#but I vacuumed pretty much the whole house (except other peoples' bedrooms)

[tj-crochets]

Bad news: the coworker I was covering for was supposed to be back today and wasn’t, so I was once again dealing with three times my usual workload*. He’s supposed to be back tomorrow but then I am covering for a different coworker being gone until like mid-next week Good news: I finally figured out what activity my brain has been craving for the last several days! I got stuck in one of those like “cannot start new task until The Task is completed but I do not know what The Task is” loops. It was cleaning! I cleaned a whole bunch and feel a lot better, so I should be able to actually finish something tomorrow Side note, do y’all ever have your brain assign a task Utmost Priority without being able to figure out what task it is? It’s like craving a food but not knowing which food you’re craving.  *it’s difficult to describe why his work is twice as hard for me to do without saying what industry I work in. He’s not doing twice as much work as I am, it’s just transitioning from one person to another makes everyone he works with extra antsy in a way that makes my job harder?

[completely-zucked]

I've been homeless and immobile for a while, but I'm in danger of losing my accommodation and wheels (again).

Mentally and spiritually, I have been homeless for nearly two decades. I have once again been threatened with eviction because I don't have enough money in my bank account to pay my rent or meet my car repayment and other loans. Each time it happens, things get worse and there's no negotiating.

This time around, though, I might call their bluff, because I was already being driven mad (quite literally) by the restrictions, manipulating and gass-lighting (being called a cold, uncaring self-centred, irrational, illogical, lazy, stupid, narcissistic and paranoid sociopath — enough to make a guy with self-esteem and motivation issues suicidal). What's changed is that now I've been banned from using, cleaning and/or performing any maintenance on any room in the house except my bedroom (including bathrooms and toilets), which was previously one of my responsibilities. I have to use outdoor ones/the old servants' quarters, which doesn't have a door on the bathroom. )I live in the southern hemisphere; it's winter here.) I'm not allowed to hang a curtain or take material to make one, so I use an old chlorine bucket in the passageway/corridor outside as an indicator that I'm in there. I'm not allowed to be out there past 21:00 and am not allowed to move my stuff to the servants' quarters or garage because they are being used as storage space for tools and, occasionally, as a home gym by/for my landlord. I'm also not allowed to use any tools or appliances (including vacuum, cleaners, brushes, brooms, dustpans and cloths), because no maintenance. Everything of mine that I don't keep hidden and locked away has been confiscated. Of that, everything that I bought myself has been discarded or claimed as belonging to my landlord and landlady. (My soap, of all things, was the first casualty, which is what tipped me off and prompted my buying locks for those things I could lock away.) I am also not financially able nor permitted to buy more tools, containers or locks (and replacements for those) since my finances are being scrutinised and my choices, decisions and purchases criticised.

My broom is a paintbrush, my dustpan a plastic shopping bag and my duster a roll of paper towel. My vacuum cleaner is a cardboard tube glued to a Pringles can with a PC fan inside. ... And they wonder why I've taken to doing DIY projects that repurpose recyclable household items ; how irrational of me ... Le sigh.

That means no fridge, kettle, microwave or stove. I also don't get cooked meals. That would be fine on its own if I weren't subject to restrictions. I live off powdered milk, coffee, cereal, peanut butter, marmite, bread, orange squash concentrate, syrup, biscuits and bananas. Sometimes, I skim a couple of tablespoons of yoghurt out of the container when they're not around, or dilute fruit juice with water at a ratio of about 1:3, just to have some variety/luxury. I had some meal replacement shake powder too, just to keep me from starving, but that's gone and I can't afford to replace it. If I ask for more, I'll have to pay it back; they keep track of everything they buy for me (including a bottle of vitamins) that I'll have to pay back if/when I get a job again. I already owe about $220. It was, of course, a big deal when I bought myself twelve beers on special for $9 the day I got paid for the first lot of contract work I'd done in nearly six months since losing my job, despite the guy underpaying me by just over $100 because I hadn't insisted on a written agreement and was in no position to haggle/negotiate; the last time I do favours for friends, especially those who're religious. (The fact that I'm rationing out the beers at one a week and am only on my sixth one next weekend doesn't have any relevance to my landlady, who tried to confiscate a couple with intent to give them to my landlord and made an almighty fuss about how selfish I was being when I said I'd be fine with sacrificing them if either of them had just asked for one, how she'd noticed my ex always bought the wine despite our having agreed on certain divisions of costs when we were together, and a whole lot of other irrelevant bullshit.)

I need help getting out before the end of June, assuming I find a job and somewhere to go by then. Otherwise, I'm quite likely to end up on the street or attempting to off myself again. Currently, I have no job, nowhere to go and not even enough money to buy a cheap bicycle for $175. Even if I take my car to a dealer who'll settle the balance of my loan with the bank, I get nothing for it because it's an old model which I haven't been able to afford to take better care of and is pretty much a lemon four years after I drove it off the showroom floor. (I should have traded it in after two, before the new model came out). That's the best deal I've been offered. The alternative is to either trade it in for something else and extend my loan or take an amount that's less than it's worth and continue paying off a loan for a vehicle I no longer have. Hooray for death by a thousand cuts under Consumer capitalism.

Apparently, it's all my fault for not learning my life lessons, growing the fuck up, sorting my life out and GTFO of the family home a hell of a lot sooner (by at least a decade, nearly two), when the physical abuse by my peers first started in small and subtle ways. I thought that would all be behind me when I left high school, then varsity, then two corporate jobs. But no, I'm the kind of person who attracts bullies and toxic, abusive relationships.

The moral of the story

If I had known what I now know and the lessons I have learned when I was a padawan/young twenty-something, I would have taken my education seriously and applied myself to obtaining both CS and EE degrees instead of a crappy, near-worthless diploma, moved into my own two-room shoebox as a priority and bought a bicycle instead of a car. Anywhere I can't reach by bike probably isn't worth going and a car is an immovable liability/waste of money two years after purchase. At least I would have my own space (which I so desperately crave). At least then, I could be an allegedly horrible, reprehensible and repulsive degenerate of a person all by myself without anybody to hurt or hurt me. I'm fucking done with living with other people for a while. Fuck that noise; I want a thousand days of solitude, even if it's in a corrugated iron shack in an informal settlement. I'm prepared to cook my supper in a three-legged potjie over a wood fire and boil collected rainwater in a cast iron pot while I wait for my orchard and mielies to grow.

Honestly, at this stage, I'm prepared to live on a camp bed with a sleeping bag and a camp chair and folding table in somebody's garage, undercroft or old servants' quarters (as long as there's a plug point and running water) just to be able to get away from here. I just want some space of my own to be myself (horrible or otherwise) again and keep my interaction with people to a minimum while I figure out how to cope with/manage my shitty life situation, get back on my feet and out in the world again without being scrutinised, criticised, judged, condemned, restricted, rejected and ostracised. That shit is literally making me crazy and suicidal. It is not in any way conducive to me so much as thinking of an action plan/way forward, let alone pursuing it. Yet, somehow, I still manage to restrict the time I spend buggering around on social media (still too much), which I apparently need to succeed in the modern world, hunt for jobs, write, make music and try to flog my Patreon to disinterested parties. Oh, and I'm also writing a proposal for a social media site for someone who's attempting to gather funding.

Seeing my shrink for two hours a month (which costs me a month's wages from my part-time weekend job) and the afore-mentioned job is not enough, as much as I love animals.

So if you can spare between ten and twenty-seven dollars a month to help keep me afloat, please subscribe to my Patreon. Your support will be greatly appreciated.

[crzytwn]

AJ

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Aimee, DJ’s so tall she has to make up for it somewhere

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither, after the whole exile thing being a real topic that’s not really something either of them considers even while like BIG mad

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? no one!

Who trashes the house? I just feel like they both would on accident?? They need helmets.

Do either of them get physical? Not in a fight.

How often do they argue/disagree? Not That often.

Who is the first to apologise? Neither? I searched sorry on Aimee’s blog and so many convos came up but none were with DJ, I think they’re just those people that like argue, cool off and then whoever wants to make up first goes over to the other one just says some shit like “Do you ever get sad that jellyfish don’t actually make jelly?” and then the fight is forgotten.

Sex:

Who is on top? AIMEE’S A TOP I DIDN’T KNOW

Who is on the bottom? DJ which honestly he’s so big, it’s probably just convenient

Who has the strangest desires? Feels up DJ’s Alley

Any kinks? for sure

Who’s dominant in bed? DJ, Aimee CAN be but she’s definitely specifically into letting DJ tell her what to do.

Is head ever in the equation? Ya sure.

If so, who is better at performing it? I don’t know! I feel like it’s a tie, they’re so obsessed with each other.

Ever had sex in public? No, Aimee would literally faint with how anxious that idea makes her.

Who moans the most? Aimee.

Who leaves the most marks? I don’t KNOW! But I feel like Aimee is an accidental nail digger

Who screams the loudest? So idk maybe DJ since he’s a pincushion apparently

Who is the more experienced of the two? UH! I just do not know! DJ’s fucked Elle and idk if anything will Happen with Karmen but Aimee is humping around with her own fuck buddy so?

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Aimee would only call it making love, she’s flowery like that.

Rough or soft? I simply cannot imagine them having rough sex without injuries but also they’re not gentle people so that’s fun?

How long do they usually last? 🤔 They are athletic and would presumably have decent stamina...

Is protection used? Tf if I know, Aimee wants kids and DJ needs an heir.

Does it ever get boring? No, they’ve been waiting their entire lives for it. It could never.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Swan Lake? That castle is abandoned so it’s safe from Aimee’s public fears.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? YA ya ya.

If so, how many children do your muses want/have? I think they would have a lot, half out of being stupid but like Aimee would love to spite Uberta and have so many perfect HALF blue blooded heirs and spares for the kingdom.

Who is the favorite parent? DJ, obviously.

Who is the authoritative parent? Aimee.

Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? DJ, but like Aimee would end up tagging along anyway.

Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? DJ but honestly it’s probably Aimee’s candy.

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Both of them and they are EMBARRASSING.

Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Aimee. This is her area of expertise for sure.

Who changes the diapers? Maids or Aimee.

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Maids, Aimee would WANT to but then never wake up

Who spends the most time with the children? They’d both be so obsessed with their kids are you kidding.

Who packs their lunch boxes? The castle cook.

Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Rogers!

Who cleans up after the kids? Maids, but Aimee would try to do it first.

Who worries the most? AIMEE!!!

Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Also Aimee.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both of them!

Who is the little spoon? The visual of Aimee jetpacking all six foot one million inches of DJ is too funny and cute for words.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? DJ, Aimee’s too paranoid

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?   Both of them honestly, but I think Aimee would be very into hand holding so they can at least have unlimited physical contact.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? I don’t know if either of them like to sit still for that long so probably not for an extended period of time.

Who gives the most kisses? DJ, but Only because it’s harder for Aimee to get to his face but she definitely kisses his hand.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Target practice!!

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Probably in bed?

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Could not tell u, def on brand for them both.

How often do they get time to themselves? Enough? They definitely MAKE time!

Sleeping:

Who snores? If both do, who snores the loudest? Dunno.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? Share!

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Aimee likes her space but also she probably HAS to touch him while they’re sleeping.

Who talks in their sleep? Dunno

What do they wear to bed? Probably underwear? If anything?

Are either of your muses insomniacs? Mine isn’t, is DJ?

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Melatonin gummies probs

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? More like draped over each other. Top or bottom is who goes down first.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Aimee has the most hair.

Who wakes up first? Aimee is the more On Top of things one so she probably wakes DJ up even now.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Aimee but it’s cereal. DJ probably would too but he def would’ve spilled too many times to be allowed ever again.

What is their favourite sleeping position? this

Who hogs the sheets? DJ, Aimee probably kicks sheets off.

Do they set an alarm each night? Aimee naturally wakes up early so probably not unless they have to do something DUMB early.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Yep

Who has nightmares? Aimee thee Coward

Who has ridiculous dreams? I don’t knooow

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? DJ, he’s big.

Who makes the bed? Aimee, but then the maids probably remake it because she didn’t do That good a job.

What time is bed time? Whenever they feeel like it.

Any routines/rituals before bed? I don’t know!!!

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? They give off morning people vibes but if i’m wrong correct me?

Work:

Who is the busiest? King Derek Jr!

Who rakes in the highest income? The king!

Are any of your muses unemployed? Uh I literally almost said Aimee but I guess being his queen like counts as a job.

Who takes the most sick days? Aimee is both a lil bit of a hypochondriac and also is probably sick a lot.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Could not tell you, but I would guess DJ because he like fell or something.

Who sucks up to their boss? Is Aimee’s boss DJ BECAUSE she sure does suck up to him.

What are their jobs? King and Queen of wherever tf, probably.

Who stresses the most? Aimee!

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Aimee is probably Uncomfortable with it for a whiiile but I think that’s it?

Are your muses financially stable? Duh.

Home:

Who does the washing? The maids, Aimee doesn’t do her own laundry NOW so she would get over that hang up the fastest.

Who takes out the trash? Idk whoever’s job that is.

Who does the ironing? Aimee and also the maids.

Who does the cooking? The castle cooks.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Both of them.

Who is messier? DJ

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? DJ

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Does DJ? He pays people to do a lot so idk.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Ew

Who is the prankster around the house? DJ

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Aimee! But also probably DJ!

Who mows the lawn? The gardener!

Who answers the telephone? Who calls people!?

Who does the vacuuming? The maids and Aimee.

Who does the groceries? Aimee but only for like her own personal things, she hates asking.

Who takes the longest to shower? DJ has a lot of body to shower also Aimee doesn’t like SHOWERS that much.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Aimee, I just KNOW she takes hot baths and then passes out from the temperature shift getting out of the tub.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Technically no, but that much money Is a problem to Aimee.

How many cars do they own? I don’t know!

Do they own their home or do they rent? It’s a castle soo

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Idk man that kingdom seems a lil coastal?

Do they live in the city or in the country? In a castle!

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Sure!

What’s their song? Today I say Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Facetime probably.

Where did they first meet? Idk man wherever people put babies in the castle

How did they first meet? Their dads like waved their lil baby hands at each other.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? DJ

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? DJ with his lil princey frat ass.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? They both do because THEY BOTH TRIP OVER SO MUCH.

Any mental issues? No? But like who doesn’t? Idk?

Who’s terrified of bugs? Who kills the spiders around the house? Aimee is TERRIFIED and would stand in a chair screaming for DJ to kill it for absolutely ever.

Their favourite place? I sure don’t know.

Who pays the bills? DJ but I’m sure Aimee would offer anyway like they wouldn’t have the same money in the future.

Do they have any fears for their future? No? Aimee’s parents got divorced when she was pretty young but like the biggest obstacle was GETTING DJ, she’s not that worried about losing him. Except to death, but she’s always afraid of him dying.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? DJ? But I hope not because Aimee would hate it for like half the time it would take to eat it.

Who uses up all of the hot water?   Does the hot water run out?

Who’s the tallest? TAKE A WILD GUESS

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both of them, but Aimee for sure. DJ’s shower times are not his alone time according to her.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Aimeeeeee

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Aimeeee, it’s very bad but DJ knew what he was getting into

What do they tease each other about? What don’t they tease each other about.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? I don’t know? Neither of them?

Do they have mutual friends? Who crushed first? Any alcohol or substance related problems?   Yeah Jojo and Karmen and whoever else i’m forgetting rn but i’m sure Aimee will get over her inexplicable Artie disdain, I don’t know who crushed first and i’m sire they don’t either. Nope!

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? DJ!

Who swears the most? I don’t know! I said Aimee is the most likely to teach their kids swears but idk if that necessarily means she’s saying more.

[dragetunge]

@timewept​ sent:  ☆ with hisiccup hdkhsjdh

The Ultimate Relationship Tag

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Who trashes the house? Do either of them get physical? How often do they argue/disagree? Who is the first to apologise?  Hiccup and Douxie really don’t have disagreements and if they do they’re exceedingly small and aren’t a big matter. Just a disagreement about dinner or what not. Usually its met with kisses and laughs.

Sex:

Who is on top? : Primarily Hiccup. ( But they do like to swap from time to time) Who is on the bottom? : Primarily Douxie (as mentioned when Douxie is in the mood he tops) Who has the strangest desires? : I don’t think there is any I can think of as of this moment  Any kinks? : Hiccup is the kinky one of the two. Thought what they are stays between him and Douxie. Sorry no spicy tidbits ;) Who’s dominant in bed? Hiccup most of the time. (except when its the Douxie times) Is head ever in the equation? 100 % all the time.  If so, who is better at performing it? Hiccup he’s been with a few partners to know and experience it  Ever had sex in public? hfdgndfgdfgd yes  Who moans the most? Douxie. These two experience a lot of new things together.  Who leaves the most marks? Hiccup. He leaves the most mark and almost makes a game out of where to leave the most revealing to where Douxie can’t hide them before work. Who screams the loudest? Who is the more experienced of the two? Hiccup is definitely more experienced since he’s been married twice before.  Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Both. It depends when the mood strikes them.  Rough or soft? Depends on the mood.  How long do they usually last? A while....Hiccup’s a dragon rider they can go for about an hour or so.  Is protection used? No there isn’t. Does it ever get boring? Definitely not. Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? The Renn Faire tents in the back while they were working 

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? If so, how many children do your muses want/have? Who is the favorite parent? Who is the authoritative parent? Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Who changes the diapers? Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Who spends the most time with the children? Who packs their lunch boxes? Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Who cleans up after the kids? Who worries the most? Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?

No kids they’re going to be the best gay uncles though to everyone else’s kids. Plus Hiccup’s had kids and doesn’t want to do that again. 

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? They both love cuddles. Who doesn’t like cuddles? Who is the little spoon? Douxie most of the time except Hiccup wants to be the little spoon. Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Hiccup 100% and he walks it off while leaving Douxie flustered and completely red in the face. Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?   Both of them do after they’ve started dating one another.  How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? They reposition into a new cuddle formation.  Who gives the most kisses? They don’t really keep count seeing they’re always smooching or giving the other smooches some place on the other.  What is their favorite non-sexual activity? They really like doing things together. Like cook or play video games. They love movie nights Where is their favorite place to cuddle?  The couch. They have a comfy couch. Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? This is probably Hiccup more than Douxie but I feel like Douxie’s had his fair share of doing it.  How often do they get time to themselves? They do not like being apart from one another when they’re in the same space. 

