#anyway my mom's dog locked me out of the house

[xhoneygirlxx]

Life Sized

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: After a spell gone wrong, Eddie Munson is stuck with a real life Lucky Lucy doll.

warnings: fluff. slight angst. grump x sunshine reader. cussing. mentions of Eddie dealing. strangers to friends. Reader is a doll, "Lucky Lucy", however because she's made up skin tone, body type, and ethnicity is not mentioned. Eddie calls reader doll/Luce/Lucy Reader does wear Eddie's clothes. Reader and Eddie are around 20 (even though reader is a doll, she's been out for about 20 something years). 90s era.

*if I missed anything please let me know!

a/n: hi my loves! I'm so sorry for the wait but life was hectic for the past few days with schedule changes and birthday plans. I want to let you guys know I am slightly hung over so this might now be the best. Anyway, thank you guys for joining me on this birthday adventure! Love you guys :)

Cause we are living in a material world

And I am a material girl

“Woah woah woah woah woah,” Eddie waves hand back and forth, eyes closed as he tries to process what he just heard, “You did what?” 

Sighing heavily, Dustin stands up from the well loved couch that sits in the Munson’s trailer. “If you listened the first time you would have heard me. I said, I went to the crazy lady’s store in the hopes of bringing Chews back from the dead because I can’t watch my mom cry anymore. Before I created a monster out of a dead cat, we decided to practice on Mike’s sister’s doll,” Turning his body slightly, Dustin points to the pretty girl that sits in the recliner. 

“It didn’t work but when we woke up this morning she was sitting there.” The curly haired boy stares at the older boy in front of him, semi out of breath from his fast speaking. 

“Let me get this straight, you went to the one place that is off limits to everyone in Hawkins, bought a book of spells, and then brought a doll to life, only to bring said doll to my house?” His voice is loud enough to ricochet off the thin walls. 

“Well you said everything I just said, but yeah pretty much.” The young boy nods causing the curls of his hair to bounce. 

“Nuh uh, no, I don’t want any parts of this.” Shaking his head, Eddie begins to push the younger boy towards the door. 

“Eddie please,”  Will begs from his spot on the couch, “We have no one else to turn to.” 

“Yeah, come on Eddie, we need our dungeon master.” Lucas adds, knocking his shoulder into Mike who stays quiet on the arm of the sofa. 

“Hey don’t bring me into this, I didn’t want to do it.” Mike throws his hands up defensively, only to change his answer when the other two boys give him a stern look. 

“I-I mean, Eddie, we need your help.” It comes out more like a question than a plea but it’s the best they're going to get out of the black haired boy. 

Locking eyes with the older man who still has a hand on his shoulder, Dustin does his best to give the world's cutest puppy dog eyes. 

“Please, Eddie. I need you.” It’s quiet and sincere, and because it’s coming from Dustin it goes straight to Eddie’s heart, tugging tightly on the strings. 

Fuck why did he have to have such a soft spot for the kid. 

“I swear to Ozzy himself, if you don’t fix this in twenty four hours, your ass is grass.” A ringed finger is pointed at Dustin, his eyes going semi cross eyed from watching it wag in his face. 

Turning his body quickly, Eddie points his finger to the other three boys who sit wide eyed on the couch. “And that goes for you three. Your asses will be hanging right next to Wayne’s mugs if it doesn’t get fixed. Capiche?” 

When all four heads nod vigorously, Eddie straightens his posture and releases a sigh so loud it sounds like all the air from his lungs came out.

"Can I just say, you remind me of Lucky Lars! He has cool tattoos and long hair like you too!" You're looking right at him, eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Jesus H. Christ, there's really a talking doll in my house." Eddie's voice sounds like a whining child as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Alright it seems like everything is fine here, so we're gonna go ahead and leave." Before Eddie can stop Dustin or the rest of the younger boys, they're already out the door and gone.

"Great, just fucking great." Slapping a hand down to his thigh, Eddie spins on his heel and heads to the kitchen. He needs a fucking beer, or maybe six, either way he needs something to get him through this nightmare.

Opening the fridge, he grabs a cold can of pbr and gulps it right down without taking one breath. The liquid goes down so smooth and for a minute Eddie seems to forget the predicament he's in. Then you speak and he's instantly brought back to reality.

"Um, excuse me sir," It comes out so graceful and sweet and he hates it.

Without moving his head in your direction, he spits an angry "what" at you - teeth gritting and fist clenching. A part of him regrets being mean with you, it's not your fault this whole shitshow happened.

"I um, just wanted to ask if everything was okay." He hates that your pretty face is scrunched up with so much sadness and that he's the cause of it.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

"Yeah, just peachy." It's forced through his tight lip smile.

"Oh well that's great!" You annoyingly clap your hands together and he winces at the sound. "When can we go shopping?"

Eddie didn't know who he wanted to kill more, you, Dustin, or himself. Why he even agreed to taking you to Starcourt was beyond him, but God was the whole experience horrible. You commented on every single thing, stopped and looked at mundane objects, and ooh'd and awee'd every time you stepped in a new store.

Every store you walked into, you left with multiple bags, which Eddie had to carry. To make matters worse he had to pay for everything, burning a hole right through his drug dealing money. You're a doll for heaven sake, why the hell would you have money?

On the way home you would not stop talking about the whole experience, comparing everything to Lucy's Lucky Land. To make matters worse, you wouldn't stop touching the radio until you landed on the most ear bleeding pop song.

The moment the two of you arrived back at the trailer, Eddie realized he couldn't escape this nightmare. He was stuck with you until those little shit heads could come up with a solution to the problem.

"Alright, just uh.. put your bags somewhere in the corner." Eddie instructs, pointing in the cleanest corner of his bedroom.

Pink heels step on the brown shag carpet of his room, eyes traveling around as you take everything in. It was completely different from what you were used to, clothes scattered everywhere, cups and dishes stacked up, and posters with names you've never heard of.

It amazes you just like everything else you've seen today. You've never seen a room like this, not even the boy's back home had rooms like this. With wide eyes and agape mouth, you spin around with open arms, just like you did when you walked into the mall.

"Oh, Eddie! This is so beautiful!" With your bags still in hand, you sit down on the mess that is his bed.

"Oh my lucky stars!" You gasp, "Your bed is so soft!" Proving your point, you bounce on your butt causing the springs to creak with every movement.

Eddie watches from the doorway, unamused by your entertainment.

"Ugh yeah, it's a bed. Don't you have those in Lucky Land of Lucy or whatever it's called." Crossing his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow in questioning.

"It's Lucy's Lucky Land," you correct him, still smiling ear to ear, "and yes we do have beds! Our beds are made of plastic though, not bouncy like this one!" Sliding the bags from your arms, you continue to bounce but now you use your arms to make yourself go higher.

"Right, I should've known." He drawls.

Crossing into the room, Eddie starts taking off his vest and leather jacket, followed by his heavy boots. He doesn't realize that you've stopped bouncing, now honed in on his movements.

Turning around from where he stands by his dresser, he's met with the sight of you trying to take your shirt off.

"H-hey now, let's not do that." Turning his head to the side so he doesn't see anything he's not supposed to, he stretches his arms out to stop your hands from moving.

"Did I do something wrong?" You're so sincere when you say it, innocence dripping off of you like raindrops on a flower's petals.

"You can't just start taking your clothes off, Luce." His eyes are still to the floor, cheeks glowing red from the flush that's creeped it's way there.

"But I thought that's what you were doing." It sounds dejected and Eddie chances a look at you and he instantly regrets it.

There you sit on his messy, old, stain ridden bed, glossy pout on your lips and eyes glassy with tears. In that moment he sees you, the girl that's been nothing but sunshine and rainbows all day, the girl that's taken every indirect insult he threw with a smile on your face, now reduced to tears because of him.

"No, sweetheart, I was just taking off my shoes and jacket. When it's ready to change I'll let you do it in privacy." He tried his best to explain to you not wanting to upset you anymore.

"Are you mad at me?" You sniffle.

His eyes study your face, watching the tears roll down the plush skin of your cheeks. The more he looks, the worse his frown gets. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"B-because you d-don't want m-me here. I-I didn't mean to r-ruin your life Eddie." Tears now fall like a stream of water and words are being choked out through hiccups.

Eddie can feel all the blood drain from his body, cemented to the floor of his room. You're reduced to tears and snot because you think he hates you. He made you feel this way through constant eye rolls and loud huffs. You've been nothing but kind to him, trying everything in your power to get him to have one decent conversation with you. Yeah, there were some things he couldn't wrap his mind around when it came to you, especially when you tried to chase down a squirrel in pure curiosity, but you were trying.

Just this afternoon were you dropped off in a stranger's home, new to everything in the world, with not one single clue about life outside of your little playland. You didn't ask to be brought to life, you didn't ask for any of this but Eddie made it your problem the minute you opened your mouth.

He doesn't know what to do or say, he just stands there completely silent watching your shiny exterior crumble to nothing.

"I j-just wanted to be y-your friend b-but you hate me." Your small palms catch your face, your sobs now echoed in the curve of your hands.

"Lucy," Eddie walks over to you, dropping to his knees in front of you, "I don't hate you, okay?"

Separating two of your fingers, you peek at him from the comfort of your hiding spot and quickly retreat when brown eyes peer into yours.

"Lucy,” He calls but you don't move.

"Luuuccy," This time it's sung but still no movement from you.

Releasing a deep breath, he tries to think of something that will make you happy.

"I guess I'll just have to find someone else to play with my hair." Shagging his shoulders, Eddie sighs sadly and drops his head.

"I can play with your hair?" You sniffle, face still shining with the wetness of your tears.

Craning his head back to you, he smiles softly and nods his head. In an instant your jumping up from the bed, clapping your hands together in happiness.

"So what kind of jobs do they have in Lucy Land?" Eddie asks, wincing slightly from your finger untangling a knot in his hair.

"Oh we have so many! I've been a fashion designer, model, singer, baker, doctor, and a ballerina!" Your fingers continue to intertwine sections of the curly brown hair, trying to be as delicate as possible.

"Then there's Lars, the one you remind me of, and he's an action star. Then there's Lance who is a race car drive. Linda is a teacher, Lorelai is a painter, Lily is a florist, and then there's Larry, he doesn't have a job."

"Why doesn't Larry have a job?" He asks, flinching slightly when you pull a little too hard for his liking.

"Cause he's Larry." You say nonchalantly.

Pulling the scrunchie from Eddie's wrist, you tie off the first braid before moving on to the next one.

"What's your job?" It's an innocent question but it still makes him choke on his drink.

"I ugh, I uh work in sales?" It's the best answer he can come up with, not wanting to explain what drug dealing means to your innocent ears.

You continue to tug on his hair, pulling and twisting strands. "What's that?"

"I sell things." Blood rushes to the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks.

"Like what?"

Eddie would rather deal with the yanking of his hair than answer this question. He racks his brain for an answer, letting a small pause settle over the conversation.

"I sell brownies to people." Doing his best to shrug, embarrassment sinking to the pit of his stomach.

"Oh my golly!!! I love making brownies," You gasp and then pause for a moment, "but in my world our ovens and food are fake, so I wouldn't know how to do it in your world."

