Greyson; the Gay Sun @asexual-sinner - Tumblr Blog

Shout-out to aromantic people whose lives are so fucking busy that they periodically forget what day of the week it is. today is Wednesday, June 5th. Happy Aromantic Visibility Day.

arowitharrows

Today is Thursday, June 5th. Happy Aromantic Visibility Day.

arowitharrows

It's June 5th again!

bread-box-ing

I hope that tomorrow i will have enough time to finish part

moemai

Long may he reign !! 👑✨💜

Print available in my shop !

shymagnolia

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

shymagnolia

okay so i just got my dream job??? a week after applying to it?? and now i’m thinking….maybe this is the good luck post

flagellant

…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment

likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post

coffee-or-hot-cocoa

i need all the help i can get for finals

finnglas

Hey so

the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.

So you know.

This might be the real one, y’all.

avhira

I could use some luck

maxxie-or-smth

what's a little sadomasochism between friends

it-whumping-time

Defiant Whumpee slowly breaking down

Whumpee still biting and snarling at Whumper but they're now flinching whenever Whumper moves too fast

Refusing to scream but now letting out whimpers

Whumpee glaring at Whumper the whole time as they get on their knees.

Snapping back at Whumper constantly but immediately shutting their mouth when Whumper brings up a specific punishment

Still tugging on Whumper when they're dragged to the torture room but now also going limp when they eventually reach their destination

"For fuck's sake can you just give me a break for one day? Just one fucking day." "Hm, before you would have shouted at me the entire time. Now you want a break? My my, you've changed Whumpee." "Yeah well, I don't like getting beaten. That's all."

Whumpee letting out a loud, desperate, "NO!" when Whumper suggests they should be whipped before they immediately shut their mouth and look away.

saetiate

please eat enough and drink enough water and get enough sleep. this is so that you have enough energy. because we need you to be writing and drawing porn on the internet

inkskinned

Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.

I’m not worth the cost of a watch.

inkskinned

i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.

i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.

as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.

disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.

at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.

i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.

i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.

we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.

catbellybuttons

writing the first half of a fic: yaaaay! wooo!!! 🌈💝 fun ideas 😊💖✨️~

writing the second half of a fic: I am in a fight with god himself and he is winning

tokkibean

nothing reveals typos better than the ao3 publish button. who needs spellcheck honestly

alexsrandomramblings

The whole standing on tippy-toes but still having to pull Yasha down to whisper in her ear.

nixdialo

Molly, age 10, had managed to snag a couple of red threads, enough to make bracelets for the three of them. Kingsley eagerly offers his arm for Molly to wrap the string around his wrist, while Lucien rolls his eyes.

"What even is this for? It's not like we need anything more to make us indistinguishable from each other."

"But Luccccci," Molly whines, holding out the thread towards him. "This isn't any normal string, it's special!"

Behind him, admiring the splash of color against his lavender skin, Kingsley snorts. "Don't let that get to his head now. Luci's ego is so fat, I'm amazed he can keep his chin up." A pillow hits him square in the face, knocking him flat on his ass with a squeal.

"No, listen, listen!" Molly waves his hand in Lucien's face, dragging his attention back to him. "Folks say red strings bind people together so they'll always find each other, no matter how lost you get." He glances up at Catha, smiling at her light. "With this, we'll always find our way back to each other."

Lucien goes quiet in thought, but Molly thinks his brother is just humoring him. Especially when he tilts his head and asks, "More Moonweaver shite?"

Molly huffs. "It's very romantic shite. Don't tell me you're suddenly too cool for this."

On the ground, Kingsley cackles.

Lucien throws up his hands with a drawn-out groan. "Alright, put it on, so you two can stop pestering me about it!"

Later that night, Molly catches Lucien by the oil lamp, hunched over one of the books Kingsley swiped for him. His fingers pick at the bracelet, admiring it in the light.

Molly quickly shuts his eyes and bullies into Kingsley's space. He slips off into a slumber, clutching his bracelet with a smile on his face. His brother is such a liar sometimes.

------

Molly ducks under Beau's grapple and rushes forward. "Lucien!!" He can't tell if it's rage or grief that fills his chest. Maybe it's both. The brother he used to tease, who used to put up with Molly and Kingsley's shenanigans, is cutting down his friends. Those damn eyes slide around Lucien's body like some sort of parasite.

His hand clasps around Lucien's wrist, tugging him away from landing another strike towards Fjord. "Stop! Just stop, Luci!" He begs, gripping his hand. "What is all this worth? Just come back... Please, come back with us."

The roaring snowstorm sweeps through them, drowning out the shouts and screams behind them.

Frosty breath pushes past Lucien's lips as he sighs, glancing upon Molly as if he were a child. "This is worth everything, you just don't know it yet." Lucien grips Molly's wrist in return and yanks him in. "But perhaps you'll see reason if you're one with the pattern."

All nine eyes flash, filling his vision with red. Fear fills his chest as he desperately tries to will his legs to move, but his eyes lock him in place. Then someone snatches him from Lucien's grasp. Molly's fingers snag on something before it gives and goes with him.

"Yer a piece of shite!" Kingsley snarls, clinging to Molly as Jester flies them away.

Molly stares down at the shrinking visage of their brother, swallowing the heavy ball of disappointment and despair. Dangling from his fingers are frayed strings of a familiar bracelet. He clutches it tightly as his friends run into the dark with Lucien's warning trailing after them.