a bad feeling he'd been standing there for a while, watching.

"Hello boss," my voice answers, apparently recognizing the overweight, unshaved creep, "I'm ready to start my shift, sir! Where am I needed today?"

I watched as the man licked his stubbly lips, his beady eyes crawling all over me. Without any shame, his sweaty palm groped the growing bulge in his khakis. He was obviously happy to see me, and he probably thought I couldn't actually see him! I guess, every fucking night that my uncle's made me work in my sleep, I've been under the supervision of THIS pervert!?

"Get to the fryer," his scratchy throat moaned, "You know I want you to get nice and sweaty for later."

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to work up a sweat for you," I answer, confused and disturbed by my response. The cheer in my voice did not match the overwhelming gloom I felt when the man slapped my ass. His hand lingered on my rear for too long, but I couldn't even frown.

Since then, I've been boiling fries and flipping burgers. Every so often I have to hand an order out the window, but my heart races every time I do. Three orders ago, the customer threw their soda back at my coworker, he's a fairly average guy in his thirties, and he was dowsed in Coca-Cola. It didn't keep Moonlight™'s programming from working: he just kept manning the grill, smiling, eyes glowing, and hair dripping with cherry flavored juice.

"Ouch!" at least, that's what I want to say. The oil sizzles and pops, and a few drops of hot grease splatter onto my arm, but I don’t flinch. The control won’t let me.

Suddenly I feel someone leaning in behind me. My spine shivers as my manager says, "It's closing time, Blondie. I'll send everyone home so you and I can clean up like usual." He whispers it in my ear, with his flabby arms wrapped around me like we're fucking lovers! I wish I could vomit!

"Sounds good, boss," I find myself saying.

One by one, the manager dismisses each of my moonlighting coworkers. I can't help but feel jealous as they strip out of their uniforms by the door. It isn't just that they get to leave; they also have the luxury of not knowing what's going on. They're all asleep. I'd give anything to at least be unaware of whatever this fucking pervert is about to do!

My body is preoccupied with whatever shit needs to be done for closing, wiping down the tables, taking out the trash, and more.

"Mop time," the manager suddenly announces, holding the raggedy thing out expectantly.

"Yes, sir," my voice answers, and I drop what I'm doing to accept the mop. The crotch of his pants is unzipped, but my bodies already turned away from him, turning all my attention to swab the tiles floor.

"You're doing it wrong again, Blondie," he purrs slowly, "I'm gonna have to help you like usual."

"Thank you, sir," my voice sounds grateful, but I am anything but. The pervert presses his rotund body against my back and holds my muscular arms with his own chubby ones. I can feel his penis poking into me below his gut, but my body accepts his touch like he's just a boss helping out an employee.

I guess this asshole found a loophole in Moonlight™'s fucking programming. He's going to touch me all he wants under the guise of demonstrating the right way to mop.

The creep spends the next ten minutes guiding my arms back and forth. "Fuck, you're bubble butt feels even better than usual, Blondie," he breathes in my ear. If I had control of my muscles, he wouldn't stand a chance, but right now, they're putty in my boss's arms. Meanwhile, his waist gets busy dry humping his chode into my rear end. "I'm so glad a jock like you was dumb enough to try Moonlight!" he grunts, his tongue dangerously close to my ear. I can only thank God that he can't take my pants off! After several painful minutes of him spitting more disgusting comments onto my cheek, his arms drop mine and plant themselves on my chest. His hands sloppily grope my pecs and pinch my nipples. I've never felt more pathetic. The man makes one final exclamation, "FUUUCK!" and I can tell he has finally gotten off.

"Thanks for the help, boss," I find myself saying.

With heavy breaths, he staggers back. The sudden open air on my back makes me realize just how hot and sweaty that slob was, and I can feel the slimy remnants of his balls slipping down my back and legs.

"Good job as always, Blondie," he breathes heavily with satisfaction.

"Thank you, sir," I answer. My voice hasn't lost its awful chipper quality, and my face is still stuck in a smile like I hadn't just been taken advantage of.

"Finish mopping up, and then you can lock up and clock out," he winks as if we shared some inside joke. I hate that all he sees is my smile.

"Yes, sir," I answer, but the creep has already waddled out of the building and slammed the door shut.

The sudden silence is unbearable. It makes the monotonous task of mopping the sticky floors all the more unpleasant. What's worse is that I can't pause to wash the manager's cum off my back. It soaks into my pants as I work, trapped in my own body. At least I know why these pants are so sticky. Honestly, I hope Uncle Jeff will wipe my memory...

[leafjoon]

When you get like this

Words: around 3k

Warnings: smut, swearing, alcohol, minor mention of violence, jealousy, rough sex, degradation, dom!alex, sub!reader, daddy kink (only mentioned once), aftercare.

You and Alex had planned to go to Jamie's birthday party.

You weren't particularly excited since all you wanted to do was spend time with your boyfriend, cuddle and laze around in your apartment. Lately, it had been work, work and only work for the both of you. You hadn't had much time for, well, anything. Needless to say you were feeling more than just a little bit sexually frustrated.

"Babe, I know, I'm sorry. We'll just hang around for a couple of hours for Jamie and get going okay? Promise." Alex pleaded trying to convice you.

"Ugh I know. Its not that I don't wanna be there for Jamie, I'm just grumpy and tired and I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. So much." He says while enveloping you in a gentle hug.

He pressed his lips on your cheek and gave you a pleading look.

"Fine. Lets go get ready."

"Thank you, darling. I'll make it up to you tonight." He said in a gentle tone.

Well, you were definitely excited now.

*

The party was in full swing when you arrived, albeit slightly late because it took you a little longer than usual to get ready.

You looked gorgeous, wearing your favorite short red dress that always left Alex drooling for you. It gave your thighs just the perfect amount of coverage, stopping mid-thigh, driving him crazy.

"Fuck babe, you know what that dress does to me." he said groaning.

"Really?" You said teasingly, fully knowing the way he was going to eye you up all night.

His friends were already smashed and you had some catching up to do, so you started ordering drinks at the bar and downing a shot of tequila or two.

You and Alex were catching up with Jamie and Miles, sharing stories and having a laugh. You guys had all taken turns to tell each other the most ridiculous thing you've done while drunk.

They started teasing you after you told them about that one time you were out partying with your girlfriends at a club and a man had smacked your friends ass. You, being shitfaced naturally punched him square in the face out of instinct. After that, security intervened but not without questioning you and throwing your friends out. This left you and your friends frustrated since you were only protecting yourselves from assault but it made for a funny story.

"You know, (Y/N) I never took you for a violent person, but now that you told us I don't know how I didn't see the signs earlier." Miles said and cackled.

"Yeah, I ought to be careful not to upset you now." Jamie continued.

"I can't believe you guys didn't notice before." Alex said dramatically.

"What are you talking about Alex, that's not true!" you said while hitting his chest lightly.

"Oh, there it is!" Miles exclaimed and you all started laughing.

"I'm just teasing you babe." Alex whispered in your ear and snaked his hand around your waist, which sent a shiver down your spine.

You shot him a playful look and you gazed into each others eyes for a few seconds.

After looking away you noticed a familiar figure standing a few feet from you. You weren't sure if your eyes were deceiving you. When he turned around fully you recognized him. It was your ex-boyfriend Thomas! More specifically the guy you had dated throughout college.

You had broken up because you both had different aspirations for your lives and knew it wouldn't work out long distance. The break-up had been amicable and you still held respect for each other and talked when your paths crossed. This time was no different.

"Oh my god, Thomas, is that you?" You called out.

He looked at you and it took him a second to take you in. "Oh my god! (Y/N)! I haven't seen you in so long!"

"What are you doing here?".

"You mean in London, or this party?"

"Both!"

"Miles invited me."

"No kidding!"

"Thomas was my flatmate for a little while after college. How do you guys know each other?" Miles chimed in.

"You're kidding right? We dated in college." You exclaimed.

Alex perked up after hearing this and felt a bit strange at how excited you were to see him.

"This is so weird. How do you all know each other?" Thomas asked.

"Well we all met her through Alex here." Said Jamie.

"Oh, nice meeting you mate." He extended his hand to Alex with a smile.

"Likewise." Alex muttered returning the handshake.

While Jamie and Thomas exchanged pleasantries, you failed to notice Alex's gaze on you.

"So how have you been? What brings you to London?"

"I've been great! I came here to visit my mum."

You guys started catching up and were talking for about 10 minutes while the boys were chatting about something else.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure!"

"Still a vodka sour girl?"

"Yes. How do you remember that?"

"(Y/N), we dated for years. How could I not?" He chuckled.

"Fair point." You laughed.