Sleeping:

Who snores? Hiccup most likely.  If both do, who snores the loudest? Hiccup’s not very loud when he does. Its more of a dozing snore.  Do they share a bed or sleep separately? In the same bed. They gotta.  If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? These boys are on top of each others. Limbs are usually a mess between them both.  Who talks in their sleep? Hiccup again. He gets ideas during his sleep and probably has said them to Douxie while asleep. Like Douxie’s awake when he does XD What do they wear to bed? Doux wears pjays and Hiccup wears a lose tshirt that doesn’t really fit and a pair of underwear. Its easier that way so he can air out the stub.  Are either of your muses insomniacs? Douxie mainly but Hiccup has his nights  Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? No I don’t think so Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Their limbs cannot be distinguished when they’re asleep in the bed Who wakes up with bed hair? Hiccup. The king of floof in the morning this one Who wakes up first? Depends on the day really.  Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Hiccup. He’s the cook in the relationship. And he loves spoiling Douxie  What is their favorite sleeping position? They get comfy sleeping any position tbh Who hogs the sheets? Hiccup. He is a comfort fiend.  Do they set an alarm each night? Douxie does seeing he works at a local restaurant  Can a television be found in their bedroom? Yes. It’s primarily there so Douxie can watch his shows when he’s not going to sleep on some nights Who has nightmares? They both do. And they’re never pretty Who has ridiculous dreams? Hiccup again. He has some pretty weird dreams which usually spark new ideas the next day Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Hiccup again. He sprawls out so he can cuddle Douxie mostly. Douxie has no place to go but sleep on top of him.  Who makes the bed? Douxie does. Hiccup’s pretty useless in that department.  What time is bed time? Whenever they decide its bed time.  Any routines/rituals before bed? Douxie doesn’t have any. But Hiccup rubs his leg down nightly. To prevent chaffing the next day and to soothe any ache he might be having as well. Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Douxie. If not woken by Hiccup or Archie they have awoken the bear. 

Work:

Who is the busiest? Douxie seeing he works outside of the apartment.  Who rakes in the highest income? Hiccup does.  Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope Who takes the most sick days? Douxie when Hiccup gets sick Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Douxie cause Hiccup has no self control and usually tries to prevent Douxie from going to work. (he’s usually very successful most days) Who sucks up to their boss? I dont think either of them do? What are their jobs? Douxie’s a server at a high end restaurant close to the apartment. Hiccup makes swords and other trinkets and sells them online and does custom work for high prices.  Who stresses the most? Douxie most likely. His job involves people Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? I think both of them like what they do. Hiccup’s happy to be tinkering and making weapons and Douxie does love working with other people and making their day a little bit brighter.  Are your muses financially stable? They’re very well off. 

Home:

Who does the washing? Hiccup Who takes out the trash? Hiccup Who does the ironing? Hiccup Who does the cooking? Hiccup Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Douxie doesn’t cook much but he’s not horrible but most likely Douxie.  Who is messier? Both?  Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Neither Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Douxie. After a long day he just yeets clothes before crawling into bed next to Hiccup. Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither Who is the prankster around the house? They both get into a prank way but Hiccup always starts them.  Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? They both lose their keys when they gotta go out. They’re hopeless like that.  Who mows the lawn? They dont have a lawn Who answers the telephone? They always answer their cellphones when someone calls  Who does the vacuuming? Hiccup Who does the groceries? Hiccup primarily does but when Douxie’s off work they like to go together so he can let Douxie pick out his own snacks.  Who takes the longest to shower? Hiccup does. He’s disabled and needs to sit down in the shower.  Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Douxie does. He gotta cover all the hickey’s Hiccup leaves. 

[ I hate this outs Hiccup as the house bitch but I’m also thriving because of it.]

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? No never.  How many cars do they own? They don’t drive. They have a whole dragon and can walk.  Do they own their home or do they rent? They own their cabin in the woods North of the City. And they’re renting to own their condo in NYC Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Both Do they live in the city or in the country? Both  Do they enjoy their surroundings? Yes they do. Douxie’s the more lively one out of the both of them and loves to go out and see things or go to places more than Hiccup does. When, Hiccup goes out he does like to observe.  What’s their song? “All of Me” by John Legend What do they do when they’re away from each other? Think about the other mainly. They really do not like being apart from one another.  Where did they first meet? Douxie’s bookshop back in Arcadia How did they first meet? Hiccup went to Douxie’s bookshop looking for a particular book about gemstones and entered Douxie’s shop. He really didnt pay much attention to Douxie seeing he was hyper focused on funding that book. Until he fell off the ladder and met Douxie face to face while hanging upside down because his prosthetic got stuck on the wood of the ladder. Who spends the most money when out shopping? DOUXIE Who’s more likely to flash their assets? I dont think either would Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? This is Douxie 100% because when Hiccup does trip or fall he looks to the item in question and calls it a whore or a slut for inconveniencing him.  Any mental issues? Im not disclosing this one sorry Who’s terrified of bugs? Seems like Douxie  Who kills the spiders around the house? Hiccup takes them outside of their home so they do not get squashed.  Their favorite place? I feel like any place becomes a favorite so long as they’re together.  Who pays the bills? Hiccup takes care of the finances. He’s done it pretty much before and can do it.  Do they have any fears for their future? Oh yes they definitely do. But they do talk to one another a lot when these fears arise and they comfort one another.  Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Hiccup. He utterly spoils Douxie but those fancy dinners are usually done at home because he’s a very good cook.  Who uses up all of the hot water? Neither. They usually shower together most of the time. Who’s the tallest? Hiccup coming in 6′1 Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? They’re both very guilty of doing this. They just like being together. And they become very relaxed when they bathe together.  Who wanders around in their underwear? Hiccup does seeing he doesn’t really leave their apartment unless he really has to. Also due to his health he really just decides to stay home unless he knows Douxie’s having a bad day at work and ventures out.  Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Douxie does. Hiccup cannot sing worth a damn.  What do they tease each other about? Anything and everything.  Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Modern clothing is new to Hiccup so he tries a lot of new things and Douxie does cringe about it.  Do they have mutual friends? Of course they do. Basically everyone they know Who crushed first? Douxie because a pretty roguishly good looking boy appeared in his book store and fell on his property.  Any alcohol or substance related problems? No Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Hiccup because he does get drunk but he usually does it at home. One time he did and he put googly eyes on everything in the pantry and Douxie couldn’t eat anything the next day because he thought the things in their pantry had feelings.  Who swears the most? Douxie. Im not saying Hiccup doesn’t swear. Douxie just does it more than he does. 

[voronii]

Please : write that rivetra quarantined au

ALSKJDHF AYE I GOT YOU FAM! It’s short but I hope it’ll do!

 Most people in town didn’t mind the lockdown. The streets were quiet during the day for the first time in years, they got to work in the comfort of they own home or didn’t have to work at all. The perfect opportunity to pick up a new hobby. Or that’s what Hanji had said over the phone while Petra desperately tried to get in contact with people in the outside world.

Yes, she had Levi nervously roaming around in her living room, but during these times he only frustrated her. After she woke up with a cold two days ago, he has been cleaning the house viciously and she wasn’t sure if he even stopped at night.

That in itself would’ve been okay, it’s nothing new. Whenever one of them got sick, he would clean pretty much everything to “get the germs out”. However, what wasn’t okay was that he has been keeping a distance of at least three feet, was wearing disposable gloves, masks and was basically completely covered, with an exception for his eyes and above all, didn’t want to sleep in their bed anymore.

She wasn’t feeling well and craving his physical affection. There weren’t any quick embraces, casual “accidental” brushing against each other’s hand nor the hand that casually rested on her knee when they sat together. Actually, they weren’t sitting together at all.

She lifted her feet while Levi was trying to get the vacuum cleaner under their couch.

‘Say-’

‘Go back to bed.’

Ah yes, what a poetic boyfriend he was.

Instead of obeying, she let herself sink into the couch while trying to suppress a coughing fit. When this didn’t work, she saw Levi staring her down from the corner of her eyes and dragged herself back to their bedroom, as he asked. Oh sorry no, as he ordered. 

The room was dark and warm which made it hard to breathe. As soon as the high temperature hit her face, her nose decided to clog up, forcing her to resort to her mouth, which wouldn’t have been that big off a deal if her throat wasn’t already drier than old bread. She made herself fall down on the bed, at this point everything she did would make her feel like she was burning up, so there was no point in avoiding it.

She already tried to open a window yesterday, only to get yelled at by the man of the house since it’s been said that heat killed the virus. Although she doubted if she caught it to begin with. For her, this felt like a common cold, maybe even an allergic reaction. Everything was heavy and everything was exhausting, even breathing felt like a task.

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

She couldn’t remember when she fell asleep or for how long she has been sleeping. What she did know, was that she had a lot of coughing fits in her sleep, due to the raw and stinging sensation in her throat. As she tried to sit up and noticed her clothes sticking to her body she groaned, desperate for a shower, only to get attacked by another group of coughs.

‘You sound like a dying dog.’ With his ridiculous outfit still on, Levi made his way to their bed, placed a strip of tablets and a glass of water on her nightstand before looking at her at her. ‘Well shit, you look awful.’

She probably did. She knew she did. But she was so exhausted from everything and felt so disgusting with the sweat dripping down her neck, she couldn’t help but tear up, although the sneeze that has been stuck in her nose for a minute was contributing to her tear flow.

He sat down on the bed beside her, running his gloved fingers through her bangs. ‘There’s no need to cry about it.’ It felt gross. She already felt gross to begin with, the thin layer of latex sticking to her damp forehead didn’t feel refreshing at all. But damn did she crave that touch.

'I am gross and I feel gross and I know that I’m gross and everything is gross and you telling me that I’m gross and keeping your distance from me and not touching me doesn’t help at all.’ Her voice was raspy and barely audible while she just spit every word out in one breath. He handed her a tissue, since her nose started to drip from all the crying as well.

He wasn’t that great of a caretaker like Petra. When he got sick, she would try to always be ready to take proper care of him. Changing the bedsheets every day, making healthy meals, be sure he took the meds that were necessary to get better and more. He never asked her to, he could take care of himself just fine, and yet she always did.

Meanwhile, when something happened to her, all panic breaks loose. Especially during times like these, where the whole world and it’s activities seem to have stopped to prevent people from getting sick. And of course, she had to catch it, he felt like he failed her. Like he wasn’t cautious enough, didn’t clean enough, like he just didn’t do enough. But in his panic, he forgot she needs some love too.

He sighed, placed a kiss on her forehead (through his maks of course because that’s the peak of pandemic romance) and said; 'Let’s get you under a cold shower then, I’ll change the sheets.’

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

After doing so, she entered their living room with clean clothes and wet hair. 'That’s exactly why you got sick.’ Levi nod at her hair while he spoke. She ignored him and sat down on the couch again, trying to dry her hair with her towel while Levi, to her surprise, sat next to her after placing a tray on the salon table.

'I made tea with honey.’  Levi didn’t have to courage to take anything off, he still wore his face mask and latex gloves, as long as he replaced them with new once every fifteen minutes it should be fine. 'For your throat.’ He explained after a few seconds of silence, unsure what to do now since he wasn’t cleaning and told himself not to for at least a while. Okay, an hour maybe, he finally had time off and wanted to use it to be as productive in the house as he could. But having some time off to take care of his loved one couldn’t hurt.

He caught Corona the next day.

[kiraawrites]

2MSS #23: Quality of Life (?)

From @writingprompts post.

Day 23 of the 2 Month Short Stories Challenge w/ @flyingfalconflower12

Word count: 1978

Constructive criticism welcome!

I want money, a mansion and a pretty girl. That day was Life-Switching day. The day our souls would switch in a manner so unpredictable that it was nicknamed The Great Casino. We would enter new bodies, with different genders, ages and wealth levels. This system was supposed to address inequality. But I was not sure how, as it seemed to boil down to how well-off one was. 365 days to make it big, or bust.

It was my first time in America. Over the past few years, I had a streak of Eastern European lives, followed by four years of being in China. I was a James Luther, living in a small apartment in a city full of people adjusting to their new lives. There were many smiles but twice as many sad faces. Guess I'm really not alone in this struggle. The apartment was outfitted with furniture that seemed older than the apartment itself. In the cracked bedroom mirror, I studied my new self. Last year's Luther definitely didn't make it.

Judging by the poor furniture, unemptied wastebasket and an emerging beer belly, I had a lot of things to do. To my luck, there was a gym next door. With the few dollar bills in my wallet, I got a membership card and started on the machines. Did I really deserve this life? I've never liked anything I got — except when I was an attractive Chinese guy. Well, I suppose I did flunk my college final exams last year... Sweat was dripping off me as if I had walked through a thunderstorm. My arms were shaking. Flexing my biceps turned into a fit of agonising pain. I gave up and returned home.

"I hate this new life," muttered the man behind the counter.

"I hate my new life too."

Slumped behind my wooden desk, I thought of what to do next. Eventually, I logged onto the Citizen Database to check my occupation and credentials. It took a while, scrolling through hundreds of Jameses. Most of them were my level (judging wealth-wise) and that made me smile, albeit somewhat bitterly. When clicking my name, I held my breath and wished for the best.

I worked at a MacDonald's and skimmed through high school.

God forbid. I failed one test and now they're giving me someone who has failed a hundred. I groaned and pummelled the table with my fists. Y'know what? I'll give this guy one good year. No matter how far down I am on the social ladder, at least I can have an office job next year.

---------------------

The switch is all about your quality of life. What is that? I was manning the counter, taking orders in the high-speed lunch hour.  The faces before me were dulled down with drowsiness, their lips forming a flat line. Monotone voices said orders. Echoes of their souls. No one was living in the moment. Our thoughts were occupied by the next year; its blessings and damnations tantalising as always.

I'm stuck in this trap. Just like everyone else. Well, time to break out of it. I attempted a smile on the next customer. Her face remained grim, preoccupied with something else.

Another one at the counter. The same unchanged expression. Stiff hands enclosing credit cards. As the crowds thinned, my heart sank. People were taking their last bites of their Big Macs. The restaurant was silent except for the footsteps in the kitchen. We were all unhappy. Dissatisfied. It's a hopeless vicious cycle, ain't it?

An old woman pulled the door open. Eyes landed on her as she hobbled over to the counter, her walking stick dragging across the floor. Her eyes were downturned and watery. Every step she took looked as if it hurt.

"Good afternoon, madam. What can I get you?" I asked in my most cheerful tone. It was the best I could do for a stranger having a bad day.

"Dear lord, you are the first person I've seen with a smile today!" she croaked. "People like you give me hope for this world."

In her eyes was the warmth of genuine fondness. The corners of her lips crept upwards as she looked over me. Something in my head prompted me to grin, and she did too. It was a fragment of joy in the often-upsetting world. From then on, I greeted every customer with the same geniality.

---------------------

Stacked books glinted under my desk lamp. My hand tightened and loosened around a ballpoint pen as my eyes scanned over the question a few more times. It was nearing midnight and I was only on the second problem sum. Everything was tedious, much slower than it had been in any other year. The gears would not click.

The business course was carried out every weekday evening, just thirty minutes after my shift at a nearby community college. It was a small class with a subpar teacher that was barely warming up to his new profession. As I stumbled through lesson material, I kept a goal in my mind. I wanted a better job, something that would elevate me to a much higher position. An office job. Yes, that's what I want.

Ten minutes had passed. I threw down the pen, heaved a sigh of pent-up frustration and flung myself onto the creaking bed.

---------------------

Back at the gym. My arms felt like falling off. But I'm not as weak as before. I held my breath and pushed for the fifteenth rep on the machine. My chin reached the top of the bar and I dropped down; a dead stone.

"Good to see you, James. How long have you been coming here?" asked another man. "I remember when you couldn't even do five reps on that thing."

"Ten and a half months. Ever since the switch. Every other day, I'm here."

I clenched my fists and looked from one arm to another. I definitely had more muscle — they bulged as my arms tensed up. But that's not the main thing. Not at all. I felt so much better. It was the small things; being able to walk from A to B without exhausting myself or lifting a box without ever wanting to collapse.

With my towel, I wiped sweat from my forehead and waved the man goodbye. My thoughts flickered back to home. When are those interview results coming back? I need that job for next year, goddamnit.

---------------------

I flicked the lights on and surveyed the living room. The furniture was still the same: a second-hand sofa, a tiny table barely fitting two. An absolutely ugly home. But I love it, I thought as I sunk onto the sofa.

Most years were filled with a sense of impermanence. Time passing by, nothing mattering in the end. This year was different. I had changed my life; I had gripped it like a steering wheel and turned it around. I felt reborn. But it won’t matter in the end. This world is all about the money, and I need that job for it.

Rows upon rows of emails illuminated my face in the dark. They were all titled “Job Application for [Position Name]”. They didn’t even tell me whether I got in. Is that a bad sign? I shivered —  felt like puking. Rumbling deep in my stomach reminded me of the dinner I had yet to eat. I should get on with opening all five of them.

Number one. Rejected. Alright, not my favourite of them all anyway. Kinda underpaid too. I forced a smile. I’ll be alright.

Number two. Not my favourite, but the pay is good. That’s what matters. I opened it with trembling hands. Rejected. Biting my lips, I groaned. Guess I was a tiny bit unqualified.

Number three. If all these attempts have failed, is there even any time to settle into a new job? Rejected. I suck. My eyes were watering as breathing became difficult. The back of my throat was salty with suppressed tears.

Number four. Rejected. As expected. How stupid was I to think they would accept me? I rank so low compared to everyone else. I’ll never, never be able to escape this trap. The underside of my jaw was wet and cold. I gasped for air as I choked on my tears.

