#unemployment is a trip

[theolsuspendisbelief]

Songs of Wind and Woe

Fandom: Critical Role Campaign 3

Relationship: Orym/Dorian Storm

Rated M

Complete

Words: 42,056

Dorian Storm, unmoored and free for the first time in his life, blows into a mountain village on winds leading him to the Rift between the material world and the elemental plane of air.

Orym of the Air Ashari has spent the past six years falling into a routine of duty and family after an unexplained tragedy struck Zephrah. It is a numb but comfortable existence, as the Exandria somehow keeps spinning.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“You’re having fun?” Leeta asks.

Orym rolls his eyes. Six years later and they still dote on him. He’s lucky, he reminds himself. “Yes. Good drink, good music… Questionable company aside, I’m having fun.”

“Plus the good view.” Baernie adds, motioning her mug back towards the bard, now onto another jaunty tune, but this time in a language Orym doesn’t understand. It’s all smooth vowels and soft consonants, rushing into his ear like the very wind itself. He’s already staring by the time Baernie’s words register, and he quickly brings up his mug for another long draw, hoping the tall folk sized drinking vessel covers up any hint of heat he can feel rising to his cheeks. It is a good view. He hadn’t even realized that was something he could still notice.

[bishonenvoicedbyadyke]

made my pilgrimage to see saint armand <3 <3 <3

interesting to see that in real life the boy's skin is much darker, the whole painting is actually. i think the version they used in the show was based on the official photo on the louvre website and this reproduction is too contrasted and exposed.

[wetcatspellcaster]

I have done something very silly in the past 2 and a half days... I can't wait to share it with you! :)

[luxurystark-jackson]

first action of god!cas in the first episode of the god cas era is just straight up going after a homophobic reverend. like okay. go gayboy go

[helianthus21]

employed!me was constantly stressed and tired but at least she had a passion (hating her employer)

[wraithsoutlaws]

i am. melancholy.

[hexmaniacchoco]

So, Target has decided to fire employees who purchase a Stanley cup. Yeah the same Stanley cups that have lead in them. Target's reasoning is that they violated a policy which doesn't allow employees to gain an "unfair advantage" over customers when it comes to purchasing limited items. Managers' reasoning for allowing employees to buy the cup is that it's a cup and why on Earth should people not be allowed to buy them. My opinion is scalping is bad and a problem that needs to be better addressed by companies. The solution is not to fire employees for buying limited items, even if they put one to the side for themselves to purchase after work. I think a much better solution is one we already use, which is the good old fashioned purchase limit paired with not making only like 1 of something per every hundred of people wanting it. You want to buy a few? Sure, maybe you're buying the others for friends or family or something who also like the thing. You want to buy 10? 50? The entire stock on display and all in the back? Absolutely not, sir madam or other.

Also if you're a Target employee who got fired, definitely make sure to file for unemployment and have the state investigate for unlawful termination. It might not be considered as such because it was a stupid policy but still a policy, but might as well find out and have them go after Target if it is. (And no, "at-will" does not mean that an employer can fire you for absolutely any reason. They just want you to think that so you don't bother to track conversations in written (text/e-mail/etc) form and have state labor departments investigate when you get fired and are applying for unemployment.)

[tokitooth]

groupie behavior from me honestly

[evelynhug0]

what do i do with a girl who ignores me/doesn't react to my message anymore (after I had to cancel our date because I was doing super badly (mental health))???? it's been more than 24 hours since i sent my voice message. she has listened to it but no reaction so far. do i have to text her again? if so, shall i send something like "are you mad at me?" or "is everything okay?" or "i'm disappointed that you act like this" ????????? or shall i just ignore her/don't react?????

gosh women are so complicated istg

[mimikinyuu]

(ooc post: interactions might be a bit spotty due to irl stuff but i am still around i prommy 🥲 work and health r simply beating my ass)

[sab-teraa]

One thing about SA baddies??? They will make you side with m*n 😭😭😭 pls my sisters … we can’t be doing this … but at the same this is a consensual choice … so idk anymore lol

[wetcatspellcaster]

The last chapter of A Honest Lie had been incredible! I was at re-read of A Bleeding Heart, and Astarion's POV IS GORGEOUS. You manage to capture his mischievous self so well. It shows he did not change that much, he is still the Astarion Rose (and we) met, but there is also some subtle way she has influenced him. Also, the way you managed to save everyone, I'm applauding your commitment. I gave up on the third try.

