#work's been mental and i've been trying to buy furniture

[hidefdoritos]

So, for Christmas break, I've been staying with a very considerate older couple. When I got here, I found out that they're also...comfortably wealthy. I wish I could have been live-blogging my stay here, but this summary post will have to suffice.

MOSS'S MUSINGS: HOUSEGUEST EDITION.

-Ask which dishes you are allowed to use. I didn't know this would even be a question--I grew up with one set of dishes--but it matters. The dishes we've been using are red with snowmen on them. Tonight I put my soup in a red bowl with Christmas trees around the edge. That was wrong and bad. I have been told that they "prefer I not use that" because it is "for special occasions," and was told to "set it aside so I can hand-wash it." Side note, rich people also own things that can't go in the dishwasher. Thankfully they told me about this ahead of time.

-In general, they make requests when they mean to give you instructions. "I'm having some ladies over tonight, so if you'd like to clean the bathroom, that would be fine." = I, Moss, need to clean the bathroom before I leave for work this morning. They're secret instructions--instructions in a suggestion-shaped suit. I like to think of it as a secret code that I'm very smart for solving. It helps me to not tear my hair out.

-House thing that shook me to the core: They have heat vents on the floors under the sinks! So you can wash your hands or wash dishes and your feets don't get cold!

-Speaking of heat: heated mattress pads exist! It's like a heating pad for your whole body. High settings are nice for muscle aches; low settings are so cozy to sleep on.

-Speaking of mattresses: The guest room has a Sleep Number mattress. I think it's a scam. It's a balloon under your mattress to adjust the firmness/softness. I am 240 lbs. If it isn't over half inflated, my butt's on the bedframe.

-They are weird about trash. All food waste is handled separately and taken straight to the bin in the garage so it doesn't smell. The kitchen trash can lid has a motion sensor. It's automatic. Scared the daylights out of me when I first walked past it to get water at night.

-Speaking of water, ask what water you should use. Tap is not acceptable to some! My hosts have a fridge dispenser. Unfortunately it dispenses cold water. I have worked around this by getting water in advance of my needs and letting it change toward room temp. Also, you can't put drinks on the furniture! Wood is different from the plastic-coated OSB furniture that I grew up with. I must remember now to use coasters because any spills or drips can leave white marks.

-When they start discussing money, try not to let your mouth drop open at the amount of zeroes. One host bought a new car and was bragging to me about how he only paid $28,000, and that was actually $5,000 off for having a certain type of credit card. I just worked the mental math for the discount percentage to keep my brain from exploding. $5k is more than I paid for my entire car. My family motto is "Buy used and drive it 'til the wheels fall off." I did not say so.

-Most importantly, they've been extremely kind and generous to me. They dropped my rent for the month down to almost nothing. They bought any groceries I expressed interest in. I'm going back to campus with some of the best homemade soup of my life, and a coupon for an oil change, and a new appreciation for dark chocolate almonds. When I got here, my hostess had set up a desk for my sewing machine in her sewing room (!! a whole room for sewing!!) and taught me to use a rotary cutter and an iron that's entirely too complex.

tl;dr rich-ish people are super weird about some things you wouldn't expect, and your head will explode a few times, but they're still people and my overall experience has been great.



[a-b-riddle]

Pen Pals Chapter Two: Confessions

We never really spoke over the phone that much after that. We still messaged constantly through text or via messenger. C made honest on his promise of financially supporting me. It was more money than I knew what to do with to be honest. I was constantly asking him what to do with it. I mentioned I had no furniture.

Why don't you get some? You should have more than enough in your account by now.

Can I?

Of course. You don't have to ask permission before making a big purchase, sweetheart.

Okay. Do you mind if I send you some pics? I've never had to buy furniture and I would like your opinion.

Of course. 

With that I went to work. I ordered most of my things from Ikea, but the one thing I got, which was stupid, but something I always wanted was a velvet chesterfield sofa. I sent C a couple of color options and asked which one he liked.

Blue. It's my favorite color and goes with just about anything.

So I ordered it. It came almost a week later and was the last thing I needed to really make my apartment feel like home. 

It looks good. Good job, gorgeous. 

I felt so proud of his approval. I did feel guilty about spending so much money on a couch, but he liked it and he was paying the bill for it.

A few months passed before I finally got the interview for Stark Industries lined up and C was less than pleased about it. 

It has nothing to do with your area of study. The whole point of me taking care of you was so that you could wait out a position at a university.

I understand that, but it's been months and it doesn't look like things are going to open up in time for me to start teaching in the fall. 

You're back tracking. I don't think you should just give up and settle on whatever job you can get. 

For some reason that struck a nerve. I wasn't giving up, but things happen. The entire world has been put on pause and who knows when life would return to normal. 

Nowhere is hiring and I need a job. I have been cooped up in this apartment for months and I can't take it anymore. At this point I don't care if it's in retail. My mental health can't take being alone and inside like this anymore. The only social interaction I get is either talking to you or going to the grocery story. I have been in the city for months and I haven't made a single friend. I understand your concern, but it's not your decision to make. I will eventually get there, but this is something I want to do. I appreciate all of your help, but as I said, it's not your decision to make.

I turned the messenger offline.

A few days had passed with nothing from C. However, when Friday rolled around, money was still deposited into my account. Maybe it was automated and it accidentally posted. This had been the longest we went without communicating since the start of our little arrangement. 

After a few glasses of liquid courage, I called him. It was late in the evening, way past my normal bedtime, but I wanted to talk to him. At least to let him know about the deposit.

"Hello?" He answered. His voice was scratchy and slow.

"What are you doing?" I asked stupidly.

"I am trying to sleep considering it is nearly 2 A.M." I heard him groan. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted you to know the money got posted to my account." I swallowed. "I was wondering if you had venmo or something and I could send it back.

"Why would I want you to send it back?"

"Because I got a job and you don't approve."

"You don't have the job yet, you have an interview." He corrected.

"And because I don't think I was nice."

"Nice?"

"With how I spoke to you. Or 'typed' I guess." I huffed and laid down on the couch. "I shouldn't have caught an attitude like that. I'm sorry. You've been a saving grace these last few months and I really appreciate everything you've done for me." I finished off the glass of sweet moscato.

"It's okay." He reassured me. "I understand you probably are sick of staying inside, but I just want you to be safe and not settle." God, how was he so perfect?

"I got to thinking." I felt warmth of the wine start to get to my cheeks. "You know, we have been friends for like five years and I have no clue what you like and you know what I look like and you know I like you? Isn't that stupid? Like I have no clue what you look like and I like a stranger I've never met."

"You sound drunk." He chuckled. 

"I've had a couple of glasses of wine," I admitted. "But I'm not just saying that because I've had a few glasses of wine. And like I'm kind of glad I haven't seen you. I mean you're this person I can't even envision and you know that now you know where I live and I don't know."

"What are you trying to say? That it makes you uncomfortable that I know your address?"

"No, it's like..." The words embarrassed me as they came out of my mouth. "I don't want to say like aroused, but.. I don't know." I fell against the bed. "It's something that I think about sometimes." He was quiet and I felt like I had said something wrong. "I'm sorry that was too much. I shouldn't have called. I'm sorry, go back to sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow." And with that I hung up the phone. 