Alex clenched his jaw when he saw Thomas bring you a drink. He wasn't sure if he was being irrational or if it was strange for your ex boyfriend to chat you up for this long. The thought left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

After a little while,  you excused yourself from Thomas and told him that it was great catching up. He asked for your number and said you guys should hang out sometime. You thought that was a little weird but complied anyways. You figured he just wanted a friend.

You found Alex on a couch with Jamie and Miles all downing their drinks.

"Drinking your sorrows away tonight, boys?"

"Does it look like that?" asked Miles.

"We were just reminiscing on our youth." said Jamie sighing.

"Always a fun topic." You said while sitting down next to Alex.

"Where'd your friend go?" he asked.

"Oh I said goodbye to him. Wanted to join you guys."

"Nice." He muttered.

You noticed he was acting strange and didn't know if you had struck a cord by hanging out with Thomas.

Alex wasn't a particularly jealous man but he did get insecure from time to time. Although he never had anything to worry about with you, especially after reassuring him time and time again that you only had eyes for him.

"D'ya wanna go soon, love?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm getting a bit tired."

*

After a while you decided to get up and say goodbye to your friends. You noticed Alex was being silent and gripped your hand more roughly than usual. He lead you to the car and opened the door for you.

You mumbled a 'thanks' and got in.

While driving you turned on the radio and 12:51 by the Strokes was playing.

'Friday nights have been lonely, change your plans and then phone me.'

You were mouthing the words to the song and wanted to ask Alex if everything was okay.

Before you got a chance to do that, he put his hand on your thigh. You were slightly taken aback but put your hand on top of his.

He started gently stroking your thigh. You let out a sigh, observing his big hand gripping you. You definitely had a thing for his hands.

His hand began to inch closer to your crotch. Your breath hitched.

Your dress was giving him full liberty.

"Alex..what are you doing?" You said in a whisper.

"Nothing." He said cheekily.

He squeezed your thigh. You were getting a little worked up and he knew exactly what he was doing.

He removed his hand while stopping at a red sign. You squeezed your thighs together a little, trying to give yourself some stimulation to your growing arousal.

Alex noticed and asked "What are you doing?"

You were confused. "What do you mean?"

"You get to squeeze your thighs when I tell you to, alright babe?" He said while turning to look at you. His eyes were filled with lust.

Fuck. Fucking alright. "Okay." you muttered.

After a while he returned his hand to your inner thigh, pulling a little and causing your legs to spread. He was driving you crazy. He continued stroking and you remained silent for the rest of the drive.

Fuck, you thought. You knew where this was going. Alex rarely got like this but sometimes when you were feeling bratty, you teased him relentessly, which brought out his dominant and bossy side. Although this time around you didn't do anything to provoke him, you thought.

When you arrived at your apartment you quickly took off your shoes and jacket and got yourself a glass of water.

Alex followed you and stopped behind you. After a few seconds he pressed himself against you and put his hands on your stomach and waist.

"You looked really sexy tonight, you know." He whispered in your ear, hands roaming on your abdomen sometimes going a little lower.

"I know." You muttered putting your hands on top of his.

"Oh you do, don't you?"

"Yes Alex, course." you said furrowing your brows.

"Talking back huh? You in that mood babe?"

You whined quietly and pressed your head on his shoulder. You were squirming and soaking your underwear.

"Are you this worked up just from a few words?" He said while stroking your inner thigh once again.

"Yes.. and what about it huh?" You sighed loudly.

"You're such a brat." he said while turning you around and gripping your jaw to press his lips on yours hungrily.

You moaned loudly and pressed yourself against his body.

You made out, slipping your tongues into each others mouth's messily while your hands shamelessly roamed your bodies, groping whatever you could find.

"Alex.." you moaned.

"What?" He asked in a flat tone.

"Need you.."

"What do you need?"

"Fuck..you know what I need."

"You're gonna answer when I ask you something."

God, you thought. You might just burst right then and there. "Need you to fuck me..please."

He chuckled. "Begging already, my pretty baby? We haven't even done anything yet." He said while holding the back of your neck and pressed his lips gently on yours.

He brought his hands between your legs gently rubbing your clit.

"Fuck, Alex" you moaned breathlessly.

"Yes babe?"

"Feels good."

He continued for a few minutes.

"Too bad" he said and stopped.

"Alex!" You whined.

"You didn't think I was gonna give it to you that easily, did ya?"

You rolled your eyes at him and he gripped your face "Don't you roll your eyes at me."

Fuck. You wanted to talk back so bad but you knew he would just make you suffer more.

He softened a little and said "Let's go to bed." while taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom.

He pushed you down and climbed on top of you immediately attacking your neck, biting, sucking and kissing while pressing his hard length on your arousal.

You gripped his hair and tried to grind on him but he held your hips down as to stop your movements.

"You can move when I allow you to. Got it?"

You nodded.

"Answer me."

"Yes."

"Good girl."

You moaned at the words and he smiled, knowing how much that turned you on.

He slipped your dress past your tits and grabbed them. He buried in face in them, inhaling your scent and moaning. He stayed there for a few moments then wrapped his mouth on one of your breasts, sucking it while flicking the nipple of the other one.

"Fuck, Alex." you whispered. You absolutely loved when he played with your breasts since your nipples were sensitive.

He switched and started sucking on the other one, giving it much needed attention.

You were aching for him down there and you knew it wasn't easy for him to have no stimulation but damn, he was determined to make you suffer tonight.

He pulled back and ordered you to slip out of your dress and watched you struggle with it.

"Can't do anything without my help huh? You're pathetic babe."

His words went straight to your arousal.

You were almost completely naked while he was still in his clothes. You pulled at his shirt and he watched you as you unbuttoned it. When you got down to his belt, he grabbed your hands and pinned them back to your head. "Not so fast, sweetheart."

He started grinding on your clit and you became a moaning mess in a matter of seconds.

"Fuck, Alex!"

He moaned quietly while staring into your eyes. "You're mine, you know that right?"

You stared at him, not responding, knowing it would drive him mad.

"Say it."

"Say what?"

He took one hand and smacked your thigh hard.

"Fuck!"

He smacked it again pulling a "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours" out of you.

"Good girl."

"Alex please, I can't take it anymore."

"I know babe." he said gently seeing how worked up he got you. He pressed his mouth on yours slipping his tongue inside and tasting you.

He pulled back and stroked himself a little through his clothes, looking painfully hard in his slacks. God what a sight to see.

He then leaned down and started sucking and biting your inner thigh.

"Alex, can you smack my thighs again?" You pleaded shyly.

He looked at you with with full blown lust in his eyes. "You're such a slut." He muttered.

You whined.

Fulfilling your request, he smacked them hard a few times, causing your skin to turn pink.

You moaned loudly and gripped his shoulders.

He then removed your panties, revealing your wet arousal. "God, you're soaking. All for me?"

"Yes.."

He took two fingers and played with your wet folds then brought his thumb to your clit, giving you much needed stimulation. You moaned while he played with your sensitive nub.

You whined loudly when he slipped one finger inside and heard him say "such a pretty pussy", fingering you. He insterted another finger, turning you into a moaning mess. You gripped his arms and pressed your nails into his skin, knowing you would leave a mark.

After a while he slipped his fingers out of you and started sucking on them wanting to taste you. "So good." he moaned.

"Alex.." you whispered slightly tearing up from the stimulation.

"What it is babe?" He asked gently. "Need me to fuck you like the slut you are?"

"Fuck, yes please!"

He returned to you and gave you a few kisses, cupping your face. Letting out a deep breath he sat up. He ordered you to turn around and get down on your fours.

You turned around, ass up, resting your face on your pillow anticipating what was to come. You heard him unbuckle his belt, pull down his zipper and slip off his clothes.

He took out the lube from the bedside drawer and make sure you were both lubed up and comfortable.

You waited impatiently as he lined his cock with your entrance and started teasing your folds with his tip.

"Ughh, Alex." you whined.

You tried pushing down on him but he gripped your hips tightly and said "Fuck, you want this cock badly huh? Want me to fill your pretty cunt and fuck you silly?"

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you muttered a quiet "Please.."

"Daddy'll take care of your pussy babe".

He started inserting his cock into you slowly, pulling out a moan out of you. He let you adjust to him before he started moving at a tantalizingly slow pace just to tease you. Putting one hand on your lower back and the other gripping your hip he started moving faster giving you what you needed leaving you a shaking mess.

"Alex!" You moaned loudly.

"You like that?"

"Yes, please, don't stop".

"Fuck." he moaned as he fucked into you.

"God, you're mine. Say it slut".

"I'm yours, I'm fucking yours".