And oh how I understand Astarion considering Wyll's father. I would have left him there to rot for what he did to my precious Wyll. But then Wyll would have been so sad, and probably less agreeable to go in Avernus with Karlach, so yeah. Live Ulder. For now *rubs hands in Dark Urge*

And wow, I can see Rose from Pieces in this Rose so clearly. The bossy Rose. I like her. Very much. Maybe too much.

I am so sorry you feel down. I'm sending you peanut butter cookies (hope you don't have allergies) and a very nice cup of tea. Please take your time and don't push yourself, as a writer I know how draining it can feel. Hope you will feel better after some rest! And may all the stress fade.

alas, anon, i did not save everyone in the Iron Throne, and my steel foundry was bugged and thus a fucking bloodbath (it must be known just how much of my fanfic is to make up for my utter uselessness as a gamer, the fic is always the game I *wish* I'd played lmaooo. I log my play hrs in gdocs rather than steam these days, don't ask me how i fair in QTEs plz plz plz.)

honestly, I wrote Astarion's hesitation in that scene from a place of "I don't want this much responsibility, I'll only fuck it up, fuck this" as opposed to his opinions on Ulder. He didn't want to have to play hero, particularly for Wyll's father, as then the stakes are high in a way where failure is a consequence. I can't imagine Astarion relishing that prospect in the slightest! If I were to be honest about my characterisation of him, I imagine it hasn't occurred to him to question Wyll's narrative about Ulder that much yet, bc that would involve him introspecting on other's peoples stories which um... I reckon that's post Cazador lmao, bro's plate if full rn with his own and his gf's mental illness.

And yes, we love a woman in charge 😌

As for your message! thank you! I'll take the cookies. Unfortunately for me and fortunately for everyone who reads me, fic is one of the few reliable sources of serotonin I have, which means there will be two honest lie chapters this week I think x

[jaeyooniverse]

at this point i kinda just wanna bring back dawonlog

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 4

Unemployment was not on your bucket list.

The rest of your shift dragged on, each minute weighed down by the persistent presence of Dick, Cass, and Damian. They loitered, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. It was unnerving, knowing they were there—observing, calculating. You tried your best to ignore them, focusing on the customers and getting through the shift, but their eyes on you were impossible to shake.

Eventually, you glance at the clock. Your shift is finally coming to an end. A wave of relief washes over you. Soon, you’ll be out of here. You’ve been expecting a call from Alfred any minute now, either letting you know he’s “on the way” or already outside waiting for you. You clutch onto that thought, hoping for a quick getaway.

But that’s when you feel it, a firm hand on your shoulder. You flinch, startled, and whirl around to find Cassandra standing right behind you, her eyes sharp and her smile almost unsettling in its warmth.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her tone gentle but somehow–wrong.

“Can I–um–help you?” you ask, your voice betraying your unease. Cass is just as overtly intimidating as the others, if not more so. You know who trained her, you know what she's done, what she's capable of.

“We’ll take you home,” she says simply, the statement hanging in the air like an unbreakable decree.

You blink, not sure if you’ve heard her right. “What? I—Alfred’s picking me up,” you stammer, trying to figure out why the hell they’d want to take you home instead.

Cass’s smile doesn’t falter. “Change of plans.”

You glance past her toward the table where Dick and Damian are waiting. They’re already standing, Dick’s usual smirk plastered on his face, while Damian looks like he’s already irritated by the mere suggestion of you being in the same car as him.

“Uh..” You contemplate walking home, imagining the quiet and cool Gotham air being far more appealing than sharing a car with these three. Maybe it’s not that far to walk? Maybe you’ll survive the trip on foot? But you know better than to argue with them—not when Dick is involved.

With a resigned sigh, you nod. “Okay,  I guess. I still need to get my bike though.”

Cassandra hums in approval.

The walk to the car was stifling. Dick led the way, his usual playful grin in place, but there was an intensity behind it that made your skin crawl. Damian followed closely, his silence more oppressive than any words he could’ve said. When you reached the sleek black car, one of Bruce’s more extravagant vehicles, your hesitation grew, but there was no turning back now.