Number five. I was shaking head to toe. All my effort... Doesn’t it mean something? Rejected. My voice sounded throughout the whole house as I cried out in my confusion and pain, a knot forming in my chest.

Clenching my fists, I punched the wall. The plaster gave way beneath my fist, falling to the floor. I staggered back in shock. My foot caught on the legs of the nearby mirror. As it fell, I stretched my arms out. It slipped from my grasp and crashed on the floor. Small shards of glass were scattered across the floor like crystalline tears.

As I vacuumed the floor, I steadied my breathing and calmed down. There is a chance still. But I’m happier now than I was before, no matter what. No matter what.

---------------------

It was the night before Life-Switching day. I was rolling around in my bed, counting the seconds till midnight. The city was lively. Conversations droned on in bars and restaurants as people paid their last goodbyes to friends and fantasised about the future. Billboards were ready to switch to their “New Year, New Me” displays, attracting the few people fortunate enough to enter a life of wealth.

I still had no new job. At the back of my mind, it worried me. Yet, I had this sense that it was alright. A sense of contentedness passed over me for the first time in a while. Maybe it’s the finality of it all.

23:50. Ten minutes remaining. I found myself wishing to stay in this run-down apartment; remain as a man with a job at MacDonald’s. It was the newness of the drive to improve that made me want to stay, I knew. There was a potential to grow as James Luther, as I had witnessed.

23:59. One minute left. I gripped the edges of my bed and shut my eyes for the switch. It was coming, whether I liked it or not. I counted the seconds in my head. The last minute passed too fast. I snapped my eyes open, ready for the worst. However, I was there in that bed, staring at the plain white ceiling.

00:01, the bedside clock displayed. My phone showed the same as well. I peeked out of the window to see that the billboards had begun their campaigns. Something’s probably wrong. I’m so tired — might as well sleep.

09:00. Rubbing my eyes open, I looked around and expected a brand new apartment. But there it was: the mirror without glass and the desk beside it. The roof was pale white, as always. I must be dreaming. I pinched myself too hard and yowled.

At the front door, I grabbed the morning’s papers and scanned them for any anomalies. No. None! People were walking about as usual in the city. I pressed a palm against my forehead and thought hard. In the editor’s column was the yearly cheer up/congratulations nonsense. Having nothing else to calm my mind, I read it.

A few sentences caught my eye. “It’s all about the quality of life, they say. Nowhere does it mention material wealth or possessions. Does that mean a common man can break the trend?”

Nowhere. I spun around and gaped in realisation. I’ve been searching for the wrong thing this whole time! I found the key out of the trap! Someone was knocking my door. I opened it with a smile to find two black men in suits, their shoulders broad and imposing.

“We’d like your presence for an important government study.”

Taglist

@galaxy-charm @rhyseoshaughnessy @icedcoffeewriting @jiynix

[here-i-acquit-myself]

Longest, rambling post of my life. But I have hope that if I write it all down, I can somehow move past it, and then maybe my art, writing, friendships, and relationships won’t suffer anymore. 

Some things you should know before I even start: 

- I have ALWAYS been poly. I have been in poly relationships since I was 19 (I am almost 27). It hasn’t been easy, I’ve learned a lot and made a lot of mistakes, but I’ve never hidden it from anyone. At this time in my life, two years or so ago, I had two live-in partners and we were a triad. I had been with one partner for seven years, I had been with the other about three. When the subject of this narrative (Louis) and I got together, they were ALSO dating someone else. They had a girlfriend. I had met their girlfriend, I knew they were together and I was fine with it (of course). 

- Louis and I are multiple, which some of you probably know what that means without me having to explain it and some of you are probably like ????? the fuck. It’s something I don’t really want to talk about because I don’t feel like defending my head, but if I can boil it down to bare bones for the sake of the narrative, just know that it means both of us come with handfuls of extra people and they have relationships with each other as well. 

- Obligatory - there are two sides to every story, this is just mine. I handled a lot of things badly in this situation, but I still need to let these feelings out. I need to feel heard because one thing about Louis is our mutuals will never, ever see some of these things about them.  Everyone loves them and thinks they’re a bright spot of sunshine. Which is fine. But it would be nice to be believed after so much public suffering and humiliation. 

The Narrative: 

I met Louis three (almost four) years ago because we worked the same job. We were friends. I thought they were so cool and just really wanted them to like me. I also had a crush on another coworker (Armand), and the three of us were friends. 

About two years ago, Louis invited Armand and I over for dinner and a movie. Louis’ house is very small and only has a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. So we were sitting in the bedroom, on the bed, watching movies. I was extremely nervous because I had such a crush on both of them. (To my knowledge, at the time, Louis was in a monogamous relationship and I respected that, I never made a move). It was getting really late, and after what felt like hours of my working up the nerve, I finally summoned enough courage to hold Armand’s hand. It got better - he WANTED to hold my hand. I was overjoyed, even more so when he leaned over to give me a kiss.  Louis was absolutely livid. He got up and left the room, left the house. I wasn’t quite sure why he was upset (maybe he didn’t want us kissing in his room?) Armand went out to talk to him but he wasn’t feeling incredibly communicative. We all ended up sleeping in the same bed anyway, hoping in the morning he would tell us what was wrong. We all had work the next day. 

We were all VERY close at this point, so it was unusual for us not to speak at work. Louis did not say a WORD. He did not speak to us at all. He looked like he was going to cry the entire time. Armand and I could not get him to say a word to either of us. 

I know this is a whole lot of set-up, but it really sets the tone for the entire relationship. 

It comes out at the end of the day that Louis was upset because HE had a crush on ME. And when I kissed Armand it felt like the ultimate betrayal. We all talked about it and it eventually boiled down to, why does it have to be this way? Why don’t I date both of them? I really liked both of them. Armand had very strong feelings for Louis. Louis had strong feelings for me. Armand and I had already expressed our feelings for each other. It seemed like a seamless transition. 

And we were all happy! For like, I don’t know, two weeks? Louis started asserting his boundaries. He did not want Armand and I to hold hands while we were all out in public together. He wanted us to keep PDA to a minimum altogether. It started involving the headspace (where X from his headspace did not want X from my headspace to be in a relationship with anyone Armand had). (And, as an extra note, my headspace is full of poly people as well. I have NEVER taken kindly to anyone trying to enforce monogamy on them).  Armand and I tried to work around everything, but just a couple months into the relationship it was all too much. With Louis breaking down almost every time I visited him, saying it hurt too much, he could not stand my relationship with Armand, etc. I ended up breaking down and breaking up with Armand, I could not take the pressure, and Louis’ struggles with the relationship and his rules and his breakdowns were haunting me even in bed. It absolutely sucked the joy out of dates and overnights. And in hindsight, I fucked up pretty badly with this one. 

After Armand and I broke up, my relationship with Louis drastically changed, and I mean, everything was good for a while. My relationship with my now-husband got back on the rails and started greatly improving (we had been on the rocks for a while), although my relationship with my then-wife was starting to decline (it’s oversimplifying a lot but I’m trying to stay focused on the key points). Louis and my husband (James) started dating each other as well. I was like, this is perfect! The three of us had an intense relationship, and it got very domestic very quickly. We even started talking about everyone moving in together. Even though things were far from perfect, they were just perfect enough that the weird rules and limitations that were still in place seemed like reasonable limits that I was just overreacting to. 

This is all glossing over a very important undercurrent: the idea that his mental health was more important than anyone else’s. HIS needs were special, HE needed more consideration, HE deserved special treatment because he has BPD. (Note: he talks about his BPD like I have never known another goddamn person in this world with BPD. I have known several people, including my mother, and none of them act like he does). So in his mind, sure there were rules but there were always to be exceptions at his discretion, because he HAD to be the exception, goddamn it. 

And then it just all went hideously South. I am not privy to all of the details of what went wrong (or if I’ve been told the details I have absolutely lost them in the vacuum of my “HIDE ALL OF THAT BAD THINGS” brain), but Louis and James broke up. It was a big time, messy breakup. Now I’m torn between the two houses. I’m spending almost every other night with Louis. 

And the breakdowns just get more and more frequent. He can’t STAND that I’m still with James. He doesn’t understand how I could be with someone who hurt him so much (and James doesn’t understand how I could be with someone who hurt him so much, either). He’s cutting again, threatening suicide again. There are countless times when I’m called to his house in the middle of the night, breaking through his door and into his bathroom because he has swallowed a bunch of pills, or because he is trying to cut himself open in his bathtub. There were numerous times where I was calming him down, bandaging him up, taking him to bed. This became like, a weekly occurrence. 

And things became bad at work, too. He was ALWAYS blowing up at me at work  I work retail, so I would be on the register and he would be blowing up my phone. He would get mad at me if I did not read and reply to his messages, and usually when I did that, I just got so upset that I would cry. I cried in front of customers. I had to excuse myself from the register to go cry behind the building. Sometimes, I would start my shift with him saying “I’m done. It’s over. (RE: We are breaking up)” so I would go through my whole shift with this “we are broken up” argument, although he would still be texting me, berating me, and then by the end of my shift he doesn’t want to break up with me, he needs me, he’s having a panic attack, he’s going to hurt himself. And there were a few times I got fed up and tried to end it myself, but I ALWAYS caved because I thought he was going to hurt himself. 

I was just never, never enough. I spent so much time trying to be a good partner and give everyone my attention like 100% of the time I neglected my art, my writing - he was jealous of people I made art or wrote for that I wasn’t even with. I had made a lot of strides with my own mental health but I was having immense breakdowns because I could not take it. 

He did not want James and I to get married. He said he would break up with me if we did, even though it made financial / practical sense. (He acknowledged that it did, too, he just did not want it to happen). 

(SIDE STORY: James and I are (legally) married. We have not had a ceremony yet because of -gestures to entire narrative-. My then-wife (Claire) and I had a wedding ceremony years ago but never made it legal. During THAT ceremony, our at the time mutual girlfriend attended the wedding and was very supportive of us and our special day. With Louis, I never asked for that kind of involvement, I never asked him to do anything that made him uncomfortable as far as even acknowledging my marriage to James - in the past Louis and I had even talked about having a ceremony of our own, because I believe in celebrating love and flaunting my partners and parties, of course. I did not really even ask for his support or blessing, it’s just I had had such a positive experience with multiple partners supporting each other in the past that this just like - blew my mind out of the water).

I think the last straw was one night, Louis broke a special mug to use the glass to cut himself. He wanted to kill himself. I went to his house in the middle of the night, I don’t drive so James had to wake up our son and drive me there. James drove home, I calmed Louis down, put him to bed, confiscated the glass so he could not hurt himself again and put it all in a bowl. So I’m standing on the porch, in the cold, shivering and barely verbal with a bowl full of broken, bloody glass - taking an Uber home in the middle of the night. 

It was like that for a while, stuck in a loop of “we are breaking up - now things are okay - no, things are bad again, we are breaking up - things are back to being okay”. I think the last straw was when he broke up with me on New Year’s Eve. I told him “if you break up with me, that’s it, we are broken up. I’m not doing this anymore”. And it was over. For a little while. 

But we still worked together, and feelings were still very raw. I still felt responsible for his mental health. He spent a while avoiding me, he would not talk to me, when he did start talking to me again it was evident that we still had feelings for each other, but maybe he knew I still felt responsible. He would still tell me when he was cutting, when he felt like killing himself. Work was hell for a little while and I felt even more isolated than before. All of my coworkers think he’s great and I knew none of them would believe me if I tried to confide in even one of them what he was putting me through. 

I kept trying to distance myself from him and from the things he was doing and saying. One day he called out of work and said he was going to stay home and kill himself instead. I ended up neglecting my shift to call the police and have them show up at his house to do a wellness check. (NOTE: I do not trust police and was very conflicted about calling them at all, but there wasn’t a lot I could do and he said he had swallowed a whole bottle of pills). After they left he was mad at me. 

Glossing over a lot - but we did not stay broken up long. We got back together only a few months ago. It was an even more difficult, strained relationship this time around (although I’m not saying that no part of it was good, I mean, we genuinely had some good times and some wonderful aspects of the relationship. It just, as always, gets buried underneath the shit. I really LOVE this man, okay, we have something special, but he rakes my mental health over the coals again and again). Because of his (now non-existent) relationship with James, everything that had been bad before was getting amplified. At this point in my life, Claire and I had ended our relationship and become just friends. James and I were together, and I had another long-distance partner (William) who I had dated in the past and recently we had come back together. 

Well, okay, Louis does not really like either William or James. He also does not like it when I casually flirt or send nudes to other people (which I have done my whole life, and have made clear I do, no one comes into a relationship with me ignorant of the fact that I am still in my ho phase and I enjoy recreational flirting and nude exchanges). He wants my nudes to be special for him, he says that knowing other people have seen my boobs makes him sad. 

At this point, it does not matter if we are having a bad night or a good one. We could be cuddling and watching a show and he will just turn to me and tell me that he will be sad when we break up, but we are going to have to break up, because he can’t live like this. I would ask him why we are still together if he wants to break up, and he’s like, he doesn’t WANT to, he just knows we will. (That fucks with me? Understandably, I feel).  He becomes more and more insistent that James and I break up. Louis wants to be my one special partner and wants everyone else to be a casual side piece. (Even though, EVEN THOUGH, he has cried to me many times about feeling insignificant, about feeling like a side piece, about feeling like a mistress - which I have absolutely paid attention to and tried to remedy at eVERY TURN by giving him way more than I think was fair to my other partners). 

Our relationship recently came to a head (again). I have been given the opportunity to move to my hometown (a few hours away) for Cosmetology school. In the beginning, I was not sure of where i was going to be, if I was going alone, or what was going to happen. Louis said he did not think our relationship would survive if I brought James with me. Because my experience talking to him about things as they develop has always been bad (and because our state is in lockdown, I have not been able to see him) I didn’t communicate my plans very well as they developed, and when he heard that James, the baby, and I were all moving together that was kind of it. He asked me “What are you going to do to prevent a breakup?” and I just kind of lost my shit. I was done, so completely done, and exhausted. So I broke it off and haven’t really been texting him. Because if I text him, I get nauseous, and I haven’t been able to sleep in weeks. I’m like, running on four hours of sleep at best most days. His boys will reach out to mine, because he knows my boys are weak and brokenhearted and they will talk even if I won’t. And then he has the audacity to text me, “X is upset at being neglected, but I’ve stopped caring tbh”. And I just feel so fucking godawful all the time. He won’t hesitate to tell me he is cutting, he is going to kill himself, he is drinking all of the time and he won’t stay sober. 

I have told him, multiple times, that I need an equal partner. I need a partner who will support me as much as he expects to be supported. He has told me flat out “I can’t do that”. 

I am ready to leave this city. There is a lot I did not even talk about, but these are, I guess, the major points I replay over and over in my head when I can’t sleep at night. Maybe I am my own worst enemy for perpetuating the cycle. I know there are a lot of points in the past where I could have brought my foot down and maybe stopped it from getting worse, but I’ve felt stuck, I still feel stuck. And I’m always going to feel responsible. Of course, this is all the bad stuff, it doesn’t really talk about all of the GOOD stuff we have. There is lots of good stuff. But I don’t think the good stuff can hold up against all of the messy, toxic shit.  I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong? 

[this-lioness]

Feeling a little overwhelmed.

The kitchen cabinet doors still need to be done.  This is taking a lot of time because they have to dry pretty thoroughly between each coat, and each one needs 3 coats + a light touch-up.  Then we still have to do the edges. This is not helped by the fact that Marc didn’t sand the primer coat before he started painting the first side (which was supposed to be the “front” of the doors), meaning that with each coat of paint on top all the goopy drips and imperfections became more and more obvious.  So now I’m going super slow on the other side so that it will be nice enough to be the display side.  I’m not mad I’m just disappointed.

We have a gala coming up in two weeks, and I still haven’t sat down to design / paint the mask I’m supposed to use, nor put together any of the little details. We are doing a 5k in a couple more weeks that we are only now starting to “train” for.  I’m less stressed about this than it sounds, but it’s still frustrating.

Both of my parents have birthdays coming up, and an anniversary.  And my stepfather really wants to get back out to the lake in time to see the colors in what he personally considers “prime time”, and I don’t know what the fuck he’s really looking for, because yesterday everything looked beautiful to me? And if I take him too soon he’s going to be disappointed, but if I take him too late he’s also going to be disappointed, and my mother is just 100% disappointed with everything 100% of the time.

Marc asked me about five times what I was planning on doing for my Halloween costume until I was finally like, “I’m just going to wear the “candy witch” costume I have up in the closet.  And I think he’s disappointed, because he loves Halloween (so do I!) but I just do not have the bandwidth to come up with and assemble a costume this year, just to stand around and hand out candy to kids, and also it’s going to rain on Halloween. I sense he’s disappointed that I’m not as “into it” as in previous years.

I am excited for the holidays, but can I just express how much I hate the huge pile of empty decor boxes that sits behind the couch for 3+ months until they’re all over?  I fucking hate living around the clutter of holiday decorations PLUS the clutter of the boxes that the decorations are stored in.

We also still haven’t done the photo for our Christmas card this year, and we need to get on that SOON.  Not only does the photo need to be staged, but we need to be sure we have our outfits, and then there is a LOT of digital editing that needs to be done afterwards.  Like a good couple hours, at least.

I also have 4+ design commissions that I haven’t even STARTED on!  And I’m running out of things to tell these people that aren’t, “I PHYSICALLY CANNOT.”

Oh hi, Thanksgiving is also coming up.  His Mom will be coming over the night before, and my mother is pretty much only able to eat liquids and gruel, and then afterwards we like to be “those people” and go out for Black Friday.  I NEED to have the kitchen done before all this.

Because the kitchen and dining room is complete fucking disarray I have not been able to clean the house!  And a messy house is a huge, huge stressor for me.  I was going to try to do laundry yesterday, but the guy was doing the furnace, and so clearly I couldn’t occupy the same space. I am thinking of skipping the gym tonight just so I can put a dent in the huge pile that is accumulating in the bedroom.