That was too much. Oh my god why did I say that? Did I seriously just tell him I thought it was hot that I didn't know what he looked like? Shit shit shit.

I got up and put my empty glass of wine in the sink, promising to unload the dishwasher when I didn't feel so lightheaded.

Suddenly, from across the room, my phone began to ring. It was him.

"Tell me what exactly you think about, Princess."

[graylinesspam]

So there's a post on here, a quite popular one, that likens mental and physical recovery to cleaning a trashed house. I always liked that post, the way it describes recovery as a process that gets easier with practice but doesn't ever really become simpler, It made things i was confused about some much clearer to me.

That post helped me specifically understand because I had so much experience cleaning barely habitable houses. For most of my childhood I was tasked with cleaning jobs that were far outside of a normal 5-15 year old's skill set.

The actual post will say it a lot better than I can here but something about the process of starting at the entryway and working you're way in, learning new techniques, buying new tools, but ultimately accepting that with every room you clean, you will have to drag the mess through the rest of the house and end up getting all the clean places dirty again. That resonated with me.

Some backstory, I grew up with young and broke parents. Many of my early living conditions were filthy apartments and half-renovated farm sheds. I was cleaning almost as soon as I could walk. I had to learn fast. As I got older and our homes improved but it was because my father worked all the time and was almost never home, and when he was he was working side hustles. My mother was a bedridden depressed woman for many years. I had to learn to clean up after an adult's depression nest and myself and my own sister's mess.

I wasn't totally alone in it. My father, for all his absence, was practically a dream housewife when he was around. He could cook and clean and do repairs all at the same time in a horrible overstressed whirlwind. I had to pay attention in order to learn, but more than that I had to keep up with his pace. Just eight years old and tiny and underfoot, trying to learn the cleaning patterns of a grown man in a full tilt adhd hyperfocus cleaning session.

But I did learn. I learned to keep the clutter out of sight, To scrub away the worst of it. I learned to make games out of cleaning to get any help from my sister. Learned how to make throwing trash in the can from a stepstool several feet away into a competitive sport. I learned how to bribe her, and how to pace her, an episode of her favorite show for half a rack of dishes. I learned how to make ramen just the way she liked and trade it for a toybox filled up.

I even got not one but two full time jobs as a house keeper.

But that was before I had started to deal with serious health problems. Now I'm too sick to work. I struggle with making sure I just get up in the mornings and contribute something to the household. Part of my mind is stuck in a shame loop of becoming my mother and the other is preoccupied with the knowledge that my life has gone absolutely nowhere.

This fucking house has become my whole world the same way it always did in the summers when I stopped going to school and mom stopped getting out of bed. Every day I wake up and I do the work. Some days are harder than others. Some days I can even muster up some pride for what I do. It's been two godamn years and I'm finally getting to some of the deeper stuff. I got rid of the broken recliner. Mom is finally ready to throw out her dead uncle's stuff so there's more clutter I can clear away.

Every day I clean the same mess and some days I do impressive things like burning all the wood in the yard.

And it does look good. There's so much less clutter, and I've redecorated. Moved the furniture. Fixed up the yard.

But the carpet is still disgusting. It will never stop reeking of dog. And the floors coming apart and the dishwasher is slowly sinking into the floor and I know in my core that this place is decrepit and no amount of cleaning will make it livable in the long run.

And I don't really know how that became such an apt description of my life but it is. Because I've spent all my life knowing that I'd have to maintain my own mind, I knew how bad that your head could get, I've seen it. But my body is failing on me now too and I don't know how much cleaning you can do on a house if the ceiling is splitting and the floors are falling through.

[thavron]

So a little update for you. Things have gone to shit very very fast. He has demanded that I move out. He gave me ten days to pack up my things and go. I negotiated him to end of the month which is three weeks. He keeps saying that it is my choice to go, but when I try and suggest other solutions he shuts me down and tells me his mother (who is our landlord) won't let me stay here. He's essentially evicting me. My brother doesn't have the space for me to bring any furniture or anything like that, so I'm leaving 9 years worth of accrued stuff behind. My brother, bless him, says its just stuff and not to fret about it, but I feel like at some point I'm going to have to start again on my own, and I'm supposed to just trust that my husband will make me whole when it comes to that?

I've know something has been up with him for weeks. He blows hot and cold, has been secretive, constantly on the phone to someone, but wont tell me who. He makes excuses to go out more or less every night. Every time I have broached it with him, he says it's nothing, or he's stressed at work. There are times I felt he was upset with me, and I asked him if I had done something wrong, and he always reassured me that it wasn't me. So now it turns out it was me, but he still won't tell me what, and he expects me to trust him when he is fucking me over so hard, that he won't do that again in the future.

It doesn't seem fair that I have to shoulder all of this, especially when I don't feel like I have done anything wrong. I am not a confrontational person, we don't argue often and never aggressively. I don't abuse him mentally, physically or financially. He has his own money, time and space to do what he wants. We do fun things together regularly, cinema trips, gigs, trips to different cities. It was just a few weeks back we were in Cardiff, looking at houses and making plans to buy. He was happy then, and enthusiastic about the idea. I don't understand where all this has come from. I'm so confused, and hurt.

My friend says he's having a midlife crisis, but when I leave he will stay in our house, with our stuff, and our cat (he won't let me take the cat) and nothing will be different for him except that I won't be here. You'd think if he was experiencing that sort of issue, he would want to go someone knew and start over. I feel so broken, I don't know what to do.

I spent this weekend with my brother. He showed me around town, and we had some fun. I met his partner and her children for the first time. We played giant hungry hippos and checked out the swimming pool. It's a lovely place, with seaside vibes, i think I could be happy there, but I wish my husband was coming too.

[owls-aesthetic-corner]

I had to use Sunday mainly as a chore day :(

I've been putting it off for too long anyway. I need to do the rest of my unpacking because I still haven't finished finding places and putting away everything from moving day. I know I know it's bad. I've been really busy with school work and trying to balance everything and I my mental health Has been so all over the place. Like my anxiety has been pretty bad lately and I've been kind of just trying to cope with that and all of my assignments. But! Today is the day that I'm gonna try and actually fix that. I can feel full dining over the horizon the very subtle color changes of the leaves - and I had hot apple cider last night. Fall feels real so my seasonal depression is very very slowly seeing itself out the door like an unwanted guest. Now I have to piece myself I together and get on with my life and enjoy it finally. I'm excited for the city of the Hills festival that's coming up this week and next week is the Hades town trip. I'm so excited for that you don't even know. hades town is my favorite musical like ever and I've never been to New York City or to see you like a Broadway production live. I am like skiing inside I'm so excited. But I have work to do before then.

So today on the list:

dishes

make the bed

finish putting away and finding homes for the furniture.

optimize the layout and organize

make my schoolwork plan for the week

organize my closet

organize the blue shelf

organize my food stuff and dishes better

I accomplished most of the things on yesterday's to-do list. I still need to figure out what I'm doing with the wall decorations and lights. Hopefully after I sort those out, I can start trying to get more filming done and finally launch my Youtube channel. I've been dreaming of starting one for a while, but I'm not sure what genre I want to be in. I'm definitely going more aesthetic and ASMR based. I told myself I won't buy equipment until I'm sure this is something I'll go through with, so everything will be shot on my iPhone.