"Wait, so what do you eat?" Eyebrows are pinched together in confusion.

"Oh Eddie, you're so silly." You giggle, reaching for his other wrist that adorns the pink scrunchie.

Tying the end of his braid, you pat his shoulders gently, "All done."

The lanky boy stretches from his position on the floor, knees creaking from the movements. Walking over to his mirror, calloused fingers run over the french braids, shocked by how neat they are.

"Wow," he whispers, "They look really good, doll." Eyes still trailing over his hair, head moving side to side making sure to see every angle.

"They look so good because I had such a pretty model." Your lips are sprawled out into a smile.

Eddie finds himself blushing again, bats swarming around in his tummy and heart skipping multiple beats. Trying his best to shake it off, he claps his hands together and spins to face you.

"How about I make you my famous mac and cheese for payment?"

"Who knew food could be so good?" A satisfied sigh falls from your lips.

"Yeah, who would've thought?" Eddie snorts, sarcasm soaking his words.

Leaning back onto the couch, your eyes flutter shut in contentment. Your hands sit folded on top of your belly, shoeless feet propped up on the coffee table in front of you.

Eddie lets you enjoy your food coma, picking up the empty bowls and walking them to the sink. He decides it would be better if he washes them now, not wanting Wayne to get home and bitch him out for having a full sink.

Once the dishes are done and dried, he walks back into the small living room and is met with the sight of you sleeping. Long eyelashes fall on the tops of your cheeks, your permanent smile still sits on your pretty glossed lips, and small snores falling from your nose.

For a moment he just looks at you, eyes following the lines of your features for the first time all day. When you first showed up, he could see that you were pretty and during the mall trip he'd find little details he hadn't noticed before, but right now he's really taking his time to admire you.

You're so beautiful, flawless really, and man did he get lucky having you crash into his life. You're a doll, something that's made of plastic, but nothing about you screams fake. You're so sweet and kind, always quick to accept whatever apology he gives you when he's been shitty.

Your spirit and energy shines brightly through you, bringing light to the darkness of his reality like the sun coming out on a cloudy day. You're all pink and sparkles, glitter and fluff, while he's black and spikes. For all the bad in the world, you remind Eddie of all the good.

He doesn't hate you, in fact he likes you and he wants to have you around for a bit longer. He wants to be friends with you, teach you about the real world and everything it has to offer. For the first time today Eddie realizes that this might not be so bad, not when he gets to relive all the cool things in life with you by his side.

Stalking over to you, he gently shakes your shoulder. "Luce, hey Lucy. Come on, s'time to wake up."

Squinting from the harsh yellow lighting of the room, your lips pout slightly from the rude intrusion of your slumber.

"Come on, Luce. We're gonna go to bed now." Holding out a hand to you, Eddie helps you stand up from the couch.

"I don't have jammies." You sound like a small child, voice quiet and hushed from how tired you are.

"What did you get at the mall then?" Leading you to the edge of the bed, he helps you sit down.

"I bought cute clothes to wear during the day." You shrug, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand.

"Of course you did." It's quiet enough so you can't hear, fingers rubbing hard over his forehead. "Alright, well I have something you can wear."

Digging through his drawers, Eddie finds an old Hellfire shirt and a pair of sweatpants from high school he doesn't wear anymore. Walking back over to you, he hands you the clothes and instructs you to change when he leaves the room and to call for him when you're done.

When your groggy voice echoes from behind the closed door, he slowly creeps in. You're still sitting in the same spot now wearing his clothes.

"Everything fit okay?" You nod, eyes growing heavier the longer you're up.

"Good, good. Well let me help you," Eddie leans over you, trying to fluff up the pillows the best that he can. Pulling the covers back, he tucks you into place.

"I'll be sleeping on the couch, so if you need anything just call my name and I'll be back." Giving you a tight lipped smile, he turns to shut the bedside lamp off.

"Eds?" Your voice cuts off his actions. "Can you sleep in here with me?" You blink up at him tiredly, still as beautiful as ever.

"How about I sleep on the floor next to you? Is that okay?" Eddie offers and you quickly accept with a sleepy smile and a lazy nod.

"Okay let me grab some extra blankets from the closet and change, then I'll be in." He reassures and you wiggle around in a tiny dance making his chuckle.

"Hey Eddie," Again you cut his movements short, "Thanks for being my best friend. I like being here with you." Your smile is shy, fingers nervously picking at the frayed edges of the blanket.

"I like being with you too. Thanks for being my best friend." The two of you beam at one another, letting the warmth of your budding friendship sink into both of you.

Leaving the room Eddie makes sure to shut the door behind him. Before he digs for any kind of blanket, he moves to the phone that sits on the wall. Punching the numbers fast, he looks back to make sure you haven't left your spot.

After a few rings, the other line finally picks up to his relief.

"I know it's late but ugh," He checks the door one more time just in case, "Forget what I said earlier. Yeah, she's gonna be staying here for a bit longer."

After hanging up the phone and grabbing whatever he needed, he heads back into the room where you're now sound asleep. Throwing a pillow to the floor, he shuts off the light and lays down.

For a moment it's quiet, the darkness of the room lulling him to sleep quickly. Before his eyes slam shut, your arm snakes out from under the blanket, your awaiting palms sitting there for him. Without hesitation, he grabs on and holds it for dear life.

Yeah, having you around won't be so bad.

Thank you guys for reading! love you all <3

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#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #honey's birthday bash #honey's holiday celebrations

[chlorinecake]

Love On A Leash | 심재윤 𓇢𓆸

summary • You offer to dog-sit Jake’s energetic pet border collie as a means to get closer to him. But how will he react when he finds out you forgot to feed her while he was gone?

pairing • next door neighbor!jake x reader • word count • 3.6k genre next door neighbor au, fluff • warnings language, jake and reader have a minor argument, suggestive themes, kissing

YOU FELT LIKE cursing your mother for making you do this.

It was currently 7am as you stood outside your next door neighbor’s front porch with a basket of assorted muffins in hand. The gesture was supposed to be a housewarming gift on behalf of your 'humble community,' your mother tasking you with delivering the treats while she got ready for work although she was already running late.

Your dilemma had nothing to do with her act of kindness, but everything to do with the very moment your dangerously lovesick eyes landed on your new neighbor, Sim Jake.

It goes without saying that he was good-looking, and attractive guys were no more to you than kryptonite is to superman; a crippling weakness. You were already whipped for Jake as is, creating a file filled with all of the things you either learned or observed about him over the past two weeks.

You hadn't even been standing at his porch for 15 seconds before your feet struggled to stay put, tempted to abandon ship and just tell your mom that no one was home.

Maybe he won't even answer, you tried comforting yourself.

What kind of a 20 year old guy would be up this early, anyways?

The door knob twisted as a muffled yawn met your ears, the door creaking open to reveal none other than Jake himself.

He was dressed in his pajamas, sporting a severe case of bedhead that he somehow pulled off.

“Hello?” He said with a groggy yet friendly accent.

“Hi! I’m your next door neighbor's daughter, ____. Here's a welcoming gift from our family to yours,” you forced a smile, handing him the basket.

“Wow, this is really sweet of you guys,” he thanked with a toothy smile, but you stood awkwardly.

“My name is Jake, by the way," he said while giving you a handshake, trying to break the tense physical barrier.

"Glad we could finally meet," you returned, "My mom talks about your family all the time. All good things, of course."

“Yeah, apparently she and my dad knew each other in high school… but now I’m curious. How much do you know?”

“Well, I know you’re from Brisbane and recently moved here for college! Oh, and you’re a huge dog lover, especially of golden retriever’s, like the one you have? Hmm, aren’t you an athlete? I think I’ve seen you in a tracksuit befo-”

“Those are all things about me, silly, not my family,” he giggled, running a hand through his locks.

Buzz.

Jake set the basket down on the table behind him, reaching in his pocket to analyze whatever just popped up on his phone screen. You wondered if he had a girlfr-

"Hm," he hummed, taking a step back into his house.

"I should get going now. Thanks again for the gift! I hope to see you around more often.”

“Well, its not like we can really avoid each other, anyways,” you said, drawing his attention to the brief distance between your two houses.

He blushed at the realization, "Give me a break, ____, I’m not usually up this early. And for the record, Layla’s a border collie!" He exclaimed before closing the door.

Updated Mental Note: (1) Jake’s dad knew your mom in high school, (2) Jake isn’t a morning person, (3) Jake’s dog is a border collie [confirmed].

Surprisingly, that interaction wasn't nearly as painful as you expected it to be.

Jake was chill.

Attractive, yes, but somehow, you survived. Trailing back from his porch to your house, you walked inside to find your mother fastening a pair of heels around her ankles before standing up to meet you. “How do I look? Is my hair okay? Wait, tell me, what did they say about the muffins?”

“You look great, mom! And their son answered, but he said he really appreciated it.”

“Oh, that’s great,” she smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “Alright, sweetie! Duty calls! I’ll see you at dinner!”

“See ya,” you waved before closing the door.

JAKE’S DAD HAD started giving him a hard time concerning the dog. After summer, Jake was busy most of the time with soccer practice and school, and so with two working parents, it was hard to keep up with Layla’s random outbursts.

“You either find someone to watch her or she’s going to the pound!” His dad scowled while picking up a few pillows that Layla chewed holes into. “She’s been with us for years, and even now after the move, Dad! We can’t just give her up for acting like a dog! She’s getting used to this change, too,” Jake argued back while sweeping up a pile of kibble she knocked over.

“I hear what you’re saying, but make sure you consider what I’ve said. I’m not sure how much longer your mother and I can take this.”

A few minutes after their conversation, Jake decided to go and play catch with Layla in the front yard.

“Come here girl, come here! Stop? Sit? Good doggy,” he praised, ruffling the fur on her back before giving her a treat. You were walking home from the bus stop when Jake pointed to one of the tennis balls Layla forget to fetch which you ended up tripping over, the books you were carrying now joining you on the pavement.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay!?” Jake said running over to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you spoke for your physical being as emotionally, you were an embarrassed wreck.

He helped you gather your textbooks and journals, “You’ll probably wanna put these in here.” He smiled, handing you the bag he used to carry Layla’s outdoor toys.

“No really, it’s alright, Jake. I should’ve brought my backpack with me.”

“No, I insist. Think if it as payment for the muffins,” he encouraged, neatly putting the books in the bag before tying it closed. Layla was busy bouncing around the two of you, trying to get Jake’s attention. A glint of playfulness sparkled in his eyes.

“Wanna try throwing the ball?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. Last time I tried something like that, I ended up having to replace a few things I could hardly afford.” Jake laughed at your honesty, taking your hand in his before closing your fingers around the ball. “Just give it a shot. Prove me wrong,” he winked.

You looked down bashfully, giving in while warming up your shoulders, “You might wanna stand back a bit unless you like getting hit in the balls.”

He giggled again, walking back a few steps, “You’re being too hard on yourself, silly! Just throw it!”

Taking a deep breath, you launched the tennis ball an impressive distance away from you, the excited cream dog chasing after it. “Holy shit! You’ve got the arm of a pro, ____!” Jake exclaimed, giving you a high five.