Marc has not paired socks in like three weeks?  Despite the fact that he knows this must be done regularly, like every time I do the laundry? But it just keeps piling up and piling up and piling up, and no matter how many times I’m like, “SOCKS????”, he’s just like, “Well, I didn’t know where you put them!” (1. They are in the same place they always are and even if they weren’t   2. You could ask) or the excuse is, “I didn’t know they needed to be done, you should have put them where I can see them? (1.  You are a grown ass man who wears socks EVERY SINGLE DAY AND WE HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR ALMOST FOURTEEN YEARS. YOU ARE FULLY AWARE THAT SOCKS MUST BE PAIRED AND THAT IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY.   2. Last time I put the overflowing box of unpaired socks immediately onto your side of the bed, and you MOVED IT TO THE FLOOR AND BLISSFULLY CONTINUED LIVING A LIFE OF UNPAIRED SOCKS.)

We also have THREE events coming up: an author expo, a Christmas craft fair, and A SECOND Christmas craft fair.  The summer fair at the cemetery was SO GREAT because people bought a ton of stuff, but this means that I need to rebuild my inventory.  And “rebuilding my inventory” isn’t just hopping online and buying shit!  I need to design it, and craft it, and then finish it, and do I have enough materials on hand to do it all?

The garden still has not been put to bed for the year, and I don’t know when the hell we’re going to have the perfect combination of time and weather!

Also, I still have two fucking bags of clothes that I need to stage and photograph so I can post it online!

And I haven’t even S T A R T E D photographing my own jewelry to create an online store!  Nor do I have any idea when I’m going to have the time to do it!

Also, I would like to be able to draw and paint!

Also, I was supposed to write 10k words in September, and I didn’t fucking write ANY, because how??? Even if I can work up the momentum to finish this goddamned book, when the fuck am I supposed to do it?

And Rosie is getting fixed at the end of this month, and Bones needs to go back to the vet for bloodwork next month to make sure his kidneys aren’t failing and he hasn’t lost any more weight.

So yesterday, on the way home from the gym, when I’m like, “I cancelled the second Christmas fair, the one at the school. It’s just too much for me,” and he’s like, “It’s too much? Are you kidding?”

And I swear to God... I swear to God I would take a bullet for this man, I would literally murder people for this man, and he has my whole heart, but I may have never wanted to fucking strangle him so much as I did right then.

JESUS EFFING CHRIST DUDE.  Y’know, I would also like to spend twenty minutes twice a day sitting on the toilet and browsing my phone.  I would really also like to check myself out of all responsibilities every time there’s a football game on TV that I want to watch.  It would be really great to never have to fucking think about HOW EVERYTHING IN OUR LIFE OPERATES ON TIME AND WITHIN BUDGET AND HOW LITERALLY EVERYTHING GETS DONE, except I CAN’T DO THAT.  Last night when we were supposed to be “relaxing” in bed, I sat there sorting through mail so that everything would get paid / done on time, while you sat there scrolling away on your STUPID PHONE THAT I HATE SO MUCH.

He has a bare minimum of responsibilities:

1.  Take the garbage bins to the curb and back again.

2.  Feed the cats (I occasionally help with this)

3.  Do the afternoon litterbox scoop (this frequently gets “forgotten”)

4.  Load / unload the dishwasher, hand-wash anything that cannot go in the machine (this maybe gets done once a week, it frequently goes until the sink is so filled with shit that I cannot prepare meals)

5.  Take the trash out to the bins (this has been known to sit WAY LONGER than it should)

6.  Clean the bathrooms (There are 3 -- 2 full and 1 half. One of the full baths does not need to be regularly cleaned because it’s only there to hold litter boxes, we don’t actually use it.  That leaves 1 full bath and 1 half bath, the latter of which is STRICTLY HIS.)  The bathrooms are cleaned maybe once a month.

7.  Clean the floors (vacuum and mop).  This ONLY gets done when guests are coming over, or when I complain that the floors are disgusting and they REALLY need to get done.  Half the time he will vacuum (and not thoroughly), and then say, “I’m going to hold off on mopping until right before X gets here, that way they’ll be fresh and clean”, and then will conveniently forget to mop at all.

It’s not as if he’s not aware.  We have talked about this.  He FREQUENTLY AND WITH HEARTFELT SELF-DEPRECATION will confess that he is terrible about keeping up the house, and promise that he will get better, and it takes everything in my power to say, “No you won’t. Can I just stop pretending that I believe you when you say that, because you clearly do not actually mean it or, if you do, you have no intention of putting forth the physical and mental ambition to follow through.”

And you know what? I DON’T CARE!  I love my house and I love taking care of it.  I married him knowing these things about him, and he is such a good partner otherwise that I was willing to overlook it, and we laugh about it most of the time and it’s fine. It’s actually fine!  I’m not just saying that!

What gets me -- what borderline made me want to murder him -- was the incredulous, “Really? The second craft fair is too much?” last night, and I think the dark depths of my silence afterwards must have clued him into the fact that he had been a Dumbass Supreme, and he spent a good 20 minutes reminding me how awesome I am.

Yes. Yes, I know I’m fucking awesome.  Sometimes I just want you to be a little fucking awesome too. PLEASE.

[catsofcalifornia]

Endora from Bitten By A Kitten Rescue in Richmond, California

Click here for more information about adoption and other ways to help!

Click here for a link to Bitten By A Kitten Rescue’s main website.

Endora is an extremely sweet ex-mama cat who used to be very feral and afraid of her own shadow. I rescued her and her babies about two years ago when she was only a year old. I have tamed her, consciously and extensively over the last two years, and she's made amazing progress. Now she's come as far as she can come with me and my foster kittens. She simply needs a quiet home of her own with no other felines. I love Endora like my own cat -- ferals are intensely lovable! -- and would love to keep her forever, but she needs a different environment than I can provide, and because of my own situation (I'm facing a very serious illness), I can't possibly promise her a forever home. Endora needs a home with no other pets to compete with her, so that she can fully blossom. Here, every time I go to pet her and she starts to relax, another kitty comes up for a simultaneous pet and Endora gives up and just leaves. She allows any other kitty here, big or small, to steal her food just by poking their head into her bowl. Lately, due to the competition with the more energetic kittens she's become more hesitant and suspicious again. It breaks my heart to see her go backwards even a little, and it's become clear that I can no longer offer her what she perceives of as safe space. Kitten season is going to start soon and there will be even more pesky kittens around the scatter for Endora to get used to. It's time for her to have her own forever home where YOU can have the thrill of helping her become the relaxed kitty she was always meant to be. I don't mean that ironically in any way -- I have enjoyed every single moment of helping 'Dorable feel safer and more relaxed. Now it's your turn. ?

I know there is the purrfect person for Endora out there, someone who understands a semi-feral cat, someone who wants their own single kitty to love and be loved by forever, someone who will be patient and gentle with little Endora, who will in turn be loving and gentle with her person. Endora doesn't have a mean bone in her whole little body. She is just easily frightened or startled and will hide under the bed at any perception of danger. Now, she almost never hides around here anymore. I had to be in the hospital for a couple of days recently and had a pet sitter stay here with the kitties so they wouldn't feel deserted or scared. Endora didn't hide the entire time with Etsuko, the sitter. In fact, she played along with the other kitties and ate in her special place in my bedroom. And Etsuko was a s-t-r-a-n-g-e-r!!! Endora came out into the living room for the first day and watched the goings on without hiding the whole two days I was gone. Miracle! That's what's so fun about taming a feral cat -- it's so awesome when they make a breakthrough. There's nothing else in the world quite like it. Endora has come so far from the terrified little mama cat she was two years ago. She loves it when I pet her and I can even give her a gentle kiss on her little back! I can pick her up when I need to even though she doesn't like it one bit. I can give her a shot and flea treatment now too and she never purposely scratches me. At first I let her outside in my quiet neighborhood so she could get respite from the other foster kitties but lately she's been going outside less and less. I know she could easily become an entirely indoors cat and be very happy, if only she didn't have other kitties around. 'Dorable is very energetic and loves to play; she'll even play now while the others are playing, another breakthrough. Sometimes I play with her alone in my bedroom and she plays like a kitten, with wild abandon. She is only three years old and has been much more playful lately, which is a joy to see. Endora is one of the prettiest tabbies I've ever fostered. She has nice, distinct stripes and the cutest little ear tufts ever right at the tips of her ears. You can see them in some of the pics. She's only about seven pounds and very round and cute in a kittenish way she'll have for her whole life. Warning: she will glare at you if you are doing something she doesn't like, for example, petting the other kitties, but she is never aggressive in any way. She doesn't like to be picked up but she won't scratch you if you do it. Her natural expression is actually wide-eyed and she has lovely bright green eyes that go beautifully with her pretty gray-brown fur. Endora is very smart and knows all versions of her name. She would learn a new name very quickly I'm sure. She knows phrases too, like "Let's eat, 'Dora!" Then she'll follow you to get her little bowl of food or to the door if she wants to go outside. I happen to live in a very, very quiet neighborhood but if I had my way she'd be an indoor only kitty. There is something so very lovable about feral cats that you tame yourself. I believe that Endora will someday be a lap kitty for the right person or people. I don't think she'd do well with kids or other pets but she may surprise me and take to a quiet, patient child. Having prior experience with adult ferals or semi-ferals would be a plus but it's not at all necessary as Endora is an "easy" feral, especially now. All that's really required of you is a big heart, a little patience, a few bags of treats and the time to devote to the queen of the house and the ruler of your heart. In return you will end up with the sweetest, most loyal kitty you can imagine, and the thrill of all the breakthroughs sure to come in the future. I envy you and hope you stay in touch. We usually charge $125 for our kitties but for Endora you can set your own adoption fee. I just want her to have the best possible quiet home with no other pets and no kids. I'd love to have her adopted by a quiet single person or a quiet couple. The idea I have in my head is to give Endo nothing to want to hide from in general. Vacuum cleaners excepted of course. Endora is utd on her vaccines, worming and flea treatment. She has been spayed, tested negative for FIV/FelV, and has always been very healthy. She is purrfect with the litter box and has no bad habits. She has a great instapurr that turns on when she feels safe, which is whenever I pet her here. It might be even more often with you alone.

[hankeliza]

Hate to be cliche, but here goes.

This decade has been some shit. 2010. Best year of my life. I’m 17, I have my soul mate and best friend every single day of my life. No bills and making way too much money. I got the love of my life, Rome. I am so cool in my mind and just life was fucking GREAT. I met corbin that year and I was legit in absolute bliss.

Feb 2012 my best friend moves to fl and that was so great but I am in absolute shambles. I am lost I am unhappy. This is where it all goes wrong and only now, 8 years later do I realize the codependency issues I had with jenna. I fucking loved that chick from the depths of my goddamn soul, we could speak and make decisions and plans with just locking eyes for a blink of a second. So bc I am sad, lost and unable to make sense of my selfish and immature feelings, I take it out on her and a whole slough of klonopin. Corbin and I are doing bad and this is when it should’ve ended.

April 2012 (hah time is funny af) I do some shady shit, but not to the magnitude it was portrayed. Life moves on and I get back with corbin. This is my new person to rely on. I need him bc he stuck thru it with me and gained my whole hearted trust that he loves me, even when ugly and I love him through all of his ugly. We are ugly and we are in love and nothing in the world matters to me anymore besides him.

Oct 2012 I finally am ready to move outta stc. But corbins with me. I beg and beg and beg to please go to Tampa but nah, we go to Miami. It’ll be easier, Adam will take us in. He still is this big mature, always with it guy, I don’t know him, that’s why. We get there, nothing much to even talk about. Great times but eh. Leavin it at that. Shit happens and we get out of dodge like some fuckin thief’s in the night. Drive two days to portland. I won’t get into all the beautiful shit I saw bc that’ll take too long but, here we are.

I live with a naked hippie that is actually psychotic and oh, later on turns out she’s making us pay for a house SHE IS SQUATTING IN. But anyway, things happened (again adam) and we move to the city city. Won’t even get in to the shit that transpired there, but now I’m moving back home.

Feb 2013 (wow really seeing some timelines matching up of my most unpleasant times of my life?!¿¡) so I’m back home. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat. I think I weighed 110 while standing 5’8. My dads on parole, only time I see sunlight is when he needs to meet with his PO. Nicole nurtures me and literally does everything in her power to make me be better, but I am not ready to feel happiness or bond with any other human. I am not ready to move on or up or out. I am stuck. Corbin moves home. Ahhh yes. My safety blanket is back and I can be happy again (hahahah)

So in the meantime while I was sad Nicole and I are partying, late nights to meijer and rite aid, getting high and snacks and shit is just fucking awesome. She meets the love of her life and he takes her and even me in to his whole friend crowd and I am HAPPY and feel bliss again. I have friends? Imagine that. They fall madly in love and then heh, they move. Well shit. Now mind you I have totally capability to see them whenever I please bc Nicole is an open door policy. But truly I’m lazy, I like convenience and still wrapped up in my own stupid bitchass, (that I can now see, but then couldn’t) and it’s back to corbin and I.

So now it’s getting close to end of 2013 and all I pretty much do is spend every waking moment with corbin. I don’t mean to make that sound so awful, then I loved it. Now, it’s all so bleak.

2014 hits. I’m in and out of jobs. Corbin and I live off of pop can returns. I’m still 21 so like, none of that mattered and I didn’t care about a future. He gets a job and I finally get into the courthouse. We start doing ~molly~ heavy. Locking ourselves in a bedroom from Friday-Sunday. Every weekend. When you hear “ecstasy/drugs ruined my sex life” from older people, you don’t really know what to make of that. When I tell you drugs ruined our sex life and our likeness for each other, now I fucking get it. I stopped smoking weed 24/7 bc I was paranoid of losing my job. Not much more to that year or 2015 than chemical pills and being locked in a room and outdoor adventures with my dog.

2016, I finally convince corbin to {for the love of god} attempt to get his license back (which he did, and then ruined again, but that comes later) so we’re really making moves, honestly for us we were doing shit. We had a marker board calendar AND meeting our goals/deadlines !!! His dad gets oxys, and we’ve been borrowing his Vicodin for idk, a year or 3 at this point. This is kinda when things get fuzzy. But oxys come and got damn do they feel good. But only recreational. It wasn’t serious then.

Corbin gets prescribed adderall. Not much more we need to dive in to with that jazz but oxys and addies were all we ate until about the end of 2017. Pills are gone. Let’s fucking driiiiink.

2018

So I developed an alcohol issue at this point. Still battling it to this day. But I don’t really remember much. Did some cool shit, went to Europe. Met a girl that I’ve never loved kissing more. She was nuts. I moved out of our apartment we got together and back home, re-up w/ Rickey, we have fun. He cheats on me with the girl he got pregnant and neglected (they’re engaged now, congrats guys) I’m completely broken and alone because at this point i have managed to push every waking soul away from me and experience the weirdest fucking shit ever that I can only explain as spiritual, or maybe it was satanic. It burned and hurt and scared the ballsacks out of me. Can’t kill your self if you’re a pussy, turns out.

I spent this whole year trying to find friends, wrong crowd. I developed a relationship with a coworker who still to this day has my heart and soul and I love him and will always hope the best. He is the greatest comfort I had but it was only ever from 5pm - until we finished having drinks and sex and then back to being alone. I even confessed my confused love for him and he set me straight. He showed me more about being strong than anyone ever. I love you D.

The end of September I finally meet up with a dude I can’t take my damn eyeballs off for years. I finally mustered up the courage after making excuses for about 2 weeks why I couldnt meet up with him. So I come over. It’s raining so hard. I couldn’t find his house. I just wanted the god damn dick, and go home. He didn’t let that happen.

We see one another mainly every single day except Wednesday’s because he has plans that day every week. I tried my hardest to ghost him multiple times but he didn’t let that happen either. We are both drinking a lot because we are both sad but our company really really reaaaally made up for the sadness. He is the funniest person I’ve ever met and I think he thought that about me too.

November 21st comes and he is being weird and I am constantly nervous around him so I get weird bc I think I did something or he’s gonna tell me to go home, I didn’t know. He finally says he wants to be my man, like full time man. I have a bf? I don’t want one but something about you is fckin freaky you beautiful boy. Everything is coming together.

And here we go: December 21. 1 month is all it took to mess it up.

Leaving my work party, ironically after getting all of my drinks bought for me :) , I go to jail. Jail was not as bad as I expected. I was a good criminal so I got to sit in a different room w/ a tv until shift change. Oh and ! my high school classmate was a worker there so that was neat ! (jesuschrist) anyway; dont have Laynes number memorized, my family and I just watched my grandpa die, gasping for air 10 day prior. Can’t call my mom. Scared to call my dad (who was the nicest of anyone) soooooo corbin it is. I dealt with his jail problems time after time so, his turn I guess.

Welp it’s 2019. Not much to say. Layne stuck through all of it with me and I have no fucking clue why. Got a therapist. Stopped drinking whiskey completely. Bought a vacuum and couch. Live with my way too supportive boyfriend. My family fucking loves him. I am .... growing ? stronger ? mentally ? as every day passes ? because of him ? He teaches me so much about moving on, life and just thinking before doing. Life ain’t that serious. I love you Layne. I completely do. I started alcohol classes and I went in with such a shitty attitude, like I’m better than everyone? (Been my issue for, forever) I fucking love my group sessions. I am for once not alone with the unpopular shit I struggle with. Addiction is so real and I always thought it was a stupid ass excuse for being lazy but hahhhhhh karma loves me.

I’ve been struggling so hard with jenna. I have talked to a handful of people and most have said it’s been blown out of proportion but, don’t hurt your friends. I finally fucking wrapped it up when I got ahold of her, tried to anyway, before Christmas. I explained a lot, now that I’ve had years to sit back and reflect on myself and my bullshit and I can’t blame her (side bar: she still didn’t care lol.) But I am fuckin over it. My feelings got hurt to absolute fuck about some things and instead of being mature, I fucked her over, because I felt fucked over. But I’m sorry, I did that, I take responsibility and best wishes forever but an anvil weight has finally been lifted off my chest and I feel like I can finally move the fuck on and it’s such a great feeling to get rid of something that’s been eating me alive.