[kakaostories3]

This post is ALL OVER the place. And it's long. I haven't blogged in a hot one lol

I'm not sure why I've been infrequent with journaling here. It was always a habit for me to let things out on an online diary in some form. Maybe just not having as much free time as I used to, and the free time is being spent watching TV or something. My thoughts are constantly racing. Side note, i missed a first appointment online with a therapist and they're charging me for it. I could sense the bitterness in how they canceled every subsequent appointment they scheduled me for the rest of the year. Lol. It's such bullshit but I'm paying that shit off when I get paid Friday. Anyway~ It's a miracle I manage to get some sleep at night because mentally my mind is all over the place.

I don't know if I ever wrote here that I moved to Mission Valley, but the move is now 100% complete except for a couple of reports to change my address. My new building is such a nice place and the neighbors are so friendly in comparison to my old crappy apartment downtown. Speaking of which - I threw away over half of what I had in that place, donated the large furniture, threw out that old nasty mattress. The corporate overlords charged me a fucking arm/leg though for the move-out fee. Fuck them. I will never rent anything again from UDR, ever. Especially when a ton of units are being rented out as airbnbs. When I had the apartment cleaned I realized how dirty it was including the floors and crown moldings on the floor. I neglected that place for two years. When my joke of a marriage started falling apart - less than a year into it.

My bf moved in with me a few weeks ago and it is the absolute BEST thing to have happened to me all year. Matt is such a sweet person and my life is honestly much better with him by my side. He is such a big help around my new place, financially and with the chores. Laundry is constantly being done, he cooks and cleans. I didn't hesitate to offer him to move in, I just knew he was going to be a good housemate. He is so loving and kind to me, I feel like the only other person who has surpassed this kindness is my mom. I'm so happy and ecstatic lately. Our home is minimal right now but it's the coziest I've ever felt. I'm trying very hard to keep our home clean so that every single spot in this little apartment is a place where either of us and the dog can feel comfortable. I'm more selective in the type of things I buy and push myself to splurge a little more in things that align with my taste in style, rather than settle for cheap shit. I got a big comfy couch from of my best friends in the world and it makes me want to be in the living room forever! We still don't have a bedframe (I ragequit assembling one I bought from Amazon ugh). Gonna probably just buy a dining table - a legit, sturdy one and not a cheap small one like I had before.

Work is going great lately. I've been thinking of applying to another unit since it's been SO damn busy at my current unit. I get drained after each shift and working a few days in a row takes a lot out of me. When I was getting used to my birth control pill my mood was absolutely terrible and I felt bad because it showed at work. These past few months have been much better though!

This is my sign to blog more often. This was a big ass post.

[thedivinecalamity]

Holy shit have I had a week.

So early morning on the 13th I lost power, and It was below like 15 degrees outside. I was in my house for around 2-3 days. The first day it was too windy to setup the outdoor gas camp stove, We have a fireplace but tbh we've discovered it doesn't heat up the room that much, so nothing hot to eat/drink really. On the third day we we're very close to running out of firewood, had a ton of layers on but we're still freezing our asses off. And then of CO2 detector went off cause it was low on battery but we didn't know at the time if we could actually have a carbon monoxide poisoning risk cause of the fire and possibly a break in our furnace. Turned out to be false but was still fucking scary to deal with when we had literally nowhere else to go. Just being in a house wondering if you're poisoning yourself since outside is a literal blizzard.

We try to find a hotel but everywhere is without power and the roads are covered in ice. The next day we do find one, but could only find a no pets allowed one. I am not leaving my cockatiel and two budgies to freeze to death in our house, this is an emergency so I decide to sneak them in. Everything goes alright, until 12:30 am. And the fucking hotel alarms go off. You always see those signs in hotels pointing to emergency exits, and never think you'll actually have to use it. The alarms are blaring occasionally with a "fire, fire, carbon monoxide detected" being played, great to have 2 CO2 scares just within a few days. My birds are freaking out, I'm worried they're gonna have heart attacks, the one fucking time I sneak pets into a hotel and this happens. I run out of the hotel with them, go into our car. Even if they did figure out we had birds they'd be pretty ballsy to try to kick us out after this. Turns out there wasn't a fire, but a burst pipe and someones room flooded. Are fire alarms supposed to go off because of that? No idea but anyways, the alarm goes on for an hour, the firefighters show up, and then the alarms turn off. On all floors except ours. My mom asked the front desk and they said they're just waiting for the alarm company to turn if off. So we wait in our car for another hour and a half, switching between turning if on and running the heat and off to conserve gas. My ears felt like they were going to rupture for 20 mins after I left the hotel, and I think I'm coming down with something. 3 am and we can finally go back in, have fun trying to sleep when you're worried about the alarm coming back on.

Anyways the power came back on around Friday/Saturday, it was on for about probably a day and we weren't told cause we were literally couch surfing and the power company's communications is run by monkeys on typewriters. And a pipe burst. Over our living room. And it is completely destroyed. The wood floors buckled and are ruined, the wall and ceiling are ruined the front door is ruined and won't close, luckily we managed to salvage the carpet, but the other furniture's surfaces are ruined. The walls are going to have to be torn down and replaced. Oh and my closet got destroyed, I lost a bunch of shit and clothes, but thankfully my work pants survived, wow thanks... And throughout all of this I'm pretty sure I had the flu, the one time I put off my flu shot. Oh and the living room is where we have our fireplace and were sleeping in front of it so we put my mattress out there and it was destroyed. So I am sleeping in the guest room.

There's a bunch of other shit I've omitted cause this has been long enough, but holy shit this has been one of the worst weeks I have had in recent memory. In a few months when prices are down we are going to buy a shitload of emergency supplies. I have been genuinely fucking depressed and had multiple mental breakdowns.

[deregirls]

You ask for money from strangers quite often. How is running out something that keeps happening? Especially when you talk about spending more money on video games and stuff. I've only just gotten back into Tumblr recently, so maybe you had a decent pause between now and the last one, but I recall you asking for money a lot. How is this something that happens more than twice?

When was the last time you saw me talk about buying anything that wasn't food. Please direct me to it. I bought persona 4 because it was ON SALE and I had money at the time. I didn't expect for my fiance and I to get COVID and each lose a week of work when I bought it otherwise I wouldn't have.

Other than that. I have not done ANYTHING nice for myself since moving, other than theme park trips that were basically already paid for bc my fiance got season passes well in advance

Please have some respect. Things have been really rough on my fiance and I because we had to kick out our roommate that was abusing us, and our new roommate is having some problems because of something he was wrongfully accused of (by my fiances sister might I add because surprise surprise she's STILL an awful person) and is still trying to prove his innocence for.

We are trying our hardest and this is the first time in a long time I've had to seriously beg. I've asked for a extra dollar here and there to get some food when there was none and there was still a couple days til payday, but this is the first time I've seriously needed it, all because my fiance and I had to watch out for our mental health.