“Now, when she comes back, you give her this treat.” “With my hand?” “Of course! Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite the hand that feeds her.”

In a matter of seconds, Layla was already running back to you, dropping the drool-covered ball from her mouth before eating the dog biscuits from your hand, the texture of her tongue tickling your palm. “Good girl,” Jake chirped as he met you and Layla on the ground.

“How’d you come up with her name?”

“Layla? Hmm. I’ve never had someone ask me that before,” he admitted, moving to sit crisscross applesauce. “Let’s see… when I was a kid, my inspiration was pretty corny.”

“Corny can be cute sometimes,” you smiled.

“Well, when my family adopted her, she didn’t have a name yet. One of my favorite songs back then was Eric Clapton’s “Layla,” so I figured that’s what she’d be called.”

“Aww! That’s adorable!”

“You probably think everything I do is adorable.”

It was like a cat caught your tongue, leaving you speechless at his comment.

“Kidding,” he smiled, nudging your shoulder before a sad look waved over his features.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed, “It’s my dad. He wants me to get rid of Layla.”

“But why? Isn’t she like family to you?”

“That’s exactly what I told him! But he thinks she’s only become a burden now that I’m not around as much,” he frowned, watching Layla chase herself around a tree. “The pound’s not a place for a dog like Layla.”

You sat in thought, thinking of ways to comfort Jake that didn’t involve touching him. Then it hit you.

“I can dog-sit her for you.”

His eyes widened in shock at your offer, resembling a cute puppy, “You'd seriously do that for me? Do you have experience?”

“Obviously,” you scoffed dishonestly, “look how comfortable we are with each other. I’m a natural at this.”

“Wow, I really appreciate this. I’ll pay you fifteen dollars per hour starting tomorrow from 11am to 3pm, and then-“

“Jake, I don’t want your money," you giggled, not even realizing that your hand rested on his exposed thigh, "I just wanna help.”

He smiled, “Okay, then. But if you ever feel like backing out, don't hesitate to let me know! Trust me, I won't be disappointed, Layla can be a handful.”

“Gotchya,” you replied, tossing another tennis ball for his dog to fetch, “How should I contact you?”

“Uhhh, I’ll just give you my phone number. Do you have a pen with you?”

“Yeah, right here,” you said, handing him the pen from your pocket.

Jake wrote his number on your wrist. “Perfect,” he chirped, rubbing a thumb over the writings.

“I’ll text you my schedule and everything once I hear from you again, see you around, neighbor!”

“See you!” You returned, both of you going back to your respective houses, the bliss of each other still fresh on your faces.

TO YOUR LUCK, your first day as a dog-sitter was going swimmingly well so far. Jake outlined a simple list of things for you to follow while he was away, tasks ranging from dog-walks to bathroom breaks making up most of the next few hours of your day.

Before Jake left, all you could remember was him saying something about a bag of dog food either in the fridge or pantry, but you were too distracted by the grey sweatpants he wore to successfully pay attention. So, you improvised by intuition.

What would I eat if I was a dog, you asked yourself, searching for any cooked proteins in Jake's fridge, only to find a pack of bacon bits.

Hmm, this could work.

Layla was waiting for her meal patiently by her empty feeding bowl as you moved to explore the pantry, pulling out a few marshmallows and graham crackers to add to the mix. Pouring the contents into her bowl, you gave her a few head scratches before she dove in, munching up every last bite.

"Looks like I've created a culinary masterpiece," you smiled, "I'll call it "____'s Canine Trail Mix," approved by the likes of Sim Layla and many more."

JAKE SHOWED UP about twenty minutes later, greeting you before asking about Layla.

"Everything went great," you beamed, taking him to the couch she laid tiredly on.

“What’s wrong with her? Did she just wake up from a nap?”

“I don't know, I just got out of the bathroom.”

“Did you walk her?”

“Of course, for two hours like you said.”

“Hmm. Did she play with her toys at all?”

“A little bit, but she didn’t seem interested after eating."

“Maybe you gave her too much food. How many scoops of kibble did she get?”

“What?" You asked, initially confused at the mentioning of kibble until you remembered what Jake was trying to tell you before he left: Layla gets 2 scoops of kibble for lunch with a few sausages from the fridge.

“How much food did you give Layla?” He repeated.

“Jake.”

“What?”

“I forgot to feed her.”

His jaw dropped, “You’re joking.”

"Well, I did feed her, but I forgot about the kibble. I gave her a bowl of bacon bits, graham crackers, and marshmallows instead."

Jake paced back and forth, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "What kind of a person with 'dog experience' decides to feed them marshmallows of all things? A whole ass bowl full?”

"I'm not following," you admitted timidly.

"Connect the dots, would ya?" He spat, trying to control his breathing.

"How was I supposed to know dogs can’t eat marshmallows?"

"Dog's don't eat common human foods, ____, that’s a no-brainer! I thought you said you had experience with this kind of thing," he frowned, meeting Layla on the couch to comfort her aching state.

You kept your distance from him, "I lied to you, Jake. I’m an amateur when it comes to this stuff."

He scoffed disappointedly, "Why would you lie about something like that, ____?"

"I- I just…I wanted to help you! You seemed really upset about the whole thing with your dad and I- it felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

"Well, for future reference, lying never helps."

You swallowed the dryness that grew in your throat, "I’m really sorry, Jake. Is there anything that I can do to help? Maybe get her some medicine?"

"No, ____, you’ve done enough already. I’ll see you around."

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you simply grabbed your things and walked towards the door, the sounds of Layla's guttural wrenching making you cringe in shame and disgust.

Updated mental note: (1) Dogs can’t eat marshmallows, (2) Lying never fixes situations, (3) Jake probably hates you now [pending confirmation]

IT WAS A few days after the dog-sitting situation when you were studying on your front lawn, completely mesmerized by the view of Jake as he worked out in his garage. You felt guilty for ogling after everything that happened, but you couldn't fight your hormonally induced urges.

He was pushing out his third set of bench presses, fluffy brown hair framing his cheekbones. He screwed his eyes shut from the intensity, biting his lower lip as he tried to push through the resistance of his fatigue arms.

He glanced over quickly as sweat started to drip in his eyes. You stared back at him like a deer in the headlights at the realization that you’d been caught peeking. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, struggling to handle the weight. “__-____?!” He stuttered your name breathlessly, losing his grip. “JAKE!”

You ran faster than your legs have ever carried you, adrenaline kicking in as you slid the left weight off of the rod, jumping onto his lap to avoid the iron disc from smashing your foot. “Ugh,” he groaned in relief as you reached to slide the other weight off, unintentionally pressing yourself into him.

That sound might replay in your mind forever.

Gripping the rod in your hand, you looked down to see both your own and Jake’s veiny hands holding onto the pole for dear life. Then you looked down, realizing that you were sitting straight on his bulge.

“Oh my God, sorry!” You yelped, leaping off of his sweaty frame. He giggled at your apology, feeling embarrassed himself but for different reasons.

“It’s alright, ____, you probably just saved my life there,” he said, now sitting up on the bench. He gave you a look before continuing. “Why were you stalking me?”

“Me? I-“

“I’m not upset, or anything. Did you wanna tell me something?”

“No, I was just… I didn’t mean to-"

Layla's barking from inside the house cut you off mid sentence. You were just now noticing the pink paint stains on his shirt, a few drops decorating the private area of his sweatpants.

Similarly to a puppy, Jake forgot all about what you were just talking about, getting up to fix the equipment. “You’re really fast, y’know? What other secret athletic talents do you have?”

You smiled awkwardly, “Well, if you ever tried tickling me, I might become a professional kickboxer.”

Jake laughed at your joke like he always did. You swore that if he blessed your ears with his beautiful laugh one more time, you might explode.

“Maybe you should spot me sometime,” he said, fastening the ring weight back on the rod.

Your eyes fell to the paint stains on his paints. “I’m sorry?”

“Spot me. Like when I’m weightlifting. You seem pretty keen to watching out for me, anyways.”

You could feel heat rushing through every part of your body. “Of course, anything for a neighbor,” you smiled, trying to redirect his flirting for the sake of your own existence.

Layla barked even louder this time, Jake sighing before heading to his garage door. For some reason you followed him, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m washing white clothes, so if you have anything light colored on, throw it in the machine,” Jake’s mom yelled from the kitchen at the sound of him entering the house.

“Alright,” he called back, taking off his sweaty white t-shirt and tossing it into the washer. He reached over to press a few buttons on the machine, the muscles in his arm flexing with each movement. He trailed from the washroom, you still following closely behind.

“It’s a maze in here,” you said, marveling at how big his house was.

“I feel the same way sometimes,” he giggled, taking your hand in his to guide you. 

You just remembered that he came in here to look for Layla, so you listened out, trying to help him find her.

“Oh,” you said, stopping Jake in his tracks as you pointed to a four legged shadow running around underneath a closed door, “she’s right here.”

He turned, “What? How’d she get in my bedroom?” Jake walked towards the door, twisting the handle to reveal Layla chasing her tail in a circle.

“You’re so silly, Layla,” he smiled, running a hand through her thick blonde fur. “She’s doing such much better now,” you commented, meeting Jake and his dog on the floor.

“Yeah, she was totally fine after getting that stuff out of her system. Don't worry, though, she told me she forgives you," he smiled.

"And what about you?"

"Of course, ____. I don't think I could over hold a grudge against you."

Layla hopped on your lap, licking at your hands. You would’ve been grossed out if it wasn’t Jake’s dog. Her tongue tickled your palms as she panted in excitement, “I wish I had this much energy on a daily basis,” you beamed, Jake returning a grin himself.

“I think she just really likes you,” he replied. “With all of those kisses, you must taste pretty nice.”

“Maybe you’ll have to try sometime,” you said, not even realizing how suggestive your comment was. Jake grabbed a random tennis ball from the floor before tossing it out of the room, “Go fetch,” he ordered, Layla chasing after the ball.

A sparkle twinkled in his eye before he lead your face towards his by your chin. He noticed that you looked nervous, but decided to take his chances and kiss you anyway, all of your nerves melting away at the softness of his lips. You felt his hand grip at the side of your neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Kicking your foot, you closed the door slightly, falling on your back for him to take the lead. His lips broke from yours with a pop as your cold hands snuck around his bare waist. He hummed at the feeling, leaning in to kiss down your neck.

His breath was so hot against your skin, sweet sounds escaping your mouth from all the action. That’s when you two heard Layla trailing back to his room, returning to the positions you were sat in before Layla left. She barged through the door, slobbery tennis ball between her jaws as she dropped before Jake. “Good girl,” he cheered, fluffing at her fur.

You felt the aftermath of your kiss like a wave, exhausting yet refreshing.

You felt Jake.

His kiss was like water, crashing and roaring, yet emotional and gentle. You couldn’t tell, but he still felt a wave that hit him, too.

He felt you.

Your hands modest and shy, yet your lips eager and passionate. 

Layla barked for what sounded like her loudest one thus far. “I’ve gotta go walk Layla,” Jake said, sounding happy yet simultaneously like he’d rather be doing something else. Fastening a leash around Layla's collar, he trailed out of his room. You reached on his dresser and grabbed a shirt for him to wear on his way out.