As you slip into the backseat, you find yourself next to Damian, who's already glaring out the window like you’re the most offensive thing in the car, and the leather seat that smells faintly of expensive cologne. Cass takes the passenger seat, her calm demeanor oddly comforting despite the situation, while Dick slides into the driver’s seat.

The car hums to life, and soon enough, you’re speeding through the streets of Gotham. The tension inside the vehicle is thick, almost unbearable. You stare out your window, watching the city blur by, trying your best to disappear into the seat.

“Y/N,” Dick’s voice broke the silence, far too casual for the tension in the car. “You didn’t tell us you were working at that cafe.”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say much. “Didn't think I needed to? Why does it matter?”

Dick’s eyes flicked to you in the mirror, a glint of something dark behind his seemingly easy going demeanor. “It seems as though there's a lot of things you haven't told us (Y/n), hmm?”

He just completely ignored your question, and like an idiot, you dignify his question with your own response.

“I don't know why you in particular care, considering you haven't bothered to in the past four years.” You remark, crossing your arms. 

Dicks smile only widened as he cooed at your response. “Oh I don't care (Y/n), but you can't just do whatever you want, right? Your last name’s still Wayne last time I checked, do you know what that means?”

His eyes flicker to you, staring at you through the rear view mirror. You just shrug nervously, you had no idea where he was going with this.

“It means you’re not allowed to just fuck off and do whatever you want. What happens when you’re working and a rouge or random criminal recognizes you? It’ll be our job to drag you back.” He says smiling all the while. Dick doesn't really curse, not like this anyways, and it's starting to scare you. 

There was something sinister beneath his seemingly friendly demeanor. The way he was talking about you, it made you feel more like a possession than a person. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, eyes flicking to Damian and Cassandra. None of them seemed to be fazed by Dick's words. It was like they all understood something you didn't.

"Look," you muttered, "I just needed the job, okay? I didn’t think it was a big deal."

He just nods, “Which is why you'll be putting in your two week’s notice.”

Hold the phone.

“I'm sorry what?”

“I'm sure I spoke clearly, didn't i?”

“I'm–I'm not quitting my job.”

“Yes you are. In fact, you're going to call your boss and let them know right now.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you thin–”

“I'm not asking (Y/n).” He says, a certain edge to his voice. “Call your boss.”

You’re scared. You don't know why he’s doing this. Shaking, you pull out your phone, staring at the screen as if it could somehow save you from this situation. You know they won’t let you get out of this. Not with the way Dick’s smile is hovering on the edge of something dangerous, not with Damian’s silent approval and Cassandra’s eerie calm. The power dynamic is suffocating—this isn’t a request; it’s an order.

“Call,” Dick says again, his voice now a warning.

You swallow hard, your fingers trembling as you scroll to your boss’s number. You want to refuse, you want to stand your ground, but the fear of what would happen if you did keeps your rebellion at bay. You press the call button, and the phone rings in your ear.

“Hello?” your boss answers, their voice friendly and unsuspecting.

“Hey Daniel, it’s Y/N,” you say, your voice shaking. “I—I’m sorry, but I have to put in my two weeks’ notice. I—uh, I can’t work here anymore.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “What? Y/N, is everything okay?”

No. “Yeah, it’s fine,” you lie. “I just… something came up, and I can’t keep the job.”

Your boss hesitates, clearly concerned. “Are you sure? If this is about needing time off, we can work something out—”

“No, I’m sure,” you cut them off, glancing at the rearview mirror, where Dick’s eyes are still watching you with that unsettling intensity. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

You hang up before they can ask more questions. There’s a sick feeling in your stomach, like you’ve just lost something.

Dick hums in approval. “Good. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You don’t respond. You’re too numb, too angry to even find the words to fight back. The rest of the car ride is silent. When you finally arrive back at the manor, you slip out of the car without a word, making a beeline for your room. You can hear them behind you, talking quietly amongst themselves, but you don’t care. You just need to be alone.

The worst part was, you didn't even get to go back for your bike. Gotham wasn't exactly known for its secure parking spaces, especially for a bike left unattended for hours. By now, it was probably stolen or stripped for parts. Another loss to add to the growing list.

You collapsed onto your bed after a long, hot shower, letting the steam wash away the dried coffee and lingering bitterness of the day. The frustration and humiliation clung to you, but you tried to push it all aside as you buried yourself in mundane distractions. Homework? Done, though half-heartedly. Your phone? A welcome relief, a way to escape the reality of what your life had become.