For more details so you think this isn't just some random kicking out, our roommate nearly put me in the psych ward a second time when I had just gotten out, gave us BOTH eating disorders by abusing us for eating and not helping us keep food in the house, and did not lift a FINGER in helping us move. WE moved their heavy furniture. They did NOTHING.

[thereisanangelinyou]

Hello dears,

How are you?

Stream of consciousness below about life changes and everything that's happened lately.

I've had a lot of changes in my life recently. A few months ago I moved in with my partner, got a job four days later. Then I was sick for four weeks straight with three different ailments. Now I am on the mend and nearly back to full health thankfully.

My boyfriend and I have made many changes to each others life through this whole process. He has me interested in more games and media and I have him excited about plants and trying new things. We are opposites only in our methods of relaxing- he likes to lounge and I like to get out. Otherwise we match nearly perfectly on every matter. In way it works out- he gets me to slow down, relax my body and mind when needed. And I get him up and moving and out of the house when he needs it (or I am antsy and he tags along lol).

I work at sweets bakery now. I make cakes and cupcakes and cookies all day long and while I don't even really love our products I am happy to be learning. There is so much I want to do- to learn and try out.

I've been a lot happier since moving. Less lows and when they come they don't last so long. But I am having another problem. We are in city- a very small, southern one but still a city. My body has become used to well water, to living surrounded by trees and wild flowers. To waking up and feeding the chickens. To rounding them up at night and feeding the dog and cat. I didn't feel the best mentally there but was spiritual connection. In that area I often felt isolated, life the spirit of nature there was stagnant- and I still believe that- but I do miss how easy it was to enter nature and disconnect from the world there even if it wasn't fully the spiritual connection I was seeking. But I bring this up because there is nothing here of connection. The trees don't breath the same way. And while nature here grows beautifully it doesn't feel right. I worry wherever I go it will never feel right. I know I made the right decision moving here and being with my boyfriend but I am eager for us to eventually relocate. But the thing there is he wants big city and convenience while I want space and self reliance. We will compromise and make it work but it does make things a little harder in that sense. No matter where we are though- we are happy together.

I've been trying to buy cleaner and "healthier" options when I can- whether food or decor or what have you. There are so many farms in neighboring towns and cities and no where here sells local produce which baffles me. There is a farmers market but I work on the one day it's open. Though I've been eating better and working more and exercising more that I have in the last few years- I've gained weight. Belly fat and extra jiggle on my arms and thighs. I'm not really upset about it- just a little confused. It will move the more fit I become so I do not worry myself over it. Even if I were not to lose it I am just thankful I have a relatively healthy body.

I got some furniture for the apartment recently too- a rack for our eventual fishtank and terrarium, a table for our window garden that is expanding with something new every week it seems, and a bakers rack for the kitchen which I am so happy about! I think that's all I have for this stream of consciousness- I feel sort of in a rut- but I've been out all day today doing whatever and going wherever and I feel a little bit better. But I digress.

I hope you are well and have a good week dear xx

[sautethehorrors]

Reading advice for "full-time" artists coming from a background of sew work is strange.

"Most artists don't make enough from their art to live off." Ok, so charge more? Wtf is "full-time" if you're joking about working 150 hours a week? Like it's even weirder when I think about shit like CoSt Of LiViNg and stuff, it's like some people are magically deigned fit to be afford to live for either working one of the like three "respectable" jobs (typing, building, ordering people around) or like two artists/musicians/whatevers a year who are suddenly elevated to the status of "being able to afford to live comfortably." None of this makes any sense and I don't understand why it's still.. like this? Idk, I've been playing Resident Evil Village and most of the game is wandering around a ruined remote European village and finding notes and diaries of the people that lived there, and the fact that there's a luthier's house in the village is like. Imagine being able to make a living from making violins in this tiny mountain village. then I realised that all of the buildings in the village are like hundreds of years old, they've just always been there. Imagine just... having enough housing for everyone. Imagine just being able to live in the same house your whole life, knowing that when your parents died you'd still have the same home. your kids would have it, their kids would have it. I feel like that's... Like a tree that is allowed to grow roots instead of being pulled up and replanted constantly. Even though everyone in this village was dirt poor, they still all had a place to live. The cookware and furniture and everything else was between 200 and 30 years old, sturdy as fuck. Imagine not having to buy new cooking pots or a bedframe. I feel like this tickled something that I've been trying to put into words for a long time.

There are different kinds of poor. Consumption has become a hallmark of poverty. Everything has a timer on it, and the constant stress of wondering when your necessities are going to fall apart on you is constantly gnawing away at your mental processes. It was strange to just walk around this digital village and see old poor instead of modern poor.

[homerforsure]

Next week I'm gonna write seven sentences that are the most amazing, the most stupendous, the most destined to leave you on the edge of your seat. And I'm gonna wake up early! And do it first! And then I'll be a success.

[pjisskullourful]

i just finish filling out the second notebook that i could buy thanks to tips/commissions🥰 most of this book is commissions (aswell as the most recent two stainedsheets chapters)& i got it filled out in a little over a month

but amongst the commissions i did get some work done on this ethan request, the vcard fic. idk if i've already teased this, but sue me- heres a preview of the start of his canvas

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The fifth date and it was time for Ethan to show you one of his hidden talents - his strong artistic skills in the medium of painting. It was payback after you had shown him your hidden talent - knowing far too much about astrology. A lunchtime date at your apartment had ended with you putting hours into doing his birth chart. He had listened intently to every word, sitting on the ground with you as you had scribbled on different scraps of paper, somehow following your train of thought. He hadn't had someone explain this much about the zodiac signs to him before and you could tell he was actually interested, not just nodding while mentally wishing you would shut the Hell up.

It had taken up a lot of time, in fact it had taken up the remainder of the date. He had to rush off for rehearsals, leaving you in your self-created mess of enthusiastic sharing of your special interest. He had to leave before the deed could be done.

The fourth date - you should have been sleeping with him by now. Every piece of media that you had ever consumed had told you that the third date was the magic one. A woman who didn't sleep with a man on the third date was frigid, prudish and not worth his time.

But now you were at the fifth date and you hadn't gone any further than second base. Your tongue knew his quite well at this point, but the question of what would happen if you let him do more than just unhook your bra hung heavy in the air.

He knew that you were a virgin (you had blurted this out during your second date) and it seemed he was determined to stay as respectful as possible. Potentially he was waiting for you to make the first move, but you kept finding distractions.

Was this what today's art project would be, just another distraction as you remained within your comfort zone? He had invited you to his apartment, but beyond telling you that it would include painting, you were in the dark of what he actually had planned. Was he going to teach you how to paint something? Would he ask if you could recreate the sketching scene from Titanic?

You had been to his apartment once before, but that was a quick stop in. This would be hours in his home.

It looked different to what you recalled, all of the furniture pushed out, towards the walls. In the lounge room, a large portion of the wood floors was covered by a plastic sheet. It clicked when you saw three canvases of varying sizes resting against the wall.

He came over to stand beside where you were, your eyes trying to locate the easels. He was dressed in a tank top that already bore smears of paint, all in different colours and different stages of fading to indicate the inconsistency of their ageing. When you looked at him, it was to find he was smiling and you felt yourself put at ease.