So basically, the last two years ate me the fuck alive. This year I meditated on shit. We will see how 2020 goes but I am ready considering what I’ve done to myself, been through and I still am fucking alive and trying. Being a human is dumb but it’s aight sometimes. Getting better. Good luck y’all.

[sunshinykittens-blog]

Not Enough Alcohol in NYC...

Saturday, November 25 the wee hours of the morning. I think.

I would love to go to sleep right now, God knows I have been through enough chaos the past 72 hours to qualify for hazard pay, or at least PTSD treatment. The flights, the usual holiday family drama (not EVEN my family), an empty apartment, snotting all over some Tower residents, new digs…but I probably should start from the beginning…

Wednesday

When last we left our intrepid adventurer (that would be me), it was in an airport, JFK to be exact. I was waiting, along with Sunny and the 3 younger kids, for our flight out to Pasco (via Seattle) to spend the Thanksgiving weekend with her mom and oldest child. My kids weren’t going to be at my family gathering, so no sense in going home, especially since I’m spending an entire week home for Christmas. Besides, Sunny’s mom has been going through some health issues, and I haven’t seen her in forever. Sunny made all the flight arrangements, all I was supposed to do was pack my bag and be ready to go. So something I didn’t know about her before this day, seeing as I had never flown with her before: Sunny is paranoid about missing flights. I realize that this is one of the busiest days for traveling, and that means all the lines for everything would be extra long, but I am still not sure why we had to leave the apartment at 6 am for a 1:30 pm flight. Maybe she thought we’d get caught up in the parade traffic. But since The Man arranged for a car to take us to the airport (and pick us up upon our return Sunday afternoon), we didn’t have to worry about getting a cab or riding the subway (Sunny’s great idea). So yeah, I am grateful to The Man for the car. Amazingly, we checked bags and got through the security lines very quickly. We were through to the gate section of the airport by 10. Even though one of us was chosen for the random search (guess who that was). Luckily I didn’t have any contraband to speak of, so that was pretty smooth, except for them telling me I needed to get my driver’s license updated to my new address when I get back. Yet another thing for me to have to squeeze in before Christmas. Sunny suggested we grab some coffee and lunch while we waited for our plane. Over this meal is when she told me we had another 3 hours before we were scheduled to board. That’s when I made my last post. (BTW, the girl child is an extremely talented artist, I’ll have to post some of her work sometime soon. Oh, and Sunny did manage to catch the loose cannon. When last I saw, all the kids were still alive.)

I will say this, at least Sunny got us first class seats for our flights (yes, I said flights). It was nice, but we were kind of spread out a bit. Which is nothing compared to the connecting flight in Chicago, which was delayed over an hour for mechanical problems, and we got bumped to another plane, and everyone was pretty scattered then. For our final leg from Salt Lake, though, we were in one cluster of seats, thanks to the airline folks feeling bad for us having missed that connecting flight. After they saw how frazzled she was with the middle child, who kept wandering off. But we arrived safely at our destination airport only about 2 hours later than scheduled. Oh yes, and every time we hit an airport with wifi, Sunny would get a gazillion messages from the oldest child asking why we weren’t there. I felt bad for Sunny, so I admit I bought her a drink in Chicago and Salt Lake. And then I paid for a taxi van to drive us from the airport to her mom’s house so we wouldn’t have to wait for a shuttle.

Didn’t take long for the drama to start when we got there, though. There was only one bed in the house, and that belonged to Sunny’s Mom. The oldest hadn’t even put her bed together, so we were all sleeping on the floor. I haven’t done that in I don’t know how long. Mom started in on how worried she’d been and why were we late, and then blaming Sunny for not getting there any sooner (like we can just hijack the plane or something). But like I said before, Mom had recently had some health problems, so I just tried to overlook it and be there to support Sunny. She was going to need it. Then we all stayed up way too late (with far too little alcohol), and finally got to bed at some point after midnight. I whispered to Sunny as we were drifting off that had I known we were going to sleep on the floor, I’d have rented a car and got a hotel room. Or at least rented some rollaway beds.

Thursday, Thanksgiving

Well, this day started entirely too early for a regular day, much less a holiday, even with the extra time we got for being 3 hours later than home time. Mom had said she needed help cooking, and we were fine with that. But she needed to oversee everything and everyone, assuming we had never entered a kitchen before in our lives. By the way, who in their right mind puts an egg into their literal Stovetop Stuffing? Menu was pretty good, very standard: ham (instead of turkey, which was fine with me), stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potato soufflé, rolls, and 2 kinds of pie with whipped cream. It was a store bought kind of meal; everything came out of a box, can, or bag, or was bought ready to serve like the ham. Except the pumpkin pie. The Airport Problem Child made that and did a really good job, if I do say so myself. Which I do. So as soon as everything was cooked, we had to eat – right that second! Dinner conversation included why in the world did Sunny move so far away, why didn’t she tell her mom and oldest before she moved, why didn’t she find a man and settle down, how her mom’s health was (not good and how much worse it was getting every second that Sunny wasn’t caving), how the kids liked school, Sunny works too much, maybe at least she could find a husband in New York, how were my kids doing, and when was she moving back to Washington. We tried deflecting most of that by saying we had good jobs that we liked, we were making really good money at them, and we were about to move into a secure building at the first of next month. After dinner (with an unhealthy side of stress and heartburn), everyone retired for a nap. Except for Sunny. She stayed up to clean. Of course I stayed up with her. And it took every bit of 2 hours to clean. After which, the tree came out.

Sunny is not a Christmas person, she really doesn’t like it at all. She feels it’s entirely over commercialized, which I agree with. Unlike her, I enjoy the holiday season with full gusto. My only complaint is with people who have conniption fits when people break out the Christmas songs before Thanksgiving. I also find these are the same ones who then start complaining that there isn’t enough time in the Christmas season to get everything done that they want to do – starting the day after Thanksgiving. Anyway, Sunny was going to be aggravated with the evening. So first, her mom put on some Christmas station with some really annoying, tacky Christmas music. And let me tell you, that is really saying something coming from me. I love all Christmas music. At least I thought so until that night. I mean nobody liked it. Not even Sunny’s mom! And then the tree, it’s a wonder Sunny hasn’t ground her teeth down to stumps. It’s kind of old, but we couldn’t get her mom to let us run out and buy a new one. And the lights…it’s a wonder they can’t see that thing from space. You know those sort of net-type lights, the kind you drape over the shrubs outside? 5 of them. Draped onto a 6 foot tree. Then we had to add another 15 strings of plain white lights. I tell you, I needed shades when we plugged in the tree. Then the ornaments, a mix of glass, plastic, and handmade kids ornaments, and then those irritating silvery plastic icicles, the kind that clog up the vacuum. Then, just when we were starting to get into the tacky music, Mom changed it to something equally obnoxious.

About an hour later, I was questioning my decision to be there for the whole weekend. Because that’s when the oldest started in on how unfair life was and how hard she has it there. I could tell she was angling to move with us. Allow me to say one thing about the eldest child: Super Social Justice Warrior Snowflake, she’s about as far from me on the spectrum politically, religiously, and socially as you can get. And before we had left New York, Sunny made me promise that I would not start a fight with her. In other words, I’m surprised that I didn’t bite my tongue off in the short time I was exposed to her awake. She went all over the place from one thing to another, but finally I’d had enough. In fact, I don’t even remember what it was she said, or even what I said, only that I finally blew up and smacked her with an opinion that should have given her a heart attack right then and there. But her face welled up and she stormed off to her room, slamming the door shut and sobbing loud enough to be heard in Seattle. I just looked at Sunny and said I needed to get some air. I grabbed my coat and headed out the door. I walked for a good while, too bad I don’t have a fitness tracker because I easily walked 10k steps. I finally got so cold I went back inside (no hot water for a shower, but I’ve come to not expect that), and crashed in the living room with the kids instead of in the eldest child’s room with Sunny. I slept very little, eventually getting up literally at the crack of dawn for another walk.

Friday

Overnight I had come to the conclusion that neither my blood pressure nor Sunny’s family could take me sticking around for the rest of the weekend. As soon as I walked out of the door, I was on my phone with the airlines looking for the first flight out. I agreed to be on standby; even an airport had to be better atmosphere. I called a taxi, and realized everything except for my carry on bag was still in the bedroom where Sunny, the artist, and eldest child were still asleep. I was not about to go in and risk waking the crew. Instead, I tiptoed over the boys and went to the kitchen to leave a note.

“Sunny, Needed to fly back quickly. Can you please bring my suitcase when you come? See you in a couple of days. Call when I get home. Tell your mom thanks for dinner. Kate”

I carefully gathered my few things in the living room and made for the door. The youngest sat up and rubbed his eyes, then asked where I was going. I lied to the boy, told him I was needed at work, and that I’d see him in a few days. He shrugged, nodded, yawned, and went back to sleep.

I sat in the airport for only a couple of hours before I got on a flight to Denver, where I sat for two hours before I got a plane to New York. From JFK, I took a taxi back to the apartment. As I was walking up the three flights to the apartment, all I wanted to do was take a long hot bath, cuddle with my Spazzie, and get a full night’s sleep. I planned to spend the rest of the weekend lounging around and maybe doing some packing for the impending move looming on the horizon. It was about 11 pm. I unlocked the door to my apartment, stepped in, turned on the lights and saw…nothing.

Literally nothing. Every single thing was missing from our apartment. No futon in the living room. No dishes in the cabinets. No towels in the bathroom. And, the horror hit me as I realized, EVEN THE CATS WERE MISSING!!! For the third time since I moved to New York, I was dialing 911 to report a theft. And, bless her heart, Officer Yang came to take the report. I tried to give a pretty good description of what was missing. Her partner went down to the super’s apartment but there was no response. About half past midnight, Jake’s mom came home from her shift and looked in. We found out from her that a group of men had come first thing that morning and had been packing up our stuff. She had assumed that she had misremembered the date of our move. She offered to let me stay in their apartment, but I didn’t relish another night sleeping on the floor. Instead I called a cab as soon as the police left.

I had thought about going to a hotel, but figured they would pretty much be booked solid. I decided the best place for me to go would be to the Tower. I knew there were comfortable looking sofas, at least, and I figured that all the residents were gone for the holiday. Maybe I could convince The Man to hurry up the remodel because we really did have nothing. No sense in buying furniture, moving into the old apartment to just have to move it the following week. I had the taxi drop me off at the Tower, and I stood just outside to make the phone call I was dreading. I had to tell Sunny we had been cleaned out. I got her voicemail, which made some sense to me. It was closing in on 1:30 am, which was 10:30 pm there.  And her mom was always fussing about her being on her phone. I left her a message and promised to call after I got some sleep. Then I went inside.

The night guard was someone I hadn’t met before, but I had my badge so he let me in. The elevator ride up was the longest leg of my journey. I was reviewing all the events in my head and was starting to feel overwhelmed when the doors opened on the 91st floor. I had decided that I was going to have a cup of tea before trying to find a blanket and settling in on the sofa in the lounge. Surely The Man wouldn’t begrudge me that after everything I had been through. I hung up my coat and stashed my carry on in the closet and entered the common area, headed to the stove to heat water in the rarely-used kettle.

Standing at the island were three men. I recognized Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes from news stories I had seen over the years. The other one was unfamiliar to me. They were casually dressed, sweatpants and tees. It appeared they had just come down from the training room, they were slightly sweaty with a healthy glow. Captain Rogers was pouring some post-workout smoothie thing into glasses. I took a deep breath, feeling everything from the past few days welling up behind my eyes, and my nose starting to tingle and burn. I was desperately trying to contain my emotions in front of the people that I was definitely going to be running into in the halls and elevators, residents of the Tower. I was not going to lose control.

They glanced over at me as I came in. Captain Rogers welcomed me, asking if I was one of the housekeepers. I told him I was and then he said he thought we’d be back Sunday evening and where was my partner. I told him that she was still in Washington, and we were supposed to be back Sunday, but I had to leave early. Sergeant Barnes then asked why. And I think that’s where I started to lose that tenuous hold on my emotions. I tried telling them about the disastrous 24 hours that Thanksgiving had been, but I think I became a bit flustered. I don’t think I was making sentences. And then pieces of the past 2 days came spilling out and I absolutely burst into tears. Next thing I knew, I was seated on a stool at the island, Sergeant Barnes was doing his best to awkwardly comfort me with an arm around my shoulders, and the man I didn’t know was pressing a tumbler of some form of alcohol into my hand and demanding that Captain Rogers go find Mr. Stark and bring him up immediately. Before long, hthe Captain had returned with The Man Himself in tow. I will admit, he was concerned to see me sitting there sobbing, and he asked me what was wrong. I lost it again, someone handed me a handkerchief, and after about 5 more minutes, I regained some control. I blew my nose, took a deep breath and started to speak, but when I tossed back half the dark amber liquid, there went my voice.

When it returned, I told him as calmly as I could about the stress at Sunny’s mom’s house, that I just had to leave before really bad things were said, the layovers, the crying babies, coming home to a literally empty apartment, finishing up with the emotional outbursts they had all just experienced, which I assured him was a rare occasion, and could I please have a blanket so I could crash on the sofa. I finished the drink while waiting for the answer. I noticed glares aimed at The Man from the others in the room. And then the Captain threatened to call Miss Potts. Finally The Man said to follow him.

We went down on the elevator together, all four of us. I could almost feel the heat of the glares directed at my boss. This was the second elevator ride I’d had with him that was in complete silence, but somehow I felt like the awkwardness was coming from him this time. The doors opened on the 62nd floor.  I followed The Man down the hall to the door opposite the one he had showed us at the beginning of the week, the others behind me like some sort of guard or something. I now thought that what he was going to do was bring up a bed for me. Maybe this convinced him to complete the remodeling ASAP. But when I stepped into the now opened doorway, I was completely flummoxed. There, inside that room, was my apartment. Complete with cats. Spazzie came racing towards me and I scooped him up cuddling and scratching behind his ears. And I started crying again. I put him down for a minute and asked what the hell was going on.

The Man shrugged and told me he’d figured it would be great if we came back and found everything already moved in. One less thing for us to worry about, as it were. They had gone in, packed everything up and moved it, though they hadn’t known what stuff was mine and what was Sunny’s, so unfortunately we were going to have to go through the boxes ourselves. I was really jet lagged, and it was after 2 in the morning, so it took a little while for everything to sink in. But when it did…

I yelled, I screamed at him, I cried big fat hot mad tears. Sergeant Barnes smirked, thoroughly enjoying every word. Sunny’s cat, Aaron, came into the room and started pawing at me. I scooped him up and continued ranting. And then I realized something was climbing my leg. I looked down to see this cute little gray tabby kitten working its way up. And that was most definitely not my cat. I’d never seen it before. The guys all insisted that it must be ours because it was inside the apartment when they packed it up. And it had a collar. About then I felt all my energy drain from my body. I ordered them out and told them that we would finish this conversation tomorrow. I fell into the bed in the bedroom and pulled a comforter up over me. Spazzie curled up behind my knees, Aaron was behind me, and the kitten sprawled out on the pillow next to me. I’ve got to call Sunny tomorrow to let her know everything is OK and to just come to the Tower as soon as she gets in. But right now I need to sleep.