Filthy noises were filling the room as he pounded into you filling you up completely. You were at his mercy.

He brought up a hand to your clit and started rubbing it, driving you crazy. His other hand smacked your ass hard, leaving an imprint.

"Fuck!" You shouted.

"I love you Alex-" "I love you too."

He knew you were getting close by the way you were slamming yourself into his cock sloppily and falling silent, your mouth forming into a 'O'.

"Are you close baby?"

You only whined, not being able to say anything. He continued fucking you and you gripped the sheets feeling yourself slowly getting closer to your climax.

"You gonna cum on my cock?"

You screamed, seeing only white, letting go on his cock, clenching and convulsing while he gripped your hip and rode you through your orgasm, still stimulating your clit.

Alex was getting close himself, your orgasm sending him over the edge. "Fuck (Y/N)!" he moaned loudly and started releasing his hot load inside you, rolling his eyes and fucking into you as he finished his climax.

It took a few moments for both of you to calm down from your high. He pulled out of you gently, admiring how his cum dripped out of you. You slumped on the bed not having an ounce of energy to do anything. He laid down beside you, heart still beating loudly. After a few minutes he asked "You okay, babe?".

"Yes." you whispered.

"Hey." he said, putting one hand on your back, urging you to turn and face him.

"Was I too rough?"

You looked into his concerned eyes and shook your head. "No, it was amazing."

He moved closer to you and kissed you gently, stroking your hair. He took you into his arms.

"So, wanna tell me what happened tonight?" You broke the silence.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you don't usually fuck me senseless. Unless I act like a brat."

He chuckled. He hesitated. "I uh-I don't know. Got jealous I guess." He muttered the last part.

"Why?"

"I don't know. That Thomas guy was all over you. Made me feel insecure."

"Babe why? It wasn't like that. He and I are friends. You have nothing to worry about."

"I know that you meant no harm (Y/N) and for you it was probably like catching up with an old friend. But I can tell when a guy has other intentions. I know men."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Not all guys are like that." Even though you knew he was probably right about him. You continued "Either way babe, you have nothing to worry about. I love you, no one else."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

You stayed like that, holding each other for a while.

Later on, you got up to clean yourselves up and took a hot shower. Afterwards you huddled yourselves in your shared covers and fell asleep in each others arms.

[joanofexys]

Hi! Sorry for randomly dropping anon into ur inbox, but I’m kind of in love with ur oc’s and I was wondering if you could tell me more abt Ilya? Ik u said they’re just some guy from Penn state and for some reason that really intrigues me lol.

Never apologize I love anons and I'm so flattered you like my little guys. Also sorry this is gonna take a minute and there will be many typos cause I'm typing one handed on my laptop while eating an icecream/my cat tries to steal my icecream bar, not that you needed that info

ANYWAY litte recap on Ilya:

22 years old

5'5

he/they, transman

youngest of 4, has all sisters

Played for Penn State

Now plays for Olympic Court

Goalie

Number 7

I haven't decided on what he majored in yet

Yeah he really is just some guy. He's the only athlete really in his family. One of his older sisters ran track in high school, but otherwise their family is full of musician. Dad is a middle school orchestra teacher, mom is a music professor, his sisters all went into the arts. He can play a, quite frankly, ridiculous amount of instruments and he enjoys them all but he's not particularly passionate about it.

His parents signed him up for little league exy because he saw exy on the tv once and wouldn't shut up about it/was begging them to play. His parents just wanted all of their kids to be happy so they caved very quickly and Ilya developed an intense passion for the sport that obviously never went away.

Ilya's oldest sister (Liliya) is 7 years older than him, the other one 4 years older (Kateryna or just Kat), and the sister after (Tanya) that only a year and a half older. They're all incredibly close despite any age gaps while also very much having a dynamic of lovingly bullying each other

Ilya kind of always knew he was trans and they were always in a safe space to express it. His parents used to joke that they had "3 girls and an Ilya" and they didn't even bat an eye when as a kid he went straight for the "boys clothes" and asked to be called a prince instead of a princess and only responded to being called a boy. At school it was different, in elementary school other kids didn't care but the teachers could be weird about it, and then as a teen other kids started getting mean about it. But his parents and their sisters were always accepting and they filled their house with enough love that Ilya never thought about being closeted or pretending to be someone he wasn't.

He gets recruited to Penn State's team as their starting goalkeeper as an openly trans athlete. His team's respectful for the most part. There are some people who just don't seem to get it, but they're never outright rude or transphobic to him. There are sometimes snide remarks and something Not Cool said on accident and Ilya is always quick to correct it and most of his teammates are decent enough to apologize and try to do better

And he talks A Lot about being a trans and generally queer athlete. He's happy to be one of those people out and proud for everyone who can't be. Ilya has always, unapologetically, taken up space. Not even focused on his queerness, just in the way he exists as a person. If he's in a room you're going to know he's there and you're probably going to know their every thought as well.

They care a lot and they take everything to heart. They're very much a "don't cry cause you'll make me cry" type of person. He's much more willing to take on people's pain and share their burdens than he probably should be.

And he has zero filter. While he's absolutely paving the way as a queer athlete and he has a lot to say to the press about that his press time also has to be limited because he will just say shit. He has insulted other teams, insulted specific players, shared information that he definitely shouldn't have, said "fuck" on camera too often to keep count, and a lot more. He is keeping the Penn State vs Edgar Allan Ravens twitter discourse alive and well with all the shit that comes out of his mouth

He makes his best friend his junior year. She's a sophomore named Alice and she's a defensive dealer. Her sophomore year she comes as trans, MTF, and Ilya is the first person she tells becuase he's one of the only queer people she knows. After that they're pretty much attached at the hip and Ilya would kill and die for her. Her family isn't super accepting so he takes her home with him for the holidays. His family becomes hers and they're more than happy to add one more girl to the family.

Ilya makes court right after he graduates and it's with Jude, Em, Mara, Florian. you know the drill at this point. They're the ones I never shut up about. And I think I'll largely be repeating myself and I don't want to be annoying with that so we'll stop there

Some other fun things about Ilya though:

he never learned how to ride a bike. he will never ride a bike. fuck no (he fell over and scraped his knee once and despite all the balls to the head playing exy that was his breaking point for some reason and he never got on a bike again)

he's a cat person

he teaches Florian ASL and it's the main they talk to each other cause Florian likes to go nonverbal

they were such a huge fan of Jude it took everything in them to not be starstruck when the two first met

the two instruments they stuck with were the violin and the piano

they have an addiction to strawberries

is almost always playing jazz music on a vinyl when they're home/have people over

he has a shitty autograph and Flor has begged him to "get better handwriting" since he signs so much stuff but he's fine with it being an unreadable disaster (Florian's autograph in comparison is gorgeous)

he is an unapologetic foxes stan after they win finals

[vaspider]

Do you have any advice you're able to give currently on dealing with ableist harassment and dogpiles? It's the whole nine yards - people putting words in our mouth even to the point of claiming we said the opposite of what we said; calling us crazy and insane and saying we should be institutionalized; blaming us for horrific and violent ableist harassment of people who also reblogged the same post we did who disagreed with us; and directly talked over and erased my experiences as a severely disabled person.

(What I said literally boiled down to: "hey, let's not moralize having hobbies because it doesn't make people less capable of harm or more likely to be an asshole, and also please stop saying all disabled people are abled enough to have hobbies because I've been disabled enough before to not be able to have even consumptive (meaning like watching tv or listening to music) hobbies for long stretches of time". There's a similar longer version of that on my personal blog as well, but the harassment is on my shared disability sideblog.)

Like I guess I just... it's okay if people disagree, but the amount of other disabled people who were actively cruel and literally saying people like me don't exist and being so desperate to shut me up talking about my experiences with ableism that they spam harassed the blog is really hard. Like I've been on the internet long enough to know that this is utterly par for the course for disability discourse and even to know that any claim of "can you believe someone said [ridiculous thing] is ableist" is a dogwhistle that it's either manipulation of or outright lies about what the original disabled person actually said in order to shut down the actual conversation but...

I know you've dealt with this, so do you have any more advice on how to handle it than "turn off anon, temporarily turn off asks if necessary, delete the reblog if the harassment gets too much" (already done, mod health comes before discourse as a hard rule)? Especially for like, dealing with the internal emotions about it and not just the situation?

Um also if you don't want to answer this at all feel free to just like, put a stop sign emoji or something and I won't send any more asks about it. I know you publish all asks but since I know this is a stressful subject I still wanna let you know that I will NOT be an unsafe person if you just wanna tell me to fuck off X)

This has been sitting in my inbox for quite a while bc I didn't have the energy to answer it.