"I figured that we should do something less formal, something fun- 'cause you said you hadn't painted since you were a kid, right?" He said. "Which means the last time you painted was for fun and that's what we wanna do here- finger painting. You don't have to do anything that's focused on perfection. It's to just play in the paint, you don't have to try to impress me. Nothing too serious."

You snickered before you could stop yourself. "Sorry. It's just… you just literally always look like every situation that you're in is the most serious thing in the whole world."

He narrowed his eyes into a glare. "Just for that- you're getting the smallest canvas."

The two of you took up a place on the ground, cross-legged and surrounded by bottles of paint of seemingly every colour. He had one canvas laid out in front of him and, in the opposite of his threat, it was the smallest of the three. You had your own sitting in front of your folded legs, at a complete loss of where to start.

"Are you ready?" He asked, tying his hair away from his face into a quick, careless bun. "Or do you need more wine to get the creativity flowing?"

You picked up a bottle of lilac paint, popping open the lid and upending it over the blank white surface. "I've got it covered."

You squirted out a generous dollop towards the bottom right corner of the canvas, pushing it up in a half-circle. Then you collected a bottle of the darkest purple in sight. You worked at creating a gradient, adding in other shades of purple to fill out the canvas.

You kept sitting back to survey your progress, looking over it and letting your sticky hands rest. You couldn't stop yourself from seeing the imperfections - the different sections were inconsistent in size, the lines that separated them too obvious.

Then your overthinking became an issue for you to critique - surely you were thinking too much and messing this whole thing up. Your critical eye was keeping you from properly connecting with this process as he had intended. You worried that you were taking too long, so much of the canvas was still bare and he must be bored.

But when you looked up, you found that he wasn't progressing far ahead of you at all. His canvas had only one corner covered in a small swatch of light blue. Instead of paying any attention to his painting, he was watching you, a small, shy smile pulling at one cheek.

At once you felt self-conscious. "What? Am I doing this so terribly wrong?"

"No, not at all." He said, still looking amused. "I'm just… don't mind me. It's nothing, I'm just curious about your process."

"Does it look like I have any kind of process?" You asked. "Wait, but what about you? Or is this part of your process- studying me like a zoo exhibit?"

"I wasn't… you're cute, okay? And I was getting distracted, 'cause I just wanted to look at you."

You felt a stirring of giddiness in your gut as you smiled at him, it made you tremble, it made you want to take action. You broke eye-contact just long enough to swipe your finger through a dollop of paint. "Well, that's not what I came here to do. I wasn't told that I'd be getting googly eyes on me." You leaned forward, across the space between the two of you. "I was promised painting."

You smeared the purple paint across his cheek and he smiled, no witty retorts lined up for this scenario.

"This paint is non-toxic, right?" You asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, that's good, because…" You put a darker shade of purple on your fingers this time before you dragged them over his other cheek. "Sorry, I just have a thing about symmetry. It would've driven me nuts looking at just one painted cheek."

"Good, I'm glad, I would hate for you to go nuts."

You looked down at his canvas. "You look like you've hit a bit of a creative block here, huh? Do you need some help?"

"Help?" He repeated.

"Yeah, maybe it's the canvas, maybe it's the wrong, like, medium, or whatever." You said. "Maybe if you painted on something else, it could give you a different perspective on what to paint."

He furrowed his brow, tilting his head to the side. "What are you suggestin-..." His eyes grew wide as he watched your movements. "What are you...what are you doing?"

You had grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off from over your head. "What if you painted on me?" You pushed yourself up onto your knees.

He gazed up at you. "What do you, um, are you sure?"

"Yeah." You said with a shrug. "You said the paint was non-toxic."

He was starting to smile as you continued taking off your clothes, wriggling free of your denim shorts. "I've never really painted on someone's body, and I don't even know if this is the right paint for that. But, that could be fun. I've already kinda got an idea in mind."

"You do?" Your face flushed, your heart pounding - the way you were trembling under his gaze was more intense than usual.

"Yeah." He had grabbed a paintbrush. "I could paint a fish scale design up-and-down your legs, to kind of make you look like a mermaid, mid-transformation or something. Does that make any sense?"

You nodded. "It does and I think that sounds really cool, I'd love to get turned into a mermaid."

"Okay." He picked up the mostly-blank canvas and moved it away, clearing the space in front of him, right before his folded legs. "Sit here and you can just stretch your legs out, or you can lay down if that's more comfortable."

You considered making a joke out of asking if he wanted you to spread your legs. But the words got stuck in your throat. You could feel the anticipation was thick in the air between the two of you and you were silently grateful that you had put on a cute, matching pair of lingerie.

It was the first time he was seeing your underwear, it was the first time anyone was seeing your underwear. You had been expecting this moment, both excited for and nervous over it. Your body had always been your secret, all of the parts that you didn’t like could be kept hidden.

But now you were exposing and entrusting yourself to him. You knew that he’d dated skinnier girls. Maybe there had been girls who could keep up with him in the gym - girls who had contoured muscles, where you had curves.

But if he noticed your stretch marks, it was for less than a second. His gaze spent most time on your face - this was where he was studying, trying to read what you weren’t saying.

You sat down with him on your left side, stretching your legs out straight in front of you. “Paint me like one of your French fishies.”

“Do you have any colour palette in mind?” He asked.

“None whatsoever.”

He had picked up one of the mixing trays, resting this on his knee, before he started to grab at different bottles of paint. “You started with purple over there, which I appreciate, ‘cause that’s my favourite colour. We could have these warm-toned purples…” He showed each colour to you. “And what I think would also look great, adding in some oranges. Again, in these warm-tones, ‘cause that’ll match the warm colour of your eyes.”

You smiled, he hadn’t required a second look to confirm the colour of your eyes. He already knew this detail beyond a shadow of a doubt. “That sounds good to me.”

He prepared the colours, squirting a few generous dollops onto the palette. You were experiencing what was the opposite of leering - there had been men on the street that had stared at your body for a greater length of time.

“If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, like if I put my hand somewhere that you don’t want it or anything- please, tell me straight away and I’ll stop, no explanation needed, I’ll just…” He demonstrated how quickly he could raise his hands into the air, making you chuckle a little, reminding you of a criminal getting a gun pointed at them. “Okay?”

You nodded with a smile. “Okay, thank you.”

He had wet the bristles of the brush with the purple paint, but he touched your skin with his fingertips. “Are there any ticklish or otherwise sensitive spots that I should avoid?”

You bit into your lip, it didn’t matter how respectful his gaze was, he was still able to make you blush. “No, you can touch me wherever.” His hand halted on your knee, his eyes growing wider. “I mean, when you’re painting, uh, when you’re painting on my legs.”

“Good to know.” He said, his hand holding firm to your knee as his fingers caressed over your skin.

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

'Madder Than a Hatter' Chapter 6: You're Gonna Lose Your Soul

A/N: I know it's been so long since I've updated, but my mental health took such a dive. I'm trying to get back into writing again, slowly but surely.