[ladamedemartel]

✩ - caleb/aurora

The Ultimate Relationship Tag

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? AuroraWho threatens to leave but never actually does? CalebWho actually keeps their word and leaves? Aurora leaves once and then can’t find him again without summoning him to make again to make another dealWho trashes the house? Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Probably AuroraDo either of them get physical? Caleb wouldn’t put a hand on her except to stop her or restrain her; Aurora gets a little physicalHow often do they argue/disagree? Not often.  Who is the first to apologise? Caleb

Sex:

Who is on top? Aurora Who is on the bottom? CalebWho has the strangest desires? They both just really enjoy touch and contact which isn’t all that strangeAny kinks? affection?Who’s dominant in bed? Probably Aurora because Caleb has so many trust issuesIs head ever in the equation? For Aurora to receive hahaIf so, who is better at performing it? Caleb lolEver had sex in public? Once she coaxes Caleb along to get him more comfortable with her Who moans the most? AuroraWho leaves the most marks? AuroraWho screams the loudest? AuroraWho is the more experienced of the two? I guess Aurora?Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? It’s probably more making love that gets rough at timesRough or soft? Depends on how needy they’re feelingHow long do they usually last? getting longerIs protection used? nope!Does it ever get boring? nah lolWhere is the strangest place they’d have sex? coat room at a Strix party

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? nope

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?  They’re both really into it but Aurora is far more open about itWho is the little spoon? AuroraWho gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Caleb is getting more naughty than he used to :)Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  Caleb but he typically succeeds in keeping them there How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?  Aurora is offended by the idea that anyone would move from her before there was a reason to leaveWho gives the most kisses?  Aurora and Caleb appreciates itWhat is their favourite non-sexual activity?  dancingWhere is their favourite place to cuddle? their bed.  technically it’s Caleb’s bed but Aurora decided that now it’s theirsWho is more likely to playfully grope the other? Caleb once he gets very comfortableHow often do they get time to themselves? Not as often as Caleb would like

Sleeping:

Who snores? neither of themDo they share a bed or sleep separately? togetherIf they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? cozy upWho talks in their sleep? They both do.  Caleb has nightmares about hell sometimes and Aurora just has bad dreamsWhat do they wear to bed?  Aurora likes to impress him by wearing pretty things.  Caleb wears nothingAre either of your muses insomniacs?  Caleb has more trouble sleeping than Aurora doesCan sleeping pills be found by the bedside?  Aurora has injectionsDo they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?  Aurora wraps upWho wakes up with bed hair?  Aurora has very beautiful bed hair and no one can tell her otherwiseWho wakes up first? CalebWho prepares breakfast in bed for the other?  Aurora but she has to set an alarm and order it with the chefWhat is their favourite sleeping position?  SpooningWho hogs the sheets?  Aurora lolDo they set an alarm each night?  noCan a television be found in their bedroom?  only if Caleb wants to see it smashedWho has nightmares?  they both doWho has ridiculous dreams? Aurora lmaoWho sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? neither of themWho makes the bed? a maidWhat time is bed time? really early in the morningAny routines/rituals before bed?  Aurora feedsWho’s the grumpiest when they wake up? AURORA

Work:

Who is the busiest?  Caleb since he quasi has a jobWho rakes in the highest income? idk how much is a soul worthAre any of your muses unemployed?  Aurora technicallyWho takes the most sick days?  You can’t take sick days from being a demonWho is more likely to turn up late to work?  Caleb is never late being summoned but def avoids showing up to hellWho sucks up to their boss?  Aurora sucks up to Tristan I guess, Tristan is her boss?What are their jobs? Aurora’s job is to live her life; Caleb has to make deals for people’s soulsWho stresses the most?  Probably CalebDo your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?  Aurora’s fine, Caleb thinks it’s better than being stuck in hellAre your muses financially stable? yes because they don’t need money

Home:

Who does the washing? maidWho takes out the trash? maidWho does the ironing? maidWho does the cooking? cookWho is more likely to burn the house down just trying? probably AuroraWho is messier? lol probably AuroraWho leaves the toilet roll empty? CalebWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? AuroraWho forgets to flush the toilet? ew gross no oneWho is the prankster around the house? neither of themWho loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? probably Aurora tbhWho mows the lawn? a gardenerWho answers the telephone? Aurora, Caleb only answers summonings unless Aurora’s callingWho does the vacuuming?  maidWho does the groceries? cookWho takes the longest to shower?  Aurora lolWho spends the most time in the bathroom?  Aurora because she wants to look pretty

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?  lmao not even a littleHow many cars do they own? idk too manyDo they own their home or do they rent?  Tristan owns itDo they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?near the coastDo they live in the city or in the country? countryDo they enjoy their surroundings?  very much soWhat’s their song? Take me to Church HozierWhat do they do when they’re away from each other? Aurora spends time with Tristan and Caleb has to, you know, go to hell, make deals for souls, fun stuffWhere did they first meet? Middle of a cross roadsHow did they first meet? Aurora summoned himWho spends the most money when out shopping?  Technically Tristan since if Aurora uses money, it’s Tristan’s credit card lolWho’s more likely to flash their assets? Aurora Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?  Aurora it’s funny when Caleb tripsAny mental issues?  If you turned a psychology text book into a dart board and fired an assault riffle at it you probably still wouldn’t cover the whole arrayWho’s terrified of bugs? neither of themWho kills the spiders around the house? probably Aurora because she has a vendetta and is boredTheir favourite place?  their bed because they’re aloneWho pays the bills? TristanDo they have any fears for their future?  Aurora has plans to take him to France and Caleb has plans to protect her from everything alwaysWho’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?  AuroraWho uses up all of the hot water? someone with a death wishWho’s the tallest? CALEBWho’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?  AuroraWho wanders around in their underwear?  Aurora, just to tease himWho sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?  AuroraWhat do they tease each other about?  Aurora teases him about how he’s anti social and he doesn’t tease her because he doesn’tWho is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? lol everyone cringes at Aurora’s fashion senseDo they have mutual friends? Aurora tries to make her friends his friendsWho crushed first? CalebAny alcohol or substance related problems?  probablyWho is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?  Aurora but Caleb is probably holding her upWho swears the most?  Caleb

[nekumiko]

Simple and clean, or so she wished

Fandom: Bangtan Sonyeondan (BTS)

Genre: Fluff

Rated: G

Words: 3, 004

Chapter: 1 | 2

Summary:  In which BTS gets a cleaning lady and they end up a (welcome) distraction. Or is it the other way around?

Prologue: The Cleaning Lady-in-hiding

Rule #1: Stay invisible.

What she has is authorized access to the seven’s official shared living quarters, as well as the right to touch what they had touched, had sat on, had eaten with – and get paid for it.

It’s not much hard work (at least, for a clean freak like her). She just has to vacuum, sweep, wipe down, scrub. Disinfect. Arrange the fridge, cupboards, racks, shelves. Take out the trash. Wash dishes if necessary.  Basically make their dorm unit comfortable, safe, and sanitary to live in, now that they’ve become increasingly busy to do so.

She doesn’t even need to come daily, but just once a week. Though that is even if they’re not in the country these days. Accumulating dust takes no rest.

Most importantly, there exists the privilege that she has yet to make use of: seeing Bangtan Sonyeondan anytime for free. Up close and personal, with no cameras to act for.

And it’s no question now too if the guys themselves even know of her existence. They have been going home to a notably cleaner and carefully tidied up house for months already.  

Only the day itself of the actual meeting of the fan and the fawned over – who practically almost live together what with the way she already knows where every piece of furniture and appliance down to the littlest collectible should go – now awaits.

But that’s exactly why the girl, who prides herself as someone who knows how to respect personal space, had to self-impose rules.

The first, and not to mention the most important of which, is she can’t  see the boys. Much less leave a chance of interaction.

As famous as they could get, they’re still normal human beings who might just be creeped out to meet the person invading and then touching and moving things about in their home.  

Especially since she’s not the usual middle-aged cleaning lady, but a teenager. Youth is known for being pretty aggressive and invasive (and hormonal). Also, modern teenage girls are usually active on the Internet.

What sort of secrets had she already tried uncovering? Or worse, had already found out and revealed? What kind of pictures had she already taken? Questions like these will surely rise.

Then again, she might just be overthinking all this. But can anyone blame her? These people are the closest she could consider as crushes. Of course there’s reason to assume the worst-case scenario.

There have been no actual incidents of damaged and stolen property nor leaked information, though, for she follows the actual restrictions of this job.

Aside from the standard confidentiality agreement she had signed, the bedrooms (where the boys are supposed to keep all of their private belongings, not scattered around) are off-limits, and she’s not obliged to do the laundry too – both of which she’s honestly grateful for. She’s not the kind of fan who would go so far as to intentionally breach into that kind of privacy.

So far, she’d succeeded in avoiding them, never failing to purposely arrive at ten a.m. – assuming they’ve all gone to attend to any appointment they have for the day that late in the morning – and finish up no later than one p.m.

But today, a fine Saturday morning, the lights are on. And laughter can be heard from the inside.

She’s basically frozen outside the door (out of the way, though, so as to keep her silhouette from reflecting  onto the frosted glass) for a few minutes now, the question “Why wasn’t I informed?” on loop in her head at the same time with her reality check.

She’d seen this coming, really. Of course she knows she can’t stay away from them like this forever. Of course she knows it’s more likely for her to cross paths with them while she’s on the job.

It’s just… too soon.

Yes, three months (of getting familiarized with the boys’ personal preferences and scents without them ever catching a single glimpse of her) is still too short a preparation for this confrontation, as she’d dubbed it.

Moreover…

How could I meet them in these clothes? This hair! And bare face!  …Maybe I should  just call in sick? But I won’t get paid for this week!  WHY WASN’T I INFORMED?

She closes her eyes and rests back against the wall.

I cannot do this. Who am I kidding?

Carefully putting down the full set of cleaning materials she’d hauled with her, she brings her phone out to dial her employer – their manager, Sejin.

She’s not really sure of what to say (is she even entitled to know when their off days would be?), but her fingers are faster than her coherent thoughts, and now her phone’s connecting the call.

Just as the laughter grows louder and the door swings open to reveal a face she hadn’t seen up close since middle school, along with his youngest bouncy-haired hyung, both lurching towards her direction as if they’re on a run.

She squeaks in surprise, almost dropping her phone, as she braces herself for a collision that was apparently stopped on instinct by the younger male’s grip on the doorway, effectively stopping their momentum.

A few seconds pass to recover from the shock.

And to let the fact that someone unfamiliar is outside their dorm sink in.

As she steps back nervously, the guys seemed to come back to their senses and jumped back into the threshold.

Well, no. It’s just in the case of the maknae, only accidentally pushing back his confused-turned-curious hyung who had clung onto him, and consequently bumping into whoever’s coming up behind them to nose around.

She would have laughed if the situation was different – say, if she’s not the cause of Jungkook’s terrified expression.

Okay, she gets how surprising this is, but it’s not like she’s an ax murderer. And he actually knows her. Or does he, even?

“You… what are you doing here?” he speaks above the others’ interjections.

Oh. He does. Maybe she just looks horrifyingly ugly. “H-housekeeping…?” she reaches for the abandoned broom, which to her now feels like a weapon that could startle him more.

“Who’s that?” they hear a voice from further inside the house, followed by footsteps drawing closer to the door.

“A friend of Jungkookie we’re surprised to know about?” Taehyung grins at the younger, who then sputters.

“But we aren’t expecting anyone else, ri – oh,” the handsome bare face of the eldest pops by the doorway. He blinks twice before his gaze drops to the rest of her cleaning materials. “I see, so she’s the same person.” He looks behind him. “How come you didn’t tell us you’re friends?”

Jungkook’s eyes grew wider as he holds up his hands defensively. “Believe me, hyung, I don’t know anything about this.”

“But you’re friends?” Hoseok speaks from behind Taehyung.

“Um…” she starts, turning all eyes back to her. “We never really said we are.”

Silence. For a whole ten seconds. Before the guys, except for the maknae now with his mouth hanging open at a loss for words, burst into laughter.

“W-what I mean is, we were only old classmates!” she tries to talk over them. “Never really close enough to be called friends, just seated a few rows from each other and occasionally interacting… oh gosh, that must have been rude…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Namjoon smiles at her. “We get it. And that is actually convenient.”

“Because Jungkookie’s saved from having to awkwardly introduce himself!” Jimin manages to say before bursting into another fit of giggles.

Now she has to smirk at that.

“Hey, now,” she hears Jungkook mutter, so she turns his way just in time to catch him quickly looking away from her.

“Please,” Seokjin calls for her attention as the laughter dies down, opening the door wider and stepping to the side, “come in. You’re our guest today.”

“Guest?” She shakes her head. “Oh no, I’m here to work!”

Seokjin briefly looks at the other members, who only stare back at him. “Well, if you insist. But you would have to come in anyway, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry.” Then it suddenly clicks. “But how do you seem to know about me coming here today?”

“The manager – hey, wait,” Seokjin points to her phone in her hand, its screen still lit up, a contact name familiar to all of them on display, “don’t you need to take that call?”

For days, she’d been relying on her phone to check the time, all the while lamenting over the wristwatch she thought she’d lost but is now sitting on a table in the Bangtan dorm.

What happened to Rule #1?

After the call confirming that the members do expect her arrival (“They were really surprised to find an unfamiliar watch in their dorm. But instead of asking me to return it, they thought it’s high time they could meet you and thank you for all your hard work. Such good boys, huh?”), she was ushered into the living room of the seven (yes, Yoongi had opted for just a short nap today – or at least wait until all pleasantries are said and done, and then he could go back to bed) beautiful people now crowding around her.

It had only been a dream to see them up close, but those dreams have been set in fanmeets she’d been wishing to actually get the time to go to. In those, she’d be hyped up by fellow fans she would’ve been surrounded with, so she would’ve felt bold enough to properly look at and talk to these guys, considering they don’t know her identity as their cleaning lady.

But no, here she is completely alone, dressed in an unflattering way, with her self-proclaimed issue of being a supposed creep resurfacing. The cleaning materials she could be holding onto now for an attempt at emotional stability are placed by the door by one of the boys while she was on the phone.

“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks.

Cautiously, she looks up. “Y-yes, just… still in shock, is all.”

“Well, the manager did forget to tell you he agreed to this day.”

Forget. Hah. For all she knew, this could be an early birthday prank. She had heard the laugh in his tone. “It’s okay. I understand that he is busy too,” she tries to smile, but has to look down again. “He also said that we could just think of this as a… special fan meet?”

“Yeah, since you’re the only fan today!” Hoseok replies with a sunshine-bright smile. “We’re all yours~”

It’s cute that the rest nodded almost at the same time, most of them flashing grins.

She could just faint.

But that’s not how they’re supposed to be acting towards me. They shouldn’t even be acting today. They shouldn’t be forced to be nice, she thinks as she fidgets with her fingers on her lap.

“W-wow, yeah. But aren’t you even weirded out by all this? Someone as young as me… invading your personal space?”

Misunderstanding their lack of reaction as her fears of being misjudged coming true, the nerves build up again as she continues in a manner so rushed it could rival their rapping (kidding). “Oh no, I mean, I swear I have only ever been to the kitchen, dining room, and living room. I’ve never gone nor even peeked at the bedrooms, nor touched the laundry, and I never meant to see,” – two to three pairs of, well, innerwear – “some stuff strewn around the place.“

At that, some visibly blush while some cough.

Realizing everything she just said, she lowers her head in shame. You just dug your own grave!

“Relax,” Namjoon says after a beat, and she looks up to see his shy but kind smile. “We’ve been briefed about the specifics of your job.” He puts a hand behind his neck. “Although it was a week after you started that we found out we have a teenager for a cleaning lady. So, sorry about the… stuff. They weren’t intentionally left out, just fell out of the pile of freshly-laundered clothes.”

“Oh. I-I see.” That explains why she only saw those once, thankfully.

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “So I guess we’ve never met you until now because of that?”

She nods, “I was… afraid I’d come off as a sasaeng because of my age. That you would think I took this job just to… well…” she trails off, eyes again cast downward.

“You aren’t a sasaeng, that much we know. You wouldn’t be here now if you are, right? What with breach of contract.”

She mouths an ‘oh’ before nodding. “Y-yes, you’re correct.”

“Then, we’re good,” their leader smiles reassuringly, to which she returned with a shy one of her own.

Curse overthinking tendencies.

“So she’s not the one who took—“

“Ya, don’t make bad jokes like that,” Seokjin lightly hits Taehyung’s arm as her eyes widened.

“But she’s as cute as how Jungkookie gets around girls!” Jimin flashes his eye-smile at her and then at the maknae, who glares back at him. “Going back, it’s really alright. It could’ve been a worse situation, like having bad blood with Jungkook.”

“Please stop, hyung.”

“Why don’t you say something, then? Comforting words from someone familiar could be the finishing touch.”

It seems like everyone else agrees, as they all look at him expectantly.

It takes a few seconds for the panicked Jungkook before he could raise his eyes towards her, clear his throat, and smile. “Look, there’s nothing to worry about. We don’t bite! My hyungs are really nice, take my word for it. And, um,” the smile quivers, “I’m here, so you could… talk to me anytime. If you feel like it. It’s okay. You don’t have to overthink. And welcome to our dorm, I guess.”

She wants to squeal. “Okay, I’ll take you up on that. Thank you,” she says with a now-relaxed smile, her shoulders visibly losing their tension.

“Aww, that’s our ever-dependable Jungkookie!” Hoseok pats – rather unintentionally hard – the  youngest’s back.

Namjoon takes over once again. “Then maybe we could start over with proper introductions?”

“Ah, you’re right.” She states her full name. “I am a niece of your manager’s friend, and I was hand-picked based on my uncle’s recommendation… and maybe because I’m former classmates with Jungkook-ssi… plus I just moved in the area and I was in need of a part-time job.”

“I guess you really aren’t close,” Taehyung mutters to Jungkook.

“I guess you really aren’t friends,” Jimin pats the youngest’s shoulder.

“This joke is getting old, hyung,” Jungkook playfully shakes them off.

“Stop it, now,” Seokjin looks at them, effectively wiping off the ‘95-liners’ grins in an instant.

“Alright,” Namjoon once more steers the conversation back on track. “Though you might already know us…” He proceeds to list off their names starting with himself and then by age on accident, which to him is just a matter of proximity.

She giggles.

“Oh?” Hoseok grins at her again. “What’s got you laughing now?”

“It just sounded like you’re doing a fan chant.”

The members look at each other and chuckle at the realization.

She keeps her smile as she bows. “It’s nice to meet you.” She raises her head to see their synchronized bows back, much to her amusement.

“Well then,” Seokjin says, “now that all that’s over with, let’s proceed to fulfilling today’s mission: thanking you! Seriously, today should’ve been a day off for you too.”

Here he goes again. But before she could even say a word of protest…

“Then, have you eaten?”

Because leave it to Seokjin to bring up food anytime. And to keep you from ignoring his wishes. With a discreet sigh, she answers, “Yes. I always make sure to eat breakfast before work. Which usually starts at…” She reaches for her watch on the table, which shows it’s 10 quarter in the morning, making her purse her lips, “10 a.m.”

“Okay, then it’s lunch for you.”

She nods, because as if there’s still a way out of this anyway, and also since refusing any more would be really rude already. “Alright. Thank you, I guess. No, I mean, thank you already!” She sighs and collects herself for a few seconds, “May I get started, then?”

“Sure,” Hoseok beams at her. “We would even help you out!”

“No, no way! You can’t!”

Her sudden vigorous shaking of her head and hands in denial, and the rise in her tone of voice as she almost stands up from her seat, surprises the seven.

Realizing this, she feigns clearing her throat. “I mean, it would be like cheating my work, if I let others clean with me. I hope you understand.”

“Well,” Yoongi speaks for the first time, “that is fine by me.”

“Hyung!”

“Yoongi-ah!”

“What?” he shrugs. “The kid is trying to make a living, so who are we to hinder her from following her life principles or whatever?”

The members shake their heads while she giggles again. “Thank you. On that note, I do have one important request.”

“What is it?” Namjoon asks.

“I would like to kindly ask you all to stay off the areas I need to clean. Or more like, to please stay in your rooms? I promise I won’t take long… and I would clean the kitchen first.”

The remaining rules she made up would not even be worth mentioning if the first one hadn’t been violated.

It wasn’t a bad experience, though. (She even scored a meal made by Kim Seokjin himself, and dined with them, at that.) It had just involved a lot of mental stress on her part.

But now that she is finally acquainted with the boys, and though she does not want to assume that they might try harder to time their rest days with her days at the dorm, she now deems it more important than ever to observe these.