The phone call with your friends was a lifeline. You started by relaying the bizarre events of your day—Dick showing up at your workplace, forcing you to quit, the awful encounter with the Karen who’d thrown coffee in your face. Arya and Ethan were outraged on your behalf, their voices rising with indignation as they expressed disbelief at how ridiculous your life had become.

“What is wrong with him?” Arya had exclaimed after you explained how Dick had basically forced you to quit. “It’s like he gets off on controlling you.”

Ethan chimed in, his voice laced with sarcasm. “It’s the Wayne family, what do you expect? They think the world revolves around them.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics eventually, giving you a break from the heavy reality of your situation. Arya’s excitement over the girl she liked responding to her Instagram story was a welcome distraction. She went on a rant about how this girl was clearly the one, and you and Ethan couldn’t help but exchange amused glances over the phone. Arya’s giddiness was infectious, and soon the three of you were laughing—deep, real laughter that made you momentarily forget about everything.

But, as with all good things, the fun came to an end with a knock at your door. You sighed heavily, already knowing what was coming.

"Master (Y/n), it’s time for dinner."

The familiar voice of Alfred carried through the door, his polite yet firm tone unmistakable. You groaned, dragging yourself off the bed with all the enthusiasm of someone heading toward their own execution. Dinner meant facing Dick, and after the day you'd had, that was the last thing you wanted to deal with.

You swung open the door, forcing a smile for Alfred, though you knew he could see right through it. "Hey Alfie, how was today?"

Alfred smiled, ever the picture of calm. "All good in a day's work, Master (Y/n). Might I inquire how work today was?"

You couldn’t help but grimace at the mention of work. "It... it was alright," you said, though the weight of your words made it clear that was a lie. Alfred’s raised brow told you he wasn’t fooled.

"Well," you sighed, the reality sinking in further as you spoke, "it doesn’t matter anymore anyways. I quit today."

Alfred’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But my dear, I thought you adored working there? Whatever did happen?"

You couldn’t hold back the bitterness in your voice as you answered, "Dick."

Alfred’s eyes softened with understanding, and the sympathy in his gaze was almost too much to bear. "Ah, I see. I’m sorry you’ve had to do so," he said, and you could tell he genuinely meant it.

"It’s not your fault, Alfie," you replied, feeling a pang of guilt for dragging him into your mess. "Which is why I wanted to ask if I could have dinner in my room today? I don’t think I’ll be able to stay civil with Dick sitting there."

Alfred gave you a sad smile, one that only deepened the dread in your chest. "Usually, it would be more than allowed," he began, his voice gentle, "however, today your father has requested that you attend dinner no matter what."

Your heart sank. "What?"

"Yes," Alfred said with a hint of regret in his voice. "Unfortunately, you don’t have much of a choice today, my dear."

You stared at Alfred, dumbstruck. Since when did Bruce care whether or not you were at dinner? He barely acknowledged your presence most of the time, and now suddenly it was a demand?

Alfred gave you one last apologetic look before he turned to leave, his footsteps fading down the hall. You stood frozen in place, disbelief washing over you.

What the actual fuck is happening?

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[steddieas-shegoes]

shit talkin' up all night

for @steddiesongfics song 'for the first time' by the script

rated m | 1,469 words | cw: alcohol, arguing | tags: angst with a happy ending, established relationship, robin buckley deserves an award for saving their relationship everyone say thank you robin, they're in love, eddie is just dumb for a bit

◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️

The arguing started when Steve suggested they move back in with Wayne.

They were struggling; Eddie wasn't an idiot, he could see the told his unemployment was taking on their financial situation. They were able to cover rent from Steve's paycheck, but they had to cut back on literally everything else. No more date nights, no more trips to visit Dustin, no more buying the good bacon for breakfast.

It wasn't for lack of trying, it's just that Eddie only had a GED and no marketable skills outside of playing music. Any job he could get would make miserable.

"I just think if we take some time to save up, maybe you'll be able to find something you like and then it'll be better," Steve shrugged.

"I'm not moving back in with Wayne. He did enough for me already."

"Then I'll get another job."

"No, you're not working two jobs. I'll just...go work at the McDonald's."

"Eds, you would hate it there."