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

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“I can’t believe it,” Hatter mused, looking around them. They had only been following Charlie for twenty minutes, and he managed to lead them to an abandoned mushroom village. Every cottage was rounded with a mushroom top roof. Alice couldn’t tell if they had been hollowed out to transform into a cottage or if they were entirely hand-built. The forest trees surrounded the area and ten-foot tall tree-like mushrooms provided cover from the rain.

Charlie held his head up with pride. “The Oracle never steers us wrong, Harbinger. Trust in that.” With a sweeping gesture, he held his arms out toward one of the homes, allowing them to go ahead.

Taking her hand, Hatter led Alice up the stone stairs leading up to the closest cottage. It was dark and cold inside, a feeling of emptiness settled in the three of them. When their eyes adjusted, for it was much darker than it was outside, they went searching for a source of light. They took it slow, careful not bump into any furniture.

“Hey,” Alice called out to them, “I think I found an oil lamp. It still has some juice in it. We just need to find some matches.”

Hatter made his way over to her right away, digging through his pockets. He pulled out a matchbox with only a couple left inside. “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” he said, striking the match and lighting the wick.

The small room was enveloped in a warm glow, surprising them by what was revealed to them. For an abandoned land, the little cottage appeared preserved as if no time had passed. If it hadn’t been lived in for hundreds of years, there was no indication of it. The room was round, the sitting room and kitchen separated only by a wooden counter where the oil lamp had been found. There was a sofa set a few feet back from the fireplace, which could definitely help warm the place up. The wood in the basket was still fresh somehow and hadn’t rotted away.

Looking up, there was a stairway that led up to the mushroom cap of the cottage, which most likely contained a bedroom or two at most. Charlie got to work on the fire whilst Hatter searched for anything that could be of use to them. Aiding in the search, Alice’s head felt heavy as if it were made of something much thicker than skin and bone. It must have been hunger or an after effect of the drugged water. Hell, it could have been both.

“Alice…”

Quickly, she turned back, frantically scanning the room corner to corner with her eyes. The voice sounded brittle, too close in her ear for comfort. A chorus of nearly inaudible whispers filled the room, but she appeared to be the only one who could hear them. A hand gripped her shoulder. Alice jumped with a shout and then Hatter was there, his voice full of concern. “Hey, Alice, look at me. You’re okay; I’m here. Tell me what happened.”

“I…,” she began, “I’m not sure. There was a voice and then there were several. Something grabbed me.”

He looked around, noting there was nothing out of the ordinary around them. But in his experience, that didn’t mean something wasn’t there. All in all, he felt it best they all turn in for the night. The fire began crackling and Charlie had already taken it upon himself to sleep on the sofa. He held out his hand. “C’mon, luv, you need your rest.”

Hatter’s brows furrowed as he looked at her. “What’s the matter?”

Holding onto the ladder for dear life, Alice replied, “I’ve got a thing about heights.” She noticed him take a look down below, a short nervous laugh bubbling up. “Why couldn’t you guys build the city on the ground?”

Turning back to her, acknowledging her consuming fear, Hatter told her to look at him. “Alice.” Her shining blue eyes met his. He held his hand out for her to take, and reluctantly, she let go of the ladder, putting her hand in his. “Try not to look down…okay?”

Slowly, step by step, he led her through, his eyes never leaving hers. Despite his sketchy con-man persona, Alice had placed her safety in his hands, trusting him for the first time.

A small smile appeared on her face. “You helped me,” she spoke quietly.

“Alice? You okay?”

“Yes,” she assured him. “I’m starting to remember a little. You led me around the ledges of the tallest city in Wonderland when I was frozen with fear.”

Hatter smiled. “That’s right, I did.” A moment passed between them—a sort of silent fondness. “Shall we see what’s upstairs?”

With a nod, Alice followed his lead once more, a little less scared than she had been before.

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Duchess was beyond worried. How could the Queen of Souls still live? Her death was a major turning point in Wonderland’s history. Another night had passed with no sign of the trio. Taking matters into her own hands, she stormed into her husband’s office.

“Darling, what is it?” he asked, an alertness in his voice.

She seated herself upon the sofa opposite his desk. “How can she still live, Jack? She’s dead. I’m not leaving until I get an answer.”

Jack sighed. He hadn’t wanted to worry her further, but it appeared as if his silence on the subject had the opposite effect. “She’s not technically alive, but a spirit, I wager. There’s an old urban legend that states if she were to steal three souls, she could come back as flesh and blood.”

“Alice, Hatter, and Charlie,” Duchess realised. “And someone—presumably the so-called ‘doctor’ of Alice’s—set this up in order to do just that.”

He nodded. “Whoever it may be, if they think the Queen of Souls would help them to take over the throne instead of stealing it for herself, they’re mad as can be.”

“How do we help them?” she asked.

“I’m working on it,” he assured her. “Though, I’m not sure if anyone but themselves can get them out of there.”

She stood, regal in the way she always held herself. “Then we need to track down whoever killed that group of tea addicts. Surely that’s who’s responsible.”

Jack smiled with the knowledge that he did, indeed, make the right woman the Queen of Hearts. And he loved her with all of his.

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Lurking in the shadows, she searched for her prey, for the different colored glow of their souls. Blue, green, and white. She had almost had the blue girl in her grasp, but that damned Bandersnatch was onto her. Why it was choosing to protect them, she hadn’t a clue. She was nothing but a shadow, a ghoul. Under a constant full moon, she sought to steal three souls, and become whole once more. Wonderland would fall beneath her rule, starting with that wretched Catherine Thorpe.

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

I literally just wrote a whole ass journal entry about this but actually the more I think about the more I'm pissed.

My roommate and friend of a few years recently had a really horrible personal tragedy happen in her life. It happened that this loss was around the time our lease was ending. I had asked her what she was going to do in December (our lease ends in February) and knew then that I was kind of pushing the envelope for time, but she kind of waffled about and then when I asked again - literally days before she lost her friend - she was like "yeah i'm moving back home."

Which fine, cool whatever, now I'm in a panic scrambling to find housing. Because that the thing!! I moved into this place because she wanted to move away from home, and needed a roommate. I thought "cool, awesome, I'd love to live with my friend!" but from the get-go, I don't think she understood my situation. Her home life is not always ideal, but she's also never lived away from her family before. So while I'm going around getting furniture, hand soap and cleaning supplies, trash bins, making sure there are pots and pans, plates and dishes that we can use - she just sets up her own space.

Whatever cool fine. We both use the common areas so I don't mind buying the furniture.

I also end up doing the dishes and taking out the trash and cleaning most often.

Whatever cool fine. She always goes to visit her family on the weekends so it makes sense that I end up doing more cleaning than her anyway.

I always end up picking up her packages because she orders a lot and isn't always at home when they're dropped off.

Cool whatever fine. It's not like I'm going to let her stuff sit in the lobby, I'm not an asshole.

So I scramble, and work my ass off to find another apartment. I had gone in and talked to the leasing office - like I have done every other time I moved - and informed them that we're ending our lease. Did this in person, with all the relevant people there to witness me doing this.

They bill us for the last 14 days of the lease and claim that they didn't consider my in-person notification valid because they need it in writing.

Now she's pissed. She doesn't want to pay the money because she randomly quit her job (which she'd hated for ages but still???? with no back-up plan????????) and "didn't have the mental capacity" to be double checking the move out information due to her grief.