There's no one good way to deal with dogpiles, and you've already listed most of them. A couple more, randomly:

Make sure you take time away. Go see a movie bc it'll make you put your phone away, you know?

Have someone else look at your asks and emails so you ain't gotta.

Report shit. It won't really do anything, but it'll make you feel better, anyway.

If you're actually physically threatened or any of the things really twig your "something is really wrong," make a Google Drive folder and stash screenshots in case shit escalates to you needing to talk to law enforcement. If nothing else, it'll help you feel like you're in control.

The last one is more helpful than you'd think.

I hope it's let up for you.

[lemonisntreal]

Do you have a Tone Deaf version of Clay Calloway?

(Perfectly fine if you don't. I was just curious, plus I love all your redesigns) 🦁🎸

SORRY THIS TOOK FUCKING FOREVER LMAO [been sitting in my inbox since FEBRUARY THIRTEENTH, HOLY SHIT :D]. YEAH, here he is :pppp a solid draft for you

Lowkey [highkey] gave up on the clothing wrinkles on the arms, but I still like how it turned out I think. I don't have much on him in terms of rewrite, but I do have some, so I'll dump it all here under the cut.

I swear I love asks, please feel free to say/ask whatever, I'm just horrible at answering in a reasonable time-frame because I always want to make it this beautiful masterpiece and end up turning all of them into full-on posts- or, at least I want to ~_~

Headcanonssss-

Ash gave him that button off her jacket [probably needs to be resized I'm realizing lol] [also I totally adopted this headcanon from someone elses post- might've been yours. Whoever came up with it I love it <3]

Born during the reformation that happened after the war- basically, nobody was really fighting anymore during this time, but some big people in power were still being stupid [aka: not letting their prisoners go]

So that would be somewhere around 1947? Which would put his age at 61 in my universe [which is in 2008- the times are pretty much random, nothing really lines up irl. Ignore how they use tech and other things that shouldn't have been invented yet lol]

He grew up when the Skunk Dolls were new and popular and stuff. And he loved them- so much that the band actually kinda inspired his music career

[Skunk Dolls also made loads of protest songs btw. War stuff]

Takes a ridiculous amount of care with his mane, and if he lets you touch it, that's a true sign of trust

So the Piglets always like to play with it, and Ash has given him braids a few times

He's had that scruffy red jacket since his early days

I should draw patches on it-

Ash probably'll give him a quill or two to put in it too with all the patches and repair stitches

He wears a lot of plaid, I just didn't wanna draw it <3

Rough and torn up clothes too

Everything he owns has some sort of smudge or tear in it from motorbiking and/or just being himself <3

His ears are pierced in almost every way imaginable, and when Ash found out, she went CRAZY

Cue her getting him to try on a bunch of stuff

He likes wrought iron jewelry and has never been a fan of anything with gemstones in it

Buster is terrified of him, but Clay is just kinda a blunt person and it doesn't mix well with Buster sometimes. They get along eventually tho. There was also some really bad timing with the circumstances of how they even met in the first place too lol-

Johnny is also. Super terrified.

Buster and him are like "Ahhh.... that guy scares the living daylights out of me." "Ohh, thank god it's not just me-"

He has a strange out-of-pocket interest in astrology.

And in herbology and plants in general, but he picked that up from Ruby. Astrology was all his, and it is the one thing he will "nerd out" over

Also the kind of guy to make fun of you for nerding out too

Making fun of people is his love language

So is giving people food

He's not great with his words and can find it hard to express love by just telling someone. Back to the bluntness thing, you can often find him accidentally offending someone and he doesn't even realize it

The troupe very quickly learned this and it's more of an endearing trait of his to them [and to most people who know him]

REALLY good cook. Fantastic, in fact. Probably one of the best chefs out of any of the characters.

Learned the hard way that enlisting Buster's help in the kitchen is a bad idea. Also Ash isn't great either, but he actually tries to teach her some of his recipes. And she's quickly improving

Buster was just being an idiot and forgot you shouldn't microwave tinfoil

Clay travels a lot, but spends most of his time in Calatonia [he technically still lives at his and Ruby's house, but he's super scared of accidentally closing himself off again, so he only visits to check up on the flowers and maintain the property pretty much]

He's like Ash's second [and very cool] dad. Which- also intimidates Buster quite a bit :D

I feel like their dynamic could be a sitcom. Clay is Ash's awesome dad and Buster is Ash's lame [endearing] and oddly unhinged and anxious dad who feels like he has to be as cool as Clay [and always fails heehee]

Clay is more entertained by Buster's ridiculous criminal record than horrified and I don't know if that's worrying or just a classic Calloway W

He's a very nonchalant person

Ruby's death is the only time I can really think he had a legitimate emotional break that wasn't just him being snappy [which is also pretty rare]

Clay's also like an uncle to the Piglets

He's kinda just taken up the role of "super awesome miscellaneous family member" for everyone at this point

He's back performing again after Sing 2- just not frequently or putting out any new songs [on his own at least- he might do a collaboration or two with Ash]

[cyberphuck]

Context: my mom's husband used to love to write passive-aggressive "letters" and "notes" and leave them for me instead of talking to me. He and mom also would make me sign "contracts" that forced me to agree to their terms on whatever bullshit they felt like making me do (I did not ever have a say in what was in the contract and didn't really have a choice in whether or not to sign. He and mom started doing this when I was 13). Things were always written in the most condescending way possible, with language that made it seem like I was a criminal being made aware of my punishment and not like, their kid.

Last night I dreamt that I moved back in with my parents (for some reason). In the dream The Husband left a note taped to my bedroom door outlining what rent I would be paying. I clocked that he and mom were actually desperate for money and needed the income that would come from me, so I went to him and told him that I'd pay the ridiculous amount he was asking-- irl they were always like 'you have to give us 66% of everything you earn because you're a horrible crippling financial burden' or whatever, and it was always because they had mismanaged their own money and were actually broke-- but that he would have to sign a contract that just said "I am an idiot." I actually made him sign several, making him re-write it more neatly and with bigger letters to show he was sincere. When he had finally made a version that I would accept, I snatched it from his hand and said, "this is the last little note I'm going to get from you. From now on if you have something to say to me you say it to my fucking face." I also told him that I would be running the household, because I had a much better track record managing finances and getting bills paid on time than either he or mom ever did. (I was also not wearing pants at any point during this discussion because, you know. Dreams.)

It was honestly the best dream I've had in a while.

(There was also a stream running behind the house in the dream, and I realized that the water was steadily rising with more and more debris floating by. I heard a newscast on a nearby TV talking about an incoming flood, and I went to go let everyone know we were gonna have to bug out immediately, but I didn't feel scared or worried about it at all. I woke up and was like "well that seems like some sort of ominous sign.")

[felgueirosa]

if it’s not too triggering, why were you institutionalized for being picky? (If it’s too personal feel free to delete this ask, sorry)

Hi! It's no problem, it is triggering, but i think about it a lot, and it is something i sometimes shared on here, after it just happened, because i was in shock and had to let people know and to reach out like hey? has this happened to anyone else? but right after that it became too hard to put words to and too triggering to talk about so i talked about it less.

but its a story i want to tell now and am becoming more okay with telling, because i want people to know what happens to people, what happened to me, and what could very well happen to me again

and also, it just so happens i have been thinking about it a lot recently and thinking how to tell my story because i have been psyching myself up to tell my girlfriend.

so like. suuuuuuuuper long story below the cut. can be very triggering, its a very upsetting story. tw for like. institutionalization (obvs), suicide, medical abuse, eating disorders, psychiatric abuse, parental abuse (?)

I was kind of institutionalized. At first, it happened almost 9 years ago, I remember the anniversary every year. I was 16, my doctor recommended I be put in a childrens hospital eating disorder program. I have ARFID, no one really knew what it was at the time. I've had it since i was an infant and went from doctor to doctor and no one had ever seen anyone like me or knew what to do. One doctor said I wouldn't live past 21 if I continued to eat the way I do, but clearly that was not the case.

I am forever astounded by the amount of people I run into on here and online in general who identify as having ARFID or being that level of picky eater, though talking with some of them more in depth, it seems like they are often not on the level of pickiness i am on and seem to have experienced less shame and be more open about discussing it though everyone is different and impossible to tell.

I was excited for the program at first before it started. I thought they were going to help me and I would finally be a normal person. I was so tired of being harassed by random strangers, laughed at by waiters, and ridiculed by my family. Every person I made friends with I had to at some point make a terrifying confession to and going on dates (for the small regrettable amount I did it in high school) was near impossible when I had to show the part of myself that I was most ashamed about and hated the most on the first date.