"Well, it's a paycheck."

Steve sighed and walked away.

And then it got worse.

Eddie did find a job. He worked part time at the music lesson school. It didn't pay nearly enough, but it was something.

Until one of the parents found out he was working there and threw a fit and he got fired. The owner apologized, but said if it came down to his business and Eddie, he had to let Eddie go.

Back to square one.

Steve was too understanding. It was frustrating.

Eddie started arguments just to make him mad.

Whatever would push him: leaving all the dirty dishes in the sink, staying out late without letting him know, buying the good bacon for breakfast when it wasn't in the budget.

It did start to work eventually.

"Why are you doing this?" Steve asked eventually, after two nights of Eddie coming home late for no other reason than to make Steve upset. He hadn't even done anything, just walked around downtown for a couple hours and thought about how much of a failure he'd been.

"I'm not doing anything," he'd say back.

Steve would push.

Eddie would push back.

Little things turned into big things.

And then Eddie came home drunk.

He hadn't even been to a bar, he hadn't been with anyone else. He'd gotten one six pack of beer and realized halfway through it that he hadn't eaten all day and kept drinking anyway.

The buzz was great until he was stumbling through the front door, waking Steve up from his half-slumber on the couch of the apartment.

Steve didn't even argue. He just shook his head and went to their bedroom, closing the door and making it clear he didn't want to be around Eddie.

The next morning, Steve was already gone when Eddie managed to roll off the couch.

"Steve's not gonna say it, so I will," Robin's voice made him trip over his boots on the floor. She was sitting in the armchair, glaring at him. "You're pushing him away because you don't think you deserve someone who is patient and loving. He used to try that shit with me, with the kids, with Hopper. Started shit just to see if we'd leave. Pretended he was the only one who could deal with his problems."

Eddie blinked back at her, vision blurry from sleep and unshed tears. He wasn't gonna cry in front of Robin.

"I could understand why he did it. He had shitty parents and shitty friends before all of us. Took him some time to get used to being cared for." Robin leaned forward. "But you've had Wayne for a long time. Us. Steve. So what is it that's causing this? Why are you hurting Steve? Why are you hurting yourself?"

Eddie had been to therapy for a month or so after everything. The government insisted on it. He'd even done what they asked of him. Talked about everything that happened, talked about his childhood, talked about being gay in a town that thought being gay was bad enough to send you to hell, but somehow still the least of Eddie's crimes.

The therapist told him it seemed like he was always preparing himself to get hurt, even with the people that he did trust. That was the last time he went to the therapist.

"Because this is all I'll ever be, Robin! Steve should get out while he can, find someone who isn't fuckin' useless. Someone who can get a real job or go to school or something."

"Is this because you can't be on your feet for more than a couple hours?"

Eddie was silent.

"Do you think that means you can't do things? Do you think Steve wants to watch you suffer more than you already have?"

Eddie shook his head once.

"Then here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna shower and clean up the house a little. You're gonna cook that chicken dish Steve loves so much because I went to the deli to get fresh ingredients for you. You're gonna open that bottle of wine I did not steal from Chrissy's restaurant. You're gonna talk to him."

"Okay."

"And then tomorrow, you're gonna come interview for a job at the museum. They're opening a new exhibit called Rock Through The Ages and they're looking for someone to do tours. It's four hours a day, five days a week. Pay is more than you made anywhere else plus tips. Interview is a formality, they already know you're qualified."

"Robin, I-"

"And you're gonna shut up. I love you, too, Eddie. And I love that dingus who loves you. So get your shit together so you can both be as happy as I know you can be."

Eddie hugged her for a long time, probably much longer than Robin would have ever allowed him to if it weren't for the circumstances.

He cleaned himself up, he cleaned up the apartment, he cooked dinner, and he opened the bottle of wine.

Neither of them were big fans of wine, but this was a $100 bottle. Eddie would drink every last drop.

When Steve came through the door at 4:39 on the dot, just like he did every week day, Eddie was holding a glass of wine out to him with a small smile.

"Eds? What's this?"

"Been a while since we've had a date night. Thought maybe we deserved it."

Steve stared back at him blankly, then let out a sob and walked over to him, burying his face in his neck.

"Sh, it's okay, sweetheart. I'm right here," Eddie wrapped him up in his arms, kissing his head. "I'm here."