His mom was no longer in the kitchen, but you decided to be polite anyways. “Bye, Mrs. Sim!” You could hear her returning the salutation from some part of the maze-like house, making your heart feel warm. Jake walked through garage and stopped at the driveway, having locked all the doors before exiting the house.

“Thanks for stopping by, ____,” he smiled, flashing you a look so intense, you might fall over. “Anytime,” you returned, handing him the shirt you’d been carrying. You don’t know when it happened, but you didn’t feel awkward in front of his shirtless frame anymore. “Aww,” he giggled, “I didn’t even realize I was still shirtless.”

He was so puppy-like that you couldn't help but adore him. Layla starting running, Jake loosing grip of her leash while distracted by you. “Layla!” He called after her before running to catch up himself.

“I gotta go now. Bye, ____!” He yelled as he ran after his excited dog. “Bye, Jake,” you called out while waving, even though he didn’t see you.

You walked back to your house, talking your shoes off at the front door before heading upstairs to your bedroom. You knew you didn’t wanna leave Jake's side yet, but you had other things to work on at home in the meantime.

Things like sharing with your diary that you and Sim Jake just kissed.

𐂯‎ This piece was created to mark TODAY, my official first month on as a Tumblr creator!!!! Thank you all so much for reading this piece! Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it :3

𐂯 Feel free to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!

𐂯‎ Taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @yngwife @sussyjake @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @stinkoscope @03sunoos @4imhry @rickysblkgf

#jake ff #jake x reader #reader x jake #enhypen #enha imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen ff #enha ff #enha scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen suggestive #jake sim fluff #jake sim imagines #jake enhypen #enhypen jake #enhypen jake fluff #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jake ff #sim jake au #enhypen crack #enha fluff #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun imagines #jake sim

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Johnny, Baby

Summary: Based on the lore release, this short is written from the perspective of Johnny as a toddler when his mom knocks on Nancy's door.

Word count: 970

Warnings: Johnny is a toddler and watches his mom die... So there's that

Mama’s left eye is fluffy and purple. She tells me it's okay, but daddy says it isn't. Daddy says mommy is a bitch. Daddy says he wishes we weren't his problem to deal with, that he'd be better off without deadweight like us.

Mama is crying, she takes my hand and I barely have time to grab my stuffed dog Blackie before she lifts me onto her hip and storms outside in a flurry of tears, refusing to look back when daddy yells, “Where the hell do you think you're goin’, dumb slut?!”

“Away from you!” She screams in return. The key to the beat-up old car forms an indent in her palm as she hurriedly buckles me into my car seat.

“Not with my son you ain't!” The angry rumble of my dad's baritone rattles in the back of my skull. I clutch Blackie tighter.

“Mama?” My lower lip trembles, fear reflected in my dark brown eyes.

Mama hurries into the front seat, slamming the creaky door closed and locking it. She turns on the car then looks back at me, her dark hair wild.

“It'll be okay, baby,” she says in a soft, soothing tone.

And I believe her, my nerves slowly untangling.

CRACK! The sound makes me jump in place. When I look up, the windshield is sprayed with a collection of delicate spiderwebs.

Daddy stands outside of the car, jiggling the handle. In his left hand, he holds a baseball bat. When the door fails to open, he reels back to hit the windshield again.

Mama slams on the gas, peeling out of the driveway. Daddy throws the baseball bat at us—it glances off the left rearview mirror, which now hangs by a wire.

Before now, I felt frozen, in a daze. But now, the feelings bowl me over. I scream and wail, and mama tries to help but I can't hear her over the blood rushing behind my little ears. It's a good thing Blackie isn't alive or I would be squeezing the life out of him right now.

“We'll find help baby, I promise, please Johnny stop crying,” she says, her own tears beginning to flow. She drives too quickly for someone half-blinded without any real direction, but she can't slow down. We aren't safe yet.

After a while, my tears subside to sniffles. Blackie is covered in tears and snot, but I cuddle him anyway.

“I'm lost, baby. We need to stop for directions,” mama says, pulling up in front of a beautiful house with rows of flowers.

“Mama!” I cry, holding out my chubby arms desperately. It took me so long to stop crying, mama doesn't want me to cry anymore. She reluctantly takes me from my car seat, and I cling to her so tightly she barely has to help hold me. Blackie dangles by a paw from my fist, swinging as we approach the front door and knock.

Almost instantly, as if she'd been watching us from the window, a woman with curled black hair and glasses answers.

“Lost, sugar? Wouldn't be the first to stumble up to my house,” she says.

“Yes ma’am. We just need directions, then we can get out of your hair.”

The woman's eyes dart from mama's purpled face to my still-red one. “Sure, sure. I can help you. Come on in!” She steps aside, her eyes glued to me as we enter. “I’m Nancy. And who is this little cutie?”

“His name is Johnny, I'm Judith. Nice to meet you,” mama says, but Nancy didn't seem to register her name. She's entirely engrossed in me, to the point where mama shifts me to her other side, trying to provide a barrier between her and I while looking around the house.

This visibly upsets Nancy, who gives mama a scowl she barely manages to conceal before mama looks back over to her as she finishes locking the complicated door lock. “Go on and sit down. Want some tea?” She asks, heading for the kitchen as mama takes a hesitant seat at the dining room table, me on her lap.

“We just need directions to the nearest hotel, no tea thank you,” she says, her leg bouncing anxiously beneath me.

Nancy comes back with a tray and two teacups. Mama raises her hand to wave Nancy's tea glass off, but instead Nancy pulls a knife from under the tray and slices her palm open.

Blood pours onto her pristine carpet, and I burst into tears.

“Gimme that baby and I might let you die quick!” Nancy hollers, lunging for me. Mama quickly turns me away, and when Nancy misses, mama jabs the car key between her knuckles deep into Nancy's left eye.

Nancy howls like a banshee, eye jelly running down her cheek. She starts swinging wildly, and Mama throws her chair back and stands, clutching me and backing away from Nancy.

“You get back here you stupid bitch! Ain't no way you can open that door lock!” Nancy screams, stumbling over the chair in her path.

“Johnny,” mama says, setting me down. I look up at her desperately, my entire body shaking. “Johnny baby, you have to hide. Someone will see our car and-”

Nancy’s hand reaches around mama’s shoulder, dragging a blade across her neck. A red streak follows the knife, and red rains down on me, splattering over my blue truck shirt and soaking Blackie even worse. Mama's eyes go glassy, and my little legs give out as I collapse to the floor.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Nancy says, picking me up and cradling me against her chest.

And I don't believe her.

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre #fanfiction

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for arguing with my mom over cameras?

For context, my (19F) mother (40sF) lives alone a majority of the time. She divorced my father (40sM) years ago and so she has split custody with him of me and my brother (15M).

Recently I arrived home from work to find a home-security camera facing towards the entryway to the house. I thought this was weird. I went upstairs to the living room and there was another camera in there, this one facing the couch. Uncomfortable, I turned it around so it faced the wall. When my mother came upstairs, I asked her about the cameras, and she said the one downstairs is for security- she lives alone, she wants to see who comes in and out of the house. The one upstairs, she said, was so she can watch our dog (12M) when she's not home.

I took issue with the cameras because I think they're a major invasion of privacy. At my dad's house, he also has lots of cameras and motion-activated lights set up around all corners of the outside of the house, because he's paranoid about intruders. I hate his cameras and lights, as it makes the house feel like a prison, and I can't leave or arrive without him seeing. I've tried talking to him about his cameras, but he won't listen, even when I tell him he's way overstepping in his guarding against "intruders".

My mom also thinks my dad is ridiculous with his cameras, but now I feel she's doing something similar with hers, except worse since they're inside the house. I told her the cameras (especially the one in the living room facing the couch) made me feel like my privacy was being invaded. I asked her, if she was so worried about intruders, why she doesn't lock her door (that's another thing- a majority of the time my mom leaves her front door unlocked). She told me she does lock her door, and that she's more worried about people breaking in at night while she's sleeping, or during the day while she's away (even though we live in a safe area where this hardly ever happens and her apartment is pretty hidden from the road). She also told me it's so she can check to see if my grandparents are entering the house without her permission since they have a set of keys, but that's another can of worms entirely. Basically, she has the camera because it gives her peace of mind.

I asked her why have one in the living room, since the dog has been fine all day by himself for years. She said because he's getting older she's worried about him. She also said she's worried about having people she doesn't know in the house to watch him-apparently she thinks the dogwatchers we hire when we go on trips are going to hurt the dog? I'm really not sure. She said she wants to be able to check on the dog to make sure he's not anxious during the day, but I asked her even if he was anxious, what could she do about it if she's not home? She works 8 hour days 5 days a week. If she sees the dog is anxious, she can't just drop everything and run home to check on him. I think the camera would make her anxiety over the dog worse. My philosophy is what she doesn't see, she can't worry about.

I told her she sounded super paranoid, and that I thought the cameras were an invasion of my privacy, since I know that home-security cameras can get hacked by bad actors, and also I didn't want her watching me enter the house and hang out in the living room. She told me I could just unplug the camera in the living room when I got home, which yeah, I can do, but still. It's a camera in the house. I don't like that. I'm already watched on cameras at work, I don't want to be watched by cameras at home.

Anyway, this whole thing devolved into a big argument that led to her saying me and my brother make her feel bad about herself as a parent because we "always argue with her about things she wants instead of being supportive" and just generally making me feel bad for even saying anything.

Maybe I'm the asshole here. I understand her point of view- it is scary living alone, but I hate cameras and I don't want to live in a surveillance state in my own home. I don't feel like I'm being unreasonable here, but maybe I am. I want her to feel safe in her own home, and if this is how she feels safe I suppose I should just accept it... idk.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

Paw Patrol Appreciation Week 2024

Monday - The Beginning

For my very first Paw Patrol Week, I'm picking my good boy who looks like me in every way, Rocky!

To go along with this art, I made some sort of drabble which is divided in five parts (I swear it's a coincidence with Rocky's vehicle number, I didn't plan on that XD). I'll put it under the cut because it's kinda long ahsushshshshs

Anyway I hope you like it!!

As soon as she got there and placed the bag down, five small pups perked up and came out of the shadows inside the shelter. The first one was mostly light gray in color, with nearly white paws and tail tip, sniffing the air, while the others waited just behind.

The Beginning

Lightning flashed the night sky in the town. A dark gray stray dog ran through a couple streets under the rainstorm, bringing a plastic bag in her mouth. She entered a darker alley between an old restaurant and a residential building, going to the far end of it and depositing the bag on the floor, in front of an improvised shelter made of bricks, pieces of broken furniture and some cardboard and wood planks.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, dear.” The dog smiled. “I’m sorry your mommy’s smelling funny now. Had to go look for food somewhere else. Did you take care of your siblings while I was out, like I asked?”

“I did!” The gray pup puffed up his chest, proud. “No one got lost today.”

Another lightning strike, followed by a powerful thunder roar. The pup rushed back into their shelter, terrified. “Make the rain stop!”

The other pups glanced incredulously at him. “It’s just water.”

“I don’t wanna die like…” The gray pup shut up. He didn’t wanna die like their white and brown sibling, drowning during a flood just a few days ago.