I thought at the program I would find specialists who would sympathize with me and help me and would fix me. And when I got there, before anything even happened, I had to sign all these papers, and my parents did too, and I didn't know what they were, I didn't question it. What I signed didn't even really matter anyways, I was 16. And the first day I brought my phone with me and a book, and my bag with some other stuff. But after I signed everything, they took everything I had away, and we went to this room with all these doctors, 'my treatment team', I had never met them before, they barely looked at me or talked to me, but they talked about me and my 'treatment plan' and they were never caring to me, never talked to me like a person.

The plan, as it was for everyone, was that they give you three meals a day, of whatever food they bring you, you have to eat all of it by the time an alarm they set goes off, you have to drink every drop of water they give you, have to use every packet of sauce they give you. If you don't do this, you get moved down a 'level' and you get privileges taken away. Things like watching tv, or being around other patients, but most of all, I found out that being moved down a level just meant you usually get locked in a room by yourself for a few hours because that happened to me. a lot.

i was very upset when i found this out. this was not helping me. because as i found out, it turns out no one really knows a fucking thing about helping people with mental illnesses or eating disorders or developmental disabilities even though the medical establishment likes to talk about how much it has progressed. they don't know a single fucking thing.

so i finally went out to the common room with the other patients. i was crying very hard and told the doctors that was it i wanted to leave i didn't want to be part of the program. but they told me it was too late i already signed the consent forms. so i don't know if medical consent/institutionalization is still like this almost 10 years later, if someone was lying to me or if this is true, but my mom also told me the same thing, and apparently if you consent to this kind of thing you cannot take it back. which by definition, makes it not consent.

i remember sobbing in the common area with the other patients (they were all girls, about same age as me), and there was another new patient, also sobbing. the other girls tried to comfort us and talk to us, but the orderlies (i don't really know what else to call them, all they really did was sit and watch us and make sure we didn't do anything that wasn't allowed. they were all college girls. they were extremely mean to us, they thought we were being dramatic) wouldn't let them, we weren't really allowed to talk to each other much and we weren't allowed to touch each other and we very specifically for some reason were not allowed to comfort each other.

i was crying especially hard because i knew that this program was expected to last for a couple months. but as i talked to the other girls there the small amount i was able to, i found out that most of them had been there for much longer than a couple months, many of them for over a year. i managed to catch my parents as they were leaving from dropping me off and talking with the doctors (i had only been there still only like 3 or 4 hours) and screamed at them to get me out of here. my mom seemed really shaken by the way i was acting and the doctor told her not to worry and i specifically remember him saying "they all act like this at the beginning".

it is something i will never forget because every time i tried to convince my mom to get me out of there she seem conflicted based on the fact that the doctor said that. and it hits me every time that all the doctors, the nurses, the people working there, can see children. children. acting like that about what they are doing to them and think they are doing the right thing. i will never forget it ever. and every person who came in after me did the same thing! because it was prison! it was punishment! for having a eating disorder! for being autistic! when i was able to talk to my mom, she kept saying "we are not trying to punish you" and the more times she said i realized she was trying to convince herself.

i ate some of the foods they gave me but i never got used to them like they said i would. i just got knocked down a level every time and got locked in a room. and the thing is, unlike most media and reports about mental wards or asylums. it was a nice hospital. it was brand new. the room i was locked in was not a padded room. one of the walls was just a window. and in some ways, that made it worse. because it looked out on a highway and i saw all the cars going to and from work, going to the store, going to eat. and they were so free and they could go where they wanted and eat what they wanted and when they wanted and they weren't locked in a room. and they passed this hospital and had no idea what was happening to me or to anyone else here and it made me so angry and so defeated. i felt so close to being away from a waking nightmare but i knew i would never get there. a year!!! i could be there for over a year.

a year without going where i wanted when i wanted. no access to my phone. i wasn't allowed to see my friends. i wasn't allowed to read my books. i wasn't allowed to eat what i wanted when i wanted. i did therapy a few times a day but it was more like an interrogation. when i was a high enough level to be in the common room, i sat in the corner and did puzzles obsessively so i could just dissociate and focus on the puzzles. eventually the therapist told me i wasn't allowed to do puzzles anymore because it was "distracting from my recovery" and i "wasn't thinking about my eating" (i don't know what the fuck i was supposed to be thinking about). it got to the point where i felt like i didn't have ownership of my own mind anymore. i wasn't allowed to dissociate. i wasn't thinking about what they wanted me to be thinking about.

they told me if i "was good" (aka if i reached a high enough level, not going to happen) i could write them a list of 100 songs. they would load all the songs on an ipod shuffle to loan to me. but only after they listened to all of them first to make sure they were appropriate. they told me if i "was good" maybe i could see my best friend for a few hours for one weekend. a few hours. for one weekend. i was understanding how truly controlling the program was. seeing a friend for a few hours once a month is a privilege. listening to a few songs they approve is a privilege.

but it didn't matter. i realized after the first day that obviously i had to kill myself. i was already in a pretty bad place before the program and was passively suicidal but i realized instantly that i could not live like this and if i was going to be stuck here indefinitely then my only way to escape was to end my life. i didn't have a plan at that point but i knew for certain i was going to do it. the loss of control, the violation, the loss of body and self was unbearable.

every morning they had us strip and then weighed us and did an ekg. why did they have us strip and do an ekg? it doesnt seem like it has much of a point. they watched us go to the bathroom. it all seemed like humiliation and violation for the sake of it.

even after the second day i had realized that i didnt want to be fixed or get better and i had to come to the very quick realization that there had never been anything wrong with me. when i went to therapy they asked me questions like "don't you want to be able to go to restaurants?" "don't you want to be able to eat with friends?" and i realized none of that had to do with my health. the reason i had problems with restaurants was because they didn't accommodate to me and the reason i had problems with friends was all social. all these reasons i had for wanting to be fixed and all these reasons they had for me to want to be fixed were other peoples' problems. the way people treated me was not my problem.

for your treatment plan, one of the first steps was to admit in group therapy that you had an eating disorder and what your problems were (i fucking know) and that would get you more privileges but i decided i wasn't going to do that because i didn't have a problem, my "problem" was everyone else's problem and the way they treated me. so i refused to every session and got locked in the room every time for this. they fucking hated me for it.

if you can't tell how long i was there for based on this. i was only there for a week. because after a week our insurance came back and declined to cover the program. i always hate myself that it was a week. it doesnt feel long enough. for the amount that it did for me. for how much it does to me almost 9 years later. it doesn't feel like enough.

i got home and screamed at my parents. i was so angry. my mom had allegedly been trying the entire time to get me out of the program, but my dad had been trying to keep me in. when i got home my dad had taken away my phone and my laptop and said he wasnt giving them back. i screamed at him and cried and he threatened to call the hospital and have them lock me up forever. i was terrified, i tried to get away from him, to hide. and he got out his phone and took video of me, at my worst moments, he claimed to show to the doctors. i ran away. for a few hours. i had nowhere to go. i ran about a mile. and then sat down outside the rec center and cried until it got dark. and then i went home.

i had nightmares that i was still there for months. it never ended. i was so paranoid about everything. i thought people were coming to lock me up. i couldn't draw any attention to myself or i thought i would be locked up. every time we drove anywhere near the hospital i thought my parents were taking me back there. i was so paranoid i couldn't sleep i couldn't sit i couldn't do anything i had to be looking out for everything and i trusted no one. i walked around, angry at everyone, that they were so carefree in everything and they had no idea what happened to me. i was angry it happened to me and they were worried about things that had no importance. i was angry when adults thought they knew more than me and i felt i had been through more in life at 16 than they had at their age. was it true? i'm not sure.

i think the most important thing i learned, whether true or not, besides not needing to be fixed, was that i could never trust anyone and never ask anyone for help again. i thought they would help me and i was excited. for some time, i thought it was my fault. at least partially. but now i am angry. i was 16. who would do that to a 16 year old who was looking for help because of how people had treated them?

for a while after i talked about arfid a ton on tumblr and also on wordpress. i created the actuallyarfid tag but became disillusioned when so many people in the tag just talked about wanting to get rid of it or their progress in getting rid of it. and eventually i couldn't even talk about it anymore. it was too tied to everything that happened and i was still so ashamed of it. it was to triggering. i stopped.

i think for similar reasons i have stopped associating so much with the autistic community online. i think it has jaded me so much to see so many people who have only had the slightest negative consequences of being autistic and do being autistic like putting on and taking off a coat after something like this happened to me. it was in this program that doctors first told my parents they think i am autistic though i wasnt diagnosed until later. i recognize now that having arfid is part of my being autistic but i don't like to talk about it in the context of having arfid because i don't feel like i 'have' anything. it is just me being me. and i use autistic as a label when i need to explain my needs and differences to people quickly and its fun to make jokes about being autistic sometimes but i dont like to constantly identify myself that way.