Yet, whether they intend for her to or not, she might just be bound to break her own rules.

Next: Helping Hand

[sanguisfulgur]

✩ - jerkshipping

The Ultimate Relationship Tag, Send ‘✩’ for the following:

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Neither really, but prob. Shar. Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither.Who actually keeps their word and leaves? WELL SHAR HAS TWICE. Who trashes the house? Neither. Do either of them get physical? Absolutely not.How often do they argue/disagree? Not often really anymore. Who is the first to apologise? Three Eye

Sex:

Who is on top? Well they’re both very dominant so they switch it up, usually decided through ‘play fighting’.Who is on the bottom? See above.Who has the strangest desires? I’m going to see Three Eye purely because of how damn old he is. Any kinks? OOH BOY. Too many to list but bondage is the main one. Who’s dominant in bed? BOTH.Is head ever in the equation? YupIf so, who is better at performing it? Well I’d say Three Eye but Shar is reluctant to be on the receiving end of oral for some reason so she is be default. Ever had sex in public? Well not PUBLIC public, but definitely someone someone could’ve come along *cough* the woods Who moans the most? SharnaWho leaves the most marks? Let’s call this a tie.Who screams the loudest? SharnaWho is the more experienced of the two? Three EyeDo they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Make love, but you’d be forgiven for thinking it was just fucking. Rough or soft? Both, but more often than not it’s rough. How long do they usually last? Depends on the night, also depends on if one o their kids wakes up pff. Is protection used? No but they should consider it since they’re like rabbits. Does it ever get boring? Definitely not. Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Does on the damn forest floor count? 

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? They already have babies. If so, how many children do your muses want/have? Three Eye has Julius and Selena from Ruth. Then together they have Jasmine and Matthew with Isabelle on the way and Emily and Jacob planned. THAT’S FOR THE FIRST CENTURY. Who is the favorite parent? Jasmine and Emily love them both equally. Matthew is a mommy’s boy, Isabelle is a daddy’s irl and Jacob is… He’s Jacob. Who is the authoritative parent? Three EyeWho is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? SharnaWho lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? SHARNAWho turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? BOTHWho goes to parent teacher interviews? BothWho changes the diapers? Both, though Shar does so very cautiously b/c vampire senseof smell.Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? They take turns,except in the case of Matthew and Isabelle where it’s usually Sharna or Three Eye respectively. Who spends the most time with the children? They both spend a lot of time with them, but probably Sharna slightly more so just because of how much work Three Eye has to do. Who packs their lunch boxes? Three EyeWho gives their children ‘the talk’? Three Eye tackles the boys, Sharna the girls. Who cleans up after the kids? BothWho worries the most? BOTH Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? UNCLE CAVAN

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both of them.Who is the little spoon? SharnaWho gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? SharnaWho struggles to keep their hands to themself?  BOTHHow long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? All night unless it’s red hot then Sharna nopes out. Who gives the most kisses? I don’t know they’re both pretty liberal with the kisses. What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Going for walks :3Where is their favourite place to cuddle? BeeedWho is more likely to playfully grope the other? SHARNAHow often do they get time to themselves? Pretty frequently after the talks they’ve had to make times for one another. 

Sleeping:

Who snores? Neither?If both do, who snores the loudest? N/ADo they share a bed or sleep separately? Same bed.If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Snuggled up, again unless it’s really hot. Who talks in their sleep? SharnaWhat do they wear to bed? Post-babies they usually remember to cover up after se so, at least underwear. Shar usually throws on an over-sized t-shirt too. Are either of your muses insomniacs? Not really but they’re both light sleepers. Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nope.Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Tangled babies.Who wakes up with bed hair? Both but Shar’s is worse. Who wakes up first? Three EyeWho prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Three Eye because unless Shar’s grabbing breakfast from a bakery, she is not making any food for anyone. What is their favourite sleeping position? Sharna likes to nuzzle into the crook of Three Eye’s neck so whatever position allows her to do that is good, Who hogs the sheets? SharnaDo they set an alarm each night? You don’t need alarms when you have a pack of children. Can a television be found in their bedroom? Nope.Who has nightmares? Both though Three Eye rarely dreams in general. Who has ridiculous dreams? SharnaWho sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Neither but Shar has damn long legs that are all over the place unintentionally. Who makes the bed? Three EyeWhat time is bed time? Whenever, though Shar probably goes a little later than Three Eye some nights. Any routines/rituals before bed? Aside from checking on their babies just the usual stuff: bathroom, maybe reading… sex pff.Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? SHARNA

Work:

Who is the busiest? Three Eye Who rakes in the highest income? Three EyeAre any of your muses unemployed? Well I mean Sharna isn’t technically employed SOWho takes the most sick days? Three Eye is his own boss and so is Sharna and neither gets sick generally. Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Neither.Who sucks up to their boss? N/AWhat are their jobs? Three Eye moonlights as a lawyer but he has his fingers in so many damn pies. Sharna works with him and as a hunter. Who stresses the most? Three EyeDo your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Well never really likes the toll Shar’s hunting takes on her. Are your muses financially stable? Yes. Though if they weren’t together Sharna wouldn’t be. 

Home:

Who does the washing? SharnaWho takes out the trash? Honestly I imagine a reation usually does.Who does the ironing? Shar tries but she usually burns herself and Three Eye takes over. Who does the cooking? Three Eye for just them but Megan cooks the most in the Manor.Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? SHARNAWho is messier? They’re both very neat, so. Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Neither.Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Neither unless they’re in the middle o se omg.Who forgets to flush the toilet? NeitherWho is the prankster around the house? SHARNAWho loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Neither but I can imagine someone taking them to dick with them omg. Who mows the lawn? No one is going to try tackling the Manor’s overgrown grass.Who answers the telephone? Three EyeWho does the vacuuming? Shar, with headphones in. Who does the groceries? BothWho takes the longest to shower? SharnaWho spends the most time in the bathroom? Shar

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? NopeHow many cars do they own? Three Eye has a car annnd Shar has a motorcycle. Do they own their home or do they rent? Well I don’t think you could say anyone ‘owns’ the Manor but it’s obviously not rented either. Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? WHO THE HELL KNOWS WHERE THE MANOR REALLY IS. Do they live in the city or in the country? SAME AS ABOVE.Do they enjoy their surroundings? Yes.What’s their song? They have a whole playlist but one is The Devil’s Backbone by The Civil WarsWhat do they do when they’re away from each other? I never get this question because like??? They do what most people do, couples exist without the other around lol. So they work, play with their kids, read, shop, play video games (Shar’s case), just do whatever they gotta. Where did they first meet? Street at night. How did they first meet? Sharna was inured, Three Eye tried to help and she wasn’t having any o it, so he BIT HIS OWN ARM to force her into feeding to heal.  Was not a pleasant meeting. Who spends the most money when out shopping? Three EyeWho’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither. PLEASE SHOW OFF YOUR LEGS, SHAR. Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Sharna because she’s a child.Any mental issues? So damn many. Shar specifically has Paranoid Personality Disorder. Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither just in general, but Sharna has a severe phobia of cockroaches. Who kills the spiders around the house? Neither, the spiders are left to go about their business and are only moved i they’re in the sink/bath, bed or generally in the way. Their favourite place? The woooods.Who pays the bills? I’m going to say neither because honestly I do not think Three Eye has bills. Do they have any fears for their future? Other than losing each other or their children? Not really.Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Three Eye. Who uses up all of the hot water? SharnaWho’s the tallest? Three Eye BY AN INCH. Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Honestly either of them is equally likely. Who wanders around in their underwear? Neither outside their room. Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Sharna.What do they tease each other about? EVERYTHING. Though Sharna usually teases Three Eye about his age pff.Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither really. Although they both wish the other would dress down/dress up more. Do they have mutual friends? Well the Creations are more like family so *shrug* Who crushed first? WELL THREE EYE MADE THE FIRST MOVE BECAUSE SHARNA IS STUBBORN. But she prob. did first. Any alcohol or substance related problems? NopeWho is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Sharna though it’s not something that happens often.Who swears the most? Sharna, but never in front of her kids. 

[cdrforea]

Ecovacs Deebot 960 Review: So Much Wasted Potential

New Post has been published on https://bestedevices.com/ecovacs-deebot-960-review-so-much-wasted-potential.html

Ecovacs Deebot 960 Review: So Much Wasted Potential

"While the Deebot 960 has impressive AI and a mop function, its potential is not being exploited."

Great pull

Don't eat socks

App is not reliable

Connecting to the app is difficult

Dust container is small

Features don't work well

We love many of the other intelligent robotic vacuum cleaners that Ecovacs has released. A few even made our best robot vacuum on the annual list. So I was pretty excited to try it out Deebot 960. It comes with advanced AI and it even wipes, so it sounded like a vacuum that our best-of list could do with the others. After trying it out, I was deeply disappointed.

The app

First, let's talk about the app. The Ecovacs Home app was the most aggravating app I've ever dealt with. As with most smart devices, you need to connect them to an app before you can use them with the app. Typically, this is a quick process that takes a few minutes at most. Not with the Ecovacs Home app.

It tends not to find your Deebot. Therefore, you need to go through a number of troubleshooting steps for it to work. Some of these steps include accessing the Wi-Fi settings on your phone and selecting the Deebot from the list.

If that doesn't work, you will need to try turning off the data on your phone, at least 5 feet from your router (or getting closer depending on the direction) and turning the bot on and off at the charging station. Pressing different buttons on the Deebot and so on.

After trying the various troubleshooting tips for the app and support pages on the website for hours, a customer service representative gave me an eleven-step process to try to get the app up and running. Yes, it didn't work either.

The app tends to stop working for no reason.

If you get the bot to connect to the app, you won't get too excited. The app tends to stop working for no reason. Then you have to delete the app from your phone and start over.

I thought I might have a problematic deebot right now, but a look at the app's reviews on the Google Play Store shows that these issues are common. (I contacted Ecovac to check for an update to fix the app issues, but I haven't received a response yet.)

Mapping

This intelligent robotic vacuum cleaner offers many great functions. They just don't seem to work very well. The main feature is the ability to map your entire home using AIVI technology. The problem with this is that you have to scan your whole house. There is no way to create separate maps for each room.

If you choose to create just a map of your bedroom (like me), the vacuum cleaner won't clean any other room. While mapping your house, you need to have plenty of light in every room and leave the house with all your pets so that the Deebot can create an accurate map. I just jumped on the bed and stayed there while it was pictured, but most people don't have that luxury.

However, it avoided the sock I threw in front of it, so that's something.

AIVI is supposed to scan the room so the Deebot can avoid objects that are too large to absorb, but the little bot didn't seem to know at times that it had this technology. It would ram into furniture legs with a force that set my teeth on the edge. It got caught on cords and I had to keep pulling things out of my grip. Deebot even came across its own charging station. However, it avoided the sock I threw in front of it, so that's something. It also didn't try to get under furniture where it would get stuck.

It has a feature that you can use the app to block certain areas on the cleaning card to tell the bot where to stop cleaning. Unfortunately, it didn't work that well. Sure, the Deebot won't go where you set up the non-clean area, but the app doesn't let me set up a non-clean area within 10 feet of the charging station. We have found that the Neato Botvac D6 works much better when it comes to restricted areas and avoiding obstacles.

You can also instruct the Deebot to clean only certain areas to get good stain cleaning. Like the other features, this was frustrating. I often tapped the screen to set up a spot cleaning area and nothing happened. After about a dozen taps on the screen, the square would finally appear on the screen and I could adjust its size and position.

In the following screenshots you can see how the Deebot maps areas. The green box is a spot clean. The red boxes are not clean areas. The lines are the paths that the vacuum has taken to clean the room. As you can see, the bot can be unpredictable and even miss spots.

Vacuuming

While Deebot does a great job at corners, backing it up and vacuuming it several times to make sure the area is clean, it still seems silly to an intelligent vacuum cleaner. However, the suction power is great. It actually sucks enough to fluff the carpet fibers over time, giving the floor the satisfactory vacuum lines like a post. When it comes to noise, the carpet is a bit noisy. It distracts quite a bit on hardwood and linoleum.

Alina Bradford / Digital Trends

My biggest complaint about the functionality of the vacuum cleaner is that the bot doesn't tell you when its dust container is full. It just keeps running throughout the cleaning cycle and fluffing lint around on the floor until it finds it's done and returns to the charger.

In addition, the dust container is tiny because it takes up space for the wiping equipment, so you have to empty it several times during a cleaning cycle. It is not very practical. The Deebot really needs to be able to dispose of its own container like the iRobot Roomba s9 Plus. The s9 Plus can empty its own container up to 30 times in a special waste container without having to touch anything.

One feature I really like is that there is a small tool next to the dust container that you can use to clean and unravel the roller. When you're done, the tool snaps back into a small slot so it won't get lost.

Wipe

While wiping seems to be an obvious and necessary function for an intelligent robotic vacuum cleaner, I feel like it didn't save me any time. Instead of filling a bucket, I had to fill the Deebot's reservoir and attach his little wipe. It also took ages to do a job that I would have done with a manual mop in less than 5 minutes.

Then I had to drain the dirty water out of the bot and clean and dry the wipe pad. In my opinion, this feature is not useful for any robotic vacuum cleaner unless it can self-clean like the new Narwal T10 that we saw at CES 2020.

Our opinion

The Ecovacs Deebot 960 seems to be a great idea that just didn't work. Though annoying like a champion, its features simply have too many problems to make it a good choice over so many other great intelligent robotic vacuum cleaners on the market. While the wipe function appears to be a great addition, it doesn't save you time. Overall, the Deebot 960 is a missed opportunity to be something very special.

Are there any better alternatives?

Although it has good suction power, it quickly fills up with dirt and doesn't tell you that it needs to be emptied. For this reason alone, I would probably use the Neato Botvac D6 or the iRobot Roomba s9 Plus. $ 1,150 is also far too high for what the 960 has to offer.

Will it take?

Ecovac generally makes well-designed robotic vacuum cleaners, and the Deebot 960 is no exception. It is made of very thick plastic with a metal plate that spans the top of the device. It seems like it will take a long time. It comes with a 1 year limited warranty.

Should I buy it?

The Deevac 960 has a lot of potential, but is insufficient in many ways. I would not recommend buying one. Even if you overlook the crazy problems connecting to the app, the features don't work as well as they should.

Editor's recommendations

[kingcriccket]

impulse variability, chapter 2

Chapter 1

Ao3

There is a knock at Lydia’s door, just after finals have ended. She’s having a movie night with her mother; Pitch Perfect, and Lydia is maybe a little wine-tipsy, and her mom keeps sighing over Anna Kendrick and saying, some women have all the luck! How is she allowed to be beautiful and have a voice like that ?

And Lydia agrees. She imagines she finds Anna Kendrick beautiful in just the same way her mother does. Objective.

Lydia’s always been very good at objective.

It is the low point at the end of act two, some sad slow song playing over a montage of people being lonely, and Lydia is reaching for her wine glass when there is that knock, at her front door.

“I’ll get it,” Lydia says, and her mom says,

“Mhm.”

Lydia looks through the peephole, first. It’s been a quiet few months, but she’s been feeling unsettled, in this vague sort of way, and so maybe, instinctively, she knows that trouble is on its way.

It turns out, trouble is. Though not quite the trouble Lydia was imagining. Not banshee-instincts trouble.

Instead, Malia is there on her doorstep, a tote bag clutched to her chest. Her eyes are fluorescent blue.

Lydia opens the door. “Malia?”

“The full moon,” Malia says. The sun is starting to set behind her; one of those slow, late, summer sunsets, turning the shadows long. “I forgot about it.” She shuffles from foot to foot. “Well? Can I come in?”

Lydia glances over her shoulder. Her mother is pouring another glass of wine, not paying them the slightest attention.

“I’m going upstairs, alright?” Lydia calls, and her mom says, again,

“Mhm.”

Malia squirms.

“ Upstairs ?” She says. “Don’t you have a basement?”

Lydia blinks. “No. What house has a basement, in California?”

“Stiles does.”

The night is fast approaching. Lydia looks up at the sky, bruised purple, and shakes her head. “Well, I don’t. So you can come upstairs, or you can go get Stiles.” She thinks she sees the impression of the moon, low on the horizon. “I could give you a ride, if you promise not to rip up the backseat.”

“Upstairs it is,” Malia says, and pushes past Lydia. Her feet are loud, on the stairs, and Lydia finds herself smiling, as she re-locks the door, without quite meaning to.

No promises about the back seat, then.

“Which one is your bedroom?”

"Oh no--" Lydia says. "Guest bedroom. I'm not explaining claw marks in my sheets."

Malia shrugs-- she's moving like stop motion with the middle frames yanked out, jerky and too-fast. All agitation. "Whatever," she says, and does sort of an abortive spin in the hallway. "Then which one is the guest bedroom?"

Lydia grabs her by the hand and yanks her to the end of the hall-- the bedroom door, once opened, lets out this waft of dust-smell, and Lydia can't think the last time they used this room, but now here she is, werecoyote in tow, so. That's life for you.

Malia wrinkles her nose up, and she says, "smells like the library," in nowhere near the fond way most people talk about library-smell.

The blue's gone out of her eyes, though, mostly, left behind that dark-and-deep brown Lydia likes so much. That's progress. Forward motion. Lydia tugs her inside, shuts the door behind them, and that makes Malia's hand tighten around Lydia's, nearly painful, knuckles bunching up against each other.

"Okay?" Lydia says.

"Mm," says Malia, but there's nearly a growl to it, and Lydia looks back at the door. Oh. She's cut off Malia's exits. If Lydia was a coyote-- Hell, even if she was just Lydia , in an unfamiliar house, she'd like to have an escape route, just in case.

"Door stays closed," she tells Malia. "But I can open the window."

Malia takes a breath deep through her nose. Nods her head towards the window. “Fine.”

"Malia."

" What ?"

"My hand?"

Malia looks down, at where she has a vice-grip on Lydia. Looks back up with that familiar frown-line between her eyebrows, and slowly- slowly- lets go.