“Shh… It’s okay.” Their mom went inside and laid down, beckoning them all closer to her. “We’re safe here. You built us a very good dog house in a higher place exactly for this reason, remember? Always remember this, my dear. We’re in a no flood zone now. The water won’t reach us here.”

********************

“Hey mom! Look what I found!” 

The gray pup came running across the park to meet his mom, who was lying down under one of the trees. The other pups were playing around. She looked up, curious.

“What do you have there?”

“I found this funny rock while hiding in the hide and seek game. It has a lock in it and looks like a ball! Can I keep it?”

The mother took a closer look at the rock and smiled. “Oh, it’s a geode!”

“Ah what?”

“A geode. It’s a very cool kind of treasure, here, let me show you.” She investigated the lock more closely, frowning. “Hmm, it’s really closed. Do you think you can find a way to open this lock?”

“Sure!” The gray pup grinned and ran away. “I’ll be back soon!”

A few minutes later, he was back holding an old worn out screwdriver in his mouth. With a determined look, he picked at the lock with it until they heard a clicking sound and the geode opened in half.

That was the most beautiful thing the pup had ever seen! Inside the rock, there were so many green crystals, shining in the sunlight.

“Sometimes, nature plays pranks on us.” His mom chuckled. “Just like this. If anyone would look, they’d just see a round rock. But inside, it’s hiding a cool shiny treasure.”

“Like how people look at you and think you’re just a stray dog but have no idea you’re the best mom ever?” He grinned, earning a laugh from her. 

“Or maybe like you, who is actually so much smarter and more intelligent than most dogs I’ve ever known, and you’re not even six months old yet.”

********************

“Pups, we need to go.”

They found it weird. Their mother seemed scared. What could be bad enough to make her scared?

The gray pup stepped up ahead of the others. “What’s happening?”

“I heard the restaurant owner talking on the phone just a minute ago. He’s calling animal control. Quick, we need to get away from here now!”

“What’s animal control?” A black and white pup asked, confused.

“It’s a car with bad people. They capture dogs and other animals on the streets, and take them away. No one ever escaped after being captured. We never saw anyone coming back alive.”

That made all five pups share a startled glance. The gray pup jumped out of the shelter and turned to the others. “Come on! We already lost our sister, we can’t let them take us now too!”

All pups and their mother were about to leave from their alley, when a van stopped just in front of them and two men stepped out, staring at them.

“I think these are the dogs we gotta catch today?” One asked, picking up a long stick with a lasso on one end of it.

“Mostly pups. This will be easy.” The other replied, holding up a net. “You catch the mother, I’ll get the pups.”

********************

It had been five days and the gray pup was almost giving up. After being the only one to narrowly escape capture, he had run until he was out of the town, hiding in the woods. Without trash bins or dumpsters around, he had no idea where to look for food…

He kept walking until he found a dirt road.

“Maybe this will take me to another town.” He considered. “I can find food there…”

Now he was so weak already, and there was still no sign of another town anywhere near! Sometimes he had to get out of the road to not get hit by eventual cars driving by. More than twice he had to hide from hungry eagles or bears. He couldn’t continue like this…

The sun was so strong. He stopped walking and sat down on the dry grass beside the road. Looking up, he thought he saw something in the distance… Maybe another town? He couldn’t be sure, his vision was so distorted now. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed to the ground and closed his eyes. That was it…?

The last thing he heard was the noise of yet another vehicle passing by… But this one stopped.

He heard a dog barking.

And then, nothing.

********************

The first thing he felt was… Cold.

No, not really. He wasn’t cold. He felt… Refreshed…? How was that possible?

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

He was lying on some kind of… Cooling mat? Daring to lift his head, he looked around.

He seemed to be in a big room. The walls were decorated with silhouettes of pups, bones and paw prints. Some colorful big pillows and beanbags were scattered on the floor. Just in front of him, there was a bowl filled with–

“Water!” He rasped as he hurried to crawl over and just dive his snout in the bowl, drinking it like there was no tomorrow. So fresh and clean, much unlike the rain puddles from where he last drank the day before! They tasted so bad and were so hot under the sun…

“Oh, you’re awake!”

This other voice startled the pup and he sat up, looking to the direction it came from.

Another pup approached, coming through the front door. He had brown fur, with light caramel colored face, underbelly and paws. This pup was soon followed by two others, one was white with a few black spots and the other was entirely cream colored and smaller than the first two.

The gray pup felt scared. What if it was their home and he wasn’t supposed to be here…?

The brown pup stopped his approach, keeping a bit of a distance from him. The other two watched curiously from both his sides, as he spoke again with a smile.

“You don’t need to be afraid! We’re not gonna hurt you. This water is for you, we figured you’d be thirsty when you would wake up.”

“... Where am I?”

“You’re in the Lookout tower of the Paw Patrol!” The spotted pup spoke now too, wagging his tail. “It’s our home! Isn’t it cool?”

“I was running an errand with Ryder, our owner, when we found you by the roadside.” The brown pup explained. “You passed out and seemed very weak. How are you feeling now?”

“... A bit better.” The gray pup eyed the water bowl. “Is it really for me…?”

“Yes. There’s more if you want.”

“Are you hungry too?” The spotted pup asked him, but didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll get some snacks!”

They watched as the pup rushed to a food dispenser on the far opposite side of the room and pressed a button, making the food come out in another bowl. Then he pushed this bowl with dog food and placed it next to the water one, with a big smile. The gray pup looked up at them with relief and tried the food.

It tasted… So good?? He avidly went down on it, earning a chuckle from the spotted pup, who now backed away to give him space and sat down beside the brown pup again.

“My name is Chase.” The brown pup spoke again. “These are Marshall and Skye. What’s your name?”

“Name…?” The pup paused eating, thoughtful.

It just occurred to him that he didn’t have a name. Coming to think of it, he never knew his mother’s name either, only ever calling her “mom”, “mommy”, and so on.

But he couldn’t leave them hanging. A name…

Then he remembered something.

That special rock with green crystals he had found. He liked it so much. It was one of the things he missed the most after having to run away from his hometown, aside from his family.

“... My name is… Rocky.”

#PawPatrolWeek24 #WHY YES I ACTUALLY SPENT SOME BRAINCELLS HERE #Paw Patrol #Patrulha Canina #Rocky #Paw Patrol Rocky #Paw Patrol Headcanons #Paw Patrol Fanart

[togglesbloggle]

Free Will is a Value Statement

When I was a kid, we had a dog.  It didn’t go well.

This particular dog- one of several in my childhood, and the only time it went awry- loved us very much, and we loved him too.  But when it came to strangers, he was very aggressive, and very dangerous, and not fully under our control.  We’d have to lock him up when there were visitors to the house, and even then it was less ‘barking’ and more ‘baying of hounds’, and unlike some animals he didn’t suddenly turn nice when he was in the same room with them.  And he was large, much too large for this to be safe.  Things came to a head when my mom was taking him for a walk and he started threatening a small kid playing in their own yard, and she came back terrified that if he ever got out, somebody would be badly hurt.

I remember quite clearly the conversation where my parents told me we couldn’t keep him.  They’d made the unfortunate choice to feed me cookies at the same time, to make the bad news go down easier; the net result is that there’s a specific brand of cookies that, to this day, I still can’t eat.  They just turn to ashes in my mouth.

(The good news is that, against all odds, it seems the ‘farm upstate’ that they sent him to was actually real.  They literally saved the receipts, so that when I got old enough to realize what that kind of story usually meant, they could give me proof that they hadn’t lied.  He did live what I believe to be a happy life in what was, more or less, a wild animal sanctuary.  Not all dangerous animals are so lucky, but sometimes, they are.)

The reason to dredge this up is to notice how unthinkable it was for any of us to call him ‘evil.’  Even when he was straining at the leash as hard as he could snarling and growling at a three year old, he wasn’t evil.  ‘Dangerous’, yes.  ‘Violent’, certainly.  But not that, not ever.

And that’s how it works, right?  We recoil at using the E-word for pets, young children, anyone that’s enough weaker than we are.  Evil-as-an-adjective is for peers and superiors, things which present a genuine threat to us.  You can watch this change for the natural world in real time- us moderns watch nature documentaries about predators avidly, and not as horror films, but our received culture still has ancient fairy tales about the ‘big bad wolf’ that date from before our conquest of Earth’s ecosystems.  What a difference a little power makes!  What was once a real and imminent fear, and a central figure in the atlas of evil, has withered away to a narrative archetype with no material referent, while the wolves themselves become objects of admiration and wonder, or a focus of conservation efforts, in direct proportion to our own sense of security against them.

And maybe you’re not the sort of person who thinks about evil much at all, which is honestly a pretty good strategy most of the time.  It can often obstruct thinking more often than it clarifies.  But even if you don’t, I’ll bet you still think about ‘justice’ a fair bit- and that follows the same rules, for about the same reasons.  The punitive and remunerative kinds of justice, anyway.  Was it some kind of punishment, to have that part of my family broken away when I was a child?  Was my dog’s loss and confusion something he deserved?  Of course not.  It was just- disharmony, I suppose.  We couldn’t find a way to put the world right, and so we suffered instead.

And yet when we reach a certain level of direct personal injury or threat of injury, especially by human causes- political enemies, alien people, angry mobs- then, almost without fail, we find ourselves reaching for this idea of justice.  (And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?) Show me, anywhere in the world, where a person has in all sincerity called for justice- and I’ll show you someone who feels weak.

Now, I can point at sentences like ‘my dog was not evil,’ and it should be pretty clear that I’m making a value statement, rather than expressing mundane factual belief in the same mold as ‘grass is green.’  That is, I’m not disputing any mechanism of action, or trying to explain why events occurred as they did.  I’m not giving you information you could use to prevent this from happening to you too, much as I hope you can.  I’m telling you how I feel, about what I want, about who I am.  I’m telling you about my grief.

Loosely speaking, you can imagine beliefs falling along a spectrum.  Don’t take this typology too seriously, it’s just a useful distinction to make for present purposes.  The first extreme of our spectrum is just the observational set of beliefs- the ‘sky is blue, grass is green’ category.  These are especially good for making plans that work, since they model a system that we usually want to work with in some capacity.  If you don’t want to fall off a cliff, it helps to have a good map. The second type is imperatives or value statements, beliefs about how to direct our efforts.  ‘Murder is bad’ is a belief like any other, but instead of telling us how to accomplish a goal, it tells us what goals we ought to have and what ends we should work towards.  (Moral realists will think of this second category as being a subset of the first; that’s perfectly reasonable but orthogonal to my point.).  Both types of belief are absolutely necessary for acting in the world: the means and the end, if you like.  

Here’s where I reveal my thesis:  When, honestly, was the last time you used the concept of free will to make a plan?

“People have free will” sure feels like a factual belief, from the inside.  It’s a description of who we are, right?  Like saying we usually have two legs, like saying the Earth goes around the Sun?  Only… it isn’t doing any of the things I do with factual beliefs.  It doesn’t make predictions, it doesn’t expand my capacity to act on the world.  If anything, ‘free will’ as a concept has a weird twisty negative definition (often something like ‘nonrandom indeterminacy’) that resists analysis of the reductive kind we usually use for this sort of thing.  