Like hello!?!? Am I crazy or why is this only my responsibility? You want to talk about mental capacity while I'm fighting for my goddamn life in the San Francisco housing market because you couldn't decide whether or not to move home within a more reasonable time frame?!?! You want to talk about how I've been job hunting for five months with no luck!?!?!?! Why does she just get to move back in with her parents while I'm draining my fucking savings account of almost three thousand dollars to pay for moving costs. I get that she's annoyed but I'm mostly just fucking FLOORED. I thought this girl was my friend but I'm realizing that she has literally never once considered that this might be a tough situation for me as well. That maybe I have things going on that make me stressed out. That I'm trying to help her the best I can and she's not really making that easy for me because she's made her choice and now everyone else can go fuck themselves essentially.

Mostly I'm sad. I don't think she wants to be my friend anymore. Which is a shame, because I really liked her and thought she was cool.

Whatever. I did all I could.

Im making myself a cup of tea. god fucking damn it.

[nervousmendes]

Drunken Haze | Shawn Mendes

Shawn x reader (smut)

a/n: this was a failed attempt at writing smut for the first time. (it's very mild, mostly just sexual tension and making out) do check out more of my work on my masterlist right here

summary: Shawn sees the reader at a bar and makes a move.

warnings: mild smut (making out) and very little swearing

Cez does his fair share of research when it comes to choosing a bar to spend the night at, and when you're in Paris (yes, with a French accent) it's totally worth it. Brian walked in first, Shawn and Cez not far behind. "Man I'm so getting shit-faced in here." he sighed as the three of them observed the fancy lights, furniture and wall hangings, taking in the scent of alcohol and cigerettes suspended in in the warm air of the closed space. Cez being the only bright one in the three, quickly spotted an empty booth in the lounge but Shawn's eyes fell straight on a blond haired women, her black dress hugging her hips so well and her toned legs crossed one over the other while she tipped her head back, letting the expensive wine in the glass she was holding flow into her system.

There was something about her that intrigued him. Maybe it was the confidence she radiated, the way she sat with her back poised, the way her silky hair flowed down her shoulders or maybe it had something to do with how her skin glowed in the dim lighting. He felt the urge to approach her, like she pulled him towards her. And it was as if his legs knew what his heart wanted when they started making calculated steps towards the bar counter that she was facing. His thoughts went every which way trying to figure out what to say as he took the stool exactly beside her's, completely ignoring the five (or more) empty stools on his other side.

"Hey." He internally patted himself on the back for sounding a lot more confident than he actually was.

"Do I know you?" Her face broke into a polite smile, and her thick french accent dripped with the words she spoke out of her red stained lips.

"Maybe?"

Too cocky.

"You don't give me a businessman vibe." She said looking at him from head to toe. Looking. She saw the black denim that covered his toned legs, his satin, white shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and the little scar on his cheek that gave his soft facial features a more rugged look. Shawn watched her keenly. His hand went to his hair, fingers pushing a stray curl out of his eye.

"What makes you think I'm a businessman?" He turned in his stool and rested his arm on the bar counter to make her shift her vision from his face to his forearm that flexed under the thin fabric.

"They're usually the cocky ones." He was searching for what to say slightly taken aback by the fact that someone found him cocky, considering that no one has ever called him that before, not in a bad way. He wasn't offended, just surprised. In fact he liked that the whole 'be confident' thing was working.

"But you seem nice, I'll give you that." She chuckled while twirling the empty wine glass in her small hand.

"Will you let me buy you your next drink?"

She considered it, and almost nodded yes for affirmation but then her brows drew in an L shape. "I think I've already had too much to drink." She was mentally trying to count how many times the bartender filled her glass with Chartreuse.

"So why don't you tell me your name, mysterious, handsome, American man?" She said leaning close to him. The already deep cut neck line of her dress plunged down even further, dangerously low, making Shawn draw in a sharp breath through his mouth.

"I love mysterious and handsome, but I'm actually Canadian." He narrowed his eyes at her with a smirk and she couldn't help but smile.

"And nice to meet you, I'm Shawn. Et toi?"

"I can tell you skipped your french classes often back in school." She broke into a chuckle, making Shawn grin right back at her, his face very close to hers.

"You know nothing about me, but I'm afraid this one's true." He whispered, his minty breath fanning her face. She laughed again while placing her hand on Shawn's toned bicep that was rested on the countertop.

"You're funny." Her gaze burned into him.

"I wasn't even trying." Liar.

"I'm guessing that's a lie." They never broke eye contact.

"For someone that guesses a lot, you're pretty accurate."

"You know nothing about me." She said just like he did a minute ago, her lips almost grazing his making sure to not touch them. What a tease.

"How about," the tips of his calloused fingers went to her bare shoulder, "I start with knowing what those pretty lips of yours taste like?" and stroked the soft, supple skin on her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

"That's a good start." She inched closer.

"So is that a yes?"

Instead of giving him an answer, she touched his lips with hers, hands going to either side of his neck. He covered her mouth with his, tasting the expensive alcohol she had been drinking all night. He nudged closer to get a better angle, his large hands taking purchase on her waist. Their tongues danced with each other's, deepening the kiss. He moaned under his breath when she licked the roof of his mouth, and he used that as an opportunity to suck on her lower lip. Her nails scratched his scalp, tangling her fingers in his long, soft curls and she quickly figured how much he liked it from the way he kissed her harder in response to tugging his hair. She broke the kiss for air, he assumed but then when he pulled her in again, she opened her mouth to speak.

"I live only ten minutes away, let's get out of here." She was breathing heavily. He nodded and gave her a quick kiss on the lips before getting off the stool and helping her down shortly after. He left a quick text to Brian asking them to carry on with whatever they were upto and rolled his eyes at Brian's response telling him to "not bust that nut too quick". They got in an Uber and sat beside each other, lips red and swollen, breath heavy, and their thoughts everywhere. They didn't say a word to each other. They didn't know what to say but they were both trying to reach out for some sort of connection. She cleared her throat in an attempt to gather the right words before she spoke. Her eyes were set on her hands that played with the hem of her dress.

"Is now a good time to tell you.." He looked up at her, signalling for her to go on. She gulped, "that I actually know who you are, and I acted like I didn't because I didn't want you think of me as someone who would see you as an object just because you're a celebrity." She made air quotes on the word 'celebrity', like it was such a weird thing to say, a word that gives a human, with a little fame they never knew was coming their way, the title of an object.

"That is the best decision you ever made. If I knew you knew I'm sure I wouldn't even have made a move. You have no idea how glad I am that you did that."

She finally dropped the hem of her dress and looked back at him through her long eyelashes. That was it, there was no holding back anymore. Shawn's lips crashed into hers and she kissed his mouth back with that much force, curling her fingers into the collar of his shirt. His one hand went around her waist, palm flat against the small of her back, and the other was tangled in her beautiful, blond locks.