Lydia flexes the stiffness out of her hand. Opens the window.

There's this strange, not-nerves feeling in her chest, some cousin of fear, and Lydia would blame it on banshee stuff but she really feels more-or-less in control.

Malia sits carefully on the edge of the bed. Her hands are knotted on her knees, fingertips curled under like Lydia's familiar with, by now. Hiding her claws.

Lydia sits, gingerly, next to her. Reaches over and starts to uncurl Malia's fingers-- weird how normal this has started to seem. Malia's been touchy since she stopped being feral, but Lydia never really has been. Not with most people, anyway.

Malia bares those needle-sharp teeth, but her hand relaxes. Her claws are bloody, nearly to the nail bed, and Lydia tries to tug her hand palm-up but it's like trying to flip a car, for as much as Malia allows herself to be budged. She has her head turned away, and in profile Lydia can see this long line of tension, from the clamped square of her jaw and down the tendons of her neck, this long muscle standing out. (the Sternocleidomastoid , thinks the scaly part of Lydia's brain that has never once forgotten anything it's learned).

"Okay," she says. "So. What happens next?"

Malia's hand tries to re-curl, and Lydia squeezes, gentle-- no grip Malia couldn't break, if she tried even a little bit. She's not looking at Malia's face, anymore, her neck, but their hands, linked up on Malia's thigh, and Malia's blood this surprise of colour in the beige room, wet-red where it's smeared up over Lydia's knuckle.

"I don't know," Malia says. "We wait?"

Lydia looks back up at her; the deep, concentrated frown-line between her eyebrows, the bead of blood welling up where she's gnawing on her lip.

Red's a good colour on her, Lydia thinks, and, God , and then decidedly stops looking at Malia's mouth.

"If we do that," she says, staring down away from their hands, down at the tasteful cream of the EZ-Vacuum carpet where it dents around her feet, "what are the odds of you ripping apart my guest room?"

Lydia hears Malia's deep breath. "Pretty good," she says, strangled. Lydia doesn't have to look out the window to know that night's stolen onto them properly, now. That the moon's bright-round-silver in the sky, overhead. The street lights come on, one-by-one, an eerie click-click-click down the street.

Lydia can feel the coyote bunching up under Malia’s skin, all this restless energy with nowhere to go, but she’s not Banshee-nervous. She’s not even regular-nervous, really, and if she trusts anything , it’s her fucking instincts.

Malia's leg bounces up and down so hard her heel manages to make a noise, slamming against the floor, even through the carpet. Restless , Lydia thinks, again, and then this thought comes up in her like lightning, and she drops Malia's hand.

"You always tear up the place?" She says, and Malia nods, all her muscles tensed, her mouth clamped shut, fur bristling out past her hairline, coyote-silver. And Lydia says, "then get out of my house."

Malia swivels to look at Lydia, her eyes flaring up blue, and she says, " what? " Through a mouthful of teeth, grisly.

"I’m leaving too," Lydia says. "Chase me. Come on."

Malia's breath comes up in her chest, harsh, and Lydia recognizes an unsuccessful attempt at square breathing when she hears it.

"I'll," Malia grits out, " kill you."

"No,” Lydia says, and stands. "You won't. Wait here until you hear a horn, okay?"

Malia growls. Her fingers come unlinked from Lydia’s, and then she’s clutching the bedsheet with both hands, knotted up on either side of her thigh.

“Okay?”

Malia nods, tension through her like a piano-wire. The photographic memory part of Lydia looks at Malia’s hands, all bunched up in the bedsheets. The muscles of her forearms standing out firm. The photographic part of Lydia goes, hmm, and files the image away for later. She takes Malia's bag, and leaves her there in the guest room, with the dust and the soothing beige walls.

Lydia slips out the front door-- doesn't stop to put on a jacket, just jams her feet into flip-flops and revels in that crystal-clear feeling, when she's got a plan and knows just how it'll unfold, when everything lines up in front of her and she thinks, oh, of course , the whole world opening up for her to see.

Her mother does not even look up from the couch.

Lydia hops into her car, starts it up, and lays on the horn.

A moment-- a moment , later, there is the sound of clattering slate, and shingles tumble down from the roof as Malia, coyote-shaped, launches herself from the window to the roof to the road, her mouth open and panting, white teeth bared and red tongue lolling.

Lydia steps on the gas.

Saturday is--

Nice.

Stiles picks Lydia up in the Jeep and he’s in a button-up, nice jeans, like-- he still looks like Stiles , too-big clothes and a nervy smile, but he’s really-- he’s trying.

Lydia dresses up, too, but when doesn’t she?

The jeep’s cab is thick with this cologne Stiles must be wearing. It’s strong, but it’s not unpleasant. Nothing about their date is unpleasant. Stiles talks a mile a minute for the first little while, doesn’t even touch his drink, until Lydia puts her hand on his elbow and says,

“Stiles. Breathe.”

He does. Shuddery, loud , like he actually hasn’t taken a breath since he sat down.

It’s a nice cafe. Outside of their usual stomping grounds.

Something different , Stiles had said, like he knew, somehow, how restless Lydia has been. How she’s been craving a change. The cafe’s little AC unit churns and sputters-- the day is hot outside, thick California summer, and the both of them are sweating, a little.

Lydia can feel it sticking her hair to the back of her neck, to her forehead, beading up under her makeup, and she looks at Stiles-- who is trying to take a drink, but the lid is turned sideways, and so he’s just got his lip fixed on unbroken plastic. Trying to drink without an opening. And he’d notice, except he’s looking at her, at Lydia , like there’s no one else in the whole world, for all her sweat and sticky hair.

It’s something in his eyes. A-- a reverence , that makes Lydia’s insides feel as sticky as her skin. Queasy sort of. She doesn’t hate herself-- she never has, but he gets that look on his face, and she thinks, God, why me ?

It’s a lot to hold on to, the way he looks at her. Like she fills up his whole fucking world .

“Stiles,” Lydia says. “You’re-- drinking from the wrong side.”

He looks down. “Oh! I mean, I know.”

She laughs.

He puts down the cup. “I u-h- don’t really like tea anyway.”

“I know,” Lydia says. She does. She knows everything about him, it feels like-- Stiles and the rest of the pack, they’re all she sees, most days. She’s not Stiles-level worried about leaving it behind, but that sort of friendship, of family--

It’s a lot to think about losing.

“But uh, you know-- coffee gives you bad breath. So.” He’s not looking at her, his hands chafing the tops of his thighs. Nervous tick. Stiles has about twenty nervous ticks Lydia’s seen, and she’s sure some more on the side.

“Right,” She says, and remembers how to flirt. Like Banshee-intuition, this instinct that says, do this, and here’s what will happen . The if/then statement of her social life. She leans an elbow forward on the table. Says, “Well, you’ve always been good at planning ahead.”

Stiles licks his lips- another nervous tick, make that 21- and laughs. “Yep. That’s me, the uh. Plan guy.”

“Mhm.” Lydia smiles. “It’s good to have you back. We missed you-- you should have seen the schemes we came up with, when you were gone. Couldn't hold a candle.”

Stiles smiles, all soppy, and that’s hard to look at, too. That’s a lot to manage. “I missed you too. Uh-- I mean, all of you, but also. You.”

Lydia folds one leg over the other, so her foot brushes Stiles’s calf, and she takes a sip of her coffee.

She’s not worried about bad breath. She brought mints. She’s a planner, too.

And they do end up kissing, and it’s nice, and Stiles drives her home and drops her off at her place, and when he’s at the end of the driveway he turns around. “This is weird,” he says, and Lydia’s gut drops through the topsoil, right down to where nothing grows.

“It is?’ She says. (It is. It is colossally weird, it’s fucking Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, it’s sideshow weird, here, look, leer, but she’d thought he didn’t think so, that he thought it was all normal, and maybe she’s not hiding it as well as she thought. That this isn’t working out the way it should, that she wants to like him-- that she does, that she loves him, but when he looks at her the way he looks at her she just feels--)

“Yeah,” Stile says. “We already know each other so well, right? I mean, I can do the first date thing if you want, of course! I love the-- um. First date thing. but it seems a little, uh, redundant, doesn’t it?”

Oh.

Oh, that kind of weird. “You can come in,” Lydia says. “If you want.”

Stiles’s eyes almost bug out of his head.

“ Just-- for a movie.”

“I could do a movie,” he says, and comes back up the walk.

She snags his hand, on the way past, and he bends in towards her with just the slightest pressure. He’s a good kisser, really-- lips a little dry, chapped, but it’s nice, kissing Stiles. Comfortable. His hand is warm, when it comes up to cup the back of her neck.

Stiles falls asleep on the opposite end of the couch from her, knees tented up over Lydia’s legs. Maybe he should have ordered that coffee, after all. Some forgettable action movie is playing on the TV, the billionth super-hero movie they’d both missed in theatres, and Lydia looks down at him, all slack in sleep.

His socks are mismatched-- all the effort to dress nice, and he’d not bothered with matching socks. Relaxed like this, Stiles looks as young as he is. As they all are, still soft around the eyes and mouth. Lydia lays her arms, carefully, overtop of his knees.

Fondness nearly overwhelms her. Rises up in her, tidal, and she looks down at Stiles’s slack mouth, his shirt tucked in a little twisted, and it swamps her.

It could be this easy, all the time. None of the pressure, the side-show feeling, just them on a couch, and wouldn’t that be nice . There’s a reason things felt so strange, when he was forgotten. Stiles is this part of her life vital as a kidney; he’s unglamorous, maybe, but God she needs him.

Stiles gives this sleepy, ticklish horse-twitch and Lydia lifts her arms back away. Doesn’t want to wake him. Disturb this thing between them, that gets more and more fragile the closer they get.

It feels inevitable. Something does. She can’t even articulate what anymore, just feels something barrelling towards her, 90 down the highway, and here she is. Stock-still. Watching it come.

Did you know hitting a deer at speed can get you killed? Not just the deer but the driver?

When Lydia was 6, and her parents were still together, her mom took out a deer by the legs, and it bashed in the front windshield of their little VW bug.

The buck’s antler came an inch away from making Lydia’s dad a single parent. Got her mom in the throat but missed anything vital- A miracle , the EMT said, like there was such a thing in Beacon Hills. Lydia still has a scar at her hairline where she bashed her head against the seat in front of her.

“ Fucking thing! ” her dad had said, but Lydia sort of gets it. It isn’t her style, really, but she gets trying to take them out with you, if you have to go.

If it was her, though, she thinks she’d just be a bump under the wheels. Leaping into the windshield feels very loud. Lydia’s always fell apart so quiet no one even noticed. She’s very good at it, actually.

On the night of the full moon, Lydia takes them out of town. Down side-streets and off-roads without much traffic, places no one’d see her speeding with a coyote keeping pace behind.

Like, it’s Beacon Hills, right, but at least try to hide the freaky stuff.

Malia starts to lag behind when the road’s turned to gravel, out in the boonies, and Lydia slows down.

It’s a cool night, cotton-swab clouds racked up behind the dark of the pines, that blue-cheese moon hanging low in the sky. The sort of pretty night you can never take a good picture of-- just comes out black with a white dot for the moon.

Lydia eases her foot off the gas, just rolls down the road. It’s so quiet she can hear Malia’s footsteps, the crunch-crunch rhythm of her paws on the gravel.

They come to a stop where the road narrows and lifts up into the hills that become the mountains, if you go far enough along. Lydia rolls down the window. “You going to try and eat me?” she says.

Malia, still coyote, flops to a seat, and her mouth hangs all the way open. Her breath fogs out into the night. Her sides heave, ribs pressing out against the fur.

Lydia takes a deep breath, too. That dusty smell, when a rain’s coming overdue. The green of the redwoods, miles off. She wonders what Malia can smell, half-animal even at the best times, and looks back down.

Malia looks up at her, eyes gleaming full-moon bright, the white of her fur red with road-dust.

When she catches her breath, Lydia rolls up the window, and she keeps driving. Feeling, even now, just that little bit out of control.

“Do you not indicate your turns?” Lydia says, and Stiles looks over at her, sitting in the passenger seat.

“What?”

“The last turn. You didn’t indicate.” She feels immediately like a Grandma, saying it, like, oh, she's a backseat driver now, too? But Stiles just smiles.

“Oh! Yeah, if you indicate left-side turns, the signal gets stuck.” Stiles pats the steering wheel, fondly, and a bit of old leather falls off into his lap. “There’s no one else out here, anyway.”

He’s right-- There isn’t. It's just the two of them, driving through the morning of Beacon Hills, early enough the fog’s not burned off. Stile’s phone is propped on the glovebox, and they’ve been listening to podcasts mostly in silence. Something weird and sci-fi masquerading as meditation tapes, found-footage, and Lydia catches Stiles breathing in rhythm when the narrator tells you to.

It makes her heart hurt , in some strange way- not bad but sore, this person in her life who she loves, who’s been coaxed through so many panic attacks he listens, automatically, when someone tells him, now breathe in through your nose .

It’s funny. Stiles usually isn’t a morning person, but he’d texted her, and he’d gone, Kira recommended me a podcast-- before, and do you wanna hang out and listen to it? She didn’t ask why he was up so early. Just says, “Hey, how are you?” When they meet, and makes eye contact. So he knows she means it. How are you?

He says ‘alright’. And they all are. They’re alright. They’re getting there, anyway.

“You’re right, though.” Stiles says, a few blocks later.

“Hmm?”

“The turn signal. I should get it fixed.”

“ Really ?” Lydia can’t help but saying. Get it fixed . Not ‘stick some duct tape on it and call it a day.’ Get it fixed.

“I’m-” he says. “Thinking of giving it to Scott, so.”

And Lydia looks at him, and then can’t watch the complicated places his expression is going-- God he’s easy to read, to her. Just wide-open, all the time. Lydia turns away. Watches the fog drape itself over the street, the halo it makes around the street-lamps.

Forgiveness is important, the podcast tells them. Breathe in, and out.

Lydia and Stiles breathe, in perfect time.

Anyway. Lydia finishes listening to the first season with Stiles, and then she goes home and devours the second season on her own. It’s a bit weird for her taste, really. She’s more of a non-fiction podcast person. But it turns out that a story about a woman trapped in a strange facility, and subject to stranger experiments, strikes a bit of a chord with her.

Go figure .

(it is also- maybe- that the podcast is about two women, and they are in love, and they maybe never get together, but they are in love and it’s) (Well, it is what it is. No need to read into it).

Anyway. The second season turns out to be about an art museum. Not a lot of content out there for her ‘former prisoner at a shady hospital and current fretter about the state of basically every relationship’ niche.

The museum stuff is-- ok. Lydia doesn’t think she’ll listen to the third season.

When the dawn finally breaks, it’s near on six in the morning, and Lydia is gummy-tired, her eyes and mouth all dry, her ankle cramped from pressing on the gas so long. She pulls over right there, right where she is, on the shoulder of some gravel road in even-more-the-middle-of-nowhere then they usually are, in Beacon Hills.

The low sun draws all the shadows out, long, and between them is this thick golden light, like syrup, like the sun’s warmth and light is liquid, is pouring down over them. Lydia puts the car in park. Kills the ignition.

Malia catches up, a moment later, and then is standing in the middle of the road, naked as anything, that sweet-gold light catching in her hair and gilding all the silvery traces of her scars.

“Brought your overnight bag,” Lydia says. "In the trunk." She’s seen Malia naked too many times to be really phased by it anymore.

Malia yawns so huge Lydia sees her molars, and she stalks around to the back of the car. Her hands and feet are dusty to the joints- knees and elbows, respectively, streaked red and gray from the long run, and Lydia wonders if they did something bad, dragging her out of the woods and into their town. If maybe she’d be better off if they’d left her.

The car dips, as the trunk opens, is slammed back shut.

Malia comes around to the passenger side, leggings on, and she’s pulling at her hoodie’s zipper as she walks. Her fingers move stiff and clumsy, and when she opens the door to climb in, Lydia reaches across to zip it up for her.

“Thanks,” Malia says, through another yawn. Her skin is shockingly warm, even through the fabric. Lydia drops her hands away.

“No problem,” she says.

Malia cracks her neck. Pushes her seat all the way back, and then she turns and looks at Lydia. “What the fuck,” she complains.

“What?”

“What was that? ”

“You didn’t eat me,” Lydia points out, and takes a moment, as she does sometimes, to take stock of how strange her life has become. How normal it feels. You didn’t eat me, so congrats on that, and also, do you wanna stop and grab some breakfast on the way back? I saw a diner on the drive out that looked fantastic .

“ Yeah, ” Malia says, “But-” and then she yawns, again, and says, “No. I’m too tired to argue. Wake me up when we get back, I’ll yell at you then.”

Lydia feels her mouth crimp up to one side. Can't help it. “Sure,” she says, and just like that, right there, Malia curls sideways on her seat and goes to sleep.

Lydia gets about a mile before the night catches up with her, too, and the car’s warm-- the low angle of the sun sends it straight through the windows, greenhouse, and Lydia’s eyes drift shut exactly once before she pulls over again. She kills the engine. Looks over at Malia, snoring a little, her hair tangled and thick with dust.

Lydia unclips her seatbelt and then, without really meaning to, pushes a strand of hair back away from Malia’s eyes. Realizes what she’s doing and shakes it off, reclines her seat, and lies back to take a nap.

She thinks, there’s no way I’m falling asleep like this, the sun streaming through the windshield into her eyes, and the next moment Malia’s got her by the shoulder, and is rattling her awake.

“Hey,” she says, harsh and loud the way her voice is. Lydia’s stopped taking it like being yelled at-- coyotes don't really do volume control, she supposes. It's not something Malia learned, either.

Lydia stretches and about three of her joints pop at once. “What time is it?” She still feels tired, sort of vague, like the hard edge has been sanded off the world.

“I dunno. I'm starving, though.”

Lydia smiles-- can't help it. “I saw a diner on the drive out,” she says. “Looked fantastic.”

Malia scowls at her. “Why are you smiling like that?” She says.