And if we look at how it’s positioned in the grand constellations of human thought, it’s awkwardly conjoined with a lot of the other things I’ve been talking about here.  Good, evil, justice.  I use my belief in free will a lot when I’m talking about culpability or praiseworthiness, when I’m deciding what to act towards, when to cheer and when to boo.  

I use it when I’m feeling weak.

Or, less personally, think about where ‘free will’ crops up in our court system.  And it does, in more than a few guises.  For example, altered states that compromise our volition are taken into account, and might even qualify as fully mitigating circumstances that tell the court not to punish the transgression.  (“I was not negligent on that construction site, your honor, I’m a diabetic and I was having a blood sugar crash.”)  In other cases, such as in murder charges, malice aforethought or planning the crime carefully might upgrade the sentence to be more harsh, whereas a crime ‘of passion’ might net fewer years in prison. (First-degree versus second-degree murder.)  What all of these have in common, notably, is in assessments of culpability, relevant to the question of how strongly the community wants to punish or condemn the situation.  But when it comes to the presentation of evidence, the chain of material observations that we use to establish confidence in the story of ‘what happened’, we invoke ‘motive’ instead- that is, we ask what benefits, inducements, insults, or other circumstances might have led the defendant to commit the act.  “Your honor, the accused is ordained with free will and is capable of choice,” is, notably, not considered sufficient to establish motive- but “your honor, the defendant was listed in the victim’s will as a primary recipient, and they were seen to have a large argument two days before the murder,” very much is.  Interesting discrepancy, no?  When we ask whether we should condemn others or show mercy, we care deeply about the defendant’s capacity to exercise free choice.  But when we ask material questions about what happened, trying to get a clear picture of the world as it is, we instead ask where the defendant is positioned in a causal web of material and social circumstances.

It’s hard, really hard, to reliably tell when our beliefs are about facts, describing things other than ourselves, and when they’re doing something else, paying rent in other ways.  But I notice, when I was a little kid crying in the car, I never once asked whether any of this was my dog’s fault.  It’s not that I didn’t know whether he had free will or not; it’s that it didn’t occur to me to ask.  I asked if it was my fault, certainly.  I’m sure my parents did too.  But we never asked if it was his, whether he’d decided to be this way.  That’s just not what ‘free will’ as a concept was for.

So, am I saying there’s “no such thing as free will” in the sense that I’m saying humans are fully deterministic and mechanistic?  Nah, not really.  To reiterate: I’m not saying that I have any confidence whatsoever that humans are deterministic, mechanical agents.  I think there’s plenty of room for consciousness to complicate the story of causality in ways I can’t anticipate; there’s every chance that human brains aren’t just billiard balls bouncing around in a universe running on linear algebra or whatever.  But I don’t think that ‘free will’ as currently discussed is in any sense an alternative to that model, either.  What I’m trying to say is that ‘free will’ isn’t really a claim about what the world is like at all.

The opposite of a belief in free will isn’t ‘I assert humans are chemical robots governed by deterministic electrochemical reactions’.  Instead, the opposite is ‘I am not angry at you for hurting me.’  Free will is a value statement.

Remember that ‘rate my dog’ parody account, and the central joke was that all the dogs got scores of like 12/10 or whatever?  And the punchline to it all, when somebody tried to call them out on the uselessness of a rating system that always stayed maxed out: “They’re good dogs, Brent.”  If I were at a high enough perch- strong enough, wise enough, safe enough- then that same optimism, I think, is the only part of my need for justice that would survive.  True power doesn’t rank humans from best to worst, or spend time blaming us for outcomes that cause suffering to ourselves or to others.  It doesn’t need to.

[cloudninetonine]

*walks on in slowly, awkwardly waves and hands you hot chocolate* Hey, so how have you been doing? Apologies I've been MIA, suddenly became a second dog mom and life's been kicking my butt.

So anyway before I make it like Plato and start rambling about the First introduction fic or go off about Fia or ramble about a Player ends up in the flooded part of the timeline au and probably pass out from lack of sleep- *throws this at you and runs off without elaborating*

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

You've done it. You shakily breath, in, out, in, out, as you step slowly towards the door you feel your hands shake, looking at the still form of the man on the ground.

The awful screaming still rings in your ears, you were sure they were bleeding even now even as you had choked the Fae into unconsciousness, the smell of burnt, no, withered flesh clings to the back of your tongue as you check the hall, keeping your eyes onto Conquest's fallen form. Hands twisting into the iron chain Hyrule had given you, you feel the blood staining the cold metal, hungry for it like how it had been starving for the hero's flesh.

("Just in case", he'd said, you wanted to laugh and cry and scream that he was right, in a way, you did need it against him eventually, from a certain point of view.

... You feel sick to your stomach and in the head, making jokes at a time like this.)

You're surprised none of those other men who wore the faces of your friends hadn't come investigate by now, the screams could probably rival those of a redead when exposed to sunlight. You don't find yourself complaining as you slam the door shut behind yourself, slotting the bloody key in with unsteady hands, (slick with your blood, Conquest's blood) lock it. And then walk away from there.

You learned the hard way running would just make your situation worse. Besides, you'd need to conserve whatever energy you could now, in case you really needed to make a break for it, or hopefully hide in an empty room. It was a good thing there wasn't a shortage of them in this abandoned house from what little you'd seen of this place after being forcefully brought here.

... You hated to put your trust in any of them, in any way shape or form, knowing what that monster in human skin had in mind was not something you'd ever want to know, but you hoped Conflict kept his end of the bargain.

Sticking to the shadows and where the torches glow the faintest, you soon find a stairwell and go down the stairs, two steps at a time, and a another eerily silent wing later you soon find yourself in a dungeon, because of course you would, your luck is awful enough you're not even surprised they put you in a wing that leads directly to where they likely tortured people. It was cold, dreary and damp, the scent of fresh and old blood made you want to vomit. But you refused, pressing on, trying not to look at the evidence of these men's cruelty, at the mutilated bodies of monsters and people alike, every single thing that would make you break and hinder your escape, at everything that yells and howls and rages at you at your stupidity to have mistaken Abyss for Sky that day and mistaking pain and such vile, horrible snarls for applause.

... You missed your boys, you missed the girls, all you wanted was to go home. Or someone who didn't want to kill or harm you for the moment.

Clang

You freeze, someone was here.

Your eyes dart about, finding a darkened pillar in between the cells and dive for it, pressing yourself close, but enough you'd be able to peer outside to the corridor.

Your eyes widen and you put both hands over your mouth, muffling the shocked sound attempting to escape your throat.

Wild- (Not, not Wild, not your Wild, your sweet, caring Wild, who'd tried his best and who only lived up to his namesake against enemies, to defend, never to intentionally harm)

That man wearing your Champion's garb, locked in furious combat with a similarly hooded person, crimson bloomed and flowed in rivulets over the harsh head wound on his head. The person had two broken shackles on each wrist and were doing their darnest to get away, using their spear to keep the twisted form of your Champion from slicing their head clean off their shoulders, they kick at his crotch with a heeled boot and when he moves back they charge at him with a war cry, slamming him against the wall and you flinch at the sickening crack his skull makes against the old, dirty bricks, he crumples like a puppet with his strings cut courtesy of the stranger dropping the spear, digging their fingers to his temples and slamming it again even as he squeezed their arm hard enough to break bone. You numbly take note of the golden ornaments on their right hand emanating a dim, weak, green glow and the wound on their shoulder, torso and calf, a slash through their shoulder, seems they gave the 'hero' just as good as he got on them. Since his only notable wounds were the head ones.

They take a deep, shaky breath, their hands are trembling, shaken but they growl, spitting blood near the man's downed body, "And stay down you fucking cunt!" After a moment, they flinch, hissing in pain, they drop to their knees and you fight the instinct to run to their aid, what if it was an act? "Christ on a stick stripteasing in a playboy bunny suit, fuck me gently with a chainsaw." Their words make you twitch, unconsciously stepping out of the hollow between the wall and the cell as they take his sword and chuck it away, then snag the Sheikah Slate.

That-

"Was that a Heathers reference?"

... Shit.

Guess that's how you die huh? Clowning yourself over because a Heathers reference.

The person tenses, whipping their head to your direction, they blink, one of their eyes a bright green, like yours, they seem to do a double take, eye widening, "Sans Undertale?!"

To be continued...

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

It's not much and likely not all that good but it's a start, going to leave it on my blog later xD, Twi's Vil self gets jumped on part two. *Runs off*

-A Very Tired Summertime Musician.

SUMMER GET BACK HERE AND GIVE ME THE REST I FUCKING WANT IT NOW

#cloud answers

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for changing into something stronger and cooler and also for the killings i guess?

so i (f16) was walking with my sister (f15) to this dumb bitch (f16)'s house (we were going to kidnap her dog and pretend he got ate, not important) when i got attacked and bit by this huge fuck-off dog. we went home and it was fine, i started bleeding and shit, grew a bunch of hair, ate a few dogs, but i figured puberty is hell right??? anyway my sister B insisted i was turning into a werewolf which is stupid, she was just jealous. except i grew a tail, and i fucked this guy (m16) without a condom and now he's exhibiting the same symptoms, and the dumb bitch came to our house and died (it was an accident!!!) and we buried her under our shed because our parents are huge idiots who wouldn't understand but anyway i toootally wanted to eat her corpse. also i might be bi. so yeah this morning my dumbass sister insisted i can't leave the house anymore (??? as if that will help anything) and locked me in our bathroom. i broke out obviously, got called to our guidance counsellor's office because i flashed some tools, and he said he was going to call my mom. so i killed him. and my sister went to get stuff to clean up and hide the body after school but then a janitor came in and i wanted to kill him too so i did. my sister came back and FREAKED so i kicked her in the stomach and ran away. anyway, here's where i might be the asshole: my sister went to this creep (m21) for help finding a cure but he sucks, he just wants to get in her pants. but yeah so he's throwing a halloween party tonight and i'm thinking of helping the situation by crashing it and fucking him. AITA?

#AITA #am i the asshole #unreality #grooming

[artsyunderstudy]

15 Questions | 15 People

Rules: Answer these 15 Questions, then Tag 15 People 

Thanks for tagging me @aristocratic-otter!

1. Are you named after anyone? My mom was working in a daycare and met a little girl named Ashton and thought "that's a pretty name" and here I am. I agree, I like my name. It's unisex and people call me sir a lot over email, which I don't mind. People also call me Ashley over the phone which I ... do mind. Don't call me Ashley.

2. When was the last time you cried? I can't remember exactly, though I know it was recent. It was a little cry, I was just lost in a thought spiral.

3. Do you have kids? Not yet :(

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yes, but mostly just when I'm in a good mood. For laughs. I don't generally use it in arguments or when expressing anything negative. I'm very very straightforward in those situations.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?  I really don't know. Probably just their expressions, and clothes because I like clothes and I like to see how people choose to present themselves. Not in a judgey way, just a curious way.