Their lips didn't leave other's even while unlocking the door, and just like you see in the movies, they kissed their way into her bedroom until Shawn's legs hit the cot and his butt landed on the soft spring mattress of her bed. She kicked off her heels and threw one leg to his other side, her knees on either side of his legs, straddling him. His hands slid down from her waist to fill his palms with the flesh of her toned bum. He cooed as he kneaded them with every movement she made sitting right on top his hard-on that strained his tight denims. Shawn drew his lips away from her mouth to leave wet kisses down her jawline and along the expanse of her throat. He attached his lips to the spot under her ear and sucked on the skin there, causing a shivering moan to tumble down her plump lips. He explored her neck and her chest with his hungry lips, tasting the lavender flavour of the soap she lathered on herself earlier that evening. Somewhere along kissing and a lot of exploring later, all the clothing they helped each other get rid of were scattered on the floor, sweat covered bodies moulding and crashing to give each other the climax they longed for.

(I cannot write smut for shit so I cut the crap out and got to the point.)

She woke up to the warmth of the sun shining on her golden skin through the half drawn blinds, feeling a mild headache from all that she had to drink the previous night. That's when she remembered him. She jutted her head out of her pillow to see that his clothes weren't on the floor anymore. She shifted under the sheets to find an empty bed beside her and a post it note neatly placed in the centre, exactly where he slept. She took it in her hand, squinting until she could read what it said.

Sorry, I left without saying goodbye. I'm playing a show today and I have to be there early. Last night was really fun. x

- S.M

Her lips formed a shy smile and her cheeks were tinged a shade of red as she recollected the events of last night. She folded the piece of paper in her hand contemplating whether she had to throw it or save it. She looked down at it one more time, and that's when she noticed that something was written on the other side. She turned the post-it around, to find a phone number written on it and under it he'd written, "maybe I'm glad I didn't say goodbye".

She laughed to herself, carefully placing the paper in her journal, already excited by the idea of seeing him again. She met Shawn less than twenty four hours ago and hardly knew anything about him, but there something about him that drew her in, made her want to get to know him better and of course feel that pretty mouth of his between her legs once again.

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I'm thinking maybe I'll do a part 2 to this so let me know what you think. Hope you liked this one. Reply to this or leave me a message if you want to get added to my taglist!!

[north-and-ellie]

On the Subject of North

So I recently made a post showing North in her ESA vest with one of her tags being, Service Dog in Training. Since then, I have received a few anonymous asks, a comment, and a message telling me the difference between an ESA and a Service Dog, some respectful, some not. One of the anons was even hateful, telling me I was disrespecting the ADA and all service dogs by claiming she is a Service Dog with my "attention-seeking ways."

Normally, this is something I would ignore. I know my situation. They don't. Granted, I have been very quiet on both this blog and my main blog so most of my followers don't know what is going on. The most I have shared was on a chapter update on AO3, which can be seen here.

And even then, this says next to nothing about what I have been going through emotionally. My videos with North say nothing about it either. Some disabilities are invisible. Anxiety is invisible. My followers didn't see how I had at least two anxiety attacks a day while hospitalized. My followers don't see how a simple thing such as going to the grocery store can turn into a nightmare as I try to hold back tears simply because of a minor inconvenience. They don't see how I start shaking in the car whenever a car in front of me gets too close, and how I've still been unable to even try to drive more than a month after the accident. They don't see me waking up every hour of the night, whether it is due to pregnancy pain or a nightmare. They don't feel the guilt I feel at being unable to handle certain tasks, especially since I'm supposed to be a mother soon.

They don't see how much North helps with this.

When we first adopted North, I'm not going to lie, I wanted my husband to take her straight back. This husky was loud, easily excitable, had severe separation anxiety, terrify my cats, and I got anxious leaving her home because I was scared she was going to get out, tear up my furniture, pee on the floor, or try to eat another battery so I burn my hand on the acid as I try to get it out of her mouth. And how incredibly selfish was I to want that.

We are North's fourth owner. She was nine months old when we got her. Nine freaking months. On top of that, she is a husky. Of course she has separation anxiety. Of course she would act out. Of course she is easily excitable and incredibly social. She was a husky puppy. And once we took a trip to my parents-in-law to Thanksgiving, the bond I formed with her completely destroyed any doubt that she belongs with me and my little family. She became my daughter, and I her doggy mom. She loves training and responds well to it. She loves people and animals, and has learned to be gentle when playing. She sleeps on the bed with me and constantly guards me while following me around the house. She is so smart, so sweet, so loving, so funny, and so North, how could I not love her? Sure, it took some work but she fits like a puzzle piece now.

It's almost common knowledge that huskies are working dogs. They need the constant physical and mental stimulation to be happy. So when my anxiety started to really act up, she was the perfect candidate to start training as a Service Dog, and my doctor agreed. I didn't want medication, talking to people just didn't seem to help, and as everything started getting worse and worse, I knew I needed a solution, and I needed one quick. I'm going to be a mother soon and I have responsibilities to my family. North became my solution.

North already does several things to help me, and everyone who knows us knows that I'm her person. Just as I go to her for comfort, she does the exact same. Just like I depend on her for protection, she depends on me. But as for how she helps me, let me list the ways.

Whenever I have an anxiety attack, she recognizes my "huff-cry" and she puts her paws on my shoulders and licks my face until I'm calm enough to breathe normally. If I try to push her off, she comes straight back and nudges my hands until I'm petting her. This was not trained but she does it every single time.

If someone acts threatening to me, she puts herself between me and them, and if they make a move toward me, she growls. If they try to place a hand on me, she places their hand/arm in her mouth and moves it. This was reinforced behavior she already had but she was trained to stop on command, and she does so, every single time.

Whenever I have a godawful day or if I come home in tears, she just seems to know and she presses herself against me and stays by my side until I feel better. Sometimes she brings me a toy to accomplish this. This was not a trained behavior but is reinforced.

She's always down for some petting and acts as my "shadow" so she is always available to be pet. Medical studies have proven that petting an animal has calming effects, and can even lower your blood pressure.

Seeing how she is incredibly insightful and intelligent, this makes her the perfect candidate to be MY Service Dog. Would she be perfect for everyone? Hell no. She is very high-energy and willfull. Just like I need a special dog, she needs a special person. However, as of right now, she is not ready to be a registered Service Dog.

While legally speaking in the US, there aren't a specific set of requirements, there are international guidelines and quite a few of the groups that register Service Dogs require that these dogs meet those guidelines before they'll register the dog. I also happen to agree with those guidelines, and I know use important it is that she is well behaved when in public, for our safety and the public image of the ADA. So, for now, she is an Emotional Support Dog. It doesn't give her the same rights and access as a Service Dog. However, she is protected in terms of housing and can accompany me on airplanes. My hospital in particular allows them, although not all do. For now, it'll have to do while I train her, and work with a trainer, so she can properly do her job and learn a few more behaviors to mitigate my attacks.

And while Emotional Support is not officially listed as a proper task, it helps far more than you know. Before you judge my situation and name names, keep in mind that you know nothing about my situation. You know nothing because you are not entitled to know my situation. I'm simply sharing this so I can stop this before it becomes a problem. And never once did I claim she is a Service Dog. I made a tag: Service Dog in Training. Not Service Dog. Service Dog in Training.

Please be respectful to others and don't buy into this "attack" culture before you know the full story. Save that for when the disrespect is real and there is actually a problem.