"You promise?" Steve's broken voice nearly tore Eddie in two. How had he let it get this bad?

"I promise, Stevie. I'm sorry I've been somewhere else in my head."

Steve pulled away, sniffling and looking around the room as he realized that dinner was already set out on the bar and the dishes were done.

"You did all this for me?"

"For us."

"Is that chicken cacciatore?" Steve walked to the plate in his usual spot and smiled. "You made this?"

"I did. Hopefully it's edible. If not, I already have the menu for the Italian place down the road by the phone," Eddie pulled Steve's chair out for him and then sat down next to him.

They talked through dinner, mostly about Steve's day, and then about Eddie's. He brought up the interview and Steve beamed like the sun.

"That sounds perfect for you, Eds."

"I know. I think it'll be great."

The bottle of wine went down easy. Maybe a little too easy.

By the time they realized it was gone, they were giggling and leaning on each other, cheeks red and eyes glazed over with a buzz that was more than just the high alcohol content.

Steve leaned in to kiss him.

Eddie leaned in to kiss him back.

And for the first time in a long time, they stayed up all night, talking, kissing, touching in ways they'd nearly forgotten how to do.

When Eddie got the job, he sent Robin flowers. Nothing fancy, the pay wasn't that good. But he had to thank her for getting his head out of his ass and his ass in shape.

Steve didn't ask when he saw the bill for it, just smiled and kissed the top of Eddie's head while he got ready for his first day of work.

"I love you. Good luck today," Steve said as he fixed his glasses before grabbing his keys to head to his job at the youth center downtown.

"Love you too. Pizza tonight?"

"Sounds good, love. Wine?"

Eddie nodded towards the bottle of $3 wine from the liquor store.

Steve laughed. "I'll grab some Tylenol on my way home."

[laf-outloud]

For any fan of Misha to believe what he supposedly said in today's panel about taking a prank too far, they must either be new to the fandom, or have absolutely no memory of these stories before.

Let's be honest, the fans who think Misha's telling the truth "this time" absolutely know it's not true and are using this new story to persecute Jared, once again.

For those who haven't seen, here are the tweet reports from Misha's panel. Obviously, video will provide proof, but there are enough details to get the gist and these aren't the standard Misha-fan con reporters that like to lie about or twist what was said.

So, the original story about Jared taking a picture was told by Misha on the Inside of You podcast (see below). There was no zero gravity dive. Misha simply forgot to lock the bathroom door. Jared took a picture of him on the toilet, not naked and with no urine in sight. And yes, in retaliation, Misha flushed Jared's phone... the one that had the only pictures of his son, Shep's birth.

As for the getting knocked around, being covered in urine, etc. That comes from a trip Misha took with Rich, Rob, and Matt down to Australia for a convention. Misha tells the story here:

Matt, Rob and Rich have all corroborated that story here and here. It's actually a pretty funny story on it's own.

So, Misha put together some mash up of these two stories, making him the victim (once again) of a dangerous stunt supposedly perpetrated by Jared (which no pilot would ever agree, especially without all passengers belted).

If you haven't caught on by now, Misha lies. And he lies for a purpose. Most often, it's to engender sympathy from his fans so they'll continue to see him as poor, picked-on Misha who can related to them because they are also the 'outcasts' in their world. And if he can relate to them, then they'll continue to give him their money.

You may also wonder why Misha frequently references Jared as being the one to prank him (and often, the only one). One, because he needs Jensen as the other half of the Destiel pairing, which is another way to keep his fans dropping money in the coffers. And two... jealousy. From past stories and behavior, it's obvious Misha's jealous that Jared is as successful as he is, someone who never went to college but has worked steadily for over 24 years in an industry rife with unemployment. Misha likes to say things that imply Jared's only gotten by on his looks and not any kind of talent, but we know that's simply not the case. Actor's aren't employed for that long and that consistent on their looks alone. Talent and hard work are also needed, two traits which Misha obviously doesn't have, so he resorts to stringing along his dwindling fanbase with any story he can, regardless of it's veracity or whom it may hurt in the process.

Finally, Misha knows exactly who his fans are and how his fanbase takes the things he's said, so if he's ever called out and says he was joking and that people misinterpreted what he said, he's lying. And I'd say that lying was the only thing he was good at if it weren't so easy to debunk the lies.