my parents are "health" nuts (fake garbage health bullshit) so they were still convinced my eating was going to kill me and many years later have taken me to see several nutritionists. and all these years later, after doctors many years ago declared i had a problem and would die, most of them did not see a huge problem with the way i eat. one of them in particular who i love and have seen over and over again at the behest of my parents has pointed out many things to me. there are plenty of adults who don't eat or barely eat fruits and vegetables. there are plenty of adults who eat the same thing every day (bring the same thing for lunch at work everyday anyone?). the world does not end. if you are different and you do it. then you are a problem and you need to be fixed. but if it is within socially acceptable norms, then it's okay.

i've always thought that some day i wanted to write about what happened to me publicly. in a paper or something. i want people to know. that this happened to me. that this happens to people. still. that it could very well happen to me again. though i'm not sure i could take public response if i did write about it. and after i got out of the program, i wrote it all in a journal, but then ripped it up and shredded it because the words weren't enough. they were so insignificant and i could never ever find the words to capture how horrifying it was what happened to me and how badly it ruined me and destroyed me. it changed my whole life and my perspective on everything. but i think now, almost 10 years later i am starting to find the words. and i think now i am less scared.

[luesmainblog]

thinking about how growing up none of my family knew much about autism or adhd and didn't really know the signs, and then thinking about all the signs i was showing, and how they were responded to as a result of that lack of knowledge. i had a terrible memory as a kid, but only for some things. one thing that really fucked me up was homework. i would do it - my teacher once even admitted i was handing in A+ work - but i couldn't remember to turn it in. the organization methods that were supposed to help just got me more frustrated because they didn't fix the object permanence issue. i was getting lower scores because they were turned in so much later (which is fucked up btw, i get that y'all wanna incentivise getting things in on time but no amount of lateness should turn an A+ into a fucking C, that is ridiculous and you know it, teachers.) and getting AWFUL scores because of all the missing work, and me and my parents couldn't seem to figure out out. and after a while, dad started to assume malice. he knew i could do the work, he knew i had organization tools, and SURELY it was not THAT hard to just turn the darn papers in, so... maybe i was doing it on purpose? for attention? when i look back on our dynamic growing up, i think that very much did effect how he interacted with me. the idea of the troublesome kid likely clouded how he assumed the intentions behind other things. the thing is, i always gave the same reasons. "i forgot" and "i don't know, i'm sorry". and looking back on it.... it's normal to hear that every so often, but when it's becoming an active problem and your kid keeps saying they just forgot, that indicates they are struggling with memory more than they should be. but that idea never occured to any of us, because why would we be watching a healthy 11 year old for memory problems? i know overdiagnosis and overmedication is a problem in some places. i know people get nervous about making every single thing their kid does a Symptom. but please... if this story sounds familiar to you? suggest that they get the kid checked out, specifically with memory issues as a concern. the kid might say they remember just fine; they wouldn't know, they don't know what it's LIKE to remember normally and they don't remember all the times they've forgotten. if you're not sure how that works, please observe the question "do you have a problem wearing socks?". the short answer is, it's very easy to assume your experience is normal and not have it come to mind.

i will say that in some ways i'm glad i didn't get tested young, because the legal restraints on autistic people are fucking ridiculous and i've made the conscious choice - thankfully respected by my therapist - that i don't want that on my medical record. but i wish we'd known enough to know that i should be looking at resources for what helps kids with adhd. yaknow?

[lunaetis]

[ a bit of a work rant under the cut. ]

[ i have a bad habit of biting my nails / fingers when i'm anxious or stressed. this is something i do unconsciously most of the time. the fact that in the past week including today ( which is a monday of a new week ), i've torn my nails and skin to the point of drawing blood without even realizing it is a telltale sign of how stressed i am. like, i didn't even realize it until it was bleeding which had me like damn. you really are stockpiling that stress, huh.

i really need a new job. i did update my resume and linkedin and sent out a few applications. i'm going to do more during this week. i don't think i can take much more of this. for those who don't know, i work as marketing executive for an IT retailer. i started this week with being hounded by different managers belonging to sales department of various products bc sales aren't improving even tho the ads statistics ( things like impression, reach, engagement ) are extremely high ( when i say high i mean 500k+ impressions & 100k+ reach right here on all the ads i'm running. ) that means ppl are seeing our ads and i get engagement from them, that is my job DONE RIGHT. i'm not responsible if the SALES TEAM FUCKING SUCKS AND CANNOT PERFORM. i've done my part. i'm a marketing executive. not sales. do your own fucking job and train your sales rep and ppl bc apparently they don't know what they're doing. if you have half a million ppl at least getting a glimpse of your ads and your numbers aren't coming in ? that's sales ppl not being effective with their methods bc the last i check the promotions are good and comparable with competitors. i've done my job and research. do yours.

not to mention my teammates are quitting left and right bc this place just has bad management. i've been here for years trying to improve everything but even so there are limited things i could control. the demands are starting to get ridiculous with amount of work they put on me. i've talked to my supervisor many times, he said he's trying his hardest with HR to recruit more ppl. this morning, i simply told him he better speed it up or he can find a replacement for me as well. i really can't take much more of this.

if you make it to here, thank you and i'm sorry for that rant. i just need to get it out somewhere ;; i'll be alright i promise. i've been so stressed for the past month that i feel like i need to write it down and get it off my chest. thanks for reading, really. ]

[selachiixiv]

A very album-cover-y aesthetic shot of my trans/nb characters for TDOV

since I have actual space in this text box, from the left,

Intercessor Androc Chionades - One of my Ascians, he was deeply closeted from even himself as a living Amaurotine (essential headcanon thought: yes, Ancient society/Amaurot were a-okay and good with gender, but if you don't even know how to ask yourself why your skin fits wrong...) and thus hyperfocused on rigidly following the rules and on both legal and botanical studies. When brought into the Ascian fold later on and figured out his gender, the Convocation member he serves, Halmarut, turned him and his direct peers into living roses to preserve their shapes for all of history. Having stumbled into the company of Hyacinthe in the pursuit of Hybris, he wound up meeting his beloved girlfriend, Shrike, and in the wake of the loss of Zodiark, he focuses his time primarily on memorizing laws across Etheirys, particularly Ishgardian property and tax laws because it entertains Shrike to watch him make nobles sweat very loudly.

Doctor Drujan Daemir - That's not his name, and while technically that's not his proper title, he is a former high-ranking medicus, so same difference. With both massive amounts of medical training and formal Hannish alchemy training, he is in the process of becoming a self-built man. An admirable goal, were he in possession of anything resembling a moral compass.

Annette Rivers - A tiny brick wall and formerly a single parent - no longer technically a single parent since she's tracked down her son's father and parenting their ten year old is now a shared responsibility between a small queer village - she is now able to fuck around and figure out what is even what with her gender. She doesn't know where she's going just yet, but she's shifted to she/sir and an attitude of "not sure how much I give a shit about having any gender". Born and raised in the Brume, she's got not an ounce of patience for most nobles, a quick mind for numbers, a quicker gun, and an even quicker snark.

Darry - Being a sayaad means all the accompanying shapeshifting capabilities, and she's entirely capable of any of them, but generally she defaults to tiny and femme with a decided lack of attachment to any one way. There's more important things to her life, like figuring out where she belongs culturally having left the one she was born to incredibly far behind her. When I'm not losing track of what I'm doing she's poking experimentally at Xaelic culture to see how well she can find a fit.

Oberon Bloodworth - A bit of a self-fulfillment/spite-fueled character in creation (finding out someone didn't view you as a man will do these things), Oberon is a model (both for artists and for fashion) and the son of Duskwight anarchists who work from the shadows to destabilize Gridanian government. When not busy with either of these he lives out in the middle of fuck-off nowhere, neighboured to a group of kobolds who fled their kin and tempering, together forming an aggressive body to any outsiders to their respective groups that find their way out, especially if they come in a uniform.

Favrielle - one of my longest-lasting characters, Favri's gender fuckery began internally probably a long time before they really thought about it, then WoW implemented those gender swap potions and they canonically began fucking around with those and the thought that it felt right to them to present as either began crystallizing, although they themselves maintained a primarily feminine presentation for some years until shortly after bearing their own child - an experience that also involved absorbing their selves from multiple alternate timelines and the associated power thereof - they shifted presentation drastically. When not ignoring the laws of man and physics alike, Favri parents their younger children, tries to grow ever-more-ridiculously-spicy peppers, leads kink seminars, parades their personal neon sign fiancé around, and sometimes lights people on fire for making exploitive contracts.