6. What’s your eye color? Brown. Dark, dark brown.

7. Scary movies or happy ending? Happy endings, I don't love being scared.

8. Any special talents? I have been told I'm pretty good at art and writing. I can also sing but I hate getting ANY attention for it so usually I just sing at home, about things I'm cooking or if my husband says something weird.

9. Where were you born? Fort Worth, Texas

10. What are your hobbies? Outside of fandom?? I love travel planning. Like, travel too, but I'm particularly into the planning. I have trellos. They are magnificent.

11. Do you have any pets?  Yes! 2 cats and one dog.

Pumpkin (orange tabby, grumpy, chonky, great pillow, made of trouble, loves being squished so much we call him squash, likes it rough the little weirdo, has been with me since the beginning and we are very attached to each other),

Kira (a skinny grey patchy kitty with big paws and frog eyes, very sweet and polite, will tap you on the shoulder for attention, gets right up in your face when you're eating to beg for food she's not actually interested in, will not be put off, will not give up, and likes to sleep under the covers, weirdly obsessed with my husband)

Ember (cute as fuck cattle dog mutt, probably hates us because we're low energy and she is HIGH HIGH HIGH energy, loves head and chin scratches, dangerous because she cannot contain her excitement for any humans, doesn't understand personal boundaries AT ALL and has paid the price for it a few times, she will paw and lick and jump and bork and snurf, very afraid of loud noises and locks herself in the downstairs bathroom when there are fireworks, dabs a lot, sleeps a lot, loves going to grandma's house (grandma's house!!!!), my husban and i are completely fucking obsessed with her and she's tired of hugs)

12. What sports do you play/have you played? I am very bad at sports. Very uncoordinated and asthmatic and also bored by them. I did play soccer when I was little, and danced. Terrible at both. I like putting the basketball in the hoop, could do without the running and dribbling. Ugh, running.

13. How tall are you? 5'4"

14. Favorite subject at school? English, out of the core courses. But I wasn't a good student. Way too ADD. Art was my favorite class. Art and Chorus, but those are electives so I dunno if they count.

15. Dream job? I genuinely don't want to do the stuff I love for a job. I went to school for Art, I got a DEGREE, but I work in Ed Tech as a Success Manager meaning I just make people successful and happy all day, and I love it and I'm really good at it (im a good problem solver, let me solve your problems). I guess I would have liked to be a teacher, since that's my favorite part of my job currently, but teachers get the shit end of the stick and I couldn't do it. All my love to the teachers out there.

Anyway, I don't want to get paid for art or writing, even if they are the only things I want to do with my time, because the minute I'm doing it for money and not just because I'm excited about it, I hate it.

This was the opposite of an answer to that question, wasn't it?

Tags under the cut along with pictures of my pets.

@cutestkilla @bookish-bogwitch @hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @captain-aralias @shrekgogurt @erzbethluna @stitchyqueer @fatalfangirl @thehoneyedhufflepuff @messofthejess @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @moodandmist @palimpsessed @larkral

#tag game #about me

[softichill]

yesterday we got a christian crazy. That wasn't too fun. Hit em with the ol " if my dad didn't go to heaven then what's the use of it?" I wish they realized nothing turns people off from converting more than harassment. Sigh. Anyways. Sis probably went to another interview today. I didn't really get to ask. One can only hope. She left the house at least when I went upstairs. Poor Teddy. He got locked in Mom's room and barked up a storm with his tiny little dog lungs. He hates it when she leaves without him downstairs..he kinda turned into a lump when Mom left with sis. He was too tired to unlump. Ergh..... No music.. GRAHHHHHH! You'd See from Go Hang? I'm sorry. gore warning for the album cover and I can't understand the lyrics so anything could be there.

Vjdkgnskg dang. Unfortunately there's a big emphasis on being 'saved from darkness by christ' in US christianity so they think they're doing you a favor by bugging you about it

Love Me Love Me Love Me by Kikuo? Man I'm running out of music too. It's a Miku song but iirc there's an official human cover somewhere

#ask #song rec

[cherienymphe]

OMG! Cherie! I can still feel my mom's wrath lmao but hear me out.

So yesterday, our neighbor asked me about where we placed our excess sacks of sand, used for the construction of our house previously, I said I have no idea and I thought that was about it when she backed away.

Anyway, while I was out and bought some food, I met her again and she told me she will take some sand but she can't because my door is open, and although my dogs are really nice, they don't take well when a stranger suddenly grabs stuff near the house. Thinking she asked permission to my mom, because hello that's how you do it, I helped her and locked my door temporarily so they could get it.

Long story short, she did not ask for permission. ☠️🫠 The moment my mom got home, I told her about it, because I have a bad feeling, and she got really mad. 😩 Turns out, no one messaged her about it at all and the craziest thing is they took a whole sack of sand. 🫠 The price for that doesn't matter at all. It's the fact that she acted that she could just get stuff just because our family is pretty close baffles me. I know that you may be wondering as to why I just let them, our neighbourhood is pretty close-knit. And she's old enough to message my mom and ask her nicely for it. My mom will not hesitate to give it to her. But I guess, thinking that we will just agree, she took it upon herself to take it. ☠️

At the moment, my mom is still waiting for her to remember what she did and message her. I made sure to tell my mom that she did not ask for my permission and lol, I don't have the power over my mom's stuff so even if she asked me, I will just tell her to message her.

Up until today, I still think about the audacity. 😩

That's so wild to me what 😭 why would she do that without even asking

#asks

[yuritual]

paranormal (maybe) story as requested by @moonstear :3

ok SO. several years ago i had the house to myself (rare occasion) and i was in the basement gaming when i heard the floor creaking above me. i didn’t really pay it any mind at first bc houses just do that but it kept going and i noticed that it REALLY sounded like footsteps. so i text my mom like hey are you sure no one else is home? and she confirms it’s just me and the dog (who was sleeping right behind me so obviously it wasn’t him upstairs). i told her about the noises and she was like oh it’s probably just bc the dryer is running which like. ok sure it does make the floor creak sometimes so i accepted that and carried on. but then it starts again. and again it’s like Very distinct footstep noises so i go upstairs, grab a knife from the kitchen, and start looking all over the house to make sure no one’s there. i checked like every corner basically and there was nothing so i was content and went back downstairs. everything is fine for a little while i’m just playing fallout chilling whatever and then i hear it AGAIN and this time my dog notices too and starts growling at the steps 🧍‍♀️so i call my mom and tell her what’s happening and she agrees to come home early. when she gets there we both grab weapons and scour the WHOLE house like every nook and cranny and once again, nothing. so she asked if i was comfortable with her leaving again for a bit and i was like erm not really but go ahead 😭 and a few minutes after she’s gone it starts again. and it’s the loudest and most distinct it’s ever been so i close the basement door, grab a screwdriver (nearest weapon lol), lock myself in the bathroom, and call my mom fucking crying freaking out and she calls the cops to come while she’s still out. the cop gets there around the same time as her and they searched the house while i stayed downstairs with the dog. while they were searching a light in the back of the basement started flickering and this was when i was in my very big ghost believer era so i was like O_O huh… but anyways they finish the search and again they found absolutely nothing. no sign of anyone being there no sign of forced entry everything is normal. and i told my mom about the light flickering and she said that happens a lot which is interesting bc i’ve spent A Lot of time in that basement and i don’t recall ever seeing that light flicker before or since but idk 🤷‍♀️ and then nothing like that ever happened again lol so who knows. it was probably nothing but i am still a little bit of a believer so i won’t totally write it off

[facade]

vent long personal heavy ok

it’s really helpless and crushing how im always cornered back to the same sad answer of how i should have considered the future earlier. my legs are in so much pain, im crying from how much my body aches and im simply told, you shouldn’t have been in your room all day — despite the fact i wasn’t allowed to go outside, and there was seldom walking space in our awful house. i was always sick, and always dizzy. it is crazy how dangerous black mold can be and yet we had a complete infestation of that and more. i want to consider pursuing a career ive had since i was a child though, im so passionate about art and i still am which might be a blessing considering how much commissions are hurting me mentally and perhaps physically .. opening several, several batches a year, constantly cramming them.. i think i want to do college. but i didn’t take on the scholarship i had when i graduated! i didn’t take the aid that covered my first year.. truthfully i didn’t think id make it so far. im insecure, im suicidal, im fragile. the past decade, i could barely get through anything without crying. it was humiliating to exist as i was in middle and highschool due to the living situation i was in, with no money and feeling i had no true support or even solidarity with my own mother, who must have been under much more stress than i was, trying to provide for her child. but still didn’t sympathize with me at all. the situation was hard, but i should have worked harder .. honestly, i do feel selfish for not having taken advantage of my moms effort to keep me in school, but ahhhhhh, i think it was just too much. i didn’t want to live like this. i was ashamed and disgusted, i still feel discomfort associating myself with that life. i cling to childhood and youth and traditions i missed out on because i lacked so much of that routine as a kid. is it so wrong to cry and want to die that you never got to experience a proper, loving christmas like everyone in your schools did ? no toys, no cable, only a tiiiny tiny laptop (like a 2008 chromebook-like thing) to keep me busy.. i wasn’t allowed to go outside of my own house to play with the dog, nor was I allowed to have anyone come over. wasn’t allowed to visit other people’s houses… not like i remember of that much anyways, as i barely remember anything from childhood except mortifying things.. i recently saw a way to connect to my mother by opening up. i confessed to her a lot of things as i was a mute child and never shared anything, never felt comfortable to — about how it affected me, about how i feel like im in stasis. i told her about what happened between me and my father, what happened between me and my brother, and i felt empty when she looked away from me and didn’t answer. No closure or comfort, and simply said that i should have taken advantage of my opportunities when I had them. And i have sabotaged myself. nothing else can explain for my disability, my mental health, and my plummeting education.

It took me 6 years to get an ID. 5 years to get a bank account. I don’t know how to learn how to drive and I am scared but I have to. i cannot go anywhere without someone’s help, primarily hers.

it feels too unfair, and i am still grieving for every year that passes by, even the previous year, that i am still locked in a house. i have never experienced much that i can call positive memories until i went to be with my best friend and my boyfriend. but that just made the memories painful too; when I think about how I have to end the trip. Board the plane or get in the car, and cry about how I have to go back home and be with my mother. it is not normal, to dread going back there so intensely. i wish i had a different life very badly, honestly, but a comfort i have now is that i think i am now strong emotionally and legally that i can make my own plans, manage my own bank, decide who i can visit without the permission of my mother. but. that is not because of my strength, and it is actually because she is sick. and she now has cancer as of september. I feel like i have been held in my mothers arms forced still for an entire two decades and the only reason she’s let go is because she is, her health is not well. And she has prepared me this week, a conversation of where to find her records, her files, her will, her passwords. Everything, if she passes away soon. i want to sleep forever, because i don’t want to wake up to a day wondering if it will happen soon. I don’t want to be in this position. I am scared. I wish I was with people I loved who loved me. i am shaking and sad. I wish I was too drained to cry anymore because I do it too much, for years. I wish I wasn’t such a sad person. I wish I wasn’t so miserable, I wish I had more happier things to think about when people ask me how I am. I feel miserably

I was gifted breath of the wild a couple years ago, now i am finally playing it. it helps i think. i really enjoy it most for the animal interaction and cooking and exploration.