("gee Toby", you might say, "you sure do like giving your trans characters an outlaw streak if not an outright OP one or both", and you're right 🥰)

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

When the comedian Gareth Richards died last year, there were all kinds of posts and things going around about him, other comedians talking about him. Everyone seemed to be saying the same main things, that he was a ridiculously kind person, that this had unfairly happened to one of the nicest people in the world and everyone else was missing out on the privilege of getting to know him.

I have to admit I only vaguely recognized the name and didn't really know who he was, and I figured from the tributes that he must have been a nice guy, but to be honest, I also assumed there must be some amount of exaggeration about how special he was, as there always is when someone dies, and to some extent, rightly so. You focus on someone when they die, that's the right thing to do. But I didn't assume he'd be likely to stand out among other comedians if he hadn't just died.

However, I've heard his podcast interview with Peacock & Gamble from the 2012 Edinburgh Festival, and I have to say this one would stand out to me, among the interviews with people I don't know, even if he hadn't died. Comedian interviews can all run together, there are standouts if they're from a comedian whose work I'm familiar with (if I like someone's comedy then I'll of course care more about what they have to say in an interview), but if I don't know they're work, they have to be pretty interesting for me to particularly notice them when they're just talking in an interview. And this guy was. I came away from this interview thinking "This is the only thing I've ever heard by this guy, but it makes me think any claims about him being a special ridiculously nice person are probably fully accurate."

The whole episode is really interesting - can be heard here - and has some great discussions about comedy and friendship and life in general. But I've cut out a clip where they talk about social anxiety (I don't mean in the clinical sense of Social Anxiety, just anxiety about social situations), because it's such an open and honest discussion and endears this guy to me so much:

This is just one clip of a larger thing, but it's all like that, a really lovely, insightful, kind discussion about how someone navigates life when feeling shy in social situations. While still being funny, there's a bit later in the episode where they do a roleplay of a difficult conversation that's hilarious and pokes at him a little without ever feeling actually mean.

I've heard a lot of famous people talk about a lot of types of anxiety in a lot of different ways, so it always feels interesting if I hear someone who manages to hit on a specific experience of anxiety that I've never heard someone put into exact words before, and the above clip did that about four different times. It was about 18 years ago now when my best friend/current roommate established the running joke with me that I have the words "fuck off" metaphorically written on my forehead, so the only people who ever end up talking to me are people who choose to ignore the sign or people who can't read, a joke I find funny and know is true due to my inability to talk to anyone I don't already know fairly well, but I also genuinely worry about it, and I have never heard it described as viscerally accurately as "I had a terrible realization in the last year or so that probably, every person I've ever gigged with probably assumes I'm a prick." (Obviously you have to make some minor changes to that sentence to apply it to my experience, taking out the word "gigged", though actually I have performed at exactly seven different open mic stand-up comedy nights, I've quite liked a lot of people there, I've found them terrifying to talk to and have been incredibly nervous around all of them and run away from any attempts they've made to chat with me even though I'd have quite liked to chat with them, one of them even made a joke in her set when she went on after me about how I seemed so nervous around everyone that I wanted nothing to do with them, so, you know, it might apply anyway.)

But it's not just about the bits I find relatable to my own experience, to be honest I wouldn't claim to be much like this guy because I could not imagine being so disarmingly open and charmingly vulnerable while still being funny and insightful. I don't have much else to say other than this is an excellent interview, well worth a listen, and would absolutely stand out in my mind among all the other interviews even if he hadn't recently died. It turns out no one was kidding about how special he was, based on how he comes across in this podcast.

[w2soneshots]

One bed -Calfreezy

words: 0.9k+

warnings: smut.

summary: when you arrive on holiday with the troops you realise you’re going to have to share a bed with Cal. Obviously it didn’t go as expected.

notes: first Freezy fic and I really eased myself into it with a smut🤦‍♀️. Also who doesn’t love the ‘only one bed’ trope?🤭 I hope you enjoy my loves!!❤️‍🔥🫶🏼

"Are you sure you're ok with it?" Cal asked for the second time. "Yes. I really don't care." I replied. We're currently on holiday with the sidemen, their girlfriends and Callux. JJ booked a villa but got the amount of rooms we would need wrong, so some people are having to share. All of the couples are together. JJ and Tobi are sharing and so is Harry and Callux, leaving me and Freezy. The problem is that each room only has one bed.

He offered to sleep on the couch but I told him that that was ridiculous, the beds are massive and the sofa is hard as fuck. He'd end up with spine damage by the end of the week long trip. After I unpacked I got changed into some clothes more appropriate for the hot weather. When I left the bathroom I was faced with Frezzy who was waiting on the bed. "Finally! You took ages." He jumped up. I shook my head with a smile. "See ya." I headed towards the door.

Everyone decided that we'd spend tonight at the villa, taking advantage of the huge pool in the garden. Me and the girls sat around chatting whilst the boys fucked about in the pool, acting like children. "Oi! Are you gonna come have some fun?!" JJ shouted. We all collectively signed. I really didn't want to have to wash my hair. But it was still boiling hot even though it was almost night o'clock at night. And that fresh cool water looked really inviting. "Fuck it." I pulled my tank top over my head, revealing the bikini I had put on underneath (because who wears normal underwear on holiday? Always got to be prepared).

The girls decided that they wanted to get in as well so we jumped in. I emerged from the water with soaking wet hair. I pushed it back so it was out of my way. "This feels so nice." I smiled as spoke to Freya. "I know right." She agreed. After some time I swam over to Freezy. "I'm gonna go up. I'll be in the shower so you'll have to wait." I informed him. He nodded. "Alright. See you in a bit." I smiled lightly at him then pushed myself out of the pool. "Night guys!" I shouted as I walked towards the glass doors.

Once I got into the shower and washed the chlorine from my body and hair I dried off. I wrapped one of the clean, white towels around my body then opened the bathroom door. Freezy wasn't in yet so I quickly got changed into some little pyjamas. In this weather I probably would've slept in my underwear but obviously that wouldn't be appropriate. I dried my hair and just as I was moisturising my face Freezy walked into the bedroom, soaking wet. "Get in the shower quick!" I whispered yelled, since he was dripping pool water everywhere. "Ok ok! I'm going."

By the time he was finished I was already in bed, scrolling through my phone. I secretly admired his back muscles as he lent down to grab something from his suitcase. A few minutes later he slid into bed with just his boxers on. I popped my phone onto the bedside table. As I tried to get comfortable Cal broke the silence. "Do you know if we're going out tomorrow night?" He asked quietly. I turned to look at him. "Uh yeah. I think so. Simon booked a table at the local club." I replied. "Oh ok. Thanks." He whispered. I smiled then turned back over.

My head began to spin, I'm actually in the same bed as Cal. It felt weird but right at the same time. "y/n?" I swiftly turned myself around. His body was just a few centimetres from mine. Without thinking I pressed my lips onto his. As I pulled away I suddenly felt extremely nervous. But when he pulled me into him, attaching our lips once more, any thought in my head disappeared. Slowly it turned more and more passionate as both of our hands roamed the other's body. His hand moved to my thigh, gently tugging me onto his lap. I straddled him, while not breaking the kiss. He groaned lightly into my mouth. It was like a sound I had never heard before and I loved it.

He gently hooked his fingers around the elastic of my shorts. "Can I?" He asked, looking me in the eyes. I nodded. "Yes." He slowly pulled the thin fabric down then quickly rolled us both over so he was now on top of me, between my legs. "Are you sure you wanna do this?" "Cal, please." I practiced begged. He moved his hand down to my naked cunt. Running one finger through my folds, making me gasp. He found my clit then began slowly rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves. I let out an uncontrollable moan. "Shh." He hushed me. "Don't wanna wake anyone up do we, love?" I shook my head then bit down on my bottom lip.

The next morning I woke to Freezy staring at me. "Enjoying the view?" I joked. "Yep. Very much." He replied, pulling me into him. Last night we were both completely sober and I didn't regret a single thing. I felt relieved when it seemed he also didn't regret anything. "So... six inches yeah?" I broke the comfortable silence. "Oh shut up." He replied sarcastically. I giggled. I could stay here, like this, with him forever.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: Surgery Planning Stuff aka Fuck!!! I have less than two weeks to get my arm to do those two things I really want it to do.

The Catholics are a no go on helping. I am now waiting on the Protestant Coalition to see if they will send anyone to help. In related news, the nice lady in charge of my disability aide stuff has put in for a bunch of extra hours for Goth Millennial for March, given how much help I'm going to need. We should here back from the supervisor soon so Goth Millennial can plan. I am thinking I'm going to up reservations with the asshole agency to four a week or so after my first forty eight post surgury in hopes of getting two cleaning sessions a month instead of one. I need to think about distribution for when we have our no one is coming again conversation Friday morning.

I have done my pre-op consult thingie. It looks like as the surgery is less extreme than what had initially been projected they won't need to completely immobilize the arm, just severely limit it. I am hoping "can move it slightly in an up and down fashion" will really help with the trousers on and off situation when I need the bathroom. It is a small thing making a massive difference. I will see if I will be able to type at all when we get there.

It took me three days, a ridiculous amount of time, energy, gas, and most of the oil in my car to get the blood work they wanted. It was an infuriating saga. Hospital won't take blood work from the normal easy to access lab. The one I was sent to consists of a collection of chairs and a sign directing me to what two hours of driving through the street maze north of a certain middle school suggests is a mythical location. waited an hour with an annoyingly loud loop blasting directions in a tiny windowless waiting room to be sent home to try again. That site had the wrong hours listed on the internet and was closing also indefinately.

This left literally two open slots at the one remaining site, which was the basement of a very pretty craftsman house with no signage visible from the street. I parked in the right place, but the person in the building proper had no idea they had a phlebotomist in the basement, so I spent the next 20 minutes driving up and down and eventually systematically trying unmarked buildings on foot until a kind older gentleman led me to the secret vampire basement. Then I had to hobble up hill back to my car.

This could have easily been solved by a larger sign instead of a tiny one half hidden by landscaping, or one of those tent signs closer to the street. Just saying.

So they have their four vials of blood.

I've had my phone consult with the hospital about meds and things, during which I discovered that the intake lady at the formerly Extremely Catholic Hospital now owned by an Evil Corporate Conglomerating that has successfully enshitified healthcare across broad sectors in at least two counties knows nothing at all about gender confirmation surgeries, literally didn't understand what I was talking about without a five minute explanation, and had no way to enter such a thing into the computer so had to hand write it into my previous surgery list in vague terms because her google fu wasn't up to trans stuff and there was no medical code for it in the computer. O.o

And this is why I never feel safe at that hospital even though I'm pretty sure they stopped having everyone drop whatever they were doing including surgery prep for mandatory prayers when the Evil Corporate Overloard took over. I trust neither super Christian hospital not evil corporate hospital that fires whistle blowers, and wish we were doing this at the modern hospital one county south, but here we are.

I do have trust in my surgeon though. The person who did my swabs, BP, and med list at the surgeons place was clearly trans. I wasn't sure which direction they were going or if they were nonbinary, but it made me feel safer. They weren't weird about my botched surgery situation when I had to partially disrobe for swabs. He also has good recommendations for joint surgery from the physios because the outcomes are excellent without much in the way of complications. My interactions with him show he listens and takes problems seriously. I am comfortable with no nonsense, which he is.

I am going to hate being mostly helpless. The rehab will Suck, but it would be harder to suck more than physio already is. I am already thinking about maybe trying for a new hip next year or the year after. Best to start cycling through the process on big four since I've already started, and that left hip is deteriorating noticeably faster than the right.

My car needs to go in Monday. I need to make a mental note that oil is now three times a year. Sigh. And jiffy lube won't touch anything under my hood for liability reasons. I am trying not to stress out about housing tax, as right now I just need to focus on doing as much physio as my arm can take, laying in supplies for March, getting through what is about to be a terrible, terrible month.

I would like to thank the donor who sent some funds to allow me to order out a couple times while I'm laid up, and the Millennials who are organizing Batch Cooking so I will have things I can heat up to eat.

[mochiswifey]

TUMBLED

REPOST FROM OTHER ACCOUNT {PART ADDED}

Rindou X Ex Wife *ANGST* MDNI

"What now?" He didn't hide his annoyance at your attitude. You retort and left the living room and headed straight to the guest room only to have him almost tearing down the door. "Out." You didn't even look at him and kept your eyes outside of the window. You knew it was over the moment he looked at her with the eyes he used to look at you. "C'mon now don't be fucking ridiculous." He snaps at you before throwing the chair from the guest's room's vanity to the wall. Rindou doesn't act like that. He's more composed compared to his brother so it startled you to the point your eyes were in the verge of spilling tears from fear.

"You love her." He shakes his head and tried to deny the fact you're stating.

"I-I What are you even talking about? I love you! That's why I'm married to you!" He raises his palm and pointed at the ring on his finger that was supposed to symbolize the union of the two of you but now has just become a reminder of the misery the two of you are in. "Don't try to deny it Rindou. Everything we had has already fallen apart. You stopped loving me the moment I got a miscarriage." He clenched his jaw as you yell the reason he fell out of love with you. "What the fuck do you want me to say? I'm here telling you that I love you." He punched the wall leaving a dent on it. "Yes, maybe you do. But you love her more." "Stop talking nonsense-" "I'm not talking nonsense and you know it!" You screamed at him smashing the flower vase near you. "I'm tired. You don't love me anymore so why do you keep me? Let's file for divorce. This is not worth it. We're still young and let's just end this miserable marriage and avoid the future pain." The moonlight illuminates your face and there was no sorrow or a thing that's holding you back. "Is that what you really want?" He asks you and you nodded before leaving the room and going to spend your night on a hotel not far from the place where the two of you made a vow to each other. Everything was just a memory now and all the things you've given each other disintegrated. The scars you two have are irreversible. And no amount of love could held the two of you together at least for you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next day you two meet each other for the last time and quietly signed your name on the divorce papers. He was visible lighter and you were too. You knew it was the right decision for the two of you. Your heart is still hurting but you know the pain will disappear eventually. Due to his influence the divorced was granted within an hour and when all was done you simply walked away. "Gia." You hear his voice and you stopped midway the flights of stairs outside the city hall. You look up to him and your eyes met his exhausted purple eyes. Your thumb then touched the cold ring on your finger and you slowly took it off before walking back up to him. "Thank you Rindou." You say placing a soft kiss on his lips before putting the ring that tied you to him on his hand. You gave him a small smile acknowledging the defeat you two had before continuing on your way towards your new life. Rindou watches you and never removed his eyes on you even when you were already in your car. The memories of you with him played on his mind and your voice filled with happiness echoed to him. "I've gotta let you go, I know. But why do fools like me only realize they love someone like you when they're already gone?" He asks himself looking at the ring on his palm that he once slid on your finger. He's a cruel fool. And he only realized that he never stopped loving you when you were content and have given up on fixing the broken love you two had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half a year later. You heard the news of him being remarried to the woman you feared. But the pain was temporary. And you find yourself smilling to small things again.

You learned to love yourself and value yourself first before anyone else. And even though there's a part of you that wished you could be with your husband again, you were able to push forward.

Years passed and you completely rebuilt your life. Love. You weren't lucky to find someone but you found yourself. It's enough. You needed to lose him to love yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was all going well until one knock came to your doorstep. It was exactly 12:29 am. You were exhausted from all of the work you've finished for the charity you started. And was about to fall asleep when Ran Haitani. Your former brother in law came to your house.

The years have worn him out. He's gotten older but the beauty never faded. Though the cunning and mischievous smiles he always had seemingly vanished as if it had never been there in the first place.

"Ran? What's wrong?"

"Please come with me." He sounded so helpless you didn't argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your heart sank as you saw the man who once protected you, lay on the bed looking so weak and so lifeless.

The sound of the machines beeping are the only things that could be heard.

"Car accident. His marriage has been bad. He has never been happy. Not since you two broke up. He- He tried to end everything. It's fucking painful for him." Your former brother in law explains as you sat down on the chair beside your former lover.

"Rin..."

Everything slowed down. The beeps of the machines became faint and you could only focus to your former lover.

"Please wake up."

You said grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. Hoping that he'll recognize you and magically opens his eyes.

"Please Rin.... I know you can hear me."

He can hear you. He's still in there. He was ready to let go until he heard you. Now he just need to hear one thing from you. He knows he doesn't deserve it but if you just say those words he'll fight till his body started to crumble from exhaustion.

"Please Rin, your brother needs you. Your friends need you. You have a lot to lose. You can't leave. Please wake up." You tell him a lot but nothing of those was what he wanted to hear.

"I need you Rin."

It's that simple. But even as the days becomes months that eventually turned into years he never heard those words from your mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a miracle that his eyes opened. And the he was able to recover so quickly after being in a coma for 7 years. He was eager to see you.

To tell you how much he missed you.

But it was his turn to have his heart broken after seeing you with your own family. He should've known better. He should've stopped and let go as soon as your visit became less and less. He should've just died as soon as you stopped visiting him.

It hurts.

But he hurt you first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading. Don't copy.