[eu-n-estive-aqui]

Vent letter

Hi, this isn't much of a story or fanfic, it's actually just for me to express what I've been holding back, an outburst for myself. How is it possible that a person who should be our comfort figure treats you worse than your own dog? This is my mother, I don't understand how I can hate her and love her at the same time. It's not like she's all bad either, she does nice things for me, it makes me feel bad that I still resent her despite that. They always say that I'm a lot like her, maybe that's why she tends to take out her frustrations on me. I don't judge her despite that, she had a very abusive family environment, but it's not fair to me. I constantly feel a void in terms of affection, something that she has in abundance for my younger sisters, her angels and her pride. Regardless of what my sisters do, they are always received with such understanding and affection, while I am received with anguish and contempt, she even blames me so that I understand that she makes sacrifices for me too, as if that were good for me, just ends up causing weight beyond normal. If I end up having a panic or anxiety attack, she fights with me anyway, because according to her I'm not old enough to give "pee" (I was diagnosed with anxiety when I was a child, but I don't receive psychological support) I never demanded anything, I always tried to understand, I was never one to ask for a lot of gifts or toys, but when I asked for one (which was very simple), she demanded that my sisters get something big, so as not to be unfair to them. Even when they give me gifts she thinks about my sisters, at Christmas my aunt gave me a little money (just because she was my godmother), and my mother immediately told me and fought with me to return and deny this gift, because according to her I wasn't It was fair to my sisters, and they would be very sad, but what about me? Did she happen to think of me? And now my relationship with her has reached such an unbearable level that it's practically suffocating me. She wants me to live like she did, and if I complain or ask for something, she becomes victimized and compares me to my sisters. It's shit to be constantly compared to someone younger than you, she even uses me as a threat to my sisters, I've heard her tell them that they shouldn't be like me, that I'm ungrateful, rebellious and that I don't do anything useful. She once said that I only live in this house because I owe her. She already hit me and locked me in a room, because she thought I had hit one of my sisters, even though she had hurt herself. And whenever my sisters are doing something that bothers me and makes me uncomfortable, she simply says that I should be ashamed of myself and not fight with someone younger than me. Every time I need or try to spend time with my mom, she says she's busy with my sisters, and fights with me for wanting her attention too. My father has already noticed our problematic relationship, and ends up having discussions with my mother about it, and then she comes to me and says that if she or my father split up, it would be my fault. And I simply can't take being treated like this anymore, my mental state is already worn out, exhausted, practically begging for peace. I started to think about the possibility of just ending my life soon, I can't live like this anymore, I feel like I'm slowly dying with each passing day. I've even started thinking about ways I could kill myself without feeling pain, I've imagined myself dying in casual everyday situations, and I've already hurt my own body. I simply don't know what to do anymore.

#mother issues #vent post

[beaversatemygrandma]

I just need to throw something in the void because i have No Idea how to feel about this.

So, if you've seen these void posts, then you know that my mom has absolutely lost it and is selling her house and randomly buying one in a totally different state. The news came to me randomly. She was just "I'm heading up to TN and looking out houses, might buy and sell my house." And I'm just caught incredibly off guard because there was zero forewarning. Anyways, after that whole phone call where i was honestly very shocked and very scared, and having her basically say that I'm moving in with her without really asking what i wanted. And also disregarding my sister who will be left in FL ALONE at college (like what the fuck). Anyways, I told her to CALL ME when she found a house or was on her way back home.

She didn't. For some reason she expects me to call her and then gets mad that i don't call her.

So, i get a notif from facebook saying my mom posted. Apparently she sold her house today for her original lowballing price. Which is first, how you get it to sell immediately to FLIPPERS and airbnb people. Both me and my dad told her to go with like $400k or so which she COULD GET and then get them to talk her down because she was just "gonna sell for 300k" which WHY? You could get half a mil for your house if you wanted to right now. It's near water. Prime location. By a fire station. It's worth MORE. You remodeled the back half. It's worth MORE. It sold at the FIRST showing. For so much less than it was worth. My dad has already commented there that he was telling her to ask for more. Her house is worth MORE. But she's just "You don't know shit. don't tell me what to do." So, I'm assuming, because she Didn't Fucking Call Me, that she bought a house. Like thanks. If you're expecting me to move in with you, communicate?? Tell me about the house?? Tell me what you're doing??

Either way, I've come up with a totally different plan because i was literally just using her as a landing pad to get back to my hometown. I wasn't specifically wanting to move back in with her. I just wanted to GO HOME. New place in TN isn't HOME. THAT house you sold for shit, is HOME. SO. The long-distance bf. He's getting an apartment cleaned out. It's attached to his mom's place and she's only going to charge us like 100-200 a month. It's just a small on bedroom place above the car port. It's spacious for what it is, it just needs MAJOR cleaning because his shit sister left beyond a simple mess. Complete with food trash and dog shit and furniture. This morning he'd been focusing on cleaning the fridge out. Which yeah, she left A LOT in. Like tf. She left something atrocious. Like it's not just a couple days' work. It's a couple weeks. There's even a door that has to be replaced because she took the bedroom and CUT THE DOOR IN HALF and used it specifically for her young daughter. Then proceeded to board up the porch and use that as her bedroom. Which they're just filling with all her shit and locking off from the apartment, because apparently she's got sticky fingers and they don't want her in the apartment stealing our shit when she picks up hers. So, they're opening up the side/back door to use as the main door. Because yeah, that "porch" is a mess and it's barely got a path to get in through anymore.

So yeah, moving in with him. Honestly, it feels like a good option. I know we get along well and he's a lot better with communication than other people I've dealt with, so if we hit any bumps suddenly with cohabitation together, I'm sure we can figure it out fine. And with something that has happened with him (some huge lego set that he was promised after getting a job by his grandparents), I've learned how to get him to leave me alone for hours on end if I need that. Like, I know i can definitely just ask if he hangs out in the bedroom and me living room or vice versa for a bit if we need space, but you know. If it comes to it, i at least have that knowledge. But it seems like a nice place. If we need help, his family is literally on the other side of the wall. There's goats, dogs, and cats on the property. It's like ten minutes out of town in the woods, so it's quiet. And honestly, I've been wanting to have him around like really bad for a good long while now. The plan if my mom hadn't moved, would be staying there and doing the test to see if we could live together by basically spending a couple days together, so we're skipping the testing period. But at least that means i won't have to move my stuff twice, just skipping the middleman and bringing it all there. But my mom is already in her process. So, I'm just going to go straight there once I can. He's already offered to pay the price of getting me there which helps immensely because the only reason I'm not in that town yet is because we haven't had the money. Quite literally, as soon as the repairs on my car are done and he's got the place cleared out, then we're good to go.

I should probably tell my dad he offered to pay that.

ANYWAYS. I should call my mom at some point and tell her my plan because I don't want to go with her and basically get trapped by her again. Ntm because she still also hasn't cut off her nazi ex husband. I basically explained that to my dad and he was just nodding and agreeing. Like he understands exactly why I wouldn't want to just up and move in with her alone.

I should also call my sister and get her that remote job referral. And tell her that she won't be alone in the state and we'd have a couch for her to crash on if she needs a place to stay over school breaks.

I do want to move in with this guy. Really do. But WHY can't my mom return her expectations for me and CALL?? I wanted updates. I told her to give me updates. She did not. I came up with another plan instead of just having the "I'll stay with her for a year or two and then eventually we'll get together." No no no. I'm going right to him. Fuck staying with my mom and getting trapped under her control again.

#taks speaks #VERY frustrated with my mom right now #she gets mad that i don't call her and she won't do something as simple as CALL ME when i ask her to #I've got someone else and a backup plan so fuck all that #done dealing with her randomly deciding to just up and leave #if she wants to leave and leave behind her other child in the hellscape that is FL then she doesn't get me either #we're in this together and I'm getting a place where she's got a landing pad to stay if things go wrong at college

[shrekshugebadussy]

i’m interested to hear thoughts. i personally don’t think i’m in the wrong, but basically last weekend was easter & for a little backstory, my mom, brother, and i live in the middle of the rest of our family. my aunt, her husband, & kids live about 2hrs west of me, my uncle and my cousin live about 1 hr 30m east of me, and my grandma lives 15min north of me 😭. anyways, we’ve always had our family get togethers at my grandmas, but her place is small, so my uncle and aunt kinda just.. offer our place up. which is fine, that means we don’t have to go anywhere, but to get to the point, my aunts son is 1 & a half years old, and he’s afraid of cats… i have a cat.

now, i’ve had this cat since nov 2021, so she’s not new, and they’ve been over before with her here… she does not go near my baby cousin at all. the closest she’s gotten was literally across the room peeking from behind some chairs. she’s curious, and she’s never been around small human beings before. she’s never once gotten close enough to even touch my baby cousin. my baby cousin is very wary of her tho. when he was here last weekend he would even grab his toys to hold so my cat wouldn’t get to them. it was funny at first ngl, even my aunt was laughing. he also loves dogs, and my aunt has 2 dogs, but no cats. so i can understand that he’s never been around cats before so he’s wary of them, i get it.

but then dinner came.

he apparently “couldn’t eat” his food (i was not paying attention to them fully, as i was helping getting the table set up and stuff, since he was eating other stuff, so maybe he was distracted idk) because she was roaming around. so my aunt asked me if i could put my cat in a room. and i’m ngl i was kinda peeved. i mean this is my house, my cats house. she’s never made a sound nor has she even gotten close to anyone else for that matter let alone my baby cousin.

i did end up locking her in my room just for the time that we all ate. after that i let her back out (her litter is in my bathroom across the house and her food was in the dining room & when i opened my door she was on my bookshelf, which she’s never been on before). my aunt knew at the time that i wasn’t happy, but i moved on. it’s become apparent that she meant for me to lock her up until they left, but she never specified, nor was i going to do that.

after dinner my baby cousin went into the living room and kept playing, i let her out and gave her an early dinner of wet food and she happily stayed out of the living room. she eventually just got on her window perch that’s on the sliding glass doors in my dining room, and my other, older cousin was playing with her anyways.

the rest of the gathering went fine. but yesterday my mom informed me that apparently my aunt texted her and said that they’re not sure that they’re comfortable having gatherings at our house anymore bcuz “there wasn’t much sympathy” for my baby cousin’s fear.

my mom and i are just flabbergasted that she even thought that we didn’t care about his feelings. i only locked her away in the first place because of that & i figured after dinner while he was in the living room she would be elsewhere, ie eating her dinner.

oh and btw she was on her window perch by the dining table when he was eating desert and he was fine 🤷🏻

again i don’t think i’m in the wrong here…

#sorry this is long but i wanted y’all to have the context #btw when my brother and i were younger my brother was scared of dogs and my aunt got a dog that we had be around without any say #but now i cant have my cat around in her own house bcuz her child is kinda scared? #my mom finally answered her today and just said that while we have a cat we won’t be having gatherings here anymore #and that they can just tell us what they expect from us so we can show up regardless of our own feelings basically #no i don’t want him to be scared but how is he ever going to not be scared if he never has exposure to cats #she’s the first cat he’s ever seen #idk #mine